A  T R A C E  O F  H O P E
A KERI LOCKE MYSTERY - BOOK 5
CHAPTER ONE
When Detective Keri Locke opened her eyes,
she immediately knew something was off. First
of all, she didn’t feel as if she had been
asleep for long. Her heart was racing and
she felt clammy all over. It was more like
she’d passed out than been sleeping for
a long time.
Second, she wasn’t in bed. Instead, she
was flat on her back on the couch in her apartment
living room and Detective Ray Sands, her partner
and, as of late, her boyfriend, was leaning
over her with a concerned expression on his
face.
She tried to speak, to ask him what was wrong,
but her mouth was dry and nothing came out
but a hoarse crack. She couldn’t remember
how she got here or what had happened before
she lost consciousness. But it must have been
something huge for her to react that way.
She saw in Ray’s eyes that he wasn’t sure
what to say. That wasn’t like him. He wasn’t
one to beat around the bush. A six-foot-four
African-American LAPD cop and former professional
boxer who’d lost his left eye in a fight,
he was direct in almost everything he did.
Keri tried to push up on her arms to get to
a more elevated position but Ray stopped her,
gently resting a hand on her shoulder and
shaking his head.
“Give yourself a moment,” he said. “You
still look a little unsteady.”
“How long was I out?” Keri croaked.
“Not quite a minute,” he answered.
“Why was I out?” she asked.
Ray’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth
to reply but stopped, clearly at a loss.
“What is it?”
“You don’t remember?” he asked incredulously.
Keri shook her head. She thought she heard
a buzzing in her ears but then realized that
it was another voice. She glanced over to
the coffee table and saw her phone resting
there. It was on and someone was speaking.
“Who’s on the phone?” she asked.
“Oh, you dropped it when you collapsed and
I put it there until I could revive you.”
“Who is it?” Keri asked again, noting
that he had avoided her question.
“It’s Susan,” he said reluctantly. “Susan
Granger.”
Susan Granger was a fifteen-year-old prostitute
whom Keri had rescued from her pimp last year
and gotten placed in a girls’ home. Since
then, the two had become close, with Keri
acting as a kind of mentor for the damaged
but spirited young girl.
“Why is Susan calli—?”
And then the memory hit her like a wave crashing
down on her entire body. Susan had called
to tell Keri that her own daughter, Evie,
who had been abducted six years ago, was to
be the central participant in a grotesque
ceremony.
Susan had learned that tomorrow night at a
house somewhere in the Hollywood Hills, Evie
was going to be auctioned off to the highest
bidder, who would be allowed to have his way
with her sexually before killing her in some
sort of ritualistic sacrifice.
That’s why I passed out.
“Hand me the phone,” she ordered Ray.
“I’m not sure you’re up for this yet,”
he said, obviously sensing that she could
now remember everything.
“Give me the goddamn phone, Ray.”
He handed it over without another word.
“Susan, are you still there?” she said.
“What happened?” Susan demanded, her voice
borderline panicky. “One minute you were
there and then nothing. I could hear something
happening but you didn’t answer.”
“I passed out,” Keri admitted. “It took
me a moment to regroup.”
“Oh,” Susan said quietly. “I’m sorry
I did that to you.”
“It’s not your fault, Susan. I was just
taken by surprise. It’s a lot to process
at once, especially when I’m not feeling
a hundred percent.”
“How are you doing?” Susan asked, the
concern in her voice almost palpable.
She was referring to Keri’s injuries, sustained
in a life-and-death fight with a child abductor
only two days ago. She had only been released
from the hospital yesterday morning.
The doctors had determined that the bruises
on her face, where the abductor had punched
her twice, along with a badly bruised chest
and swollen knee, weren’t enough to keep
her another day.
The abductor, a deranged zealot named Jason
Petrossian, had gotten the worst of it. He
was still hospitalized under armed guard.
The girl he’d kidnapped, twelve-year-old
Jessica Rainey, was recovering at home with
her family.
“I’ll be okay,” Keri said reassuringly.
“Just some bumps and bruises. I’m glad
you called, Susan. No matter how bad the news,
knowing this is better than not knowing. Now
I can try to do something about it.”
“What can you do, Detective Locke?” Susan
said, her voice rising as the words tumbled
out of her. “Like I said, I know Evie is
the Blood Prize at the Vista. But I don’t
where it’s happening.”
“Slow down, Susan,” Keri said firmly as
she pulled herself to a sitting position.
Her head felt a little dizzy and she didn’t
protest as Ray put a steadying hand on her
back as he sat down beside her on the couch.
“We’ll figure out how to find her. But
first I need you to tell me everything you
know about this whole Vista thing. Don’t
worry about repeating yourself. I want every
detail you can recall.”
“Are you sure?” Susan asked hesitantly.
“Don’t worry. I’m okay now. I just needed
a moment to take all this in. But I’m a
Missing Persons detective. This is what I
do. Just because I’m looking for my own
daughter doesn’t change the job. So tell
me everything.”
She pushed the speakerphone button so Ray
could listen too.
“Okay,” Susan said. “As I told you before,
there’s a club of rich johns who have pop-up
sex parties in the Hollywood Hills. They call
them Hill House Parties. The house is filled
with girls, almost all underage prostitutes
like I was. They usually have them every few
months and most of the time, they only give
a few hours’ notice, usually via text. Am
I making sense?”
“Absolutely,” Keri said. “I remember
you telling me about this. So remind me about
the Vista event.”
“The Vista is like their biggest party of
all. It only happens once a year and no one
knows when. They like to give a little more
notice for that one because no one wants to
miss it. That’s probably why my friend heard
about it already even though it’s not until
tomorrow night.”
“And the Vista is different from the other
Hill House Parties, right?” Keri prodded,
knowing Susan was reluctant to revisit the
particulars and giving her permission to do
it.
“Yeah. At all the other parties, the john
pays for whatever girl he likes and just does
whatever he wants with her. Guys can be with
anyone they want and a girl can be used all
night by anyone. But the Vista is different.
On that night the organizers pick one girl—she’s
usually special in some way—and make her
the Blood Prize.”
She stopped talking and Keri could sense she
didn’t want to continue, didn’t want to
hurt the woman who’d rescued her and helped
her see a future for herself.
“It’s okay, Susan,” Keri insisted. “Go
on. I need to know everything.”
She heard the girl give a deep sigh on the
other end of the line before continuing.
“So the event starts around nine at night.
For a while it’s just like a regular Hill
House party. But then they bring in the girl
who has been chosen as the Blood Prize. Like
I said, there’s usually something different
about her. Maybe she’s a virgin. Maybe she
was just abducted that day so she’s been
on the news. Once it was former child star
who got hooked on drugs and ended up on the
streets.”
“And this year it’s Evie,” Keri prodded.
“Yeah, there’s a girl named Lupita from
my hooking days in Venice who I keep in touch
with. She still works the streets and she
overheard some guys talking about how they
were using the lady cop’s daughter this
year. They’re using the nickname ‘mini-pig’
to describe her.”
“Very creative,” Keri muttered bitterly.
“And you said they picked her because I’m
getting too close?”
“Right,” Susan confirmed. “The powers
that be were tired of moving her around. They
said she’s become a liability with you constantly
on the hunt for her. They just want to finish
her off and dump her body somewhere, so you
know she’s dead and will stop looking. I’m
so sorry, Detective.”
“Go on,” Keri said. Her body was numb
and her voice sounded like it was coming from
somewhere far away, outside of herself.
“So it’s basically an auction. All the
big spenders will bid on her. Sometimes it
gets into the hundreds of thousands. These
guys are competitive. Plus there’s the fact
that by punishing her, it’s like they’re
reaching out and hurting you. I’m sure that’ll
up the cost. And I think they’re all turned
on by how it ends.”
“Remind me of that part,” Keri asked,
closing her eyes in preparation. She sensed
Susan’s hesitation but didn’t press, letting
the girl gather herself to say what had to
be said. Ray edged a little closer to her
on the couch and moved his arm from her back,
wrapping it around her shoulder.
“Whoever wins the auction is taken to a
separate room while the Blood Prize is prepared.
She’s bathed and put in a fancy dress. Someone
does her makeup, movie-star style. Then she’s
taken to a room where the guy gets to have
his way with her. The only rule is he can’t
hurt her face.”
Keri noticed that Susan’s voice had grown
hard, as if she was turning off the part of
herself that felt emotion so she could get
through this. Keri didn’t blame her. The
girl went on.
“I mean, he can do things to her, you know.
He just can’t hit her or slap her above
the neck. She’s got to look right for the
big event later. They don’t mind if her
mascara is streaky because she’s been crying.
That adds to the drama. Just no bruises.”
“What happens next?”
“The guy has to be finished a little bit
before midnight because that’s when the
final sacrifice happens. They put her in a
fresh dress and strap her down so she can’t
move too much. She can wriggle a little. They
like that. But not too much.”
Despite her eyes being closed, Keri sensed
Ray stiffening beside her. He seemed to be
holding his breath. She realized she was doing
the same thing and forced herself to exhale
when she heard Susan pause to swallow.
“The guy puts on a black robe and a hood
to hide his identity,” she continued. “That’s
because the thing is shown on TV in the main
room where everyone else is. I think it’s
recorded too. Obviously none of these guys
want video evidence of them murdering a teenage
girl.
“When they’re both prepped, the guy comes
in and stands behind her. He delivers some
prepared line, I don’t know what. Then he’s
handed a knife and, right at the stroke of
midnight, he slits her throat. She dies, right
there on camera. Everybody recites something.
Then they turn the TV off and the party resumes.
That’s pretty much it.”
Keri finally opened her eyes. She felt a tear
trickle down her cheek but refused to wipe
it away. She liked the way it almost burned
her skin, like a wet flame.
As long as she could keep that flame of righteous
fury alive in her heart, she was sure she
could keep Evie alive too.
CHAPTER TWO
For a long time, no one spoke. Keri didn’t
think she could. Instead, she let the rising
tide of rage fill her up, making her blood
boil and her fingers tingle.
Finally Ray cleared his throat.
“Susan, this is Detective Locke’s partner,
Ray Sands. Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, Detective.”
“How do you know all this? I mean, were
you at one of these parties?”
“Like I told Detective Locke, I was taken
to a Hill House Party once when I was about
eleven. I was never brought back but I know
girls who have been. One of my friends was
taken twice. And you can imagine how word
spreads. Any girl who’s been in the life
in LA knows all the details about the Vista.
It’s become almost an urban legend. Pimps
sometimes use it to keep their girls in line.
‘Talk back and you might be the Blood Prize
this year.’ Only this legend is actually
true.”
Something in Susan’s tone—the mix of fear
and sadness—snapped Keri out of her silence.
This young girl had made so much progress
in recent months. But Keri feared that asking
her to return, even just in memory, to the
dark place she’d inhabited for years was
unfair and cruel. Susan had shared everything
she could, at the cost of her own emotional
well-being. It was time to let her try to
be a kid again.
The adults had to take over now.
“Susan,” she said, “thank you so much
for telling me all this. I know it wasn’t
easy for you. With the information you’ve
given us, I think we’ve got a great start
at finding Evie. I don’t want you to worry
about this anymore, okay?”
“I could check around some more,” the
girl insisted.
“No. You’ve done enough. It’s time to
get back to your new life. I promise to check
in with you. But for now I need you to focus
on schoolwork. Maybe read a new Nancy Drew
book we can talk about next week. We’ve
got it from here, kiddo.”
They said goodbye and Keri hung up. She looked
over at Ray.
“You think we’ve got a great start at
finding Evie?” he asked skeptically.
“No, but I couldn’t tell her that. Besides,
it may not be great. But it’s a start.”
*
Keri and Ray sat in Ronnie’s Diner, both
lost in thought. The morning rush at the nondescript
joint in Marina del Rey had ended and most
of the customers in the place were enjoying
a leisurely breakfast.
Ray had insisted they leave the apartment
and Keri had agreed. She had dressed more
casually than usual, in a long-sleeved shirt
and faded jeans, with a light jacket to protect
against the crisp January morning.
She wore a baseball cap, pulled down low over
the top half of her face. She let her dirty-blonde
hair, normally pulled back in a professional
ponytail, intentionally hang loose to swallow
her face and hide the bruises she knew would
make others stare.
She hunched down in their booth as she sipped
coffee, further hiding her already modest
frame. Keri, almost thirty-six years old,
was an unimposing five foot six. Recently,
she’d taken to wearing more form-fitting
attire, as she’d cut down on the drinking
and gotten back into solid shape. But not
today. This morning, she was hoping to go
unnoticed.
It was nice just to get out after two days
of doctor-ordered bed rest. But Keri was also
hoping that a change of scenery would give
her a fresh perspective on how to find Evie.
And it had worked to some degree.
By the time their food arrived they’d agreed
not to formally involve their team, the Missing
Persons Unit of LAPD’s West Los Angeles
Pacific Division, in the search. The unit
had been helping Keri look for her daughter
on and off for years, to no avail. There was
no reason to assume the outcome would be any
different without new evidence to go on.
But there was another reason to keep a low
profile. This was truly Keri’s last chance
to find her daughter. She knew the exact time
that Evie would be in a certain part of LA—the
Hollywood Hills at midnight tomorrow—even
if she didn’t have the specific location
yet.
But if the team started poking around and
word got out that they knew about the Vista
event, the people who had Evie might cancel
the event or just kill her early to avoid
complications. Keri needed to keep things
quiet.
Unspoken but understood between the partners
and new couple was another wrinkle. They couldn’t
be sure they weren’t being monitored by
the person they most needed to keep in the
dark—Jackson Cave.
Last year Keri had taken down a serial child
abductor named Alan Jack Pachanga, ultimately
killing him while rescuing a teenage girl.
And while Pachanga was no longer a problem,
his lawyer was.
Jackson Cave, the man’s attorney, was a
big-time corporate lawyer with a fancy downtown
high-rise office. But he had also made something
of a career of representing the dregs of society.
He seemed to have a particular affinity for
child predators. He claimed much of it was
pro bono work and that even the worst among
us deserved quality representation.
But Keri had uncovered information that seemed
to link him to a vast network of child abductors,
a network she suspected he was profiting from
and helping to direct. One of the abductors
in the network was a man who went by the title
of the Collector.
Last fall, when Keri learned that the Collector
was Evie’s abductor, she lured him into
a meeting. But the Collector, whose real name
was Brian Wickwire, discovered her ruse and
attacked her. She ended up killing him in
their fight, but not before he swore she would
never find Evie.
 Unfortunately, she had no evidence that
could prove Jackson Cave’s connection to
the man who’d taken her daughter or the
larger network he seemed to run. At least
none that she’d obtained legally.
In desperation, she’d once broken into his
office and found a coded file that had proven
helpful. But the fact that she’d stolen
it made it inadmissible in court. Besides
that, the connections between Cave and the
network were so well-hidden and tenuous that
proving his involvement would be nearly impossible.
He hadn’t reached his position of power
atop the Los Angeles legal world by being
sloppy or careless.
She even tried to convince her ex-husband,
Stephen, a wealthy Hollywood talent agent,
to help pay for a private investigator to
follow Cave. A good investigator was well
beyond her means alone. But Stephen refused,
essentially saying he thought Evie was dead
and Keri was delusional.
Of course Jackson Cave had no such financial
limitations. And once he realized that Keri
was on to him, he started having her surveilled.
Both she and Ray had found bugs in their homes
and cars. Each of them now did regular bug
sweeps of everything from their clothes to
their phones to their shoes before discussing
anything sensitive. They also suspected even
their LAPD office was monitored and acted
accordingly.
That’s why they sat in a loud diner, wearing
clothes they’d swept for recording devices,
making sure no one at nearby tables seemed
to be listening in, as they formulated their
plan. If there was one person they didn’t
want to know they were aware of Vista, it
was Jackson Cave.
In her multiple verbal confrontations with
him, it had become clear to Keri that something
had changed in Cave. He may have originally
viewed her as merely a threat to his business,
another obstacle to overcome. But no longer.
After all, she’d killed two of his biggest
earners, stolen files from his office, cracked
codes, and put his business, and perhaps his
freedom, at risk. Of course, she was doing
it all to find her daughter.
But she sensed that Cave had come to see her
as more than merely an opponent, some chick
cop desperate to find her kid. He seemed to
consider her almost as his nemesis, as some
sort of mortal enemy. He didn’t just want
to defeat her anymore. He wanted to destroy
her.
Keri was sure that was why Evie was to be
the Blood Prize at the Vista. She doubted
that Cave knew where Evie was being held or
who was holding her. But he surely knew the
people who knew the people who knew those
things. And he had almost certainly instructed,
at least indirectly, that Evie be the sacrifice
at tomorrow’s party as a way to break Keri
beyond repair.
There was no point in tailing him or formally
interrogating him. He was far too clever and
careful to make any mistakes, especially since
he knew she was on to him. But he was behind
all of it—of that Keri was certain. She’d
just have to find another way to solve this.
With a renewed sense of resolve she looked
up to find that Ray was watching her closely.
“How long have you been staring at me?”
she asked.
“A couple of minutes, at least. I didn’t
want to interrupt. You looked like you were
doing some seriously deep thinking. Have any
epiphanies?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “We both
know who’s behind this but I don’t think
that helps us much. I need to start fresh
and hope to track down some new leads.”
“You mean ‘we,’ right?” Ray said.
“Don’t you have to go in to work today?
You’ve been off for a while taking care
of me.”
“You’ve got to be kidding, Tinker Bell,”
he said with a smile, alluding to their massive
size disparity. “You think I’m just going
to go into the office with everything going
on? I’ll use every sick, personal, and vacation
day I have if it comes to that.”
Keri felt her entire chest warm over with
delight but tried to hide it.
“I appreciate that, Godzilla,” she said.
“But with me still being on suspension because
of the IA investigation, we might need you
to take advantage of some of those official
police resources you have access to.”
Keri was technically on suspension while Internal
Affairs investigated the circumstances surrounding
her killing of Brian “The Collector” Wickwire.
Their supervisor, Lieutenant Cole Hillman,
had indicated that it would likely be wrapped
up soon in her favor. But until then, Keri
had no badge, no department-issued weapon,
no formal authority, and no access to police
resources.
“Was there something particular you thought
I should be looking into?” Ray asked.
“Actually, yes. Susan mentioned that one
of the past Blood Prize girls was a former
child actress who became an addict and ended
up on the streets. If she was raped and murdered,
especially by having her throat slit, there
should be a record of it, right? I don’t
remember it being on the news but maybe I
missed it. If you could track that down, maybe
the forensic workup included DNA from the
semen of the man who assaulted her.”
 “It’s possible no one ever thought to
even check for DNA,” Ray added. “If they
found this girl dead with her throat cut,
they might not have felt the need to do anything
further. If we can figure out who she was,
maybe we can have more testing done, put a
rush on it and ID who she was with.”
“Exactly,” Keri agreed. “Just remember
to be discreet. Involve as few people as possible.
We don’t know how many ears our lawyer friend
has in the building.”
“Understood. So what do you plan to do while
I pore over old records of murdered teenage
girls?”
“I’m going to interview a possible witness.”
“Who’s that?” Ray asked.
“Susan’s prostitute friend, Lupita—the
one who said she overheard those guys talking
about the Vista. Maybe she’ll remember more
with a little help.”
“Okay, Keri, but remember to go a little
easy. That area of Venice is rough and you’re
still not at full strength. Besides, at least
for now, you’re not even a cop.”
“Thanks for the concern, Ray. But I think
you know by now. Going easy just isn’t my
style.”
CHAPTER THREE
As Keri pulled up in front of the Venice address
Susan had texted her, she forced herself to
forget about the lingering pain in her chest
and knee. She was entering potentially dangerous
territory. And since she was not officially
on the job right now, she had to be on extra
high alert. No one here would give her the
benefit of the doubt.
It was only mid-morning and as she crossed
Pacific Avenuein this seedy stretch of Venice,
her only company was tattooed surfers, oblivious
to the cold and headed to the ocean just a
block away, and homeless men huddled in the
doorways of not-yet-open businesses.
She arrived at the rundown apartment complex,
walked through the open front door, and walked
up three flights of stairs to the room where
Lupita was supposedly expecting her. Business
didn’t usually pick up until after lunch
so this was a good time to stop by.
Keri approached the door and was about to
knock when she heard noise from inside. She
checked and found the door unlocked and quietly
opened it, peeking her head in.
On the bed in the unadorned room was a brunette
girl who looked to be about fifteen. On top
of her was a naked, wiry man in his thirties.
Covers hid the particulars, but he was thrusting
down aggressively. Every few seconds he would
slap the girl in the face.
Keri fought the strong urge to march in and
rip the guy off her. Even without the badge,
it was her natural inclination. But she had
no idea if this was a john and the activity
taking place was standard operating procedure.
Sad experience had taught her that sometimes
coming to the rescue was counterproductive
in the long run. If this was a client and
Keri interrupted, the guy might get upset
and complain to Lupita’s pimp, who would
take it out on her. Unless a girl was willing
to leave the life for good, as Susan Granger
had, stepping in, while following the law,
might only make things worse for her in the
big picture.
Keri stepped into the room a bit more and
caught Lupita’s eye. The frail-looking girl
with curly dark hair gave her a familiar look,
a mix of pleading, fear, and wariness. Keri
knew almost immediately what it meant. She
needed help but not too much help.
This clearly was a john, maybe a new, unexpected
last-minute one, because he was here when
Lupita had agreed to meet Keri. But she’d
been told to service him anyway. It was likely
that the slapping was unexpected. But she
wasn’t in a position to object in case her
pimp had given permission.
Keri knew how to handle it. She stepped forward
quickly and quietly, pulling a rubber baton
from the inside pocket of her jacket. Lupita’s
eyes got big and Keri could tell the john
had noticed. He was just starting to turn
his head to look behind him when the baton
connected with the rear of his skull. He fell
forward, collapsing on top of the girl, unconscious.
Keri held her finger to her lips, indicating
for Lupita to stay quiet. She stepped around
to the side of the bed to make sure the john
really was out cold. He was.
“Lupita?” she asked.
The girl nodded.
“I’m Detective Locke,” she said, neglecting
to say that for now, she wasn’t technically
a detective. “Don’t worry. If we’re
quick, this doesn’t have to be a problem.
When your pimp asks, here’s what happened:
a short guy in a masked hood came in, knocked
out your john, and stole his wallet. You never
saw his face. He threatened to kill you if
you made a sound. When I leave this room,
you count to twenty, then start screaming
for help. There’s no way you can be blamed.
Got it?”
Lupita nodded again.
“Okay,” Keri said as she rifled through
the man’s jeans and pulled out his wallet.
“I don’t think he’ll be out more than
a minute or two so let’s cut to the chase.
Susan said you overheard some guys talking
about the Vista happening tomorrow night.
Do you know who was talking? Was one of them
your pimp?”
“Uh-uh,” Lupita whispered. “I didn’t
recognize the voices. And when I looked out
in the hall they were gone.”
“That’s okay. Susan told me what they
said about my daughter. What I want you to
focus on is the location. I know they always
hold this Vista thing in the Hollywood Hills.
But were they any more specific than that?
Did they mention a street? Any landmarks?”
“They didn’t mention a street. But one
of them was complaining that it was going
to be more of a hassle than last year because
it was gated. In fact, he said ‘the estate
is gated.’ So I’m assuming it’s more
than just a house.”
“That’s really helpful, Lupita. Anything
else?”
“One of them said he was bummed because
they wouldn’t be close enough to see the
Hollywood sign. I guess last year, the house
was right near it. But this time they’ll
be too far away, in a different area. Does
that help?”
“Actually it does. That means it’s probably
closer to West Hollywood. It narrows it down.
That’s really helpful. Anything more?”
The man on top of her groaned softly and started
to stir.
“I can’t think of anything,” Lupita
muttered, barely audible.
“That’s all right. This is more than I
had before. You’ve been a big help. And
if you ever decide you want to get out of
the life, you can reach out to me through
Susan.”
Lupita, despite her situation, smiled. Keri
took off her cap, pulled a black hood out
from her pocket, and put it on. It had small
slits for her eyes and mouth.
“Now remember,” she said in a deep voice
intended to hide her own, “wait twenty seconds
or I’ll kill you.”
The man on top of Lupita was coming to, so
Keri turned and hurried out of the room. She
rushed down the hall and was halfway down
the stairs when she heard the screams for
help. She ignored them and made her way to
the front door, where she pulled off the hood,
stuffed it back in her pocket, and put on
her cap.
She rifled through the guy’s wallet, and,
after taking out the cash—all of twenty-three
dollars—she tossed it in the corner by the
door. As casually as possible, she walked
back across the street to her car. As she
got in, she could hear the shouts of angry
men, headed toward Lupita’s room.
When she was clear of the area, she called
Ray to see if he’d had any luck with his
lead. He picked up after one ring and she
could tell from his voice that it hadn’t
gone well.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“It’s a dead end, Keri. I’ve gone back
ten years and can’t find any record of a
former child star who was found with her throat
slit. I did find a record of a former child
actress named Carly Rose who fell on hard
times and went missing as a teen. She’d
be about twenty now. It could easily be her.
Or she could have just overdosed in a subway
tunnel and never been found. Hard to know.
I also found records of other girls between
eleven and fourteen who meet a similar description—throats
slit. Bodies just left in dumps or even on
street corners. But usually they’re girls
who were on the streets for a while. And they’re
really spread out over time.”
“That actually makes sense to me,” Keri
said. “These people probably had no compunction
about dumping the bodies of girls who worked
the streets or had no family. But they wouldn’t
want to draw attention by leaving the bodies
of girls from good homes who were recently
abducted or a girl who was well known. Those
might initiate real investigations. I bet
those girls were burned, buried, or dumped
in the ocean. It’s the ones no one would
follow up on that they just dumped anywhere.”
Keri chose to ignore the fact that she’d
said all of that so matter-of-factly. If she
lingered on it, she’d be bothered by how
inured she’d become to these kinds of atrocities.
“That fits,” Ray agreed, sounding equally
unfazed. “It might also explain the gap
in years. If they used a street prostitute
one year, then used a few kidnapped suburban
kids before returning to another teen hooker,
it would be harder to establish a pattern.
I mean, if a teen hooker showed up once a
year with her throat slit, that might generate
interest too.”
“Good point,” Keri said. “So there wasn’t
anything to go on then.”
“Nah. Sorry. You have better luck?”
“A little,” she said. “Based on what
Lupita said, it sounds like the location may
be in West Hollywood, on a gated estate.”
“That’s promising,” Ray noted.
“I guess. There are a thousand of those
up in those hills.”
“We can have Edgerton cross-reference them
to see if the property titles match up to
anyone we know. With dummy companies, it’s
probably a long shot. But you never know what
that guy will come up with.”
It was true. Detective Kevin Edgerton was
a genius when it came to anything tech. If
anyone could suss out a meaningful connection,
it was him.
“Okay, let him have at it,” Keri said.
“But have him do it under the radar. And
don’t give him too many details. The fewer
people who know what’s going on, the less
chance someone inadvertently leaks something
that tips off the wrong people.”
“Understood. What are you going to do?”
Keri thought for a moment and realized she
didn’t have any new leads to follow up.
That meant she had to do what she always did
when she hit a brick wall—start fresh. And
there was one person she realized she definitely
needed a fresh start with.
“Actually,” she said, “can you ask Castillo
to call me, but have her do it outside, using
her cell?”
“Okay. What are you thinking?” Ray asked.
“I’m thinking it’s about time I reacquainted
myself with an old friend.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Keri waited anxiously in her car, eyeing the
clock as she sat outside the offices of Weekly
L.A., the alternative newspaper where she
had asked Officer Jamie Castillo to meet her.
It was also where her friend, Margaret “Mags”
Merrywether, worked as a columnist.
Time was starting to run short. It was already
12:30 on Friday, roughly thirty-six hours
from when her daughter was going to be raped
and ritualistically murdered for the pleasure
of a group of wealthy soul-sick men.
Keri saw Jamie walking down the street and
shook the dark thoughts from her head. She
needed to stay focused on how to prevent her
daughter’s death, not obsess on the awfulness
of how it might unfold.
As she had requested, Jamie was wearing a
civilian coat over her uniform to draw less
notice. Keri waved at her from the driver’s
seat, getting her attention. Jamie smiled
and headed for the car, her dark hair blowing
in the bitter wind despite being pulled back
in a ponytail. She was taller than Keri by
a few inches and more athletic too. She was
a Parkour enthusiast and Keri had seen what
she could do under duress.
Officer Jamila Cassandra Castillo wasn’t
yet a detective. But Keri was sure that once
she made it, she’d be a great. In addition
to her physical skills, she was tough, smart,
relentless, and loyal. She’d already put
her own safety and even her job on the line
for Keri. If she wasn’t already partners
with Ray, Keri knew who her next choice would
have been.
Jamie got in the car gingerly, wincing involuntarily,
and Keri remembered why. While on the hunt
for the suspect who gave Keri her current
injuries, Jamie had been in the proximity
of a bomb that went off at the guy’s apartment.
It had killed one FBI agent, badly burned
another, and left Ray with a chunk of glass
in his right leg, something he hadn’t mentioned
since. Jamie had ended up with a concussion
and some serious bruises.
“Weren’t you just released from the hospital
today?” Keri asked, incredulous.
“Yep,” she said with pride in her voice.
“They let me go this morning. I went home,
changed into my uniform, and made it in to
work ten minutes late. Lieutenant Hillman
cut me some slack though.”
“How are your ears?” Keri asked, referring
to the hearing loss Jamie had suffered in
the moments after the bomb blast.
“I can hear you fine right now. I get some
intermittent ringing. The doctor says that
should go away in a week or two. No permanent
damage.”
“I can’t believe you’re working today,”
Keri muttered, shaking her head. “And I
can’t believe I’m asking you to go above
and beyond on your first day back.”
“It’s no problem,” Jamie assured her.
“I needed to get out for a bit. Everyone
was treating me like a porcelain doll. But
I do have to get right back or I’d hang
out. I brought what you asked for, though.”
She pulled a file out of her bag and handed
it to Keri.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. And before you ask, I used
the ‘general’ username ID when I searched
the database, so it won’t be tracked to
me. I assume there’s a reason you didn’t
want me using my own ID. And I further assume
there’s a reason you didn’t volunteer
anything about why you asked for this stuff?”
“You assume correctly,” Keri said, hoping
Jamie would leave it at that.
“And I assume you’re not going to tell
me what’s going on or let me help in any
way?”
“It’s for your own good, Jamie. The less
you know the better. And the less anyone knows
you helped me, the better for what I’m doing.”
“Okay. I trust you. But if you find that
at some point down the road you do need help,
you have my number.”
“I do,” Keri said, giving Castillo’s
hand a squeeze.
She waited until the officer had returned
to her car and pulled out into the street
before getting out of her own. Gripping the
file Castillo had given her tightly to her
body, Keri hurried up the steps and into the
Weekly L.A. building, where Mags, and hopefully
some answers, were waiting for her.
*
Two hours later, there was a knock on the
door of the conference room where Keri had
set up shop and had been poring over documents.
The large table in the center of the room
was covered in papers.
“Who is it?” she asked. The door opened
slightly. It was Mags.
“Just checking in,” she said. “I wanted
to see if you could use any help, darling.”
“Actually, I could use a little break. Come
on in.”
Mags stepped inside, shut and locked the door
behind her, made sure the blinds were still
fully closed so no one could see in, and walked
over. Once again, Keri marveled at how she
had become friends with what was essentially
the live-action version of Jessica Rabbit.
Margaret Merrywether was over six feet tall,
even without the high heels she usually wore.
Statuesque, with milky-white skin, ample curves,
flaming red hair matched by her ruby red lips,
and bright green eyes, she seemed like she’d
stepped out of the pages of a high-fashion
magazine for Amazon women.
And that was all before she opened her mouth
to reveal an accent that suggested Scarlett
O’Hara, only slightly undercut by a tart
tongue that was more Rosalind Russell in His
Girl Friday. Only that mildly biting tone
hinted at Margaret’s (Mags to her friends)
alter ego. It turned out she also went by
the pseudonym “Mary Brady,” the alternative
paper’s muckraking columnist who had brought
down local politicians, uncovered corporate
malfeasance, and called out dirty cops.
Mags was also a happily divorced mother of
two, made even wealthier after she parted
ways from her banker ex-husband. Keri had
met her while working a case and after some
initial suspicion that her whole persona was
some elaborate form of performance art, a
friendship had blossomed. Keri, who didn’t
have many friends outside of work, was happy
to be the boring one for once.
Mags sat down in the seat beside Keri and
looked at the collage of police documents
and newspaper clippings spread out on the
table.
“So, my dear, you asked me to collect copies
of every article the paper had ever written
on Jackson Cave. And I see that you asked
someone in the department to do the same with
everything they have on him. Then you locked
yourself in here for two hours. Are you ready
to tell me what’s going on?”
“I am,” Keri said. “Just give me a moment
first.”
She got up, pulled a bug detector out of her
bag, and proceeded to sweep the entire conference
room. Mags raised her eyebrows but didn’t
seem stunned.
“You know, darling,” she began, “I’m
hardly one to tell you you’re being overcautious.
But I have this sort of thing done professionally
twice a week.”
“I have no doubt,” Keri said. “But thanks
for humoring me. This was given to me by a
techie friend I trust.”
“Someone in the department?” Mags asked.
“No, he’s actually a mall security guard.
It’s a long story but let’s just say the
guy knows his stuff and he owed me a favor,
so when I asked for a recommendation for a
good bug detector, he gave me this as a gift.”
“That sounds like a long story I might like
to hear when we have a bit more time,” Mags
said.
Keri nodded absentmindedly as she continued
to sweep the room. Mags smiled and waited
patiently. When Keri was done and found nothing,
she sat back down.
“Okay, here it is,” she said and launched
into her history with Cave, much of which
Mags was already familiar with.
In fact, her friend had even recently helped
her lure out information from an assassin-for-hire
with a connection to Cave. He was a man known
only as the Black Widower, a mystery figure
who drove a black Lincoln Continental without
plates.
Months earlier, Keri had watched on security
camera footage as he casually killed the man
who’d been holding Evie, shoved Evie into
his trunk, and disappeared with her into the
night, all, Keri suspected, on the orders
of Cave.
Somehow, Mags had managed find a way to anonymously
reach out to the Black Widower. It turned
out that he was happy to pass on a lead about
Evie’s whereabouts for a hefty price. He
seemed to have no loyalties, which worked
out well for Keri in that instance because
his information ultimately led to her learning
of the existence of the Vista event.
But while some of the particulars, like the
Black Widower connection, were old news to
her, Mags said nothing. She didn’t interrupt
once, although she pulled out a notepad and
took occasional notes. She listened intently,
from the beginning all the way up to the call
from Susan Granger this morning about Evie
being the Blood Prize at the Vista.
When she was sure Keri was done, she asked
a question.
“I understand your predicament, Keri. And
I’m horrified for you. But I still don’t
understand. Why are you staring at hundreds
of papers about Mr. Cave?”
“Because I’m at my wits’ end, Mags.
I have no more leads. I have no more clues.
The only thing I know for certain is that
Jackson Cave is somehow involved in my daughter’s
case.”
“You’re certain?” Mags asked.
“Yes,” Keri said. “I don’t think he
was initially. He probably had no idea that
one of his abductors’ victims was my daughter.
After all, I wasn’t even a detective at
the time. I was a college professor. Her disappearance
is the reason I became a cop. I don’t even
know at what point I really attracted his
interest. But at some point he must have pieced
together that the kid the lady detective was
searching for was abducted by someone he had
commissioned.”
“And you think he sought out her location?”
Mags asked. “You think he knows where she
is now?”
“Those are two very different questions.
I’m sure that at some point he did investigate
her location. It would have been in his interest
to know her circumstance. But that would have
been well before I started to sniff him out.
Once he suspected I was looking into him,
I have no doubt he made sure that he couldn’t
be connected to her. He knows that if I thought
he could lead me to Evie, I’d follow him
day and night. He probably worries that I’d
kidnap him and torture him to get her location.”
“Would you?” Mags asked, more curiously
than accusingly.
“I would. A million times over I would.”
“Me too,” Mags whispered.
“So I don’t think that Jackson Cave knows
where my daughter is or who has her. But I
do think he knows individuals who know individuals
who know where she is. I think he could find
out her current location if he was so inclined.
And I think that he could direct her to be
at a specific location at a particular time
if he wanted. That’s what I think is going
on. I think Evie is the Blood Prize because
he wants her to be. And somehow, his wishes
have been conveyed to the people who can make
it happen.”
“So you want to follow that trail?”
“No,” Keri said. “The maze from him
to her is too complicated for me to figure
out, even if I had unlimited time, which I
obviously don’t. That’s a rabbit hole
I won’t go down. But I started to realize,
all this time I’ve only been looking at
Jackson Cave as an opponent, the mastermind
who is keeping me from my daughter, this malevolent
force out to destroy my family.”
“He’s not?” Mags asked, sounding surprised
and almost offended.
“He is. But that’s not how he sees himself.
And that’s not what he always was. I realized
that I have to forget my preconceptions to
learn who this guy is and what makes him tick.”
“Why do you care what makes him tick?”
“Because I can’t beat him if I don’t
understand how he thinks, what his motives
are. And if I don’t understand what’s
really important to him deep down, I’ll
never get leverage over him. And that’s
what I really need, Mags—leverage. This
guy isn’t going to volunteer any information
to me. But if I can determine what matters
most to him, maybe I can use that to get my
daughter back.”
“How?”
“I have no idea…yet.”
CHAPTER FIVE
When Ray walked into the conference room three
hours later, Keri still didn’t have leverage.
But she did think she had a better sense of
who Jackson Cave was.
“Lovely to see you, Detective Sands,”
Mags said when he entered bearing submarine
sandwiches and iced coffees.
“Good to see you too, Red,” he said as
he tossed the sandwiches on the table.
“Well, I do declare,” she replied huffily.
 Keri wasn’t sure when Ray had started
calling Margaret Merrywether “Red” but
she got a kick out of it. And despite her
reaction now, Keri was pretty sure Mags didn’t
mind either.
“I brought the guy’s financials and property
records,” Ray said. “But I don’t think
they’re going to be the answer. I reviewed
them with Edgerton and he couldn’t find
anything hinky. But for a guy with that kind
of money and power, that alone is actually
kind of hinky.”
“I agree,” Keri said. “But hinky isn’t
enough to act on.”
“He wanted to bring in Patterson but I told
him to hold off for now.”
Detective Garrett Patterson went by the nickname
“Grunt Work,” and for good reason. He
was the second best tech guy in the unit behind
Edgerton, and while he lacked Edgerton’s
intuitive gifts for finding unseen connections
within complex information, he had another
skill. He loved to pore over the minutiae
of records to find that small but crucial
detail that others missed.
“That was the right call,” Keri said after
a moment. “He might uncover something with
the property records. But I worry that he
couldn’t help but tell Hillman or accidentally
cast too wide a net and set off warning lights.
I don’t want to involve him unless we have
no other choice.”
“It may come to that,” Ray said. “That
is, unless you’ve cracked the Cave code
in the last few hours.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Keri admitted.
“But we have uncovered some surprising stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for starters,” Mags piped in, “Jackson
Cave wasn’t always a complete asshole.”
“That is a surprise,” Ray said, unwrapping
a sandwich and taking a big bite. “How so?”
“He used to work in the D.A.’s office,”
Mags replied.
“He was a prosecutor?” Ray asked, nearly
choking on his food. “The defender of rapists
and child molesters?”
“It was a long time ago,” Keri said. “He
joined the D.A. right out of law school at
USC—worked there for two years.”
“Couldn’t hack it?” Ray wondered.
“Actually, his conviction rate was pretty
amazing. He apparently didn’t like to plead
down often so he took most cases to trial.
He got nineteen convictions and two hung juries.
Not one acquittal.”
“That is good,” Ray acknowledged. “So
why did he switch teams?”
“That took some digging,” Keri said. “It
was actually Mags who figured it out. You
want to explain?”
“It would be my great pleasure,” she said,
looking up from the sea of pages in front
of her. “I suppose a lifetime of doing tedious
research pays off from time to time. Jackson
Cave had a half-brother named Coy Trembley.
They had different fathers but grew up together.
Coy was three years older than Jackson.”
“Was Coy a lawyer too?” Ray asked.
“Hardly,” Mags said. “Coy was in trouble
with the law throughout his teens and twenties—mostly
petty stuff. But when he was thirty-one, he
was arrested for sexual assault. Basically
he was accused of forcing himself on a nine-year-old
girl who lived down the street.”
“And Cave defended him?”
“Not officially. But he took a nine-month
leave of absence from the prosecutor’s office
right after the arrest. He wasn’t Trembley’s
attorney of record and his name isn’t on
any of the legal documents filed with the
court in the case.”
“I hear a ‘but’ coming,” Ray said.
“You hear correctly, dear,” Mags declared.
“But for tax purposes, his declared job
during that time was ‘legal consultant.’
And I’ve compared the language in the briefs
in Trembley’s case. Some of the phrasing
and logic are very similar to more recent
Cave cases. I think it’s fair to assume
he was secretly assisting his brother.”
“How’d he do?” Ray asked.
“Quite well. Coy Trembley’s case ended
in a hung jury. Prosecutors were debating
whether to retry him when the little girl’s
father showed up at Trembley’s apartment
and shot him five times, including once in
the face. He didn’t make it.”
“Jeez,” Ray muttered.
“Yeah,” Keri agreed. “It was around
that time that Cave gave his notice to the
D.A.’s office. He was off the grid for three
months after that. Then he suddenly reemerged
with a new firm that dealt mostly with corporate
clients. But he also did a little white collar
defense stuff and increasingly as the years
went by, pro-bono work for folks like his
half brother.”
“Wait,” Ray demanded incredulously. “Am
I supposed to believe this guy became a defense
lawyer to honor the memory of his dead brother
or something, to defend the rights of the
morally grotesque?”
Keri shook her head.
“I don’t know, Ray,” she said. “Cave
almost never spoke about his brother over
the years. But when he did, he always maintained
that Coy was falsely accused. He was pretty
adamant about it. I think it’s possible
that he started his practice with noble intentions.”
“Okay. Let’s say I give him the benefit
of the doubt on that. What the hell happened
to him then?”
Mags picked up from there.
“Well, it’s pretty clear that the guilt
of most of his early pro-bono clients was
highly dubious. Some of them seem to have
just been picked out of lineups or pulled
off the street. Occasionally he got them off;
usually he didn’t. Meanwhile, he was going
around making speeches at civil liberties
conferences—good speeches actually, very
passionate. There was even talk that he might
run for office someday.”
“Sounds like an American success story so
far,” Ray said.
“It was,” Keri agreed. “That is, until
about ten years ago. That’s when he took
on the case of a guy who didn’t fit the
profile. He was a serial child abductor who
apparently did it professionally. And he paid
Cave handsomely to represent him.”
“Why did he all of a sudden take on that
case?” Ray asked.
“Not a hundred percent clear,” Keri said.
“His corporate work hadn’t really taken
off yet. So it could have been a financial
decision. Maybe he didn’t view this guy
as being as objectionable as others. The charges
against him were for abduction for hire, not
assault or molestation. The guy basically
kidnapped kids and sold them to the highest
bidder. He was, to use a generous description,
a ‘professional.’ Whatever the reason,
Cave took this guy on, got him acquitted,
and then the floodgates opened. He started
taking all manner of similar clients, many
of whom were less…professional.”
“Around the same time,” Mags added,”
the corporate work picked up. He moved from
a storefront in Echo Park to the downtown
high-rise office he has now. And he’s never
looked back.”
“I don’t know,” Ray said skeptically.
“It’s hard to see the through line from
civil libertarian fighting for the least among
us to remorseless legal shark representing
pedophiles and possibly coordinating a child
sex slave ring. I feel like we’re missing
a piece.”
“Well, you’re a detective, Raymond,”
said Mags snarkily. “By all means, detect.”
Ray opened his mouth, about to fire back,
before realizing that he was being teased.
All three of them laughed, glad for the chance
to break the tension they hadn’t realized
had been building up. Keri jumped back in.
“It has to be related to that serial abductor
he represented. That’s when everything changed.
We should look into that more.”
“What do you have on him?” Ray asked.
“His case just kind of dead ends,” Mags
said, frustrated. “Cave represented the
man, got him off, and then that guy dropped
off the radar. We haven’t been able to find
anything on him since.”
“What was the man’s name?” Ray asked.
“John Johnson,” Mags answered.
“That sounds familiar,” Ray muttered.
“Really?” Keri said, surprised. “Because
there’s almost nothing on him. It looks
like it was a false identity. There’s no
record of him existing after he was acquitted.
It’s like he left that courtroom and then
completely disappeared.”
“Still, the name rings a bell,” Ray said.
“I think it was before you joined the force.
Did you try pulling up a mug shot?”
