A Trace of Hope

by Blake Pierce

  “That hardly seems like enough to do the things he must have done,” Keri insisted.

  “But it’s not the amount,” Ray pointed out. “Once he took anything, he was on the hook. From the moment he took the first payoff, Weatherford could hold it over him, threaten to rat him out.”

  “But couldn’t that work both ways?”

  “I’m sure Grunt Work thought of that too. But clearly not or he’d have gotten out from under by now. I’m willing to bet the good Supervisor found a way to insulate himself and leave Garrett out in the cold.”

  “So Edgerton couldn’t find anything sketchy on Weatherford?” Keri asked, trying not to let her frustration overwhelm her. She had a strong urge to honk at every car in her immediate vicinity for no particular reason.

  “I didn’t say that,” Ray told her. “The guy may have insulated himself from Grunt Work. But that doesn’t mean he was able to hide everything. Once Edgerton realized what kind of slimy bastard he was up against, he really started digging in. And he found a few things.”

  “Like?”

  “All kinds of shell companies,” Ray said. “You have to get through a few layers to find out the real connections. But let’s just say Edgerton was incentivized. Weatherford has his hands in shady city construction deals and a liquor distribution business that gets surprisingly good rates from local watering holes. Not to mention a hidden bank account in the Cayman Islands. But I’m burying the lead.”

  “What’s the lead?” Keri asked.

  “He seems to have been tight with Jackson Cave. There are countless calls between them. Cave wasn’t his lawyer but worked with Weatherford’s firm all the time. And his personal financials have all kinds of sketchy payouts for things like ‘team outings’ and ‘civic beautification disbursements.’”

  “Sounds like a slush fund for drugs and girls.”

  “Agreed,” Ray said. “And I’m betting Cave supplied a lot of both. I think it’s pretty safe to assume this is who he was referencing as the higher-up before he died.”

  “I think so too,” Keri said. “So what are the next steps?”

  “We’re prepping a warrant for everything now—his home, phone records, financials. Once we have all our ducks in a row, we’ll go to Hillman. Edgerton’s deep-dived his records and he has no connection to Weatherford so I think it’s safe to fill him in. But I want to wait until we’re set. I assume he’ll authorize a warrant for Grunt Work’s arrest and approve moving on the Supervisor. We’ll probably wait until first thing in the morning to go to a judge.”

  “Sounds like you’ve had a busy afternoon, partner.”

  “All that and babysitting a movie star too,” Ray conceded.

  “Oh yeah. How did that go?” Keri asked as she inched past Pepperdine. She saw a strip center off to the left and debated pulling in for a bathroom break.

  “There wasn’t much to it. It was pretty clear he hadn’t gotten any secret ransom calls. I think he mostly wanted to commiserate. He kept talking about things they did when she was younger—lots of stories about camping and hiking and stuff. He said he’d been thinking about suggesting a hike to that Sandstone Peak she liked the next time she visited, as a way to reconnect and maybe heal some wounds. Now he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance. He hates how they left things. I really felt for him, Keri.”

  “Yeah, well. It’s going to get a lot worse for him if that body off Point Dume is her,” Keri said, immediately put off by the coldness in her own voice.

  “I guess,” Ray said, noticing it too.

  “I’m sorry. I’m frustrated by this traffic and I have to pee really bad. I’m going to pull over and find a spot. I’ll check in with you when I get closer to the city, okay?”

  After they hung up, she navigated her way through the strip center and parked in front of a bookstore she hoped had a bathroom. As she walked through the aisles to the back of the store she passed a section titled Malibu: Local Lore, Legends & Logistics.

  After she finished up, she walked back through the same section. She stopped in the middle of the aisle, thinking for a long time. She had that familiar itch in the back of her brain, the kind she couldn’t quite scratch. Then she stepped over to the shelf with guidebooks, noting that the “Legends” subtitle was a clever reference to both folklore and maps.

