by Dan Padavona
“You think gang activity played a role in her disappearance?”
“It’s no secret the Kings want in on the competition’s prostitution empire. If the Kings wanted to send a message, knocking off a rival’s hooker would do the job. Bet you thought you were finished with this gang crap when you left LA.”
“It was a matter of time before it arrived in Nightshade.” Thomas turned the picture of a younger Erika Windrow toward him. She was the all-American girl next door. What drove her to prostitution? “Who reported the girl missing?”
Gray sat back and exhaled.
“The mother. Tessa Windrow keeps tabs on her daughter and claims she tried to talk her into returning home. According to Tessa, Erika agreed to meet her mother for coffee Saturday morning. The girl never showed, and the mother suspected the worst. Deputy Aguilar interviewed the girls who work Erika’s corner. Most of them wouldn’t talk, but one confirmed the 315 Royals are searching for her.”
“She could have run off. Maybe she wanted to get away from the Royals and start a new life.”
“That’s the best-case scenario. For now, we’re treating this as a missing person case. Bottom line, Tessa Windrow is a nuisance, and I want her out of my hair. She came in screaming an hour ago and threatened to turn the case over to a private investigator. It’s a free country, but I don’t want some local P.I. firm budding its nose into our investigation.”
Wolf Lake had a private investigation firm in town? That was news to him.
After Gray finished, Maggie confirmed his bank account information and asked him to sign another document. Deputy Aguilar waited for Thomas in the break room. The woman stood five feet tall in her shoes. What she lacked in height, she made up for in muscles. The woman’s biceps bulged against her sleeves, and her short-cut black hair framed an angular nose and square chin. Aguilar struck Thomas as someone he’d want by his side when all hell broke loose.
“You’re the local boy,” Aguilar said, giving Thomas a firm handshake.
“I grew up here, yes.”
“I looked into your background, Deputy Shepherd.” He cringed as Aguilar spoke. Too many officers treated Asperger’s like a disability. “LAPD. You played in the big leagues.”
“It’s not so different from Wolf Lake. Problems are the same everywhere.”
“Yeah, but Los Angeles has four million people. Nightshade County tops out at ninety thousand. More people, more problems. I understand you ran point on gang activity in South LA.”
“For four years and two months.”
“Then you’ll be an invaluable asset to the department.” Aguilar cracked her knuckles and worked a kink out of her neck. “We’ll cruise Harmon and speak to Erika Windrow’s known contacts.”
“What about the 315 Royals? Will they talk to us?”
“The head a-hole is a scumbag by the name of Troy Dean. He runs the prostitution ring. If our timing is right, we might catch him with the girls. Otherwise, the guy is a ghost. He doesn’t stay in one spot long.”
“What can you tell me about this LeVar Hopkins I keep hearing about?”
“Bad news personified. He’s the enforcer for the Harmon Kings. If someone owes the Kings money, they meet LeVar and usually regret it. What do you know about LeVar?”
“My neighbor is the ranger for the state park. According to him, LeVar canvassed Wolf Lake.”
“You’re referring to Darren Holt.”
“You’ve met Holt?”
“Nope, but I came through the Syracuse PD academy. They all knew Holt and called him one of Syracuse’s finest. Not sure why he traded the force to scoop bear shit off the trails. To each their own.”
Aguilar grabbed a protein bar for the road. The clock read nine when they set off for Harmon.
CHAPTER TEN
Raven Hopkins detested cases like this. Her long braids draped over the seat as she sank low in her black Nissan Rogue and watched the two-story motel across the road. Sitting on the edge of the village, the Wolf Lake Inn had lost its moniker as a family friendly destination. Now it catered to call girls, the drug game, and anyone who desired a clandestine rendezvous over lunch. The letters on the sign out front flickered as she pressed the binoculars to her eyes. The curtains stood closed on room eighteen.
A week ago, Hugh Fitzgerald staggered into the office with the reddened eyes of a hangover. Raven had been alone in the office. Hugh wanted proof Phoebe, his wife of twenty years, was sleeping with her supervisor, a ginger-haired beanpole named Norris Loxley. Hugh’s words, not hers. Wanting no part of another infidelity investigation, her boss handed Raven the case with a good-luck wink. For the last seven days and nights, Raven had followed Phoebe from her home to her office job on the village’s east end, then tracked the two-timer on lunch dates with Norris.