“I started to,” Keri said. “There are
seventy-four John Johnsons in the database
who had mug shots taken the month of his arrest.
I didn’t have a chance to go through them
all.”
“Mind if I take a look?”
“Go ahead,” Keri said, punching up the
screen and sliding her laptop over to him.
She could tell he was on to something but
didn’t want to say it out loud yet in case
he was wrong. As he scrolled through the images,
he spoke almost absent-mindedly.
“You both said it was like he dropped off
the radar, like he’d disappeared, right?”
“Uh-huh,” Keri said, watching him closely,
feeling her breathing quicken.
“Almost like…a ghost?” he asked.
“Uh-huh,” she repeated.
He stopped scrolling and stared at an image
on the screen before looking up at Keri.
“I think that’s because he is a ghost;
or more accurately, ‘The Ghost.’”
Ray turned the screen so that Keri could see
the mug shot. As she stared at the image of
the man who first sent Jackson Cave down his
dark path, a cold shiver went down her spine.
She knew him.
CHAPTER SIX
Keri tried to control her emotions as a shot
of adrenaline coursed through her system,
making her entire body tingle.
She recognized the man staring back at her.
But she didn’t know him as John Johnson.
When they’d met, he’d gone by the name
Thomas Anderson, but everybody referred to
him as The Ghost.
They’d spoken only twice, each time at the
Twin Towers Correctional Facility in downtown
Los Angeles, where he was currently being
incarcerated for crimes not unlike those John
Johnson had been acquitted of.
“Who is it, Keri?” Mags asked, half concerned,
half annoyed by the long silence.
Keri realized she had been mutely staring
at the mug shot for the last few seconds.
“Sorry,” she replied, shaking herself
back into the moment. “His name is Thomas
Anderson. He’s being held at county lockup
for the abduction and sale of children, mostly
to out-of-state families who didn’t meet
adoption qualifications. I can’t believe
it didn’t occur to me that Johnson and Anderson
could be the same guy.”
“Cave deals with a lot of abductors, Keri,”
Ray said. “There’s no reason you should
have made that connection.”
“How do you know him?” Mags asked.
“I stumbled across him last year when I
was looking through case files about abductors.
At one point, I thought he might have taken
Evie. I went to Twin Towers to interview him
and it became clear pretty quickly that he
wasn’t the guy. He even gave me a few leads
that helped me ultimately hunt down the Collector.
And now that I think about it, he’s the
first person who mentioned Jackson Cave to
me—he said Cave was his lawyer.”
“You’d never heard of Cave before that?”
Mags asked.
“No, I’d heard of him. He’s notorious
to Missing Person cops. But I’d never met
one of his clients or had reason to think
about him as anything other than a generalized
scumbag until Anderson made me more aware
of him. Until I met Thomas Anderson, Jackson
Cave was never on my radar.”
“And you don’t think that’s a coincidence?”
Mags asked.
“With Anderson, I’m not sure anything
is a coincidence. Isn’t it strange that
he gets off scot-free as ‘John Johnson’
but then gets arrested doing the same abduction
thing using his real identity, Thomas Anderson?
Why didn’t he use a fake identity again?
I mean, the guy was a librarian for over thirty
years. He basically ruined his life by using
his real name.”
“Maybe he thought Cave could get him off
a second time?” Ray suggested.
“But here’s the thing,” Keri said. “Even
though Cave was technically his defense attorney,
at his last trial, the one at which he was
convicted, Anderson defended himself. And
supposedly, he was great. Word was he was
so convincing that if the case wasn’t iron-clad,
he would have gotten off.”
“If this guy was such a genius,” Mags
countered, “how was the case against him
so strong in the first place?”
“I asked him the same thing,” Keri replied.
“And he agreed with me that it was odd that
someone as clever and meticulous as him would
get caught like that. He didn’t come right
out and say it but he essentially hinted that
he meant to get convicted.”
“But why on God’s green earth!” Mags
asked.
“That is an excellent question, Margaret,”
Keri said, closing the laptop. “And it’s
one I intend to address with Mr. Anderson
right now.”
*
Keri parked her car in the massive structure
across from the Twin Towers and made her way
to the elevator. Sometimes if she had to visit
in the day, the massive county lockup facility
was so busy that she had to go all the way
to the uncovered tenth floor of the structure
to find a parking spot. But it was almost
8 p.m. and she found a spot on the second
floor.
As she crossed the street, she went over her
plan. Technically, because of her suspension
and the IA investigation, she didn’t have
authorization to meet with a prisoner in an
interrogation room. But that wasn’t common
knowledge yet. She was hoping her familiarity
with the prison staff would allow her to bluff
her way through.
Ray had offered to come along to smooth her
path. But she worried that would lead to questions,
potentially getting him in trouble. Even if
it didn’t, he might be required to sit in
on the interview with Anderson. Keri knew
the guy wouldn’t open up under those circumstances.
As it turned out, she needn’t have worried.
“How’s it going, Detective Locke?” Security
Officer Beamon asked as she approached the
lobby metal detector. “I’m surprised to
see you up and moving after the run-in with
that psycho earlier this week.”
“Oh, yeah,” Keri agreed, deciding to use
her earlier confrontation to her advantage,
“me too, Freddie. Looks like I was in a
prize fight, right? I’m actually still officially
on leave until I’m in better shape. But
I was getting a little stir-crazy around the
apartment so I thought I’d check on an old
case. It’s informal so I didn’t even bring
the gun and shield. Still cool if I interview
someone even if I’m off the clock?”
“Of course, Detective. I just wish you’d
take it a little easy. But I know you won’t.
Sign in. Get your visitor badge and head to
the interrogation level. You know the drill.”
Keri did know the drill and fifteen minutes
later she was seated in an interrogation room,
waiting for the arrival of inmate #2427609,
or Thomas “The Ghost” Anderson. The guard
had warned her that they were getting ready
for lights out and it might take a little
extra time to collect him. She tried to stay
cool as she waited but knew it was a losing
battle.
Anderson always seemed to get under her skin,
as if he was secretly peeling back her scalp
to reveal her brain and read her thoughts.
Oftentimes, she felt like she was a kitten
and he was holding one of those laser pen
lights, sending her scampering in random directions
at his whim.
And yet, it was his information that sent
her down a road that had gotten her closer
to finding Evie than anything else had. Was
that by design or just luck? He’d never
given her any indication that their meetings
were anything other than happenstance. But
if he was that far ahead of the game, why
would he?
The door opened and he stepped through it,
looking much as she remembered. Anderson,
in his mid-fifties, was on the shorter side,
about five foot eight, with a square, well-built
frame that suggested he used the prison gym
regularly. The manacles on his muscled forearms
looked tight. Still, he appeared leaner than
she remembered, as if he’d missed a few
meals.
His thick hair was parted neatly but much
to her surprise, it was no longer the jet
black she remembered. Now it was mostly a
salt-and-pepper combination. At the edges
of his prison jumpsuit, she could still see
portions of the multiple tattoos that lined
the right side of his body all the way up
his neck. His left side was still unblemished.
As he was directed to the metal chair across
the table from her, his gray eyes never left
her. She knew he was taking her in, studying
her, sizing her up, trying to learn as much
as he could about her situation before she
said a word.
After he was seated, the guard took a position
by the door.
“We’re fine, Officer…Kiley,” Keri
said, squinting at his nametag.
“Procedure, ma’am,” the guard said brusquely.
She glanced over at him. He was new…and
young. She doubted he was on the take yet
but she couldn’t afford for anyone, corrupt
or clean, to hear this conversation. Anderson
smiled slightly at her, knowing what was coming.
This would probably be entertaining for him.
She stood up and stared at the guard until
he sensed her eyes on him and looked over.
“First of all, it’s not ma’am. It’s
Detective Locke. Second, I don’t give a
rat’s ass about your procedure, newbie.
I want to talk to this inmate in private.
If you can’t accommodate that, then I need
to talk to you in private and it’s not going
to be a comfortable chat.”
“But…” Kiley started to stammer as he
shifted from foot to foot.
“But nothing, Officer. You have two choices
here. You can let me speak to this inmate
privately. Or we can have that chat! Which
is it gonna be?”
“Maybe I should get my superviso—”
“That’s not on the list of choices, Officer.
You know what? I’m deciding for you. Let’s
step outside so I can chat you up a little.
You’d think taking down a religious zealot
pedophile would give me a pass for the rest
of the week but I guess now I have to instruct
a corrections officer as well.”
She reached for the door handle and started
to pull when Officer Kiley finally lost what
was left of his nerve. She was impressed at
how long he’d lasted.
“Never mind, Detective,” he said hastily.
“I’ll wait outside. Just please use caution.
This prisoner has a history of violent incidents.”
“Of course I will,” Keri said, her voice
now all buttered honey. “Thank you for being
so accommodating. I’ll try to keep it brief.”
He stepped out and shut the door and Keri
returned to her seat, filled with a confidence
and energy that had been lacking only thirty
seconds earlier.
“That was fun,” Anderson said mildly.
“I’m sure,” Keri replied. “You can
bet I expect some valuable information in
return for providing you with such quality
entertainment.”
“Detective Locke,” Anderson said in a
tone of mocked indignation, “you offend
my delicate sensibilities. It’s been months
since we’ve seen each other and yet your
first instinct upon seeing me is to demand
information? No hello? No how are you?”
“Hello,” Keri said. “I’d ask how you
are, but it’s clear you’re not great.
You’ve lost weight. The hair has gone gray.
The skin near your eyes has gotten saggy.
Are you ill? Or is something weighing on your
conscience?”
“Both actually,” he admitted. “You see,
the boys in here have been treating me a little
rough lately. I’m no longer in the popular
crowd. So I have my dinner ‘borrowed’
occasionally. I get an unrequested rib massage
now and then. Also, I have a touch of the
cancer.”
“I didn’t know,” Keri said quietly,
genuinely taken aback. All the physical signs
of wasting away made more sense now.
“How could you?” he asked. “I didn’t
advertise it. I might have told you at my
parole hearing in November but you weren’t
there. I didn’t get it, by the way. Not
your fault though. Your letter was lovely,
thank you very much.”
Keri had written a letter on Anderson’s
behalf after he’d helped her before. She
didn’t advocate for his release but she
had been generous in her description of his
assistance to the force.
“You weren’t surprised you didn’t get
it, I gather?”
“No,” he said. “But it’s hard not
to hope. It was my last real chance to get
out of here before the sickness takes me.
I had dreams of wandering on a beach in Zihuatanejo.
Alas, it’s not to be. But enough small talk,
Detective. Let’s get down to why you’re
really here. And remember, the walls have
ears.”
“Okay,” she started, then leaned in and
whispered, “do you know about tomorrow night?”
Anderson nodded. Keri felt a surge of hope
rise in her chest.
“Do you know where it’s happening?”
He shook his head.
“I can’t help you with the where,” he
whispered back. “But I might be able to
help you with the why.”
“What good will that do me?’ she demanded
bitterly.
“Knowing why might help you find out where.”
“Let me ask you a different why,” she
said, realizing her anger was getting the
best of her but unable to contain it.
“All right.”
“Why are you helping me at all?” she asked.
“Have you been guiding me all along, since
I first met you?”
“Here’s what I can tell you, Detective.
You know what I did for a living, how I coordinated
the theft of children from their families
to be given to other families, often for massive
fees. It was a very lucrative business. I
was able to conduct it from a distance using
a false name and live a happy, uncomplicated
life.”
“As John Johnson?”
“No, my happy life was as Thomas Anderson,
librarian. My alter ego was John Johnson,
abduction facilitator. When I was caught,
I turned to someone we both know to ensure
that John Johnson was exonerated and that
Thomas Anderson was never connected to him.
This was almost a decade ago. Our friend didn’t
want to do it. He said he only represented
those mistreated by the system and that I
was, and this is funny to think about now,
a cancer on that system.”
“That is funny,” Keri agreed, not laughing.
“But as you know, I can be convincing. I
persuaded him that I was taking children from
wealthy, undeserving families and giving them
to loving families without the same resources.
Then I offered him an enormous amount of money
to get me acquitted. I think he knew I was
lying. After all, how could these low-income
families afford to pay me? And were the parents
who lost their children all really terrible?
Our friend is very smart. He had to have known.
But it gave him something to hold on to, something
to tell himself when he took six figures in
cash from me.”
“Six figures?” Keri repeated, disbelieving.
“As I said, it’s a very lucrative business.
And that payment was just the first. Over
the course of the trial, I paid him about
half a million dollars. And with that, he
was on his way. After I was acquitted and
resumed work under my own name, he even started
helping me facilitate the abductions to these
‘more deserving’ families. As long as
he could find a way to justify the transactions,
he was comfortable with them, even enthusiastic.”
“So you gave him that first bite of forbidden
fruit?”
“I did. And he found that he liked the taste.
In fact, he discovered that he had a taste
for a great many things he hadn’t been aware
that he might like.”
“What exactly are you saying?” Keri asked.
“Let’s just say that somewhere along the
way, he lost the need to justify the transactions.
You know that event tomorrow night?”
“Yes?”
“It was his brainchild,” Anderson said.
“Mind you, he doesn’t partake. But he
realized there was a market for that sort
of thing and for all the smaller, similar
festivities throughout the year. He filled
that niche. He essentially controls the upscale
version of that…market in the Los Angeles
area. And to think that before me, he was
working out of a one-room office next to a
doughnut shop representing illegal immigrants
being randomly charged with sex crimes by
cops looking to make quotas.”
“So you developed a conscience?” Keri
asked through gritted teeth. She was disgusted
but she wanted answers and worried that being
too overt with that disgust might shut Anderson
down. He seemed to sense how she felt but
proceeded anyway.
“Not yet. That’s not what did it for me.
It happened much later. I saw this story on
the local news about a year and a half ago
about a female detective and her partner who
rescued this little girl who was kidnapped
by her babysitter’s boyfriend, a real creep.”
“Carlo Junta,” Keri said automatically.
“Right. Anyway, in the story, they mentioned
that this detective was the same woman who
had joined the police academy a few years
earlier. And they showed a clip from an interview
after her academy graduation. She said she’d
joined the force because her daughter was
abducted. She said that even though she couldn’t
save her own daughter, maybe by being a cop,
she could help save some other family’s
daughter. Does that sound familiar?”
“Yes,” Keri said softly.
“So,” Anderson continued, “because I
worked in a library and had access to all
kinds of old news footage, I went back and
found the story from when this lady’s daughter
was abducted and her news conference right
afterward when she pleaded for her daughter’s
safe return.”
Keri flashed back to the news conference,
which was mostly a blur. She remembered speaking
into a dozen microphones jammed in her face,
begging the man who had snatched her daughter
in the middle of a park, who had tossed her
in a van like a rag doll, to return her.
She remembered the scream of “Please Mommy,
help me” and the bobbing blonde pigtails
getting farther away as Evie, only eightat
the time, disappeared across the green field.
She remembered the bits of gravel that were
still embedded in her feet during the news
conference, trapped there when she ran barefoot
through the parking lot, chasing after the
van until it left her in the dust. She remembered
it all.
Anderson had stopped talking. She looked at
him and saw that his eyes were rimmed with
tears, just as hers were. He pressed on.
“After that, I saw another story a few months
later where this detective rescued another
kid, this time a boy grabbed while he was
walking to baseball practice.”
“Jimmy Tensall.”
“And a month later, she found a baby girl
that had been snatched right out of a carrier
at the supermarket. The woman who stole her
had a fake birth certificate made and was
planning to fly with the baby to Peru. You
caught her at the gate as she was about to
board the plane.”
“I remember.”
“That’s when I decided I couldn’t do
it anymore. Every transaction reminded me
of that news conference where you were begging
for your daughter’s return. I couldn’t
keep it at arm’s length anymore. I got soft,
I guess. And right around then, our friend
made a mistake.”
“What was that?” Keri asked, feeling a
tingly sensation that only came when she sensed
something big about to be revealed.
Thomas Anderson looked at her and she could
tell he was wrestling with some kind of big
internal decision. Then his brow unfurrowed
and his eyes cleared. He seemed to have made
up his mind.
“Do you trust me?” he asked quietly.
“What the hell kind of question is that?
No friggin’ w—”
But before she had finished the sentence,
he had pushed away the table that separated
them, swung the manacles on his wrists around
her neck, and pulled her to the ground, sliding
back into a corner of the interrogation room.
As Officer Kiley burst into the room, Anderson
used her body as a shield, keeping her in
front of him. She felt a sharp prick at her
neck and glanced down to see what it was.
It looked like a shaved-down toothbrush handle.
And it was pressed against her jugular.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Keri was totally bewildered. A moment earlier,
Anderson had been tearing up at the thought
of her missing daughter. Now he was holding
a razor-sharp piece of plastic to her throat.
Her first instinct was to make a move to break
his grip. But she knew it wouldn’t work.
There was no way she could do anything before
he’d be able to jam the plastic spike into
her vein.
Besides, something about this wasn’t right.
Anderson had never given her any sense that
he had malice toward her. He seemed to actually
like her. He seemed to want to help her. And
if he really had cancer, this was a fruitless
exercise. He said himself that he’d be dead
soon.
Is this way of avoiding the agony, his version
of suicide by cop?
“Drop it, Anderson!” Officer Kiley screamed,
his weapon pointed in their general direction.
“Put your gun down, Kiley,” Anderson said
surprisingly calmly. “You’re going to
accidentally shoot the hostage and then your
career will be over before it’s even started.
Follow procedure. Alert your superior. Get
a negotiator over here. It shouldn’t take
long. The department always has one on call.
Someone can probably be in this room in ten
minutes.”
Kiley stood there, uncertain how to proceed.
His eyes darted back and forth between Anderson
and Keri. His hands were shaking.
“He’s right, Officer,” Keri said, trying
to match Anderson’s soothing tone. “Just
follow standard procedure and this will all
work out. The prisoner isn’t going anywhere.
Step outside and make sure the door is locked.
Make your calls. I’m okay. Mr. Anderson
isn’t going to hurt me. He clearly wants
to negotiate. So you need to bring in someone
who has authorization to do that, okay?”
Kiley nodded but his feet remained rooted
in place.
“Officer Kiley,” Keri said, this time
more firmly, “step outside and call your
supervisor. Right now!”
That seemed to snap Kiley out of it. He backed
out of the room, closed and locked the door,
and grabbed the phone on the wall, never letting
them out of his sight.
“We don’t have much time,” Anderson
whispered in Keri’s ear as he relaxed the
plastic pressing against her flesh slightly.
“I’m sorry about this but it’s the only
way I could be sure we could speak in complete
confidence.”
“Really?” Keri whispered back, half furious,
half relieved.
“Cave has people everywhere, in here and
out there. After this, I’m done for sure.
I won’t last through the night. I might
not last the hour. But I’m more worried
about you. If he thinks that you know everything
I know, he might just have you eliminated,
regardless of the consequences.”
“So what do you know?” Keri asked.
“I told you Cave made a mistake. He came
to me and said he was worried about you. He
had done some checking and found out that
one of his guys had kidnapped your daughter.
As you found out, it was Brian Wickwire—the
Collector. Cave didn’t order it or know
about it. Wickwire operated on his own a lot
and Cave would often help facilitate moving
the girls after the fact. That’s what he
did with Evie and he never gave it a second
thought.”
“So he wasn’t targeting her?” Keri asked.
She had suspected as much but wanted to be
sure.
“No. She was just some cute blonde girl
that Wickwire thought he could fetch a nice
price for. But after you started rescuing
girls and generating headlines, Cave went
back through his records and saw that he was
connected to her abduction through Wickwire.
He was worried you’d eventually find your
way to him and he asked me to help stash Evie
somewhere well-hidden and to keep him out
of it. He didn’t want to know.”
“He was covering his tracks even before
I suspected he was involved?” Keri asked,
marveling at Cave’s foresight.
“He’s a clever guy,” Anderson agreed.
“But what he didn’t realize was that he
was asking the exact wrong person for help.
He couldn’t have known. After all, I’m
the one who corrupted him in the first place.
Why would he suspect me? But I made up my
mind to help you. Of course, I did it in a
way that I thought would keep me protected.”
Just then Kiley opened the door a crack.
“Negotiator’s on his way,” he said,
his voice quavering. “He’ll be here in
five minutes. Just stay calm. Don’t do anything
crazy, Anderson.”
“Don’t you make me do anything crazy!”
Anderson screamed back at him, pulling the
toothbrush back up to Keri’s neck and inadvertently
poking her skin. Kiley quickly shut the door
again.
“Ow,” she said.” I think you drew blood.”
“Sorry about that,” he said, sounding
surprisingly sheepish. “It’s hard to maneuver
splayed out on the floor like this.”
“Just rein it in a little, okay?”
“I’ll try. There’s just a lot going
on, you know? Anyway, I talked to Wickwire
and told him to place Evie at a location somewhere
in LA where she’d be well taken care of,
in case we needed her later on. I wanted to
make sure she didn’t leave the city. And
I didn’t want her to go through… more
than she had to.”
Keri didn’t respond but they both knew there
was nothing he could do about the years prior
to that, and the horrors her daughter must
have suffered in that time. Anderson continued
quickly, clearly not wanting to linger on
the thought any more than she did.
“I didn’t know what he did with her but
it turned out he put her with the older guy
you eventually found out she was staying with.”
“If you had decided to help me, why didn’t
you just find out her location and get her
yourself?”
“Two reasons,” Anderson said. “First,
Wickwire wasn’t going to give up her location
to me. It was prized info and he kept it closely
guarded. Second, and I’m not proud of this,
I knew that I’d get arrested if I came to
you with your daughter.”
“But you got arrested intentionally anyway
a few months later for child abductions,”
Keri protested.
“I did that afterward, when I realized I
had to take drastic action. I knew that eventually
you’d research child abductors and traffickers
and find your way to me. And I knew that I
could set you on the right path without making
Cave suspicious of me. As to getting arrested
intentionally, that’s true. But you may
recall that I defended myself in court. And
if you check the court record closely, you’ll
discover that both the prosecutor and the
judge made several errors, errors I baited
them into, that would almost certainly lead
to my conviction being overturned. I was just
waiting until the right time to appeal the
case. Of course that’s all moot now.”
Keri looked up and saw a commotion outside
the window of the room. She could see multiple
officers passing by, at least one of whom
was carrying a long gun. He was a sniper.
“I don’t mean to be cold but we need to
wrap this up,” she said. “There’s no
telling if someone out there has an itchy
trigger finger or if Cave has ordered one
of his minions to put you down as a precaution.”
“Quite right, Detective,” Anderson agreed.
“Here I am blathering on about my moral
conversion when what you want to know is how
to get your daughter back. Am I right?”
“You are. So tell me. How do I get her back?”
“I genuinely don’t know. I don’t know
where she is. I don’t believe Cave knows
where she is. He might know the location of
the Vista event tomorrow night but there’s
no chance he’ll attend. So it’s pointless
to have him followed.”
“So you’re saying I have no hope of getting
her back?” Keri demanded, disbelieving.
Have I been through all this for that answer?
“Likely not, Detective,” he admitted.
“But maybe you can get him to give her back.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jackson Cave used to consider you an annoyance,
an obstacle to running his business. But that
has changed in the last year. He’s become
obsessed with you. He not only thinks you
are out to destroy his business. He thinks
you want to destroy him personally. And because
he has twisted reality to make himself the
good guy, he thinks you are the bad guy.”
“He thinks I’m the bad guy?” Keri repeated,
incredulous.
“Yes. Remember, he manipulates his moral
code as he sees fit so that he can function.
If he thought he was doing evil things, he
couldn’t live with himself. But he’s found
ways to justify even the most heinous of acts.
He told me once that the girls in these sex
slave rings would be starving on the streets
if not for him.”
“He’s gone mad,” Keri said.
“He’s doing what he can to look himself
in the mirror each morning, Detective. And
these days, part of that means believing that
you are on a witch hunt. He views you as the
enemy. He sees you as his nemesis. And that
makes him very dangerous. Because I’m not
sure what lengths he’ll go to in order to
stop you.”
“So then how can I get a guy like that to
give Evie back to me?”
“If you went to him and convinced him that
you’re not after him, that all you want
is your daughter, maybe he’d relent. If
you could persuade him that once you had your
daughter safe in your arms you would forget
about him forever, maybe even leave the police
force, he might be convinced to lay down his
arms. Right now he thinks you want his destruction.
But if he could be made to believe that you
don’t want him, that you only want her,
perhaps there’s a chance.”
“You think that would really work?” Keri
asked, unable to hide the skepticism in her
voice. “I just say ‘give me my daughter
back and I’ll leave you alone forever’
and he goes for it?”
“I don’t know if it will work. But I know
that you’re out of options. And you have
nothing to lose by trying.”
Keri was turning the idea over in her head
when there was a knock on the door.
“The negotiator’s here,” Kiley yelled.
“He’s coming down the hall now.”
“Wait a minute!” Anderson yelled. “Tell
him to stay back. I’ll tell him when he
can come in.”
“I’ll tell him,” Kiley said, though
his voice indicated he was desperate to hand
over communication as soon as possible.
“One last thing,” Anderson whispered in
her ear, even more quietly than before if
that was possible. “You have a mole in your
unit.”
“What? West LA Division?” Keri asked,
stunned.
“In your Missing Persons Unit. I don’t
know who it is. But someone is feeding information
to the other side. So watch your back. More
than usual, I mean.”
A new voice called out from the other side
of the door.
“Mr. Anderson, this is Cal Brubaker. I’m
the negotiator. May I come in?”
“Just one second, Cal,” Anderson called
out. Then he leaned in even closer to Keri.
“I have a feeling this is the last time
we’ll talk, Keri. I want you to know that
I think you’re a very impressive person.
I hope you find Evie. I really do. Come in,
Cal.”
As the door opened, he brought the toothbrush
back up to her neck but didn’t actually
touch the skin. A pot-bellied man in his mid
to late forties with a mop of bushy gray hair
and thin, circular-framed glasses that Keri
suspected were just for show eased into the
room.
He was wearing blue jeans and a rumpled lumberjack-style
shirt, complete with the red and black checkerboard
pattern. It was borderline laughable, like
the “costumed” version of what a nonthreatening
hostage negotiator might look like.
Anderson glanced at her and she could see
that he felt the same way. He seemed to be
fighting the urge to roll his eyes.
“Hi, Mr. Anderson. Can you tell me what’s
bothering you this evening?” he said in
a practiced, unaggressive tone.
“Actually, Cal,” Anderson replied mildly,
“while we were waiting for you, Detective
Locke talked some real sense into me. I realized
I was just letting myself get a little overwhelmed
by my situation and I reacted…poorly. I
think I’m ready to surrender and accept
the consequences of my choices.”
“Okay,” Cal said, surprised. “Well,
this is the most painless negotiation of my
life. Since you’re making things so easy
on me, I have to ask: are you sure there’s
nothing you want?”
“Maybe a few small things,” Anderson said.
“But I don’t think you’ll take issue
with any of them. I’d like to make sure
Detective Locke gets taken straight to the
infirmary. I accidentally poked her with the
point of the toothbrush and I’m not sure
how hygienic it is. She should get it cleaned
up right away. And I’d appreciate it if
you had Officer Kiley, the gentleman who brought
me in here, cuff me and take me wherever I’m
headed. I have a feeling some of those other
guys might be a little rougher than needed.
And maybe, once I drop the pointy object,
you could ask that sniper to clear out. He’s
making me a bit nervous. Reasonable requests?”
“All reasonable, Mr. Anderson,” Cal agreed.
“I’ll do my best to accommodate them.
Why don’t you start the ball rolling by
dropping the toothbrush and letting the detective
go?”
Anderson leaned in close so only Keri could
hear him.
“Good luck,” he whispered almost inaudibly
before dropping the toothbrush and lifting
his arms high so that she could slip under
the manacles. She slid away from him and slowly
got to her feet with the aid of the overturned
table. Cal reached out his hand to offer assistance
but she didn’t take it.
Once she was standing upright and felt steady
she turned to face Thomas “The Ghost”
Anderson for what she was certain would be
the last time.
“Thanks for not killing me,” she muttered,
trying to sound sarcastic.
“You bet,” he said, smiling sweetly.
As she stepped toward the interrogation room
door, it opened wide and five men in full
SWAT gear burst in, tearing past her. She
didn’t look back to see what they did as
she stumbled out the door and into the hallway.
It looked like Cal Brubaker had been true
to at least part of his word. The sniper,
leaning against the far wall, with his gun
at his side, had stood down. But Officer Kiley
was nowhere in sight.
As she walked down the hall, escorted by a
female officer who said she was taking her
to the infirmary, Keri was pretty sure she
could hear the sound of gun butts slamming
into human bone. And while she didn’t hear
any subsequent screaming, she did hear grunting,
followed by deep, ceaseless moaning.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Keri hurried back to her car, hoping to leave
the parking structure before anyone noticed
she was gone. Her heart was beating in time
with her shoes, pounding hard and fast on
the concrete.
Her trip to the infirmary had been a gift
from Anderson. He knew that after a hostage
situation, she was sure to face hours of interrogation,
hours she didn’t have to spare. By demanding
she be allowed to go to the infirmary, he
was ensuring her a window in which she would
have little supervision and possibly be able
to leave before being cornered by a bunch
of Downtown Division detectives.
That’s exactly what she had done. After
a nurse had cleaned up the small puncture
wound on her neck and bandaged it, Keri had
feigned a brief post-hostage-crisis panic
attack and asked to use the bathroom. Since
she wasn’t an inmate, it was easy to slip
out after that.
She made her way down in the elevator with
the janitorial staff who got off at 9 p.m.
Security Officer Beamon must have been on
break because there was some new guy manning
the lobby and he didn’t give her a second
look.
Once out of the building, she started across
the street to the parking structure, still
expecting some detective to come racing outside
after her demanding to know why she’d been
interrogating a prisoner when she was on suspension.
But she heard nothing.
In fact, she was completely alone with her
footsteps and heartbeat as all the off-duty
janitors headed down the street to the bus
stop and metro station. Apparently none of
them drove to work.
It was only when she had reached the second
floor of the stairwell that she heard the
sound of other shoes below. They were loud
and heavy and they seemed to come out of nowhere.
She would have noticed them earlier if they’d
been walking before. They couldn’t have
come from across the street. It was almost
as if someone had been waiting for her arrival
to start moving.
She headed toward her car, about halfway down
the row on the left. The footsteps followed
and it became clear now that it wasn’t one
set of shoes but two, both clearly belonging
to men. Their gaits were thick and lumbering
and she could hear one of them wheezing slightly.
It was possible that these men were detectives
but she doubted it. They likely would have
identified themselves already if they wanted
to question her. And if they were cops with
ill intent, they wouldn’t be approaching
her in the Twin Towers parking structure.
There were cameras everywhere. If they were
on Cave’s payroll and meant her harm, they
would have waited until she was off city property.
Keri slid her hand down involuntarily to her
gun holster before remembering that she’d
left her personal weapon in the trunk. She
had wanted to avoid questions from security
and decided that carrying her personal piece
into a city jail might not accomplish that
goal. For the same reason, her ankle pistol
was in the same place. She was unarmed.
Feeling her pulse quicken, Keri ordered herself
to remain calm, not to speed up her pace to
alert these guys that she was on to them.
They had to know. But maintaining the illusion
might give her time. Same for looking over
her shoulder—she refused to do it. That
was certain to set them running after her.
Instead, she casually glanced in the windows
of some of the shinier SUVs, hoping to get
a sense of who she was dealing with. After
a few cars, she was able to size them up.
Two guys, both wearing suits: one big, the
other huge with a belly that tumbled over
his belt. It was hard to gauge age but the
bigger one looked older as well. He was the
wheezer. Neither were holding guns but the
fat one had what looked to be a Taser and
the younger one was clutching some kind of
nightstick. Apparently someone wanted her
taken alive.
Trying to appear nonchalant, she pulled her
keys from her purse, sliding the pointy ends
between her knuckles facing outward as she
hit the button to unlock her car, now only
twenty feet away. The two men were still about
ten feet from her but there was no way she
could get to her car, open the door, get in,
close the door, and lock it before they caught
her, even at their size. She silently cursed
herself for parking head-in.
The beep her car made seemed to startle the
fat one and he stumbled a bit. After that,
Keri knew that pretending she didn’t notice
them at this point would seem more suspicious
than turning around, so she stopped abruptly
and spun quickly, taking them by surprise.
“How’s it going, guys?” she asked sweetly,
as if discovering two hulking dudes right
behind her was the most natural thing in the
world. They both took another couple of steps
before awkwardly pulling up five feet from
her.
The younger guy appeared to be at a loss.
The older guy started to open his mouth to
speak. Keri’s senses were tingling. For
some reason, she noticed he had missed a patch
of hair on the left side of his neck the last
time he’d shaved. Almost without thinking,
she pushed the alarm button on her car remote.
Both men glanced involuntarily in that direction.
That’s when she moved.
She lunged forward quickly, swinging her right
fist, the one with the exposed keys, at the
left side of his face. Everything began to
move in slow motion. He saw her too late and
by the time he started to raise his left arm
to try to block the punch, she had made contact.
Keri knew it was a direct hit because at least
one of the keys went pretty deep before hitting
resistance. The screaming started almost immediately
as blood gushed from his eye. She didn’t
pause to admire her handiwork. Instead, she
used her forward momentum to dive forward,
slamming her right shoulder into his left
knee even as he was already crumpling to the
ground.
She heard a sickening pop and knew that his
knee ligaments were being torn violently apart
as he fell to the ground. She forced the sound
from her brain as she tried to roll smoothly
back up to a standing position.
Unfortunately, throwing herself against such
a massive person had rattled her body from
head to toe, re-aggravating the pain of the
injuries she suffered only days earlier. Her
chest felt like it had been whacked with a
frying pan. She was pretty sure she’d slammed
her injured knee on the concrete parking structure
floor as she dived and the collision had left
her right shoulder throbbing.
More immediately troubling than any of that
was that smashing into the guy had slowed
her movement enough for the younger, fitter
guy to regain his senses. As Keri came out
of her roll and tried to recover her balance,
he was already moving toward her, his eyes
blazing with an intense mix of fury and fear,
the nightstick in his right hand starting
its downward swing.
She realized that she wasn’t going to be
able to avoid it completely and turned her
body so that the blow landed on her left side
rather than her head. She felt the brutal
smash against the ribs on her left torso just
below the shoulder, followed by a stinging
pain that radiated outward from the point
of impact.
The air left her body as she collapsed to
her knees in front of him. Her eyes had gone
watery immediately upon being hit but she
still managed to make out an ominous sight
directly in front of her. The younger guy’s
feet had started to rise onto his toes, his
heels leaving the ground.
It took less than a fraction of a second for
Keri to process what that meant. He was rising
up, lifting the nightstick over his head so
that he would be able to bring its full force
down on hers for a knockout blow. She saw
his left foot start to come forward and knew
that meant he was starting the downward motion.
Ignoring everything—her inability to breathe,
the pain ricocheting from her chest to her
shoulder to her ribs to her knee, her blurry
vision—she dove forward, directly at him.
She knew she didn’t have much momentum pushing
off from her knees but she hoped it was enough
to prevent a direct hit on the top of her
skull. As she did, she thrust her right hand,
the one still clutching the keys, in the general
direction of the guy’s crotch, hoping to
make any kind of contact.
It all happened at once. She felt the stick
hit her upper back at the same time she heard
the grunt. The whack stung her but only for
a second as she realized the man had lost
his grip on the stick almost immediately after
making contact. She heard it hit the concrete
and roll off into the distance as she collapsed
to the floor.
Glancing up, she saw the man doubled over,
both hands clutching at his groin area. He
was cursing loudly and without end. At least
for the moment, he seemed oblivious to her.
Keri looked over at the fat man, who was several
feet away, still rolling on the ground, screaming
in agony, both hands covering his left eye,
seemingly unaware of his knee, which was bent
in an inhuman direction.
Keri gulped in a deep breath of air, the first
in what felt like forever, and forced herself
into action.
Get up and move. This is your chance. It may
be your only one.
Ignoring the pain she felt everywhere, she
pushed herself up off the hard ground and
half-ran, half-limped to her car. The younger
guy glanced up from his crotch and made a
token attempt to reach out and grab her. But
she steered well clear of him and stumbled
toward her car, got in, locked, it, started
it, and pulled out without even looking in
the rearview mirror. Part of her hoped the
young guy was back there and that she’d
hear a thud as she slammed into him.
She hit the gas and tore around the corner
of the second floor and down to the first.
As she approached the exit booth, she was
amazed to see the younger guy stumbling down
the stairs and shuffling in the direction
of her car.
She could see the horror on the face of the
booth attendant, who was looking back and
forth between the hunched over man shambling
in his direction and the tire-screeching car
careening to the same spot. She almost felt
bad for him. But it wasn’t enough to prevent
her from speeding through the exit, slamming
into the wooden gate, and sending chunks of
it flying off into the night.
*
She spent the night at Ray’s place. For
one thing, it didn’t seem safe to go back
to hers. She didn’t know who had come after
her. But if they were willing to attack her
in a camera-filled parking lot across from
the jail, her apartment didn’t seem like
such a heavy lift. Besides, the way she felt,
Keri wasn’t in any condition to fend off
additional attackers tonight.
Ray had drawn a bath for her. She’d called
him on the way over so he knew the basics
of the situation and mercifully wasn’t peppering
her with questions while she tried to regroup.
As she lay in the water, letting its warmth
ease her aching bones, he sat in a chair beside
the tub, intermittently coaxing her to sip
spoonfuls of broth.
Eventually, after drying off and putting on
a pair of his pajamas, she felt well enough
to do a postmortem. They sat on his couch
in the living room, lit only by a half dozen
candles. Neither of them commented on the
fact that both their weapons rested on the
coffee table in front of them.
“It just seems so brazen,” Ray said, referring
to the boldness of the parking structure attack,
“and kind of desperate.”
“I agree,” Keri said. “Assuming these
were Cave’s flunkies, it makes me think
he was really concerned that Anderson spilled
all the beans in that interrogation room.
But what I don’t get is, if he was willing
to go that far, why didn’t he just have
those guys shoot me in the back and get it
over with? What was with the Taser and the
nightstick?”
“Maybe he wanted to find out what you know,
see who else knows it, before getting rid
of you. Or maybe it’s not Cave at all. You
said Anderson told you there’s a mole in
the unit, right? Maybe someone else didn’t
want that information getting out.”
“I guess that’s possible,” Kari admitted,
“although he was so quiet when he said that
part that I almost couldn’t hear him. It’s
hard to imagine that even in a bugged room,
anyone caught it. To be honest, I’m still
having trouble even processing that bit of
information.”
“Yeah, me too,” Ray agreed. “So where
do we go from here, Keri? I stayed in that
conference room with Mags for another couple
of hours but we didn’t learn anything really
new. I’m not sure how to proceed.”
“I think I’m going to take Anderson’s
advice,” she replied.
“What, you mean go see Cave?” he asked,
incredulous. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Are
you just going to show up at the front door
of his home?”
“I’m not sure what other choice I have.”
“What makes you think it’s going to do
any good?” he asked.
“It may not. But Anderson’s right. Unless
something breaks soon, I’m out of options,
Ray. Evie is going to be murdered on closed
circuit television in twenty-five hours! If
talking to Jackson Cave—appealing to him
for my daughter’s life—has even a chance
of working, then I’m going to try it.”
Ray nodded, clasping her hand in his and wrapping
his huge arms around her shoulder. He was
gentle but she winced in pain nonetheless.
“Sorry,” he whispered quietly. “Of course—we’ll
do whatever it takes. But I’m going with
you.”
“Ray, I’m not holding out much hope that
this will work. But he’s definitely not
going to say anything if you’re standing
there next to me. I have to do this alone.”
“But he might have tried to have you killed
tonight.”
“Probably just maimed,” she said with
a weak smile, trying to lower the temperature.
“Besides, he won’t do that if I show up
at his house. He won’t be expecting me.
And it’d be too risky. What kind of alibi
would he have if something happened to me
while I was at his home? He might be delusional
but he’s not stupid.”
“Fine,” Ray relented. “I won’t go
with you to the house. But you better believe
I’ll be close by.”
“Such a good boyfriend,” Keri said, snuggling
up closer to him, despite the discomfort that
moving caused. “I’ll bet you’ve got
a black-and-white outside patrolling the neighborhood
to make sure your little lady sleeps safe
through the night.”
“How about two?” he said. “I’m not
letting anything happen to you.”
“My knight in shining armor,” Keri said,
yawning despite her best efforts. “I can
still recall the days when I was a criminology
professor at LMU and you would come and speak
to my students.”
“Simpler times,” Ray said quietly.
“And I also remember the dark days after
Evie was taken, when I started drinking scotch
instead of water, when Stephen divorced me
for sleeping with everything that moved, and
the university dumped me for corrupting one
my students.”
“We don’t have to hit every pothole on
memory lane, Keri.”
“I’m just saying, who was it that pulled
me out of that pit of self-loathing, dusted
me off, and got me to apply to the police
academy?”
“That would be me,” Ray whispered softly.
“That’s right,” Keri murmured in agreement.
“See? Knight in shining armor.”
She rested her head on his chest, allowing
herself to relax, to ease into the rhythm
of his breathing as he slowly inhaled and
exhaled. As her lids became heavy and she
drifted off into sleep, one last coherent
thought passed through her head: Ray hadn’t
actually ordered two police cars to patrol
the neighborhood. She’d checked out the
window as she’d changed earlier and counted
at least four units. And that was just what
she could see.
She hoped it was enough.
CHAPTER NINE
Keri gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying
not to let the sharp curves of the mountain
road make her more nervous than she already
was. It was 7:45 a.m., just over sixteen hours
until her daughter was supposed to be ritually
sacrificed in front of dozens of wealthy pedophiles.
She was driving through the winding Malibu
hills on a chilly but clear and sunny January
Saturday morning to the home of Jackson Cave.
She hoped to convince him to return her daughter
safely to her. If she couldn’t, this would
be the last day of Evie Locke’s life.
Keri and Ray had woken up early, just after
6 a.m. She hadn’t been very hungry but Ray
had insisted she force down some scrambled
eggs and toast to go with her two cups of
coffee. They were out of the apartment by
seven.
Ray spoke briefly to one of the patrol officers
outside, who said that none of the units had
reported any suspicious activity during the
night. He thanked them and sent them on their
way. Then he and Keri got in their cars and
drove separately to Malibu.
At that hour on a Saturday morning, the normally
clogged Los Angeles roads were virtually empty.
Within twenty minutes, they were on the Pacific
Coast Highway, catching the last remnants
of the sunrise over the Santa Monica Mountains.
By the time Keri was white-knuckling it up
Tuna Canyon Road high in the Malibu hills,
the splendor of the morning had given way
to the grim reality of what she had to do.
Her GPS indicated she was close to Cave’s
place so she pulled over. Ray, who was right
behind her, eased up next to her.
“I think it’s right up past the next bend,”
she said through the open car window. “Why
don’t you go ahead and set up a little further
down the road. He’s the type of guy who
will have surveillance cameras all around
so we don’t want to be driving up there
together.”
“Okay,” Ray agreed. “The cell service
is really spotty up here so once you’re
done I’ll just follow you back down the
hill and we can debrief at that diner we passed
at the PCH turnoff. Sound good?”
“Sounds like a plan. Wish me luck, partner.”
“Good luck, Keri,” he said sincerely.
“I really hope this works.”
She nodded, not really able to think of a
meaningful reply at that moment. Ray gave
her a little smile and drove on ahead. Keri
waited another minute, then eased her foot
onto the gas pedal and made the last curve
before Cave’s house.
When it came into view, she was surprised
to find it looked modest compared to other
homes in the area, at least from the street.
The place had a bungalow appearance to it,
almost like an elaborate version of something
one might find at a South Seas resort.
Then again, she knew this wasn’t even Cave’s
main Los Angeles residence. He had a mansion
in the Hollywood Hills, which was much more
conveniently located to his downtown high-rise
office. But it was common knowledge that he
liked to spend his weekends at his Malibu
“retreat,” and she’d checked around
to make sure that was where he’d be this
morning.
Keri pulled into the short gravel driveway
just off the road and hopped out. She walked
slowly up to the security gate, taking in
the impressive privacy measures Cave had employed.
The house might not be massive but the safety
precautions were. The gate itself was wrought-iron
and easily fifteen feet high, with curled
spikes that pointed outward toward the street.
A twenty-foot, ivy-covered stone wall surrounded
the property as far as the eye could see,
with what appeared to be three additional
feet of electrified fencing above that. She
counted at least five cameras mounted on the
walls and attached to high branches of several
trees just inside the property.
Keri pushed the “call” button on the keypad
next to the gate and waited.
“May I help you?” a middle-aged female
voice asked.
“Yes, Keri Locke here to see Jackson Cave.”
“Does Mr. Cave know you’re coming, Ms.
Locke?” the voice asked.
