by Sean Black
‘It wouldn’t be cheating,’ she said.
Was she looking for affirmation that she was still attractive? If it was that simple she would have little problem finding someone younger than Lock for a casual hook-up. This area was full of handsome young actors waiting tables or providing personal training to women like Tarian. Not all of them were gay.
He doubted it was as simple as that. More likely her making a pass at him was tangled up in the nature of what he was doing. He was a literal protector. This was the equivalent of a male patient falling in love with an attractive young nurse. And yet? He was attracted to her. It was a raw, visceral attraction. The kind that had him standing behind the door with one hell of an erection. If they’d been alone in the house, he would have thrown her down on the bed and taken her right there and then. Ripped that goddamn robe right off her.
The children were screaming outside the door. It snapped Lock back to the present. He looked at Tarian as she stood there, vulnerable and expectant. He just about managed to remind himself that what she was proposing was one hell of a bad idea. ‘I’m here to keep everyone safe,’ he said. ‘That’s all. I have a firm policy about not getting involved with either clients or principals or anyone directly connected to them.’
Downstairs the doorbell chimed. Tarian turned away. She was still smiling. She must have sensed he hadn’t entirely meant what he’d just said.
‘Hey, Marcus is here! Marcus is here!’ shouted the boy.
His sister took up the chorus. ‘Marcus is here, Mommy!’
Lock closed the door on Tarian Griffiths and hastily dried off. With the towel still wrapped around his waist, he walked back into the bedroom and changed into the fresh clothes he kept in the case that lived in his car. He stepped out into the corridor, his SIG on his hip. This was one homecoming he didn’t want to miss.
25
From the photographs Lock had been shown, Marcus Griffiths wasn’t much to look at. In the flesh, he achieved the rare trick of being even less impressive. He stood about five feet seven, but the shadow of a post-adolescent stoop shaved off another inch. His hair managed to be both curly and lank. He stared down at the floor of the hallway, occasionally deigning to mutter a reply to the volley of questions coming at him from every direction. All Lock could think was that if, at that age, he had given off half the attitude Marcus did, his father would have slapped the shit out of him. Lock’s home had been warm, loving, but also a place of simple virtues such as saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, being respectful to your elders and generally behaving like a human being. Hormones had not been seen as a free pass for rudeness.
Ty was standing off to one side as Lock came down the stairs, while everyone apart from Teddy, who was framed in the kitchen doorway, smirking, fussed around the prodigal son. Marcus shot Lock a glance that settled somewhere between contempt and disdain. Lock could hardly pat the kid down but he did do a quick visual scan for a weapon. None that he could see. He walked into the kitchen. Teddy retreated with him. The housekeeper was busy making a mountain of food for breakfast.
‘Mind if I grab some coffee?’ Lock asked.
‘Rosa will get that for you,’ said Teddy. ‘Get me one too, Rosa,’ he added, doing that white-people thing of raising his voice, as if that would magically make the English language more discernible to a native Spanish speaker from south of the border.
The housekeeper poured two mugs and set out half-and-half and sugar on the kitchen island for them. She never said anything. She didn’t make eye contact. Lock didn’t blame her. In a nuthouse like this, keeping your head down was usually the best policy, especially when your pay check depended on it.
‘Muchas gracias,’ said Lock, taking the coffee with a smile that Rosa returned with a raise of her eyebrows that spoke volumes. They were both hired help, after all. He took a sip. The coffee tasted great. Freshly made. The expensive stuff, Blue Mountain from Jamaica.
Teddy hefted his mug to his mouth, and regarded Lock with bloodhound eyes. ‘Oh, boy, do I need this. And some painkillers. Probably a blood transfusion too.’
With a glance at the door, where Tarian was still fussing over Marcus, Lock asked, ‘He say anything about where he’s been?’
‘With friends,’ said Teddy.
‘Anything about the shooting?’
‘He’s not mentioned it, and I think Tarian is scared to. Case he freaks out. I asked him when he was last at his place and he said three days ago. I was going to say more but she cut me off. You must have seen that look she has, like she’s going to cut my goddamn balls off.’
