Jump The Line (Toein' The Line Book 1)

by McFarland, Mary

  I’d hoped being unloaded by DeeDee would put me back with my partner, Wes, but I know Meyers isn’t going to do that. He’ll keep his word if Wes doesn’t comply, and being chained to a desk would kill Wes’ spirit. Being put off the force would destroy his family, a fact I’m sure the Captain is aware of. The same way he worked to nail me, his focus on Wes makes me wonder if he’s not colluding with Mayor Laws to get rid of me and Wes. Yet he did back SAC Smith down when I got his offer to become a suit for the FBI.

  I shake my head—office politics.

  “I’ve got plenty to keep me busy, Wes,”I say, encouraging my ex-partner to cool down.

  “You,”Captain Meyers says, turning to me,“will be getting your ass on down to the morgue where your daddy—”

  He catches his slip before it’s out of his mouth, but Captain Meyers gives me a clipped half smile to cover his embarrassment. “Go look at the Jane Doe we hauled in from the alley last night. See if you and Doc Smalley can dig up any forensic evidence.”

  He turns to SAC Smith, not for confirmation but as a challenge—I’m in charge here, not the FBI—but he continues speaking to me. “See how many teeth she’s missing, Detective Hawks. Maybe we can link the evidence to the crime, as we’ve all agreed to do.”

  Saying nothing, I stand and leave the conference room. I’m not doing what Captain Meyers just ordered. I don’t need to check: I know how many teeth Jane Doe’s missing. Two, same as the rest of Megalo’s vics.

  As I’m heading out the door of the annex, SAC Smith stops me. “You’re not going to the morgue, are you?”

  “Perceptive,”I say, thinking about Captain Meyer’s futile attempt at revenge assignment, just one of his little ways of punishing me for my fling with Darlene.

  “It’s what I do,”SAC Smith says. “Profiling. You know?”

  I laugh. “You read me pretty well, sir.”

  “You’re going to Goshen, aren’t you?”

  “Stokley Farrel’s a planner. So is Megalo Don,”I say, by way of answering. “He’s organized, sir. I’m sure you know what that means. Whatever happened in Goshen when Stoke lived there, there was a reason. I think finding it out will help me connect him to our killer.” I don’t add that Goshen back then was even smaller than it is today, so Stoke’s and Alaina’s paths had to have crossed. I want to make certain that poses no present danger to Alaina. “I’m going to go see what I can learn.”

  “Good work, Detective. Like I said, you ever want to wear a suit, let me know.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,”I say.

  He gives me his cell phone number. “Let’s piss off Captain Meyers and coordinate our efforts. It’ll irritate him more that way.” He smiles. “While you head to Goshen, I’ll go revisit the scene in the alley, and then interview Omar Jain.”

  If I had time, I’d do that, too, but I set my priorities while the rest of the team was arguing their heads off back in the conference room. Speak to me, I often say, returning to the crime scene. But I know that alley behind Omar’s is a secondary crime scene. It will remain mute without a human connection to link it to. I’m going straight to Goshen to see what I can dig up on Stoke Farrel and his mother.

  If I had the time, I’d also like to discuss the Feebs’ other vics from Indiana and Ohio with SAC Smith. But if the signatures are all the same, as he’s indicated, then I’d be wasting precious time, same as I would if I listened to Captain Meyers and headed to the morgue to see Jane Doe. She’ll be there when I return from Goshen. Right now, I’ve got to have motive. Got to.

  “Do me a favor and see if you can track down Alaina Colby,”I say, giving the SAC her cell number and Professor Levin’s. “Call her professor first. I doubt she’s in class, but it won’t hurt to check. He might know another place where she stays.”

  “Sure,”he says, hearing the worry in my voice. “Any ideas where else she might be?”

  “No, but wherever she is, she’s looking for her brother.”

  “Or trying to get to Megalo Don before we do,”SAC Smith says,“so she can flush him out and save her brother.”

  The SAC is one damn perceptive man. His remark sends cold chills up my spine. “Do me a favor, sir, will you? Don’t just call Alaina. Go find her.”

  I nod my thanks and then give him Levin’s campus address. Like I said, the SAC’s perceptive. “She’s more than Megalo’s next victim to you, isn’t she?”he asks.

