“Jesus. A couple months ago?”
“Yeah, it changes our timeline slightly, but it actually ends up making more sense. Especially since it adds to this idea that the suspect was building up to something, developing, creating a feeling of fear on an ever increasing level.”
“Who else? You said there were more?”
“Yeah, uh, the other guy was Johnny Canterino of Phoenix, Arizona. Found at his home, tied up to a chair. The M.E. said this guy had been doused in a solution of twelve percent chlorine. Essentially, it would have felt like he was drowning. It would have caused respiratory failure within minutes, and of course, the classic foaming at the mouth. This guy was beaten, too, which was one of the things that helped us connect it to the California cases.”
“What is it with this foaming at the mouth?”
“I really don’t know, but it’s literally every single case.”
“And so, how many is that, all together now?”
“That’s six.”
“Wow. So it really is serial now?”
“Yep. FBI are like, seconds away from taking it from us. They’re already ‘assisting’ to an obnoxiously intrusive degree.” He shrugged. “What can I do? As long as he’s caught. Anyway, speaking of catching the guy, I should get back to the office.”
“Okay, we grabbing a drink later?” I asked, standing with him as he moved to leave.
“Absolutely.” He surprised me as he leaned over and gave me a hug. “That’s for getting me outside. I’ll see you later.”
Jeez. This must really be getting to him.
Chapter Eleven
Jimmy’s was packed later that evening when we arrived around eight. Archie and I shouldered our way through the crowd and up to the bar to order, dodging elbows and full glasses on our way. I made eye contact with Cindy and she smiled and waved, gesturing with her hand for me to wait one minute for her to finish serving.
“Hey, you. Jimmy here tonight?” I asked once she’d made her way over.
“He is, he’s out back. I’ll let him know you’re here once the crowd dies down a little.”
“Thank you, doll. That and two beers, please.”
She winked and poured our drinks and we thanked her and headed over to our booth.
“What’s got everyone in here tonight?” Archie asked after we had sat down, licking his lips after having drained half of his glass.
I threw my thumb over my shoulder in the general direction of the TV up on the wall. “Dodgers game started an hour ago. We’re up by two.”
Archie involved himself in the baseball while I tuned in and out. I was distracted by his theory about Tanner, as well as an underlying feeling I couldn’t place. All I knew was it was related to Jesse. It had been bothering me that it looked like he was operating on Porcino’s turf now. How had that happened? Was he in with the Family or was this his own play?
A cheer went around the bar as the Dodgers pitcher threw a Steeeerike three, you’re outta here! I looked up to observe the crowd. Happy, carefree people bounced up and down, accidentally spilling beer and giggling as they celebrated with each other. My friend would never do that again. I made eye contact with Archie and he threw me a look of concern and I shook my head.
“Just gonna get some air,” I told him. I stood from my seat and bustled my way across the bar to the corridor that led to the bathrooms. At the end was an emergency exit door which let out into the alley at the back of the building. I knew it was always disarmed, so I pushed through and let it close behind me, then leaned back against it and took a deep breath.
The evening was fresh and there was a light breeze being channeled by the tall buildings on either side of me. It did nothing for me, though.
I was angry.
I wanted to beat the living daylights out of Carter and Tanner and Jesse. In that moment, I didn’t care which one of them did it. I just wanted to hurt them because they had all done something to hurt Pam and now she was dead.
I kicked a trash can instead and watched it fly and clatter down the alley as I took a few deep breaths. I let the breeze buffet around me for a second while I composed myself, then turned to head back inside.
A silhouette moved in my peripheral vision. Down the alley to my left. I turned quickly and just saw it move down behind the far side of a dumpster about twenty feet away. I moved silently, stopping once I arrived at the dumpster. I crouched down and listened. I could hear rustling, the kind that gave me the impression that the person on the other side was not trying to hide the fact that they were there.
Just in case, I tapped at my hip, where I always kept my knife, to confirm it was still there. It was. I pulled it out of the pouch and opened it. I cautiously moved around the edge of the dumpster until I was about a foot away from where I figured whoever I’d seen was hiding. I took a breath, then quickly side-stepped into the open.
“Freeze,” I said, knife pointed.
The old man jumped in his skin and brought a hand to his heart. “Holy… You scared me. I can move, I’ll go find someplace else, I don’t want no trouble, okay?” He paused, then tilted his head and looked harder at me. “You’re not a cop.”
“No, I’m not. And I don’t want your spot, either. Don’t worry,” I replied as I put my knife away. “Sorry to disturb you.”
I had begun to walk away when a thought occurred to me. I stopped and turned back on my heel. “Say, you been ’round here long?” I asked.
“Sure. Good few years. It’s a quiet spot, don’t get much trouble,” the old man replied. He looked a little worse for wear, but his face was friendly. His clothes were tattered and dirty, and his hair and beard were long and unkempt. I noticed that he had kind eyes.
“So you’ve seen the protection guys come and go a couple times, I bet,” I asked him as I moved a little closer, studying his face.
“Oh, sure. They’ve been back, crawling all over this neighborhood, hell, this whole town for a good few years now. You got beef with them, huh?”
