by Webb Hubbell
Her wrists and ankles had been rubbed raw by the rope. Bruises covered her arms, legs, and body. Only her face remained untouched. Debbie had told me they wouldn’t touch her face.
The medics arrived, as well as at least a dozen squad cars and a fire truck. Neighbors poured out of their homes. Clovis insisted that Paul should ride with her to the hospital, partly to protect Micki, and partly to be there for Eric.
I heard Clovis. “Jack, Sam needs you.”
21
I SPOTTED SAM huddling with several uniformed officers. He waved me over, and the officers quickly dispersed.
“You gonna cuff me?” I tried, but couldn’t manage a smile.
“No. I should chew your ass out, but I was right behind you, so I guess we’re both guilty. Besides, what judge wouldn’t let you off? You saved her life. How’d you figure out where she was?”
“Sam, I’m exhausted. I’m going to the hospital. If Micki’s okay, I need to crash for a while. Can I tell you tonight over steak and a cold beer? ”
“I’ll take you up on the beer, but I can’t let you see or talk to Micki.”
“Why the hell not?” I shouted. Several police officers turned in our direction, but relaxed when Sam put his arm around my shoulder.
“Walk with me to your car and keep a lid on that temper of yours. In the first place, Micki’s in no shape to talk to anybody. More to the point, when she is able to talk, law enforcement needs to be there first. I can’t risk some hotshot lawyer saying you put words in her mouth before the police got her statement. I have to keep you two apart. This may be our best shot at Novak; I can’t afford to fuck it up.”
“I have no intention of fucking anything up, but what about Micki? This is one human being caring for another. If it were me in the hospital, you’d be there. Hell, if I remember right, you were–both times.”
“She knows you care. Any idiot knows that. I’ll make sure she knows why you’re not there. She’s been after Novak for years, for God’s sake—she knows what’s at stake. You’ll see her soon enough, but stay away for now. I’m going to have a hard enough time keeping the lover boy away.”
“I’ll behave, but you’ve got to promise to hurry the hell up. I don’t want her alone. Clovis will work with you to make sure she’s protected, okay?”
“Okay.” He sighed, his relief obvious.
We had reached Clovis’s Tahoe. “Eight o’clock at The Faded Rose. I’ll tell you how I figured it out. It wasn’t Novak.”
“Wha . . . ?” Sam’s mouth was open.
“Thought that would pique your curiosity. Novak didn’t do it. I’ll explain tonight.”
I hopped into the car.
Clovis asked, “I heard you tell Sam that Novak’s not responsible. How do you know that?”
“I’ll tell you both at dinner tonight. Let’s go check on Maggie and Debbie. Sam won’t let me see Micki.”
The adrenaline was still flowing as we drove to Micki’s office.
“Here’s what I need right now: first, send Moira to Memphis to check on Liz. Second, call Marshal Maroney and schedule a meeting with him tomorrow. I want him to know how much danger Doug is in. Has the press descended on Micki’s office yet?”
“I took a minute to call Mongo—he said a satellite truck just pulled up. He knows not to open the door or talk to anyone. Paul’s at the hospital. The police have guards everywhere. He’s already talked to Eric, who’s about as happy as you are about Sam’s orders to stay away. He wanted to supervise her care, but the hospital administrator stepped in at Sam’s request.” Clovis seemed almost out of breath.
“For the moment the police will watch Micki, but I don’t trust them completely. I want Paul and his men at the hospital full-time.”
THE SKINNY GUY had been sitting quietly in his car just down Winkler as Clovis pulled away. He’d watched the whole thing. They’d had just enough time to get out. The bastard Patterson was supposed to be out of town. Still, Lawrence was out of commission and wouldn’t be able to identify a soul. Patterson’s finding her had spoiled a little special fun his guys were going to have with the long-legged beauty. “Damn,” he muttered to himself. At least, Patterson would pay for being so fucking smart—he was a dead man.
