“You want me to babysit?”
“I don’t have anyone else I trust.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t.” He picked up a toothpick and chewed.
Angel came out. “Jake, can I crash on the couch?” She pointed.
Lucky said, “Take the first bedroom on the left, next to the bathroom. It’s kind of a mess, but there’re clean sheets in the dresser.”
Jake walked down the hall with Angel. “You okay, kid?”
“I’m just tired.”
Jake wished he could read her. She wasn’t being mouthy, and she looked like death warmed over. “Is your side okay?”
“No blood.”
“Good.”
She hesitated, then asked, “Why does he call you Jams?”
“Because I have a reputation for getting out of tight spots.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get you out of this, Angel. I promise.”
She nodded and closed the door.
Chapter Eight
Thanks to Lucky, Jake listened into the police frequencies and learned a lot more about what had happened at the group home and Angel’s status.
It was worse than he’d thought. She’d been listed as armed and dangerous and affiliated with G-5. The shooting at his apartment was also on the police channels, but they hadn’t connected it with Angel.
“Are you sure she’s not involved with the gang?” Lucky asked. He handed Jake a fresh cup of black coffee.
“Yes,” Jake said without hesitation.
“Seems to me you have a lot of trust in a little girl you’ve never met before.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Just saying, something’s fishy here. Even if she isn’t involved, is she telling you the whole story?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
He’d been a cop, had dealt with teenagers like Angel a thousand times. They had a natural distrust of cops. Coupled with the fact that she’d thought he was a deadbeat dad her entire life, he wouldn’t blame her for keeping information to herself.
But someone was trying to kill her. Until tonight, she’d only been wanted as a material witness. Now, she was wanted for far more serious charges. She wasn’t safe on the streets. He didn’t even know if she was safe here.
Lucky said, “You gotta find out who’s ratting her out to the G-5s. Once you do that, you’ll know who to turn her over to.”
“I’m not turning her over to anyone.”
“You gonna keep her? What were you, eighteen when you got her mother knocked up?” Lucky snorted. “You’re a thirty-four-year-old former Marine ex felon. What you doing now?”
“Working for Cutler.”
“No shit? Clive Cutler? Bastard. You think he’s straight?”
“Crooked as they come, but he’s not going to turn on me. I also didn’t tell him where I found her, or that I was taking her back to my place.”
“Healthy level of distrust is always good.” Lucky gulped down coffee. “Why’s she doing this at all? People just don’t testify against gangbangers out of the goodness of their heart.”
“To save her friend,” Jake muttered.
“Why’d they send her to juvie in the first place? Why not protective custody or something?”
Jake didn’t have a good answer. Angel had been evasive, and there was a lot of time unaccounted for. Jake was certain there was more to the story than Angel said. He needed information, but he first needed to find out if Larson was the one who set her up. “Do you have a burner phone?” he said.
Lucky rummaged through his desk and tossed Jake a small Nokia. Jake called Cutler.
“The cops are all over your place,” Cutler said in lieu of a hello. “You’re not answering your phone. What the fuck is going on?”
“Angel witnessed a gang execution and is set to testify on Monday morning. They’re trying to stop her. I need information.”
“I’ve been up half the night. The cops are looking for you.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because your apartment and car are all shot up?”
“My car? They messed with my car?”
“Shot it up, burned it out. Cops just want to ask you questions.”
“So they know Angel’s my kid?” Better his car than his daughter. But damn, why’d they have to destroy the Charger? He liked that car.
“I don’t think they’ve made the connection.”
“You don’t sound confident.”
“Shit, Jake, I don’t know. The cops didn’t ask me about her. They just wanted to know where you were.”
“And what’d you tell them?”
“You’re on a job, I don’t know where the hell you are. It’s the truth, right?”
“What’s the theory about the group home shooting?”
“She’s wanted as an accomplice. They haven’t ID’d any of the shooters, but they have her name.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Maybe you should call Burke.”
Jake’s blood ran hot, then cold. “No.”
“She lives for this shit.”
“No.”
“Just saying, she got you out of a couple jams, she can help your kid.”
No way was Jake calling in defense attorney Madeleine Burke unless he absolutely had to. “Did you find out anything on Larson?”
“Not much. Born and bred in the Valley. Rising star in the DA’s office.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all I could find in the middle of the fucking night, Morrison.”
“Find out what she does in her off-hours. If she has vices she doesn’t want her boss to know about. Background. Everything.”
“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking—“
“Don’t think, just do.” Jake hung up.
Lucky said, “Do you read the papers?”
Jake glanced around at the tidy mess of newspaper. “Not if I can avoid it.”
Lucky grabbed one near the top. “Saturday’s Times.” He flipped through most of it, then folded it over and pointed to a small box on the crime page. No photos, just two paragraphs.