“I doubt it,” Keri said. “But I suspect
he’ll still be willing to see me.”
“Just a moment, please.”
Keri stood by the gate for another thirty
seconds, staring at the ocean in the distance,
listening to the wind whistle through the
leaves of the trees. She hadn’t seen a single
car pass by in the time she’d been there.
“Please come in,” the voice finally said
as the heavy gate slowly creaked open.
Keri drove her car just inside the gate, parked,
and walked toward the front door of the bungalow.
As she got closer, she saw that her initial
impression of the place had been wrong.
What had appeared to be an unassuming one-story
cottage on a cliff overlooking the Pacific
was actually a multi-tiered home built into
the cliff itself. From where she stood, she
could see at least three floors and an indoor/outdoor
pool, but it was possible there were even
more below.
The front door opened and Jackson Cave stepped
out to greet her. Apparently he was just finishing
up a call as he was putting his phone in his
in pants pocket. It was not quite 8 a.m. on
a Saturday morning and yet he looked immaculate.
His thick black hair, with sunglasses nestled
softly in it, was already slickly combed back
like he was channeling Gordon Gekko in Wall
Street.
He wore tight, light blue jeans, a black sweater
rolled up to his elbows to reveal his wiry,
tanned forearms, and laceless black loafers.
He smiled at her with his disturbingly white
teeth, which made his over-bronzed face seem
even more unnatural. His smile always came
across as a sneer but that might just have
been for her. Maybe he had a more genuine
smile for other people. Somehow she doubted
it.
“Detective Locke,” he said, spreading
his arms wide in welcome, “had I known you’d
be stopping by, I would have prepared breakfast.”
His voice dripped with all its usual smarm,
but she noticed something she rarely saw in
his piercing blue eyes—uncertainty. He didn’t
have any idea why she was here. She had him
off-balance.
She was tempted to come back at him with a
snarky reply. It was her default position.
She was as good at getting under his skin
as he was at infuriating her. But that wasn’t
the goal today. She needed to appeal to, if
not his sympathy, at least his self-interest.
She needed to persuade him that if he was
able to return Evie to her, she would leave
him be. She needed to convince him that she
was not his enemy; that she was not, as Anderson
had put it, the “bad guy.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cave,” she said, trying
to sound pleasant but not unctuous. “That’s
very kind. But I actually already ate—pounded
back two coffees too.”
“Ah, well come in then,” he said, visibly
surprised by her innocuous reply. He’d clearly
been expecting something more biting. “You
can tell me what brought you so far west so
early on a weekend morning.”
He held the door open for her and she stepped
inside a vast living room that was as warm
and welcoming as Cave was not. The Polynesian-themed
design with bamboo-style paneling was charming,
as was the wicker-inspired furniture and the
open indoor fire pit. The entire room was
windowed with views of the ocean and mountains
in every direction.
“This place is gorgeous,” she marveled
despite herself.
“Thank you,” he said. “I designed it
in conjunction with a hotel magnate client
from Fiji. He builds private estates in this
style over there. This is a hut to him.”
“If I were you, I’d live here all the
time,” Keri said, meaning it.
“Bit of a commute though,” he said, unable
to keep the sarcasm from dripping into his
voice.
Keri bit back the urge to suggest he just
have a helipad built. It would be counterproductive
and it was possible he already had. Instead,
she looked around the parts of the house that
were visible. The kitchen was massive, with
a center island larger than her entire apartment
kitchen. Part of a dining room could be seen
off in a corner with a table that looked to
be made of marble.
She saw a hallway that must have led back
to the bedroom wing and thought she heard
voices coming from that direction. A Hispanic
woman in her forties with her hair tied back
in a bun opened a sliding door and stepped
inside from the small deck.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” she
asked, and Keri recognized the voice from
the gate intercom.
“No thank you. I’m good.”
She smiled and then turned to Cave.
“Mr. Cave, I was going to go back and make
sure your other guest is doing all right?”
“That’s fine, Gracie,” he said as she
headed for the hallway. He turned to Keri.
“Please sit down. I had a client over for
dinner last night. It got late so I let him
stay in the guest room overnight. I think
he’s just starting to stir.”
“Ah, I thought I heard something back there,”
she said as she sat in one of the wicker chairs.
“He might have been talking in his sleep.
Or maybe it was his stomach growling.”
He cackled at that last line. Keri didn’t
get it. He seemed to realize he had breached
the decorum of the moment and snapped back
into character almost immediately.
“Well, Detective Locke,” he said, more
reserved now as he sat down opposite her,
“I have to say, this has been our least…combative
conversation in recent memory. Care to end
the suspense and tell me why we’re both
minding our P’s and Q’s?”
Keri took a deep breath.
This is it. The sink or swim moment. Make
it a good one, Keri.
“Okay, Mr. Cave. I’m going to tell you
why I’m here. But when I do, I’d like
you to open yourself up to the possibility
that what I’m saying is true, that my intentions
are genuine, and that I don’t have any kind
of angle.”
“Are you suggesting, Detective Locke, that
you haven’t always been forthright in your
dealings with me?” he asked almost coquettishly,
leaning in. He clearly didn’t buy what she
was selling.
 “I am. I’m telling you that I haven’t
always been straight with you, just as you
haven’t always been totally honest with
me. We’ve been playing this game for a while,
now, Jackson. But it’s a really dangerous
game. And I’m tired of playing. I just want
to go home. And here’s the thing. I want
to take my little girl home with me.”
Cave pulled back suddenly at the words “little
girl” and the playful smile disappeared
from his lips.
“I have no idea what you’re talkin…”
he started but Keri held up her hand.
“It’s okay,” she said, making sure to
keep her voice calm and free of blame. “I’m
not accusing you of anything. I think we got
off on the wrong foot way back when. You represented
Alan Pachanga, a child abductor who had kidnapped
a missing girl I was after. As you know, my
daughter, Evie, was abducted as well.”
Cave flinched but didn’t speak. Keri considered
that a good sign and continued before he changed
his mind.
“And I think I poured all my vitriol about
losing her onto you because you were defending
a man who kidnapped children and my daughter
was kidnapped. That wasn’t fair to you.
You were just doing your job, after all. I
think I fixated on you for a while as being
part of my problem, blaming you for everything
that was going wrong in my life, when it wasn’t
really about you at all. You were just someone
to project my own fears and frustrations on,
you know?”
Cave settled back into his chair, letting
her words sink in. The creak of the wicker
was almost comforting as it broke what was
otherwise complete silence. He was squinting
at her, almost as if there was a glare coming
off her. Keri didn’t know what to make of
it. Finally he spoke.
“I have to say, this comes as a surprise
to me, Detective,” he said, his voice a
mixture of suspicion and bewilderment. “And
you’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit
skeptical. After all, for the last year, you’ve
been hounding me, interfering with my business,
casting aspersions on my character. I have
reason to believe you may have even committed
a crime by breaking into my offices and stealing
confidential files. And now you’re telling
me that you’ve had this epiphany and that
you see that I’m not really so bad and you’ve
misjudged me?”
“No, I wouldn’t go that far,” Keri admitted.
“We’re laying our cards on the table here,
right, Jackson? I don’t think I’ve misjudged
you. I know the kind of people you work for
and I’m not a fan. I know what your business
is. We can at least be honest with each other
about that. What I’m saying is the fact
that you defend people I find reprehensible
doesn’t mean you are responsible for the
abduction of my daughter or anything that’s
happened to her since. They can be separate
things. And I want you to know that I lost
sight of that for a while. But I see it now.”
“And what gave you this sudden insight?’
he asked, acid-tongued, not realizing that
even asking the question suggested vulnerability.
Keri took another deep breath. This was her
last card to play. If it didn’t work, if
he didn’t fold, she feared she was done
for.
“Coy Trembley,” she said quietly.
“Who?” he asked, though his eyes grew
wide with recognition.
“Your half-brother, Coy Trembley.”
“How do you know about him?” he demanded,
looking around the empty room of his secluded
mountain retreat as if someone might overhear.
“I was doing research on you and I came
across the case. I figured out what happened,
Jackson. Once I understood that case, the
accusations he faced, what ultimately happened
to him, it made it a lot easier for me to
understand why you do what you do.”
“You’re working me,” he said unconvincingly.
“No, Jackson. I get it. I understand that
you saw your brother wrongfully accused of
a terrible crime and decided to dedicate yourself
to ensuring that didn’t happen to other
people. As the mother of an abducted girl,
I hope you realize that not all those who
are accused are innocent. But I also have
to accept that you’re doing this because,
in and among the guilty, are some innocents.
And there aren’t very many people willing
to put themselves on the line to defend them.
You’re one of those people, Jackson. And
I respect that, even though it’s hard. Sometimes
it’s really hard, especially when the guilty
go free. You can see why it’s hard for me,
right?”
“I know it can’t have been easy for you
all these years,” he conceded.
“Thank you for that,” she said. “I think
that’s the first step here—for us to stop
seeing each other as the enemy. I mean, sure,
professionally, we’re on opposite sides.
But I had to stop thinking of you—the person,
Jackson—as the bad guy and just start seeing
you as a man doing his job to the best of
his ability.”
“I am trying to do my job,” he said.
“I know that. I just lost sight of it for
a while. And I hope that you can stop seeing
me as the bad guy. I’m not your enemy. I
don’t want to bring you down. I accept that
I will win some cases and lose some and that
you and your law firm will exist independent
of that. My focus is no longer going to be
on you. Hell, I’m not even sure I’m going
to stay on the force much longer.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“The truth is, I’m kind of burned out,
Jackson. I did this all to help people, sure.
But it was also a way to find my daughter.
If I could just do that, the rest of it would
just kind of fade away, you know. Because
I know she’s still out there and all I want
is to be with her again. Part of me would
like to try to go back to just being a mom,
making lunches and volunteering in art class.
If I had that, being a cop wouldn’t seem
so important anymore.”
Cave looked at her closely. He seemed to be
studying her. Beyond that, she couldn’t
read his expression. She couldn’t tell if
he believed her or not or if he even cared.
“So what exactly is it you’re asking of
me, Detective Locke?” he said.
“I’m asking if you could put the word
out. I know you have many clients who know
many people. I’m hoping one of them might
know where Evie is and might be willing to
convey to whoever has her to simply drop her
off at the closest precinct or bus station
or whatever. I just want my daughter back.
I won’t investigate who took her. I won’t
open a case. Hell, I’ll even turn in my
badge if that’ll make a difference. I’m
asking you to please let people know that.
Tell anyone you think might know anyone who
knows anyone who knows anything about where
she might be. Wouldn’t it be nice to be
on the same side for once, Jackson?”
A clatter from the hallway grabbed their attention.
Gracie was assisting an obese man in his sixties
wearing a robe far too small for him into
the living room. His purple briefs were poking
out below the belt and a bird’s nest of
mottled chest hair was exposed above. He looked
half-awake and hung over. At least now Keri
understood Cave’s joke about the growling
stomach.
His small remaining tufts of gray hair stood
up like mini-Mohawks atop his head. His face
was ashen and he had deep creases in his face
and multiple chins. His eyes were tiny black
dots. He looked vaguely familiar. When he
saw Keri, his eyes widened a bit and he made
a clumsy attempt to cover himself up.
“Detective Locke,” Cave said, assuming
the vocal stylings of a dinner party host,
“this is Herbert Wasson, the chairman of
the Wasson Media Group. Herb, this is Detective
Keri Locke of the LAPD.”
“Nice to meet you,” Wasson mumbled. “Didn’t
expect others.”
“It’s all right,” Keri said. “I was
just going anyway.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Cave said and they
both stood up.
“Nice to meet you too,” Keri said to Wasson
as she headed toward the door.
“Yeah,” the man replied. He seemed to
want to say something else but couldn’t
think of anything appropriate and instead
plopped down on the loveseat with his legs
splayed out.
“Thank you for stopping by, Detective,”
Cave said, now officially back in controlled
mode.
“Thanks for hearing me out, Jackson,”
she said, trying to keep the personal connection
alive. “And let’s both try to remember
to see each other not as the enemy but as
two people just trying to get by. I think
it would lower both our blood pressures a
lot, don’t you think?”
“You’d be surprised what a consistent
regimen of long-distance running can do for
your blood pressure, Detective. I swear by
it.”
“I’ll keep that idea in mind,” Keri
said as warmly as she could. “Thanks, Jackson.
And please don’t forget what I said about
reaching out to people you know. I’d really
appreciate it. I’m just looking for a fresh
start, you know?”
“I know you are,” he replied, his voice
even, his eyes cold. “Thanks again for stopping
by, Detective.”
“Please, call me Keri.”
“Okay then. Now be careful heading back
down the hill. Some of those turns are really
sharp, Detective.”
He closed the door before Keri could respond.
As she walked back to her car one thing was
clear. She hadn’t sold him. He still viewed
her as the enemy. And her daughter was still
destined to pay for it.
CHAPTER TEN
Keri should have sensed something was wrong
earlier.
But she was lost in thought on the drive back
down the hill. All she could think about was
how Cave had called her “Detective” right
after she’d said he could call her Keri.
She thought of how his eyes had gone cold,
as if he’d intentionally squeezed the humanity
out of them.
As she navigated the sharp twists and turns
of the switchback road, she wondered if she’d
ever connected with any part of him, if there’d
ever been a chance that he might return Evie
to her. It had seemed for a half moment that
he might. But then it was gone. And she was
certain she’d never get that moment back.
She refused to think about what that meant
for her daughter.
As she banked sharply left, Keri realized
she was riding the gas way too hard and pumped
the brakes. The speed limit sign read “20”
and she’d been pushing forty, far too fast
even when her head was clear. The car behind
her slowed down too, as if chastened by her
return to sanity.
She looked farther in the distance of her
rearview mirror but didn’t see Ray. That
wasn’t a shock. It was hard to see too far
back with all these hairpin turns. And she’d
been going so fast that it would have been
hard for him to keep up anyway. But the car
behind her was doing a pretty decent job of
it.
And that’s when the feeling that something
was off hit her. She looked at the car in
the mirror again, and though she couldn’t
place it, something about it felt familiar.
It was scratching an itch in the back of her
head that she just couldn’t quite reach.
 Now that she thought about it, it was also
the only other car she’d seen on the road
since she’d left Cave’s place. And there
was the strange, simple fact that it was so
close. Cars rode each other’s bumpers all
the time in LA, even in the mountains. But
this wasn’t that. The car behind her didn’t
seem like it was riding close behind in an
attempt to pass her. It seemed like it just
wanted to stay close, to keep her in sight,
to not lose her.
Keri tried to get a good look at the driver
but the sun visor was down and all she could
tell was that the person was wearing black.
She was surprised that whoever it was could
even see out the front with the visor in the
way.
She banked hard right at the next curve and
got a good look at the body of the car in
her side view mirror. That’s when the itch
in the back of her head tumbled to the center
of her brain.
The vehicle was a black Lincoln Continental,
and even with the curves and the speed, she
could see it had no front license plate. Her
mind flashed back to the security footage
she’d seen months earlier, as a man in a
ski mask got out of a similar-looking car
with no plates, snuck up along the driver’s
side of a van, and put a bullet in the head
of the driver.
After that, he’d dragged a teenage girl
out of the back of the van and forced her
into his trunk before driving off. The girl
was Evie. The man who’d been shot had been
keeping her in his home for over a year. And
the shooter was the infamous Black Widower,
assassin-for-hire.
This was the mystery man that Mags had told
her cleaned up the messes of the rich and
powerful, including Jackson Cave. He was also
the man who, for thousands of dollars, had
anonymously given Keri a lead on Evie’s
potential whereabouts. He didn’t seem picky
about his clients, as long as he got paid
and kept his identity secret from everyone.
Apparently this morning, Cave had hired him
again.
Keri glanced at her GPS and saw that it was
still a good two miles before she would reach
the diner at the bottom of the hill where
she was supposed to meet up with Ray, who
was still nowhere to be found behind her.
Her phone still had no signal.
A creeping sense that the situation was about
to escalate came over her. Cave had obviously
decided that not only would he not be making
peace with her, he was going to ensure that
she couldn’t cause him any more trouble,
ever. And this time he wasn’t sending two
suited goons. He was sending a professional
killer.
 What worried Keri most about this situation
was that she wasn’t prepared for it at all.
If the Black Widower was behind her now, did
that mean that he’d been at Cave’s house
when she was there? Was she just unlucky that
he was already there to discuss some pending
assignment to take someone out—maybe her?
He had to have been close by. It wasn’t
like he could have zipped out to Malibu on
a whim if Cave had called him ten minutes
prior. Was he the person who Cave had been
on the phone with when she arrived? Or had
he simply followed her and Ray all the way
out here from the city?
 Keri forced those questions out of her head
to focus on the more immediate problem. The
Black Widower was behind her. And that meant
that while she was in that beautiful living
room, politely asking Jackson Cave to spare
her daughter’s life, a professional assassin
had been outside, using his skills to prepare
to eliminate her. And until just now, she’d
been oblivious to it. Had he tampered with
her car while she was inside? How long had
he been tailing her before he’d gotten this
close behind her? Was he preparing to ram
her from behind at the next turn?
As she rounded out of the latest curve into
a brief straightaway, she saw a turnout area
off to the right and decided to take matters
into her own hands. Without signaling to warn
him, she pulled over to allow the Lincoln
to pass her, taking her foot off the accelerator.
Looking in the rearview mirror, she saw that
the Lincoln had slowed as well.
At least he’s not planning to ram me.
Keri pressed on the brake, hoping to force
him to pass her or stop completely. But nothing
happened. She pumped harder but it only took
her a fraction of a second to process that
this was the Black Widower’s doing. He had
sabotaged her brake line and simply waited
for a good time to blow it. Since she’d
made him, this was apparently it.
The end of the turnout was coming up fast
and she yanked the steering wheel hard to
the left to get back on the road. Nothing
happened. The wheel had locked in place, likely
the Black Widower’s doing as well. She was
headed for the cliff edge at twenty-five miles
an hour and there was nothing she could do
to stop it.
The abyss was less than fifteen feet away.
Without hesitation, Keri opened the unlocked
door with her left hand as she undid her seat
belt with her right. She grabbed the outer
frame of the car and used it to propel herself
out and away, even as she felt the front of
the vehicle start to topple over the edge.
She landed hard on the turnout asphalt but
only stayed there for a moment. Her momentum
almost immediately pulled her backward toward
the cliff and she found herself rolling quickly
off the asphalt, onto a clump of weeds and
dirt and then over a small hump of rock debris
that slowed her briefly before she felt herself
start to fall, with nothing beneath her.
Disoriented, she reached up and flailed desperately
for anything to hold onto. Her hands clutched
some wild plants before slipping and landing
on a jagged rock. Her fingertips gripped it
tight and managed to slow her downward motion
for a second before the rock came loose from
the dirt and she began to slide downward again.
She grasped at anything on the side of the
cliff as she shoved her feet inward, hoping
to lodge them against something solid. Her
left toe stuck in a hole as her hands clutched
at several more plants growing out of the
side of the rock face. Her momentum stopped.
Keri took advantage of the moment. Ignoring
the piles of dirt raining on her from above,
which made seeing and breathing clearly nearly
impossible, and pretending her entire body
wasn’t crying out in agony and fear, she
looked down.
Her car was still tumbling down what looked
to be about 1,200 more feet of near-sheer
canyon. The drop-off directly below her was
about 150 feet of empty space before a shelf
of sharp rocks that would turn her into a
pulpy mess if she landed in it.
She could already feel the plants she was
holding onto start to strain at their roots
and her tentative toe-hold beginning to give
way. It was a good five feet back up to the
lip of the cliff, but even if she could make
it, what was the point? That was where the
Black Widower was, likely approaching her
position right now.
Glancing down to her right, Keri saw a small
rock outcropping about the size of a square-ish
bale of hay jutting out from the side of the
cliff. It was at least a seven-foot drop and
she might easily slip off it if she didn’t
get a good grip right away. But if she landed
just right, she was pretty sure it would support
her weight.
But to get to it, she had to jump to the right
and that meant pushing off from her already
tenuous position. Still, she had no choice.
Her grip was failing, the plants were definitely
giving way, and she could feel the dirt crumbling
in the hole where her shoe was jammed.
Allowing herself one deep breath to regroup,
Keri sucked in all the air she could without
screaming in pain and then pushed off hard
again with her left foot and her hands. As
she plummeted across empty space, feeling
the freezing canyon wind whip against her
sweat-covered body, Keri kept her eyes focused
on nothing but the outcropping, ignoring the
hundreds of feet of nothingness that surrounded
it.
She saw almost right away that she was going
to make it far enough but that her landing
would be especially hard. Unfortunately, she
had no choice but to take the full brunt of
the impact across her torso. If she curled
up to protect herself, she worried that she
might bounce right off and continue down to
the rocks below.
So she spread herself out like an upside down
U and allowed her body to collapse onto to
the outcropping and absorb the force of the
collision. As the rock knocked the wind out
of her and she felt a surge of pain in her
chest, Keri squeezed one side of the outcropping
with her upper arms and elbows and the other
side with her upper legs.
When she was sure the rock wasn’t going
to break free from the side of the cliff,
she opened her eyes, pulled her knees up onto
the outcropping, and slowly rolled over so
that she was actually sitting on the small
rock ledge, with her back against the cliff
wall. For the moment at least, despite everything,
she was alive.
“How’s it going down there?” a disturbingly
casual voice called out from above her.
Keri tried to look up but realized that at
her angle, she could only see the top of the
head of the person talking to her. The one
good thing was that meant it was also likely
hard for him to see, and therefore shoot,
her.
“Peachy,” she yelled back and almost immediately
wished she hadn’t. The adrenaline from the
last thirty seconds, as she had gone from
near-death to something approaching temporary
safety, had started to fade. And as it did,
shock waves of pain hit her.
Her chest burned as the words escaped her
mouth, as if the simple pressure of air against
her battered ribs and lungs was too much to
take. The casual slacks she wore were ripped
from thigh to shin and some of the pants material
had embedded in her knees where she’d landed
on the asphalt after jumping from the car.
It was hard to tell where the bloody clothing
ended and the shredded skin began.
She noticed that one of her shoes was missing.
Underneath the layer of bloody dirt, she saw
that her hands were completely raw and that
she had lost several fingernails. And blood
was dripping pretty generously onto her jacket
from somewhere on the right side of her face.
“I’m really sorry about this, Detective,”
she heard the voice call from up above. She
didn’t even try to look up this time as
her neck hurt when she arched it. “When
I heard you were my next assignment, I was
genuinely disappointed. And in my line of
work, I almost never have an emotional reaction
to an assignment.”
Keri considered trying to come up with a line
that might play into that emotion, to get
him to reconsider. But she knew it was pointless.
Feeling bad about the job didn’t mean he
wouldn’t do it. Besides, she was too exhausted
to say anything anyway.
“I’ve always been an admirer of your…gumption,”
he continued.
The voice sounded slightly different now.
Despite the pain, Keri forced herself to look
to up and almost wished she hadn’t. She
realized he sounded different because he was
closer.
He had attached a rope to the rock above and
had started to edge down the cliff side, about
three feet from the top. He wasn’t properly
tied in and obviously had no intention of
coming all the way down to her spot, another
ten feet below. He was just trying to get
a better angle from which to shoot her.
“Can’t you just let me freeze to death?”
she asked bitterly.
“That wouldn’t be very professional,”
he replied, as she watched him wrap the rope
around his left forearm several times while
reaching into his waistband with his right
hand for what she assumed was his gun.
His gun.
That’s when Keri remembered that, although
she’d left her primary weapon in her glove
compartment when she’d gone into Cave’s
house, she still had her ankle pistol.
As quickly as she could, Keri leaned over,
ignoring the shooting twinge in her midsection
as she reached for her ankle. But when she
pulled up what was left of her pant leg, the
holster was gone. It must have gotten ripped
off at some point during the whole car-jump
cliff-fall thing.
She looked up at the Black Widower, who was
smiling down at her as he pointed his gun
at her. She could see his face clearly for
the first time. With his dirty blond hair
and his warm brown eyes, he was quite handsome.
“If you’re looking for your ankle piece,
I saw it up on the road here. I guess it came
loose when you were tumbling toward the cliff.
Nice try though. Like I said, gumptio—”
Before he could say anything else, Keri heard
a pop and a thud. His body shuddered as a
spray of blood exploded from the general area
of his left shoulder. Then, ever so slowly,
he careened backward and his feet slipped
off the cliff side before he fell quickly
and suddenly downward, straight toward Keri.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
There was nowhere for Keri to go and almost
no time to react. Without even thinking about
it and all in one motion, she pressed her
back up against the cliff wall even harder
than before and dropped her legs on either
side of the outcropping, as if she was straddling
a horse.
A moment later, the Black Widower thudded
down on the rock, right where her knees had
just been. The force of the collision bounced
his body up a foot in the air before he toppled
over the edge and into the void.
Keri waited for him to tumble down but he
didn’t. Instead, he dangled there in midair,
only feet away from her, just slightly below
the outcropping. It took her a second to realize
that it was because the rope he’d wrapped
around his left forearm was still attached.
It had prevented him from falling to the canyon
floor but it had also yanked his arm and shoulder
into a grotesque, inhuman angle. In addition,
the left shoulder was seeping blood from what
was clearly a gunshot wound.
As he swung slowly away from her, he opened
his eyes and a soft moan escaped his lips.
His eyes were unfocused and he seemed disoriented,
trying to get his bearings. His body softly
bumped against the canyon wall and began to
sway back in her direction.
As he got closer, Keri noticed that he was
still somehow holding the gun. He didn’t
seem aware that it was in his hand. But if
his head cleared, and he chose to, he would
have a point-blank shot at her.
Rather than wait and hope, Keri forced her
throbbing body forward so that she was lying
flat on her stomach. When the Black Widower’s
momentum brought him within a foot of her,
she reached out and grabbed for the gun.
That seemed to jostle him into a more coherent
state of consciousness. His eyes cleared and
bored in on her as he tried to rip the weapon
free. But weakened by the fall, the damage
from his twisted arm and the gunshot wound,
he couldn’t wrestle it free.
But he didn’t need much strength to fire
the gun and after a few seconds of wrangling,
he seemed to register that his finger was
on the trigger. Keri saw his eyes widen and
knew what was about to happen. She heard the
click of the safety coming off and yanked
his arm down as he fired. The bullet slammed
into the rock outcropping, sending a cloud
of dust up into the air around them both.
Before he could fire a second shot, Keri jerked
his hand toward her, slamming the gun into
the rock. She felt it slip from his grasp
and bounce off the hard surface. Even though
she couldn’t see it, she knew it was on
its way to the bottom of the canyon.
She let go and the Black Widower swung away
from her again in that slow arc that bent
his left shoulder so far back she thought
it might actually snap off. He winced but
didn’t cry out.
“Keri!” she heard a voice call out desperately
from above. It was Ray.
She was about to respond when she saw the
Black Widower reach for something with his
right hand. As his body bumped against the
cliff side again, he pushed off hard with
both feet so that he would come back faster
this time.
Keri saw him rip open the Velcro on an exterior
pants pocket and pull out a six-inch hunting
knife. As he flew through the air toward her,
he tore off the sheath with his teeth, then
raised the knife high above his head.
Keri realized that his momentum would lift
him above the outcropping at the apex of his
swing. He would actually be higher than her
and able to jab the knife down at her as gravity
forced him back to the ground. Her only chance
was to somehow get upright again so she would
be in a better position to defend herself.
So, with a speed she didn’t know she was
capable of under the circumstances, she did
what was essentially a burpee on the canyon
outcropping, pushing up to her knees, then
leaping up and backward with such force that
her head slammed into the canyon wall behind
her.
Right as she felt that impact, she braced
for another one as the Black Widower swung
the knife at her. But in his weakened state
and with them now at equal height, she was
able to grab his wrist with both hands before
he could get the point close to her body.
They struggled there for a moment, him trying
to break free of her grasp, Keri attempting
to twist his wrist to force the knife loose.
She tried to brace her feet but they skidded
slightly on the sandy, gravelly surface. For
a second, she thought she might slip off the
ledge entirely.
“Keri, are you down there?” Ray screamed.
His voice had a tinge of desperation to it.
She wanted to reply, to reassure him that
she was safe. But the truth was, she wasn’t
safe. And she was too busy to talk.
Hearing the anguish in Ray’s voice seemed
to make the Black Widower happy. Keri saw
a twisted grimace come over his face. His
eyes gleamed with malice. Seeing that, Keri
felt bubbles of venom rise in her throat,
a fury she’d never experienced before. She
was sick of playing defense with this bastard.
This ends now.
Before she knew what she was doing, she had
dived forward and sunk her teeth deep into
the soft underside of the Widower’s right
wrist. She heard his scream as she clamped
down with all her might and ripped her head
back. As she did, she felt sinewy tendons
and cartilage and god knows what else come
with her.
The Black Widower let go of the knife and
she caught it in midair as it fell. As he
swung slowly away from her, howling in agony,
blood spewing from his ruined wrist, Keri
spit out whatever it was she’d taken from
him and called out to Ray.
“I’m down here. I’m okay…mostly.”
“Thank God,” he said. “I can’t see
you. What the hell is going on down there?”
“Just give me a minute to catch my breath,
Ray.”
With one hand holding the knife, she rested
the other on the canyon wall for support.
The rope eased slowly back toward her and
she was able to reach out and grab it. The
Black Widower, whose slumped frame was now
a few feet below hers, looked up at her.
He was pressing his wrist against his chest
to stem the bleeding but it wasn’t doing
much good. The blood coming from his shoulder
wound was oozing even more profusely than
before.
“Looks like my partner got you pretty good,”
Keri said, nodding at the gunshot.
“Flesh wound,” he responded through gritted,
bloody teeth.
“Yeah, I guess,” she agreed, partly admiring
his grim refusal to give an inch. “But you’ve
got a lot of them—the gunshot, the wrist,
the shoulder dislocated beyond comprehension.”
“I’ve recovered from worse,” he muttered.
Keri nodded. Her blind fury had faded. But
it had been replaced with a cold sense of
righteous vengeance. She grabbed the knife
in her right hand and held the rope taut with
the raw, swollen fingers of her left hand.
Slowly, she began to cut through the rope.
“You’re not recovering this time,” she
said softly.
“Don’t you want to know who hired me?”
he asked in what she knew was a desperate
bid to bide time.
“I already know who hired you,” she replied,
her eyes focused only on the rope.
He opened his mouth and for a second it looked
like he might try to convince her to stop.
But then he stopped himself. He sighed deeply
as if accepting his fate.
“I knew I shouldn’t have accepted this
assignment,” he finally said, more to himself
than to her.
“No,” Keri agreed, “you really shouldn’t
have.”
Then she gave the rope one last slice and
it cut loose. The Black Widower never made
a sound as he hurtled to the ground. A few
seconds later, she heard a sickening wet crunch
and knew that it was over. She had no desire
to look down.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ray was lowering the Black Widower’s climbing
harness down to Keri a couple of minutes later
when her car exploded. Even a quarter mile
above it, she could feel the hot gust of gasoline
air on her skin.
Despite the shock of it, there was nothing
for them to do but resume their efforts. Keri
was still perched dangerously on the small
rock outcropping. A major wind gust could
send her flying down to join the broken body
on the rocks below her. And with no cell service,
Ray would have had to go down to the main
road if he wanted to call for backup. They
couldn’t risk it.
So she strapped in and he pulled her slowly
up until she was over the lip of the cliff.
When she knew she was safe, Keri crawled over
and sprawled out next to Ray, who had collapsed
onto his back, teeming with sweat despite
the morning cold. They lay there on the asphalt
edge of the Tuna Canyon Road turnout until
they felt the strength to stand.
Ray helped Keri into the passenger’s seat
of his car before shuffling over to the driver’s
side. He got in and simply sat there, too
wiped out to start the car. After a good two
minutes, he turned and got his first good
look at her.
She saw his eyes grow wide as he took in her
ripped clothes, torn up legs, raw hands, and
dirty, blood-soaked face. She could still
taste bits of flesh from the wrist of the
man lying in the canyon below and could guess
what her mouth must look like, stained with
his blood.
“What the hell, Keri?” he finally asked.
“It was the Black Widower,” she told him.
“The assassin who killed the guy holding
Evie, the guy who gave me that lead about
the Vista without realizing it was me—Cave
had him try to take me out.”
“So I’m guessing your conversation with
Cave didn’t go as you hoped?” Ray said
wryly.
“No, it did not. For a moment there, I thought
it might. But then, not so much, as evidenced
by the whole hit man thing. I can fill you
in on all the details later. Right now, I
just need a few gallons of water and a whole
bottle of Advil.”
“All right,” Ray agreed. “Let’s head
down the hill to that diner. I think there
was a convenience store attached to it. I
need to get somewhere with a decent cell signal
anyway so I can call this in.”
“Actually, Ray, maybe you could hold off
on calling it in. I had an idea I wanted to
run by you.”
Ray squinted suspiciously at her and she knew
immediately that something in the tone of
her voice had given her away. Her proposal
was going to be trouble and Ray had picked
up on it immediately. He knew her too well—as
well as she knew him. And that’s why she
was pretty sure he was going to hate her idea.
*
As Keri had suspected, Ray hated her idea
with a passion. But in the end, he agreed
to go along with it. That was partly because
he didn’t have a better one. But she knew
it was mostly because he didn’t have the
heart to fight her, not when he looked at
her battered face and body and listened to
her say that despite it all, she needed to
push a little harder if it meant finding her
little girl.
When they’d reached the convenience store
at the corner of Tuna Canyon and the Pacific
Coast Highway, Ray called for a cab. Then
he’d gone into the store, gotten Keri two
thirty-two-ounce water bottles, a bear claw,
a bottle of Advil, and an extra large “Surf
Malibu” sweatshirt with a hoodie.
He’d helped her take off her bloody jacket
and put on the sweatshirt, even easing the
hood over her head so that it completely obscured
her face. When the taxi arrived, he helped
her in and gave the driver his address and
enough cash to cover the ride and a generous
tip.
Keri went over the plan in her head repeatedly
on the taxi ride back to his place. She wanted
to make sure she had everything clear so she
wouldn’t forget. But staying focused on
the plan also helped her ignore the pain that
lapped up at her every second she allowed
her mind to wander.
While Keri rode back to Ray’s place in silence,
he would call in the crash and attack. But
his version of events would differ a bit from
what actually happened. He would report that
he’d seen a man in a black Lincoln Continental
riding close behind Keri down the hill and
ultimately force her off the road at the turnout.
He’d seen Keri’s car go over the cliff,
then the driver of the Lincoln get out with
a gun and go to the edge of the cliff. He’d
shot the driver, who fell into the canyon.
When he looked over the side, he saw that
Keri’s car had exploded. He didn’t see
her body and assumed she must have been inside
the vehicle when it exploded.
Ray had especially disliked this part of the
plan but Keri had convinced him that it might
actually be to their advantage for her to
be “dead,” or at least for everyone, especially
Jackson Cave, to think she was.
For one thing, if everyone thought she had
already died, people would stop trying to
kill her. Keri especially liked that idea.
Her body was one big, pulsating bruise and
she needed at least a few hours to rest, if
not really recover.
Also, if there really was a mole in their
unit, as the Ghost had suggested, making the
entire team think she’d died would prevent
that mole from trying to determine what she
was up to and leaking it to their connection.
If she was dead, there was no reason to keep
looking for intelligence to pass along.
In addition, if Cave thought she was dead,
he might let his guard down. He wouldn’t
worry that she was coming after him and consider
moving the Vista or cancelling it outright.
She needed him to have the confidence to continue
with the plan, to continue with the event
that was supposed to lead to her daughter’s
death.
That was because, for the first time in a
long time, Keri felt she had the upper hand.
She was pretty sure she knew the identity
of at least one person who would be attending
the Vista tonight. And if she knew that, she
could determine where it would be held, which
meant she knew where Evie would be.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Who’s this guy again?” Mags asked,
as she dabbed a cotton ball at the cut on
Keri’s right temple. “The name sounds
familiar.”
Keri was sitting in Ray’s bathtub, soaking
her entire body in warm water and Epsom salt,
explaining the situation to her friend while
trying to pretend the sting of the salt in
her multiple open wounds didn’t bother her,
even though her eyes kept rimming involuntarily
with tears.
Mags had come over to Ray’s place about
an hour earlier after getting a call on one
of her burner cell phones from one he’d
just bought. As per Keri’s instructions,
he’d filled her in on the basics and asked
her to get to his apartment as quickly as
possible, with just one stop for a pickup
along the way.
Mags had done it all without question, making
the unusual pickup and showing up at Ray’s
with all manner of first aid materials. Within
minutes of her arrival, she was using tweezers
to pick bits of gray slacks out of Keri’s
kneecaps as her friend caught her up.
“His name is Herb Wasson,” Keri said.
“He runs the Wasson Media Group.”
“And what makes you so sure he’s connected
to the whole Vista thing?”
“It’s just a hunch,” Keri admitted,
“but a really strong one. The first thing
that made me suspicious was that I could sense
Cave wasn’t pleased that I saw Wasson. I
don’t think he wanted me to know he was
there.”
“That hardly seems like enough to go on,
sweetie,” Mags said gently, trying to curb
her investigative journalist instincts but
failing.
“On its own, that’s true. But the name
sounded familiar to me, and not just because
he’s some big mogul type. I let it go until
Cave had his assassin try to send me off a
cliff. As Ray was pulling me up afterward,
I got to thinking—up to this point, nothing
made Jackson Cave go to such desperate measures
to stop me until today. In the past, he’s
tried to have me investigated by Internal
Affairs and kicked off the force. Last night,
he even tried to have me assaulted and, I
assume, kidnapped. But it wasn’t until today
that something happened that made him decide
it wasn’t worth it to let me live. I think
that ‘something’ was me seeing Wasson.”
“What’s so significant about him?” Mags
asked, dabbing some balm on a particularly
torn up portion of skin on Keri’s left palm.
“He’s a pedophile. Or at the very least,
he travels in pedophile-friendly circles.”
“What do you mean?” Mags asked.
“Do you remember about six years ago, there
was a sex-trafficking ring that got busted
out of Croatia? They were trading in all kinds
of stuff, including underage prostitution.
Some of the girls were as young as seven.
Interpol broke it up, arrested over thirty
traffickers and about three hundred clients.”
“I remember,” Mags said. “They believed
the ring operated in something like eleven
countries.”
“Right,” Keri said. “There was also
talk that a number of the clients were high-profile
Americans who went to these countries to get
their kicks because they were so lax in enforcing
sex crimes. Wasson was rumored to be among
them. It was never proven. One newspaper was
going to run a story mentioning his name but
it was quashed when his lawyer threatened
a lawsuit.”
“How many guesses do I get as to the lawyer’s
name?” Mags asked bitterly.
“I think you’ll only need one. There’s
other stuff too. Things I’ve heard but never
been able to confirm. You hear so much about
so many people in this town that it all starts
to turn into noise after a while. You can’t
pursue everything, you know?”
“I know, darling,” Mags soothed. “It’s
hard enough for you to catch the people you
know are kidnapping children. Going after
the ones who are rumored to be abusing them
would be a second job altogether. Hold still,
this might hurt a bit.”
Before Keri could react, Mags tugged hard
with the tweezers, pulling out a chunk of
asphalt that had embedded deep in her upper
shin. Blood began seeping from the open hole
and Mags quickly pressed a bandage against
it.
“Ouch,” Keri muttered, almost as an afterthought.
“So,” Mags said, pretending not to hear
her, “assuming your hunch is right and this
Wasson guy is going to be at the Vista tonight,
what’s your plan? I gather with your concerns
about having a mole in your unit, you won’t
be asking for a police surveillance team.”
“That, my dear Margaret, is why I had you
make that pickup on your way over.”
“The pimply-faced boy from the mall sitting
out there in Ray’s living room right now?”
“That pimply-faced boy has a lot more going
for him than meets the eye,” Keri said protectively.
“Now, if you’ll help me get out of this
tub, dry off, get bandaged up, get dressed,
and hobble out there. I’ll make a proper
introduction.”
Twenty minutes later, Keri shuffled into the
living room, clutching tightly to Mags’s
forearm for support. The pimply-faced kid
sitting on the couch stood up to greet her.
He looked mostly as Keri remembered him, tall
and skinny with a slightly hunched over back.
But his skin, while still spotty, was less
so than before. And both it and his hair had
lost that greasy, shiny quality that came
from total inactivity and being permanently
indoors. She could tell he’d been at least
trying to work out.
He tried to hide his shock at her appearance
but his bulging eyes and paler than usual
skin suggested she had made the right choice
by not looking in the mirror before coming
out to see him.
“How’s it going, Keith?” she said, trying
to smile. “Long time, no see.”
“Oh my god, Detective Locke, what happened
to you?” the young man asked. “I saw on
the news the other day that you were released
and recovering at home. It looks like you
should be in intensive care.”
“Actually, I think I look pretty good, considering
I’m supposed to be dead.”
“What?” he asked, clearly confused.
“Have a seat, Keith. I’ll explain what’s
going on. And if you don’t mind, I’ll
sit too because I don’t think I can stand
much longer without collapsing.”
He did as she suggested and Mags helped her
to the hard-backed rocking chair beside the
couch and she eased herself into it.
“First things, first,” she said. “I’m
sure you two spoke on the way over here but
let me make some formal introductions. Keith
Fogerty, this is Margaret Merrywether—Mags
to her friends. She works over at Weekly L.A.
and she’s one of my closest friends in the
world.”
Keri noticed Mags give her an almost imperceptible
nod of thanks for not revealing what she did
for the Weekly. She liked to keep her “Mary
Brady” crusading columnist alter ego a secret
and divulging it to random mall employees
wouldn’t help with that.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Keith said
politely.
“Such manners,” Mags replied, turning
on the charm, Southern drawl in full effect.
She didn’t yet know who this kid was but
Keri knew that based on her say-so, her friend
was willing to give him the benefit of the
doubt, despite her skepticism.
“And Mags, this is Keith Fogerty. As you
already know from where you picked him up,
he works security over at Fox Hills Mall in
Culver City. You may recall I mentioned a
security guard who got me a good bug detector?
Well, this was him. But Keith was also instrumental
in helping us find Sarah Caldwell last fall.
I’m sure you remember her, the girl who
was kidnapped and taken to that brothel south
of Tijuana.”
“I remember her very well,” Mags said.
“Well, if it hadn’t been for Keith’s
assistance early in the case, we never would
have gotten our first lead. He’s a real
whiz with surveillance footage and technology
in general and went above and beyond to help
us out when we had hit a wall. I’m not sure
we would gotten to Sarah in time if not for
his help.”
“That’s very nice of you to say, Detective,”
Keith said, before turning his attention to
Mags. “What Detective Locke isn’t mentioning
is that I told her I wanted to apply to the
police academy. She helped me out, put me
in touch with a former instructor who tutored
me. She also sent me an online physical training
regimen and offered suggestions for how to
approach some of the application questions.
Because of what she did, I was accepted and
start next month.”
“Congratulations, Keith,” Mags said, properly
impressed.
“Thank you,” he said before turning back
to Keri. “Now that we’ve met each other,
can you please tell me what’s going on?
Because I have a feeling it’s very bad.”
Keri knew she couldn’t stall any longer.
She’d been hesitant to bring a twenty-three-year-old
kid with no experience into such a volatile
situation but she had no choice. So she told
him everything: about her search for Evie,
which he was generally familiar with; about
her ongoing conflict with Jackson Cave, who
had tried to have her killed this morning;
about the Vista tonight, where Evie was to
be sacrificed; about how she suspected a mole
in her unit, which meant she couldn’t go
to them for help for fear of tipping off Cave;
and finally about Herb Wasson, who she believed
could lead her to her daughter.
Keith sat quietly while she talked, not interrupting
once, occasionally looking overwhelmed but
mostly seeming to be taking it all in, trying
to process the details. That gave her hope.
When she finally finished, she looked at him
and waited to hear what he thought. He was
silent for a good ten seconds. When he did
finally speak, his voice was quiet but firm.
“What do you need me to do?” he asked.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Keri awoke with a start.
It took a few seconds for her to get her bearings
and remember where she was. Looking at the
alarm clock beside Ray’s bed, she saw that
it was 5:17 p.m. She’d been asleep for just
over four hours.
She lay there for a few minutes, allowing
her body and brain to recalibrate to consciousness.
The pain was already starting to worm itself
back into her bones and muscles, despite the
warmth of the bed covers.
Her head ached and her stomach felt raw and
empty. She realized she hadn’t eaten since
Mags and Keith had left. And even then, it
had only been chicken broth. She’d sipped
little portions of the soup as they went over
the plan one final time before Mags drove
Keith back to the mall. It seemed so long
ago.
Glancing at the mostly closed curtains, Keri
saw that it was already dark out. Ray couldn’t
safely communicate with her under the circumstances
but she suspected he’d be back soon, even
with all the paperwork associated with processing
the “death” of his partner, not to mention
navigating the endless stream of cops who
probably swarmed him upon learning the news.
