by G. K. Parks
Once I was dry and warm, I phoned Justin. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t order new letterheads yet.”
“Not yet. Is everything okay?”
“I hope so. Tell Knox he can go home. I’ll stop by and see him tomorrow, but Vasili won’t bother him again.”
“Will do.”
I yawned, wanting nothing more than to climb under the covers. “Thanks, Justin. Get some sleep. You’ve earned it.”
“A raise would be nice too.”
“You already own shares in the company. What more could you possibly want?”
“I’ll make a list.”
“Fine. Give it to my assistant, and tell him to take care of it.”
He laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.”
“Actually, aside from paying Knox a visit, I’m taking the day off.”
Thirty-four
I slept in the next morning, something I hadn’t done since recovering from surgery. Despite getting plenty of rest, I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Both of my eyes were black. My nose was swollen to the point where I had to breathe out of my mouth, and my jaw hurt as I chewed my cereal. The rest of me didn’t feel much better either. My back had started spasming in the middle of the night and had yet to stop, and my limbs were sore and achy.
Somehow, I thought I’d feel better today, relieved or just lighter. But I didn’t. I felt like shit and looked just as bad. The local papers had articles about last night’s shooting at the docks. The police were still investigating. A reward was offered to anyone with knowledge of what happened, but I wasn’t worried about eyewitnesses. No one else had been there except the gang, and they wouldn’t turn themselves in.
The article mentioned a prominent figure in the Russian mafia had been murdered. The police feared it might be the start of war between the Russians and whoever killed Vasili. Organized crime and gangs would have a field day with this one. I didn’t know if the Russians would retaliate, but I didn’t think Vasili had shared his blunder concerning Knox and my involvement with his comrades. If he did, someone would probably pay me a visit shortly. I’d just have to wait and see.
Picking up the phone, I called Sgt. Rostokowski. She didn’t answer, which meant she was busy doling out assignments and keeping the officers on task with the investigation, so I left her a message saying I was just calling to check-in and that I was fine. She wouldn’t connect me to last night’s mess. She’d never think I was stupid enough to get involved in something like that, and even if she did, she’d never share her suspicions with anyone.
The only thing left for me to do was get rid of the ring. I’d give it back to Knox and call it a day. After slipping into casual clothes, I headed over to Knox’s house. He’d told the security guards at the gate that I’d be stopping by, so they waved me through.
I didn’t see Knox’s car parked out front. Considering the time, he might have gone to work. After yesterday, he had to come up with some excuse to give his boss. Food poisoning or a stomach virus were always good reasons to avoid the office, but Knox might not have thought of that. Knowing him, he probably went to work first thing this morning to make up for lost time.
When I knocked on the front door, it squeaked open. That wasn’t good. Unholstering my gun, I edged toward the open door. “Mr. Knox?” I called. “Trey? Are you here?”
I listened, but I didn’t hear any movement. The security guards at the gate hadn’t noticed anything amiss. Was it possible Knox had been in such a rush to get to the office he forgot to lock his door?
“Knox?” I called again, stepping inside. His security system was deactivated. The sensors and cameras remained offline. Had he deactivated them? From a glance, the system didn’t appear tampered with, but that didn’t mean anything. “Hello?”
The foyer didn’t show any signs of a struggle. Neither did the living room or kitchen. I didn’t see Knox’s phone, keys, or attaché case anywhere. If he went out, he would have taken them with him. Maybe he really had left the door unlocked, but my gut said otherwise.
“Is anyone here?” I continued through the house, checking each room as I went. Nothing appeared disturbed, no broken glass or missing items. Wouldn’t the guards at the gate have told me Knox wasn’t home when I arrived? Did they even pay attention? The neighborhood consisted of a dozen homes, spread in a line, on a dead end street. It was supposed to be the ideal gated community. So where was Knox?
Scuff marks on the floor halted my search. I crouched down, keeping one eye on my surroundings. Black, rubbery streaks marred the hardwood. The two narrow skids were roughly eight inches apart. It looked like someone had been dragged. Beside the scuff marks were a few elliptical drops of what had to be blood.
Carefully, I made my way into the bedroom. The bed was unmade, but the covers remained tucked in on two sides. No blood or other substances covered the exposed sheets, so I didn’t think Knox had been attacked while asleep. I didn’t spend too long analyzing the bedding, but I didn’t notice any long hairs or other indications he’d had company last night.
I checked the closet. No one was hiding inside, and nothing appeared missing. Taking a breath, I nudged open the bathroom door. The first thing I saw was my reflection in Knox’s new mirror. Luckily, I didn’t shoot the rough-looking guy staring back at me.
The bathroom literally sparkled in the morning sun. The entire floor was covered in glass. I didn’t know where it came from until I peered into the shower. The glass door had been decimated so entirely not a single shard hung from the metal frame. A few drops of blood dotted the tiles.
Now what do I do? I crouched down to get a better look at the shower drain. Using the tip of my pocket knife, I pried up the flimsy metal catcher. A dark red ring lined the edge of the drain. More blood. Possibly a lot more blood. I had no idea how much might have washed away.