Lock ignored the last part. Whining was never to be encouraged, particularly not when it came from a grown man who had likely contributed his part to the breakdown of his marriage. In Lock’s experience, despite what men would have their fellows believe, women didn’t start out as nags: they got that way because of the men they were married to. If they had started out like that, more fool the men who married them.
‘You want me and Tyrone to handle it?’
‘Boy, would you? That’d be great. He doesn’t listen to me. It’s like talking to a wall. I’m just the guy who pays all the bills around here.’
‘Leave it to us,’ said Lock, draining the rest of his coffee.
26
Lock signaled for Ty to follow him. They walked back out into the hallway. Tarian and the two kids were still fluttering around Marcus. The little boy was trying to show his stepbrother some toy car while the little girl was asking him a million questions. Tarian looked like she was someplace between relieved and apprehensive.
Marcus stood in the middle of all the activity. When he saw Lock and Ty, Lock thought for a moment that he might bolt for the door. He looked scared. It didn’t take a genius to see it. He was staring at Lock with an air of defiance but his folded-in body language spoke of fear.
Tarian broke the ice for them: ‘Marcus, this is Ryan, and Tyrone.’
Lock winced a little at the first names. She was making them sound like camp counsellors. He stepped forward, hand out. ‘Ryan Lock. Good to meet you, Marcus.’
Marcus offered a sweaty hand. Ty followed Lock’s lead. ‘Hey, brother, Ty Johnson.’
‘What’s going on?’ Marcus said to Tarian. ‘Who are these guys? I already told you, I’m not seeing another shrink. I’m fine.’
Lock and Ty traded a look. Ty took the lead, moving next to Marcus and clapping a hand on his back, imposing himself on the boy. ‘It’s nothing to worry about. But we need to talk to you for a few minutes. Bring you up to speed. That’s all.’
Lock had physical presence but not the way Ty had it. There weren’t many people who would turn down a polite request from the six-foot-four, former Marine.
Marcus managed a weak ‘Mom?’ but she was already shooing away the kids. ‘They just want to talk, Marcus.’
Lock fell in on the other side of Marcus and they walked him into the living room. Ty closed the door behind them. Lock gestured for Marcus to sit down.
‘What is this? Are you cops?’ said Marcus.
Lock stayed standing. ‘Private security. Your mother was concerned about you. She wanted us to make sure you were okay. That’s all. Nothing you have to worry about.’
‘Well, I’m fine,’ said Marcus, getting up only to find Ty’s hand pushing him back down.
‘We ain’t done getting acquainted yet, son,’ he growled.
Marcus sighed and took a swipe at the curly hair that had fallen forward over his face. ‘I said I’m fine.’
‘When were you last at your apartment, Marcus?’ Lock asked.
Marcus shrugged. ‘Like three days ago. I’ve been staying with friends. Why?’
Lock studied his face. ‘We visited your apartment yesterday with your mom. Someone shot out one of the glass balcony doors. Then they took a shot at us.’
Marcus seemed surprised. It was hard to tell if he was acting or genuine. Lock always looked for the speed of reaction.
Someone who reacted too fast to news like that usually knew it was coming. Either Marcus didn’t know or he’d prepared.
‘A shot? Like a gunshot?’
That came off to Lock like someone trying a little too hard to play the innocent. ‘Yeah,’ said Lock. ‘Bang. Bang. You know anything about that?’
Marcus got up and walked to the window. This time Ty let him go. ‘Maybe. I mean, I can’t be sure, but . . .’
‘You can’t be sure about what?’ said Ty.
Marcus turned round. He looked upset. He wasn’t faking that. ‘How much has my mom told you?’
Neither Lock nor Ty replied. They both just stared at him.
‘She tell you about the girl at USC?’ Marcus asked.
‘She didn’t, but we made it our business to find out,’ Lock said.