The news. I should check out what the news
is saying.
With great effort, Keri pushed off the comforter
and rolled herself out of her prone position.
Sitting upright, she eased herself into one
of Ray’s bathrobes and grabbed the headboard
of his bed for support as she pulled herself
upright and eased her way into the living
room.
She made sure not to turn on any overhead
lights. After all, Ray lived alone and she
was supposedly dead. Anyone watching his place
might get suspicious if they saw lights going
on and off inside.
She turned the TV on low volume and sat down
in the rocking chair, which she knew she could
at least extricate herself from on her own.
After she switched to a local station, it
didn’t take long for her story to run. In
fact, it dominated every channel.
She watched for a few minutes, switching around
to see if anyone had anything unexpected.
But they all seemed to be sticking to the
official story: Keri Locke, celebrated but
controversial Missing Persons detective, who
joined the force after tragically losing her
own daughter to an abduction six years ago,
was run off a Malibu mountain road by an unidentified
assailant. She was believed to have died when
her vehicle exploded after falling over a
thousand feet to the canyon floor. Her partner,
Raymond Sands, in another car further back,
shot and killed the assailant but was unable
to rescue Locke.
Keri turned off the TV and sat quietly in
the semi-darkness.
If this plan doesn’t work, I may as well
be dead.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a key turning
in the door lock. She turned to see Ray, who
entered holding a bag from In-N-Out Burger.
“I figured you’d be famished,” he said
when he caught sight of her.
“My hero,” she said, batting her eyes
briefly before stopping because it actually
hurt. “How’d it go?”
“About how you’d expect. I managed to
get out of a lot of the bureaucratic stuff
because Hillman ‘knew we were close’ and
wanted to give me a day before I had to fill
out all the forms. I did fill out a formal
incident report but didn’t actually sign
or file it yet so I can’t be officially
charged with filing a false police report.
A lot of people came by but I told them all
I just needed some time alone and I’d talk
to them tomorrow. No one pressed me. I figured
that one way or another, I’ll be coming
clean then. How was your day, dear?”
Keri tried not to chuckle for fear of the
pain.
“Mostly just trying to survive it. Moving
has been hard. I just slept for a few hours,
which I’m hoping helps. And Mags left me
some Vicodin, which I plan to take before
our big outing.”
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Ray
asked as he opened the bag and placed a double
double with grilled onions on the table in
front of her.
“No, but we don’t really have a choice.
We don’t know who we can trust on the force
and there’s no one else I’d be willing
to put in a situation like this.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to bring
in Castillo?” Ray said. “You think she
might be dirty?”
“I don’t think she’s dirty, Ray. In
fact, she’s helped me out of several jams
off-book that make me almost positive that
she’s not the mole. But when it comes to
my one chance to save Evie, ‘almost positive’
isn’t good enough. I’m not taking any
chances.”
“Fair enough. What about your friend Uriel?”
he asked.
Uriel Magrev was Keri’s Krav Maga instructor.
But before moving to LA he had spent six years
in Shayetet 13, the Israeli Special Forces
version of Navy SEALS.
“He’d be a nice addition,” Keri acknowledged.
“Unfortunately, he’s currently visiting
family in Tel Aviv.”
“So it’s just you and me, then.”
“Don’t forget our surveillance expert,”
Keri said as she nearly inhaled a bite of
her burger. Something about eating regular
food gave her a jolt of well-being that temporarily
eased the soreness she felt everywhere.
“Yeah, you want to fill me in on his plan?”
Ray asked before taking a bite of his own
burger.
“I’ll do my best. Keith lost me occasionally
but I think I got the gist of it. Apparently
there are these things called taggants. There
are all kinds of variations and they get really
technical. He used words like nanocrystals
and quantum dots. My headache started getting
worse as he talked.”
“I actually feel one coming on now,” Ray
said.
“Anyway, smartass,” Keri continued, sticking
her tongue out. At least that didn’t hurt.
“This stuff is high-tech tracking technology,
so small that it can be placed on the subject
in the form of a dot or a liquid or digital
dust and the person would never know. Depending
on the substance, it can be placed on skin,
clothing, even a vehicle.”
“That sounds awesome,” Ray said. “Why
aren’t we using it in the department?”
“According to Keith, for a long time, the
military had a stranglehold on it. Drones
could apparently use it to identify a particular
enemy combatant inside a building from miles
away. Now some corporations are using it to
protect proprietary products and detect counterfeiting,
stuff like that. But it doesn’t come cheap.
And the LAPD doesn’t exactly have the resources
to invest in this sort of thing right now.
Plus there are the legal questions.”
“I’ll bet,” Ray said. “So are you
telling me that our local neighborhood mall
security guy has access to this stuff? Because
that’s a little scary.”
“No,” Keri said. “But he’s an enthusiast.
And when I told him I needed to track Herb
Wasson, that I needed to know where he was
going tonight and that my daughter’s life
depended on not losing him, this is what he
mentioned. Apparently he knows a guy who knows
a guy.”
“And how does he expect to secure this kind
of stuff, even if this guy is willing to meet
with him?”
“With the unlimited supply of money that
Southern heiress and well-heeled divorcee
Margaret Merrywether promised him.”
“Wow.”
“That’s what I said,” Keri agreed.
“So how do we know if he succeeded?” Ray
asked.
“We’ll know when we stop by the mall.”
“What?” Ray asked, incredulous.
“Keith said he would leave us some secure
communications equipment in the security office
at the Fox Hills Mall.”
“Keri, I have to tell you that when I woke
up this morning, I did not think that I would
be dealing with nanocrystals, mall security
guards, and a girlfriend who had been declared
dead but is currently munching on a double
double burger.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not all, loverboy.”
“What more could there possibly be?” he
asked.
“If I’m going to be even mildly functional
this evening, I’m going to need a little
assistance. So be a dear and fetch your dead
girlfriend a couple of Vicodin from the kitchen
counter.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Keri forced herself to stay still even though
every part of her wanted to run, to scream,
to do anything other than remain quiet and
motionless, as she had been for the last hour.
It was 10:22 p.m. and, despite everything,
she still wasn’t sure where the Vista was.
She had followed all of the agreed-upon precautions
and listened to all of Keith’s suggestions.
And yet here she was, still lying in the backseat
of Ray’s car, waiting for word on the location
of Herb Wasson and the future of her daughter.
It had been like this for over four hours.
After leaving Ray’s apartment around 6:15
p.m., they’d driven to the Fox Hills Mall,
where Ray picked up the fancy headsets Keith
left them at the security office. Then they
went to West Hollywood. Keri, who was supposed
to be dead, had to lie down in the backseat
the whole way so she wouldn’t be seen.
After Ray had spent ten minutes weaving through
traffic and was confident that he wasn’t
being followed, he handed Keri a headset and
put on one himself. They turned them on and
found Keith was already on the channel, ready
and waiting with updates for them.
He had good news. He’d managed to buy a
taggant and, after several failed attempts
through intermediaries, even secure it to
Herb Wasson himself. He’d apparently followed
Wasson all afternoon, including to the Boulevard
Lounge at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, where
the man had a meeting with some film director.
Keith had applied it to Wasson himself when
he “accidentally” bumped into him as the
older man was leaving the restroom, rubbing
it on his sweater and the back of his neck.
And while it was working as promised, sending
out a signal that Keith could track on his
laptop, the Hollywood Hills themselves were
complicating matters. Every time the limo
Wasson was currently a passenger in rounded
a curve and a huge section of mountainous
rock separated Wasson from Keith’s surveillance
equipment, he would temporarily lose the signal.
It was slow going.
So now Keri lay in the back seat of Ray’s
car, which was parked in a strip mall at the
base of Hollywood Hills near the corner of
Sunset and Fairfax. She and Ray, who was seated
in the driver’s seat, listened as Keith
gave them a running commentary of his slow-motion
pursuit of Wasson’s limousine, hoping it
was headed to the Vista.
Then, at 10:30 exactly, the line went silent.
Keri waited a minute before whispering to
Ray.
“Did we lose the connection?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied without
turning around. “I just think he’s gone
radio silent. Keith, are you still there?”
There was no response for another five minutes.
Keri felt the ball in the pit of her stomach
growing. She was worried Keith had been discovered
and was about to suggest they go up the hill
to look for him when his voice cut through
the silence.
“I found it,” he said. “I found the
Vista!”
“What?” both Keri and Ray shouted at the
same time.
“At least I think I did,” Keith said,
trying to rein in his enthusiasm without success.
“That’s why I was out of communication
for a bit. I wanted to make sure. But Wasson’s
limo just entered through a gate onto a private
estate. I could see at least two dozen other
vehicles on the property, along with tons
of security.”
“Were they armed?” Ray asked.
“I didn’t actually see any weapons but
I wouldn’t be surprised,” Keith said.
“I think they’re trying to blend in. They
were all wearing red blazers, like valets.
But they don’t look like valets, you know?
Lots of buzz cuts and broad shoulders with
purposeful expressions on their faces. All
wearing earpieces. They could easily have
guns under the jackets.”
“Anything else?” Keri asked.
“Yeah, they were using mirrors on poles
to check under the vehicles and checking both
drivers and passengers as they arrived. This
event is obviously not just your standard
Hollywood orgy.”
“Okay, great work, Keith,” Keri said.
“Send us the address and stay put. We’re
coming to you. We’re going to figure out
a way in on our way up there and get back
to you.”
She took off her headset and reached into
her bag for a bottled water, half a bagel,
and Mags’s Vicodin.
“What are you doing?” Ray asked.
“It looks like we’re about to get in gear
and I’d like to be mostly pain-free for
the festivities,” she said as she tossed
the pills in her mouth and swallowed.
“And the bagel?”
“Mags said the pain meds might upset my
stomach and that I should eat something.”
“That’s your focus right now?” Ray asked
incredulously.
“I don’t want to be crawling through bushes
with an upset stomach, Raymond.”
“Fine,” he replied, shaking his head.
“So how do you propose we get into those
bushes in the first place? It sounds like
accessing that estate is going to be impossible.”
“I have an idea for that,” Keri assured
him. “Let’s head up the hill and I’ll
fill you in on the way. My other concern is
what we’re going to do about backup if we
actually get in there and need help.”
“I have a plan for that,” Ray said, sounding
pleased with himself as he pulled out of the
parking lot and headed north on Fairfax toward
Hollywood Boulevard. “Would you like to
hear it?”
“Very much.” She appreciated that he was
trying to keep the tone light and tried to
match him. Otherwise the magnitude of the
situation threatened to overwhelm her.
“Now that we know the address of the Vista,
once we’re in position I’m going to call
in the LA County Sheriff’s Department. Since
West Hollywood doesn’t have their own police
department, they contract out with the Sheriff.
I’m going to reach out to their SWAT unit
to—”
“But if you do that, Cave’s mole might
tip him off,” Keri interrupted.
“May I please finish?” Ray said, pretending
to be offended.
“Sorry,” Keri muttered.
“I plan to call in a report of a meth lab
five blocks over from the Vista address. I’ll
say that it looks like a deal is going down
and that there are multiple armed men. The
address shouldn’t set off any alarms because
it’ll be a different street entirely.”
“Okay. Sounds good so far.”
 “Thanks for the approval,” Ray said
snarkily as he turned left from Fairfaxonto
Hollywood. “When we’re actually ready
to make our move, I’ll call in the correct
report using my name and badge number. SWAT
should be less than three minutes out. Easy.”
“It’s not a terrible plan,” Keri admitted.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Care
to share your master plan?”
“Sure. We’re going to drive in right through
the main gate.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Keri couldn’t see Ray’s face from the
backseat but she could tell from his prolonged
silence that he didn’t love her idea.
She didn’t see why he was so apprehensive.
After all, pretty much the exact same plan
had worked to get them into the guarded Mexican
brothel they infiltrated to rescue Sarah Caldwell
only months earlier.
Admittedly, the security then had been much
more lax, those people didn’t have any real
concern about an intrusion, and Keri hadn’t
been borderline immobile and drugged up. But
the general principle still held. At least
that’s what she told herself as she got
back on the line to explain it to Keith.
He seemed more amenable to the plan but she
wasn’t sure if that was because it was a
good one or because he was clueless when it
came to this sort of thing. Either way, he
was up for it.
The practical effect of that was that for
the next several minutes, Ray sat parked on
a side street, watching the traffic on Laurel
Canyon Boulevard go north toward the Hollywood
Hills. Keri, sitting upright for the first
time in hours, watched the cars whiz by as
well.
After what felt like an eternity, Keri saw
a stretch limo pass them, dutifully following
the speed limit while all the cars around
it were speeding by.
“I think we may have a candidate,” she
said, pointing at the slow-moving vehicle.
“Got it,” Ray said, pulling out onto Laurel
Canyonand hitting the accelerator. It didn’t
take long to pass the limo. About a quarter
mile up, he turned right onto Laurelmont Drive.
If the limo was headed to the Vista, it would
almost certainly turn here as well.
“Approaching you now,” he said into his
headset as he saw Keith pull into the middle
of the road facing them and get out.
Ray swerved around him, driving up the road
another fifty yards before doing a U-turn
and looping back down the road. He pulled
over to the side of the road behind a large
SUV and got out immediately. Keri took longer
to extricate herself from the car, as she’d
been stuck in the backseat for so long and
unable to move much at all.
“I think they’re coming,” both of them
heard Keith say as they scurried down the
side of the road, keeping hidden behind the
cars parked along the street.
Sure enough, the stretch limo from below was
coming to a stop in front of Keith’s beat-up
fifteen-year-old Nissan Maxima, unable to
get past it on the narrow mountain road. The
driver lowered his window.
“Move your car, kid,” he said gruffly.
“I’d love to,” Keith relied, putting
on his most convincing, helpless millennial
voice. “But I think I rode over a nail or
something. I heard a pop and I’m worried
about driving down the steep hills at night.
Can you take a look?”
“Call the Auto Club. I have somewhere to
be.”
“I already did,” Keith said in an impressively
whiny tone. “They said they’d be at least
a half hour. Can you at least help me push
the car to the side of the road so I don’t
get hit while I wait?”
Keri heard the driver mutter a curse under
his breath and knew they had him. She nodded
to Ray and they both moved quickly into position.
As she skulked past several more cars to get
to the back of the limo, she heard the driver
tell whoever was in the backseat that he’d
be done in a minute. Then he got out and joined
Keith at the back of the Maxima. He was a
big guy, over six feet tall and African-American—perfect.
“I think if we just push it over there,”
Keith said, nodding at an open space between
two cars, “that should do it.”
“None of your tires look too bad, kid,”
the driver said, sounding slightly suspicious.
“I think the nail is holding in the air
but I don’t want to chance it, you know?
I can see you’re in a hurry, sir, and I
appreciate your help, so let’s just move
the car and you can be on your way.”
“Yeah, whatever,” the driver agreed.
They pushed the Maxima to the side and Keith
ran to the driver’s seat to hit the brakes
before it bumped into anything. Keri saw Ray
wait until the limo driver neared the edge
of the road, out of sight of any of his passengers,
to step out from the shadows and jam his gun
in the guy’s ribs. Over the headset, she
could hear him talking quietly.
“I need a ride to the party. Get me in without
any fuss and you walk away easy. Give me trouble
and you don’t ever walk again, maybe don’t
breathe again. You got me?”
She saw the driver nod.
“We’re going to walk back to the car.
You’ll drive. I’ll be in the passenger’s
seat. Is your privacy glass up?’
The guy nodded.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way. Are you
the regular driver for this customer or is
this a one-time thing?”
“I work for a service,” the driver said.
“I don’t know the client. This is my first
time driving him.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
They reached the car and got in, Ray making
sure to stay out of view of the rear passenger
windows.
“What’s your name, fella?” Ray asked.
Keri could no longer see him but his voice
sounded smooth as silk.
“Pete.”
“Pete, tell your client you’re sorry about
the delay and we’re about to get on our
way.”
Pete did as he was told.
“Now pop the trunk, Pete.”
Pete popped it and Keri moved quickly from
her hiding place, crawled into the trunk,
and pulled the top down.
“I’m in,” she whispered into her headset.
“Go ahead and drive, Pete,” she heard
Ray say.
As the car started up again, she heard Keith’s
voice over the headset comm.
“Good luck, you guys. I’ll be down here
if you need me.”
“Thanks, Keith,” Keri whispered as she
shimmied herself further back into the bowels
of the trunk.
She turned on her phone light briefly to look
around and found an old floor mat, which she
draped over herself. If she curled up into
the fetal position, it almost completely covered
her.
Something registered in the back of her brain
and for a second she couldn’t place it.
Then she turned on her phone light again and
realized what it was. The time was 11:02 p.m.
Evie was supposed to be dead in less than
an hour.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Getting through the gate was easier than they
expected. Pete had an extra chauffeur uniform
in the front, which Ray changed into on the
way up.
When Pete rolled down his window, the security
staff didn’t see anything unusual about
two imposing African-American drivers. Maybe
they were so used to their own clients having
extra security that it didn’t strike them
as odd that other folks would too. And since
the passenger was unaware of Ray’s existence,
he didn’t say anything when he was asked
to lower his window so they could confirm
his identity. They never even checked the
trunk.
After dropping off the client at the main
entrance, Pete was instructed to drive around
to the side where the other limos were waiting.
He did so. Keri listened quietly as Ray explained
how his evening would go.
“Pete, unfortunately, I’m going to have
to knock you out. Then I’m going to tie
you up and leave you in your car. My recommendation
is that even if you wake up, you pretend to
be unconscious. Don’t try to be a hero and
warn anyone, because you’d actually be warning
the bad guys. I’m a cop and what’s going
on here is bad news. If your client is here,
he’s a bad guy too. Your best bet is to
‘sleep’ through the whole thing. That
way, you have fewer questions to answer when
it’s all over. You understand?”
Pete didn’t respond but Keri gathered he
was nodding. A second later she heard a thud
that suggested he’d been knocked out.
“I’m going to secure this guy,” she
heard Ray say. “Then I’m going to find
out where I can take you where you’ll be
under the radar. There are a few people milling
about and I want to get the lay of the land
before popping the trunk. I’ll let you out
when I’m sure the coast is clear. You still
okay back there?”
“Peachy keen. I think the Vicodin is starting
to kick in.”
“That is super news, Keri,” he replied
with mock enthusiasm. “I’m glad you’re
starting to feel a little better. I just hope
you don’t start feeling too good.”
“Me too, actually.”
Five minutes later, the trunk door popped
and Ray appeared. He helped her out, threw
a heavy cloak over her shoulders, and guided
her through a side door and quickly down a
hall and into a small bathroom. Keri could
sense others in the area and kept her head
down until he closed the door behind them.
“So I asked around,” he said, making sure
the door was locked, “and it turns out we’ve
got some good news and some bad news.”
“Okay,” Keri replied hesitantly. “Why
do I get the feeling that even the good news
at an event like this is still pretty bad?”
“Because you are a very smart, intuitive
lady. The good news is that this party is
an ‘Eyes Wide Shut’ type situation. Everybody
is wearing masks. I guess fancy folks don’t
want to be formally identified at a special
occasion that involves child rape and murder.”
“I’m waiting for the good news, Ray.”
“The good news is that not only the guests
wear masks. The wait staff do too. They don’t
seem to realize the extent of what’s going
on here. They know it’s a sex party but
they seem oblivious to the ages of the girls.
A lot of them are actors and think this is
a role-playing event, so they’re just going
with it. Since they’re all disguised, you
can be too. You should be able to get around
without being identified.”
“That is great, assuming I can get my hands
on a mask and a uniform.”
“That’s the bad news. Getting a mask and
uniform isn’t a problem. In fact, I saw
a bunch of them hanging up in the women’s
dressing room down the hall. But the uniforms
are…revealing.”
“What exactly are you saying?” Keri asked
defensively.
“It’s just that, while I enjoy spending
long, uninterrupted stretches in the company
of your uncovered body, it is currently torn
all to shreds. People might notice. I mean,
some of your injuries from this morning are
still kind of oozing. I think if you go into
the main party area in lingerie serving crudités,
you’re going to draw some unwanted attention.”
Keri sighed deeply.
“Under normal circumstances,” she said,
“I would kick your ass. But you make a fair
point. And since this medication is definitely
kicking in and I’m starting to feel kind
of warm all over, I’m going to let your
impertinence go this one time. Maybe I’ll
just put on the outfit with a thin robe over
it and then search the house. I’m assuming
they’ll be keeping Evie somewhere away from
the main festivities. And that way, if someone
finds me, I can just claim I got lost.”
“Okay, Keri, but be careful,” Ray replied.
“You’ll have to hide your gun in one robe
pocket and the headset in the other. It’ll
look suspicious if someone sees you wandering
around in what amounts to a bikini with a
complicated piece of audio hardware on your
head.”
“Can I pipe in here?” Keith said over
their comms. “Keri, you can actually remove
the earpiece from the headset and still listen
to what we’re saying. It’s so small no
one will notice it. You won’t be able to
respond but at least Ray and I can keep you
updated.”
Keri and Ray exchanged looks and nodded.
“Good idea, Keith,” Keri said. “You
guys will just have to keep me looped in constantly.”
“Will do,” Keith assured her. “And as
long as I’m keeping you looped in, I wanted
to let you know, I have no idea who this house
belongs to. I’ve been doing some web searching
but everything comes back to a shell company.
The true owner is well hidden.”
“I wish I could say I’m shocked,” Keri
said. “But it makes sense. Anyone hosting
something like this would want layers of paperwork
hiding their involvement. But for the purposes
of calling in reinforcements, the address
is more important right now.”
“Agreed,” Ray said. “I’m going to
go get you one of those uniforms now. Hang
tight here.”
After he left, Keri locked the door and removed
the headset and gun, one of Ray’s extras.
Then she stripped naked and waited for him
to return. Staring in the bathroom mirror,
she saw what he was talking about.
While she was in pretty good shape these days
and could look at her unclothed body without
feeling too self-conscious, her body was riddled
with bruises, scrapes, cuts, scabs, and bandages
that were stained by seeping blood. The entire
right side of her face, from her temple down
to her lips, was scratched and purplish-blue.
Despite being nude, she looked like she was
prepping for a horror film more than a porn
shoot.
The only good thing was that the meds Mags
had given her had fully kicked in now. The
intensity of the situation had cut into the
warm feeling she’d felt earlier, so there
was no high or especially good mood. But there
wasn’t a lot of pain either. She could feel
the tenderness in her muscles and bones, hiding
just below the surface. But for now at least,
it was keeping a low profile, allowing her
to function.
There was a soft knock on the door and Keri
opened it. Ray reentered holding the uniform,
a lightweight, cream-colored, silk robe, and
a mask. She noticed him blushing slightly.
“Like what you see, big boy?’ she asked
playfully.
“Yeah,” he said sheepishly. “I mean,
you look like some sort of demon spawn who
intends to drag me into the pit of hell. But
you know, in a sexy way.”
“What exactly is going on in there?” Keith
asked over the headset.
“Mind your business, mall boy,” Ray growled.
“Way to ruin the mood.”
“Sorry. I just thought this was supposed
to be a serious situation.”
Ray’s face turned into a scowl as he opened
his mouth to reply but Keri shook her head
and leaned in to give him a peck on the lips.
“Can you hear me, Keith?” she asked. “I’m
speaking into Ray’s headset.”
“I can hear you, Detective.”
“You’re right. This is a serious situation.
We’ve got about forty-five minutes before
my daughter is supposed to be ritually sacrificed.
I can’t think of any anything more serious.
But it’s a lot to process, you know? I’m
trying to keep my head on straight so I don’t
completely lose it. Does that make sense,
Keith?”
“Yes, Detective,” he said.
“If I think about the consequences if we
fail, I don’t know that I’ll be able to
put one foot in front of the other, much less
do what needs to be done to save my daughter.
So Ray and I, we sometimes revert to a bit
of gallows humor. It keeps us loose. It reminds
us that even when things get grim, we can
laugh. And it keeps me from completely losing
my mind. You don’t begrudge me that, do
you?”
“No ma’am,” he replied. “I guess I’m
just nervous.”
“That’s okay. I am too. I just hide it
better. But you’re right. It’s time to
get our game faces on. So I’m going to get
into this ridiculous outfit and mask.”
“And I’m going to see if I can hunt up
one of those red ‘valet’ jackets,” Ray
said. “If I can pass for one of the security
guys, maybe I can get some info on where they
might be holding Evie.”
“What should I do?” Keith asked.
“You hold tight for now,” Keri said. “Trust
me. We’ll be calling on you soon enough.”
Keri finished getting dressed, then turned
to face Ray.
“How do I look?” she asked.
He pushed a button on his headset, turning
it off.
“I love you.” he said, without a trace
of snark.
He was staring at her deeply, almost as if
he was trying to drink her in. Keri felt her
heart open wide. She’d sensed how he felt
but hearing the words out loud for the first
time sent a shiver throughout her entire body.
“I love you too,” she said back to him,
her voice suddenly quavering.
He pulled her in gently and kissed her, careful
to avoid the bruised side of her mouth, although
she didn’t really care at that moment. Then
he wrapped her in his arms and hugged her
for a good thirty seconds.
“I just wanted you to know that,” he whispered
in her ear, “no matter what happens out
there.”
“We’ll have to continue this conversation
afterward, because I have a few additional
thoughts on the matter. Okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed, stepping back.
“But for now, let’s get to work, shall
we?”
Ray nodded silently, then turned the headset
back on.
“Keith, I’m heading out to find a security
jacket. Keri will be close behind me. Keep
us apprised of any developments. And remember,
Keri will only be in audio mode from this
point forward. Understood?”
“Got it,” Keith said.
Ray gave one last half-smile before stepping
outside. Keri waited sixty seconds, took a
deep breath, and opened the door, walking
out to face an uncertain future, armed only
with a gun, her training, and a mother’s
undying love.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Keri was initially nervous with each step
she took, holding her breath as she rounded
every corner with caution. She had even grabbed
a tray filled with mushroom appetizers just
in case she bumped into anyone. But after
a while, she realized that with all the focus
on the main party area of the house, no one
really cared much what the staff was doing
in the back part of the property.
But as she walked up a set of stairs into
what appeared to be the residence section
of the estate, Keri did notice a marked uptick
in foot traffic and security. Every few minutes
a man would walk down a hall into a bedroom,
accompanied by a young girl. In each case,
a man in a red sport coat would accompany
them into the room. After what she assumed
was a security sweep, he would step out, close
the door, and assume a position guarding the
room.
At one point, she realized she couldn’t
get any farther forward in the house without
going down a hall with two guards stationed
outside rooms about thirty feet from each
other.
You’re wearing a mask. The lighting is dark.
They can’t see your face or your bruises.
Act casual. You belong here.
She inhaled deeply, gave a long, slow exhale,
and stepped out into the hall. Giving her
best uninterested sashay, she made her way
toward the first guard, who eyed her warily
but said nothing. As she approached the second
man, he held up his hand for her to stop.
“What are you doing back here?” he demanded.
“Just serving food, man,” she said, trying
to sound bored and slightly annoyed. “My
manager said to wander the bedroom halls occasionally
to make sure no one felt left out back here.
So I’m doing what I was told. Mushroom?”
“No,” he responded gruffly. “But stick
to the central event area from now on. No
one back here is looking to eat.”
“Okay. Sorry, dude.”
She continued down the hall and made a left,
in the direction of many loud voices and what
she hoped was the “central event area.”
As she entered the next hallway, Keith’s
voice came on the comm. Keri had been so focused
on her own task that she hadn’t realized
he hadn’t spoken for a while.
“Listen up, guys. I’ve managed to hack
into the CCTV for the house and from what
I can tell, they’re going to start some
kind of presentation in less than a minute.
There’s a countdown clock and it has forty-two
seconds left.”
Keri felt a wave of panic rise in her gut.
Was it midnight already? She glanced at her
phone. 11:29.
“I’m almost in position in the main room,”
she heard Ray say. “It looks like everyone’s
starting to gather around the various monitors.”
Keri picked up the pace, hoping to find her
way to the main room before the presentation
started. As she passed an open bedroom door,
she glanced in and saw a flat-screen on the
far wall. It looked to be showing the countdown
as well.
She looked back down the hall in the direction
she’d come from to see if the surly guard
had followed her but she was alone. Quickly,
she stepped into the bedroom and pulled the
door closed. She looked around. The room was
filled with several bouquets of flowers and
multiple lit scented candles on the dresser.
The bed sheet and comforter were turned back.
But the room was empty.
Keri put the appetizer tray on the dresser
and sat down on the end of the bed just as
the countdown ended. The screen went black
for several seconds. Then the word “Vista”
appeared in bold, white letters. A deep authoritative
male voice began to speak as pictures of the
city appeared onscreen, dissolving into one
another.
“For close to a decade, a discerning group
of elites, dedicated to the pursuit of a new
kind of pleasure, has met once a year for
an event we call the Vista. What is the Vista?
It is a new way of looking at things, of seeing
beyond the everyday sameness of our daily
choices, of looking into the distance, into
the beyond, into a world where our erotic
gratification, our sexual fulfillment, our
carnal desires are treated with the respect—no,
the reverence—they are truly due.”
The iconic Los Angeles images were now replaced
by snapshots of attractive naked women. Keri
noticed that as the narrator spoke, the women
seemed to get younger with each passing photograph.
“Each year, we convene to remind ourselves
of what is possible for each of us if we just
choose to take it for ourselves. The world
is full of rules, of petty tyrannies, laid
out by bureaucrats unworthy of the power they
wield. But on this night, we are not bound
by their rules, by their laws. On this night,
we are the law. Life and death are in our
hands, in your hands.”
The screen went black again and then, to Keri’s
shock, her official LAPD photo filled the
screen. She heard a small squeal of surprise
escape her lips and glanced quickly at the
door to make sure no one came in. The voice
continued.
“As you all know, this year was very special,
even before the events of this morning. The
reward to the winner of our auction was always
to be the offspring of this woman, a thorn
in the side to all of us who appreciate pleasure
without boundaries, a cancer on the freedom
of free-thinking men. This is Detective Keri
Locke, who made it her life’s mission to
interfere with the natural order of the world,
to stop men of passion from satiating their
cravings. She wished, in fact, to punish us
for them. That will no longer be a concern.”
Keri heard a rumble of cackling laughter from
a room somewhere not too far away and knew
the narrator had really wowed his audience
with that one. She was glad the Vicodin was
still flowing through her bloodstream. It
helped numb her. Otherwise, she was pretty
sure she’d either be throwing up or firing
her gun at the television.
“But despite her absence, we can still cause
her suffering, because her only daughter still
lives. She was abducted six years ago, ripped
from her mother’s teat. But due to hard
work and diligence, she has been found. And
she is with us here tonight. She is our Blood
Prize for the evening. And one of you has
won the right to do what you will with her
before cutting her throat and watching the
life fade from her eyes. One of you has won
the right to have purview over life and death
and send this girl to meet her mother where
they can rot together among the worms.”
Despite the medication, despite the numbness,
Keri felt herself gag involuntarily.
“Gentleman, meet this year’s honored Arbiter.”
Keri’s photo disappeared, replaced by live
video of man standing in a nondescript room.
He was wearing a mask that covered most of
his face but not the random tufts of hair
atop his head. He had on a golden bathrobe
which could not hide a mass of chest hair
poking out above it. His double chin was glistening
with sweat. It was Herb Wasson. He didn’t
speak, only smiled grotesquely, as if he couldn’t
hide the excitement of what was to come.
A second later, he was replaced by the word
“Vista.” The voice spoke once more.
“At the stroke of midnight, after our Arbiter
has satisfied himself, we will congregate
once more for the Blood Prize. Until then,
please conclude any remaining delights and
return to the Festivities Hall for the ceremony.”
The screen went black.
Keri stood up, the ball of anxious fury rising
from her abdomen to her chest and finally
to her suddenly throbbing head. She started
to pull out the headset to reattach it to
her earpiece. But before it was even out of
her robe pocket, Ray’s voice was in her
ear.
“I know you’re probably bouncing off the
walls, Keri, but we’re going to solve this.
Keith, I’m assuming that was Wasson in the
video. Can you still track him using that
taggant stuff?”
“Already on it, Detective Sands,” Keith
said. “I figured that might be him and I’m
driving up closer to the house now to try
to get in range. Once he entered the property,
I stopped focusing on him. But I think I can
relocate him. The problem is, pinpointing
his location on my map doesn’t tell me exactly
where in the house he is. So I’m also pulling
up specs for the estate, so I can try to pinpoint
the actual floor and maybe even the room he’s
in.”
How long is this going to take?” Ray asked.
“It might take me a few minutes. I have
to get close enough to get a good trace on
Wasson but not so close that I draw attention
from the security guys. And pulling up an
accurate floor plan for this place might take
some work. My Internet connection is a little
sketchy in these hills.”
Keri finally got the headset attached.
“Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” both men said at the same time.
“You have to move fast, Keith. I know it’s
a lot to ask. But that was Wasson. And I have
a bad feeling about the ‘do what you will’
part of his time with Evie. They could be
bringing her to him right now and I need to
get there before he does anything to her.
He doesn’t just want to kill her. He wants
to break her.”
“I’m working on it, Detective,” Keith
insisted. “The good news is your headset
works as a tracker too. So once I get accurate
specs on the house, I’m hoping I can tell
you exactly where you are in relation to Wasson
and get you to him quicker.”
“Where are you now, Keri?” Ray asked.
“I’m in an empty second-floor bedroom.
It’s in a corridor that can’t be more
than a hundred feet from the main party room.
I could hear the crowd laughing clearly when
the narrator guy joked about me being dead.”
“Okay,” Ray replied. “I think I know
where you are generally. All of the johns
and their girls have left the party area through
the same exit so I suspect it leads to your
neck of the woods. I’m going to try to work
my way to you in a minute. But first I need
to find a quiet, out of the way place to make
a call.”
“What call?” Keri asked.
“I think now would be a good time to alert
County SWAT to that meth lab down the way,
don’t you?”
“Absolutely,” Keri agreed as she stood
up and grabbed the appetizer plate. “In
the meantime, I’m not sure what to do here.
I’m in this bedroom with a tray of cold
mushroom appetizers and wearing a suspicious
headset. If I run into a guard while searching
the halls, it might be hard to explain away.
But every second I’m stuck in here is a
second wasted.”
“Just stay put a little longer,” Keith
pleaded. “I’ve pulled over just down the
road from the house. I see Wasson’s taggant
signature on the screen now. I promise I’ll
have a floor plan up soon and be able to tell
you where he is.”
Keri was about to sit back down on the bed
when she saw the bedroom door handle start
to turn.
“Change of plans,” she whispered as the
door began to open.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
For the briefest of seconds, Keri considered
just flinging the tray at the head of whoever
entered the room. But what if it was a john
or some teen call girl and the security guy
was behind them? She’d lose the element
of surprise and a potential weapon. Better
to use the disguise first and avoid a confrontation
if possible.
“What does that mean?” she heard Keith
say but ignored him.
The door opened wide and light streamed in,
blocking her vision, which would have made
throwing the tray accurately difficult anyway.
A figure stepped into the light and she saw
that it was indeed a security officer. His
hand was on his hip where a weapon would be
but he hadn’t unholstered it yet.
“Hello?” she said warily, trying to sound
as innocuous as possible.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “What are
you doing in here?”
“I’m sorry. I’m part of the wait staff.
I had to pee but the line for employees in
the back was too long so I came looking for
a bathroom up here. This bedroom door was
open so I just came in real quick to take
care of my business.”
She saw his hand relax on his holster but
not come off it. She could also see the earpiece
cord dangling from his ear. All it would take
was one word from him to call in others or
alert his superiors.
“You shouldn’t be in this area of the
house, lady,” he said, stepping inside and
waving for her to pass by him into the hallway.
“The instructions were very explicit about
that.”
“I know,” she said apologetically as she
moved past him. “It’s just that when nature
calls, everything else flies out the window,
you know?”
He smiled in understanding, then gave the
room a quick once-over to make sure everything
was in order. She saw his smile fade slightly
and, immediately realizing something was wrong,
made her move.
“There’s no bathroom in h—” he started
to say.
But before he could complete the sentence
she hit him in the right temple with the flat
edge of the appetizer tray. Mushrooms flew
against the wall. He stumbled back, slightly
stunned but nothing more. Keri swung the tray
back the other way, this time clocking him
in the bridge of the nose just before he could
get his hands up to block the blow.
With his arms now up and his torso exposed,
Keri slammed into him as hard as she could,
leading with an elbow to his solar plexus.
As they both smashed into the bedroom wall,
she heard a grunt as he exhaled and knew she’d
knocked the wind out of him.
She didn’t have long before he’d recover,
just a matter of seconds, so she had no choice
but to err on the side of decisiveness. She
pulled out her gun and smashed the butt of
it onto the top of the guy’s skull. He moaned,
disoriented but still conscious. His right
hand was flailing, trying to grab at the “speak”
button on his comm.
No choice.
She lifted the butt of the gun and came down
hard again, only an inch away from where she’d
landed the first blow. This time he slumped
to the floor, out cold.
She wanted to roll over and lie down next
to him, at least for a moment, so she could
catch her breath. But she couldn’t risk
it. Instead, she forced herself to get up,
hurried over to the bedroom door, closed and
locked it.
“Can you guys hear me?” she asked as she
returned to the guard and yanked his comm,
earpiece and all, from his body.
“What happened?” Ray asked.
“I had an unexpected, unwanted visitor.
But he’s taken care of, at least for the
time being,” she said as she dragged his
heavy body around behind the far side of the
bed where it would be out of view.
“Are you okay?” Keith asked.
“Not too bad, all things considered. But
I don’t know how long we have before this
guy’s absence will be noticed. How often
do they do check-ins, Ray?”
“Every fifteen minutes. Last one was four
minutes ago, immediately after the video presentation.”
“That doesn’t give us long,” Keri said
as she used a pillowcase to tie the guard’s
hands together behind his back. “Once he
fails to check in, I can’t imagine they’ll
take more than sixty seconds to go into alert
mode. These guys don’t strike me as the
casual type.”
“Agreed,” Ray said. “That means we’ve
got about ten minutes, tops, before someone
in authority decides there’s been a breach.
So I’m dispensing with the whole meth lab
thing. I’m calling SWAT now to give them
the address.”
“Good,” Keri said. “Just one thing before
you do. I don’t know what these guys’
protocol is for a breach scenario but I’m
guessing that it involves either moving or
killing Evie. So midnight is out as our deadline.
The new drop dead time to find Evie is…eleven
forty-seven p.m. Got it?”
“Got it,” Ray said. “I’m going quiet
for a few to make that call now.”
“You still there, Keith?” Keri asked as
she stuffed one of the guard’s socks into
his mouth.
“I am.”
“Okay, well, I’ve got this guard pretty
well indisposed for the next ten minutes.
So I’m hoping you’ve got a new assignment
for me. How’s that floor plan coming, buddy?”
“I’ve got it up now,” Keith said. “Wasson’s
signal isn’t moving, which means either
something is wrong with the connection or
the guy is already where he wants to be.”
“I’m guessing the latter. They’d bring
her to him, not the other way around. Where
is he?”
“It looks like he’s one floor up from
you, in what seems to be some kind of massive
third-floor bedroom.”
“How do I access it?” Keri demanded.
“Well, I’m looking at your current location
and you’re actually not that far. The problem
is that you’d have to go down two main hallways
and up a set of stairs to get to the room.
I’m guessing that there will be a fair bit
of security along the way.”
“Good guess, Keith,” Keri said, trying
to keep the exasperation out of her voice.
“Any other routes that don’t have me running
into the guys in red jackets, alerting the
entire security team to my presence and putting
my daughter in even more mortal danger?”
“No pressure there. I do have one idea.
But it will require that Vicodin to still
be working pretty well.”
“I’m listening,” Keri said.
“If you go right at the end of the hallway
your current room is in, there’s a glass
door opening onto a small balcony. That balcony
is below the balcony for the third-floor bedroom.
So theoretically you could climb up from the
second to the third floor and get into the
bedroom where Wasson is that way.”
“Theoretically?”
“Well, it looks like a pretty big leap from
floor to floor. The plans I’m looking at
aren’t that detailed but the jump looks
to be at least…four feet high.”
Keri looked at the time. 11:40.
I have seven minutes until all hell breaks
loose.
“Let’s do it. I’m going to try to pass
for a waitress to get to that balcony, so
I’m picking up my appetizer tray and putting
away the headset. It’s too suspicious when
I’m walking the halls. I’ll be in audio
mode only. Keep me apprised of any developments
on Wasson’s movements and have Ray update
me on security changes, got it?”
“You got it, Detective.”
“Here goes nothing,” Keri said.
She peeked out into the hall and, seeing no
one, stepped out, making sure to lock the
door behind her. She walked confidently in
the direction Keith had instructed, made the
right turn, and saw the balcony where it was
supposed to be. There was no one in sight.
Apparently everyone had followed the instructions
to return to the Festivities Hall.
She reached the sliding glass door and pulled.
It was locked. For half a second, she debated
opening it. What if there was some kind of
alarm?
If there is, I’m screwed anyway, so I may
as well just go for it.
Keri unlocked the door and yanked it open.
A frigid blast of air hit her with unexpected
force. The wave of cold felt like an electric
shock. Inside the warm house, she’d forgotten
just how chilly it was outside.
But now, as goose bumps magically appeared
over every inch of her exposed skin, it all
came back to her. Standing there, in just
lingerie and a thin robe in forty-something-degree
weather, she felt her body start to shiver.
Keri stepped outside and yanked the door closed,
hoping the cold air wouldn’t waft down the
hall and alert anyone to something unusual.
She moved to the edge of the balcony and looked
up. Keith was right—it was going to be a
leap.
From the top of the second floor wall to the
very bottom of the third floor was more like
five feet than the four Keith had estimated.
And the balcony wall wasn’t really a wall.
Rather, it was a railing comprised of a series
of horizontal metal bars stacked on top of
each other.
That was actually a positive. At least if
she was able to jump high enough, she’d
be able to grab onto the bottom bar and pull
herself up rung by rung. That was, if she
didn’t miss the bottom bar completely and
plummet to the ground below.
The main concern was that in order to grab
the bottom rung of the third-floor railing
when she jumped, she’d have to clear the
base of the third-floor balcony, which was
pretty thick. If she didn’t get higher than
that, there’d be nothing to grab on to.
Keri looked over the side of the balcony.
It was too dark to tell the exact height.
But the house was built into the back of a
hill and she guessed it was at least forty
feet to the ground—nothing survivable.
She put the tray down on the ground, kicked
off her heels, and climbed up onto the top
bar of the second-floor railing. She put her
hands on the underside of the ceiling for
balance and eased herself out over the empty
expanse below.
She glanced at the clock one more time: 11:43
p.m. She bent her knees, steeling herself
for the jump, when a voice suddenly cut into
her earpiece. It was Ray.
“I’m back. Sorry for the delay. I put
the call in to LA County SWAT. They’re en
route and should be here in six to eight minutes.
But I have bad news. That may not be enough
time. My call must have tipped someone on
the inside here because they did an immediate
security check-in. One guy isn’t responding.
They’re sending a team to his tracker location
now. So I’m guessing you have less than
sixty seconds before they find him, order
a general alert, and pull Evie out.”
Keri clutched the ceiling tighter, suddenly
afraid her legs would give out beneath her.
For the briefest of seconds, she thought she
might collapse under the pressure of the moment,
as she had so many times before.
No. You will not crumble. You will be strong.
Her head cleared. Ray continued.
“Keri, I heard you say you’re in audio
mode only, so listen closely. I’m going
to draw them to me down here, make them think
the intruder is on the first floor, not the
third. That should give you a little extra
time—maybe even pull a few guards away.
But it will be short-lived. So you need to
move now.”
Keri wanted to tell him not to do it, that
it was a suicide mission. But like he said,
she was in audio mode only, so she couldn’t
say anything. Besides, apart from the likelihood
that it would kill him, it was good plan.
It would draw them away from her.
 But most of all, the decision was out of
her control. She couldn’t change it. And
she had less than a minute before guards might
burst into the room above her and take her
daughter away or worse. She had no choice
anymore.
So Keri jumped.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Her fingers found the bottom bar of the railing
but she felt them start to slip almost immediately.
Somehow, the index and middle finger of her
right hand clung to the bar as she slammed
her left palm down on the edge of the balcony,
where the tile met the metal.
She pushed up hard, getting enough leverage
and height to grip the railing with her entire
right hand and hook her left arm between the
first and second bars. She felt an odd twinge
in her left shoulder as all her weight bore
down on it at an extreme angle.
Ignoring the pain, she grabbed the highest
bar she could with her right hand and hooked
her elbow around it while she extricated her
left shoulder from its position and flung
it over the top railing. Using her remaining
strength and the adrenaline coursing through
her system, she pulled herself up the rest
of the way until she felt her feet plant on
the top of the balcony floor.