  “Much more,”I admit. “Can you also run by Doctor Verbote’s? I doubt she’ll show up, but she works there. She might check in.”

  “I’ll do what I can, Detective Hawks. Call me if you learn anything. I’ll do likewise.”

  Syncing mine and SAC Smith’s watches, and making sure he’s got my cell number, I go find my Buick and set my GPS for Goshen.

  Chapter 45

  Before I finish my check-in at the Goshen flea bag, Wes calls.

  “Buddy, how’d you put up with her?”

  “Who?”

  “Your rook, DeeDee Laws. She dumped me, Hawks. Didn’t say a word. Just disappeared. Did she do that shit with you?”

  Thumbing through the anemic phone book on the bed stand, thinking about Wes’ problem, I locate one B. Colby. “No,”I say. “I’m not getting in the middle of your tiff with DeeDee. You and I both know the reason she’s gone MIA.”

  She wants the Megalo Don collar, and thinks she’s better off going after him on her own, without Wes. I’ve seen rookies like this before: gung ho, to their detriment.

  “I came out of the meeting. I couldn’t fucking find her. Been looking all over for her. You got any idea where she might be? Captain’s all over my ass.”

  Shaking my head, I try to imagine where DeeDee could’ve gone. “Sorry, Tiger, but she was supposed to go with you to interview Squeal—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, but trust me, she’s notsweating him. I called Cinci PD and checked. She hasn’t been there. They cut him loose already. Nothing to hold him on.”

  Shit. For a heartbeat, I second guess myself. Should I have fought to keep DeeDee from shooting herself in the foot in the meeting? What if I’m wrong, coming to Goshen instead of checking out Jane Doe’s mouth at the morgue? There’s always the possibility Squeal knows more than he’s telling NPD. He’s a friend of Robin Colby’s. That connection is starting to unnerve me. It’s possible Robin put the Jane Doe’s shoulder in Alaina’s freezer, possible Squeal’s his accomplice, and trying to save his ass by ratting out Robin, an unwitting partner.

  Is it possible I’m wrong?

  Nah, Squeal can’t be Megalo Don, either. I shake my head. Wondering where DeeDee is, I offer Wes my best advice. “Sorry, Tiger, but I’ve no idea. She’s damn well not with me.”

  “Probably got her nose shoved up the captain’s ass,”Wes growls.

  I’m tempted to agree, but I can’t cut DeeDee loose, not just yet. She’s got potential. “No, she’s not with him,”I say, certain she’s heading straight to Stoke Farrel’s off-campus apartment, a fact I share with Wes. “She wants the collar so bad she can taste it.”

  “Like she’s got a snowball’s chance,”Wes says. “Bitch.”

  “Be patient, Tig. She’s a rookie, but she’s also NPD. She deserves the chance to earn our respect. We’ve all made our mistakes,”I add. Thinking how true this is in my case, I boot up my laptop and use Google Earth to locate B. Colby’s address from the phone book.

  “You got spare time while you look for your partner?”I ask Wes, locating the Colby manse on Google maps.

  “I thought about going home and doing Delilah—”

  “Tig, I need you to do me another favor,”I interrupt. Some of his lunch hour delights with Delilah are more information than I need at the moment.

  “They’re adding up, Hawks. At some point, you better be willing to repay. . . .”

  “Sure, Tig. Brews at any watering hole you want. You pick.”

  I tell him what I need, and don’t even bother denying it when Wes says,“Damn, bro, you got it bad
for Alaina Colby, don’t you?”

  “Just get to Stoke Farrel’s. I sent SAC Smith over, but I need you to go back him up. While you’re visiting Stoke, see if Alaina’s there.”

  “What if she is? What do I do with her if I find her?”

  Good question.

  “I need her to call me,”I say. I need to hear her voice and know she’s okay, yet I’ve no idea how to answer, short of telling Wes to abduct her. I’m the last person Alaina will listen to at this point. I search my brain. What can I do to get her to call me?

  “Here’s what you do, Tig,”I finally say. “Tell her I can’t pick her up tonight after work because—”

  I stop. Hellfire, what am I thinking? She won’t go to work. I don’t know her yet, but I know her well enough to know she’s out looking for her brother or Angie Miller’s killer. For a second, I feel sorry for Megalo if she catches him.

  “Rookie Laws was right. You’re involved with her,”Wes says.

