The Witness Series Bundle

by Rebecca Forster

  "Yeah. Okay." Archer gave a grunt and a nod. He looked around the room. "So did you find anything?"

  Daniel reached for the book and fanned the pages. Then he put it back on the table and looked around the room.

  "No. I suppose you were right. There's nothing special here. Nothing special at all." Daniel sighed. "I would have expected more of Ms. Bates. Something more interesting."

  Archer had enough. He stood up. He had things to do, but Daniel wasn't finished.

  "You have to prepare yourself for the eventuality that she may never be found."

  Archer shrugged him off.

  "I don't give up, Young, and neither does Josie."

  "Perhaps denial is best for now." Daniel looked at his watch. "Just remember, I'm here for you if reality rears its ugly head. Now, I suppose I better be going."

  Daniel was almost out the bedroom door when Archer called to him:

  "What did Josie do to you?"

  Daniel turned around. He smiled as if he was pleased. Archer was finally beginning to realize that Josie Bates was not the woman he thought her to be.

  "Are you sure you want to know?"

  "Yeah," Archer answered.

  "She discredited me. Josie Bates questioned my integrity and my standing as a medical doctor. She found old records that indicated I had not finished my graduate work and she presented this information to the jury as if that made me a charlatan. I lost my standing with the media, the ethics board reviewed me, and it took me three years to straighten things out. By that time Josie Bates had moved on and made her fortune, and my practice was in a shambles."

  Daniel tilted his head and watched Archer. If he was hoping for sympathy he didn't get it. If he was hoping to see Archer's appreciation for Josie waver, he didn't see it. Daniel took a step closer to the big man.

  "Paul Rothskill? The young man who went for help that day? Josie Bates got him on the stand and pointed out to the jury that he was a convicted sex offender. In reality, he was a young man serving his church, and trying to help the teenagers in his charge. She painted him with the ugliest of brushes. She ruined his life."

  "Was he a pervert?" Archer demanded.

  "When he was eighteen he had sex with his sixteen-year-old girlfriend. Her parents brought charges. Josie Bates smeared Janey Wilson with her diary and with the fact that she had traveled to Mexico with a young man who had sex with an underaged girl. Josie Bates drove Isaiah Wilson to near madness. Josie Bates made Susie Atkins look like a little whore." Daniel paused, seemingly surprised at the passion in his story. He pulled back; he twisted his neck. He calmed himself and lowered his voice. "You know, now that I think of it, she and Xavier were well matched. They looked for weakness, and when they had the opportunity they exploited it. There is some skill in that; there is something to be admired about that ability. I suppose, though, someone is just better than she is at it now. Somebody smarter found her weak spot."

  "Xavier." Archer said.

  Daniel blinked.

  "Xavier, of course. But as you and Detective Driscoll speculated, there may be someone else. It could be anyone. In truth, I just don't think there are a lot of people who love Ms. Bates the way you do."

  With that, Daniel left Archer sitting in Josie's bedroom. He was too tired to move, too worried to know which way to turn. Then he heard the doorbell ring, his name called out, and he was re-energized. By the time he got to the living room, Daniel Young was gone and Liz Driscoll was waiting, grinning like a fool.

  "Let's go, cowboy!"

  CHAPTER 35

  An Outbuilding in the California Mountains

  Josie broke off the edge of the energy bar and held it out to Erika, but the other woman's eyes were glued to their tiny window on the world. The sun was starting to go down. The heat had settled beside them like the fat relative at a small Thanksgiving table.

  "Erika!" Josie picked up the blonde's hand and put the piece of food into it.

  Erika put it in her mouth while Josie rewrapped the oatmeal bar carefully, intent on preserving any fingerprints that might be on the plastic coated paper. That would make two pieces of evidence if they were lucky. When she was done, she leaned back against the wall and nibbled at her own little chunk.

  "He's coming tonight," Erika said.

  "Yeah?" Josie said.

  "He is," Erika insisted. "Tonight is going to be different. I think it's getting close to the end. I think this was all some kind of joke or a test or something."