  She pulled out a book on hiking the Santa Monica Mountains and flipped to the page about Sandstone Peak. It listed the multiple trails leading to the top, including the grueling Mishe Mokwa Trail and the far less intense Sandstone Peak Trail. Both ultimately led to the 3,111-foot summit and the seemingly unimpressive reward of coming face to face there with the plaque of Herbert Allen, who had apparently donated a bunch of the land in the area to the Boy Scouts.

  Herbert Allen. A thought flashed through Keri’s head—something that the drunken camper Marla had told her Tara said: she was going to hook up with her old buddy, Herbie.

  Could she really have been planning to walk all the way from the ocean to the top of this mountain in just her underwear?

  It only took a second for Keri to decide that, yes, she could.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Keri tried not to let excitement overwhelm logic as she pulled out her phone and did a quick search of the distance from the Leo Carrillo Campground to Sandstone Peak. It was well over nine miles using marked roads. But she suspected that if that’s where Tara was headed, she wasn’t using roads.

  She tried to project herself into the girl’s mind from two nights ago. She’d been recently assaulted. She was barely clothed. From Marla’s description, she sounded disoriented and confused, possibly concussed or in shock—maybe both—after the attack by Taylor.

  That might explain her seemingly unhinged desire to find her friend Herbie, to return to a place that held positive memories for her, before everything started to fall apart. As crazy as it sounded, it also made sense.

  Keri looked at her watch. It was already after 6 p.m. and the sun was starting to dip in the sky. In a little over an hour it would be dark. She called Hillman, steeling herself to tell him what she needed.

  “How did you hear so fast?” he asked before she could speak.

  “Fill me in,” she said noncommittally, not wanting to reveal that she no idea what he was talking about.

  “The Coast Guard says the body off Point Dume isn’t Tara Jonas. It was some spring breaker who got caught in a rip current near Zuma Beach.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me because I know where Tara is,” Keri said.

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere in the Santa Monica Mountains. She’s trying to get to the top of Sandstone Peak.”

  “What?” Hillman asked, flabbergasted.

  Keri quickly explained her theory and her plan. She wanted a Search and Rescue team to help her comb the area from the campground up to the mountain, following both the Yerba Buena Road path and the more direct route straight through the wilderness.

  “That’s a massive area, Locke. There’s no way we can cover all of it, especially with darkness approaching.”

  “That’s why we have to do it fast, Lieutenant. Like I said, the last few nights have been pretty warm but it’s going to be really cold tonight, worse in the mountains. She won’t survive out there dressed like she is.”

  “We don’t have the manpower for a search like this, even if we called in County resources.”

  “Call in for helicopters then,” Keri demanded, trying to keep her frustration in check. “That way we’ll need fewer men.”

  “They won’t authorize that kind of expense.”

  “That’s fine, Lieutenant,” Keri said, channeling her fury into a calm tone she didn’t know she was capable of. “I’ll just give Roan Jonas a call. I’m sure when I tell him we can’t afford to pay for a helicopter search for his daughter, he’ll be fine picking up the cost. Maybe he can send out a tweet to his followers to form volunteer search parties. I think that’s the way to go. Let’s get hundreds of untrained folks traipsi
ng around in the dark mountains. I’m sure it will turn out great.”

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Hillman finally responded.

  “I’ll call the Chief,” he growled. “We’ll scramble a team. They should be onsite in less than an hour.”

  “Great,” Keri said enthusiastically. “I’m going to buy some gear at the camping store across the street and head straight for the peak in case she made it there. It would be great if you could ask a team to meet me there.”

  “Locke.”

  “Yes sir?”

  “I don’t know if threatening your boss on your second day back at work is the best career advancement move.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement, sir. Got to go now.”

  *

  Things moved fast from there. First she called both Ray and Mags to let them know she wouldn’t back any time soon. Mags reaffirmed that she’d spend the night at the apartment and said not to sweat it.