  “Alaina wouldn’t call it that, exactly”—or I don’t think she would—“but let’s just say I don’t want anything happening to her, Tiger, alright? Can we leave it there? Until I can unload on your shoulders over a couple of brews?”

  Listening as he sorts through what I’m telling him about Megalo having Alaina in his sights, I can almost see Wes chewing his toothpick, wading through facts.

  “I’ve got it,”I say. “Tell her I’m in Goshen, at her mother’s place looking for her brother, Robin. That’ll piss her off so badly she’ll call me.”

  Wes laughs. “Get back to work you love sick dog.”

  I write down Berta Colby’s address and phone number, stashing my laptop on the little round wooden table by the bed. Then I call the motel operator. “Hey, buddy, I don’t want to be disturbed or have my room cleaned.”

  “Yeah, whatever,”he says. “Customer’s always right.”

  “You got that straight? This room is my bunker, ground zero, and I’m working a homicide, so hear me when I say I don’t want anything in here disturbed.”

  His tone gets respectful fast. “Yes, sir.”

  I intend to hunker down and find out everything I can about Stoke Farrel’s childhood stint in Goshen. If I’m right, I’m going to nail Megalo’s ass.

  But what if I’m wrong?

  Telling myself not to go there again, to stop second guessing myself, I head out.

  Ten minutes later, I turn onto a side road off the main highway, drive the mile until I find the railroad tracks, and then take the road that leads to the subdivision where Berta Colby lives. The area’s mostly rural. I’m still inside the Goshen city limits, but cornfields on either side of the road whiz by, the gray monotony of last year’s crops broken by tracts of modular housing.

  The yards are small lots, but they’re lined with mature trees. It’s not suburbia, but I’m guessing the setting provides healthy outdoor living for kids growing up here. I can see Alaina as a girl, playing ball, a tom boy.

  Leaving this section and driving, I start seeing trailers with cars up on blocks and pit bulls tied in the yards, muddied from April thaws. The farther I drive, the grimmer the neighborhood gets, giving me a clearer picture of Alaina’s childhood. It wasn’t idyllic, but whatever about this grim bare place shaped her, made her who she is today, I’m good with that. I’ve watched my mother work with inner city youth, the ones who’ll eventually get to perform in the refurbished Hawks’ Opera House, so I understand. Alaina’s had it rough growing up. Her mother’s and her brother’s rap sheets point to a home environment that would’ve traumatized most young girls, much less one as sensitive and gifted as Alaina.

  I pull into the driveway, avoiding potholes, and get out and look around.

  Someone’s home. I see hands pulling aside the curtain at the trailer window, a face peering out and then quickly disappearing.

  Stepping carefully past the big pit bull lunging against the bounds of a tractor chain, I head for the trailer’s front steps. If that dog gets loose, I’ll have no choice but to shoot him. That’ll rack me up another black mark with the Colbys.

  * * *

  Alaina always says,“Stoke, your apartment’s the Ritz.”

  What a joke. I’d laugh, but I’m busy watching the leggy blonde babe play keystone cop. I laugh at my own jokes. Why not? I’m good at them. They say mockery is the highest form of flattery.

  Although I don’t feel much like flattering the bitch scouring my apartment.

  I put my eye to the peephole and zoom in for a better view, for yet another good laugh. What’s she thinking?

  Shhh. Don’t want the mean ol’ perp to know I’m here.

  I’m close enough I can reach out and touch her, stupid thing, and she doesn’t even know. In the silence, in the dark, behind a soundproof door she doesn’t want to open, I watch her put her hands on the wall. I put mine in the same spot on my side and laugh. Then I gaze at her image on the cheap surveillance camera I installed.

  Tall, big-boned, big tits, she’s nothing like Alaina.

  I close my eyes, making Alaina materialize in my mind. Supple body. Dancer’s body. Not one ounce of fat. No oversized mammary glands like—I stare at the camera, watching the Holstein navigating her way through my living room. Why’s she look so surprised? What does she think? This isn’t a hay field: it’s my home. To her, it’s the last place she’ll see daylight.

  I close my eyes again and wait for the inevitable.

  Alaina. I can taste her, little white trash slut. Why’d she throw herself at the detective, when she could’ve had me? I’d like to cut her in half and eat her, like a heady buffet of baby salad greens, despite the fact she’s fucked him. Fucking him.

