by Tripp Ellis
“Call Joel, tell him I referred you. I can’t make any guarantees, but if your stuff is good, you never know.”
“Thank you!” she said with bright eyes. “That’s amazingly generous of you.”
“Like I said, it’s the least I could do.”
“I’m a hugger. Give me a hug,” she said.
I leaned across the center console, and I tried not to wince as she gave me a hug.
“Oops, sorry!” she said, seeing my pained face.
I climbed out of the car and stepped into the lobby. I strolled to the front desk and flashed my badge. “I’m looking for Lyric Stone. She checked in last night under an assumed name.”
42
The clerk punched in the information and scanned the computer screen. She didn’t say anything about my bruised face. I think the sunglasses concealed most of it. But my lips were fat, split, and swollen.
“I’m sorry, sir. But it seems like the guest you are inquiring about checked out this morning.”
My brow lifted with surprise. What!?”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“You’re sure?”
She checked the screen again. “Yes, sir. Positive.”
I grumbled to myself, then said, “Thank you.”
I left the desk and headed to the elevators. The call button lit up as I pressed it, and a moment later, the doors slid open. I made my way back to the hotel room and knocked on the door. I didn’t have my key, and I had forgotten to get another one at the front desk. I didn’t think about it until I dug my hand into my pocket for it.
Nobody answered.
I kept banging on the door.
Somebody finally shouted, “Go away! No service.”
“It’s Tyson. Open the door.”
A moment later, I heard footsteps. Dizzy pulled open the door, and his jet black hair looked like a tornado hit it. Twisted strands hung in his face. His eyelids were heavy, and he could barely keep them open. “You look like you had a rougher night than we did.”
I stepped into the foyer and marched past him.
“Nice shades,” he said, genuinely impressed.
The hotel room was wrecked. Empty beer cans and whiskey bottles were strewn about. Naked girls were bunched like sardines into the foldout bed. It looked like the band had a hell of a good time last night. A lot better than I did.
I moved to the house phone and dialed Lyric’s cell phone. It went straight to voicemail. "Hey, I'm back at the Château. The front desk said you checked out. Where are you? I don't have my cell phone any longer. Call me at the hotel. Let me know you're okay."
JD emerged from his bedroom. "What happened to you?"
I told him about my exploits. "Did you get my message?"
"Sorry, man. Things got pretty out of hand last night."
"I see that."
"I think we hit just about every club on the strip." He puffed up with a proud grin. "I behaved myself."
"Still saving yourself for Sloan?"
"I am. I'm born again."
I rolled my eyes, and even that hurt.
"When we finally hook up, it's gonna be so good," JD said, salivating at the possibility.
"I'm worried about Lyric," I said.
"Do you think she went back to her house?"
I shrugged. "She's not answering her phone. I don't know where she could be." I sighed. "I'm going to take a shower, get changed, then catch a cab to her place and see if she's there."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
I shook my head. "No. You don't need to get dragged into this."
He looked at me like I was crazy. "What you get dragged into, I get dragged into, brother."
A slight smirk curled my face. Good friends are priceless.
I took off my hat and sunglasses. JD's eyes rounded. "Damn, son, they worked you over good!"
"Tell me about it."
I crawled into the shower and let the warm water soothe my aching muscles. After toweling off, I got dressed—even that was a task. I knew from experience I needed to keep moving. Laying around would just cause things to stiffen up.
I stepped from the bedroom into the common area of the suite. The band was up, and Dizzy was on the balcony with one of the strippers. They were both smoking a joint. Half-naked girls bobbled around without a care in the world.
JD emerged from his bedroom with a pistol in a Kydex holster. He handed it to me. "I figure you could use this.” I pulled the weapon from the holster, press-checked it, then affixed the holster inside my waistband.
He pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and handed it to me. "A little walking-around money."
"I need a new phone, too. They took everything."
“We’ll swing by Lyric’s, then we can hit a store afterward and pick up a new device."
We left the band, headed down to the lobby, and caught a cab. The car climbed up into the hills, twisting through Lyric’s neighborhood. When the driver dropped us off, I asked him to wait.
I hopped out of the car and scurried up the driveway and rang the front doorbell. There was no answer. No sign of forced entry.
I walked the perimeter of the house, looking for anything amiss. But there were no broken windows, no doors left ajar. Everything was locked up tight. I kept peering in through the windows, looking for Lyric. I was sure a neighbor would call the cops, thinking I was a peeping Tom.
The cab driver was still parked in front of the house after we had trekked around the premises. We climbed into the car, and I told him to take us to the nearest mall.
We wandered through the mall in Century City and found the Pear store. JD put my new phone on his credit card. I immediately synced the device with the cloud and downloaded my contacts. Then I remotely erased my old phone and locked it out.
There were no messages or calls from Lyric. I was seriously worried at this point in time.
We left the mall and caught a cab back to the Château. The room smelled like a medical marijuana dispensary when we entered, and a bluish haze filled the air.