  Then Keri loaded up at the nearby camping store, getting the clerk’s recommendation on what she needed for a nighttime mountain hike and leaving with a trail map, a headlamp, a flashlight, a puffy jacket, and a small backpack. She filled that up with water, energy bars, a flare gun, and a personal locator beacon. She also threw in a thermal blanket, a pair of hiking pants, a sweater, and a second puffy jacket, all in case she found Tara.

  She was at the Sandstone Peak trailhead a half hour later. According to the map she bought, it was only a mile to the peak from where had parked, but the 1,100-foot elevation was fast and steep.

  She put on the headlamp, zipped up the jacket, threw the backpack over her shoulders, and started out just as the sun dipped beyond the Pacific Ocean. Almost immediately, she felt an increasing chill in the air. Looking at temperature on her phone, she saw it had already dipped into the mid-fifties. She could only imagine what it felt like at the top of that exposed, wind-swept mountain peak.

  The climb was brutal. Within minutes her thighs were burning as she trudged upward at what seemed like a permanent forty-five-degree angle. Despite the headlamp and flashlight, she tripped multiple times on loose rocks and unseen notches in the trail.

  Even though it had dipped to about fifty degrees, sweat dripped down her brow. She occasionally called out to Tara but gave up after a while, when she got no response and her throat became sore and hoarse.

  After about forty-five minutes, she came to a sign that pointed her toward the actual peak. She looked in that direction and saw a carved-rock stairwell that turned into more of a sheer gravel scramble after the first fifty feet or so. She took several big gulps of water, retied the laces of her woefully inadequate loafers, which had turned into blister-creation machines, and started up.

  She fell twice, once hitting her left knee so hard on a rock that she thought she might have cracked it. Branches just out of her line of sight ripped at her face as she pulled herself upward, using whatever semi-solid surface she could get a grip on.

  Eventually, the trees and brush gave way, giving a clear view of the summit, only a hundred rocky, jagged feet away. There was no sign of Tara. Keri stood still, listening for a noise—crying, moaning, anything that might suggest a person was up there, maybe hidden among the rocks.

  Keri briefly considered stopping there and turning around. But she decided to push to the top. She had come this far. And part of her knew there was a chance that Tara might yet be up here, just no longer alive. She steeled herself to find her body, maybe curled up in some corner, out of sight, where she’d hidden from the elements, hoping to find a place of safety.

  After another ungainly five minutes she made it. Keri was at the peak, staring at Herbert Allen’s plaque. He looked back at her with a severe, almost mournful expression that she knew she was giving more meaning than he intended.

  After taking a moment to catch her breath, she noticed a mail slot at the base of the plaque and opened it. Inside was a summit register people could sign to indicate they’d been here. She flipped through to the end, debating whether it would be appropriate to add her name to the list. That’s when she saw the most recent entry: Tara Justin.

  Keri dropped the register and looked around. She seemed to be alone. But Tara had been here, and recently.

  “Tara?” she called out.

  There was movement off to her right. She shined the flashlight in that direction and saw a figure behind a rock about twenty feet away on what appeared to be the very edge of the summit.

  “Stay away,” a weak voice said.

  Keri didn’t make any attempt to move in her direction, instead pointing the flashlight off to the side so it wouldn’t be directly in the girl’s eyes. She didn’t want to frighten or disorient her, especially when she looked to be so close to the edge.

  “Tara, my name’s Keri. I’m a police detective. I’ve been looking for you for a couple of days. People have been very worried about you. Are you okay?”

  “Don’t come close to me,” Tara insisted, a wild edge in her voice.

  “I’m not going to, Tara,” Keri said, realizing that Tara’s positioning on the edge of the mountaintop might not be accidental. “I’m just here to talk. Is it okay if we talk a little?”

  “There’s nothing left to say. There’s nothing left at all!”

  “Are you sure about that, Tara? Because I don’t think your dad would feel that way. I think he might have some stuff he wants to say to you.”

  “My dad? What does he have to do with it?”

