Death Perception

by Victoria Laurie

  ‘‘And?’’ I asked, hoping we’d have a lead on who our Jane Doe was.

  ‘‘We got bubkes,’’ Milo said. ‘‘She’s not in the database.’’

  ‘‘Crap,’’ I said. ‘‘Somehow I knew this wasn’t going to be easy.’’

  ‘‘It gets a little worse,’’ Milo said. ‘‘With this hanging over my head, I can’t make it out to Vegas and help you look for Dutch. The Feds pretty much told me to stay put or else.’’

  ‘‘Well, I wish you were here, Milo, but at least I’m not alone on this.’’

  ‘‘Don’t tell me. Candice flew out there and is helping you skirt the law.’’

  I smiled; Milo knew us too well. ‘‘Yep, and Cat’s here too.’’

  There was a wheezy sound on the other end that I knew was Milo’s laugh. ‘‘Got your hands full there, don’t you, Abby?’’

  ‘‘Desperate times call for desperate measures,’’ I said. ‘‘The Feds aren’t playing fair, so they’ve left me no choice but to call in the big guns.’’

  ‘‘The Feds are also really interested in finding you,’’ he whispered seriously. ‘‘So do me a favor—don’t contact me unless it is an absolute emergency. I wouldn’t put it past these guys to start tapping phones and listening in on my private conversations.’’

  ‘‘Right,’’ I said, looking around the area for any suspicious-looking black sedans. ‘‘On that note, maybe I should let you go.’’

  ‘‘Be safe, Abs,’’ Milo said. ‘‘And tell Candice that in return for putting her license at risk to help us find Dutch, any favor she needs from the Royal Oak PD, she’s got it.’’

  That comment got a smile out of me. Candice and Milo hadn’t exactly been best buds ever since they’d had themselves a little stare-down a few months back. ‘‘Will do, my friend. And thank you.’’

  I hung up with Milo and filled Cat and Candice in on the details of Milo’s suspension. ‘‘Robillard’s a hard-ass,’’ Candice said. ‘‘I’m really going to enjoy putting that son of a bitch behind bars.’’

  ‘‘Where are we going now?’’ Cat asked from the backseat.

  Before Candice could answer, my phone rang again. I answered it and heard another male ask, ‘‘Candy?’’

  I handed the phone over to Candice. ‘‘It’s for you,’’ I said.

  She took the phone and talked briefly to the caller, ending with, ‘‘Great, we’ll see you at the motel.’’

  ‘‘Who was that?’’ I asked when she gave me back the phone.

  ‘‘Wyatt,’’ she said. ‘‘He’s a forgery specialist.’’

  ‘‘Why are we meeting a forgery specialist?’’ Cat asked.

  ‘‘Because we need a specialist to forge up some ID for you two.’’

  Cat and I exchanged a look. ‘‘Why do we need fake IDs, exactly?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘Because this thing could get really bad, Abs. As in, we might all need to move to Kansas before it’s over.’’

  Cat laughed, thinking Candice was making light, but the chill up my spine and Candice’s set face suggested that she wasn’t kidding.

  * * *

  We drove along in silence for a while and I stared blankly out the side window, thinking of Dutch and praying I’d find him before time ran out. ‘‘Aw, shit!’’ Candice said suddenly.

  I snapped to attention and looked out the windshield, but I couldn’t see what was causing Candice to look so alarmed. ‘‘What is it?’’

  ‘‘Up ahead,’’ she said. ‘‘The car in front of us.’’

  ‘‘What about it?’’ Cat asked from the backseat.

  ‘‘Look at the tag,’’ Candice said. ‘‘It’s got federal plates. That’s the FBI, ladies.’’

  ‘‘No way!’’ I said, and ducked down low in my seat.

  Candice slowed subtly until she was passed by another car, putting us safely behind another vehicle. ‘‘Please do not tell me that they’re headed where I think they are,’’ she said out loud.

  But they were. We followed at a safe distance until the exit for our motel, and sure enough the black sedan with the federal plates pulled off and turned right at the bottom of the exit—which only had one thing in that direction, the Desert Springs Motel. Candice passed the exit and kept right on truckin’. ‘‘We are so screwed,’’ she said.

  My right side felt light and airy—my sign for You bet your tuchus.

  Chapter Ten

  The tension inside our car was palpable. Candice wore a look that could freeze lava. ‘‘I am going to kill that asshole,’’ she kept muttering. I glanced behind me to Cat, who seemed equally confused about who exactly ‘‘that asshole’’ was.