  I don’t mind, not so much. She’s not mine. I promised Daddy I’d save her for him.

  Holstein pulls up to the door of my secret room. “Showtime,”I say, wishing she could hear. I get a fish-eye view of her swollen pink lips, fluttering eyelashes. She’s working through the puzzle.

  What’s this? A peep hole in the wall for pretty me to look through?

  Playing a little game of ESP, I urge her mentally to open the door. So I can eat you!

  “See what I’ve got for you, doll,”I say, fingering the barrel of the big fat Glock I lifted from her when I bumped into her at Arnee’s.

  Hullo. How’re you going to explain being shot with your own gun?

  Ha, ha. That’s rich. I suppress a giggle. I lifted it right off her hip and she didn’t know, until she’d gone outside with Detective Hawks. But she hid her screw-up from him.

  Releasing the Glock’s safety, I give Dolly the Cow a few more seconds to work up her nerve and open the door. I can barely hide my excitement.

  Chapter 46

  Stoke’s agreed to help me make my jump-the-line video, so I’m hoping he’s on his way to the campus to pick up the video equipment. I’m still feeling creepy about promising him I’d show up at his place tonight, but also I’m feeling proud. I’ve convinced him he doesn’t need to pick me up after work tonight, not that I’m going. I’m done dancing at Omar’s until I find Robin and catch Megalo Don.

  I think I’m set to nail him, but I’ve got one more item to get off my plate. Thanks to the pervert lawyer who gave me a ride here and saved me some time, I’m almost ready to rock‘n roll.

  “Aurelia, hullo,”I say, sliding in the back door at Verbote Dental, expecting her to pounce on me. Fortunately, I’m not due today, so I won’t have to suffer Aurelia’s overbearing barrage of write-ups for being late. Today, however, I kind of wish she were here. The silence is freaking me out.

  “Aurelia, are you here?”

  Verbote Dental on a busy day feels like the morgue, but walking the gray carpeted hallway alone, I feel like I’ve entered a frightening underworld. The silence thickens. The plush wallpaper I’ve hated since I first started working here looks like the fur of a sleeping beast. I want to turn and run, but don’t. I promised Angie I’d find her killer. I’m here to make that happen.

 
But why isn’t Aurelia here?

  Hands at my side, I creep down the hall to Verbote’s lab and knock on the door.

  “Doctor Verbote? Um, Brick? Hullo. It’s me, Alaina. I’m sorry to bother you, but I—”

  The door flies open. Waving his ever-present scalpel, Brick studies me like I’m one of his impressions, or worse, like I’m a cadaver. A befuddled look clouding his face, he finally speaks. “Alaina, what are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Well, yeah. That’s the idea.

  I smile brightly, edge closer. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  He doesn’t. No surprise. This is Brick’s sanctuary. I’m the invader, albeit invader standing her ground. When I don’t budge, his befuddlement gives way to the usual dull wary look I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. Today, it’s a little less equine, edgier, and a tad more beastly.

  “Where’s Aurelia? I didn’t see her up front.”

  “I do not watch her,”he growls.

  Well, alrighty then. I’ve caught him off guard, but is that what’s wrong with Brick? Something’s definitely changed in his demeanor, and I don’t like it.

  “Um, I’m sorry to barge in on you. I know this is a surprise”—and if there’s one thing Brick hates, it’s a surprise—“but I need your help.”

  “Come back later. This isn’t a good time.”

  “It’s about Meera,”I say, hoping to excite his curiosity,“and . . . the other girls.”

  “Mmm-hmm,”Brick says, not giving an inch. “You’ve solved the case all by yourself, eh? A regular Sherlock Holmes.”

  I don’t think even Sea Biscuit’s head is as hard as Brick’s. Ignoring his mood, I pin back my shoulders and press on. “My brother’s in trouble, Brick—Doctor Verbote. Please, you’ve got to help me.”

  Seeing a glimmer of interest, I keep pitching. “The police think my brother killed those girls”—I glance inside the lab where I’d normally see Meera’s parts scattered over the stainless steel table—“but I know who’s doing it. It’s not Robin—”

  “Who?”Brick asks. Suddenly alert, he steps back, angling his huge head and staring down his equine nose at me. “Who might’ve committed all this murder and mayhem?”