“I’d like to have a word or two. You happen to know where I might find them?”
“From what I’ve heard, they operate out of some place downtown, but they usually come ’round this way every third Thursday of the month to pick up their money.”
I looked at my watch. “Isn’t that today?”
He shrugged. “I guess it’s been about that long, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Another thought occurred to me. “Wait, they’re not taking protection here, are they?” I asked, gesturing back at Jimmy’s bar.
“Oh yeah, they protect this place, too. Word on the street is that the big guy is leaving town any day, though. Getting a bit hot. Might be someone new soon enough.”
I nodded and tried to suppress the anger that was boiling up into my throat. Jimmy had lied to me. “Okay. Thank you, you’ve been really helpful.” I reached into my pocket and grabbed a couple of bills that I folded into the palm of my hand, then reached out to him for a shake. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“They call me Toothless.” He gave me a big grin which explained why.
I forced a grin back—he didn’t deserve my rage, it wasn’t about him—and we shook. I saw him look down at his hand once I’d let go. His eyes widened a little before he looked back at me and grinned even larger.
“It’s a pleasure. I’m Ana. I’ll see you around, pal.”
I left Toothless in the alley and headed back inside to find Archie. On my way back down the corridor to our booth, I caught sight of a familiar face standing at the bar. One of the boys I had taken down at Rico’s was talking to Cindy. How had I missed him before? He was black and blue and she looked pretty uncomfortable, so I stood in the hallway out of sight and watched him ask her some questions. She turned and disappeared around the back of the bar for a second, then came back with Jimmy. The voice in my head began reasoning with the scene unfolding in front of me. C’mon, don’t do it. Not like this.
I watched Jimmy talk with the guy a little more, th
en gesture behind him. The guy moved around the bar and Jimmy then led him behind and into his office. My heart sank. My anger rose.
I strode across the bar, shoving people out of my way left and right until I got to my and Archie’s booth. Archie met my eyes as I approached and I pointed at the entrance. “Outside.”
I pushed through the front door and into the night air again before taking a deep breath and leaning back against the building. I pulled an old pack of Reds out of one of the pockets of my jacket and searched for my lighter. Archie appeared next to me, pulled out a Zippo and lit the cigarette.
I took a long drag. “I need Jesse’s address. And his phone number.”
“You’re kidding.”
I snapped my eyes to his and stared him down. “Why would I be kidding, Archie? I need his goddamn address and number and I need you to give them to me now.”
He watched me for a second, and when he replied, his voice remained level. For some reason, it made me angrier. “We’ve talked about this, Ana, I can’t just give you a suspect’s personal details. Why do you want it, what’s happened?”
I wasn’t going to tell him Jimmy was taking protection from Jesse. Not yet anyway. He would only get in my way, and I didn’t want the law interfering with what I wanted to do. I definitely didn’t want Archie to get in the shit, either. “He sold drugs to Pam, he probably caused her miscarriage.”
“Bullshit. You already knew that, what is it that’s set you off now?”
“Archie, it’s not important what set me off!” I yelled, grabbing him by the shirt and shaking him. He grabbed my forearms to stabilize himself and stared at me. “This man is dangerous, this man killed my friend, this man is ruining people’s lives.” I watched him read my face. Read between the lines. My eyes begged him to understand. His expression softened.
“Promise me you’re not going to beat him up.”
I loosened my grip. “I promise I won’t beat him up.”
He sighed, released my arms and pulled his notepad out of his jacket. He scribbled the address down, and the phone number, tore out the page and handed it to me. I snatched the paper out of his fingers and turned on my heel. This had gone on long enough.
“Please be careful!” Archie hollered down the street after me.
* * *
I drove for about thirty minutes through the eternal lights of Los Angeles. It’d been a little surprising to read the address Archie had scrawled on the little piece of paper he gave me. It was on Georgina Avenue, in Santa Monica, which I knew was pretty upmarket, but to be honest, at the time I didn’t give it a lot of thought. Now that I was almost there, the mansions on either side of the street were becoming a lot harder to ignore. Fortunately, they only served to make my urge to blow Jesse’s brains out even stronger. By the time I’d arrived and parked up, I was about ready to dismember the guy.
The house was ridiculous. It was an enormous, Spanish style villa set behind eight foot walls and a vast iron gate. It was two stories high and surrounded by palms and a huge desert garden. I could see the turquoise glow of a swimming pool out back. It was becoming abundantly clear that Jesse, whatever way he was involved in whatever organization he was involved in, was a much bigger player than Porcino. He’d been getting away with it for a long time. This guy was ambitious, and smart enough to keep a low profile—aside from his house, at least.
I sat in my truck for twenty minutes, with the lights switched off, as I took in the house and its surroundings. I was about to get out and wander over for a closer look when the gates began to open and a convoy of black SUVs streamed down the drive towards it. I watched them emerge onto the avenue and wondered who the hell they were and where they were headed. I counted three, four, five cars. As the fifth one pulled out, I saw Jesse sat in the passenger seat. He was talking to his driver, waving his hand around like he wanted to hit somebody. His face had recovered a little from our last meeting. I grabbed a pen and made a note of the license plate on the back of my hand. A sixth car pulled out behind Jesse’s and then the gates closed.