In Keri’s ear, gunshots and yelling were
audible, little of it coherent. She forced
herself to push it out of her head and focus
on what was in front of her.
From the balcony, she couldn’t see past
the heavy bedroom curtains. She climbed over
the railing and grabbed the door handle, ready
to shoot the glass if the thing was locked.
It opened easily.
She stepped inside and was almost immediately
overwhelmed by the strong scent of incense.
The room was dark, with candles everywhere.
Loud ambient music played over the sound system.
It took her a second to get her bearings.
Then she saw him—a corpulent man on a huge
bed. He was naked and his hairy back, with
its endless folds of fat, was to Keri. He
was thrusting down on someone who wasn’t
visible under his massive form.
Keri pulled out her gun and started toward
him, trying not to let her fury overwhelm
her focus. Suddenly a voice cut into her head.
It was Keith.
“Keri, I can see you’ve reached the third
floor. You need to move quick. I’ve patched
into the security channel. They’ve found
the guard you knocked out and they’re sending
guys for Evie now.”
Almost on cue, the door to the bedroom opened
and two men in red jackets rushed in, both
holding weapons. Keri turned to face them.
She felt surprisingly calm, considering the
circumstances. Keith’s voice, the sounds
of music, gunfire, and shouting, the smell
of the candles—they all faded into the background
as she centered her attention on the men in
red.
She shot the first one in the chest before
he even had a chance to raise his gun. The
second man was starting to aim at her but
she pulled the trigger before he’d fully
squared up in her direction and hit him in
the right shoulder. The gun dropped from his
useless hand as he fell to the ground. As
she crossed the room to the door, she shot
him a second time, this time in the chest
as he writhed on the floor in pain. He lay
still, no longer a threat.
Keri closed the door, locked it, and grabbed
a chair, which she jammed under the doorknob.
It wouldn’t stop them for long. But she
didn’t need long.
She turned her attention back to the bed.
Herb Wasson had been busy while she dealt
with the guards. He was still on the bed,
but now he was on his knees, facing Keri.
He was holding a girl in front of him, clutching
her close to his chest with his left arm wrapped
around her. The girl’s hands were cuffed
behind her back. His right hand was holding
a knife to her throat.
Keri refused to look at the girl’s face.
If it was Evie, she feared she’d lose her
will, her focus. She needed to keep all of
her attention on Wasson, staring into his
beady, darting black eyes.
“Drop the knife,” she said evenly, stepping
slowly toward him.
“You’re supposed to be dead!” he shrieked
more than said.
“Maybe I’m a ghost, Wasson,” Keri said,
taking another step forward. “If you don’t
drop the knife right now, that’s what you’ll
be.”
“I paid good money to make the pig’s kid
squeal,” he screamed, his voice rising crazily.
“I paid good money!”
In his excitement, his hand moved and he nicked
the girl slightly. Keri watched a trickle
of blood dribble down her neck. She looked
at Wasson and took a deep breath.
He opened his mouth, ready to shout again,
when she fired.
The bullet hit him in the middle of the forehead
and his eyes widened for a fraction of a second
before the force of the shot sent him flying
back onto the bed. The knife still rested
in his clenched fist.
Keri allowed herself to really look at the
girl closely for the first time. She was completely
naked and had several pieces of duct tape
tied to her mouth. Her hair was blonde, pulled
back in an elaborate braid. Her face was heavily
made up, although her tears had created long
rivulets of mascara running down her cheeks.
Keri followed the wet, black lines back up
to her eyes and stared into them. They were
rimmed red around the edges from crying but
in the center was the same familiar green
she knew from both her memory and her dreams.
They were the eyes of her daughter.
It was Evie.
Keri gasped, refusing to cry, reminding herself
that they were far from out of the woods yet.
She started to move toward her daughter when
there was a rattle at the bedroom door. Then
a banging sound as someone tried to slam into
it.
Keri turned back to Evie and helped her off
the bed.
“Stay behind me,” she said.
A gunshot sounded and Keri saw that someone
was firing at the door handle. She turned
back to Evie.
“Actually, why don’t you hide behind the
side of the bed?’ she instructed.
Evie nodded and crouched on her knees at the
edge of the bed. As satisfied as she could
be, Keri returned her attention to the door,
which someone was trying to smash open. The
chair was holding them back, but only temporarily.
Keri ran to the door and managed to get behind
it right as someone smashed it open. The momentum
sent the guy stumbling into the room and Keri
had an easy shot, firing at his back, then
immediately slamming her body against the
door, making contact with the second guard
entering the room.
As soon as she heard the second guard smash
into the doorframe, she dove forward into
the room and rolled over. She was just in
time to see the guard, having regrouped, shoot
into the door where she’d stood only a moment
earlier. As he swiveled his head in her direction,
realizing his error, she fired at him, nailing
him in the neck.
He stumbled backward into the guard behind
him, who was just pulling his trigger at that
moment. Unfortunately for the man in front
of him, who got in the way of the shot, the
bullet lodged in his lower back. Before the
third guard could get off a second attempt,
Keri had dropped him with a chest shot.
She scrambled to her knees, looking for movement
from any of them or any sign of other guards
in the hall. She heard a groan to her right
and glanced over. The first guard through
the door, the one she’d gotten in the back,
was still alive but seemed unable to move.
He was coughing up blood. Just to be safe,
she kicked away the gun lying inches from
his fingertips.
Then she closed the door again, although with
the lock blown off, it was a pretty useless
gesture. Keri started to walk over to Evie
again when Keith’s voice came over her earpiece
once more.
“Keri, if you can hear me, the guards are
scattering. SWAT is breaching the estate and
everyone is making a run for it. It’s a
madhouse. I hear the head of the security
team telling his guys to pull out. So hopefully,
you shouldn’t encounter any more of them.”
Keri started to fumble in the robe for her
headset. She wanted to ask if Ray was okay,
if he’d survived his diversion mission.
But it was gone. Maybe it had fallen when
she’d jumped balconies or when she was rolling
around. Either way, it was nowhere to be found.
Evie poked her head up from behind the bed
and Keri’s attention immediately returned
to her.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said, walking
toward her. “All the bad guys are gone now.”
But Evie, the duct tape still over her mouth,
shook her head. It had been six years since
Keri had seen her up close but she recognized
the look of fear in her daughter’s eyes.
Something wasn’t right.
 “What is it?” she asked.
Evie jabbed her head slightly to the left,
at the wall of the bedroom, as if to say “over
there.”
Apparently not all the bad guys were gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Keri looked at the wall. As she did, something
Keith had said a few minutes earlier popped
into her head. Looking at the floor plans
for the house, he’d described the third-floor
bedroom as massive.
But this bedroom, while definitely spacious,
was far from massive. In fact, when she’d
been out on the balcony, she’d noticed that
it seemed to extend far beyond where the wall
currently stood.
“Behind the wall?” she mouthed silently
to Evie.
Her daughter nodded. Keri desperately wanted
to pull the tape off her mouth, to hear her
child’s voice. But she worried that focusing
on anything other than the immediate threat
at hand could put them both at risk, so she
fought the urge.
Instead, she turned and looked at the wall,
letting her eyes travel along its entire length,
intent on finding anything out of the ordinary.
It didn’t take long to find the cameras.
She saw them at both corners of the wall,
where they met the ceiling. They were tiny,
circular, and painted to blend in but easily
noticeable once one was aware of them. Keri
glanced around and saw them at the other two
corners of the room as well.
She stepped closer to the wall and tapped
it softly. It felt like typical drywall. Glancing
back at Evie, she saw her daughter nod at
a section in front of them. Keri turned back
around. The only usual item in that area was
a long vertical painting framed to the wall.
The bottom of it stood about two feet above
the floor and it extended five feet up from
that.
Keri walked over to it and stared at the ornate
gold frame that jutted out from the wall.
Without pausing to think, she grabbed the
frame and pulled. There was a click and it
opened out toward her, leaving a doorway-sized
gap.
She stepped back and to the side, waiting
for a gunshot or for someone to dive through
the hole. No one did. Part of her considered
just grabbing Evie and running downstairs,
letting the SWAT team deal with whoever was
in there.
But what if whoever was in there escaped and
came back after her later? If this person
was part of the plot to kill Evie, they had
to be captured now. There might not be another
chance.
Choosing to act rather than mull over the
option, Keri dove through the hole, completing
a roll and coming to a stop in a kneeling
position. She surveyed the room, which appeared
to be empty apart from a huge desk with a
bank of monitors that showed the bedroom and
the rest of the house.
She looked at the screens and saw the chaos
on the floors below. There were dozens of
people running along the expanse of green
lawn in their tuxedos, trying to escape the
main gate on foot even as police cars streamed
through it. People were scurrying to their
limos, which had been blocked in.
Multiple men in red blazers had their hands
up or were being cuffed by uniformed officers.
SWAT officers were slowly working their way
through the house, hallway by hallway. But
Keith had gone radio silent. And she didn’t
see Ray anywhere.
But she did see movement out of the corner
of her eye and looked at one of the monitors
that showed the bedroom she’d just come
from. The angle showed both the bed and, in
the background, the bathroom.
Someone had just pushed open what appeared
to be a secret door behind a full-length bathroom
mirror and was stepping out. It was a man
with a baseball cap pulled low to cover his
face.
Keri glanced into the corner of the room she
was in and noticed something she’d missed
before. There was a small gap in the far wall
that exactly matched the spot where the mirror
was in the bedroom. Someone had been hiding
in the gap and waited until Keri had come
in here to sneak over to the bedroom side,
where Evie was waiting with her back to him.
Keri turned and dashed back toward the bedroom.
As she leapt over the two-foot rise, something
collided into her, slamming her into the back
wall, She felt the gun fall from her hand
as the breath escaped from her body.
As she started to slide down the wall, she
saw the hand of the baseball-capped person
reach for her weapon. She managed to thrust
her right leg out to kick it away as she slumped
to the ground. It slid under the bed.
The man in the cap looked at it for a second,
then seemed to shrug and hurried over in the
direction of the guard Keri had shot in the
back, whose gun was still lying several feet
away from him.
Keri, her breath still hard to come by, struggled
to get to her feet. She’d never reach him
in time. She could only hope this guy was
a bad shot as she started toward him. But
before she took her first step she saw that
Evie had already started running in the same
direction. Her hands were still cuffed behind
her back so she did the only thing she could:
she threw herself at the man in the cap, slamming
into his back and sending them both careening
past the gun.
Evie rolled several times before coming to
a stop in front of the bedroom door. The man
in the cap hit the far wall hard with his
shoulder but didn’t fall down. He gathered
himself and turned around as Keri rumbled
toward him. As he turned toward her, she saw
that he’d lost his cap in the collision,
and she could see his face clearly for the
first time.
Looking back at her, with a twisted smile
on his face and a malevolent gleam in his
eye, was Jackson Cave.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Keri barely had time to process who she was
charging at before she slammed into him, knocking
him up against the wall. Unfortunately, she
also slammed the left shoulder she’d tweaked
on the balcony, sending a sharp burst of pain
down her left side. It was enough for him
to wriggle free and dive for the gun.
But instead of grabbing it, he accidentally
knocked it toward the open balcony door. It
skimmed the hardwood floor of the bedroom
and out onto the balcony tile, where it stopped,
resting about a foot from the edge.
Cave got up and ran for it, with Keri right
behind him. He had just stepped outside when
she caught up to him and leapt onto his back,
knocking him hard against the metal railing.
She heard his body hit it with a brutal thud
and felt her own body slam into his a moment
later. They both sank to the ground in a heap.
Keri saw Cave reach desperately over in the
direction of the gun. The back of his hand
bumped the barrel and sent it skittering over
the edge of the balcony. He didn’t seem
to realize what had happened and kept patting
the tile.
Keri rolled off him and grabbed the sliding
door handle to pull herself to her feet. Cave
glanced down, saw that the gun was gone, and
began to reach for the railing to yank himself
up.
He had gotten up to mid-crouch when Keri barreled
into him, this time with her right shoulder
forward. She made solid contact and felt his
ribs compress when they met the unforgiving
railing behind him. As he started to slump,
she raised her right knee to meet his face
and connected cleanly with the bridge of his
nose. He fell to the tile, face first, his
arms and legs splayed out at his sides.
Keri bent over, resting her hands on her knees,
desperately sucking in massive gulps of air.
It took twenty seconds of this before she
felt strong enough to speak.
“You hated me that much, Cave?” she spat,
shaking her head in disbelief. “You wanted
to watch in some private room while your pervert
client murdered my daughter on TV?”
Cave tilted his head slightly and looked up
at her from the ground.
“You ruined my life. Why shouldn’t I ruin
yours…Detective?” He said that last word
with such disgust that Keri realized how much
of an effort it must have been for him to
hide the vitriol in all their prior conversations.
“I didn’t ruin your life, Cave. I just
wanted my daughter back. You’re the one
who traffics in sexual slavery, who sells
little girls for money. You chose your path.
And even this morning, I offered to walk away
from all of it, if you returned her to me.”
“You weren’t serious,” Cave hissed venomously,
as he slowly pushed himself up onto all fours.
“You were just trying to play me.”
“Maybe I was. To be honest, I’m not even
sure myself. But if Evie had shown up at my
door, I’d have had a tough call to make.
Instead, you tried to have me killed.”
“I almost regretted that,” Cave admitted,
grabbing the railing and pulling himself back
to his feet. “I wanted you to get to look
into your daughter’s lifeless eyes and know
you’d failed her. Signing off on your execution
meant I lost that. But look at us now, Detective.
I guess I got a second chance.”
“No chance, Cave. She’s safe. And you’re
finished. Where you’re going, you’ll be
the one bought and sold. I’ve got a friend
who can make it happen.”
“You mean your friendly neighborhood ghost,
Thomas Anderson?” Cave asked mockingly,
standing fully upright now, oblivious to the
blood running freely from his nose. “I wouldn’t
count on him. He choked to death on his own
tongue about an hour after you left him last
night—a real shame.”
Keri started to take a step toward him, the
bile rising in her gut. But something in his
expression made her stop. He continued.
“And as for Evie, do you really think she’s
safe now? Come on, after everything she’s
been through? No matter what happens to me,
even if she never faces another nasty man
for the rest of her life, she’ll always
have the memories; the nightmares. She’ll
always have that degraded face looking back
at her in the mirror. She might be safe from
the bad guys out there. But is she safe in
here?” he asked, tapping his head. “I
give her a year, tops.”
Keri pretended not to notice the cold shiver
that ran down her spine, ordered herself not
to let this man bait her into giving him the
easy way out. She was a cop, a detective with
the LAPD, and she was going to bring in her
collar.
“Jackson Cave, you are under arrest for
the…you know what, it’s too much to list.
For now, you’re just under arrest.”
She stepped toward him, debating how physical
she’d have to be without cuffs. But as she
did, he lunged at her and she saw, almost
too late, that he had a small switchblade
that he must have snuck out while he was getting
to his feet.
He had jumped at her with more energy than
control and she was able to sidestep him at
the last moment, swinging her right fist down
on his forearm hard. She heard the knife clatter
to the tile as she swung up with her right
elbow, clocking him under the jaw and sending
him careening backward.
Cave’s back hit the top bar of the railing
and his momentum sent him tumbling over backward.
Keri managed to grab his left leg and slow
him enough for him to grab the bottom bar
of the railing before gravity ripped his leg
from her grasp.
He clung to the bottom bar, trying to get
a good grip on the cold, slick metal as his
body swung out in an arc over empty space
before careening back hard against the outer
edge of the balcony. He was barely holding
on. Keri reached over and extended her arm.
“Give me your hand, Jackson. I’ll pull
you up. Let me help you.”
Cave looked up at her and for a moment he
had the same expression as when she’d mentioned
his brother, Coy—as if he was studying her,
trying to determine whether to believe her
sincerity or not. But it was gone in a flash
and she knew what conclusion he’d drawn.
“Oh, Detective,” he said, almost pityingly
through gritted teeth, “you’re the one
who needs help. You think this ends with me?
I’m just a spoke in the wheel. You have
no idea how high this goes. Watch your back,
Keri.”
And then he let go. She didn’t see him land
but three seconds later she heard a stomach-turning
crunch and then silence. She slumped to the
tiled floor of the balcony, allowing herself
a minute to recuperate before rolling over
and looking for her daughter.
To her surprise, Evie had already stood up
and walked across the bedroom to the balcony
door. She was wrapped in a blanket from the
bed. Keri saw that she was no longer handcuffed
and realized she must have found the key.
She had also pulled the duct tape off her
mouth. Evie stood at the balcony door for
what seemed like an eternity, just staring
down at Keri.
Finally, she stepped outside and gingerly
sat down beside her mother, tucking the blanket
over her shoulders so that it covered both
of them. Then, without speaking a word, Evie
leaned over and rested her head on her mother’s
shoulder.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
The next few hours went by in a blur. Keri
and Evie barely had a moment alone together
before the SWAT team burst in. They didn’t
really try to talk anyway. Mostly they just
held each other. Even as they were taken to
the hospital in ambulances, had IVs put in
their arms, and were wrapped in thermal blankets,
they didn’t let go of each other’s hands.
Keri learned that Ray was alive. He’d already
been transported to the same hospital as them
with a grazing gunshot wound to the left forearm.
He hadn’t wanted to go but SWAT wasn’t
in a negotiating mood and basically forced
him into the ambulance.
Apparently he had gotten the red jacket security
team’s attention by firing several rounds
into the air above the Festival Hall crowd,
then leading the guards on a chase to the
pool house, where he’d locked himself inside
a supply pantry and held off multiple attackers
until the cavalry arrived. At some point in
the excitement, he’d lost his headset, which
explained his lack of communication.
Keith had lost communication because he’d
been arrested. When the police found a random
guy sitting in a parked car half a block from
the estate with a headset and a laptop, they
decided to take him into custody and sort
it out later. He’d subsequently been released.
There was a brief lull after Keri and Evie
had been triaged at the ER and determined
not to have life-threatening injuries but
before the doctors came in to do more thorough
exams. Mother and daughter sat in mobile hospital
beds next to each other, separated from the
world by a thin, puke-green curtain. Neither
of them spoke for a while.
“I knew you’d come for me,” Evie finally
said quietly.
“How did you know?”
“They took me, they hid me, and they used
me for six years. But they couldn’t keep
the world out that whole time, Mom. I saw
the news stories. The guy who took me actually
showed me the press conference after he kidnapped
me, the one where you were crying in the parking
lot. He was laughing at you.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” Keri said,
trying to keep her voice from cracking.
“He thought it would break me,” Evie continued,
her voice surprisingly neutral. “But what
he didn’t get was that just seeing your
face gave me comfort. Knowing that you cared
so much…I held on to that for years when
it seemed like there was no hope. And then…”
Her voice trailed off. Keri desperately wanted
her to continue, but she didn’t want to
push too hard and shut her down. Anything
her daughter volunteered was a blessing, considering
the circumstances. But Evie regrouped and
continued.
“And then I heard you became a cop. I saw
some of the stories about you saving kids.
And I knew that eventually you’d find me.
I never had a doubt. Well, mostly.”
Keri started to ask about the “mostly”
but was interrupted by a phalanx of medical
personnel who all swarmed into the room at
the same time. They wanted to take Evie to
a different room for a private examination
but that was shut down by both mom and daughter
immediately.
At some points during the exam, Keri could
barely see Evie, there were so many people
in the room. After a half hour, one doctor
came over and whispered in Keri’s ear that
Evie had some internal vaginal bleeding and
they needed to do a procedure immediately
requiring general anesthesia.
She gave her consent, insisting that they
share a room after the surgery was complete.
While Keri waited for them to finish, the
doctors caring for her provided the treatment
she should have received after the cliff fall
that morning.
It turned out that she had three cracked ribs
from her leap onto the canyon rock outcropping.
There were still tiny bits of asphalt and
clothing embedded in her legs that she and
Mags had missed in the bath cleanup session.
The big chunk that had lodged in her shin
had actually chipped off a small piece of
her upper tibia, which helped explained the
nonstop throbbing in that area.
A couple of her fingers were sprained and
her left palm was so torn up that she might
eventually need a skin graft. She required
multiple stitches vertically along the right
side of her face from her eye down to just
below her nose. She had also mildly sprained
her shoulder climbing the mansion balcony
at the Vista and would need to wear a sling
for a few days. She was a mess.
So when the doctors offered to give her a
morphine drip while they dealt with much of
that, she happily accepted. What she didn’t
expect was that she’d completely pass out
while they were working.
When she woke up, light was streaming in through
the hospital room window. Evie, fast asleep,
was lying in the bed next to her. Ray, as
he so often seemed to be, was sitting in an
uncomfortable-looking chair beside her bed.
He was asleep too and she saw a large bandage
on his left forearm. Otherwise, he seemed
uninjured.
He seemed to sense her eyes on him and stirred.
After taking a moment to get his bearings,
he whispered.
“What time is it?”
Keri glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Six fifty-six a.m.”
“Good,” he said. “That means you got
about three hours of sleep. Better than nothing.”
 “And you? How much sleep did you get last
night?”
“About…fifty-six minutes,” he answered,
smiling sheepishly.
“Raymond, you really should take better
care of yourself.”
He didn’t respond to that, instead staring
at Keri, then looking at over at Evie sleeping
peacefully beside her.
“She looks so much like you,” he said.
It sounded like he might be about to add something
else but he didn’t. He just smiled.
“I can’t believe I have her back,” she
whispered.
“It was a long time coming, Keri. I’m
so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Ray. You know, I wouldn’t have
been able to…without you, I couldn’t…”
She wasn’t able to finish.
“Hey, don’t get all soft on me yet, Thumbelina.
There’s still a long road ahead for both
of you. This right here—lying in the hospital
with tubes in your arms—it’s the honeymoon.”
“I know, Ray. I’m terrified of the road
ahead. The damage that’s been done to her,
I don’t know how to undo it.”
“I hate to say it, but there’s no undoing
it. What happened, happened. It’s not fair
but those horrors will always be with her.
Now it’s about finding ways to deal with
them, to move past them, to create something
like a normal life.”
“You’re right,” Keri agreed. “I guess
the sooner I accept there’s no easy solution,
the better it is for both of us.”
“I’m glad that’s your attitude, partner,”
Ray said, sitting upright in his chair in
a “down to business” way that made Keri
nervous. “Because ‘sooner’ starts pretty
much the second you walk out that door.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I gave the doctors and nurses
strict instructions not to let anyone else
in this room besides medical personnel. But
you should know that there is an army of people
out there champing at the bit.”
Despite the pain, Keri used the button on
her bedside remote control to force her hospital
bed upright.
“What are you talking about? Who’s out
there?”
“For starters, Lieutenant Hillman, who’d
very much like to know why someone I reported
dead is in the hospital after conducting a
rogue takedown of a sex slavery ring. The
rest of the unit has a few questions too,
as does LAPD police chief Beecher. The mayor
is supposedly here too, along with a couple
of city supervisors.”
“Is that all?” Keri asked sarcastically.
“Actually no. The entire press corps is
here. Not just local—national as well. They’re
setting up for a press conference. They’ve
already had two of them overnight but the
big one will be with you and…and Stephen.”
“Excuse me?” Keri asked, trying to keep
her voice down despite the anger she felt
rising in her throat.
“Yeah,” Ray said softly. “Your ex-husband
has been out there doing interviews, saying
how happy he is to have Evie back, how he
always believed they’d be reunited one day.”
“Are you kidding me? Every time I went to
him for help, he told me I was crazy to keep
looking for her. He said I needed to accept
that she was dead. He resented me even bringing
her up.”
“I know, Keri. But that’s not what he’s
saying for the cameras now. And he’s been
pretty aggressive about trying to get in here
to see her. The only reason he hasn’t is
that I convinced the doctors not to let anyone
else in while she’s asleep, at least not
until you were awake and could give consent.
But once she wakes up, that won’t fly. He
is her father.”
“Barely,” Keri muttered.
Ray glared at her and nodded in the direction
of Evie, who was beginning to wake up.
“I’m going to step outside so you can
have some private time,” he whispered. “But
don’t expect that to last long.”
He blew Keri a kiss and closed the door just
as Evie opened her eyes.
*
Ray was right. From the moment Keri opened
the door to her hospital room, madness reigned.
Almost immediately, she was accosted by her
ex-husband, Stephen, who insisted on seeing
Evie right away.
Despite his lack of interest in her whereabouts
in recent years and her sense that his sudden
return of paternal instincts was more opportunistic
than genuine, she couldn’t deny him. Evie
was his daughter, after all. And before she’d
been taken and everything had fallen apart,
he’d been a good, loving, if slightly uninvolved
father.
As he tore past her into the room and rushed
over to Evie’s bedside, Keri saw the rush
of relief in his eyes at the realization that
she really was alive. Maybe he’d insisted
Keri was crazy to believe it all those years
because allowing himself to share in that
hope was just too painful. She could understand
that desire. But she couldn’t forgive it.
Evie was their daughter and he should have
kept fighting for her rather than just giving
up.
Evie was still out of it and after about fifteen
minutes she drifted off again. The nurses
shooed everyone out so she could rest and
Keri watched her through the door’s window
as she dealt with a succession of visitors.
First was Lieutenant Hillman, who looked torn
between wanting to ream Keri out for faking
her death and being involved in the infiltration
of the Hollywood estate and just being happy
she was alive and reunited with her daughter.
Ultimately, he chose to focus on the latter,
making only a passing mention of a major debrief
down the line.
The rest of the team showed up to offer their
well wishes too. Detectives Suarez, Edgerton,
Patterson, and even Frank Brody, the generally
surly vet just weeks from retirement, seemed
truly happy for her. Only Officer Jamie Castillo
was slightly reserved and Keri suspected she
knew why.
Castillo almost certainly wondered why Keri
let her think she was dead; why she didn’t
call her in to help break into the Hollywood
estate and instead trusted some mall security
kid who hadn’t even entered the police academy
yet.
Keri wanted to explain the truth—that there
was a mole in the unit and though she was
sure it wasn’t Castillo, the only safe play
was to keep everyone but Ray out of the loop
for now. After all, with his dying words,
Jackson Cave had warned her to watch her back
and she intended to. That meant staying quiet
until the mole was discovered, even if it
left Jamie confused and angry.
The press conference was set for 8 a.m. Evie
was sleeping comfortably in her room—heavily
sedated on the recommendation of her doctors.
Despite Stephen’s suggestion that it might
be cathartic for her to participate, Keri
refused to let her anywhere near cameras or
reporters.
Just before it started, Keri was pulled to
the side by Reena Beecher, formerly the captain
of her division and now chief of the entire
LAPD. In her mid-fifties with deep worry lines
and grayish-black hair tied up in a tight
bun, Beecher was tall and slender, with angular
features that reminded Keri of a hawk constantly
in search of prey. She seemed about to say
something when the mayor and several members
of the Board of Supervisors walked up behind
her.
“We ready to get this thing started, Chief?”
he asked pleasantly. The mayor was tall and
dark-haired and couldn’t have been much
older than Keri.
“Yes, Mayor Alvarez. Have you had the chance
to meet Detective Locke yet?” Beecher asked.
“I haven’t had the honor,” the mayor
said, shaking her hand. “I want to save
some of my praise for the cameras but for
now I’ll just say thank you. I know you
were trying to save your daughter. But in
the process, you saved a lot of other young
girls. Isn’t that right, Carl?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Mayor,” said an older,
well-manicured man standing to Alvarez’s
right, who stepped forward at the mention
of his name. “Carl Weatherford, County Supervisor
for the Third District. Nice to meet you,
Detective. The Vista estate was in my district.
I don’t know if you’re aware, but each
Supervisory District represents almost two
million people. That’s close to triple what
a member of Congress represents. It’s a
huge, diverse community. And you’ve done
an incredible service to our community by
disrupting such an unsavory business.”
“‘Unsavory’ strikes me as a pretty mild
word for what was going on there,” Keri
said.
“Of course,” Weatherford agreed. “I
guess when something is that awful, I tend
to hide behind euphemisms. But you’re right.
It doesn’t begin to capture it.”
An aide came over and indicated it was time
to start.
“See you up there,” the mayor said before
heading to his seat, followed closely by Weatherford
and the other supervisors who had managed
to escape Keri’s disdain.
She started to make her way to her seat when
Chief Beecher grabbed her wrist and leaned
in close.
“Detective Locke,” she said quietly. “Remember
to keep your cool up there. There will be
a lot of grandstanding. There will be a lot
of credit-taking. There will be a lot of blame-placing.
But you need to keep your eye on the ball.
You have your daughter back. The sex ring
and the man who ran it have been exposed.
But you are still on suspension and under
investigation. Under the circumstances, the
fact that you are an honest-to-goodness hero
should get you enough brownie points to bury
the mistakes you’ve made in the past. But
only if you stay cool and let me help you.
Do you think you can do that?”
“I can try.”
“Trying won’t be enough,” Beecher said,
looking at her sharply with her hard, birdlike
eyes, the ones that had seen even more cruelty
and violence than Keri’s had. “It’s
going to be hardball up there and you’re
going to have to sit there and bite the bullet
if you want to come out clean on the other
side of this. Are you capable of that? Are
you able to give bland, inoffensive answers
to biting, accusatory press questions? Are
you able to commend people you don’t believe
deserve it? Because in the past, that’s
hasn’t been a sure thing.”
“I didn’t have my daughter back then,
Chief Beecher,” Keri told her. “So I was
more about shooting bullets than biting them.
But I have her now. And if saying the right
thing or just keeping my mouth shut is what
it will take to move past all this and get
her started on a normal life, then that’s
what I’m prepared to do.”
“Glad to hear it,” Beecher said, offering
a rare smile. “Let’s do this thing.”
For most of the press conference, keeping
her promise to Chief Beecher wasn’t too
hard. The mayor was effusive in his praise
of law enforcement generally and a mother’s
love and dedication in particular.
He promised to root out the corruption that
was currently rocking the city and indicated
that some of the community’s biggest powerbrokers
were among the clients of what the press was
already dubbing “The Hollywood Child Brothel.”
Supervisor Weatherford parroted the mayor’s
comments, with particular commendation for
the LA County SWAT unit which had converged
so quickly on the scene. Chief Beecher then
got up and updated everyone on the status
of the investigation before praising Keri,
Ray, and a new recruit to the police academy
named Keith Fogerty, who had assisted in the
operation. She then surprised and angered
the assembled reporters by saying that while
Detective Locke would be making a brief statement,
she would not be taking any questions at this
time.
As Keri got to her feet with the assistance
of Lieutenant Hillman, who was seated beside
her, she saw someone else rise from across
the platform. It was Stephen. As she approached
the podium, he smiled and met her there, taking
her hand. She felt a pit of uneasiness stir
in her gut as he leaned in toward the microphone.
What the hell is he doing?
“Thank you all so much for coming,” he
said before she had a chance to open her mouth.
“This is very hard because the truth is
that losing Evie cost Keri and me so much.
Not just our marriage but something deeper—our
sense of optimism about the world. But one
thing we never lost was our faith that our
daughter would come back to us, right, Keri?”
She stood there, frozen, unable to speak.
It wasn’t true, not even a little bit. How
many times had she gone to him, begging him
to help her, to give her the money to help
pay for a private investigator to follow up
leads? And every time, he’d refused, acting
as if the very request was an affront to the
new life he’d created with his crappy actress
wife and his bratty little new son. He’d
lost faith a long time ago.
But what was she supposed to say? That it
was all crap? What if Evie was watching from
her room? Should Keri reveal that her own
father was more interested in moving on with
his picture-perfect life than finding the
daughter he suspected was dead and feared
would be a horrible complication if she was
still alive?
Stephen was looking at her, the smile still
plastered to his lips but his bluffing eyes
filled with apprehension, wondering if she’d
go so far as to call him out at the expense
of their only daughter’s love for her father.
She wouldn’t.
“There was always hope,” she said quietly.
“That’s right,” he agreed, the relief
obvious in his voice. “We always had hope.
Sometimes Keri would come to me, after a brutal
case, fearing the same fate might have befallen
Evie. And I would tell her not to lose the
drive that kept her searching, the sense of
purpose that fueled her. And she’d return
to the fight, stronger than before. We were
no longer husband and wife. But in that way,
we were still a team.”
Keri felt the bile rise up in her throat.
She wanted to retch so badly. But she forced
the urge down, remembering what Chief Beecher
had told her. Whatever grandstanding Stephen
engaged in, whatever bullets she had to bite,
whatever glad-handing and politicking was
required to get her through this event and
back to a normal life with her daughter, Keri
would endure it.
Because she had endured far worse. And because
this wasn’t about her.
It was about Evie.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
One thought stuck in Evie Locke’s head,
no matter how hard she tried to push it out.
Everything hurts.
It was the day after the big press conference—the
one she’d slept through—and she was adjusting
herself in the hospital bed, trying not to
grimace as she sat upright. The pain from
the surgery was still there but she didn’t
want to worry her mom. She had overheard a
nurse saying that “the poor woman never
goes to sleep until her daughter drifts off
and even then it’s fitful.” Evie didn’t
want to make it worse.
She waited patiently as her mom gathered herself
for what was clearly going to be an uncomfortable
conversation. For half a second, she considered
how weird it was that she automatically thought
of the woman across from her as “Mom”
now. The last time they’d really spoken
she was calling her “Mommy” and yet she
couldn’t bring herself to think the word,
much less say it.
Not that it really fit anyway. Her mom had
aged a lot in the last six years. Maybe the
image Evie had in her head all those years
was a fantasy. But she didn’t remember the
flecks of gray hair or crow’s feet or rough
cheeks or red eyes.
Of course, her mom was almost thirty-six now
instead of the thirty years old she’d been
when Evie was taken. And she was recovering
from the fight with the Cave lawyer guy (and,
from what the nurses said, some kind of car
crash and another fight).
But the age seemed to be deeper than that.
Evie suspected it came from years of worrying
about whether her daughter was alive or dead,
what kind of abuse she was suffering. And
it came from doing a job that made her mom
constantly see other girls that reminded her
of what might be happening to her own daughter.
It was actually amazing that she didn’t
look worse.
She wondered what could have her mom so tongue-tied.
They’d already discussed how she’d have
to talk to detectives about everything that
had happened to her the night of the Vista.
She knew she was going to have to go to therapy.
She knew she’d need a few more surgeries
in the coming months to fix some damage that
had been done to her “internally” over
the years. She knew her mom and dad were divorced
and that her dad had remarried some actress
and had a little boy. What else was there?
“So honey,” her mom began, “the doctors
are letting you leave the hospital today.
And I wanted to discuss the plan moving forward.”
“Okay.”
“Your father and I have talked and we’ve
agreed that for the next little while, it
might be better to have you homeschooled.
That way, you can catch up to your grade level
at your own pace. Plus we don’t want to
throw you back into a school environment right
away. That could be pretty intense for anyone,
especially…”
“Especially for a kid whose face has been
plastered all over the news because she was
going to be a ritual sacrifice at a Hollywood
sex party. I get it, Mom—makes sense.”
“Okay then,” her mom said, “so far,
so good. The other thing is living arrangements.
For now, the plan is for you to live most
of the time at my apartment in Playa del Rey.
But you’ll also spend some time at your
dad’s house in Brentwood so you can get
acclimated there as well. Since school isn’t
an issue, we don’t think it should cause
too many complications. How does that sound?”
The truth was that leaving this hospital room
terrified her. The truth was that the idea
of school and multiple bedrooms was almost
more than she could process. The truth was
that she knew she wasn’t wanted in one of
those homes. But that was the wrong answer.
So she gave the right one.
“Sounds like a plan,” she said with as
much enthusiasm as she could muster.
*
Her mom’s apartment smelled like Chinese
food. It made sense considering she lived
right above a Chinese restaurant. The smell
was pleasant but extremely strong and Evie
figured she’d either learn to get used to
it or grow to hate Chinese food pretty fast.
Her mom looked so apprehensive as she showed
her around that making a joke about the smell
didn’t seem appropriate. It might not be
taken as intended. So Evie pretended not to
notice.
She got the apartment tour, which didn’t
take long, considering the place had a living
room, a kitchen, a dining nook, a bathroom,
and two bedrooms.
“It’s cozy,” she said appreciatively
when asked what she thought.
That made her mom laugh. It was the first
real laugh she’d heard from her since the
rescue.
“What?” Evie asked.
“Nothing—that was just very diplomatic
of you. You’d make a great real estate agent.
Let me know if the sheets are okay for you.
I wasn’t sure what you’d like. Ponies
and rainbows didn’t seem right. But neither
did Renoir watercolors.”
“What’s Renoir?” Evie asked.
“Oh, he was an artist.”
“I guess that’s the kind of thing I’ll
be learning in homeschooling. Can I ask you
a question?”
“Of course,” her mom said, although her
tone sounded like she wasn’t so sure.
“When did you get this apartment?”
“Last year.”
“Why did you get an apartment with two bedrooms
when you and Dad were divorced?”
“That’s easy, sweetie. I was saving the
second room for you.”
*
That night, her mom invited over a couple
of her friends and they had pizza and played
board games. Evie thought she was a little
worried about being alone in the apartment
with her. There were so many people bustling
around all the time at the hospital that there
weren’t a lot of quiet moments and she suspected
her mom was worried about how to handle them.
To be honest, Evie was too, so she welcomed
the company.
Her mom’s friend Mags was wild. She looked
like this Amazon woman, super tall and gorgeous
with blazing red hair and big boobs. But she
had this really strong Southern accent that
Evie was pretty sure she played up for effect.
She acted all fancy like she was in Gone with
the Wind or something but then she’d burp
real loud and blame it on Evie’s mom. It
was pretty hilarious.
Evie actually already recognized her mom’s
friend Ray, even though she pretended not
to. She remembered he used to sometimes ask
her mom to consult on some cases back when
she was a professor at LMU.
She also knew his voice from a conversation
she overheard when he and her mom were talking
in the hospital and thought she was still
asleep after she had some surgery. He was
telling her mom that her dad was telling everyone
he’d always known Evie would come back.
Her mom got so mad because she said that it
wasn’t true—that her dad thought she was
crazy to keep looking for Evie and that he
didn’t even like for her mom to talk about
her anymore. When Ray walked in and said hi,
Evie realized it was the same person.
Her mom said he was her partner now, that
they worked missing persons cases together.
She didn’t say it but Evie could tell they
were more than just partners, more than close
friends even. But even though it was obvious
just from looking that they liked each other,
her mom didn’t say anything about it, so
Evie didn’t mention it either. She figured
her mom had her reasons and she’d tell her
when she was ready.
*
When Keri woke up to the screaming that night,
it was 2:04 a.m. She had grabbed her gun,
cocked it, and pointed it at the bedroom door
before she realized it was coming from Evie’s
room.
She dashed over and turned on the light. Her
daughter was sitting bolt upright in the bed,
clutching her pillow to her chest, sweat pouring
down her face. Keri put the gun on the hall
bookshelf before Evie could see it and hurried
over to the bed.
She sat down and pulled her daughter close.
Evie dropped the pillow and wrapped her arms
around her mom instead. For several minutes,
neither of them spoke.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Keri eventually
asked quietly.
Evie shook her head.
“That’s okay. You have your first therapy
session tomorrow. If you want to talk about
it then, you can. For now, just rest, all
right?”
“Will you stay with me?” Evie asked plaintively,
her voice partly muffled as her face was burrowed
in Keri’s T-shirt.
“Of course, sweetie. Let me just turn down
the lights a bit.”
“But not off!” Evie insisted.
“Not off,” Keri agreed, “just lower.”
She turned on the reading light before turning
off the overhead one.
“I’ll be right back,” she promised.
She returned the gun to her bedroom, reminding
herself that she didn’t need it with all
the exterior cameras Ray had set up outside
the apartment, along with the roving patrol
car that had been assigned to monitor the
area 24/7. Neither of them considered Jackson
Cave’s claim that the conspiracy didn’t
end with him to be an idle threat.
She grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom,
wet it, and got back into bed beside Evie.
She dabbed her daughter’s forehead, mopping
up the beads of sweat that clung to her brow.
After a few minutes, Evie’s breathing slowed
and she curled up beside Keri, who was lying
on her back. She wrapped her arms around her
mother’s waist and drifted off, whimpering
occasionally. When she did, Keri would coo
softly or hum a lullaby until she settled.
This lasted all night.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Keri sat in the waiting room of Evie’s therapist’s
office, trying to keep her eyes open. After
initially meeting the doctor together, Keri
had left them to finish the session without
her. Evie had been inside for about twenty
minutes and the quiet solitude and bland wallpaper
of the room was making staying awake a challenge.
Suddenly an image of Evie, sweaty and scared
in her bed, popped into Keri’s half-conscious
brain and her eyes popped open. Tingling with
adrenaline as if it had just happened, she
knew she wouldn’t be able to catnap. She
decided to take advantage of the free time
and took out her phone.
Rita Skraeling picked up on the second ring.
Rita ran the South Bay Shared Home, a residential
facility in Redondo Beach that served as transitional
housing for girls who were trying to get out
of the world of underage prostitution.
That’s where Keri had taken Susan Granger,
the girl who had tipped her off that Evie
was to be the Blood Prize at the Vista. Keri
had found Susan hooking on a street corner
in Venice last year and rescued her from her
pimp.
Since then, Susan had made remarkable progress.
Under Rita’s mentorship, she’d resumed
school, done intensive therapy and, inspired
to become a detective like Keri, even started
a Nancy Drew book club. If anyone could offer
“on the ground” advice on how to help
teenage girls find their way back from the
horrors of forced prostitution, Rita was that
person.
“I was wondering when you’d call,” Rita’s
raspy, cigarette-tinged voice said without
a formal greeting. “Save dozens of girls
from sexual slavery and you think you’re
too big for your britches, do you?”
“Sorry, Rita,” Keri said, laughing despite
herself. “I’ve been a little busy lately.”
“That’s okay, Detective. I figured you’d
call when you had the time. But I can’t
say our friend Susan will be as forgiving.
She’s been bouncing off the walls waiting
to hear from you. I think she’s also expecting
some kind of civilian commendation from Chief
Beecher for that tip about the Vista.”
“Will you let her know how grateful I am
and tell her I’ll call when I can? I just
have my hands full right now.”
“I already have and I will again,” Rita
assured her. “I can tell from your voice
that something’s eating at you. Why don’t
you tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s Evie,” Keri admitted. “I’m
just not sure how to treat her. With all those
other girls, I had some distance. I had some
perspective. But this is my baby. I breastfed
her. I put her hair in pigtails. And now I
have to take her for reconstructive surgery
on her uterus. I feel like I’m suffering
whiplash every other second.”
“Detective… Keri, I’m going to give
you some advice. It may not always work. But
I think it’s a good general rule. You ready
for it?”
“I am,” Keri said.
“Evie was eight when she was taken. The
girl you have now is still your daughter,
but she’s a different person with different
experiences. She’s not eight anymore. She’s
what, thirteen now?”
“Fourteen next month,” Keri noted.
“Exactly. Even if she hadn’t been through
all these horrors, this would be a difficult
time—raising a teenage girl as a single
mother. But you’ve got it ten times worse.
Still, you have to treat her as the person
she is, not the little girl she was.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, she’s Evelyn Locke, an almost-fourteen-year-old
young person. Your baby is gone. Your pigtailed
princess doesn’t exist anymore. Those monsters
snuffed her out. Don’t get me wrong. She
still needs you desperately. She may still
revert to being a little girl at times. But
don’t baby her. You have to accept who she
is now so she can start to accept it too.
The sooner she sees that you are willing to
move forward rather than dwell on the past,
the sooner she’ll start to do it too.”
“Rita, can I ask you something?”
“One more question,” Rita said, “but
then I have to start charging you.”
“How is it that you can dispense such pearls
of wisdom but you can’t seem to quit your
Newport addiction?”
“That’s the true mystery, isn’t it?”
*
The main word Evie would have used to describe
her first visit to her dad’s house was “awkward.”
Her mom stuck around for the first five minutes,
doing her best to be polite.
It was almost funny to see her standing in
the foyer of his fancy house, wearing her
bulky sweatshirt to cover the bandages on
her ribs, limping around in the walking boot
meant to protect her chipped shinbone, with
the wrap on her left hand to protect the reconstructed
skin on her palm and the angry set of nine
stitches running down the right side of her
face.
Her mom seemed very out of place amid all
the art and expensive furniture. And even
though she was obviously reluctant to leave
Evie alone, she knew she had to. Besides,
she had to go to a funeral for some FBI agent
who had died in a bomb blast while investigating
a case with her last week.
Of course, once she left, Evie was the one
who felt out of place. Her dad introduced
her to his wife, Shalene, who invited her
into the kitchen for a snack. She said their
three-year-old son, Sammy, was napping, but
would be up soon.
Her dad was a talent agent at a major agency
and Shalene was one of his clients. She was
an actress who had a recurring role on a sitcom
called All Aboard. Evie had watched about
a half dozen episodes out of curiosity. It
was like a half-hour version of The Love Boat.