First things first, I sucked in some air and called Knox. After five rings, the call went to voicemail. I tried his office, but his assistant said he hadn’t shown up for work in the last two days.
“Did he call in sick?” I asked.
“No, we haven’t heard from him since yesterday morning. He said something came up and he’d be a little late, but he never showed.”
“Has anyone else called asking for him today?”
“No,” she considered the question for a moment, “why would you ask that?”
“Just wondering.” I hung up before she could ask any more questions.
Before replacing the hair catcher, I grabbed one of the cotton swabs from the container on the vanity and collected a sample of blood from inside the drain and swiped Knox’s toothbrush from the holder. I wasn’t sure why I did that. I hadn’t even figured out if Knox had been attacked or taken, but someone had bled in the bathroom. I had to find out who.
I went into the kitchen and searched the cabinets until I found some sandwich bags. I put the cotton swab in one and the toothbrush in the other. That would have to suffice for DNA analysis. It should be that simple. TV made it seem that simple. I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to waste time calling Amir to ask what he’d need. He’d just have to make do with what I brought him.
Before leaving the house, I went into Knox’s study and checked the security system. Assuming the blood drops weren’t caused by tripping in the tub and crashing through the shower door, which at this moment seemed just as plausible as anything else, I wanted to see what the security system showed. When I tried to check the logs, I realized the hard drives were gone.
Someone did this. Knox could be alive or dead. He could be anywhere, and even though I told myself that as soon as I dropped the ring off I could wash my hands of this mess, I had to find out what happened to him because the same fate could be waiting for me.
Now what do I do? My mind raced. After last night, my instincts were to erase my presence and disappear, but that was stupid. Or was it? The guy at the gate buzzed me in. He knew I was supposed to see Knox. When Knox’s employer or someone else called the pol
ice to report him missing, my name would come up in the course of the investigation.
If the Russians had retaliated, they’d come for me next. Svetlana’s body might have already surfaced. A tip could have been called in hours ago. The police could be getting a warrant for my arrest. If I called to report whatever this was, they’d find me without any muss or fuss.
I looked around the house. I’d gone through all the rooms, but I hadn’t touched anything with my bare hands. The cold weather had forced me to wear my gloves, and I hadn’t taken them off. That was a plus. I took the ring out of my pocket, carefully wiped it clean, and placed it in a drawer in Knox’s study. The last thing I needed were the cops to find it at my place or the office.
“Think, Cross. Think.” I had used my cell phone to call Knox. At least I’d been smart enough to ditch the burner on my way home last night, not that it mattered. Well, it might. I didn’t know. Jeez, I was paranoid. Guilty was more accurate.
Unsure how to proceed, I called Mr. Almeada. Who better than a lawyer to advise me in this situation? The woman who answered said he was in a client meeting.
“This is an emergency. I just need to speak to him for two minutes.”
“He’ll call you back.” She hung up before I could resort to begging.
I couldn’t just wait around. I had to do something. I dialed the office. “Justin, have you heard from Mr. Knox today?”
“No. What’s wrong?”
I cleared my throat. “Has anyone been by the office asking for me?”
“Just Winnie from King Realty. She wanted to let you know the offer you made was officially accepted and everything’s been signed.”
“No one else?”
“No.”
“All right, I need you to see if you can locate Knox. Try pinging his phone. If that doesn’t work, pull his vehicle records, get his VIN, and check to see if he has an anti-theft system installed, roadside assistance, or a GPS system. I don’t care what. I have to know where he is.”
While I waited for Justin to work some magic, I left Knox’s house and went to speak to the guys at the gate. The rent-a-cop security guards were sitting inside the little shack, sipping coffee and eating bagels. They were watching a game show and bickering over if the showcase was worth more or less than the last contestant’s bid.
“Mr. Knox isn’t home,” I said, interrupting them.
The one in navy blue turned in the booth to look at Knox’s house. “Hey, you’re right. His car’s not there.”
No shit. “What time did he leave?”
The one in navy exchanged a look with the one in light blue. “Did you see him leave, Pete?”
Pete rolled in front of the control panel. “His fob activated the gate at 8:02, but I don’t remember seeing him.”
“Do you mind if I ask what happened? He knew I was coming. I just wondered if he had any unexpected guests or an emergency that caused him to rush out early this morning.” Resting my forearms on the edge of the window to their booth, I tried to appear as nonthreatening and concerned as possible.
“Let me see.” The one in navy checked the logs. “Only a few delivery drivers came into the neighborhood this morning. Everyone else lives here, except you.”
“And Mr. Knox didn’t leave any messages for me or anything?”
“Did you try calling him? He might have forgotten,” Pete said.
“He’s not answering.”
“He’s probably at work. You should check there.”
Before I could ask any more questions, my phone rang. I looked down at the display. Almeada. “Sorry to have bothered you.” I held up my phone. “I’ll try back later.” As soon as I was safely inside my car and halfway through the gate, I answered the call.
“Lucien, what’s wrong? Give me the short version.”
“My client’s missing. His front door’s open, and I found a broken shower door and some drops of blood in his bathroom. What should I do?”