At age twenty-five, Raven craved a career change. The long hours in the Rogue locked up her back and gave her legs pins-and-needles, and she felt like a gossipy middle schooler when she caught people cheating on their spouses. But money was money, and Hugh paid handsomely for dirt on his wife. The camera on the passenger seat, affixed with a telephoto lens, held enough pictures to implicate Phoebe. Over the last seven days, Raven had photographed Phoebe and Norris holding hands on a park bench, both wearing black sunglasses as if playing roles in a tacky spy movie. She caught Phoebe kissing Norris behind an Italian restaurant and logged two pages of notes depicting the times and locations of various indiscretions.
This was the coup de grâce. Phoebe and Norris had entered the seedy motel room an hour ago and pulled the curtains. Raven photographed them entering the room. Now she just needed to snap their pictures on the way out, log the time, and hand Hugh a thumb drive of evidence.
Norris’s green VW bug sat on the street beside an expired parking meter. A car buzzed past Raven’s Rogue, fast enough to shake the SUV and give her a sense of vertigo. The curtains rustled as someone peeked out. Finally, some action inside the room. Raven edged up in the seat and scanned the silhouetted figure with the binoculars. Phoebe. Cursing herself for not photographing the woman’s paranoid glance, Raven snatched the camera and placed the binoculars beneath the seat.
Her phone hummed. It was Chelsey.
“Not now,” she muttered, recognizing her boss’s name on the screen.
The door to room eighteen opened a crack. A man with a ski slope nose, glasses, and a goatee stuck his head out and scanned the parking lot. Then a woman’s hand touched his arm, and the door swung shut again. Had Raven spooked them, or was Phoebe hungry for another romp? A snicker escaped Raven’s lips before her phone rattled again. She’d better take the call.
“Yeah?”
“Where are you?”
“Outside the Wolf Lake Inn, catching Phoebe Fitzgerald and her boy toy in the act, like you asked.”
Chelsey sighed. Raven loved her boss and cherished their friendship, but Chelsey always stuck Raven with these infidelity investigations.
“We have a problem.”
“Uh-oh,” Raven said, watching the door through the camera lens.
“Hugh called the office and sounded like he’d been drinking.”
Raven felt the investigation spinning out of control.
“Yeah?”
“He found out where Phoebe and Norris are shacking up.”
“Shit. Tell me he isn’t on his way.” Tires squealed around the corner before Raven’s boss answered. “He’s here. I’ve gotta go.”
Raven tossed the phone in the glove compartment and holstered her gun. As the door to room eighteen opened, Hugh’s massive Dodge Ram 1500 fishtailed around the corner. Norris pulled Phoebe inside the room, but kept the door open as the truck sped down the thoroughfare with ill intentions. Raven shot out of the Rogue, expecting to intercept Hugh before he got hold of Norris and did something stupid.
The truck kept coming. Raven lunged back from the street as the Ram changed directions and veered toward the curb. Christ. Hugh set his sights on Norris’s VW.
The tru
ck pancaked the VW from the side and drove it against the mailbox. Tires and metal shrieked. Envelopes rocketed into the air. The Ram smashed the VW over the curb where it toppled and spun on its top like a cartoon turtle. A hissing sound filled the air as someone screamed. Windows slid open, and looky-loos ventured outside to check on the clamor.
Hugh’s Ram lay disabled. The front end perched upon the mailbox, the wheels spinning with unspent momentum. Raven dragged herself off the sidewalk and dusted the grit off her hands. Her body trembled with shock.
Norris staggered into the parking lot with his hands pressing against his cheeks and his chin hanging to his chest. The driver’s side door opened on the Ram, and Hugh stumbled out of the vehicle and landed on his ass. He winced and sat there a moment. There was something in his hand. A gun? Raven sprinted toward Hugh as Phoebe stood frozen in the lot with a disbelieving hand over her mouth. The reality registered on Phoebe’s face, and she broke away from Norris and marched toward her husband. Right into the line of fire.
“Are you insane?” Phoebe stomped her feet. “What the hell are you doing?”