  For a long time no one but Candice spoke, and her conversation was definitely one-sided. ‘‘Of all the snarky, low-down, bullshit things to do!’’ she said, and slammed her hand on the steering wheel. ‘‘He’s dead,’’ she said, nodding her head vigorously as if agreeing with the conclusion. ‘‘D-E-A-D—dead!’’

  ‘‘Er... Candice?’’ I asked meekly.

  ‘‘I’m gonna kill him. And I’m gonna kill him slow,’’ she continued.

  ‘‘Yoo-hoo?’’ I said, waving my hand at her. ‘‘Sanity to Candice. Do you copy?’’

  But it was no use. She wouldn’t do anything other than curl herself forward, hovering menacingly over the steering wheel, as she wove in and out of traffic at ever increasing speeds.

  Cat sat back in her seat and closed her eyes while she whispered under her breath. It appeared she was praying and I thought that might be a great idea. I closed my eyes too, but pretty much all that was going through my head was ‘‘AHHHHHHHH!’’

  The car swerved sharply and I opened my eyes. Candice was exiting off the freeway, which was a relief until I noticed that she hadn’t decreased her speed very much. A few turns later I was starting to get carsick, and rolled down my window for some fresh air. ‘‘Candice!’’ I heard Cat yell from the backseat. ‘‘Look out!’’

  My eyes flashed forward and I noticed that we barely missed an eighteen-wheeler. ‘‘Please!’’ I said to her. ‘‘I’m begging you to slow down!’’ But she wasn’t listening. Nope, Uma was intent on killing Bill.

  Finally, just when I thought I might really lose my cookies, Candice squealed into a ratty-looking trailer park and zoomed to the end of the street, coming to a screeching halt in front of a blue and white trailer that had most definitely seen better days.

  Before I could even unbuckle my seat belt, Candice was out of the car and marching toward the front door. ‘‘Lenny!’’ she yelled loud enough to wake the dead.

  The front door opened and Candice’s ex strolled out onto the front step, beer in hand and wearing a big fat grin. ‘‘Honey,’’ he said cordially. ‘‘You didn’t think I’d let a prime money-making opportunity like that pass me by, did you? I mean, the Feds pay so much more than the local PD for a good bit of intel.’’

  In a move that stunned me with both its speed and ferocity, Candice grabbed Lenny by his shirt collar and yanked him forward while lifting one knee. Lenny bent double and let go of his beer as he got out a muffled, ‘‘Umph!’’

  Candice let go of him and stepped back. ‘‘Even when we were married, you were a snaky son of a bitch!’’ she yelled at him, right before she brought her elbow down into the middle of his back.

  ‘‘Oh, I’ve seen that move,’’ Cat said from the backseat. ‘‘The boys watch WWF wrestling every Saturday morning.’’

  ‘‘Do you think we should stop her?’’ I asked, watching Candice walk around Lenny and give him a solid kick in the ass.

  ‘‘You’re kidding me, right?’’ Cat asked seriously.

  I looked back at Candice and Lenny, who seemed to have recovered his senses enough to turn around, lie on his back, and try to fend off Candice by sticking his legs up in the air at her. ‘‘Yeah,’’ I said, realizing a Sherman tank might not be able to fend off my partner. ‘‘Better to let her tire herself out.’’

  About the time Candice w
as kicking Lenny’s butt to the curb, the front door to the trailer opened, and quick as a flash, a woman of about Candice’s height but with jet-black hair came up behind her and held a mean-looking knife under her chin. ‘‘Uh-oh,’’ Cat said. ‘‘Looks like Lenny’s got reinforcements.’’

  ‘‘Why, hello, Michelle,’’ Candice said coolly, holding her hands up in the air and not moving a muscle. ‘‘It’s been a while. Last time I saw you, you were riding my husband.’’

  ‘‘It has been a while,’’ said Michelle smoothly. ‘‘And I see you’ve gotten heavier with age.’’

  Candice laughed. ‘‘Muscle weighs more than fat, but I wouldn’t expect someone of your body mass index to know that.’’

  The brunette, who was quite striking, took hold of Candice’s hair and gave a tug back, exposing Candice’s throat to the knife. ‘‘It all bleeds the same, Candy,’’ Michelle said.

  Lenny got to his feet and said, ‘‘Hold her, babe. I’m going in to call the Feds.’’