"Dude, glad you made it back. We got soundcheck in an hour." Dizzy said.
Jack's eyes rounded. "Shit, I forgot."
"How could you forget. It’s the entire reason we came out here."
All of the band's gear was still in the van. They needed to take it to the venue, load in, set up for soundcheck, then break it down again, only to set it up later for the show. Each band that evening would have half an hour, then they were kicked off stage. It was a high-churn venue, and they were all paying for the privilege to grace the infamous stage.
I needed to get off my feet for a minute. I was so battered and bruised that I was already worn out, and I hadn't done anything yet. I crawled into bed with the intention of just laying down for a few minutes, but I must have dozed off.
When I woke up, the band was gone. The TV in the living room was still on, tuned to a local channel. I staggered into the living room, brushed some of the beer cans off the sofa, and took a seat.
My bones creaked.
A reporter came on TV with a breaking news segment. “One of KXTLA's own is missing. We bring you concerning news this afternoon that investigative reporter, Lyric Stone, is currently missing. She failed to show up at the studio today, and her car was found abandoned near Olympic. Station management has been unable to reach her. If anyone has seen her, or has information about her whereabouts, please contact the station or local law enforcement immediately. We will continue to keep you updated on this concerning development."
43
My stomach twisted, and my hands balled into fists. I grit my teeth and grumbled a few obscenities.
There was no doubt who was responsible, but I felt helpless.
I called Isabella. "I have a situation."
"What else is new?"
I gave her the details. "Can you track Chuck Paxton's cell phone and tell me where he is?"
"I can try."
“Find Lyric Stone’s cell phone for me as well."
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"I'll call you back."
I ended the call and waited on the edge of my seat like a teenage girl waiting for someone to ask her to prom. I climbed off the couch and paced the room, nervous sweat misting my skin. Isabella couldn't call me back fast enough.
I swiped the screen and answered the phone when it rang. "What did you find out?”
"The number I have for Paxton is not showing up on the grid. He could be using a burner phone, or it could be turned off."
"What about Lyric?"
"From what I can tell, her phone is at her house in the hills."
I grimaced. "She's not there. I checked earlier. The news has reported her missing.”
”What do you want me to do?" Isabella asked. It was a genuine offer, and something she rarely volunteered.
I noticed that she had stopped holding her services over my head. I knew the time would come when she would ask for a return favor, but she wasn't as vocal about it anymore. Perhaps it was an implied part of our communication. Perhaps she appreciated what I had done for her in Colombia.
"Let me know if Paxton pops up on your radar."
"Will do," she said.
I ended the call and slipped my phone back into my pocket.
In my mind, I ran through the possibilities. Either Paxton had taken Lyric hostage, or he had killed her. I hated to admit it, but my mind gravitated toward the latter. For all Paxton knew, I was dead. What good would taking Lyric as a hostage serve unless he knew I was still alive? And if that was the case, why wouldn't he just come after me directly?
I kept pacing around the hotel room as the wheels spun in my mind. After another 20 minutes of frantic worry, my phone buzzed again. I pulled the device from my pocket and looked at the screen. It was Nikki Griffin. I took the call.
“Deputy Wild?" Nikki's sultry, but commanding voice asked.
"I'm surprised you called," I said.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures."
"I spoke with Bonnie.”
“I know. That’s why I’m calling. I am as tired of a certain detective as you are, Deputy."
"Have you been watching the news? I think he may have done something to Lyric?"
"In my experience, Detective Paxton is capable of just about anything. I have been living under his thumb for far too long. Bonnie had enough, and I think she was finally ready to file a formal complaint. That’s what has me worried. I can’t get in touch with her.“
My heart sank, and I clenched my jaw.
“I thought she’d be safe on my boat,” Nikki said. “I’m worried sick, and I feel terrible. Bonnie is like a little sister to me.”
A little sister that she pimps out on occasion.
“Do you think you could meet me down at the marina to check on her?”
44
I sent JD a text that I was heading down to the marina. I didn’t hear back. I figured he was in the middle of the soundcheck.
Joel called. “I’ve got a meeting set up with Susan Monday morning. 9 AM. I spoke with David, he’s really excited. He says you two are in sync creatively, and he has high hopes for the series.”
“That’s great. I’m about to run out the door. Can I call you later?”
“Sure. One thing. I got a call from a girl named Opal… Says you referred her?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you have a chance to read her writing? Is she any good?”
“No. I didn’t read anything. She did me a favor.”
“Gotcha,” he replied, almost with a groan.
“A big favor.”
“Was the blow job that good?”
“Not that kind of favor.”
I gave him the condensed version of what happened.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. A little battered and bruised, but I’m fine.”
“Geez, Tyson. All you had to do was come out here and work on a story with the biggest director in Hollywood. Can’t you go one minute without getting yourself into trouble?”
“I try to keep things interesting,” I said. “And it keeps you employed.”
“I have plenty of other clients. I don’t need you to get beaten half to death just to have a story to sell.”
“Is that genuine concern I hear in your voice?” I asked.
