36 Hours

by Brennan, Allison

  While telling Maddie and the camera everything, Angel remembered what the cops, Friday and Martinez, said in the car when they picked her up from juvie. The transfer order had come from the DA’s office. Maddie had thought that was strange, Angel could tell by her expression, even though she didn’t say specifically why it had been unusual.

  Angel hadn’t thought about it then, because it didn’t seem important. But now? Coupled with everything else she knew? Kristina Larson, the ADA herself, had told the G-5 gang where she was. It was the only logical explanation.

  Angel had memorized the ADA’s address when Jake had written it on his hand. It wasn’t far from the house in Los Feliz, and she hotwired a car around the corner because she knew that as soon as Jake figured out she was gone, he’d come looking for her. She drove the winding roads up the mountain, until she was almost at the top.

  Kristina Larson lived in a large, two-story hillside mansion with a view of downtown L.A. Being a lawyer must pay really well. Though it was midnight, the lights were on in the house.

  Angel checked the wire she’d taped to her stomach. She’d get one chance. Lucky had shown her how to hook up the cell phone to the recorder to create a one-way transmission. In case she was killed, she wanted Kristina Larson to go to prison for the rest of her life.

  She got out of the car and walked around to the back of the house. It was built on a slope, with a large reinforced deck that seemed to be suspended in air. Angel wouldn’t want to be here during an earthquake.

  Angel hid in the shadows. Curtains covered the large plate glass windows, but the blinds hadn’t been pulled over the sliding glass door. She saw Larson pacing the living room, talking on her phone. Angel couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the ADA was mad.

  Larson suddenly threw her phone across the room. Angel jumped, then took a deep breath.

  Now or never, A.

  She knocked on the sliding glass door. If Kristina called the police, that would prove she wasn’t involved with the gangs. Angel hoped. If she opened the door, she was one of them—or working for them. At least, that was Angel’s working theory.

  “Jake, if you can hear this,” she said, talking quietly, “thanks for having faith in me.”

  Kristina cautiously approached the door. Angel stepped out of the shadows and the ADA stopped, disbelief crossing her face. Then she unlocked the door and slid it open. “Angel! Are you okay?”

  “I’ve been better,” she said.

  God, that sounded so cliché.

  “I need help,” Angel said.

  “How do you know where I live?”

  Angel shrugged. “I have a friend who can get any address or number I want.”

  “Your father?”

  Angel was surprised Kristina knew about Jake. Or did that confirm that she’d told the Garcias about Jake’s Burbank apartment? “N-no.” Normally, she could lie smoothly, but Kristina caught her off-guard.

  “It’s okay. I know he’s been helping you.” Larson cautiously peered over Angel’s shoulder and scanned the deck. “Is he here?”

  “I ditched him earlier tonight. I’ve been walking around, trying to figure out what to do, and you’re the only person who can help me.”

  Kristina said, “Come in.” She closed and locked the door. “Actually, Angel, you can help me.”

  “How?”

  Kristina said, “Have you eaten?”

  “I’m not hungry,” she said. She glanced around. “You have a real nice place.”

  “Thank you. How about water?” She turned toward the kitchen.

  “Okay,” Angel said slowly. She followed Kristina. She wished she had a better plan. What had she expected?

  She blurted out, “Marisa’s dead.”

  Kristina whirled around, eyes wide. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I read it in the newspaper. Her body hasn’t been identified, but I know it’s her.”

  “That’s awful.” Kristina retrieved a water bottle from the refrigerator and put it on the counter between them. “But she was playing a dangerous game. And so are you.”

  Kristina pulled a gun from under the kitchen counter and held it on Angel.

  Angel put her hands up. “I don’t have a gun. I don’t have anything. I just need your help.”

  “You’ve been my fucking nightmare this week. Do you see these bags under my eyes?” She used her free hand to point to her face. “Those are because of you. Why couldn’t you just have rolled over and taken it?”

  “What did I do?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re that stupid. You must have figured it out by now. When the Garcias found out that you and your friend came to talk to me, I had to give you guys up. Marisa was much easier than you. But when the cops finally found you Saturday, it was the answer to my prayers. I arranged for the transfer, told Garcia where you’d be, and it should have been easy. Do you know how hard it is to be under their fucking thumb? And then you get away and they blame me because their fucking boys can’t shoot straight?”

  Kristina pulled a phone from a drawer, different than the phone she’d tossed across the room. “Now, we’ll be done with this and I can get my life back.”

  Angel had thought the ADA had set her up, but thinking and knowing it were completely different.

  She regained her attitude. This woman had had Marisa killed. “You fucking bitch.”

  Kristina laughed. “Really, that’s all you have? LAPD is looking for you, and believe me, they don’t like cop killers.”

  “You did it. You killed those cops.”

  “Hardly.” She dialed a number. A moment later she said, “I found her. I’ll bring her to the butterfly garden at Griffith Park … no, no, there are security cameras at the observatory and the zoo … I don’t care, look it up on a fucking map!” She hung up the phone. Her hands were shaking. “You don’t think they’ll kill me, too?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Kristina gestured with her gun toward a door on the far side of the great room. “We’re going in my car. You’re driving.”