  ‘‘Time for a rescue,’’ I said to Cat, and quickly pushed myself across the car to the driver’s seat. Starting the engine, I put the car in neutral, then gunned the engine. ‘‘Let her go!’’ I said two seconds before I punched the gas and the car shot forward.

  Lenny dived out of the way, pulling Michelle with him, and Candice spun in the other direction. I wheeled the car in a tight turn and skidded across the dirt, stopping only long enough for Candice to open the car door and throw herself inside. ‘‘Drive!’’ she yelled, and I hit the gas.

  Once we got back onto a main road, Candice said, ‘‘We’re gonna have to dump this car,’’ she said. ‘‘But first, we’ve got to warn Wyatt.’’

  ‘‘Ohmigod!’’ I said. ‘‘He’s on his way to the motel!’’

  ‘‘I know,’’ Candice said gravely. ‘‘Abby, pull over here and let me drive.’’

  We switched seats and got back on the highway. This time Candice was watching her speed and watching for cops. ‘‘Why did Lenny turn us over to the Feds?’’ Cat asked.

  Candice glanced at my sister in the rearview mirror. ‘‘ ’Cuz he sorta owed me one,’’ she admitted.

  ‘‘There’s a history here,’’ Cat said to me. ‘‘Spill it, Candice,’’ she insisted.

  Candice rubbed her neck and I saw a small red nick where the knife had pressed against her throat. ‘‘Like I said,’’ she began, ‘‘after I got fired as a showgirl, I needed a gig. Lenny was hiring, so I went to work for him, working the night surveillance shift.’’

  ‘‘Lenny was the PI you worked for?’’ I asked.

  Candice nodded. ‘‘Yep. And I was young and stupid. He seduced me, and I fell for it. I even married the asshole,’’ she said with a mirthless laugh. ‘‘And I ignored every sign I told the wives whose cases I worked not to shrug off. The late nights, the unexplained phone calls at all hours, the hang-ups I got whenever I answered the phone, his sudden interest in getting into shape. All of it I tossed off as coincidence. But one night the guy I was running surveillance on got pulled over and arrested for DUI. That freed up my evening and I went home to find that black-haired thing back there humping my husband.’’

  ‘‘What did you do?’’ Cat asked.

  The corner of Candice’s mouth lifted. ‘‘I called one of the bookies Lenny owed a big wad of cash to, and tipped him off. See, Lenny and I used to move around a lot, mostly because he liked to gamble, but he sucked at it.’’

  ‘‘What’d the bookie do when you told him where to find Lenny?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘Lenny spent a few weeks in the hospital. I hear he’s going to need a hip replacement one of these days.’’

  ‘‘Ouch,’’ I said.

  Candice shrugged. ‘‘Trust me, Abby, that slimeball had it coming. His affair wasn’t the only thing I ignored. Lenny was an opportunist in the worst way. He didn’t mind breaking the law if it suited his purposes, and the reason he needed me in the first place was because his license had been suspended so many times that the state had him on probation. In other words, if he got caught running surveillance in a restricted area or private property, he’d lose his license. If I got caught, I’d get a fine and a warning.’’

  ‘‘Let me guess,’’ I said. ‘‘Lenny never told you what would happen if you got caught.’’

  ‘‘Bingo,’’ Candice said as she pulled off the highway, and headed back to the warehouse district. We arrived in front of Fred’s not long afterward, and he let the garage up before we’d even gotten out of our car.

  After he’d let us in again, Candice apologized for bothering him twice in one day, and then explained about Lenny calling the Feds on us. ‘‘Shit, Candy!’’ Fred said. ‘‘You put Wyatt in the middle of a Fed raid?’’

  ‘‘I swear to God, Fred, I never meant to put Wyatt in a jam!’’ Candice insisted. ‘‘It was only luck that got us behind them on the way to the motel. Otherwise, I’d be in the back of a cop car right now.’’

  Fred waddled over to a phone at his desk, and after looking up a number, he jammed it into the phone and waited. ‘‘Wyatt?’’ he said as we all looked at him anxiously.

  I knew immediately that something was wrong, because Fred’s pink complexion turned ghostly pale before he slammed down the phone. ‘‘Shit, shit, shit!’’ he said.

  ‘‘What?’’ Candice said.

  ‘‘Who the hell is Abigail Cooper?’’ Fred demanded.