Shalene showed up every other episode or so
as the assistant cruise director who was always
screwing up and causing headaches for her
boss. Evie thought the show was awful and
Shalene was terrible on it, mostly there to
act dumb and wear really tight clothes. She
was great at that at least.
Both of them tried to be nice to her but there
was nothing to talk about. It’s not like
they could ask her about school or how her
week had been. Shalene brought up a few singers
and movies but realized after a bit that Evie
hadn’t really had many chances to keep up
with pop culture in the last few years.
It was almost a relief when Sammy woke up.
He was blond, super-cute, and pretty clearly
a spoiled brat. When Shalene introduced Evie
as his half-sister, he threw his fruit cup
at her and then threw a tantrum. Her dad apologized
repeatedly but Evie was just happy for the
attention to be on someone else.
When her mom picked her up two hours later,
she had a searing pain in her stomach. Her
mom took her to urgent care and that’s when
Evie learned what an ulcer was.
*
The next day, Mags and Evie were sitting in
the mall food court waiting for her mom to
get back from the bathroom when she decided
to ask what was really going on with her mom
and Ray.
To her credit, Mags didn’t get flustered
or anything. She just took a sip of her iced
tea and in that fantastic drawl, asked Evie
a question.
“What do you think is going on, darling?”
“I think they’re into each other for sure,
definitely having sex, maybe dating. But they
don’t want anyone to know because they’re
partners and that’s against the rules or
something.”
Mags nodded in a way that didn’t confirm
anything other than that she had heard what
was said.
“How would you feel if any of that was the
case, Evelyn?”
Evie noticed that in the last few days, Mom,
Ray, and Mags had started calling her Evelyn
instead of Evie. No one had asked her permission.
But she kind of liked it so she didn’t stop
them or say anything.
“I think I’d be cool with it. Dad has
his bimbo wife. I don’t see why Mom can’t
get a little action too.”
A look flickered across Mags’s face that
made Evelyn wonder if she’d said something
wrong. But it was gone in a flash.
“Do you think that’s what your mother
is after with Raymond—a little action?”
Evelyn shrugged. Mags seemed to be debating
how to proceed. Then she glanced up and saw
Evelyn’s mom heading back in their direction.
“Look, darling, it’s not my place to say,
as much as I would dearly love to. But I think
you might want to talk about this with your
mom. I think she wants to protect your feelings.
And it seems you care about her happiness.
Maybe it would be best if you were both straight
with each other. But maybe once I’ve said
my goodbyes.”
*
That night, as they were looking through old
photo albums from when Evelyn was a toddler,
she brought it up.
“I know about Ray, Mom,” Evelyn said out
of the blue.
“What do you know?” her mom asked, deliberately
not looking up from the photo she was staring
at.
“I know you’re more than just partners.”
“That’s true,” she said, finally looking
up at Evelyn. “How do you feel about that?”
“I’m cool with it. I like him. He’s
nice but not ‘fake’ nice. I like that
he looks scary until you get to know him a
bit.”
“Yeah, I like that about him too,” she
said.
“Is he your boyfriend?” Evelyn asked.
“It’s a little complicated. But yeah,
I guess he kind of is.”
“Weird,” Evelyn said.
“What’s weird?”
“It’s just weird to say ‘my mom has
a boyfriend.’”
“You have no idea.”
*
Keri was ready for the screaming that night.
It usually started around two or three in
the morning. If she put Evelyn to sleep and
went back to her own room it would resume
again momentarily. The only way to prevent
it completely was to stay in bed with her
the rest of the night.
For whatever reason, on this night Evelyn
just couldn’t get back to sleep again.
“What are you thinking about?” Keri asked.
“Can I tell you something, Mom?’ she asked.
“Promise you won’t get mad?”
“You can tell me anything, sweetie.”
“I hate sleeping,” she said. “Every
time I do, the nightmares come back.”
“Do you want to talk about them? It might
help.”
“There are so many. Most of them blend together.
After a few years, I learned to block a lot
of what happened out, to just make myself
go numb. But a few stick out.”
“Like what, sweetie?”
“I still sometimes have nightmares of the
day I was taken in the park, of that man running
off with me and you chasing us, trying to
catch up.”
“I still have nightmares about that too,”
Keri admitted quietly.
“And sometimes I flash back to a few months
ago, when I saw you for a second as that old
guy shoved me in the van in the middle of
the night. Do you remember that?”
“I do,” Keri said, remembering the night
she’d come so close to saving Evelyn, before
having her ripped away once again.
“For a second I thought I was safe—that
you would rescue me—and then he smashed
his van into your car and sped away. And I
thought you were dead.”
“I’m so sorry about that, sweetie.”
“It’s not your fault,” Evelyn said.
“I was just worried for you. It took a long
time to find out you hadn’t died. That was
rough. But it wasn’t the worst.”
“What was the worst, sweetie? You can tell
me.”
After a few seconds, Evelyn decided to.
“There was one man. I guess he considered
me a favorite because he kept coming back.
No matter where I got moved, no matter who
I was living with, he’d always show up every
few months.”
“Could you identify him?” Keri asked before
she could stop herself, realizing too late
that this wasn’t an interrogation, it was
a confession. But Evelyn didn’t seem to
care. She continued, staring off at some distant
spot on the far wall.
“No. He always wore a mask. I don’t think
he wanted me to know who he was. But he was
old. I could tell from the wrinkles at the
edge of the mask on his face and because of…his
body. And I think he was rich. He always wore
fancy suits and had on strong cologne. But
that wasn’t what stuck with me.”
“What then?”
“He would bring this needle with him and
inject something into me. It would make it
so I couldn’t move. I would be awake. My
eyes were open. I could…feel things. I just
couldn’t move my body at all. And while
he did things to me, he would hold up his
phone in front of my face so I couldn’t
look away and show me videos—videos of you.
From the press conference after I was taken.
From interviews you did after saving a kid.
He always had something. And while he did
what he wanted to me, he’d whisper things
about how you didn’t love me, how you were
never coming for me, how you’d moved on
to other kids, how this was the closest I’d
ever get you. I could feel the tears streaming
down my face and he’d giggle at it. He’d
say you didn’t want some crybaby for a daughter.”
“I’m so sorry,” Keri said, overwhelmed
at the emotional abuse her daughter had suffered
on top of the all the physical brutality she’d
endured.
“I thought I had gotten over it. But I guess
what that lawyer, Cave, said on the balcony
that night opened it all up again.”
“What Cave said?” Keri asked.
“About me always having to look back at
my degraded face in the mirror for the rest
of my life…”
She stopped talking and looked Keri in the
eyes.
“That’s why I can’t sleep.”
*
Evelyn’s third visit to her dad’s was
the worst.
He was late getting home because of a work
meeting so she was stuck hanging out with
Shalene and Sammy. The little boy, whom Evelyn
had never seen be pleasant, was screaming
about not getting a third rice cereal bar
when she arrived.
Shalene handed him off to the nanny and tried
to make small talk but her heart clearly wasn’t
in it. Part of Evelyn felt a little bad for
her. She was married to a workaholic, had
a horror of a child (although that was partly
her own fault), and now had to contend with
a damaged stepdaughter who had shown up out
of nowhere. Even so, Evelyn could feel the
chill coming off her from across the room.
When her father arrived home, he announced
that the two of them would be seeing the latest
movie from one of his clients, whom he described
as the “hot new young hunk of the moment.”
Evelyn agreed to go, happy for the excuse
not to talk.
The actor was indeed cute, although it turned
out he was more like the seventh person in
the credits than the star. And the movie,
about a group of FBI trainees who take on
a sea monster that rises out of the ocean
for some confusing reason, was a loud waste
of time.
When it was over, they went for ice cream
and Evelyn could tell right away that her
dad had something unpleasant he was preparing
to say. She kept her mouth shut, enjoying
him squirm a little bit.
“So, Evie,” he said. “I have some exciting
news I want to share with you.”
“It’s Evelyn now,” she reminded him.
“Right. Anyway, Shalene and I have decided
that we’re going to pursue getting primary
custody of you.”
“What?” she demanded, feeling a ball of
panic form in her chest. “Have you talked
to Mom about this?”
“Not yet. I wanted to let you know first.”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked incredulously.
“Isn’t it obvious? Your mother does her
best, Evie. But her circumstances aren’t
the greatest. She lives in that place over
a diner.”
“It’s a restaurant.”
“Whatever. It’s not the best environment
for you, with people coming and going at all
hours. And her job doesn’t have the most
stable hours. Sometimes she’s working all
night on a case. Is she just going to leave
you in that apartment by yourself?”
“Dad, not every detail has to be worked
out this second. I’ve been back less than
a week.”
“I understand that, Evie. But I want to
establish the right patterns up front, the
right lifestyle, and I just don’t think
she provides it. Her living situation isn’t…appropriate.”
“Are you talking about Ray?”
“Yes, Evie,” he replied. “I don’t
want you exposed to them…shacking up.”
“Are you kidding me, Dad? I’ve been raped
hundreds of times in the last year alone,
thousands since I was taken. I’m being treated
for multiple sexually transmitted diseases.
The doctors aren’t sure I’ll ever have
kids because my insides are so torn up. I’ve
been beaten and drugged and used as a human
sex doll. I’ve seen girls murdered in front
of me for saying the wrong thing to the wrong
guy. And you think me seeing Mom cuddling
with her boyfriend is bad role modeling?”
“Jesus, Evie,” he said, looking around
nervously at the now silent ice cream shop.
“That’s not what I…”
“No, just stop,” she said, holding up
her hand. “It’s not like you really want
me anyway. I know you gave up on me a long
time ago. I know you thought I was dead. I
know part of you hoped I was dead because
it was easier than dealing with the mess that
is the real me. I know having me back is an
inconvenience to your perfect little life
with your ice queen wife and your spoiled
little prince of a son. You don’t want me.
You just don’t want to look bad by not going
through the motions.”
“That’s not true, Evie!”
“I told you, it’s Evelyn! Just take me
home.”
She didn’t speak to him on the ride back
to Playa del Rey. Nor did she say goodbye
when he dropped her off on the street in front
of the apartment. She got out and slammed
the door without looking back, taking the
stairs two at a time.
*
Keri returned from the hospital just as the
sun was setting around 5 p.m. The doctors
had taken off the walking boot, giving her
permission to put her full weight on her leg,
as long as she didn’t overdo it.
She saw the text from Stephen saying he’d
dropped Evelyn off at the apartment around
3:30 that afternoon. Apparently, the visit
hadn’t gone very well and he wanted to talk.
She didn’t feel up to it at the moment and
decided to wait until after she’d had a
chance to hear Evelyn’s version of events.
She knew something was off the second she
unlocked the door and stepped inside. All
the lights were off but she could hear the
water running in the bathroom. She pulled
out her personal gun and edged into the living
room. Nothing seemed out of place.
Slowly and quietly, she moved past Evelyn’s
empty room. The bathroom door was slightly
ajar and she could see what looked like the
flicker of candlelight emanating from inside.
She took the safety off the gun and shoved
the door open a bit with her toe.
Multiple candles were lit, sitting on the
shelf above the sink. Evelyn’s clothes from
that day were lying on the floor, soaked.
Then Keri noticed that the entire bathroom
floor was covered in a thin layer of water.
She pushed the door open all the way.
Evelyn was lying in the tub with her eyes
closed, her arms resting on the sides. The
water in the tub, more red than clear, was
spilling out onto the floor. Blood was dripping
down her daughter’s fingertips from deep
cuts in both wrists. A kitchen knife rested
on the tile below.
“No!” Keri heard herself scream as she
dropped the gun and rushed to her baby’s
side. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly
around Evelyn’s right wrist as she looked
for any sign of life.
“Evie!” she screamed. “Evie, wake up!”
She grabbed a second towel and wrapped it
around her daughter’s left wrist before
lifting her naked body out of the tub and
laying her on the bathroom floor. She took
out her phone, dialed 911, put it on speaker,
and placed it on the edge of the sink before
kneeling down and listening for breath sounds.
Hearing none, she began CPR.
The phone rang and after about four minutes
of a recorded voice telling her to continue
to hold, a voice came on the line.
“Nine-one-one emergency. What are you reporting?”
“This is Detective Keri Locke, LAPD. I need
an ambulance at the 400 block of Culver Boulevard
in Playa del Rey. My daughter has attempted
suicide. She slit her wrists and has lost
a lot of blood. She’s unconscious. I’m
performing CPR but she’s not responding.”
“All right, Detective, Stay calm. An ambulance
will be there very soon.”
“Get it here now, God dammit!”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
THREE MONTHS LATER
Keri stood at the front door for a long time
before she finally knocked. She forced a smile
onto her face even though she found it hard
to remember how to form one. Her stomach twisted
up in a knot despite her best efforts.
Breathe. Remember to breathe, Keri.
After a few seconds, a familiar raspy voice
on the other side of the door shouted “Hello,”
calming her a little even before she saw the
accompanying face.
Rita Skraeling undid the multiple locks and
pulled the door open. It dwarfed her tiny,
wizened frame, and the bright April sun cast
an unflattering spotlight on her wrinkled,
spotted skin. She adjusted her tight bun of
gray hair and stared at Keri through her thick
glasses.
“How’s it going, pretty lady?” she wheezed.
“You tell me,” Keri replied. “Is she
ready?”
“Are any of us ever truly ready?”
“Okay, Yoda,” Keri said, rolling her eyes.
“Is she ready to get in the car, I mean?”
“I think they’re just finishing up Book
Club. Want to come in?”
“Yes, please,” Keri said, trying not to
sound too anxious as Rita closed the door
behind her. “How’d it go last night?”
“Not too bad, I think. They spent most of
the evening chattering away in Susan and Darla’s
room. I mostly left them be.”
“Did she seem, you know, pretty well adjusted?”
“All things considered, I’d say so,”
Rita said as they walked down the hall.
“All things considered,” Keri repeated,
considering the weight of those words.
“Well, you have to keep some perspective,
Keri. Three months ago, your daughter tried
to kill herself. To be where she is now is
pretty impressive.”
“You don’t think I’m rushing her?”
“Personally, I think waiting any longer
would be coddling her. After getting out of
the ICU, she spent how long in the psychiatric
hospital?”
“A month.”
“Where she got intense therapy,” Rita
noted. “And how many days did you visit
her there?”
“Every day.”
“And after they gave her authorization to
leave, you decided to ease her transition
back into the world by having her stay here
with us for a while. How long was that again?”
“Another month,” Keri reminded her.
“That’s right,” Rita said. “I thought
that was a pretty good idea, by the way. Getting
to talk to other girls who went through what
she did offered a whole different kind of
therapy from what she got at the hospital.
Plus, she got to eat lots of s’mores. Who
doesn’t love s’mores? How often did you
visit her here by the way?”
“Every day?”
“Oh yes, now I remember,” Rita said wryly.
“I couldn’t get you out of here. So after
we finally sent you two on your way, you took
her home. And things have gone okay there,
with the homeschooling with the tutor and
the tour of the school she’ll be going to
and play dates with the neighbor girl?”
“I don’t think they call them play dates
when they’re fourteen,” Keri said. “But
I take your point. Things have gone pretty
well. Fewer nightmares, medication seems to
be working. It was kind of a bummer to celebrate
her birthday in a psychiatric hospital. Still,
the therapist says she’s making progress.”
Rita stopped walking just before turning the
corner of the hallway.
“And you’re concerned that you’re rushing
her?” she asked skeptically.
“You have to admit, it’s a lot in a pretty
short amount of time. And then she asks to
spend her last Saturday night before starting
school back here. I didn’t know if she was
maybe backsliding.”
Rita smiled. Keri was surprised at the warmth
of it. Very occasionally this woman who seemed
so hard and tough let her guard down. It felt
as rare as an eclipse and it usually meant
something significant.
“First,” Rita said, “it is a lot. But
Evelyn’s been through far more than this.
She’s tough. She can take it. Second, maybe
she is a little nervous about starting school
tomorrow. But I consider it healthy that she
decided to seek out her support system when
she started feeling that way. These girls
are part of that support system now.”
They rounded the corner and Keri saw four
girls seated in the sun room that served as
the library. Susan Granger was leading them
in a discussion of their most recent Nancy
Drew book club entry.
Keri was amazed at how healthy and self-assured
the girl looked, nothing like the teenage
prostitute she’d found on the street last
year. She was wearing sweats, with her blonde
hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Her face,
free of heavy makeup and fear, appeared almost
serene.
Evelyn sat in a beanbag chair by the window,
her head down in concentration, studying a
page and nodding in agreement at something
Susan was saying. She seemed to sense eyes
on her and looked up.
“Mom,” she exclaimed happily, her face
breaking into a smile. She dropped her book
on the floor and leapt up, rushed over, and
wrapped her arms around Keri.
“Nice sleepover?”
“It was really great,” she said. “Have
you ever heard of ‘Mad Libs’?”
“I have. Wow, that’s borderline educational.
I’m impressed.”
“Not so much,” Susan said, walking over,
“especially when you use ‘fart’ as your
noun every time. Hi, Detective Locke.”
“Hi, Susan,” Keri said, pulling her in
for a hug. Then assuming a mock angry tone,
she added, “I hope you didn’t teach my
daughter that word.”
“Me? Never.”
“No, you, never. Well, I hate to cut book
club short but Evelyn and I have to do some
last-minute clothes shopping before the big
day tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah,” Susan said. “Don’t you
start back as a detective tomorrow too?”
“I do. I feel like it’s the first day
back at school for me as well.”
“So they cleared you in that investigation
and everything?” Susan asked.
“My goodness, Susan Granger, I didn’t
know you had time to read the metro section
of the Times in addition to all your book
club selections. The situation is a little
complicated but the short version is that
my suspension is lifted for now and I’m
allowed to go after the bad guys again.”
“They better look out!” Susan said.
“Yes,” Rita agreed. “I think they’d
better.”
She saw them to the door and gave them both
hugs as they left.
“Bye, Ev!” Susan called to Evelyn from
down the hall, using the nickname she’d
enthusiastically embraced.
“Bye, Suze!” Evelyn called back, waving.
Keri smiled involuntarily at the nicknames
and kept the grin plastered on her face even
after she saw her daughter’s waving hand
and caught a fleeting glimpse of the ugly
red scar that ran horizontally along the inside
of her wrist.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Despite everything, Keri was nervous. On the
surface, there was no reason to be. Everything
had gone well that morning. She had gone into
Evelyn’s room to get her up for school and
found her already awake, dressed and reading.
School didn’t start until 8 a.m. but that’s
when Keri’s shift started so she’d arranged
to drop Evelyn at a neighbor’s house at
7:45. Keri knew this kind of arrangement wasn’t
unusual for working parents. But this one
was a little out of the ordinary.
The family she had dropped Evelyn with was
the Raineys. What made the circumstances different
was that their then twelve-year-old daughter,
Jessica, had been abducted by a religious
fanatic who planned to kill her. Keri had
managed to find and save her just in time.
That all happened only days before Keri rescued
Evelyn.
It just so happened that Jessica and Evelyn
were the same age, would be attending the
same school, and lived half a mile from each
other. Tim and Carolyn Rainey had insisted
on having Keri and Evelyn over for dinner
a few times in recent months. The girls had
bonded, partly over ridiculous TV shows and
partly, Keri suspected, because they had both
experienced horrors few other kids their age
could even imagine. So the Raineys had no
problem taking Evelyn to school.
With carpooling resolved, Keri had to admit
that there must be another reason she was
sitting anxiously in her car in the LAPD West
Los Angeles Pacific Division parking lot.
The truth was it was probably multiple reasons.
One had nothing to do with work and she tried
to push it out of her head. Despite the fact
that it was an argument with him that had
precipitated Evelyn’s suicide attempt, Stephen
was still pursuing primary custody. He’d
hired a big-time law firm that was already
drowning Keri in paperwork. She had yet to
hire a lawyer.
The other issues that had her insides churning
were at least work-related. First and foremost,
she wasn’t sure just how safe her job really
was. She had hinted at it to Susan but her
employment as a member of the LAPD was still
not secure.
Her original suspension was a result of her
killing Brian “the Collector” Wickwire,”
the man who had abducted Evelyn. If she were
to be drugged with truth serum, Keri might
admit that, in a fit of rage, she had choked
Wickwire to death, even as he was already
at death’s door due to a massive head wound
suffered when they both fell ten feet onto
concrete during a fight.
But there was no way to prove it. Besides,
the only person who seemed interested in doing
so up until recently was Jackson Cave, who
wanted to keep Keri off the force so she couldn’t
interfere with his business. So he’d used
his police contacts to get her investigated
by Internal Affairs.
And yet, with Cave now dead and the Chief
of Police intent on closing the investigation,
it was somehow still ongoing, if mostly dormant
right now. That meant there was someone else
out there with enough power to keep it alive
despite the wishes of the most powerful cop
in the city and despite Keri’s legendary
status as the Saver of Lost Children, including
her own daughter.
Beyond that unpleasantness, there was also
the fact that somewhere in that police station,
in her very unit, was a mole, someone who
was passing information to the very people
who had been hiding Evelyn all those years.
And even though she had her daughter back
now, it still meant she didn’t know who
she could trust when things got bad. That
made her very nervous.
A knock on her window snapped her back to
reality. She looked up to see Ray standing
by the door. She opened it.
“I’ve been standing here for a good five
minutes watching your mouth contort itself
all different ways,” he said. “Are you
having some kind of seizure?”
“Is that the kind of comment I should expect
from a supportive boyfriend?” Keri demanded,
trying to sound put out.
“I thought that around here I was just a
supportive partner,” he replied, assuming
a mock secretive tone.
“Are we even partners anymore?” she asked.
It was a reasonable question. When Keri had
gone on leave after Evelyn’s suicide attempt,
Ray was temporarily partnered up with Frank
Brody, who had been about to retire.
Brody, a slovenly excuse for a human being
and perhaps the laziest detective Keri had
ever encountered, generally seemed more interested
in finding the right condiments for his hot
dog lunches than finding witnesses for his
cases. But she had to admit that he had stepped
up when she went on leave, postponing his
retirement so that Ray could re-team with
Keri upon her return, rather than be forced
to get a new, long-term partner. Now that
she was back, this was to be his last week
on the job.
“I think Frank will be happy to make way
for you,” Ray said. “I’ve replaced you
as his least favorite work colleague.”
“Well, I guess I better get in there and
see if I can regain the title,” Keri said,
closing her car door and walking toward the
station with a purposeful stride that didn’t
reflect how she felt inside.
When she stepped through the doors, she was
met with a surprise. The whole station team
was crowded into the lobby and began applauding
her.
“What the…?” she said, looking at Ray.
“Sorry,” he replied, shrugging. “They
made me keep it a secret.”
“What is this for?” she asked, when the
clapping had died down.
“It’s for never quitting,” shouted Detective
Manny Suarez. “No matter how many times
you got knocked down.”
“And for getting the bad guys,” Lieutenant
Hillman added. “You know how many cases
we closed because of that Vista bust? Thirty-two.
That made our whole year in January.”
“Now we can really rest on our laurels,”
Frank Brody said.
“So, nothing different for you then, Brody,”
Keri jabbed.
Everyone laughed and with the glory of the
moment punctured, folks began to shuffle out
of the lobby and back to work.
“Fun’s over,” Hillman shouted over the
crowd, making it official. “I need Missing
Persons in Conference A for a status meeting.”
Keri followed Ray into the conference room
and took a seat as the rest of the team assembled.
The unit wasn’t big but they were close-knit
and, until the Ghost’s warning about a mole,
Keri had felt comfortable trusting her safety
to almost any of them.
They were led by Lieutenant Cole Hillman,
a gruff, graying, paunchy man in his early
fifties with deep worry lines and a penchant
for short sleeves with loose shirt-tails.
Sitting casually to his right was Brody, who
made up for his boss’s harried demeanor
with an unconcerned and worry-free disposition
that almost shouted “I’m retiring in a
week.”
On the other side of Lieutenant Hillman sat
Detective Manny Suarez, whose sleepy eyes
and forty-something stubble masked a keen
intellect and tough, relentless investigative
skills. And despite his diminutive size at
barely five foot five, he was a pit bull.
Keri had seen him take down men a foot taller
and a hundred pounds heavier than him using
little more than elbows, knees, and fury.
Beside him sat Kevin Edgerton, the unit’s
resident tech genius. He was the one who typically
used his unparalleled computer skills to uncover
the connections the rest of them couldn’t
immediately see. Tall and lanky, he looked
like he rarely brushed his brown hair. He
had just turned thirty and in recent months,
Hillman had been pushing him to do more field
work in the hopes of making his street instincts
as sharp as his online ones.
To his left was Garrett “Grunt Work” Patterson.
In his mid-thirties, Patterson was slender
and bookish and wore wire-rimmed glasses.
He was even more reticent to go in the field
than Edgerton. But unlike with Edgerton, Hillman
seemed to have accepted that Patterson had
reached his peak.
The guy was a solid tech man but his real
gift was his willingness to spend countless
hours devouring the driest, most mind-numbing
data for patterns than might be useful. Property
records, financial reports, even cell phone
numbers made him giddy in a way that Keri
found borderline disconcerting. She didn’t
love how he sometimes seemed to forget that
they were dealing with crimes and not just
statistical thought experiments. Empathy wasn’t
really his strong suit.
Finally, there was Jamie Castillo, sitting
one seat over, next to Ray. She wasn’t quite
staring daggers at Keri. But she didn’t
have a warm, welcoming smile on her face either.
She was still clearly pissed that she hadn’t
been looped in when Keri had faked her death
after the Black Widower sent her car over
that Malibu cliff.
Keri had badly wanted to tell her the truth
back then and still ached to now. She was
almost certain that there was no way Officer
Jamila Cassandra Castillo, who said she joined
the police force because she was inspired
by Keri, was the mole. But when it came to
Evelyn’s safety and finding out who had
put it at risk, almost certain wasn’t enough.
So she held her tongue.
“Okay, everyone,” Hillman began. “It’s
nice to have the whole gang back together,
even if it’s only for a little while. Brody,
since this is your last week, we’re switching
you out to avoid leaving you with any pending
cases at the end of the week. You’ll team
with Castillo on any cases that look like
quick hits.”
“After thirty-five years of service, this
is how you reward me?” Brody whined. “By
pairing me with some rookie female who doesn’t
have her detective’s badge yet?”
“Believe me, Brody,” Castillo said, “the
feeling’s mutual. The thought of spending
the next week in a car with you, your sauerkraut
hot dogs, and your uncontrollable gas is enough
to make me want to walk a beat again.”
“Okay, I get it,” Hillman said, cutting
her off. “You two are doing a great job
of throwing us off the scent of your secret
affair. Now shut up so I can get through this.
Patterson, as usual you’ll hold down the
fort here with me at HQ. Suarez and Edgerton,
keep looking into that string of missing homeless
vets downtown. What are we up to now?”
“Four in the last month, Lieutenant,”
Suarez said. “All of them have gone missing
in the same six-block radius.”
“Keep me posted,” Hillman said before
turning to Keri and Ray. “And now for what
everyone’s been waiting for, the reunion
to end all reunions. The partnership that
gets my gastric juices all unsettled, it’s
Sands and Locke together again.”
The rest of the unit gave a smattering of
sarcastic applause. Ray, though sitting, pretended
to bow. Keri gave everyone the finger.
“Looks like that sprained finger is all
healed up,” Suarez said, smiling.
“Be careful, Suarez,” Keri said. “Everything’s
healed—ribs, leg, shoulder. So I’m in
prime hobbit ass-kicking shape.”
“Luckily,” Hillman interrupted, “since
you’re in such good shape now, I have something
to help you hit the ground running. I got
a call about a half hour ago from a local
university about a sorority girl gone missing.
Her name is Tara Justin. There was some kind
of pledge prank last night so they don’t
think it’s serious and she may have just
gotten lost. But they called it in just to
be safe. Seems like an easy case to get your
feet wet again, Locke. You up for it?”
“Sure,” she said, standing up. “Let’s
do it. Where are we headed?”
“That’s the one wrinkle,” Hillman said.
Keri could tell from his tone that it was
more than just a wrinkle.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The university is LMU.”
Keri stared at him, trying to keep her expression
neutral. Loyola Marymount University was the
school she used to teach at, where she’d
worked as a professor when Evelyn had been
abducted, when it had all first gone wrong.
CHAPTERTWENTY EIGHT
Keri let Ray drive, in part so she could think,
in part because her fingers and toes had felt
numb since they left the station. Hillman
had offered to give the case to Brody and
Castillo if she wasn’t up for it but she
had simply shaken her head and walked out
of the conference room toward the car.
Now, as they approached the school’s main
entrance, she wondered if she should have
taken him up on the offer. Keri hadn’t been
on the LMU campus since she’d “resigned”
her position five years ago. Technically,
it was voluntary. But the parents of the student
she’d slept with, who thought he was in
love with her and dropped out of school, had
threatened to sue the school unless something
was done.
It was the final blow to her slow-motion professional
car crash, which began when Evelyn was taken.
It got worse when she and Stephen became emotional
strangers afterward, exacerbated by her heavy
drinking and decision to seek sexual solace
in the arms of other random men. When Stephen
left her and she started showing up at class
drunk, it was only a matter of time. The sad
little affair with a needystudent was only
the nail in the coffin of her career and,
for a while it seemed, her life.
This would be the first time she’d been
on campus since security escorted her and
her one banker’s box off school grounds
all those years ago. As they turned left off
Lincoln Boulevard onto LMU Drive, Keri tried
to ignore the dull feeling of nausea that
tickled her gut.
She had to admit that the place still looked
as gorgeous as she remembered. Resting on
a series of hills in Westchester, the campus
had a view of the entire city and overlooked
the Pacific Ocean, which was only about two
miles away. The school’s strong Jesuit tradition
was visually contrasted by the casual, beachy
vibe of the place.
Ray checked in at the guard gate and parked
at University Hall, the administration building,
which was a long office complex monstrosity
set down the hills and off from the main campus.
They passed through the maze of hallways,
Keri leading the way to their destination
by memory. As they got closer, Ray leaned
over.
“You good?” he asked.
Keri nodded and he left it at that. When they
arrived in the Dean’s office, his secretary
looked up and her eyes grew wide. Keri remembered
her and could tell it was mutual.
“How may I help you?” the woman asked.
“We’re here to see Dean Weymouth,” Ray
said, taking the initiative. “I’m Detective
Raymond Sands. This is my partner, Detective
Keri Locke. I believe our lieutenant called
ahead.”
“Ah, yes,” the secretary said, trying
to act as if everything was normal. “I’ll
let him know you’re here. Just give me a
moment, please.”
She stepped into the office behind her and
Keri and Ray exchanged a familiar look.
It’s game time.
The secretary returned after a few seconds
and ushered them in. Keri had only been in
this office once before, the day she’d met
with Weymouth, the university’s lawyer,
the parents of the boy she she’d slept with,
their lawyer, and her official faculty rep.
“Thank you for coming,” Dean Weymouth
said, standing up to greet them. “Please
sit down.”
In his early sixties, lean and bearded, Weymouth
was much as Keri remembered him. He even wore
the same three-piece-style suit that she always
thought a bit much for an academic environment.
His broad smile was so convincing that no
one without prior knowledge could have guessed
his shared history with Keri based on his
demeanor.
“Thanks for seeing us, Dean,” Ray said.
“If you don’t mind, we’ll stand. In
a situation like this, every second is crucial
and we’d like to get started right away
if we could.”
“Of course, and I’ll help in any way I
can. But do you really think it’s as time-sensitive
as all that? I mean, officially, yes, this
girl is missing. But as I believe you were
made aware, this was part of a sorority event—unsanctioned,
mind you—that often results in students
temporarily falling off the radar. My understanding
is that the only reason you were called was
due to a hyper-vigilant sorority sister.”
“Better too vigilant than not vigilant enough,”
Keri said, speaking for the first time. “I’m
sure you’d agree, Dean.”
“Most assuredly, I would. I didn’t mean
to suggest otherwise. And may I say what a
pleasure it is to see you again under such…
dissimilar circumstances to our last meeting,
Profess...um, Detect…what should I call
you these days?”
“Detective Locke is fine, thanks. The PhD
is on ice for the time being.”
“No doubt. So what I can I do for you?”
“Why don’t we walk to save time?” Keri
suggested, turning on her heel and leaving
the office as she continued. “We’re going
to want to meet with all the girls in the
sorority as soon as we leave you. I understand
that this may just be a pledge hazing ritual
that went a little sideways. But until we’ve
got Tara Justin securely back on campus, we
need to treat this like any other case.”
Keri led the way back down the hall toward
the elevator. Ray followed, with Dean Weymouth
rushing to keep up. He motioned for his secretary
to follow and she jumped up from her desk,
grabbing a pen and notepad to scribble furious
notes.
“We’ll need all her student and academic
records as well,” Ray added.
“Is that really necessary?” Weymouth asked,
breathing heavily as he tried to catch up.
“Probably not,” Ray admitted. “But since
we’re cops we tend to stick to the whole
‘too vigilant’ thing. Better safe than
sorry.”
“We’ll also need contact information for
her family,” Keri said. “Do you know where
she’s from?”
“I only glanced at her student record,”
Weymouth admitted. “It appears she’s local
but much of the other information was nonspecific,
frustratingly so.”
“That’s odd, don’t you think?” Keri
noted. “I thought these kids had to give
you everything short of DNA analysis to get
in.”
“That might be an overstatement, Detective
Locke. But I will admit that it is unusual
to have such an imprecise student record.”
“Send everything to this guy,” Ray said,
handing him Garrett Patterson’s number.
“He’ll figure out what’s going on there.”
“As to the sorority,” Weymouth said, handing
the number over to his secretary as they reached
the elevator, “they don’t have an official
house. None of the LMU fraternities or sororities
does. But they do have a rented house where
many of the girls live. It serves as an informal
house of sorts. I’ve arranged for their
Greek Advisor to be there when you meet with
the students. We have a strict policy about
protecting those in our charge from anything
untoward.”
The elevator door opened. Keri and Ray stepped
inside and turned to face the Dean, who had
a self-righteous half-smile on his face. His
unspoken callback to Keri’s “untoward”
behavior of the past hung in the air.
She knew something like this was coming at
some point—a subtle dig at her disreputable
history at the school. And though she she’d
been dreading it, Keri found that now that
it was out there, it didn’t have the sting
she’d anticipated.
For whatever reason, maybe years of dealing
with the horrors of missing children and the
human scum who harm them, a jab from an overdressed
academic didn’t have the impact she had
expected. Still, Keri Locke wasn’t the type
to let it pass. She opened her mouth to respond
but Ray beat her to it.
“We’ll take that under advisement, Dean
Weymouth,” he said in a tone as cold as
ice. “We respect your policy, of course.
As I’m sure you’ll respect that we have
the right to fully interrogate anyone over
the age of eighteen as we see fit. That might
be in the presence of an advisor. It might
not. It might be in groups. It might be solo.
It might be on campus. It might be down at
the station. After all, we at the LAPD have
a strict policy of upholding justice, no matter
what. You dig?”
The elevator doors closed before Weymouth
could pick his jaw up off the floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
It took less than a half hour of interviews
with the sorority sisters for Keri and Ray
to come to two conclusions. First, no one
was entirely sure what had happened to Tara
Justin last night. Second, no one seemed to
be as concerned as they should be.
After talking to multiple sisters and pledges,
all with the Greek Advisor sitting unobtrusively
in the corner of the room, they were able
to at least nail down the basic situation
and timeline.
Last night had been the final evening of a
weekend-long pledge initiation. It culminated
with all the pledges, in this case seven girls,
being driven, blindfolded, to a semi-remote
mountain road in Malibu, where they would
be dropped off individually around 10 p.m.
at night. They had to find their way back
to the sorority house by 6 a.m. this morning.
The sisters called the event The Expedition.
According to the sisters, it wasn’t as challenging
as it sounded. All the pledges were dropped
off within a half mile of each other. And
while their surroundings seemed remote at
first, they were actually only about three
miles from a popular campground and the heavily
traveled Pacific Coast Highway.
They were allowed to keep their wallets and
phones, which didn’t get cell signals where
they were dropped off, but did once they got
lower down the mountain. Most girls joined
up with some or all of their pledge class
with an hour or so.
They were allowed to get back to campus however
they liked, whether via bus, Uber, cab, or
even calling a friend to get them. They were
not, however, allowed to hitchhike. Typically,
girls made it back by 3 or 4 a.m. No one had
ever missed the 6 a.m. cutoff until today.
None of the other six pledges reported ever
running into Tara at any point on their walk
down the mountain. But since they arrived
back at campus in two separate groups of two
and four and basically crashed right away,
neither group realized she wasn’t among
them.
It turned out that the sister who had called
911 was the one who’d dropped Tara off in
the first place. Her name was Jan Henley and
she was a senior. She’d just happened to
drop by the house this morning on her way
to her job at the student center to see how
things had gone.
She wasn’t able to determine for sure that
no one could recall Tara coming back until
around 7:30 a.m. because most sisters were
sleeping in after staying up much of the night
partying while waiting for the pledges to
return. Due to the extended Easter holiday,
there were no classes today or tomorrow (the
reason the pledge initiation was planned for
tonight). As a result, reaching everyone was
a challenge.
Eventually, when it became clear she wasn’t
back, people called her cell, her dorm phone,
and her roommate, all without success. That’s
when Jan, against her sisters’ wishes, called
the police.
“I need you to show us where you dropped
Tara off,” Keri told her.
“Now?” Jan asked. “I’m already on
break from work to talk to you. They won’t
be happy if I just bail.”
“Yes, now,” Keri said, trying not to sound
annoyed at the girl’s myopia, “It’s
after ten a.m. That means’s Tara’s been
missing for over twelve hours. As to your
job, we’ll smooth it over. You’re helping
with a police investigation, Jan. No one’s
going to give you a hard time. And I need
the number for Tara’s roommate too.”
On the way to Malibu, Keri called Edgerton
to have him trace the GPS on Tara’s phone.
He said the battery was dead but the GPS was
active and still in the general area that
Jan claimed to have dropped her off.
“Do you have a photo of Tara?” she asked
Jan, who nodded and scrolled through her phone
until she found one. “Send it to me.”
When it arrived, Keri studied the image. Tara
was an extremely attractive but unpretentious-looking
brunette. She appeared to be a typical eighteen-year-old
college freshman, with her hair pulled back
in a practical ponytail, her smile warm but
slightly guarded. Keri thought there was something
familiar about her large brown eyes, as if
they’d perhaps met before, but she couldn’t
quite place it.
Frustrated, she shook off the feeling and
called Tara’s roommate, a girl named Alice
Oberon. She got voicemail and left a message
making it clear that she needed a return call
urgently. But she hadn’t heard anything
by the time she lost cell service as they
started into the mountains an hour later.
Keri tried to ignore the shiver of anxiety
that rippled up her spine as they drove past
the road that led up to Jackson Cave’s place
and the canyon where she’d almost died three
months earlier. She saw Ray glance at her
out of the corner of his eye but he said nothing.
Jan had them turn right at Mulholland Highway,
just past the Leo Carrillo Campground. They
drove up the mountain road about three miles
before she pointed to a small turnout off
to the left. Ray pulled over and they got
out.
The turnout abutted a small wooded area with
a bench and a covered trash can. They wandered
around for a while but didn’t see anything
unusual.
“When did you take off her blindfold?”
Ray asked.
“Once I parked,” Jan answered.
“And did you tell her anything?” he asked.
“Give her any hints?”
“Yeah, I said ‘everybody likes going down.’”
“Really?” Keri asked incredulously.
“It was the only hint we were allowed to
give,” Jan said, sounding embarrassed. “I
didn’t come up with it. The guys in our
partner fraternity thought it was funny.”
“They sound like real charmers,” Keri
said, feeling a mix of disgust and something
else she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Jan looked like she wanted to reply but bit
her tongue at the last second. Before Keri
could call her on it, Ray jumped in.
“What do you want to do now?” he asked
Keri, choosing to steer clear of discussion
of sexual politics.
“I’m going to walk back down the road,”
Keri said, “follow the path Tara would have
likely taken last night. Why don’t you and
Jan go down to the campground? If she made
it there, maybe someone saw her. I’ll meet
you there.”
Ray nodded and they headed out. Keri walked
over to the bench and sat down for a moment,
trying to push all the frustrations and anxieties
out of her mind. Tara Justin needed her full
focus and attention. She closed her eyes,
took several long deep breaths, then slowly
stood up and looked around.
Nothing was different but she felt somehow
calmer and more alert. She began to walk down
the hill, keeping to the edge of the road
as she imagined Tara would have. After about
a quarter of a mile, she came to another small
turnout with a wooded area next to it. This
one was slightly more elaborate, with a picnic
table and both a trash and a recycling bin.
She walked over and glanced around but didn’t
see anything out of the ordinary. She was
about to move back out to the road when she
noticed the sunlight reflecting off a surface
near a bush about twenty yards deeper into
the forest.
She walked over and looked down. It was partially
covered by leaves but easily identifiable
as a cell phone. Keri put on her evidence
gloves and picked it up. The thing was beat
up pretty bad. She couldn’t tell if it had
been intentionally smashed or just hit the
ground wrong, but the screen was shattered
and there were bits of plastic hanging loose.
She bagged it and continued down the hill.
By the time she reached the campground thirty
minutes later, she hadn’t found anything
else noteworthy besides a blister on her pinkie
toe from all the steep walking.
As she wandered into the main campground area,
she saw some kind of commotion and picked
up the pace despite the discomfort in her
foot. Ray had a shirtless man with a backward
baseball cap in cuffs sitting in the backseat
of his car. Another guy and two women, apparently
his friends, were speaking loudly and getting
uncomfortably close to Ray, who was trying
to talk them down. They all wore swimsuits
and seemed to be in varying stages of drunkenness.
Jan, standing behind Ray, was pointing at
the man with the cuffs on, and sounded borderline
hysterical. Keri unclipped the holster of
her gun but otherwise stayed cool as she approached.
“What’s going on here?” she asked.
Jan turned to her and she could see the girl
was crying.
“That girl,” she yelled, pointing at one
of the women, “is wearing Tara’s headband!
And that guy in cuffs had her wallet!”
CHAPTER THIRTY
The woman in the headband, who had aggressively
bleached blonde hair, gritted her teeth and
her face twisted up. Suddenly she was shouting
too, leaning in across Ray so that her nose
was inches from Jan’s.
“Bitch, don’t accuse me!”
“What did you do to my friend?” Jan shouted
back, not giving an inch.
“Don’t get up in my woman’s face like
that!” yelled the cuffed guy, trying to
stand up.
“Everybody calm down,” Ray said as he
put his left hand on the man’s shoulder,
firmly shoving him back down. With his right
forearm, he eased the headband woman back
a foot, creating some much needed personal
space for everyone. Keri followed his lead
and grabbed Jan’s forearm, pulling her back
behind her.
“Don’t you put your hands on my woman!”
the cuffed guy shouted at Ray from his neutralized
position.
Keri’s patience was already running low
after the long walk down the mountain and
she didn’t much like the way the guy said
“you” to Ray. So she decided it was time
to stretch some of the cop muscles that had
atrophied over the last few months.
“You,” she said, pointing at the guy in
cuffs, “shut your mouth now. That is, unless
you want to spend the next twenty-four hours
in county lockup in your swimming trunks and
nothing else. You’ll be very popular, I
promise.”
His “woman” started to respond but Keri
wheeled in her direction and shut her down
with a withering glare before focusing her
words on her.
“You will stop getting in my partner’s
personal space and you will stop eyeballing
that girl behind me. I have a pair of cuffs
too and I’m itching to use them. So take
five steps back, along with your friends there,
and don’t say another word until you’re
spoken to. The first one of you who opens
your mouth gets a free trip to downtown LA.
And I don’t think that’s what you had
in mind for this little vacation.”
The woman’s mouth twitched in silent agitation
but she did what Keri instructed, as did her
friends. Keri looked at Ray, who leaned over
and spoke quietly in her ear.
“Wallet definitely belongs to Tara Justin—has
her ID and everything. The guy says he found
it on the ground last night. Can’t speak
to the headband but Jan there seems pretty
sure of herself. Hard to imagine that it just
fell to the ground too.”
“What are you thinking?” Keri asked.
“I’ve already called for backup. One way
or another, this guy’s going down for something.
But we need to interrogate him back at the
station. I genuinely don’t know whether
he found the wallet, stole it, or worse.”
“What about the headband?” Keri asked.
“Things got out of hand before I could ask
any questions about it.”
“Mind if I take a go at her?”
“Go for it,” Ray said. “But maybe find
somewhere a little more private?”
“Okay, you got things under control here?”
“I’m going to try not to be insulted by
that question.”
“Sorry, partner,” Keri said and gave him
a quick pat on the butt to reinforce her remorse.