22
THE PRESS HAD set up a bank of microphones on the sidewalk leading up to Micki’s front porch. A satellite truck was parked in the driveway so we couldn’t drive to the back and park. I noticed Mongo had turned the lights out except for the porch light and a few in the back of the house. Smart guy.
“It’s okay, Clovis. This one should be easy. Just be ready to clear a path.” We got out of the car, and I shoved my way through the reporters.
“Prosecuting Attorney Sam Pagano has ordered me not to talk about what happened this afternoon because of his ongoing investigation. Sorry.” I turned around, walked up Micki’s porch steps, and through the front door, Clovis right behind me. The press was caught flat-footed. I don’t get that lucky very often.
Maggie jumped up from Micki’s desk and threw her arms around me with a sigh of relief.
“Are you all right? How’s Micki?”
“I’m all right. Micki’s another story. She was unconscious when the medics took over, and Sam won’t let me near her. He’s afraid I’ll compromise his case, but I’m going to change his mind tonight. We’ve got a lot to do over the next few days. I thought Doug’s case would go on for months, but we need to speed things up. Time is running out unless we change this game’s momentum. Micki’s alive, thank God, but . . .”
I was about to crash, but I had to do one more thing.
“Mongo, how’s Debbie?” He was standing near the door to the bedroom.
“She’s been in and out, but she’s awake. It helps that you found Micki.”
Debbie looked a lot better than when I’d left her. She was sitting up in bed watching The Cooking Channel, face cleaned up and hair combed: the resilience of youth.
“May I come in?”
“Yeah, sure. Paul told me you found Micki. I can’t tell you how relieved I am.” I was ready to be impressed by her newfound gravity, when she added, “In fact, this bed is giving me ideas. I’m ready for . . .” I frowned and turned to leave, but she’d seen my face flush.
“You’re blushing!” She squealed and smiled like a coquette. “I’m teasing. I used to be a prostitute, remember? I talk about sex like you do about the law.” I wondered how much it cost Debbie to keep up her brazen front.
My mind turned to my own daughter, Beth. She and Debbie were about the same age. I felt immensely grateful that Beth had lived a secure, almost pampered life, and yet oddly embarrassed that she would be totally unable to relate to the atrocities Debbie had experienced. I found myself wondering whether Beth could relate to Debbie at all.
“Debbie, look at me. You weren’t a prostitute. I don’t want to hear you say that ever again. You were a victim of revolting men who cheated and abused you. I came in to thank you. Micki is safe because of you. Thank you.”
She flushed a little, and said “Well, I–I didn’t . . . I mean, I really appreciate that. But what happens next? What are we going to do?”
“Until we get everything sorted out, Mongo and one of Clovis’s men are going to stay here with you. Make a list of what you need—I’ll send someone to your place. No texting or calls to friends telling them what happened or where you are. Please don’t argue. It won’t be forever. I don’t want to scare you, but I’m still worried about your safety. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. We have lots of work to do, and I need your help. I need to know I can count on you, okay?”
“When can I see Micki?”
“Sam Pagano won’t let any of us see her for now. Besides, she’s in no condition to see any of us. But as soon as Sam gives the okay, you’ll be first on the list.”
She squared her shoulders. “I need to know, was Novak behind this?”
“I don’t know, but, honestly, I don’t think so. From what you told me, I think so
meone has tried to set him up. Maybe we’ve landed in the middle of some sort of gangster turf war, but I don’t think so. I have a hunch that Novak had nothing to do with Micki’s kidnapping. Anyway, I want you to sit tight, mind Mongo and Clovis, and help me get to the bottom of all this.”
23
MAGGIE AND I climbed into the back of the Tahoe. Clovis was already in the driver’s seat. Moira joined us, riding shotgun. She spoke up as soon as the doors closed.
“I’ve already asked for Liz’s security to be upgraded. My flight to Memphis leaves in a couple of hours and I’ll be back in Little Rock tomorrow afternoon. How did you know where to find Micki?”