  “How do you think I found you, Tara?” Keri asked. “It was your dad who told me how much you two used to love to hike these mountains, how this was your favorite peak to climb. He said he was hoping he’d get another chance.”

  “Not anymore he won’t,” Tara whispered hoarsely. “Not after this. Now he can be ashamed of me too.”

  “Oh, sweetie, he’s not ashamed of you,” Keri insisted, now fully aware that Tara wasn’t just on the physical edge of a cliff but the emotional one too. “He’s ashamed of himself. He told me what he did and how much it hurt you. He so desperately wants to make it right. And when he found out you were gone, all he cared about was getting you back.”

  “Does he know?” Tara asked, unable to ask the full question but not needing to.

  “He doesn’t know what happened to you yet. I only just found out a few hours ago. But if you think your father will be ashamed because of something that was done to you, you’re wrong. Whatever mistakes he’s made, he just wants to protect you, to keep you safe, to make you feel better.”

  “But he can’t make it better,” Tara said, her voice catching.

  “No,” Keri admitted. “He can’t. What’s been done to you can’t be undone. But it doesn’t have to define you, Tara. You can move on from it.”

  “How do you know?” Tara asked accusatorily.

  “Tara,” Keri said quietly, “look at me. Do you recognize me?”

  She shined the flashlight so that it lit up her own face.

  “A little. You look familiar. How do I know you?”

  “You might have seen me on the news. My daughter was abducted.”

  After a moment of silence, Keri could see the recognition dawn on Tara’s face.

  “You’re the detective who was looking for her daughter all those years. You rescued her a few months ago.”

  “That’s right. I did. But that’s just the news headline version of it, Tara. The truth is that, just like you, my daughter had terrible things done to her. But they were done over many years. She struggles with them every day. She’s been through more in fourteen years than anybody should have to deal with in ten lifetimes. But she gets up every morning and faces whatever the day throws at her. So you ask how I know if someone can move on from something like this. It’s because I see it every day, Tara. I see my daughter’s bravery each time she steps out the front door to face the world. And I believe you have that same bravery inside you.”

  “I’m not sure I do.”

&nbs
p; “I am sure,” Keri said firmly. “And your dad is sure. And your mom. And your little brother. And your friend Alice. You’re stronger than you think you are. You just have to take that first step. And I’m right here to help you take it. Step over to me. Let me help you. I’ve got a sweater and a warm jacket in my backpack. Let’s get you bundled up and off this mountain. What do you say, kiddo?”

  Tara looked at her for a long time and for the briefest of seconds, Keri thought she’d failed and the girl was going to just let go and tumble off the side of the cliff. But she didn’t. Instead, she gripped the boulder she was clinging to and pulled herself forward. She reached her hand out toward Keri.

  “I need help,” she said.

  “You’ve got it,” Keri said and started toward her.

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  By the time Keri got back to the apartment that night, she was so exhausted she could barely stand up. She peeked in Evelyn’s room and saw that she was fast asleep. Mags had commandeered Keri’s bed, assuming she wouldn’t be home that night, so she crashed on the couch.

  She looked at the clock. It was well after midnight but she didn’t expect to see Ray tonight. He was prepping the early morning arrest of Supervisor Weatherford in conjunction with Castillo and Edgerton and expected to be busy all night. He’d said to go home, rest, and check out the fireworks in the morning.

  She was more than happy to do it. After getting Tara down the mountain with the help of Search and Rescue, she’s had to warn the Jonas family about her delicate emotional state, process paperwork on Taylor Hunt, and deal with Lieutenant Hillman’s intermittent grousing at Keri’s tactics. The whole thing had wiped her out.

  When her alarm went off at six the next morning, she turned on the news. There was nothing yet about Supervisor Weatherford so she quietly checked on Evelyn, who was still sleeping.

  After that, she headed into the bathroom to shower off the accumulated grime and dirt from Sandstone Peak. She washed herself carefully, cleaning the cuts and scrapes without rubbing too hard. Then she allowed the warm water to massage her shoulders for a good ten minutes.