“You’re forgiven,” he muttered, trying
not to smile.
“Jan, you go hang out in the park ranger’s
office until we get you,” Keri said, before
turning to the bleach-haired woman in the
headband. “And you’re with me, Blondie.
We need to chat.”
She led the woman to the picnic table of an
unoccupied campsite about fifty feet away
and motioned for her to sit down.
“Okay, Blondie, what’s your real name?”
she asked.
“Marla.”
“Marla, I’m going to be straight with
you. I’m looking for a missing teenage girl.
She was in this area last night. Her friend
thinks you’re wearing her headband. I’m
inclined to believe her. Despite that, unless
you were somehow involved in this girl’s
disappearance, your best bet is to come clean
and tell me what you know. If you had something
to do with her going missing, by all means,
lie. But if you didn’t, lying to me now
will get you in more trouble than telling
the truth. I’m willing to cut you some slack
for any minor legal transgressions. But this
is a one-time offer. So think before you speak.”
Marla was quiet for several seconds, seemingly
fighting an internal battle between her sense
of pride and her good judgment. The latter
finally won out.
“Listen, the girl was crazy,” she finally
said, her words coming out in a rush. “We
were coming back from the beach and ran into
her. At first I thought she was heading out
there because she was wearing a bikini. But
then I realized they were her underclothes.
She was walking around in her bra and panties!”
“Did she say anything?” Keri asked, choosing
to accept Marla’s version of events for
the time being, no matter how skeptically
she viewed them.
“She sounded real out of it, like she was
high on something. But nothing good, I think.
Her eyes were all red like she’d been crying.
I didn’t get that at first. I really did
say I liked her headband. She just took it
off and gave it to me, said she didn’t need
it anymore.”
“And the wallet?” Keri pressed.
Marla looked at her with equal parts suspicion
and hope.
“You promise nothing bad will happen to
Nicky if I tell you?”
“I can’t promise that, Marla. All I can
tell you is that it will be worse for both
of you if something happened to this girl,
you weren’t involved, and you still keep
quiet.”
“I’m gonna trust you here,” she said
reluctantly. “She had the wallet in a little
backpack, one of those girly ones. She was
just dragging it around. After she handed
me the headband, Nicky joked and said could
he have something? She just kind of looked
at him with a blank stare. So he kind of pried
the backpack out of her hand. She didn’t
fight him or nothing. After a couple of seconds,
she just sort of wandered off. The wallet
was in the backpack. Nicky kept it and tossed
the pack in the trash.”
“Where did she go?” Keri asked, forcing
herself to ignore her general sense of revulsion.
“Which direction?”
“Just off toward Carrillo Beach, maybe more
north. I wasn’t really watching. We wanted
to get back to camp and drink some more.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“She muttered something about hooking up
with her old buddy, Herbie or Hurley, something
like that. I’m not totally sure about that.
Like I said, she was really out of it.”
Keri led Marla back to the main group, where
she found that the Sheriff’s Department
had arrived and Nicky had been transferred
to one of their vehicles. Ray was on the phone
with someone.
“You said it would be better if I was straight
with you,” Marla pleaded upon seeing the
scene.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Keri said,
walking over to Ray and waiting for him to
finish his call. He hung up.
“That was Hillman,” he said. “He wants
us to bring this guy in and formally interrogate
him, on video. He doesn’t want to risk undermining
a conviction with, as he put it, ‘some half-assed
question and answer session in a campground.’”
“We can do that,” Keri said. “But I’m
not confident it’s going to get us anywhere.
Talking to the girlfriend, I’m not convinced
they did anything more than take minimal advantage
of a girl who was already compromised somehow.”
“What do you mean?”
“According to Marla over there, Tara was
already half naked and half out of her head
when they ran into her coming back from the
beach.”
“And you believe her?” Ray asked incredulously.
“She admitted that Nicky strong-armed the
wallet from Tara, who didn’t even seem to
notice. I just don’t think she’d have
copped to any of it if they were behind something
worse.”
“Well, Hillman’s going to need more convincing,”
Ray replied skeptically. “I hope you brought
your A game today.”
*
Ultimately, Keri decided that Nicky wasn’t
worth her A game. Back at the station, Hillman
wanted to formally question Nicholas “Nicky”
Carpenter about the disappearance of Tara
Justin himself. Keri didn’t think he was
the guy. But on her first day back, getting
into a battle of wills with her lieutenant
on behalf of some scumbag who had at least
taken the missing girl’s wallet didn’t
feel like a priority. Marla would feel ill-served
but Keri didn’t really care. If the worst
he’d done was take her wallet, he’d be
okay.
Besides, she had other priorities. Tara’s
roommate had gotten back to her and was coming
in to talk. While Keri waited for her to arrive,
she walked over to Garrett Patterson’s desk
to see if he’d uncovered anything unusual
in Tara’s student records. He had.
“It looks like Tara Justin didn’t exist
until about two years ago,” he said.
“That’s kind of big news,” Keri said.
“Who was she before that?”
“Not sure just yet,” he answered. “I
was originally spending most of my time going
through her grades, current bills, that sort
of thing. I only just started looking through
her admission documents a couple of minutes
ago when I noticed that the financials were
a little fuzzy.”
“Maybe she fudged something to get financial
aid or could it be she’s not here legally?”
Keri suggested.
“Definitely not the first,” he said. “She’s
paying full tuition. Not sure yet on the second.
Give me a few minutes and I may have something
for you.”
An officer tapped Keri on the shoulder.
“There’s an Alice Oberon here to see you,”
he said, pointing to a petite, black-haired
girl standing meekly in the corner of the
bullpen.
“Thanks,” Keri said, waving the girl over
before muttering quietly to Patterson, “Let
me know what you find, Grunt Work. But not
in front of her.”
He nodded and clicked on a different window
as Alice approached.
“Hi, Alice,” Keri said. “I’m Detective
Keri Locke. Thanks for coming in. Why don’t
we find somewhere a little quieter to talk.”
Alice nodded and Keri led her back to an interrogation
room. She left the door open to subtly let
the girl know she was free to move about as
she wished.
“You hungry?” Keri asked, looking at the
clock. It was almost 12:30.
Evelyn will be finishing up lunchtime right
about now. Where did that come from? Get that
out of your head! Stay focused on the case.
“No thanks. I’m not hungry,” Alice said,
oblivious to Keri’s internal back-and-forth.
“Okay,” Keri said, settling into a chair
at the table and motioning for Alice to do
the same. “So you know that Tara has been
missing since last night, right? What can
you tell us?”
“I actually didn’t know until I got a
message from Jan Henley in her sorority this
morning. I knew she was doing The Expedition
last night and I just figured she crashed
at the house when she got back this morning.
It never occurred to me that anything was
wrong until I got the call.”
“First thing before we dive in—did Tara
ever mention anyone named Herbie or Hurley
to you, a buddy of hers?”
“No,” Alice said. “I never heard her
say either of those names.”
“Do you know anyone with those names?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Okay. What can you tell me about her experience
in her sorority? Has it been positive? Did
she have any concerns?”
“Not more than anyone else,” Alice said.
“I mean, there was a lot of, I wouldn’t
quite call it hazing, but emotional and physical
manipulation. That’s why I quit.”
“You were a pledge too?” Keri asked, surprised
that no one had mentioned this until now.
“Yeah, we joined together. But I just got
sick of all the stuff where they broke us
down.”
“Like what?” Keri asked.
“I’m not supposed to say.”
“Unless it was illegal, that’s not my
concern,” Keri assured her. “I’m not
trying to get you or the sorority in trouble,
Alice. I’m just trying to get a picture
of the world Tara inhabited when she went
missing, to get into her headspace.”
Alice was quiet for a second. But when she
finally spoke it was as if she’d been waiting
to say her piece for a long time.
“There was just a lot of body image stuff.
All the clichés you’ve ever imagined. Stripping
down and having forty girls circle your ‘problem
areas’ with different colored markers. But
they went the extra mile for us. They took
photos and kept a poster board for each of
us so we could constantly reference it and
‘improve’ ourselves.”
“That sounds pretty awful,” Keri conceded.
“Yeah, and we had a ‘service’ requirement
that seemed to consist of everything from
doing upperclassmen’s homework to the occasional
waxing session. It just got old and I couldn’t
see the benefits outweighing the hassles.
So I quit.”
“Did Tara feel the same way?” Keri asked.
“It didn’t bother her as much. She said
she’d been through similar stuff in high
school. In fact, she was weirdly psyched for
The Expedition because she knew it would be
in Malibu somewhere. She said she used to
love to go hiking with her family there when
she was younger.”
“Wait,” Keri pushed. “So she was cool
with all of the stuff you described?”
“No. She didn’t love some of the activities
with the partner fraternity. She thought some
of the guys were a little aggressive, like
they acted entitled and grabby because of
the official partner connection, you know?
But as far as the hazing routine, she mostly
let that stuff slide off her back. First off,
her body is pretty much perfect so there wasn’t
a lot to circle. But in general, she just
had a casual attitude to the whole thing.
Like I mentioned, she told me she went to
some fancy high school where the popular clique
had the same routine. So nothing here shocked
her. Plus, she said if this was how these
girls felt important, so be it. She once told
me that she almost felt sorry for them because
it all seemed so desperate.”
“So if she had such pity for these girls,
why did she even want to join the sorority?
Why did she want them as friends at all?”
Alice looked at her like she’d just asked
the dumbest question in the world.
“Because she earned them,” she said.
“I don’t understand what that means, Alice.”
“I mean, because for the first time in her
life, she could trust that these girls wanted
to be friends with her just because of her
and not the rest of it.”
“What ‘rest of it’?”
“Are you serious, Detective? Don’t you
know who Tara is?”
Keri shook her head.
“Enlighten me.”
“Tara’s real name is Tara Jonas. Her dad
is Roan Jonas.”
“The actor?” Keri asked.
“Yes, Detective, the biggest movie star
in the world.”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
It seemed like the activity level in the station
intensified tenfold the minute Alice revealed
Tara’s true identity. Keri asked her to
stay put and was just walking out to the bullpen
when Patterson accosted her to tell her what
she’d just learned herself.
She pulled Hillman out of his interrogation
of Nicky and filled him in. Within minutes,
he’d organized a Unit meeting in the conference
room. Keri sent Alice home with thanks and
specific instructions not to share anything
about Tara’s actual name with anyone.
“I guess we should cut Nicky loose,” Ray
said wryly as everyone quickly assembled around
the conference table.
“He’s still going down for taking the
wallet,” Hillman insisted. “And frankly,
I don’t want any loose lips out on the streets.
I’m actually shocked that this hasn’t
gotten out to the press yet.”
“Whoever set up her new name did a solid
job,” Patterson said. “It took some real
digging to figure it out. And unless someone
was really interested, there wouldn’t be
reason to dig. I think it will stay quiet
a while longer unless someone talks. I don’t
know how her roommate managed to figure it
out.”
“She didn’t, Garrett,” Keri said. “Tara
told her. Alice said that after living in
the same room together for months, they got
close and Tara confided in her. Alice thinks
she’s the only one at school who knows the
truth.”
“Why use a fake name in the first place?”
Suarez asked.
“I asked Alice that as I was walking her
out,” Keri said. “She said that Tara was
just sick of being viewed as Roan Jonas’s
daughter. She considered college a chance
at a fresh start, an opportunity to create
her own identity, independent of his. Apparently,
she’d been planning the whole thing out
since her junior year of high school—getting
the paperwork in order, carefully curating
her social media presence, that kind of thing.”
“I wonder how her dad felt about his daughter
disassociating herself from his name,” Castillo
said. “Wasn’t he hurt?”
“Alice says they were estranged. Tara wouldn’t
tell her much about it other than that they
used to be close and weren’t anymore. He
supposedly signed off on the name change and
paid for college but that was the extent of
their interaction in recent years.”
Hillman stood up and addressed them all.
“Despite whatever measures this girl took
to protect her identity, we have to consider
the possibility that it didn’t work, that
someone found out who she was and this might
be a ransom situation.”
“What about Nicky and Marla finding her
wandering around in her underwear?” Ray
asked.
“Don’t know,” Hillman said. “Could
be she was kidnapped, drugged, and escaped.
Could be she got high, told the wrong person
about her past, and got abducted. Could be
she never ambled through that campground half
naked at all. Edgerton’s checking the place’s
security cameras on that as we speak, isn’t
that right, Edgerton?”
“Well, not right as we speak, Lieutenant,”
Edgerton said.
“Don’t get sassy, Kevin,” Hillman said.
“Whatever the case, we need to proceed based
on worst-case scenarios. So Edgerton, you
get back to checking that footage. Patterson,
you check her social media accounts. I want
to know if anyone hacked them to find out
who she really was. Brody and Castillo, you
go back to LMU and check out the girl’s
dorm room. See if you can turn up anything
suspicious. Sands and Locke, I’m having
someone call to see if Roan Jonas is in town.
If he is, I want you to go talk to him. Maybe
he’s already gotten a ransom demand. If
not, we need to let him know his daughter
is missing.”
“Yes sir,” Keri said. “Maybe we should
also have boat and helicopter teams search
the area. If she really was drugged, it’s
possible she stumbled into the ocean or the
woods. We should at least check out the possibility.”
“Good idea,” Hillman said. “Can you
honcho that, Suarez?”
“On it, Lieutenant,” Manny said, heading
off to his desk.
“All right, everyone,” Hillman said. “Let’s
keep it close to the vest on this one. Once
the media gets wind of this case, investigating
is going to get a hell of a lot harder.”
“I’m going to grab something to eat from
the kitchen real quick,” Ray said to Keri
as the rest of the team scattered in different
directions. “Want to head out after that?”
Before she could reply, Hillman interrupted.
“She’ll meet you, Sands. I need to talk
a minute with Locke,” he said, then turned
his attention to her. “Let’s go in my
office.”
Keri followed him across the bullpen, looking
back at Ray, who simply shrugged in confusion.
She stepped inside Hillman’s office and
he closed the door behind her, gesturing for
her to sit in the metal chair across from
his desk as he sat himself.
“Bad news,” he said without easing into
it. “Internal Affairs is back in your business.”
“What? I’ve been on the job again for
five hours!”
“I know, Locke. But I got an email a few
hours ago saying that your case, which was
technically open but pretty much gathering
dust, has been reactivated.”
“What does that mean exactly?” Keri asked.
“In your day-to-day life? Not much. You’ve
already met with them. Nothing has changed.
There’s no reason to re-interview you. I
don’t really know what else there is for
them to do at this point other than issue
a formal recommendation.”
“I thought Chief Beecher shut this thing
down,” Keri said.
“I did too. The man you killed abducted
your daughter. The guy pushing for you to
be ousted turned out to run a sexual slavery
ring. It’s not like your enemies were pillars
of the community. I thought it was pretty
much open and shut. But apparently someone
else with real juice wants to pry this thing
back open. If I had to guess, someone wants
you off the force permanently.”
“Any guesses as to whom?” Keri asked,
watching him closely. Part of her wanted to
take Hillman into her confidence. Despite
being such a hard-ass, he’d always had her
back. It was hard to imagine that he was the
mole who’d been working against her interests
all these years.
“Locke, if I was able to suss out that kind
of thing, you would be calling me Chief right
now instead of Lieutenant. But what I do know
is that you should tread lightly for the next
little while. Handle your cases. Do your job.
Don’t rock the boat.”
“When do I ever rock the boat?” Keri asked
with a smirk, deciding to keep the mole particulars
to herself for now.
“You’re a human hurricane, Detective.
And I’m about to send you off to talk to
a movie star worth a couple billion dollars.
Don’t make me regret it.”
“Of course not, Lieutenant,” she said
pleasantly as she got up and headed for the
door, knowing that her ability to keep her
word depended mostly on how that fancy movie
star answered her questions.
Ray was already waiting for her in the idling
car when she got outside. She hopped in the
passenger’s seat and he tore off before
she’d even shut the door.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“IA reopened my case,” Keri said. “I
don’t want think about it right now. Where
are we headed?”
“Brentwood,” Ray answered, letting the
IA thing go without another word. “Turns
out Jonas is between movies right now. He’s
at his house prepping for some kind of fund-raiser
he’s hosting this weekend. His people are
expecting us but they think we’re investigating
a possible threat against him. We can tell
him the truth when we get there.”
“Probably smart,” Keri said. “What’s
the fund-raiser for?”
“I think it’s for the governor, some kind
of reelection thing. Remember Jonas has gotten
pretty political in the last few years.”
“Oh yeah,” Keri said. “He’s not making
as many movies anymore, right? I don’t really
keep up the way I should.”
“For a detective working in Los Angeles,
you are pretty dense when it comes to Hollywood.
Shall I school you?”
“Oh, please, Professor,” Keri said, batting
her eyes sarcastically.
“My pleasure. You might remember that Roan
Jonas started his career as an action star
with the Thermal Fury series.”
“How many of those were there again?”
Keri asked.
“There have been six but he only did the
first three. He got out before they started
sucking. Then he segued into action comedy
with that lawyer flick, Buck the Barrister.
After that, he did the romantic comedy thing
with My Stars. That’s when people started
to take him seriously.”
“People take him seriously?” Keri asked
mockingly.
“They do when your movie makes three hundred
million dollars. That allowed him to do that
big war movie, Last Man in Baghdad.”
“That got him the Oscar?”
“The first one,” Ray corrected. “The
second one was for the Calvin Coolidge biopic.”
“What was that called again?”
“Coolidge.”
“Very clever,” Keri said. “And after
that?”
“That’s the last thing he did,” Ray
said. “It came out two years ago. He’s
supposed to start directing his first movie
later this year but that’s all hush-hush.”
“Raymond Sands, I’ve never been exposed
to this side of you. Do you secretly watch
Access Hollywood when I’m not around?”
“I’m just not totally immune to pop culture.
I’m hoping now that you have your life back,
you might make room for a bit of that silliness
from time to time yourself.”
“We’ll see,” Keri said. “For now,
though, let’s stay focused on the less starry
elements of this guy’s life. Any reason
someone might want to abduct his daughter?
Anyone he might have pissed off? Any skeletons
in his closet?”
“Not that I know of,” Ray admitted. “But
there’s someone else you know who might
have a better bead on that kind of impropriety.”
“I think you may be right,” Keri agreed,
dialing Mags’s number as they shot up the
405 freeway toward Brentwood.
“How’s it going, darling?” Mags purred.
“Hey, Mags,” Keri said, putting her on
speaker. “I’m here with Ray and I need
some information. What do you know about Roan
Jonas? Any dirt that might make him vulnerable?
Anybody he’s pissed off that might want
retribution?”
“And how are you?” Mags replied as if
she hadn’t heard a word of it. “I hope
Evelyn’s first day back at school is going
well. Sounds like you’re keeping yourself
busy at work. I’m fine, thank so much for
asking.”
“I’m sorry, Mags,” Keri said, forcing
down the frustration she felt. “You’re
right. I shouldn’t just jump in like that.
Ev’s good. I’m good. I hope you’re well
too.”
“Oh my, I think I can actually hear you
chewing at your lip, trying to control yourself
and not yell at me. Points for effort, Keri.
I will now consent to answer your question.”
“Thank you,” Keri said, amazed at both
her friend’s understanding and her patience.
“Roan Jonas is looking to run for office
at some point. The fund-raiser he’s hosting
on Saturday for Governor Macklin isn’t really
about his reelection, it’s about Jonas’s
future. If Macklin gets reelected, he’ll
almost certainly run for president two years
after that. And Jonas has his eyes on swooping
into the Governor’s Mansion if that should
happen. It’s why he’s switched to directing.
That title has more of an adult sheen than
‘actor.’ It’s why he’s on the board
of several nonprofits. It’s why he will
be announcing the creation of his political
action committee next month.”
“So is it possible someone who might not
want him to run would target him in some way?”
Keri asked.
“I suppose anything is possible,” Mags
conceded. “But truthfully, his political
ambitions aren’t that well known in most
circles. And his politics are nothing that
would surprise folks. He’s a conventional,
run-of-the-mill, moderately left of center
Democrat; kind of bland on that front, if
you ask me.”
“Is there any front on which he’s not
so bland?” Keri asked, leaving the question
hanging in the air.
“Ah well, now we’re into the realm of
rumor and innuendo, which I cannot definitively
confirm.”
“Come on, Mags. I’m working with a ticking
clock here.”
“Very well,” Mags sighed, pretending as
if she was about to share what she knew reluctantly.
“He’s a dog, Keri. Or at least he was.
He had a reputation as a notorious womanizer.
He’s married with a couple of kids, I think.
But it was well known that he had multiple
affairs on sets and elsewhere.”
“You said was?” Keri noted.
“My understanding is that he cleaned up
his act a couple of years ago, likely in anticipation
of his forthcoming political aspirations.
Whatever the reason, I haven’t heard anything
on that front in some time.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, he’s positively dreamy in My Stars.
You should really check it out if you haven’t
already.”
“Thank you, Margaret.”
“You’re welcome, Keri. And you should
know that, generally speaking, when you call
up a reporter and ask these kinds of questions,
it’s wise to go off the record first. Next
time I won’t give you a pass.”
“Noted.”
“Goodbye, darling. Goodbye, Raymond.”
“Later, Red,” Ray said.
Keri hung up and looked at Ray.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I think our basket of suspects just got
a lot bigger,” she said.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
As they drove past the security gate and up
the Jonas property to the house, Keri couldn’t
help but notice how cleverly the size of the
place was hidden. Because of all the foliage,
nothing was visible from the street. Even
overhead helicopter shots would be misleading,
as much of the house was covered under a canopy
of tall trees.
But the house was gigantic. As Ray and Keri
got out of the car, an assistant was already
walking toward them, wearing a headset and
holding a clipboard. A short, sinewy twenty-something
guy wearing wire-rimmed glasses, he introduced
himself as Jeremy.
“Roan is in his office working on location
prep,” he said. “I can take you back there
now.”
“I thought he’d be preparing for the governor’s
fund-raiser,” Keri mused as they were led
through the front door into a long hallway.
“Oh, that’s all set to go,” Jeremy said
casually, “at least on his end. All that’s
left now is buttoning up catering, valet,
security, that kind of thing. He leaves that
to the professionals.”
Jeremy moved at a shockingly brisk pace and
it was hard for Keri to keep up. She barely
had time to take in any of the noteworthy
features of the house, although she was pretty
sure some of the art on the walls was museum-worthy.
“So he’s prepping for the movie he’s
directing?” Ray asked, unable to help himself.
“Yes, it starts shooting next month in Estonia,”
Jeremy answered as if it wasn’t any kind
of secret at all. “He’s just trying to
nail down a few tricky location approvals.”
They came to a small sitting room outside
what was clearly Jonas’s office.
“Just give me a moment to let him know you’re
here,” Jeremy said, “Can I get you anything,
by the way? Coffee, tea, water?”
“We’re good,” Ray and Keri said in unison.
Thirty seconds later they were ushered into
Roan Jonas’s office, a gorgeous, thickly
carpeted room comprised mostly of dark wood
and windows. Jonas stepped forward to greet
them and Keri realized why Tara’s large,
inviting eyes had seemed so familiar in the
photo she’d seen. They were exactly the
same as her famous father’s.
“Nice to meet you,” he said warmly, shaking
their hands. “I’m Roan. Please sit down.”
“Thank you,” Ray said as they both sat
in the plush seats across from his massive
mahogany desk. Keri settled in as Jonas returned
to his seat. Despite all her mockery earlier,
she had to admit the man was stunning, even
in jeans and a casual buttoned-down shirt.
He looked to be in his mid-forties, about
six foot two and maybe 190 pounds. His black
hair was dotted with bits of gray that he
seemed self-deprecatingly uninterested in
hiding. He had the start of wrinkles that
crinkled charmingly when he smiled broadly,
which seemed to be often. But more than his
physical handsomeness, he exuded a vibe of
effortless self-assurance that was confident
without slipping into arrogance.
“Maybe you can fill me in on what this is
all about,” Jonas said as he sat down. “The
police liaison was a little cryptic on the
phone. She just said it was related to a credible
threat made against me.”
Ray and Keri looked at each other, debating
who should go first. Keri started to open
her mouth when her partner dived in. She actually
preferred that, partly so she could observe
Jonas more closely. But partly, she hated
to admit, because she didn’t want to be
the one to give him the bad news.
“We’d like to keep this conversation confidential,
Mr. Jonas,” he said, glancing in Jeremy’s
direction.
“Of course. Give us a few minutes, would
you, Jeremy?”
If Jeremy felt put out, he didn’t show it.
He stepped outside, closing the door without
a word.
“I’m afraid the threat we’re dealing
with isn’t about you,” Ray said. “Your
daughter Tara is missing, Mr. Jonas.”
“What?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard
the words correctly.
“Your daughter was participating in a sorority
initiation event last night,” Ray said slowly
and clearly. “She was dropped off on a mountain
road in Malibu around ten p.m. and hasn’t
been seen in over fifteen hours.”
“Have you tried calling her cell phone?”
Jonas asked, his words sounding calm but his
eyes indicating he was having trouble processing
what had been said.
“We found her phone just off the road,”
Keri said. “We have teams looking for her
right now throughout the area. And we know
this is a lot to take in, Mr. Jonas. We’re
sorry to throw this at you so suddenly. But
we didn’t realize until very recently that
Tara was even your daughter. So we hadn’t
considered the possibility of an abduction
somehow related…to you.”
“Me?”
“We have to consider that someone might
be using Tara to get to you. Has anyone reached
out to you recently, asking for money or making
any other kind of demands?”
“No. Nothing. Nobody has….” He looked
up at Keri. “Are you sure it was Tara? Maybe
there was a mistake and it was a different
girl?”
“We’re sure, Mr. Jonas,” she said. “I’m
sorry. I know this is overwhelming. But we
need a few things from you. I want you to
get out a pen and piece of paper and write
these down. I’ve found that writing things
down helps.”
“Okay,” Jonas said absentmindedly as he
grabbed a pen and a notepad. He looked up
at her again, waiting for instructions.
“Once we’re done,” she said, “I want
you to write down a list of everyone in your
personal and professional life who might have
a vendetta against you for any reason. You
may not have received a ransom call yet. But
it’s still possible that you will. We need
to be prepared for that. We’re going to
have a team bug your phones in case. Okay?”
“Yes,” he said. She saw him write down
the words “enemies list” and “bug phones.”
At least he was functioning on that level.
She continued.
“All right. I realize this may be painful.
But I need you to explain to me why Tara changed
her name and kept her family identity hidden
from people at college.”
Jonas sighed deeply. He seemed to find some
semblance of his old self for a moment.
“She said it was because she wanted to be
her own person, apart from my fame, and this
was the only way she could do it. But that
wasn’t the real reason.”
“What was the real reason?” Keri asked
softly.
Jonas lowered his head, unable to make eye
contact.
“It was me,” he said, his voice cracking
slightly. “She said she was ashamed of me.
When she was sixteen, she saw me with…someone
other than her mom. She walked in on us. She
had heard stories before then. But she could
always ignore them, as my wife had for years.
But after that day, she couldn’t ignore
them. She wouldn’t speak to me for three
months and when she did, it was to hand me
paperwork changing her name. She said she
couldn’t bear to share the same last name
as me, that it stained her.”
“So you signed it?” Keri asked.
“I did. She said she needed to know we didn’t
share that connection anymore, even though
she didn’t start officially using the name
‘Justin’ until she left for college.”
“Things didn’t improve then?” Ray asked.
“Not really. After that, she spoke to me
occasionally, perfunctorily. My wife demanded
to know what happened but neither of us would
say. I think she knew anyway. She just wouldn’t
admit it. Tara’s younger brother was mostly
oblivious, thank god. But it tore the rest
of us up. Eventually she said she was going
to LMU. We said we’d pay and agreed to do
it through some Delaware-based LLC she set
up so my name wouldn’t be involved. It was
very impressive actually, how organized she
was.”
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
Ray asked.
“She was here in February for her little
brother’s birthday. She was thinking of
coming back this weekend for Easter but couldn’t
make it because of some sorority event. I
guess this was that.”
They peppered him with a few more questions,
none of which revealed anything new. Eventually
he asked a question of his own.
“Should I hire an investigator?”
“I wouldn’t do that at this point, Mr.
Jonas,” Ray said. “Right now, you’ve
got the resources of the LAPD at your disposal.
A private investigator would likely only get
in the way. And truthfully, the quieter we
can keep this for the time being, the better
for Tara. Once word gets out that a movie
star’s daughter is missing, there will be
a media frenzy. That whole area will be crawling
with rubberneckers. I wouldn’t tell anyone
you don’t absolutely have to.”
“Is that how you handled it, Detective Locke?”
Jonas asked Keri, indicating for the first
time that he knew who she was. The look in
his eyes suggested he was hoping she could
provide him some kind of reassurance. Unfortunately,
years of personal and professional experience
had taught her that offering hope, justified
or not, was usually a mistake.
“I wasn’t famous, Mr. Jonas,” she said
evenly. “So our situations aren’t really
comparable. In any case, I think my partner’s
advice is the best way to go at this point.”
“You’ll let me know if that changes?”
he said.
“Of course,” Keri promised him, standing
up. “We’re going to have a couple of local
units come up and stay with you if that’s
all right—one in the house and one outside.”
“Okay. Can I ask one more question?”
“Absolutely,” Ray said.
 “You said she was dropped off in Malibu.
Where exactly?”
“On Mulholland Drive,” Ray said, “just
up from the Carrillo Beach Campground.”
“Oh,” Jonas replied, clearly disappointed.
“Tara’s roommate said your family used
to hike in Malibu a lot,” Keri noted. “Is
that close to where you usually went?”
“No, not really. I mean, we’ve been there.
But we spent more time in the Santa Monica
Mountains National Recreational Area. That’s
miles away from the campground. We once hiked
the entire Backbone Trail—sixty-seven miles—in
a long weekend…” He trailed off, remembering.
“That must have been fun,” Ray said gently,
trying to bring him back to the present.
 “It was. I remember her favorite spot
was Sandstone Peak—highest spot in the Santa
Monica Mountains, she used to say. She loved
it because she could sit up there on a clear
day and see from the Channel Islands in the
Pacific all the way to the snow-covered San
Bernardino Mountains. I loved it too. I always
assumed she’d eventually forgive me and
we’d get to do it again someday.”
Keri wanted to tell him that maybe he would.
But again, experience suggested that wasn’t
a good idea. As often as not, all a parent
was left with were memories and regrets. They
left Roan Jonas alone in his study and silently
followed Jeremy, who led them back to their
car.
When they got in, Ray checked a message he’d
missed when they were in Jonas’s office.
“That was Hillman. He said the Coast Guard
boats haven’t turned up anything in the
water for miles near the campground. Copters
have been searching the wilderness for miles
around and haven’t come across anything.
They’ll keep looking for another hour or
so but then they have stop before it gets
dark. And the campground cameras were no help.
None of them were pointed in the area where
Marla and Nicky say they ran into Tara. Hillman
thinks we’ll have more success putting resources
into a possible ransom call.”
“What do you think?” Keri asked.
“I think if someone was holding her ransom,
Jonas would have gotten a call already.”
“He didn’t seem like a guy who had gotten
that call,” Keri said.
“True,” Ray agreed. “But he is an Oscar-winning
actor. If he believed his daughter’s life
depended on deceiving the cops, maybe he decided
to deliver the performance of a lifetime.”
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Keri and Ray ambled along the sidewalk, licking
their ice cream cones, with Evelyn ten paces
ahead of them. Now over three months free
of captivity, her daughter still had the capacity
for wonder at the smallest things.
She would stop at a business and window shop
with such intensity that it was borderline
scary. She’d stare at a law office or a
barber shop with the same focus as she would
a toy store.
Keri found it adorable while trying not to
think too much about why Evelyn found everything
so fascinating. Despite that, watching her
made Keri forget the ugliness and uncertainty
of the day. Hillman had told her there was
nothing more for her to do tonight and she’d
decided to believe him. She hadn’t thought
about work more than fleetingly since she’d
picked Evelyn up.
Apparently her first day at school had gone
well. Nobody had made fun of her, at least
not to her face. People had been nice, but
not so nice that it made things awkward. Jess
had been really great, introducing her around
and referencing the two of them as the “survivor
twins.” Apparently she was a minor celebrity.
“I wanted to show you something,” Ray
said to Keri when he was sure Evelyn was out
of earshot, handing over several unopened
envelopes. They were all addressed to her
“care of Raymond Sands” at his address.”
“What are these?” she asked as she started
to rip them open. Within seconds, she realized
they were brochures for the Criminology departments
at UCLA, USC, and several other local universities.
“I remember you talking about the old days
when you used to teach and I thought it was
something you might want to reconsider again
at some point.”
“I was just reminiscing, Ray—not trying
to hint at anything. Are you trying to get
rid of me, partner?” she asked, nudging
him playfully in the ribs.
“Not in a million years,” he said. “I
just know that you’re concerned about the
custody issue and how being a cop fits into
that and, well, I just wanted you to know
I’m cool with whatever you need to do. This
is just my way of saying I’ve got your back.”
“That’s very sweet and forward-thinking
of you, Detective Sands. You know, you could
have my back on a more regular basis if we
reworked our living arrangement a bit.”
“That’s something else I was hoping to
discuss with you once you resolved the whole
custody thing.”
“It would seem we have a lot of issues to
discuss, Gigantor,” Keri said, standing
up on her tiptoes to kiss him, getting mint
chocolate chip all over his lips.
“It would seem so, Dory,” he agreed, kissing
her back. “So are you ready to tell her
yet? Or do you want to stall a little bit
longer?”
Keri glanced over at her daughter and sighed,
knowing that their pleasant evening reverie
was about to end.
*
Evelyn pretended to look through the window
at the computers in the accounting office,
pretended not to notice them kissing. Not
because she was embarrassed by it; she was
long past that. But because every time they
saw her watching, they stopped. And she liked
for them to kiss. She could see it made her
mom happy, which she deserved, especially
considering the last few months.
She still wasn’t positive what made her
do it, cut her wrists that night, three months
ago. Part of it was the argument with her
dad for sure. He had been awful—the way
he’d talked about taking her away from her
mom.
But it was something more than that, something
she was still trying to work out. The way
he’d tried to just take over her life like
that, when she finally thought she had some
say over it, reminded her of the cruel men
that had passed her around the previous six
years.
Obviously it wasn’t the same. But it felt
the same. And it had taken her to a dark place
that she’d only just barely been keeping
at bay. The empty, helpless, shameful feeling
that she’d known all those years crept back
inside of her and threatened to consume her.
And for a moment, she thought that if she
could make the world go away, at least then
that awful feeling would go away.
It was complicated and confusing and she still
didn’t totally understand it. But Evelyn
felt pretty good after today. With her mom
and Ray and Mags and Jessica and Susan and
Rita and her therapist, whose name was Joan
but who let her call her JoJo, she felt like
she had a team on her side, ready to fight
for her when the going got rough.
“Ev,” her mom said, calling her over.
“I’m glad you had such a good day today,
sweetie. I’m hoping tomorrow is good too,
even though it might be a bit more…challenging.”
“What do you mean?” Evelyn asked, feeling
a little pit of anxiety pop into her stomach
right near where the ulcer the doctor had
diagnosed used to be.
“The court says your father is entitled
to a visit with you. I didn’t tell you until
now because I’ve been fighting it, trying
to prevent it from happening. I’ve actually
gotten it postponed twice. But the court finally
said you’re required to see him tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. It’s going to be supervised
by someone appointed by the court. They’ll
drive you there and be in the house the whole
time. And Mags has agreed to pick you up since
she lives so close. It won’t be so bad.”
“Not as bad as last time, you mean?” Evelyn
said icily, letting the statement hang in
the air.
“Swee...” her mom started to say but Evelyn
turned her back on her and stomped off ahead,
throwing what was left of her ice cream cone
at the wall of a nearby building.
In the window, she saw her mom start to come
after her before Ray put a hand on her shoulder
and quietly said, “Give her a minute.”
Yeah. Give me a minute. Don’t I deserve
a minute to deal with you sending me back
into that house of walking vampires?
She stormed ahead for another minute before
she got tired and decided to sit on a bench.
Looking back, she saw her mom and Ray slowly
making their way over to her. A van that had
been leisurely moving down the road stopped
near her and the driver looked in her general
direction, squinting. Suddenly she heard footsteps
and looked up.
Her mom was sprinting toward her, moving faster
than she’d seen since…that day when she
was taken, being carried through the park,
her mom fading into the distance despite chasing
after her.
A second later, her mom was in front of the
van, a gun pointed at the driver.
“Hands up!” she yelled.
“What the…?” the man said, raising his
hands, his face a mix of shock and terror.
“Who are you?” her mom demanded. “What
are you doing trolling down this street?”
Ray caught up and leaned in close to her.
“Lower your weapon, Keri,” he said. “Look
at the sign on the van.”
Evelyn looked at the sign herself. It read
“Delivery Dude.”
“Answer my question,” her mom demanded
of the guy, her voice still hard, her gun
still pointed at him.
“I’m making a delivery,” the guy said.
“I’m supposed to drop off some insulin
but I can’t tell if the number on this address
is a three or an eight. I was just trying
to tell which place looked more like a residence,
lady.”
“So you stop right in front of some teenage
girl?”
“I didn’t even notice her,” he said.
“I was looking at the numbers, I swear.”
“Keri,” Ray muttered under his breath,
“can you please holster your weapon and
take a walk with your daughter, who looks
like she’s about to pee herself. I’m going
to try to defuse this situation. I’ll meet
you back at the apartment.”
Evelyn’s mom put her gun back in its holster
and motioned to Evelyn.
“Let’s go,” she said firmly and started
in the direction of home. Evelyn got up and
joined her without speaking.
Behind her, she could hear Ray talking to
the delivery guy in a friendly voice.
“We’ve had a rash of molestations in the
neighborhood and everyone’s on edge. You
just happened to be at the wrong place at…”
Neither Evelyn nor her mother spoke the rest
of the way home.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
The morning was uncomfortably quiet. Ray had
left early to get a head start on the case.
Keri planned to meet up with him at the station
after dropping Evelyn off at the Raineys’.
She reminded her that the custodial appointee
would be picking her up directly from the
school office but otherwise didn’t mention
anything about the visit to Stephen’s house.
Neither did Evelyn. They each said a perfunctory
“I love you” before her daughter slammed
the door.
I guess having a pissed-off, surly teenage
daughter is a kind of progress.
Pushing the thought out of her head, Keri
tried to focus on the day ahead. She knew
no advances had been made in the Tara Justin
aka Jonas case or she’d have been contacted.
Roan Jonas now had taps on all his phones
and every form of online communication. If
someone reached out, they’d know. That is,
assuming someone hadn’t already done so.
Realizing there was little she could do on
that front at the moment, Keri mentally reviewed
her conversations with Tara’s friends from
the day before for leads she might have left
unresolved. She retraced the Alice conversation
in her head but nothing jumped out at her.
Then she did the same with Jan. As she went
over what the girl had said, she vaguely recalled
how one comment she’d made on the mountain
road had struck her as odd. But she’d somehow
gotten distracted at the time and lost the
thread before she could nail down what it
was.
But now, with a day’s distance, she remembered
what she’d found peculiar. She dialed Jan’s
cell, got voicemail, and left a message instructing
her to call back right away. She considered
going straight to the campus but decided it
was better to hold off. Besides, she needed
to check in at the station and see the status
of the investigation.
She arrived just as Hillman called the unit’s
all-hands meeting to order. Unfortunately,
he didn’t have much new to share. The taps
on Jonas’s phones and devices were in place
but had revealed nothing so far. Coast Guard
and Search and Rescue were resuming their
hunts again this morning. Amazingly, nothing
had leaked to the press yet about the daughter
of the biggest movie star in the world going
missing. That was the gist of it.
Keri noticed Jamie Castillo giving her occasional
sidelong glances throughout the brief meeting
and wondered what new affront she’d committed
to offend the officer. She got that Jamie
was pissed for being left out of the loop
when Keri and Ray decided to fake her death,
but it had been three months now.
How long does this girl hold a grudge?
When the meeting broke up, Castillo walked
over to her.
“Can I talk to you privately for a minute?”
she asked.
“If this is about me not confiding in you
before the Vista raid, can we deal with that
some other time? I have a lead I want to follow
up on.”
“It’s not about that,” Jamie whispered,
looking around furtively as she spoke. “It’s
important.”
“Okay,” Keri said. She followed Jamie
out of the room. Ray caught her eye as she
went and raised his eyebrows questioningly.
She just shrugged in return.
Castillo led her out the back door to the
small covered patio that served as the smoking
area for the division. It happened to be situated
next to the station’s large, noisy air conditioning
unit. Jamie stood as close to the A/C as possible
and waited. When Keri was standing less than
two feet away, she finally leaned in and began
to speak.
“You know IA reopened your case, right?”
she asked so quietly that Keri had to put
her ear almost to Jamie’s lips to hear her.
She nodded yes in response.
“Well, I was talking to one of my informants
last night, a guy who specializes in getting
drugs to powerful people who don’t want
to risk exposure. He operated on the edge
of the world Jackson Cave dominated, brushed
up against some of those people, never really
interacted much, never really wanted to. You
know what I mean?”
Keri felt a familiar tightness in her chest,
the one that always emerged whenever she got
a sense that a tidbit related to Evelyn’s
case was forthcoming.
“I know what you mean,” she replied as
calmly as she could.
“Well, this guy says he’s been hearing
that a big-time local politician was in deep
with Cave. He’d smooth the waters for him
in exchange for money, girls, drugs—you
name it. Apparently this politician guy was
worried he’d be exposed when Cave was. Yet
somehow he slipped through. But now that you’re
back on active duty, he’s worried you’re
going to start digging to see who Cave was
working with. So he’s using all his clout
to get you dismissed for good. That’s why
the IA case was suddenly reopened yesterday
when you started working again.”
“Does your guy have any guesses as to who
this politician is?” Keri asked.
“No. I pushed hard and he genuinely didn’t
seem to know. He said he cut himself off from
everyone in that world after the Vista bust
so everything he hears now is third or fourth
hand. But it makes sense, right?”
Keri looked hard at Jamie. The younger officer
was staring back at her with nothing but concern
in her eyes. Keri had never really suspected
her of being the mole. And if she was, bringing
up the fact that someone powerful was still
after Keri was an odd move. It risked exposing
herself.
Beyond that, Jamie had put her own life on
the line more than once to save Keri’s.
And she’d once told her she’d joined LAPD
after being inspired by seeing Keri find a
missing little boy in her neighborhood when
no other cop took his disappearance seriously.
It’s time to make a choice. Trust this person
or not. Decide, Keri.
“Jamie, I need to tell you something—something
I probably should have told you a long time
ago.”
“What?”
“There’s a mole in our unit.”
Castillo stepped back as if she’d been zapped
with electricity. After taking a moment to
regroup, she leaned in again, her eyes wider
than Keri had ever seen them.
She proceeded to tell Castillo everything,
from the prison visit to the Ghost where he
warned about a mole, to the decision after
the cliff crash to fake her death so the mole
wouldn’t have anything to pass along to
their contact. When she was done, Jamie took
a few seconds to process it all, then asked
a question.
“What do we do now?”
“I have an idea but you’re not going to
like it,” Keri said.
“What’s new? Just spill it.”
“Can you look through the personnel records
of everyone on the team? See if anyone has
a personal connection to any local politicians?
It would probably be from early in their career,
before they ever joined West LA Division,
much less the Missing Persons Unit.”
“What about financials?” Castillo asked.
“No. They’re harder to access and would
draw more suspicion. Your search might get
flagged somehow. A personnel search is innocuous.
It could be for any reason. If something pops,
let me or Ray know. But no one else, okay?”
“Okay. And Keri?”
“Yeah?” Keri said apprehensively.
“I get why you did this, why you kept me
in the dark. But you could have trusted me.”
“I should have. But I was in a pretty intense
place. I hope you can understand. And maybe
forgive me one day.”
“Already done,” Jamie replied, smiling,
“although you’ve got the next round when
this is all over.”
“That seems fair.”
They returned inside. Jamie went to her desk.
Keri was headed for hers when she noticed
she had a message on her cell. She must have
missed it because the air conditioning unit
was so loud. It was from Jan, returning her
call.
She grabbed Ray and they stepped into the
conference room and closed the door, where
she dialed Jan’s number. Just before hitting
“send” she looked up at him and spoke.
“I told Castillo everything. She’s on
board.”
For a second, Ray looked surprised. Then his
face broke into a wide grin and he nodded.
“About time,” he said and left it at that.
The phone rang twice before Jan picked up.
Keri asked her question before the girl could
even say hello.
“Jan, it’s Detective Locke. You said the
guys in your partner fraternity came up with
the idea to tell the girls that ‘everybody
likes going down’ as a way to let them know
to walk downhill when they got to the drop-off
spot, right?”