“Clovis will fill you in on the way to the airport. Hurry back, we’ve got a lot to do.” Maggie gave me a quizzical look, surprised at my abruptness.
Clovis dropped us off at the hotel’s door and left with Moira. I tried to call Beth. I knew she’d be worried about Micki, and even more upset if she heard it on the news or saw it online. When she didn’t answer, I thought about texting, but somehow it didn’t feel right. She’d have to wait.
Every part of me wanted to be at Micki’s side, but she had Eric. She’d expect me to find out who was behind all this and, in her words, “neuter the bastard.”
By the time Maggie and I had emptied our suitcases and cleaned up, it was time to go to dinner. The Faded Rose, housed in a nondescript building near the river, is famous for Rose’s Creole soaked salads and mouth-watering steaks cooked in butter in cast iron skillets. You’d never find it if you weren’t a local. Between rowdy families and armchair fans watching ESPN the place was already crowded–it was a good thing Clovis had called ahead.
We followed the waiter to a slightly quieter spot in a back corner. Maggie ordered a single malt scotch. I was tempted, but good whiskey would be wasted on me. Opening that closet door to an almost-dead Micki was going to haunt me for a long time. I settled for whatever Cabernet the waiter recommended.
“Thanks for getting me on the plane this morning, Maggie. I’m not sure Micki would be alive if we hadn’t come.”
She smiled. “You were in shock, you just needed a shove. Thank God you found her in time.”
“Thank God is right. But I’m still more than worried for her safety. I don’t think Novak had anything to do with Micki’s kidnapping and torture. I’ll explain my reasoning to Sam at dinner, no sense in repeating myself. Given that I think he didn’t do it, I see two other possibilities. Either it relates to Dr. Stewart’s arrest—somebody wants Micki out of that game—or it relates to her business, a former client or a case that went bad.”
“That’s more likely, don’t you think?”
“Probably, so tomorrow morning I want you and Debbie to go over all of Micki’s current files, see if you can find any leads. I know that’s hard and boring work, but I’ve got to turn my attention to Doug. Even acres of marijuana don’t justify the way the government is treating him.”
“If it does concern Doug, what makes you think you won’t be their next target?”
“Maggie, I’m not a threat to a flea, and what good does it to do to worry about it? We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
Ignoring her “who are you kidding” look, I said, “I’m more worried that Dub will try to pull some trick while Micki’s in the hospital.”
Clovis and Sam walked in together, turning a few heads as they walked to our table. Word had spread fast. Sam knew Maggie and greeted her as the friends they were.
“Plying me with liquor and food isn’t going to get you out of telling me how you found Micki. But since you’re buying, I’ll tell you what I know first. We’ve put pressure on every area of Novak’s business and come up empty. Novak has even agreed to let me interview him.”
Clovis jumped in. “Well, why not? He’s in the clear. He gives the order, but makes sure there’s no way to link him to the kidnapping.”
“You don’t have to convince me. Novak’s known for exacting revenge. He’s made it clear that he blames Micki for losing Debbie, and he’s sworn to get even. He may cry innocent, but I don’t trust him further than I can throw him, which isn’t very far.” Sam responded.
“Suppose he’s telling the truth–what then?” I interjected.
“All right, wise-ass, what makes you think Novak’s not our man?”
“I’m probably wrong, but hear me out. Every piece of evidence points to Novak: the kidnapping, the use of his house, the drugs, and the branding—but it doesn’t make sense. If Novak were behind it, surely he wouldn’t be so sloppy. Why would he leave her to be found at his old training center? Why let her be found at all?
“Besides, if it were an act of revenge, he would never have left her to die. Debbie says Novak believes in using women, not killing them. She said he’d treat Micki the same as all his girls, getting her addicted until she was willing to do anything for a score. He’s done it before. Sam, you have to admit, Micki would’ve been worth a lot of money to a man like Novak.”
Maggie was rightfully horrified at my words. “That’s terrible, Jack. How can you talk about Micki that way? She would never have agreed to be one of Novak’s prostitutes.”