“I’m going to need a little more than that.”
“Knox is gone. I don’t know where. The Russians tried to kill him yesterday. You know which Russians. He was fine, and today, he’s gone.”
“Aren’t those the ones I read about in the paper?”
“Yes.”
“The same one who—”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think they’ve taken him?”
“I don’t know what’s going on. He was supposed to be safe. This was supposed to be over.”
“Okay, calm down.”
“How can I calm down? A kill squad could be on their way to find me, or the police could be waiting at my house or office to arrest me for something I didn’t do.” How ironic, since I didn’t think they’d ever find enough proof to arrest me for what I actually did.
Almeada cursed quietly. “I’m in the middle of something here, but I’ll get someone to make a few calls and find out if any warrants have been issued or are in the works. In the meantime, get your ass to my office. We’ll discuss the rest in person and figure out your next move.”
“So I just leave the crime scene? What if the Russians try to pin this on me too? Shouldn’t I call it in?”
“There’s no body. No obvious signs of an attack or an abduction. Despite what you think you know, can you say for certain a crime was even committed?”
“No.” Without a body, there was no crime. My thoughts went to Svetlana who’d been killed only thirty-six hours ago and then shot with my gun. What about her body? Where was that? With Vasili gone, would it surface? Why hadn’t I thought about this yesterday before the shit hit the fan? “Oh god.”
“Get over here. We’ll figure this out,” he promised.
If nothing else, the law office might serve as a temporary sanctuary or a purgatory until I was sent to hell. At least they had good coffee and plenty of booze. “I’m on my way.”
Thirty-five
“You stole his toothbrush?” Almeada stared wide-eyed at me.
“I want to make sure the blood is Knox’s. It made sense when I did it.” Frankly, it still made sense.
“That’s tampering with evidence.”
“So don’t tell anyone.” I took a breath, forcing myself to focus. “Explain to me how a toothbrush is evidence. At worst, I tampered with a crime scene, not evidence. And I thought we agreed Knox’s house is not the scene of a crime unless additional facts to the contrary surface.” Should the cops raid my office and discover the item, I’d say Knox was obsessed with dental hygiene and must have forgotten it after visiting our bathroom.
“I’m glad you were paying attention.” The attorney circled the room, absently straightening the framed degrees hanging on the wall. “Any idea where Knox is?”
“I’m looking into it. His phone’s in airplane mode, so we can’t get a location. As far as the whereabouts of his car, it was left in the parking garage at his office.”
Almeada turned around to face me. “So he went to work?”
“It appears that way. Except when I spoke to his assistant, she said no one has heard from him since yesterday morning. And with the broken shower door and the blood, I’m not sure he’s even alive.”
“So you were the last person to see him?”
“No, Justin was.” I gently picked at the edge of the tape covering my nose. It had started to curl.
“You already caught me up on the fight in the street. Is there anything else I need to know?”
“Vasili Petrov’s dead. I thought that would solve everything. But now Knox is missing, and I have no idea what became of the dead hooker’s body.”
“The DA’s office hasn’t heard anything on the subject of the Russians. No warrant requests have come in. The police are still piecing everything together.”
“Last night’s shooting didn’t have anything to do with me,” I lied, figuring I should start practicing now.
“Yeah, well, if the hooker’s body surfaced, the DA’s office would have heard about it. They didn’t.”
&nbs
p; “You asked?”
“Give me some credit. I know how to get answers without asking questions. That’s my job.”
“So what do I do now?”
“Sit tight. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re jumping to conclusions, which arguably could be a hazard of working private security and growing up in a law enforcement family.” But we both knew that wasn’t the cause of my anxiety. “If the police suspect Knox’s sudden disappearance is the result of foul play, they’ll have questions. Don’t speak to anyone without me there. I’ll tell you when to avoid answering, but there’s no reason not to be truthful. You went to see your client about final payment. He was expecting you. You found it odd the front door was open, but thought he might have left it that way for you. When you couldn’t find him, you searched the house, found the broken shower door, figured he slipped and had to go to the emergency room. You checked with the guards posted at the gate who had waved you into the neighborhood, and they told you they remembered him leaving. You called the office, but they hadn’t seen him. That was it.”
“Great.” At least I had my story straight. Now I just had to find out what actually happened to Trey Knox.
“As far as your other worries, I don’t know what to tell you. Now that Vasili’s dead, the others in his organizations might not have any problem implicating him, but the police would be less likely to pursue charges against you if they suspect a dead gangster is responsible for his own sex worker’s death.”
“Again with the optimism?”
“Don’t you pay me for positive outcomes?”
“That I do.” Groaning, I got out of the chair and rubbed my back. Had I not been facing a potential imminent arrest, I would have popped a few more pills, but being high wouldn’t help matters, prescription or not.
“One final thing,” Almeada said before I left his office, “if you can avoid the cops until your face heals, I’d suggest you do that. They might unfairly judge your appearance and arrest you for looking like a criminal.”
With that cheery thought, I left the law firm and headed for Cross Security. Amir was meeting me there to collect the samples. He still had privileges at the lab where he previously worked, so he could perform a DNA comparison.