Norris tried to hold her back as Hugh rose to his feet. The gun dangled off the husband’s fingers. No time to think, Raven leaped the wreckage and drove her shoulder into Hugh, blindsiding the larger man. The gun clinked against the ground. Good lord, it wasn’t a real gun. Hugh came armed with a child’s toy.
Raven struggled with Hugh until she wrestled his arms behind his back. She held him flat and reached for the zip tie in her back pocket. A moment later, she secured Hugh by the wrists as a siren approached.
“You cheated on me, you lying bitch!”
Spittle flew from Hugh’s lips. At least he didn’t fight Raven. He didn’t even pay attention to her.
“Look at what you did,” Phoebe said, motioning wide-eyed at the crumpled VW. “You could have killed somebody.”
“What do you see in this guy? You slept with him? He’s a pencil neck geek.”
“Hey!” Norris said, fixing his crooked glasses.
“Hold still,” Raven said. “The sheriff’s department is on the way. This will go better for you if you relax and cooperate.”
Phoebe swiped a tear off her eye.
“Well, at least he pays attention to me. I lost two dress sizes over the last three months, and you didn’t even notice.”
“I work long hours,” Hugh said. “Someone has to put food on the table.”
“I work too, you fat jackass.”
“Yeah, for the guy you’re sleeping with.”
Phoebe dropped to her knees in front of Hugh. Raven eyed the woman with consternation. If Phoebe or Norris attacked Hugh, Raven would lose control of the situation.
“Why did you do it, baby?” Hugh said, crooning. “Twenty years together, and you don’t love me anymore.”
“Oh, you big fool. I love you. All I wanted was someone to treat me like a woman for once. You think I care about this loser?”
“Whoa,” Norris said, lifting his palms. “I’m right here.”
“Shut up, Norris.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up. You know what? You can have your asshole husband. Pick up your belongings and don’t come back to the office. You’re fired.”
Hugh thrashed beneath Raven.
“You can’t talk to my girl like that. We’ll sue you for sexual harassment. Yeah, sleeping with your employee and firing her after she dumps you. That has to break like five or six constitutional amendments. Take the tie off my hands. I’m gonna punch his lights out.”
Phoebe dropped a hand on Hugh’s shoulder. Her presence tamed the unruly beast. Nonplussed, Raven observed the interchange as Norris marched back and forth between his shattered car and the sidewalk. The sheriff’s department cruiser buzzed around the corner with flashing lights.
“You’d stand up for me and save my job?” Phoebe asked with misty eyes.
“You’re my girl, baby cakes. It’s you and me forever.” He craned his neck to stare back at Raven. “This is all a big misunderstanding. Let me go. I promise I’ll pay for the damage.”
Raven sighed.
“That’s between you and the deputies, Hugh.”
“Ah, shit.”
The cruiser stopped at the curb as Raven pinned him to the sidewalk. First thing tomorrow, she was asking for a raise.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A second cruiser pulled behind Thomas and Aguilar as they stepped from the vehicle. Aguilar let him take the lead, and she wore a wry grin, anxious to watch Thomas work through the logistics of this mess. He looked over his shoulder as Sheriff Gray crawled out of his cruiser and hobbled to the curb on old knees.
A scene from The Far Side played out in front of Thomas. A skinny man with a bad goatee and crooked glasses pulled his hair as he gazed at a crumpled VW. The car lay belly up. Steam poured from the hood. On the sidewalk, a rotund man wearing a tee-shirt soaked with sweat stains had his wrists bound behind his back. A woman, ostensibly the man’s wife or girlfriend, knelt beside him and stroked his greasy hair. Then there was the Dodge Ram wedged upon a mailbox with half the village’s mail blowing back and forth on the sidewalk.
The woman holding the man flat pulled his attention. He recognized her from Hattie’s. This was Chelsey’s friend, the woman who rolled her eyes at Ray Welch. What was she doing here?
“You know her?” Thomas asked Aguilar.
“Not by name. She works for Wolf Lake Consulting. That’s the P.I. firm Erika Windrow’s mother hired.”
“What the hell happened here?” Gray asked, removing his hat and wiping his head.
“What do you think, Mr. LAPD detective?” Aguilar asked, snickering. “Sort this mother out for us.”