  Cat and Candice looked at me with wide eyes. ‘‘That would be me,’’ I said weakly.

  ‘‘That was the FBI, some guy named Robillard. He says he knows where you are and he’s coming to get you. You can expect the same fate as someone named Cynthia.’’

  I felt my own blood leave my face, and before I could even react, Candice was in motion. ‘‘What can I grab?’’ she asked Fred.

  ‘‘My computers!’’ Fred said as he turned to his desk and began unplugging things as quickly as his shaking fingers would let him.

  ‘‘Get to your car, Fred!’’ Candice said. ‘‘Take the freight elevator and go! We’ll be right behind you!’’

  Fred nodded and waddled in the direction of the freight elevator, breathing heavily. ‘‘Oh, God,’’ Cat said as she saw him shuffling. ‘‘I’ll help you get to your car, Fred!’’ she said.

  I went to Candice’s side as she grabbed the three lap-tops on the desk, handing one to me, and we were about to go when Fred said, ‘‘My book! Candy, grab that black book on the counter! And my notepad, grab that too!’’

  Candice handed the black book to me and she took the notepad and we dashed to the door and the spiral staircase. ‘‘Hurry!’’ Candice said. ‘‘Abby, we’ve got to move!’’

  I urged my feet to keep pace with my rapidly pounding heart as we charged down the stairs and through the garage. Fred was in his car with Cat at the wheel, his breathing labored and his complexion still very pale. ‘‘Here’s the key!’’ Cat said, handing the key to the lock on the front gate to me.

  ‘‘Follow us!’’ Candice ordered, and she and I ran full tilt toward the gate. It took me three tries to get the key into the lock; I was shaking so hard. In the distance I could hear sirens. ‘‘Take a deep breath,’’ Candice coaxed as my fingers overshot the lock for the second time. I inhaled and held my breath as I willed the key into the little hole. The lock came undone and I unhooked it from the chain. Behind us I could hear the creaking of the metal garage door as it ground down to close up the building. Candice and I opened the gate wide to let Cat and Fred through. Candice piled the computers into the backseat of Fred’s car and then she and I dashed to our rental car.

  The sirens were definitely closer as Candice started up the car. ‘‘Abby!’’ she said to me before I could click my seat belt. ‘‘Rechain the gate!’’

  ‘‘What?!’’ I said, my eyes wide with fright. ‘‘Why?’’

  ‘‘Because it will slow them down!’’ she insisted, and backed the car up to the edge of the gate. ‘‘Come on, do it!’’


  I jumped out of the car and ran to close the gate. I wound the chain around the two metal doors several times while I panted with the effort. ‘‘Come on!’’ Candice called as I notched the lock through the loops of the chain and clicked it closed.

  The sirens sounded far too close for my comfort as I dived back into Candice’s car and she hit the gas. Behind us I heard Fred’s car squeal after us and we zoomed down the street, taking a right turn, then a quick left, then another right so fast that I kept tilting wildly in my seat. ‘‘Jesus!’’ I exclaimed as I tried to brace myself with my feet and my hand on the dash.

  ‘‘She’s keeping pace!’’ Candice said as she glanced in the rearview mirror. I looked behind me. Cat’s face was pulled taut by the strain of focusing on keeping up with Candice, while Fred was leaning far back in his seat and appeared to be gasping for breath.

  As I looked at him, my radar started sounding the alarm. ‘‘Candice,’’ I said to her. ‘‘Fred needs to go to the hospital!’’

  Her eyes cut to mine as she raced down a long stretch of pavement, putting distance between us and the sirens. ‘‘What?’’ she said, and glanced again in the rearview.

  ‘‘I mean it!’’ I said. ‘‘Something’s wrong with him. We need to get him to the emergency room!’’

  Candice’s jaw clenched. ‘‘Okay.’’ She put on her blinker before pulling over to the side. ‘‘We can’t risk driving in this thing any longer anyway,’’ she said. ‘‘If I know Lenny, he’s given the make and model over to the Feds anyway.’’

  Candice and I hurried to pull our personal items out of the car and dash back to Cat, who was idling behind us. She got out as Candice approached the driver’s side and said, ‘‘Fred’s having trouble breathing. I think we need to take him to the emergency room!’’

  ‘‘That’s the plan, Cat,’’ Candice said as she hopped into the front seat while Cat and I moved the computers over and got into the back. ‘‘How you doin’, old man?’’ Candice asked as she put the car into drive and peeled away from the curb.