  She pulled her eyes away from the small hole in the wall. Her skin had a pink tinge, the color of the sunset. She smiled at Josie as she scooted back to rest against the opposite wall. Josie smiled back. She couldn't take her eyes off Erika Gardener whose own were bright with excitement.

  "You know, we might be on television or something. Like a reality show."

  Josie nodded.

  This was not good.

  Sepulveda Boulevard, Torrance

  "Arnson called. Him and Levinsky are stuck at a triple homicide, so he thought we could check this out and let him know what we find."

  Liz's eyes darted left and right to monitor the traffic. She wanted to get where they were going, and she wanted to get there fast. There was only one problem. No one got anywhere fast once you got out of the beach areas.

  "Don't get your hopes up. We may not find anything," Archer warned.

  "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it could be something. Hell's bells, I didn't even think about asking if Hernandez was monitored. It's amazing what they can do with those things. They've got GPS technology on those ankle bracelets."

  "But why didn't Cuwin Martin tell Arnson and Levinsky that Hernandez was wearing a GPS when they first caught the case?" Archer asked.

  "Because it wasn't him who spilled the beans. Cuwin's supervisor took his files because he's been out on sick leave."

  "More like putting his head in the sand," Archer countered.

  "Either way, he wasn't exactly doing a bang up job on the follow-up of Hernandez. The darn monitor went off like Fourth of July fireworks in the last month. Hernandez wasn't staying put, but the monitors only reported his movement half the time and half of that time Cuwin blew it off. He put most of the reports in the round file, if you know what I mean. He's a lazy son of a bitch," Liz decided. "Anyway, Levinsky is going to run down the movement in 90036 zip to see if Hernandez was anywhere near Erika Gardener's place. It made sense to send the South Bay tracking our way. So, we're going to check out this place in El Segundo because the GPS put him there within the last week."

  "How is Hagarty hanging?"

  "What he doesn't know won't hurt him, Archer." She put a skinny finger to her lips and then laughed from her belly.

  "Just watch your butt so nothing comes around to bite it," he warned.

  "I could get down with that depending on who's doing the biting," Liz quipped as she slid her eyes his way. Archer couldn't help but laugh. There was no way Liz Driscoll could look enticing, but he admired her for working with what she had. He would truly hate to see her go down. Liz Driscoll was one of the good people, and it was clear she was sticking out her neck for him, not Josie.

  "What did they tell you?" Archer asked as they came to a stoplight.

  "Hernandez was on the Westside, he's been down here and around Hollywood. I'd bet you anything he was in the hills. That means he has transportation and mom's car is out. He didn't have money for his own. Even if he did, nobody was going to insure him." The light changed. She hit the gas. "Anyway, that's how he got the photographs."

  "He took them with a car?"

  "Funny." She grimaced. "I tell you shit's going to hit the fan if we don't find those ladies alive. Parole is already in a helluva of a lot trouble these days-"

  Archer only half listened to Liz's litany of screw ups by the parole board and their minions. Liz didn't have a clue her off-handed comment was anything personal and he couldn't blame her. Archer had been where she was, wanting
a break, a big case, a spotlight bust. Still, in her excitement, she was losing sight of the human element, and that meant Liz Driscoll might make decisions that weren't in the best interest of the victims. It wasn't for him to point this out because he walked the other side of the road: the victims were all he cared about and that made for its own slippery slope.

  "There it is." Liz glanced to her left and eased into the median. She cut her eyes Archer's way, and her grin faltered as she noted his expression. "You okay?"

  "I'm good," he assured her. "And so are you. Let's do this."

  "You got it."

  Liz turned away to attend to traffic, but her smile was gone. Archer was right. It was time to get serious.

  They were on the border of Torrance and El Segundo, waiting to make a left that would let them cross the wide and busy highway. The flush at Liz's jaw, the sparkle in her eye, did not escape Archer's notice. Pleased with his validation, Liz turned the wheel and the car bounced over the railroad track that still serviced a run from L.A. to Santa Monica. She drove past the big, high gates and finally stopped in front of the office of A1-Storage.