  “They must know something about you that’s pretty bad, bad enough to lose your job if it got out.” Angel ran through a bunch of ideas—how did a gorgeous, white prosecutor get in bed with a violent Mexican gang?

  She glanced around the huge house, with all the furniture and glass and plush carpets.

  Was this all about money?

  Kristina wasn’t talking. At gunpoint, she ordered Angel to get behind the wheel of a BMW. She’d never been in a car this nice, let alone driven one.

  “You’re going to have to shoot me,” Angel said. “I’m not going to let you turn me over to them. I told you what they did to those girls.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “You can’t kill me because then you’d have a lot of explaining to do, but if Garcia kills me, you can brush it all off as gang violence.”

  “I knew you were smart.”

  “I’m not going.” Angel took her hands off the wheel. Had Jake found her yet? Did the recording work? Could he hear what’s going on? She couldn’t tell him her plan, because he’d never let her do this, but if she didn’t do this, then they’d be on the run the rest of their lives. This week had nearly killed her; she couldn’t do this for the rest of her life.

  Kristina leaned over and said, “If you don’t go, I’ll send your father back to prison.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  She laughed. “Really? I’m a fucking assistant district attorney. I know exactly how to jam him up, and I’ll make sure this time it isn’t in a minimum security federal pen. I’ll send him up north to Folsom and they’ll smell cop all over him.”

  Angel spit in Kristina’s face. The ADA hit her with the gun and Angel’s head went into the steering wheel. Blood dripped down her nose.

  “Go. Now. Do not test me.”

  Angel pulled out of the garage. Kristina directed her where to drive.

  Angel looked for an opportunity to r
un. She had Kristina on tape (she hoped); now she had to find a way to escape.

  Not a good idea with a gun at your side.

  They would most likely arrive at the butterfly garden before Garcia’s boys. How good of a shot was the ADA? This close, Angel would be dead. But if she could put distance between them, she had a chance.

  They arrived far quicker than Angel expected. There were no lights, the parking lot was completely dark. Weren’t there patrols or something? Was this mountaintop so isolated, even in the middle of the largest city in California, that they wouldn’t be disturbed?

  Angel put started to open the door and Kristina said, “Don’t.” She frowned and her eyes scanned the area. “Turn off the lights,” she ordered.

  “Now what?”

  “We wait.”

  Angel wiped the blood off her face. “Do you have a tissue or something?”

  “I think your bloody nose is the least of your worries, Angel.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  Kristina didn’t answer her. She was watching the entry to the parking lot carefully.

  There was nothing here. Maybe the butterflies hung around during the day but right now they were sitting in a lot, surrounded by bushes and trees so dark that Angel couldn’t make out more than the general shape. The overcast sky blocked any moonlight, and from their angle, Angel couldn’t see the city lights at the bottom of the mountain.

  “They should be here,” Kristina muttered a few minutes later.

  “Why don’t we try again tomorrow?” Angel suggested.

  “Shut. Up.”

  The ADA was nervous. She had to know that someone would figure all this out. Jake knew the truth. There was the video recording … and the longer Angel sat here, waiting for the Garcias to come and kill her, the less chance she had of surviving.

  “You know, Kristina,” Angel said, “I recorded what happened at the warehouse, how the G-5 gang raped and killed those two hookers.”

  “What?!?”

  She’d meant to say that she’d recorded her statement, but it came out wrong. But maybe the white lie was exactly what she needed to buy her time.

  “On my cell phone.”

  “Where’s your fucking phone?”

  “I gave it to Jake. My dad.” That sounded strange on her tongue. Dad. “He said he knew who to give it to.”

  “You liar.” But her tone was uncertain.

  “I’m not lying. I was there. And you’re helping a killer.”

  “You could never understand.”

  “You’re right. I can’t understand how someone like you would help violent, drug dealing assholes like Raul Garcia.”

  “They were just a couple of whores,” Kristina muttered. “I’m not going to lose everything because of people like them.” She turned to Angel. “Because of worthless bitches like you.”

  Kristina took out her phone and hit redial. A minute later she snapped it shut. “Dammit! Where the hell are they?”

  Lights cut across the parking lot, then went dark. A van rolled into the small lot, then stopped. The back door opened, but Angel didn’t see anyone.

  “Now, you can get out,” Kristina said.

  Angel hesitated. “Jake knows that I told you everything. They’re going to know you’re involved.”

  “I already have everything taken care of. Even if you really did record the killings, that doesn’t mean that I knew anything about it. Now, get the fuck out of my car.”

  Angel opened the door and got out. Kristina slid over to the driver’s seat. Her gun was still aimed at Angel. “I’d say sorry, but you fucked with me, and I hope it hurts.”

  Angel started toward the van. She didn’t see anyone inside. Now was the time to run.

  She turned left and sprinted toward the trees. She heard Kristina scream behind her and a gunshot went off. Angel kept running, but a suddenly explosion of light surrounded her. She stumbled and fell, her ankle cracking loud enough to hear over her thudding heart and commotion behind her. She tried to get back up, but the pain shot through her leg and she fell back down.