Thomas listened as the private investigator detailed the events. Raven seemed an appropriate name for the investigator. Her eyes pierced through Thomas when she spoke, and her physique rivaled Aguilar’s, though this woman stood several inches taller and possessed a lean strength that nobody in their right mind would tangle with.
“Now I’ve seen it all,” Gray said after Raven finished.
The skinny guy with the goatee was Norris Loxley, Phoebe’s boss. He kept screaming he’d sue Hugh Fitzgerald, and Phoebe better not show her face at the office. Aguilar read Hugh his rights. He didn’t hear a word, he was so focused on Phoebe’s doe eyes.
“We’ll need a tow truck for this mess,” Gray said.
Aguilar spoke into her shoulder radio.
“Good thing he didn’t strike the hotel,” Aguilar added after she confirmed tow trucks were on the way. “I can’t believe the VW is the only damaged vehicle.”
“Damaged?” Norris said with incredulous eyes. “That bastard destroyed my car. What if I’d been inside when he crashed into it? He would have killed me.”
“Can it, Mr. Loxley.”
Norris opened his mouth to argue and clamped it shut as Aguilar fixed him with an icy stare. The female deputy tossed the cruiser’s keys to Thomas and hauled Hugh to his feet.
“You’re in charge of taking statements, rookie,” Aguilar called over her shoulder as she marched Hugh to Gray’s cruiser. “Meet you back at the office.”
The paperwork for this case would keep Thomas busy for the next week. His fellow officers detested paperwork. Thomas found working in silence soothing.
“Where are you taking my husband?” Phoebe yelled. “He said he was sorry.”
Raven stood and brushed her clothes off. She shared a grin with Thomas as Phoebe protested her husband’s arrest.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Raven asked as Gray’s cruiser drove off.
Phoebe and Norris awaited questioning, avoiding each other in the parking lot.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” said Thomas, hoping she didn’t recognize him from Hattie’s.
Eventually, Chelsey would learn Thomas was in Wolf Lake. He was delaying the inevitable. After introductions, Raven gave Thomas the rundown and recounted Hugh’s onslaught after he caught Phoeb
e cheating on him. Raven lived a mile from Thomas, which meant Chelsey might pass his place on her way to Raven’s house. When the private investigator left, Thomas watched her black Nissan Rogue round the corner.
He took statements from Phoebe and Norris while two trucks towed away the damaged vehicles. He radioed back to the office after he finished. It was almost lunchtime, and his stomach grumbled. A familiar scent reached his nose. Fresh donuts. On the next block, he recognized the sign for the Broken Yolk. Ruth Sims had owned the shop since he was a kid, and she’d always served the best coffee and glazed donuts in the village.
He moved the cruiser to the municipal lot and circled back to the sidewalk. When he turned the corner, a black Chrysler Limited passed the inn. Hip hop blasted from the speakers, the bass so heavy Thomas felt it in his bones. Thomas watched as the vehicle slowed in front of the wreckage. A black male with dreadlocks and tattooed arms leaned out the window as he cruised past. LeVar Hopkins. He seemed to be looking for someone.
Thomas’s heart raced and his hands tingled. He couldn’t shake the image of the rival gang pulling up during the raid. Then shouts from a DEA agent to get down before the shooting started. Thomas threw himself at another agent, who reacted too slowly. The bullet struck him from behind and drove the air from his lungs. It felt as if his back caught fire as he fell on his hands and knees.
As the Chrysler crawled down the thoroughfare, Thomas snapped photographs with his phone. LeVar’s head turned toward the deputy, and for a second, their eyes met. When LeVar didn’t find his target, he kicked the accelerator, pulling the vehicle down the road.
Thomas followed LeVar with his eyes until he turned toward the north end of the village. If LeVar didn’t veer off course, he’d drive past the A-frame and the state park. Thomas swiped the phone to his messages and sent a text to Darren. The ranger requested Thomas alert him if he spotted LeVar near the lake. Did LeVar and the Harmon Kings have something to do with Erika Windrow’s disappearance? He pocketed his phone and radioed Aguilar that LeVar was in the village again. Then his stomach reminded him why he’d walked down this block.