Marcus didn’t reply. Lock could tell that his answer hadn’t gone down well, judging from the fleeting expression of rage that flitted across the young man’s face.
‘She has friends. Well, a boyfriend,’ said Marcus. ‘Maybe it was him that took the shot. Or one of his buddies. They’re like big-time jocks, think they’re tough guys.’
‘With guns?’ said Ty.
‘Maybe,’ stuttered Marcus. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You been bothering her again?’ said Lock.
‘No! No way. It was stupid. The whole thing. I didn’t even do anything to her. Just some notes and stuff. She was a bitch anyway.’
Lock looked at Ty. They’d both registered some real emotion there. The girl was a sore point.
‘Did her boyfriend or any of his friends threaten you, Marcus?’ said Lock.
Marcus shrugged. ‘Maybe like stay away from her. Stuff like that. I didn’t think they’d use a gun.’
‘And did you stay away from her?’ said Ty.
‘Like I had a choice. Not that I’d want to go anywhere near her anyway. Like I said, she’s a cun––’
Lock held up a hand, cutting him off. ‘Ladies don’t like that word. I don’t much like it either.’ He turned to his partner. ‘You like the C-word, Ty?’
Ty solemnly shook his head. ‘Nope. Disrespectful. Don’t think your momma would like it either.’
‘Okay. Well, I haven’t breached my court order. And as for guns or people firing them, I don’t know anything about that. Now, can I go? I mean, if you’re not cops you can’t keep me here, right?’
‘You can go,’ said Lock. ‘Thanks for your help. We’ll look into what you told us.’
‘Good,’ said Marcus, stalking out of the room. ‘I hope you do.’
He opened the door and slammed it behind him. They heard him thudding up the stairs.
‘What do you think?’ Lock asked Ty.
‘I think he’s one lying little motherfucker,’ said Ty.
‘Yup,’ said Lock.
27
Marcus pushed open the door to his old bedroom. He opened the cupboards, and began to rifle through them. Someone knocked at the half-open door. It was his mom.
‘Are you okay? I’ve been so worried.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Apart from being interrogated like I’m some kind of a criminal, I’m fine. When you were poking around my apartment, did you happen to see my laptop? I can’t find it.’
‘I wasn’t poking around. I was looking for you. Making sure you were okay.’
He turned on her. He wished his shot had been better and that he’d blown her stupid head off. Krank was right. They were all the same. Stupid bitches. ‘Have you seen it? Yes or no?’
‘Yes. We brought it back. Mr Lock was worried it might get stolen, what with the door being broken and everything.’
‘So where is it?’ Marcus shouted. He wanted to punch her. Her and those two goons she had downstairs. Maybe he’d come back and kill them all. Teddy too. Put that poor bastard out of his misery.
‘It’s right there,’ said Tarian, pointing a manicured finger at his desk.
In his panic he hadn’t noticed it. He scooped it up and threw it into a rucksack, along with some fresh clothes.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m leaving,’ said Marcus. ‘You can’t stop me.’
She grabbed at his arm as he pushed past her. He shook her off.
‘I’m worried about you. We need to talk. Stay for a little while at least,’ Tarian begged.
He ignored her, shoving her out of the way and heading for the stairs. The rucksack slung over his shoulder, he took them two at a time. At the bottom he dug out his cell phone and texted Krank to come meet him and take him back to the kill house.
The two security guys watched him head for the front door. Teddy called after him but he ignored him too. He opened the door and went out into the fresh air. He felt a sense of relief. He had what he’d come for. No one knew anything about what he and the guys had planned. It was all good.
The next time his mom saw him he would be on the news. The national news. International. Worldwide.
28
Lock and Ty stood next to each other in one of the big bay windows that fronted onto the garden. They watched the heavy black iron gates at the bottom of the driveway swing open and Marcus dart through them without a backward glance. Lock had watched most of what had gone on from the upstairs hallway.
‘Pretty keen to get hold of that laptop of his,’ he said to Ty.
Ty dug into his pocket and pulled out a plug-in hard drive. He held it up for Lock’s approval. ‘Just as well I already cloned it, huh?’