Two bodies found in canal
Los Angeles—Late Thursday, a routine patrol found two bodies, an unidentified male and female, in a wash south near the Orange Line overcross. The coroner released a preliminary report Friday afternoon asking for help in identifying the victims, made more difficult by time spent underwater. He did not release the cause of death, and the murders are currently under investigation by the LAPD.
The female, Hispanic, approximately fifteen, has an elaborate cross tattoo down the center of her back. She was four months pregnant. The male, also Hispanic, approximately seventeen, had no distinguishing marks, but wore a gold chain around his neck and is missing two fingers on his left hand, possibly a birth defect. If anyone has information about this case, please contact the LAPD hotline, or the LA Medical Examiner’s Office.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“You think it’s her friend,” Lucky said.
“Why would the gang kill one of their own? The boy is their family.”
“Betrayal. Or it wasn’t the G-5 gang.”
“Rivals? War? This is why I never worked the gang task force.”
Lucky got up and stared at his bookshelf near the front door. He frowned. “Something’s missing.” He walked over and looked under papers. “My .22.”
Jake saw five guns of all makes and models in his line of sight, without turning his head. “You sure?”
“It was right here on the bookshelf.”
Jake glanced down the hall. Angel had gone to the bedroom an hour ago. He walked down the hall, knocked on the door. No answer. Opened it.
The window was open. Angel was gone.
Chapter Nine
Angel had slipped out through the sliding glass door in Lucky’s bedroom, next to the room where she’d been resting and quickly walked away from the house, in case Jake was watching from the front wind
ow.
Leaving Lucky’s house was the hardest decision Angel had made in the last week. Everything else she seemed to just know. She knew she had to go to the police about Raul Garcia. She knew she had to run when she was being shot at. But for the first time since this entire ordeal began, she’d felt almost safe with Jake.
Except he didn’t trust her.
She couldn’t blame him, but it hurt. Eavesdropping on his conversation with Lucky made her feel like shit, but she had to know what was going on. He thought she was holding back, and just because he said he’d protect her didn’t mean that he could. And then he was thinking about calling the cops. She didn’t care if this guy was a friend of his, the police scanner said she was a wanted fugitive. They thought she was part of the gang that killed a cop. She knew how bad this was, that if LAPD thought she was a cop killer, she wasn’t going to be given much chance to explain.
And what if she got Jake killed? There was too much at stake. Angel didn’t trust anyone, G-5 or the cops. She just didn’t know what or who to believe.
Jake was right that she was holding something back, but she’d told him everything important. What she didn’t tell him was really none of his damn business. That Marisa was pregnant with George Garcia’s baby shouldn’t matter at all. It was Marisa’s business, no one else’s. Angel didn’t even know know – she’d guessed, and Marisa had just burst into tears and ran off. She’d still given her statement, before telling George she wouldn’t go through with it. She had to be hiding, right? Maybe Marisa and George, hiding together until this whole thing blew over.
Except George wouldn’t turn on his brother. Maybe Marisa joined G-5 and now Angel’s best friend, too, was after her.
She wanted to let Jake solve her problems. Jams. Yep, get her out of this jam. It was a doozy. But he didn’t trust her, and if he didn’t trust her why was he even helping? Out of guilt? Guilt for leaving her with a drunk mother who stole her child support? If he was telling the truth about that.
The weight of the small gun she’d stolen from Lucky added to her guilty heart. She didn’t want Lucky to get into trouble for helping Jake. Or her.
She had an idea. She’d heard Jake’s talking about the prosecutor, Larson, and it seemed that if Angel could get to her, she could get some protection, maybe even give her statement early. Larson could find a judge to listen to her on a Sunday, couldn’t she? If Angel was on record, that would make her safe, right?
She didn’t know. She didn’t understand the system because she’d worked hard to stay out of it. Juvie, she got. Court, she didn’t. And murder—this was way over her head.
The rain had stopped. It was a quiet Sunday morning. She hoped she looked like she fit in, but she’d never fit in anywhere.
She cut through a couple yards. When she rounded the corner onto the main thoroughfare, she walked right into Jake.
She stared, surprised. Before she could even think of running, he grabbed her arm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go.
“You’re hurting me.”
“I’ll hurt you a hell of a lot more if you don’t tell me the truth right now.”
“Why? You didn’t believe me before.”
“What makes you think I didn’t believe you? Because you’re feeling guilty for lying to me? Your actions make me think I shouldn’t have trusted you.”
“This isn’t your problem!”
He dropped her arm and for a split second, Angel thought he was going to hit her. But he took three steps back and shook his head. “What do you want from me?”
“What do you want from me?”
“Trust.”
“Ditto.”
They were at a standstill. Jake said, “Does Marisa have a tattoo of a cross on her back?”
Angel’s chest tightened. “Y-yes. A lot of people have crosses. I have a cross.” She lifted up her jeans and showed him the cross on the back of her calf.