I reached back behind me and grabbed a large, metal lockbox from my back seat. I pulled the chain around my neck out from under my shirt and used the key on the end to unlock the box. I took out the laptop that was sitting on top of some old files and typed the plate number into some software I had ‘borrowed’ from a previous employer. Five minutes later, I was tracking Jesse’s GPS. Thank you, Uncle Sam. He was headed south on the I-5. The bastard was headed for Mexico.
I gave them an hour’s head start and stopped by Archie’s to grab my things. Most of what I own lives in my truck, but I don’t like leaving things behind. When I took off after them, it was gone ten. I kept my computer open on the passenger seat next to me to serve as a satnav as I drove.
I arrived at the Mexican border at around half past one in the morning. Their dot was still moving south. Forty-five minutes later, it disappeared.
I pulled the car over to the side of the road and got out. I could feel the rage building up inside me again and I wanted to scream and hit something. Instead, I leaned back inside the cab and grabbed my computer off the passenger seat. It had to be something to do with the signal. I looked up from the screen and around at my surroundings. It was dark, but I could see the silhouettes of mountains surrounding me across the desert in every direction. They had to be blocking the signal. I hadn’t noticed any turn offs or other roads, so they must have stayed on the same road that I was on. I got back in the car.
I’d just keep driving until I saw the next sign.
But the road went on for miles, and the scenery stayed the same as it wound around the base of mountain after mountain. Another hour passed until I saw the sign for San Felipe. That was it. It had to be. I felt it in my bones.
I arrived just before half past three and found a little twenty-four hour motel near the beach. Just under an hour’s walk from the entrance to the town, but a ten minute drive. I parked my truck in a small, empty, semi-fenced off lot across the road that didn’t seem like it got much attention, then went back across the street to grab a few hours shut eye.
I woke around half past ten the next morning. My body was aching a little from the drive, so I jumped in the shower and let the steaming water beat against the muscles. After toweling off and getting dressed, I decided to go for a run, both to stretch out my body and to get a lay of the land.
The motel was situated across the road from the beach, so I decided to jog north along the sand. There was a promenade next to the road on my left and I followed it for five minutes or so, until I came to a stop in front of a kind of breakwater, rising out of the sand. There was a large, abandoned building that looked like a cross between a mental institute and a ship, along with a beautiful white lighthouse and a shrine, all situated on top. A rusty old bridge connected it to the street. I figured I would see what was up with the abandoned building.
I jogged over to where the staircase started and looked up. The structure looked pretty rickety, but behind me there was a gateway and a couple steps leading to it from the street, so I assumed it at least used to get some use. I squinted. A sign hanging above the stairs said:
BOOM BOOM OPEN
BAR
RESTAURANT
DISCOTEQUE
Sounded legit. Especially when a quick glance to my left revealed graffiti on the side of the building that also read ‘B0om bo0M’. I started to ascend the stairs and they rattled and shook underneath me. I took my time reaching the top and took in the view. Most of the buildings in this town weren’t over two or three stories. It was a nice change from downtown L.A. There were splashes of color everywhere and you could see for miles. Below me, I noticed an old, previously flooded marina.
I made my way across the walkway, trying to enjoy the elevated vistas of the Gulf and the surrounding mountains. I wondered if I could see where Jesse was hiding out from up here. I finally reached the other side, and land. There appeared to be several points where I could gain access to t
he building, but there was one directly in front that looked as though it got the most use. Someone had obviously attempted to block it off with a large piece of wood, but it hadn’t exactly done the trick. It now sat dragged to one side, half covering the doorway. A quick glance showed me most of the other entrance points were in a similar condition. Some windows, too.
I ducked in under the plank of wood and gave my eyes a second to adjust. The place was vast and covered in cobwebs. The ceilings stretched up ten, twenty feet and I could hear my footsteps echoing off the walls. There were little nooks everywhere, and large columns held up several second floor balconies. I moved further inside. The place had definitely been abandoned, and quite a long time ago judging by the state of it. But it was also definitely being used by somebody. I could see evidence of several old fire pits, food wrappers, even ripped up clothing dotted across the floor. I also spotted some cardboard boxes piled up, one on top of the other, like a makeshift bed.
I rounded a corner and was greeted with the sight of a solitary wooden chair in a kind of alcove. It was backlit by the sunlight shining in through a small window behind it, giving it a kind of eerie glow. It appeared to have the torn up remains of rope and what looked like old duct tape around the arms. On the floor, there appeared to be bleach stains. Everywhere. In fact, I could smell the bleach. A small chill ran down my back. Suddenly, all the items littered on the floor were no longer just trash, they were potential weapons. I looked around, trying to sharpen my hearing. I could have heard a pin drop. I was certain I was alone.
I continued to look around for another five or ten minutes, but I didn’t find anything more damning or interesting than the chair. My stomach rumbled and I realized I was hungry. It was time to call it and get the hell out of this place.
Return of the Nomad Page 10