  “LAPD. Throw your weapon out of the vehicle,” a loud booming voice said, enhanced by a speaker. “Get out of the car with your hands in plain sight.”

  The cops? The cops were here?

  Someone was running toward her, but in the bright lights she only saw a dark figure carrying a large gun. She was going to be caught in the crossfire, between LAPD and the G-5 gang. She started to crawl away, aiming for bushes. Anyplace but where she was.

  “Angel!”

  She heard her name at the same time as a helicopter flew in and hovered over the site, its searchlight on Kristina’s car.

  “Angel, it’s Jake.”

  He helped her up. “Put your weight on me,” he said. He half carried her over to the far side of the lot. More men were in the bushes. They were also cops. “Are you bleeding?”

  “I—I think I broke my ankle.”

  “You’re sure you weren’t shot?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Still, he checked her out. He found the recorder and phone she’d strapped to her stomach. “We heard everything,” he said. He took off the equipment and Angel winced. “Sorry,” he muttered. He handed the recording to someone else, who put it in a plastic bag and walked away.

  “Watch.” He pointed to where Kristina Larson was getting out of her car, her hands on her head. Six cops swarmed down on her, cuffed and searched her, then took her to a cop car that pulled in behind the van.

  “I don’t understand. Where’s Raul Garcia?”

  “We detained them coming up the hill. Took the van because we knew she had a gun on you. We needed her to let you go.” He held her face in his hands. “That was stupid, Angel. Stupid.” He kissed her forehead. “Far too dangerous. This could have ended so very badly.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked.

  “But we got her on tape. The whole thing. That was smart, setting up your phone to the recorder.”

  “Lucky showed me how.”

  “I don’t know whether to hit him or kiss him.”

  She hugged him. Her whole body was shaking, but he made her feel safe and secure. Maybe even a little loved.

  Jake hugged her back. “Angel, we have a motto in the Marines. Leave no man behind. I’m not leaving you again.”

  “You don’t have to say that,” she said. “It’s okay—I understand.”

  “What do you understand?” He held her by the shoulders and looked at her. The pain and fear on his face was real. He cared. “I’m your father. I fucked up when I stayed out of your life. I didn’t think you needed or wanted me. I’m not the same person I was then. I need you as much as you need me.”

  “It’s not going to be easy,” she said. “My mom, this whole mess--”

  “Life is fucking messy. We’ll clean it up, together.”

  Angel hugged Jake and breathed easier than she had in weeks. Maybe in her whole life. “I think I can live with that, Dad.”

  ###

  NOTORIOUS

  Exclusive Excerpt – Uncorrected Proofs

  Coming in hardcover and e-book from Minotaur Books

  April 1, 2014

  From the cover:

  New York Times bestselling author Allison Brennan introduces an irrepressible heroine in her pulse-pounding new thriller Notorious, which Lisa Gardner says is, "Guaranteed to keep you up late at night."

  Maxine Revere has dedicated her life to investigating murders that the police have long since given up any hope of solving. A nationally renowned investigative reporter with her own TV show and a tough-as-nails reputation, Max tackles cold cases from across the country and every walk of life. But the one unsolved murder that still haunts her is a case from her own past.

  When Max was a high school senior, one of her best friends was strangled and another, Kevin O’Neal, accused of the crime. To the disgrace of her wealthy family, Max stood by her friend, until she found out he lied about
his alibi. Though his guilt was never proven, their relationship crumbled from the strain of too many secrets.

  Now Max is home for Kevin’s funeral—after years of drug abuse, he committed suicide. She’s finally prepared to come to terms with the loss of his friendship, but she’s not prepared for Kevin’s sister to stubbornly insist that he didn’t kill himself. Or for an elderly couple to accost her at the airport, begging her to look into another murder at Max’s old high school. Max is more interested in the cold case at her alma mater than in digging around Kevin’s troubled life, but she agrees to do both. As Max uncovers dark secrets, she finds herself caught in a complicated web of lies that hit far too close to home. And it’s becoming increasingly clear that someone will do whatever it takes to make sure the truth stays buried.

  “Brennan’s NOTORIOUS introduces readers to a new and fascinating heroine worth rooting for. She’s an investigative reporter who’s not afraid to kick butt, climb a tree, or go to jail in pursuit of her story. She’s savvy and smart and takes no prisoners. Buckle up and brace yourself for Maxine Revere.” —SANDRA BROWN

  NOTORIOUS

  A Max Revere Thriller

  By Allison Brennan

  Prologue

  Hester has returned.

  Lindy Ames double-underlined the sentence, the ballpoint pen leaving a deep gouge in the paper. She slammed the diary shut and slid it back onto the bookshelf, the spine blending in with all the other books that no one would read. Decoration. Stately books in a handsome room.

  It had been luck—or maybe some cruel god rubbing her face in her own failings—that she’d seen the slut at the clinic and put two and two together. The timing was right. Why should Lindy be upset? It wasn’t like she and William had an exclusive relationship—they were both sneaking around behind the backs of their friends and significant others.

  But sitting down, talking to the girl, finding out the truth … it was eye-opening. Lindy saw her future and it sucked.