“Does it go down the length of her back? Elaborate?”
“Why?”
“Was she pregnant?”
Angel’s eyes watered. “How do you know this?”
“She’s dead.”
Angel shook her head. “No.”
“You will be too, if you don’t trust me.”
Her chest heaved and she could hardly catch her breath. Marisa was dead. She’d really been pregnant and she was really dead. All this—all that she was doing was to save her friend, and now she had no one. Because her friend, her only friend, was dead.
She blinked back the tears, refusing to cry, especially in front of this tough guy who seemed to have no emotion but anger.
He could have let her walk away. He didn’t have to look for her, to risk his life to save her.
“You don’t know me,” she whispered.
“You’re my daughter. That’s all I need to know.”
Was it truly as simple as that?
“Gun.” He held out his hand.
She handed him the .22 she’d stolen, butt first. It disappeared in his pocket.
“I’ll teach you how to shoot when this is over,” he said.
Which implied he planned to see her again. The thought felt really, really weird. Almost scary.
But deep down, in a place she barely acknowledged, an unfamiliar sense of peace spread.
Chapter Ten
Lucky was an amazing cook, Angel noted as she cleaned her plate. “Is there more?” she asked.
Lucky laughed. “You’ll never go hungry in my house,” he said. “My mama was born and raised in Alabama.” He said it as if it meant something. Angel didn’t know what, but if it meant more of the chicken and potatoes that he’d cooked, she was down with that.
He scooped more onto her plate and Angel listened to Jake talk on the phone with some guy named Cutler. When he got off, he said, “I have an idea, but it might not work.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“I know a criminal defense lawyer who might be able to help you.”
She stared at him, her appetite gone. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I didn’t say you did. I want you to get your statement on tape, and the best way to do that, and get it to a judge, is to have someone in the system do it. Maddie is the only one I trust.”
“Maddie? Your girlfriend?” She sounded bitchy, but right now she didn’t want anyone else involved in her problems.
Jake shook his head. “She arranged my plea agreement, and sends me jobs now and then since I’ve been out of prison.”
Maddie. His lawyer. Right.
“Whatev.”
“Lose the attitude.”
Lucky grinned. “I like the attitude, Jams.”
Angel smiled and took another bite of chicken. Now, she really was stuffed. She drank the milk Lucky had poured. Her second glass. She didn’t remember the last time she’d eaten this much food. Except for the Cheerios at Jake’s, she hadn’t eaten since Friday morning.
“Why don’t we just find Kristina Larson?” Angel said. “The prosecutor? She’ll believe me. I already told her everything.”
“Who else was there when you spoke to her?”
“First Marisa went in and talked to her, then I did. She said she didn’t want us influencing each other’s statements.”
“I meant, who else in her office. A cop? Assistant?”
“Um, no one, but I assumed someone was watching or she was recording it.” She looked from Jake to Lucky and back again. “What?”
“I don’t trust her. Either she’s the one who leaked the information about your whereabouts, or someone in her office did. We don’t go there, not without complete protection. That means you have a video statement, you have an attorney, and you have me.”
“Like I can afford an attorney. I don’t think you can, either.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“And then what? I just … wait?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not our responsibility.”
Angel stared at him. “Of course it is! Marisa is dead. She was my best friend—my only friend. Her parents don’t even know. I’m the one who convinced Marisa to go to the police. I’m the one who forced her to sit down with Kristina Larson. She’d still be alive if I didn’t!”
“It’s not on you.”
“I thought the Marines were all about honor and doing what’s right.” She pushed away from the table. “I was wrong.” She walked off.
She didn’t expect Jake to come after her, but he did, and he spun her around. “Not if it gets you killed.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
She stared at him, chin out. She was not going to back down on this. “If I don’t do something to stop the person who set me up, Marisa died for nothing.”
Jake ran his hands over his head. “Let me think on it.”
“I have to do something,” she said.
“First, we talk to Maddie. Agreed?”
She didn’t have much of a choice. And she’d promised to trust him.
She hoped she didn’t misplace that trust.
###
While Lucky went to the store for supplies, Jake tried every number he had for Madeleine Burke, but she wasn’t home, she wasn’t at the office, and she wasn’t picking up her cell phone. He left her one message without a return number and told her to call Cutler.
“So now,” Angel said, clearing her plate, “we go with Plan B.”
“I think we’re on Plan K by now,” Jake muttered.
“I could always record a statement and post it on YouTube for the world to see.”
“Let’s not.”
“Just saying.”
Jake needed to think, and it didn’t help that he’d had only a couple cat naps to sustain him.
He called Cutler on the burner phone.
“I need Kristina Larson’s home address.”
“She’s a prosecutor. No fucking way can I get it. You want me to go to prison? I mean, shit, Jake, it’s not--”
“I’ll call you in five minutes.” He hung up.
36 Hours Page 5