  The California Mountains

  He loved the wind in his hair. It was a long way to go, but he was taking a leisurely ride this time. He liked that it would be dark by the time he arrived. His presence would be unexpected. He would surprise them once more. Gaslight them. Why not? Tit-for-tat the way they had done to him all those years ago. He would wake them up and make them play. Twenty questions was his game. It would be a cross examination combined with a journalist's interview. He had packed prizes. If they answered his questions correctly, they would each get one.

  Maybe.

  If they didn't, well, wouldn't he just show them that he could play hardball, too.

  A-1 Storage, El Segundo

  The A-1 Storage facility was deceptive. From the street it looked like a few garages sitting on a patch of land between an abandoned body shop on one side and an empty lot on the other. Now that Archer and Liz were behind the gates, the landscape changed: hundreds of storage units radiated across acres of land. Row upon row of freshly painted, identical steel buildings lined wide, paved lanes. You could get a flatbed back here, and the units were big enough to store a good-sized boat. There was no landscaping, nothing that would entice anyone to waste a minute more here than was necessary.

  Liz cut the engine and pulled on the emergency brake. They opened their respective doors simultaneously. It was dusk now and the spotlights atop each unit were lit but ineffectual. When it was dark, the place would look like Stalag 13.

  "There's got to be a hundred of them." Liz was looking around even as she came to stand with Archer.

  "We only need one to cough something up," Archer noted, quietly hoping they wouldn't find two dead bodies.

  Liz led the way; Archer was close behind as they walked up the three wooden steps that led to a door marked 'office'. The 'office' was nothing more than a converted storage unit, changing out the rollup to double glass doors. Inside was cool, narrow and basic. There was a desk, a couple of filing cabinets and a guy who looked like he should be selling insurance instead of sitting in a little metal box watching television.

  "Hey." He greeted them without taking his eyes from the screen. "Just a sec. They're going to have the reveal any minute. You wouldn't believe what this woman used to look like. She was butt ugly. I mean b-u-t-t ugly. Coyote ugly. Here she comes. Oh, God! She looks worse. What a dog."

  Archer looked at Liz. Liz shrugged just as the man turned an absolutely delighted face their way. He didn't seem to mind that they hadn't uttered a word.

  "These make-over shows are incredible. What Not To Wear is the best. That Windy person's show isn't bad, but this one – what's her name, the cook lady with the talk show? Come on. Big chic." He looked at the two as if they should know. Suddenly he snapped his fingers, totally delighted with himself. "Corrine something. Yeah. She does the worst ones. Ever watch it?"

  Happily he looked from Liz to Archer, but Liz caught his attention when she pulled out her I.D. The guy behind the desk was not really impressed and definitely not nervous.

  "Why didn't you say so?" He grinned wider.

  "We wanted you to have your moment," Liz answered. "You done?"

  "Oh yeah. Show's over. What do you need?" The man rearranged his face into an expression of concern, but when he furrowed his brow his eyes seemed to cross. Archer thought it looked painful.

  "We're looking for a guy named Xavier Hernandez. Five seven. Good build. Black hair. We had him here about a week ago according to his monitoring. Maybe he rents a unit," Liz suggested. "Want to see a picture?"

  "Nope. I see people who rent these units for like five minutes while they fill out the paperwork. I never see them again after they get their key. I'd be hard pressed to remember what any of them look like."

  The man rolled his chair away, spun around and landed expertly in front of the smaller filing cabinet. Archer wondered how many hours he had spent perfecting the move between waiting for someone to walk through the door and the next makeover show. He whipped open the drawer. Behind him someone on TV was still gushing and Archer couldn't resist a look. The guy turned back and caught him in the act.

  "A dog, right? Huh? See what I'm sayin'?" The man's head bobbed up and down.

  "I've seen better," Archer admitted and then he stepped forward. "What have you got?"