‘You looked at it?’ Lock said.
‘He’s got some security that I can’t get past. Gonna drop it off with someone who’ll crack it. Chinese dude by the name of Li. Might take him a while, though.’
‘Hold the fort for me here?’ said Lock, as he glanced at his watch. ‘I’m heading out.’
‘Sure, but where you going?’
‘Few people I need to talk to down at USC,’ said Lock.
As he reached the door, Ty called him back. ‘Yo! Ryan?’
Lock turned.
‘She likes you,’ said Ty.
Lock knew exactly who he was talking about. ‘She’s married.’
‘For now,’ said Ty. ‘Good-looking woman. All I’m saying.’ He made a show of taking in the sweep of the room. ‘Got money too. You’d make a cute couple.’
‘Do me a favor, would you?’ said Lock.
‘What’s that?’
‘Just watch the house. Anything I should know about, call me.’
29
Kristina Valeris had reached a point where she had given up wishing for rescue. Now she could only wish for death. But death did not feel close. She had always assumed that someone in her position would be so traumatized by the shock of abduction and imprisonment that they would feel numb. Instead she felt raw, like her skin had been peeled away to leave her nerve endings naked and exposed.
They had her in some kind of shed at the back of the property. She had a belt around her waist. The belt was locked and connected to a length of chain that was attached to the back wall. It allowed her to move about six feet from the dirty single bed that had been pushed up against one wall. There was a bucket for her to urinate and defecate into, along with some wipes and hand gel. There was bottled water. There were some crackers and peanut butter for her to eat between meals. Once a day she was blindfolded and unshackled and taken, at gunpoint, to a shower.
Sometimes one of them came in to sit with her. They always wore masks, though she had seen most of them through one of the grimy windows, walking around outside in the garden. She had seen the guy she thought of as the taxi driver just once since she’d been taken. The one she had picked out as the leader was Asian, short but muscular, like he spent a lot of time at the gym. She’d heard them call him Krank.
Krank seemed to control the others. She heard them speaking about him when he wasn’t there. They seemed to be intimidated by him but it was more of a hero-worship thing than
something that came from fear. It was like he was a guru. They talked endlessly about something he’d said and what it might mean. Or they would compete among each other about how close they were to him.
It creeped her out almost as much as the nightly visits when she closed her eyes and took herself away until they were done. At first she hadn’t understood how they could treat another human being like they treated her. Slowly, as she listened to them talk, she understood.
They talked incessantly about women and girls but never by those names. Women were bitches, hos, freaks, hamsters, sluts. Each one they mentioned had a number that related, as far as Kristina could tell, to how attractive they were. There was no recognition of women as people. They weren’t even objects. It was hard to hate an object as much as they did.
There was something else. Or, rather, someone else. They had turned up the morning after Kristina was abducted. At first she’d thought they had come to rescue her. She quickly realized that she was wrong. They had come to gloat.
That person made Krank, the driver and the other one look like well-adjusted members of society. Kristina was left alone with them for an hour. It was the most painful, horrifying hour of her life. She had tried to let her mind escape and float free, but they wouldn’t allow that. They kept calling her back. They would lean down and whisper in her ear: ‘Be here, Kristina. Experience the moment. Live in the present.’
It was the voice that had shocked her back, that wouldn’t allow an escape. If she lived, Kristina knew that she would hear it in her nightmares. She had never seen the person the voice belonged to. She was always blindfolded before they arrived.
The voice. Not just what it said, but the sound of it. Just thinking of it made her shake uncontrollably.
It was a woman’s.
30
Stacy Becker, the object of the misguided affection that had made Marcus subject to a court order, lived in Cardinal Gardens, a USC student-apartment complex, on the north side of Jefferson Boulevard. As with a lot of the country’s illustrious seats of higher education, the USC campus was not based in the nicest of neighborhoods. Lock parked his Audi on McClintock Avenue and walked the short distance to Cardinal Gardens.