“Do you even need to ask?”
I chuckled. “You’re one-of-a-kind, Joel. Especially in this town.”
“I will take that as a compliment.” He paused. “Try to stay out of trouble,” he said, knowing that was impossible.
Just as I hung up, there was a knock at the door.
A spike of concern jolted through me. There was no doubt I was unsettled and a little twitchy after what I had been through.
My hands snatched the pistol from its holster, and I crept down the foyer to the door. I peered through the tiny peephole. Through the distorted lens, I saw a stunning brunette with a roller case in tow.
My brow crinkled with shock.
It was Sloan.
I jammed the pistol back into the holster, unlatched the door, and pulled it open.
“Surprise!” she said with a cheery smile. The cheery smile instantly faded. “My God, what happened to your face?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Tripped and fell.”
She gave me a skeptical glance.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised to see her.
Concern washed over her pretty face. “Should I not have come?”
“Quite the contrary. I think JD will be ecstatic to see you.” I stepped aside and motioned for her to enter.
“I should have told him I was coming.” She rolled her bag into the suite, and the flowery scent of her perfume filled the air.
I poked my head into the exterior hallway and scanned both directions.
It was empty.
I closed the door and followed her into the living room. “JD will be delighted.”
Sloan’s lip curled with disgust. The place looked like a shithole.
“I can see you guys are having fun.”
I’m sure she noticed a pair of frilly panties on the floor by the pull out sofa-bed. “Delighted, huh?”
“Don’t worry. Jack’s not having that much fun.”
She rolled her eyes, knowing Jack’s predilections. “Where is everybody?”
“They’re at the soundcheck.”
“I thought I’d come out for the show. Lend a little moral support. Doesn’t look like they need it.”
“Trust me. Jack will be over the moon to see you. He hasn’t stopped talking about you since we got here.”
She tried to hide a smirk.
“Listen, I’ve got to run. Make yourself at home.” I pointed to Jack’s bedroom. “That’s where Jack is sleeping. I’m sure he won’t mind if you take up residence there.”
She arched a sassy eyebrow at me. “He’s not getting that lucky.”
I raised my hands instantly. “What happens between y’all is between y’all.”
“He’s at Sour Mash, right?”
I nodded. “It’s just a few blocks down the street if you want to walk.”
“I might do that after I settle in.”
I told her I’d see her later, then left the hotel room, made my way down to the lobby, and caught a traditional cab to the marina.
I turned off my phone. Call me paranoid, but I didn’t want anyone tracking or tracing my movements.
The amber ball hovered over the horizon, sparkling the water as we pulled into the parking lot of the marina. Boats gently swayed in their slips, and seabirds hovered in the draft. I surveyed the parking lot before stepping out of the cab. The lot was half full with vehicles. I didn’t see anything unusual.
I paid the driver in cash, then stepped out of the car. The driver sped away.
My eyes scanned the lot for Nikki, but I didn’t see her. Maybe she was waiting for me on the boat.
45
Waves lapped against the hull of the Nauti-Gal. I ambled down the d
ock, scanning the area. I stepped through the boarding gate into the cockpit, then advanced to the sliding glass doors of the salon. My palm was placed firmly against the grip of my pistol.
The salon was empty.
With a gentle tug, I slid the door open. "Nikki? Bonnie?"
There was no reply.
I drew my pistol and advanced forward. Through the front windows, I could see the bow—it was empty. I hadn't seen anyone on the flybridge as I approached.
"Is anyone here?"
The boat creaked and groaned as it gently swayed.
I descended the steps, heading below deck. I poked my head into the companionway and surveyed both directions. I called out for Nikki and Bonnie again, but there was no response.
I inched forward and cautiously opened the hatch to the guest stateroom. The barrel of my pistol panned across the compartment. It was empty.
I pulled the hatch shut and continued aft to the master stateroom. I gripped the handle and twisted the hatch open, pushing into the compartment with my weapon ready to neutralize any threats.
Bonnie lay on the bed, pale and lifeless. From the bruising around her neck, it looked like she'd been strangled.
My heart sank, and a grimace tugged my face. I pushed into the compartment and checked for vitals, but I knew she was long gone. Her skin was cold to the touch.
By the time I turned back to the hatch, I was greeted by the daunting barrel of a black semi-automatic pistol, firmly gripped by Paxton’s sleazy hand. He had crept down the companionway while I was preoccupied with Bonnie's corpse.
"So glad you could join us, Deputy Wild," Paxton said. "Put your weapon on the deck and slide it toward me."
I complied.
His partner, Duke, hovered behind him.
Paxton kept his weapon aimed at me as he knelt down and picked up the gun.
"That gun is a loner, so if I could have it back at the end of this, I’d appreciate it."
Paxton chuckled. "You know, it's a shame. I kind of like you. You’re funny. But I think you've used up all your lives. Judging by the looks of you, Hector and his boys worked you over pretty good. But not good enough. I will have a long talk with Hector, believe me."