  "I'm really not supposed to show you this without a court order. Privacy stuff and all that." The man said it like it was no skin off his nose if someone squawked.

  "I can get one," Liz offered, "but this is a life and death thing. I'd hate to waste any more time than we have to. So, maybe you could just chat with us a little bit. We'll start by assuming Hernandez rented a unit here because you are holding a file."

  "Yeah, you could assume that. Good customer. He's been with me since-" The man cracked the lips of the folder like he was peeking at a Christmas present, "-1997."

  Archer and Liz looked at one another.

  "Really? Were you here then?" Liz asked.

  "Yep."

  "You sure it was him that rented the unit. Not a woman?"

  "Nope. It was him. I would have had to see his I.D.," he assured them. "Unless he was on that chick's make-over show. Some of those makeovers look like guys when they're done." He guffawed, pleased with himself. "I'm tellin' ya. Know what I mean?"

  "Yeah, we got it." Archer tapped his temple. "Is there anything in the unit?"

  "Hey, I don't stick my nose in," he objected. "Besides, not my job. Trucks are in and out of here all day. He rented that space like 8 years ago."

  "Seven," Liz corrected.

  "What?"

  "Seven years ago."

  "Seven, six, eight. All I know is the bill gets paid every month, and that makes me happy 'cause I don't have to make those reminder calls. Hate those damn calls."

  "How does he pay?" Liz asked.

  "Check."

  "Got copies?"

  "Naw, we changed over to electronic about three years ago." He twirled his chair around again. Archer would bet he was singing along to Stayin' Alive in his head. He bounced in his chair, happy as a clam to have someone to talk to. "I can track it down, but for that I'm going to need an order for sure."

  "Can we take a look inside his unit?" Liz asked, but it sounded more like an order.

  The guy shrugged. "Am I going to get in trouble if I show you?"

  "I think you were probably concerned that you smelled smoke and opened that unit to check it out. We just happened to be here to offer our assistance to a citizen."

  "Okay. Sure."

  He put his nose in the air like he was sniffing. He got it. He grinned. He was having fun. He hopped up, grabbed his key, double checked his records and led them out the door and into the facility.

  Behind them, the television host continued to gush.

  Mrs. Rice's Apartment, West Los Angeles
>
  Mrs. Rice, a woman of sour disposition even when she was at home, ate her dinner early on a T.V. tray in front of the television. Her husband worked nights, and that was fine with her since she always brought home a lot of work.

  Tonight she was lamenting the fact that she had left Hannah Sheraton's file at the office. Given what she was seeing on the local news, the girl was completely out of control. No doubt the video would go viral. The public seemed to have an insatiable appetite for beautiful young girls acting out. Mrs. Rice had never done anything like that in her entire life. Then again, if she had, no one would have noticed. She had never been beautiful and even she doubted she had ever been young. Still stinging from her defeat in court, Mrs. Rice was sure she would vindicate herself with this proof that Hannah Sheraton was living a permissive existence in a beach town whose notoriety stemmed from annual volleyball tournaments and drinking contests. Add to that her attack on a man of God, and this was just the fodder Mrs. Rice needed to revisit the forty-eight hour ruling Judge Leisinger had handed down.

  That kid was a loose cannon. She had to go, and she had to go as soon as possible.

  CHAPTER 36

  A-1 Storage, El Segundo

  Unit 244 was down the main path and over one at the end of the row just in front of a high wall that was topped by curling barbed wire.

  "Is there only one way into these units?" Archer asked as he eyed the wide rolling door that was closed and padlocked.

  "Yep. Once your stuff is in there, the only way to get it out is through this door."

  Satisfied, Archer moved closer and to the right. Once they opened it there was no telling what could happen. If Hernandez was behind the door, there was going to be a fight. Archer would assume he had weapons. If so, no one wanted to be directly in the line of fire. If he didn't have anything and he tried to run, he would have to get through three people in order to make his escape. Make that two. The manager, Archer figured, would be pretty useless.