Sam answered for me. “Maggie, it’s not a matter of choice. The addiction takes over and controls everything. Thank God it didn’t happen, but what Jack describes is exactly how Novak works. He gets very young girls addicted to the point they’ll do anything to feed their habit. That’s his business.”
She was still glaring at me.
“Maggie, you know how special Micki is to me; you also know how much she means to Sam. Micki’s not some piece of meat. I’m simply trying to explain the difference between what happened to Micki, as horrible as it was, and how Novak would’ve behaved. It’s how I figured out where she was. It’s just the facts.”
Maggie understood my reasoning, but was still bothered by the discussion.
“Let’s hear how you figured out where she was so I can mark you off my suspect list.” Sam winked.
“You and Clovis were concentrating on where Novak might have taken her, with zero results. So I wondered–what would someone do if they wanted to frame Novak? It occurred to me they might take her to a location that was easily identified with Novak, but not currently in use—a place you wouldn’t think of at first, but would get to at some point. It was a hunch and, fortunately, it turned out to be right.”
Maggie reached under the table and squeezed my hand.
“Well, thanks to your hunch, she’s alive.” Sam smiled. “We’ve put her boyfriend through the wringer—he’s not involved. The bad news is we didn’t find a single fingerprint in that room except Micki’s, not one. Not one hard piece of evidence to link the crime to Novak, and no real reason to suspect anyone else.”
“Wait—you have a huge clue,” I almost shouted.
Sam shook his head. “Okay, Sherlock. What did I miss?”
“The brand. That’s not Novak’s brand on her shoulder. Debbie’s brand is different. It has two letters together: an ‘AN.’ The brand on Micki is a single ‘N’ with a different font, if you can consider brands to have fonts. Each of Novak’s girls has the same brand on the back of her neck, not on her collarbone. Debbie confirmed that after I found Micki.”
A low whistle escaped Sam’s lips. “Nice work. Excuse me while I pass your reasoning on to my crack detective team. Order me a rib eye—bone in, rare. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I turned to Maggie. “I’m sorry. I had to be direct with Sam. His people are convinced Novak is guilty because it’s easy. It’s hard to get law enforcement to think outside the box unless you hit them up the side of the head, even Sam.”
“I understand, but what happened to Micki is every woman’s nightmare. I don’t even want to ask if the bastards raped her.” I hadn’t chosen to ask either.
“Clovis, can you see if you can find a local source for branding irons? It’s probably a wild goose chase, but it will take the police decades to follow up. If someone is trying to fram
e Novak, the iron itself will find its way onto one of Novak’s properties soon enough.”
Clovis replied. “Will do. Any other zingers?”
“Well, yeah, a couple. But I’m going to need your help to convince Sam.”
24
SAM RETURNED, OUR steaks arrived, and it was time to get down to business; although the perfectly cooked rib eyes, smothered potatoes, and Creole green beans were a distraction. Even Maggie gave in, happy to forget her healthy habits for the evening.
“I know you don’t know much about Dub’s task force, but I think it’s time you did,” I began between mouthfuls.
“Why in the world would I want to get within a country mile of Dub or his so-called task force?” he responded.
“What if I told you they were involved in Micki’s kidnapping?”
His fork made a loud clatter when it hit his plate—more than one head turned. Maggie and Clovis managed to keep control of their silverware, but were just as surprised.
“What have you been smoking? Why in the world do you think Dub has anything to do with Micki’s abduction? Sure, she hates his guts, and I’m sure the feeling is mutual, as many times as she’s cleaned his plow. But not even Dub would actually kidnap someone, much less leave them for dead.”
I needed to be careful not to exaggerate or oversell.
“Look—as far I as I can see there are four possible abductors. First, there’s the obvious, Novak. Second, there’s some enemy of Novak who’s trying to frame him. Novak’s bound to have enemies, lots of them. Third, it could be one of Micki’s clients. We’re going to be all over that tomorrow. Finally, there’s Dub, his task force, and whoever benefits from the Stewart case.