“I’m sorry, Detective,” Jan said, obviously
thrown off by the question. “I know that
wasn’t very sisterly. I feel bad about it,
all right?”
“That’s not my point,” Keri said. “If
the guys knew to tell them to walk downhill,
then they knew where the pledges were being
dropped off, correct?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“If this was some secret sorority ritual,
why did the guys know about it?”
“Come on, Detective,” Jan said defensively.
“It was a secret but it was an open secret.
We’re not the CIA. Sisters talk to their
boyfriends.”
“So how many guys in the frat know?” Keri
asked.
“I don’t know. You’d have to talk to
them.”
“Then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
It felt like an eternity to Keri. But it was
really only an hour later that she and Ray
stood in the kitchen of the fraternity’s
unofficial house, about to address the entire
membership. Dean Weymouth had been surprisingly
accommodating when Keri had called and said
what she needed.
In fact, his lack of combativeness made her
suspect he’d learned Tara Justin’s true
identity and was desperate for the girl to
be found before the case broke into a tabloid
story that consumed the entire university.
He promised that emergency texts would be
sent to every fraternity member instructing
them to be at the house for an urgent 10 a.m.
meeting.
They were just about to walk out into the
main meeting room to address the guys when
a trim, muscular man in his late twenties
wearing a sports coat and jeans stepped into
the kitchen. Before he even opened his mouth,
Keri knew she wouldn’t like him.
“Hello, Detectives,” he said, extending
his hand. “I’m Gerry Brockenbock, an assistant
professor in the Political Science Department.
I’m the boys’ Greek Advisor. It’s my
job to serve as a mentor and liaison for the
fraternity whenever they interact with the
larger community. A couple of the guys let
me know about this impromptu meeting and it
seemed like the kind of event that fit my
job description. What are we doing today?”
He had been doing fine up until that last
line. Keri could tell Ray felt the same way
because she saw his back stiffen at the same
moment she felt her own spine get hard. She
could sense he wanted to speak first and was
fine letting him. But when she glanced over
at him, he nodded at her, as if to say, “He’s
all yours.”
“Well, Gerry,” she replied, using the
tone she saved for abusive bosses, unprincipled
landlords, and other self-important jerks
with a little power and a lot of attitude,
“we’ll be asking the boys a few questions
about a missing girl. You’ll be sitting
in the corner, observing quietly, not interfering.”
“Detective Locke, is it?” Gerry replied,
full of an unexpected arrogance. “So great
to see you in person. I’m aware of your
exploits, of course. Oh dear, I mean your
exploits on the force, of course. I had not
yet joined the university when you were making
your name for your…exploits here. Those
I only know through oral tradition.”
He let the comment hang in the air, wondering
if Keri would respond. She didn’t, only
giving a tight smile, letting him continue,
and seeing how far he’d dig. Ray, standing
beside her, seemed to sense she had a plan
and stayed quiet too.
“No matter,” Brockenbock continued when
greeted with silence. “I will of course
offer any assistance I can. But as a proud
alumnus of this fraternity and the sworn Greek
Advisor to these young men, I will serve as
their advocate in this matter and not as just
some potted plant sitting in the corner.”
Keri remembered this kind of guy from her
academic life—the pompous young academic
who sometimes fancied himself a campus Adonis.
With all the fawning co-eds and the late-night
chats about Ayn Rand over scotch in the faculty
bar, it was easy for men like this to lose
sight of the outside world. But even in her
darkest days as a professor, she’d eaten
chumps like Brockenbock for lunch. And after
years as a cop on top of that, she was licking
her chops.
“Gerry,” she said, a sweet smile on her
face. “Thanks for letting us know where
you’re coming from. Now let me tell you
where I’m coming from. I’ve got a missing
teenage girl. She’s been gone for about
thirty-six hours now. That’s my priority.
I don’t give a rat’s ass about your sworn
advocacy. Every guy in that room is eighteen
or older. That means they are adults and subject
to interrogation. You don’t have a say in
it. Hell, their parents don’t have a say
in it.”
“This is a private university—”
“Shut up, Gerry.” Keri said curtly. “This
isn’t the Russian Embassy. You don’t have
diplomatic immunity. We’re in Los Angeles,
California, and I’m a detective with the
LAPD—end of story. So unless you are an
attorney—their attorney—you don’t have
much say in how this goes. And another thing,
Gerry; just between you and me, I don’t
love your tone. Your belligerence makes me
wonder if you’re the kind of fella who ignores
traffic laws and parking instructions. I’m
wondering if I need to assign a car to keep
a regular eye on you to make sure you’re
not a menace on the roads. So many potential
motor vehicle violations out there, you know,
Gerry?”
Gerry stared at her, clearly seething, but
said nothing. Still smiling, she moved on.
“So we’re going to go in that room, Gerry.
My partner and I are going to conduct our
investigation as we see fit. And you’re
going to keep your sworn advocate mouth shut
unless you want to have your sworn advocate
ass tossed in jail for interfering with an
investigation. And if you doubt that I’ll
do it, why don’t you just do a check of
my…exploits?”
Gerry stayed quiet. Next to her, Keri could
hear Ray trying hard to do the same. He turned
his head and coughed to cover the chuckles.
*
Unfortunately, the actual meeting with the
fraternity didn’t turn up much. Brockenbock
gave a brief statement asking them all to
be cooperative before Keri provided the broad
strokes on Tara’s situation and asked if
anyone knew anything. No one raised a hand.
After that, they broke the guys up into smaller
groups and questioned them, looking for anyone
acting out of the ordinary. But it was impossible
to gauge who was feeling guilty and who was
just nervous at being questioned by a cop.
Ultimately, they handed out some business
cards, wrote their phone numbers on a whiteboard,
and left.
“That was a mistake,” Keri said as they
returned to the car. “If we were going to
interrogate them, we should have done it formally
and individually down at the station.”
“You want to drag sixty college kids down
to West LA division?” Ray asked. “We don’t
have the manpower to question them all even
if we knew what we were looking for.”
“Maybe not,” Keri agreed, “but this
was useless. Even if someone knew something,
this wasn’t the environment where they would
be forthcoming. I feel like we wasted an opportunity
here. There’s a connection we’re missing.”
They were halfway back to the station when
she got a text.
“Check this out,” she said. “It’s
from one of the brothers—a guy named Logan
Mattis. He’s asking to meet us at the bowling
alley coffee shop at Lincoln and Manchester
in ten minutes.”
“Maybe we didn’t waste our time after
all,” Ray said hopefully.
Keri and Ray had each already downed a cup
of coffee and were on their second when Logan
Mattis arrived. Tall and tanned with a tangled
mess of sun-stained blond hair that suggested
he was a regular surfer, he strolled in trying
to look casual but was obviously nervous.
He sat down across from them in the booth.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything back
at the house,” he said sheepishly. “But
there’s supposed to be a code among brothers,
you know? I didn’t know how far the other
guys thought it extended so I didn’t want
to say anything in front of them.”
“We understand,” Keri said. “We’ll
take information any way we can get it, Logan.
What do you know?”
“I’m not sure that it’s anything so
I almost didn’t want to bring it up. But
I figured, if it’s nothing, you guys will
be able to figure that out pretty quick and
he won’t get into any major trouble.”
“You’ve got to give us more specifics
than this, Logan,” Ray said, having difficulty
hiding his exasperation.
“It’s just that no matter what, I’m
ratting out a guy drinking and driving. Would
you bust him for that?”
“Maybe we should,” Keri told him. “But
if this is from two nights ago and he wasn’t
arrested then, there’s not much we can do
about it now. If that’s the extent of what
this guy did wrong, then you shouldn’t worry
about telling us what you know.”
“Okay. On the night of the Expedition, one
of the guys was really drunk and he started
talking about how he was going to follow the
sorority’s pledges to the drop-off point
on Mulholland, then pick them up and drive
them further up the road so that it would
be more challenging, to mess with them a bit.
He said the whole thing was too easy, not
like the stuff we have to do.”
“Did he do what he said?” Keri asked.
“That’s the thing, I don’t know. He
was talking about it, especially how Tara
seemed too cocky, like she wasn’t even worried
about the Expedition at all. The next thing
I knew, he was gone. No one else really seemed
to notice. He might have just gone home. He
might have gone to his girlfriend’s. But
I guess he could have gone up there and done
what he was talking about.”
“It sounds like you’re leaning that way,
Logan,” Ray said. “Any particular reason?”
“It’s just that the next morning, I saw
his car. It was parked at a crazy angle across
two spots and it looked like it had been dinged
a few times. If he’d gone to his apartment
or his girlfriend’s, both of those are walking
distance. So that made me think he drove somewhere
and that he was probably really wasted on
the way back.”
“What’s this guy’s name, Logan?” Keri
asked quietly.
“Taylor Hunt. He’s a senior. He’s our
Rush Chairman.”
“Pretty powerful guy on campus, I’m guessing?”
she asked.
Logan nodded.
“You have no idea,” he said and she could
hear the anxiety in his voice. It had taken
a lot for him to come forward when he could
have just kept his mouth shut.
“Oh, I have a pretty good idea, actually,”
she said. “Thanks for telling us, Logan.
And we’ll do our best to keep you out of
this.”
“Thank you. I don’t want any trouble.
It’s just Tara seems like a really sweet
girl. I don’t want anything bad to happen
to her.”
“You’re doing the right thing, Logan,”
Keri assured him. “Just one more question.
Who is Taylor’s girlfriend? We’ll want
to talk to her in case he uses her as an alibi.”
“It’s this girl named Jan, Jan Henley.
She’s Tara’s sorority big sister. That’s
how Taylor noticed her in the first place.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Keri, charged up with adrenaline, wanted to
turn right back around to campus and confront
Taylor Hunt. But Ray convinced her they should
at least check in with Hillman before taking
that step. Reluctantly, she agreed.
“It’s a good thing you came back,” Hillman
said after they filled him in. “We got a
call from Roan Jonas a few minutes ago. He’s
anxious and wants an in-person update. I was
going to send Brody and Castillo but he’s
insisting on you guys. To be honest, I was
hesitant to send Brody anyway. Who knows what
inappropriate thing he’d say?”
“I feel for him, Lieutenant,” Keri said.
“But we can’t drop a possible lead to
go babysit a worried parent, even a movie
star. It’s not a constructive use of our
time.”
“Making sure this guy plays ball and doesn’t
go to the press is far from babysitting, Locke,”
Hillman said, an edge in his voice. “It
could be what keeps this case from turning
into a circus.”
“I can go,” Ray interjected, obviously
not wanting things to escalate. “Maybe he’ll
remember something relevant he didn’t think
of yesterday. Keri, why don’t you go talk
to Hunt on your own? I have a feeling it might
be more effective anyway.”
“How so?” she asked.
“He sounds like a rich, entitled little
jackass. If he sees some big, intimidating,
one-eyed black cop, he’ll probably just
clam up. But if it’s some petite, harmless-looking,
MILF lady officer talking to him, maybe he’ll
drop his guard a bit.”
“Worth a shot,” Hillman said, shrugging.
“Just please don’t go from harmless to
assault without justification, Locke. It’s
your second day back, after all.”
“I’ll be a delicate flower,” Keri said,
batting her eyes flamboyantly.
“That would be a first,” Hillman grunted.
*
It wasn’t hard to find Taylor Hunt. Keri
had Patterson track his cell signal, which
led to a sports bar just off campus on Lincoln
Boulevard called Tower Pizza. While she was
at it, she had him do a little more searching
to determine some of Hunt’s recent activity.
Keri found Hunt seated in a booth with three
other guys. He looked vaguely familiar from
a group interview back at the fraternity house,
although she didn’t remember him actually
saying anything at the time. Blandly handsome,
with light brown hair and an easy smile that
college girls likely found winning, his whole
bearing exuded an air of privilege.
She was surprised at how raucous the guys
were in the middle of a school day until she
remembered the university was closed for the
holiday. Thinking that might work to her advantage,
she undid one more button than usual on her
shirt, exposing an extra bit of cleavage.
Then she tucked the shirt into her pants so
the material pressed tight against her chest.
Finally, she undid her ponytail, fished a
rarely used tube of lipstick out of her purse,
and applied it before walking over.
“Hi, Taylor,” she said warmly, leaning
in close and bending over. “Can I talk to
you for a minute?”
He looked up at her, first noticing her chest
through fuzzy eyes before blinking a few times
when he got to her face. It took a couple
of seconds for him to register where he recognized
her from.
“I know you. You’re the detective lady
from this morning.”
“That’s right. How’s it going?”
“Good. You look different from before. Better.”
“I guess this light just suits me. You got
a minute? Can we talk in private? Or do you
find older women intimidating?”
One of his buddies elbowed him in the ribs
and started hooting mockingly. That was all
it took for him to hop up and follow her over
to a corner table, his beer still in hand.
The waiter came over and Keri ordered a beer
she knew she wouldn’t drink but figured
would set Taylor at ease.
“So Tara’s your girlfriend’s little
sorority sister?” she said, diving right
in.
“Yup,” Taylor said.
“So does that make you her big brother?”
Keri asked, her tone flirtatious.
“I don’t know about that. I mean, I guess
I kind of look out for her a little, but nothing
official.”
“Is that why you went out to Malibu after
Jan dropped her off, to make sure she was
doing okay on the Expedition?”
“What?” Taylor asked, looking unsettled
for the first time. “I didn’t…”
“It’s okay, Taylor. I already know you
were out there. We can track cell phone records
and the GPS in your car shows that you were
there. I just assumed that it was so you could
make sure the girls were all okay and that
no one was messing with them. Is that right?”
“Uh, sure. I mean, that’s what I was going
to do. But when I got out there, I couldn’t
find the girls. I guess they had already gotten
rides back. So it was kind of a wasted trip.”
“That is a real bummer, Taylor,” Keri
said, putting her hand on top of his sympathetically,
before letting it slide over his fingers and
back onto the table again. “You know what
though? It would really help if you could
show me where you were when you checked on
the girls. We’re creating a map of Tara’s
last known location and knowing where she
wasn’t can sometimes be as helpful as knowing
where she was. You think you could help me
out with that?”
“You mean, like now?” he asked uncertainly.
“Sure. No time like the present. Maybe we
can even get some seafood and beer on the
way back. Besides, it’s not like you have
school today, right? What do you say? Care
to help a lady out?”
*
About forty-five minutes later, as they passed
El Matador State Beach, Keri noticed that
Taylor’s buzz seemed to be wearing off slightly.
He wasn’t as chatty and his mood had turned
slightly sour.
She glanced at her watch. It was just after
3 p.m. That meant the court-designated custodial
appointee was driving Evelyn to Stephen’s
house at this very moment. Fighting the strong
urge to text her daughter that she loved her,
Keri instead focused her attention on the
increasingly uncomfortable college student
in the passenger seat.
“So would you say you and Tara were friends?”
she asked.
“Friendly, I guess. I wouldn’t say friends.
I mean, she was a freshman and I’m a senior.
It’s not like we hung out.”
“She didn’t look like a freshman though,
right?”
“What do you mean?” Taylor asked suspiciously.
“I’m just saying, for a girl her age,
she looked very…mature. Is that fair to
say?”
“I didn’t really notice,” Taylor said
far too defensively.
“Good call, my man,” Keri said approvingly.
“I’ll bet Jan would have been pissed if
she thought you were taking an interest in
her little sister. The real question is—did
Tara ever take an interest in you?”
“What?”
“Like, she did ever give you a side-eye
glance when Jan wasn’t looking? I mean,
you are the Rush Chairman of your fraternity,
right? That’s a big deal. And you’re pretty
easy to look at. Are you telling me she never
tried to get with you? Not even once?”
“I mean, sure, she gave me looks sometimes,”
he said, as if he hated to have the tidbit
dragged out of him.
“I’ll bet. Any chance she told you to
visit her after Jan dropped her off so you
two could spend a little quality time together?
I mean, no prying eyes up there, right?”
Taylor looked over at her, as if he was deciding
if she was messing with him. After a long
pause, he spoke.
“We might have hooked up.”
“Oh yeah?” Keri said, keeping her suddenly
pounding heart under control by focusing on
her own voice. “That’s kind of hot. How
did it go down?”
“You won’t tell Jan, right?” he asked.
“No, of course not. Like I said, we just
want to map her last known location, that
kind of thing. Besides, I always like a good
‘sex in the woods’ story. I’m divorced
myself so I can use the fantasy material,
you know? Call me Keri, by the way.”
She felt borderline sick to her stomach saying
this stuff, but every time she did, it seemed
to throw the kid off, make his suspicions
dissipate, turn his attention to her chest.
That was a fair trade-off.
She saw the sign for the Leo Carrillo Campground
and knew the turnoff was imminent. She needed
him to start spilling soon.
“All right,” he said, seeming to decide
there was no harm. “After the sisters took
the girls, I decided to follow them up. My
first plan was to put a few of them in the
car and drive them further up the mountain,
to make it a bit harder. They’re such wusses.”
“Right,” Keri said, egging him on as she
turned off the Pacific Coast Highway onto
Mulholland Highway. “You’ve been through
much worse, I’m sure.”
“Exactly. So by the time I get up there,
the only girl I could find was Tara. I was
gonna do the whole trick but then at the last
minute I started to feel bad and offered to
give her a ride back down instead so she could
avoid the long walk.”
“That was cool of you.”
“I know. So we’re hanging out in the car,
kind of talking, and one thing leads to another.
Next thing you know, we’re doing it.”
“Whoa,” Keri said, hoping she wasn’t
laying it on too thick.
“Yeah, it was pretty awesome. Anyway, like
I said, afterward I offered to take her back
down the mountain. I even said I’d drive
her all the way back to campus if she kept
it quiet.”
 “So she wouldn’t even have to finish
the challenge?”
“Right,” Taylor said. “I probably went
too far with that one. In fact, she said no
to all of it. She actually had me drop her
off back where I’d picked her up. She said
she wanted to finish the challenge for real,
which I really admired.”
“She sounds like one heck of a girl, Taylor.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, we’re heading up there now. So
just keep your eyes peeled and you can point
out the spot where you dropped her off. That
will really help us out with our investigation,
okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed.
The car got quiet as they made their way up
the winding road. Keri stole a glance at her
phone and saw that she no longer had any reception.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
Evelyn sat curled up on the bathroom floor,
her back pressed against the locked door,
her body heaving in near silent sobs. It had
taken less than an hour for everything to
fall apart.
She really had tried. The court appointee,
a mousy woman in her thirties named Carla,
had picked her up from school and tried to
make small talk on the way to her dad’s
house. She explained that the visit would
last about two hours and that she would be
in the room the whole time.
That sounded great but it turned out to be
only technically true. After they got in the
house and settled in the living room, Carla
took out her phone and put in her earbuds.
Shalene and Sammy hung around for about ten
minutes before he had to go down for his nap,
which seemed pretty convenient to Evelyn.
Her dad was pleasant for about a half hour
after that—asking how school was, what her
friends were like—and completely avoiding
the topic of her trying to kill herself after
her last visit. But around the forty-minute
mark, he started talking, ever so casually,
about a really great private school in the
area.
Then he mentioned that Shalene’s sister
had a son who saw an amazing therapist—maybe
she’d like to meet him. He also let it slip
that they were taking a family trip to Europe
around the Fourth of July and he’d love
for her to come. Unfortunately, it wasn’t
possible until the custody situation was resolved.
And then he was asking how her mom was handling
being back on the force. Evelyn didn’t mention
the incident last night with her pointing
a gun at a delivery man. Finally, after a
quick glance over at the oblivious Carla,
he told her how worried he’d been about
her and how he didn’t blame her for what
happened and knew that she’d only said and
done what she’d said and done because her
mom had turned her against him.
Evelyn stared at him, not sure whether to
be horrified or angry. Was this the best he
could do after not seeing her for three months?
After she’d carefully rebuilt her life since
trying to commit suicide? To dive right back
into the same crap that screwed her up in
the first place?
She looked at him, no longer hearing his words,
trying to picture the man she used to cuddle
up with to read at night before bed. Where
had that guy gone? This man still looked a
lot like that one. But it was like his soul
had been sucked out and replaced by someone
else she didn’t recognize.
Her mom was a mess—a raw nerve of violent,
hair-trigger emotion. But at least Evelyn
still recognized her as the same woman who’d
tucked her in at night and braided her hair
and sang lame songs from the 1980s. This guy
was a stranger.
And the next thing she knew, she was running
down the hall away from him. And then she
was in the locked bathroom, with her father
banging on door, demanding she open it. She
could hear Carla asking him to calm down even
as Evelyn tried to call her mom. It kept going
straight to voicemail so she called Mags,
who picked up right away. She had trouble
explaining the situation but Mags seemed to
get it anyway.
“I’m on my way,” she said. “I’ll
be there in fifteen minutes.”
She was there in ten. Evelyn could hear her
outside the door, using her honeyed inflection
to try to soothe her dad, who seemed immune
to her charms. Mags asked her to open the
door but she wouldn’t as long as her father
was there and he refused to leave.
Then Evelyn got a text. It was from Mags.
It said simply: “Called Ray. Here soon.
Hang tight, darling.”
Ten minutes after that, she heard Ray’s
deep voice. He sounded calm but she had gotten
to know him well enough to realize that when
he was this calm, it usually meant he was
doing all he could to keep his anger in check.
His voice resonated clearly through the door.
“This visit is over, Mr. Locke,” he said,
and Evelyn found it interesting that he didn’t
call her dad Stephen. “Margaret Merrywether
will be taking Evelyn home, as has been agreed
upon.”
“But the visit is supposed to be two hours!”
her dad insisted.
“It’s being cut short,” Ray said evenly.
“Surely you don’t want to force your daughter
to stay if she isn’t up to it. If that’s
a problem for you, take it up with the court.”
“You better believe I will,” her dad hissed.
“Don’t think that badge scares me.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t, Mr. Locke,”
Evelyn heard Ray say before his voice dropped
nearly to a whisper. “Why would a badge
scare a man who’s blind to his own daughter
trying to put her life back together, who’s
so concerned with his own needs that he can’t
be bothered with hers, who has her locked
in a bathroom after less than an hour in his
company? But you know what I bet does scare
you? My fists. And they should, because if
you ever make that girl feel unsafe again,
you’ll have me to deal with. Am I making
myself clear, sir?”
There was no response, but a few seconds later
she heard the sound of footsteps walking away.
“It’s okay to come out now, darling,”
Mags said.
Evelyn opened the door and threw herself into
her open waiting arms. After a long hug, she
felt Ray scoop her up and carry her out of
the house. She kept her eyes closed the whole
time.
*
“I think this is the spot,” Taylor said,
pointing to a nondescript section of woods
not too far from where Keri had found Tara’s
phone.
Keri pulled over and got out. Taylor was now
pretty much completely sober and she could
sense he knew he’d made a series of terrible
mistakes by coming here and being so forthcoming
along the way. She suspected he’d just picked
a random section of trees in the hopes that
Keri wouldn’t find anything and they could
be on their way. What he didn’t realize
was that she’d intentionally slowed down
a half mile back so there was no way they’d
overshoot this spot.
“This is the spot where you had sex or this
is the spot where you dropped her off afterward?”
she asked.
“Dropped her off, I guess?” he said, sounding
unsure.
“So you had sex in the car then?”
“Right.”
“Because you said you talked in the car,
had sex, and then dropped her off so she could
finish the challenge. So the sex was in the
car? She definitely got in the car with you?”
“I think so,” Taylor said. “I mean…to
be honest, I had a little to drink that night
and some of the details are a little hazy.
Does it really matter?”
“It kind of does, Taylor. For us to pinpoint
where best to search for Tara, we need to
know the last place anyone saw her and it
sounds like you were that last person.”
“Wait, what are you saying?” he demanded.
“Are you accusing me of something?”
“Have I accused you of anything, Taylor?
Other than being a good guy who’s trying
to help find a missing girl? That’s what
you are, right?”
“I just feel like you’ve kind of started
getting a bitchy attitude in the last few
minutes and I don’t think that’s cool.”
“I don’t mean to sound bitchy, Taylor.
I’m just trying to nail down the particulars,”
she said, leading him in the general direction
where she’d found the phone. “Could you
guys maybe have done it over here?”
She watched as his eyes followed her movements
before involuntarily flickering to another
spot just beyond the drop-off of a steep hill
over to the right. He forced himself to look
back toward her but Keri could sense his eyes
being drawn back toward the drop-off, like
they were being pulled by an invisible magnet.
“Maybe it was over here?” she volunteered,
wandering in the direction he’d been trying
not to look. She saw him stiffen as she approached
the area. As she walked over, she made sure
to keep an eye on both her destination and
Taylor. She let her right arm drop casually,
brushing against the clasp of her gun holster.
Glancing over the edge of the hill, at first
she saw nothing. But then, in an area where
a pile of leaves seemed to have accumulated,
she caught sight of what looked to be clothes—a
pair of jeans, a woman’s top, and a pair
of sneakers.
“Down there, Taylor?” Keri asked. “Does
that seem about right?”
“I’m not sure. Like I said, I was pretty
drunk. I don’t really remember much at all,
other than that she was really coming on to
me hard.”
“Okay, so maybe she took you down there
so no cars with bright headlights would catch
sight of what she wanted to do to you? Is
that possible?”
“That sounds possible,” Taylor replied.
“Well, let’s go take a look, shall we?”
“It’s kind of steep.”
“You managed it once, Taylor. It shouldn’t
a problem for you. You’re a lot younger
than me, after all. You don’t want to get
shown up by some middle-aged lady, do you?
What would your brothers say about that?”
“You said this was going to stay between
us,” he reminded her, a sharpness coming
into his voice.
“I’m just teasing you, Taylor. I would
never tell anyone an old lady out-hiked you.”
That was enough to send him down the hill
ahead of her. He stumbled a couple of times
but never fell. Taylor was so focused on staying
upright that he didn’t notice Keri studying
the clothes as they got closer. She didn’t
like what she saw. When they got to the bottom
she directed him closer to them.
“Pick up the jeans by the cuffs at the bottom,”
she instructed.
“But then I’ll get my fingerprints on
them,” he objected. “Won’t that contaminate
the crime scene?”
“Taylor, if you helped her take off those
jeans to have sex, your fingerprints are already
on them, so it’s no big deal.” She didn’t
draw attention to the fact that he’d used
the term “crime scene.” But she did undo
the clasp on her holster. He picked up the
jeans.
“Hey, Taylor, can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Why is there blood near the crotch of those
jeans?”
Taylor looked at the jeans and then dropped
them back on the ground. When he looked back
at her, his eyes were squinting in anger.
Keri could tell that he was through playing
her games.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Keri breathed in the crisp, late afternoon
mountain air, waiting to see how Taylor Hunt
would react.
She was ready for him if he came at her. But
she was hoping his arrogance and entitlement
would get the better of him and he’d try
to verbally bully her. As long as he kept
talking, she was getting information that
might save Tara.
“You’re so smart, bitch, why don’t you
tell me? Maybe it’s just that time of the
month for her?”
“Wouldn’t that have come up as you were
discussing your upcoming sexual encounter,
Taylor?” she asked. “Wouldn’t Tara have
mentioned it to you?”
“You got something to say, say it,” he
spat. “Because I don’t like all the sweet-talk
accusations you’re making, lady. You act
all into me but then you start throwing shade
my way. You could hurt a guy’s feelings.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything, Taylor.
I’m certainly not accusing you of stalking
Tara. I’m not accusing you of forcing her
down into this gully, ripping her clothes
off and sexually assaulting her. I’m not
suggesting that she tried to escape by clawing
her way up that part of the hill right there
in nothing but her underwear and bare feet.”
Taylor looked over at a spot on the hill where
the grass had been torn loose, leaving long
streaks of indented dirt in its place. Then
he looked back at Keri, half guilty, half
perplexed. She didn’t give him a chance
to respond.
“Don’t worry, Taylor. I would never suggest
that you tried to chase her up the hill and
she either kicked you back or you fell and
landed in that spot of indented earth back
there, where you probably got knocked out
or passed out for a few hours before eventually
waking up, crawling up the hill, getting in
your car, and drunkenly returning to campus.”
Taylor glanced at the spot she referenced
with a sense of familiarity that made her
certain she was right. She continued.
“Hell, you probably, never even noticed
Tara’s shattered cell phone up at the top
of the hill that I’m sure slipped from her
hand as she tried to call for help before
deciding to just walk back down the road mostly
naked. I wouldn’t accuse you of any of that,
Taylor.”
“You are such a bitch,” he seethed.
“And you are one of the dumbest criminals
I have ever come across. Were you always this
stupid? Or is it just all the brain cells
you lost from the day drinking?”
Apparently that was the last straw. He came
at her with surprising speed for someone hung
over and out of control. But Keri had been
expecting it, baiting him into it, in fact.
She waited until he was less than a foot away
before sliding to the left and thrusting her
pointed kneecap into the meat of his thigh.
He grunted as he collapsed on his stomach
into the leaves beside her. After a moment,
he tried to roll over to pull her down. But
she was already dropping to meet him, her
right fist pinned to her chest so that her
elbow formed a sharp point as her full body
weight slammed it down against the right side
of his rib cage. She felt a crack at the same
time as she heard him cry out in pain.
While he was still gasping for air, she rolled
him back onto his stomach, pulled his hands
behind his back, and cuffed him. Confident
that he wasn’t going anywhere, she sat for
a moment, catching her breath.
Then she stood and snapped a few photos of
the scene. She didn’t have any evidence
bags and she didn’t want to disturb anything
for the forensic team she would call when
she got back down the mountain.
“Time to go, Taylor,” she said, hauling
him to his feet.
“You are so screwed,” he gasped through
painful inhalations. “My dad runs the biggest
investment firm on the West Coast. He’s
gonna run you out of town on a rail.”
“Oh yeah, can investment bankers get their
sons off on murder charges?” she asked,
shoving him up the hill.
“I didn’t kill her, you old skank!”
he screamed. “Maybe I was little rough but
she was into it. I could tell. I didn’t
do anything wrong.”
“How do you know you didn’t accidentally
kill her by being so rough?” Keri asked.
She hadn’t actually arrested him yet and
if he was willing to keep talking she was
willing to listen.
“The last time I saw her, she was scrambling
up this hill. I couldn’t very well accidentally
kill her from flat on my back, could I? You
are such an idiot, I can’t even stand it.”
They reached the top of the hill. Keri looked
at the guy, debating whether there was anything
else useful he could offer her. He’d essentially
confessed to raping her. The physical evidence
to support the charge was down the hill below.
She was pretty sure he hadn’t killed her.
Even if she didn’t believe his story, Marla
and Nicky from the campground supported the
theory that she got away physically, if not
mentally.
Nope, I’m pretty much done with Taylor Hunt.
“I’m sorry to hear you can’t stand what
an idiot I am, Taylor. Maybe you’d like
to take a seat.”
“Wha…?” he started to say. But before
he got the word out she punched him square
in his broken rib. He dropped to his knees
involuntarily and began to whimper between
gasps for breath.
“That’s more like it,” she said. “Now
on to official business. You have the right
to remain silent…”
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
“A body?” Keri repeated, not sure she’d
heard Hillman correctly as she watched the
Sheriff’s Department put Taylor Hunt in
the back of their patrol car to be transported
back to West LA Division.
She’d been on the phone with him nonstop
since she’d gotten back in cell range, coordinating
Hunt’s return and the ongoing search for
Tara, but this was the first she’d heard
of a body.
“Yes, Locke,” Hillman replied. “The
report just came in a moment ago. The captain
of a small sailboat coming back from Anacapa
Island says he saw what looked like a female
body on the rocks in the water near Point
Dume.”
“Has she been identified?”
“No,” he said. “The Coast Guard says
that with the weather changing, the waves
are too choppy to get close to those rocks,
especially with the light fading fast. They’re
going to coordinate to have some divers check
it out. But that may take a couple of hours.”
“Could the guy on the sailboat tell anything
more? Was she in something that looked like
underwear or a bikini?”
“All I know is that he thought it was a
female.”
“Then I say we proceed with the search in
the mountains,” Keri insisted. “The Coast
Guard is right. The weather is changing. The
last few nights have been in the low sixties
but it’s going to get into the mid-forties
tonight. If she’s out in those woods, she
won’t make it in that type of cold.”
 “Locke, we have to be realistic about
this. It’s late afternoon—too late to
start a search tonight. And even if we did,
I’m not confident we’d find anything good.
We’re approaching forty-eight hours missing.
Even if that body in the water isn’t her,
I’m not sure I believe the girl really got
away from that Hunt kid, despite what he said.
I wouldn’t be surprised if we found a shallow
grave not too far from where you discovered
those clothes. That’s why I want to call
in the cadaver dogs first thing in the morning.”
“Cadaver dogs?” Keri repeated, incredulous.
“What about what those campers said about
seeing her in underwear and having her wallet
and headband?” Keri asked.
“How do we know Hunt didn’t take that
stuff and pay them to say those things to
throw us off the scent? That way we waste
all our time trying rescue a living girl instead
of hunting for a dead one.”
“Lieutenant,” Keri insisted, “with all
due respect, I spent the whole afternoon with
this kid. He’s not capable of that kind
of planning.”
“You may be right. But we both know lots
of stories of clever college kids deceiving
overconfident cops. Let’s not fall into
that trap. Come back to the station. You can
lead point on the interrogation. And if you
want, you can lead point again tomorrow morning,
right next to those dogs. Now I’ve got someone
else who wants to talk to you so I’m going
to transfer you over, all right?”
“Yes sir,” Keri said, despite feeling
deeply uneasy with his intended course of
action.
“Keri,” came Ray’s voice over the line.
“You okay? We couldn’t reach you for a
while.”
“I’m fine. We were up in the mountains
for a while. I lost reception. Did I miss
a lot?”
“Kind of. Keep the line open. I’m going
to call you right back on my cell.”
He hung up before she could reply. Looking
down at her phone for the first time since
she’d called Hillman, Keri noticed a rash
of missed calls—three from Evelyn followed
by two from Mags, then two more from Ray and
one from Castillo. All were within twenty
minutes of each other earlier this afternoon.
She saw there were several voicemails and
was about to hit the button to listen when
Ray called back.
“I just saw my missed calls,” she began.
“What’s going on with Evelyn?”
“She’s okay. Before I fill you in, just
know that she’s okay. She’s with Mags
right now at your apartment.”
“What happened, Raymond?”
“It didn’t go well at Stephen’s. I was
only there for the tail end of it—”
“You went to his house?”
“Yes. According to Ev, it started okay but
then devolved into him badmouthing you and
suggesting particular therapists, a new school.
I guess it overwhelmed her. She locked herself
in a bathroom. He was pounding on the door.
She tried to call but you were out of range
in Malibu. So she called Mags, who went straight
over.”
“Where was the court person during all this?”
Keri demanded.
“She was there but apparently pretty useless.
Anyway, Stephen was still big-footing things,
so Mags called me. I was just finishing up
with Jonas, who, as you know, only lives a
few miles away. So I came over. After that,
things calmed down. Stephen backed off for
the most part. We got Ev out of there, went
for some ice cream, and then Mags took her
back to your place. She said she’d spend
the night tonight to help out.”
“What about her kids?” Keri asked as she
pulled onto PCH and headed back toward the
city.
“They’re at her ex’s for the week,”
Ray said. “Speaking of, she wanted me to
make it clear to you that you are getting
a new attorney, specifically her divorce attorney,
the one who handled her custody issues. She
stepped away to call him while we were having
ice cream. She said to expect a call from
him tomorrow.”
“That’s sweet, but I doubt I can afford
any attorney Margaret Merrywether uses.”
“She said you’d say that. And she wanted
me to convey that she’d float the cost of
his services until you write your memoirs.
She said not to argue because it was already
done. She also said this guy is a pit bull
who will tear Stephen a new rectum, although
her language may have been a bit more colorful.”
“Oh, jeez,” Keri sighed. “I leave cell
range for a couple of hours and all hell breaks
loose. I can’t thank either of you enough.
How’s Ev doing?”
“Hard to tell,” Ray admitted. “She was
pretty traumatized when we left the house
but after a double scoop she seemed okay.
She was having fun imitating Mags’s accent.
I considered that a plus.”
“I’ll take whatever I can get, I guess.”
“Well, don’t relax just yet,” Ray warned.
“I have a little more news for you.”
“What else could there possibly be?”
“Castillo got a hit from the personnel files,”
Ray said quietly.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes,” he said, “and it didn’t take
long either. Only one person in the unit has
anything close to a connection to a powerful
local politician. Once she found the link,
she checked to reconfirm and to see if they’re
still in touch. They are.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Who
is it?”
“Keri,” Ray said softly, “Garrett Patterson
is the mole.”
“Grunt Work?” Keri repeated, taken aback.
“How does she know for sure?”
“One of his first assignments when he first
started the job was as part of the personal
protective detail for Carl Weatherford, the
County Supervisor for the Third District.
He was on his detail for about three years
before he got transferred but they stayed
in touch. In fact, they speak regularly, with
dozens of calls in the last few years.”
“Maybe they’re just friends?” Keri said
hopefully, not wanting to believe someone
she had worked with so closely could have
betrayed her so deeply.
“Maybe,” Ray said skeptically. “It’s
possible they’re just golfing buddies. But
a lot of those calls are at odd hours, often
in the middle of the night. And a bunch of
them are clustered around times when you were
pursuing leads about Evelyn.”
“But why would he do this?” Keri asked.
“Castillo wondered that too,” Ray said.
“So after triple-checking to make sure no
one else in the unit was connected to Weatherford,
she came to me to ask if she could pull in
Edgerton to check Garrett’s financials.
She couldn’t reach you and she figured that
if anyone could sneak a peek at them on the
sly, it was him. So I okayed it. Hope you
don’t mind.”
“No. It was the right call. What did he
find?” she asked as she approached Pepperdine
University. The Tuesday night rush hour traffic
was agonizingly slow.
“The routing is a little complicated so
I won’t bore you with the details, but Patterson
has been getting cash ‘gifts’ from an
uncle of his starting around the second year
he joined Weatherford’s detail.”
“How much?” Keri demanded.
“About ten grand annually, every year up
until now—always just under the limit required
to declare it for tax purposes.”
“That hardly seems like enough to do the
things he must have done,” Keri insisted.
“But it’s not the amount,” Ray pointed
out. “Once he took anything, he was on the
hook. From the moment he took the first payoff,
Weatherford could hold it over him, threaten
to rat him out.”
“But couldn’t that work both ways?”
“I’m sure Grunt Work thought of that too.
But clearly not or he’d have gotten out
from under by now. I’m willing to bet the
good Supervisor found a way to insulate himself
and leave Garrett out in the cold.”
“So Edgerton couldn’t find anything sketchy
on Weatherford?” Keri asked, trying not
to let her frustration overwhelm her. She
had a strong urge to honk at every car in
her immediate vicinity for no particular reason.
“I didn’t say that,” Ray told her. “The
guy may have insulated himself from Grunt
Work. But that doesn’t mean he was able
to hide everything. Once Edgerton realized
what kind of slimy bastard he was up against,
he really started digging in. And he found
a few things.”
“Like?”
“All kinds of shell companies,” Ray said.
“You have to get through a few layers to
find out the real connections. But let’s
just say Edgerton was incentivized. Weatherford
has his hands in shady city construction deals
and a liquor distribution business that gets
surprisingly good rates from local watering
holes. Not to mention a hidden bank account
in the Cayman Islands. But I’m burying the
lead.”
“What’s the lead?” Keri asked.
“He seems to have been tight with Jackson
Cave. There are countless calls between them.
Cave wasn’t his lawyer but worked with Weatherford’s
firm all the time. And his personal financials
have all kinds of sketchy payouts for things
like ‘team outings’ and ‘civic beautification
disbursements.’”
“Sounds like a slush fund for drugs and
girls.”
“Agreed,” Ray said. “And I’m betting
Cave supplied a lot of both. I think it’s
pretty safe to assume this is who he was referencing
as the higher-up before he died.”
“I think so too,” Keri said. “So what
are the next steps?”
“We’re prepping a warrant for everything
now—his home, phone records, financials.
Once we have all our ducks in a row, we’ll
go to Hillman. Edgerton’s deep-dived his
records and he has no connection to Weatherford
so I think it’s safe to fill him in. But
I want to wait until we’re set. I assume
he’ll authorize a warrant for Grunt Work’s
arrest and approve moving on the Supervisor.
We’ll probably wait until first thing in
the morning to go to a judge.”
“Sounds like you’ve had a busy afternoon,
partner.”
“All that and babysitting a movie star too,”
Ray conceded.
“Oh yeah. How did that go?” Keri asked
as she inched past Pepperdine. She saw a strip
center off to the left and debated pulling
in for a bathroom break.
“There wasn’t much to it. It was pretty
clear he hadn’t gotten any secret ransom
calls. I think he mostly wanted to commiserate.
He kept talking about things they did when
she was younger—lots of stories about camping
and hiking and stuff. He said he’d been
thinking about suggesting a hike to that Sandstone
Peak she liked the next time she visited,
as a way to reconnect and maybe heal some
wounds. Now he doesn’t know if he’ll ever
get the chance. He hates how they left things.
I really felt for him, Keri.”
“Yeah, well. It’s going to get a lot worse
for him if that body off Point Dume is her,”
Keri said, immediately put off by the coldness
in her own voice.
“I guess,” Ray said, noticing it too.
“I’m sorry. I’m frustrated by this traffic
and I have to pee really bad. I’m going
to pull over and find a spot. I’ll check
in with you when I get closer to the city,
okay?”
After they hung up, she navigated her way
through the strip center and parked in front
of a bookstore she hoped had a bathroom. As
she walked through the aisles to the back
of the store she passed a section titled Malibu:
Local Lore, Legends & Logistics.
After she finished up, she walked back through
the same section. She stopped in the middle
of the aisle, thinking for a long time. She
had that familiar itch in the back of her
brain, the kind she couldn’t quite scratch.
Then she stepped over to the shelf with guidebooks,
noting that the “Legends” subtitle was
a clever reference to both folklore and maps.
She pulled out a book on hiking the Santa
Monica Mountains and flipped to the page about
Sandstone Peak. It listed the multiple trails
leading to the top, including the grueling
Mishe Mokwa Trail and the far less intense
Sandstone Peak Trail. Both ultimately led
to the 3,111-foot summit and the seemingly
unimpressive reward of coming face to face
there with the plaque of Herbert Allen, who
had apparently donated a bunch of the land
in the area to the Boy Scouts.
Herbert Allen. A thought flashed through Keri’s
head—something that the drunken camper Marla
had told her Tara said: she was going to hook
up with her old buddy, Herbie.
Could she really have been planning to walk
all the way from the ocean to the top of this
mountain in just her underwear?
It only took a second for Keri to decide that,
yes, she could.
CHAPTER FORTY
Keri tried not to let excitement overwhelm
logic as she pulled out her phone and did
a quick search of the distance from the Leo
Carrillo Campground to Sandstone Peak. It
was well over nine miles using marked roads.
But she suspected that if that’s where Tara
was headed, she wasn’t using roads.
She tried to project herself into the girl’s
mind from two nights ago. She’d been recently
assaulted. She was barely clothed. From Marla’s
description, she sounded disoriented and confused,
possibly concussed or in shock—maybe both—after
the attack by Taylor.
That might explain her seemingly unhinged
desire to find her friend Herbie, to return
to a place that held positive memories for
her, before everything started to fall apart.
As crazy as it sounded, it also made sense.
Keri looked at her watch. It was already after
6 p.m. and the sun was starting to dip in
the sky. In a little over an hour it would
be dark. She called Hillman, steeling herself
to tell him what she needed.
“How did you hear so fast?” he asked before
she could speak.
“Fill me in,” she said noncommittally,
not wanting to reveal that she no idea what
he was talking about.
“The Coast Guard says the body off Point
Dume isn’t Tara Jonas. It was some spring
breaker who got caught in a rip current near
Zuma Beach.”
“That doesn’t surprise me because I know
where Tara is,” Keri said.
“Where?”
“Somewhere in the Santa Monica Mountains.
She’s trying to get to the top of Sandstone
Peak.”
“What?” Hillman asked, flabbergasted.
Keri quickly explained her theory and her
plan. She wanted a Search and Rescue team
to help her comb the area from the campground
up to the mountain, following both the Yerba
Buena Road path and the more direct route
straight through the wilderness.
“That’s a massive area, Locke. There’s
no way we can cover all of it, especially
with darkness approaching.”
“That’s why we have to do it fast, Lieutenant.
Like I said, the last few nights have been
pretty warm but it’s going to be really
cold tonight, worse in the mountains. She
won’t survive out there dressed like she
is.”
“We don’t have the manpower for a search
like this, even if we called in County resources.”
“Call in for helicopters then,” Keri demanded,
trying to keep her frustration in check. “That
way we’ll need fewer men.”
“They won’t authorize that kind of expense.”
“That’s fine, Lieutenant,” Keri said,
channeling her fury into a calm tone she didn’t
know she was capable of. “I’ll just give
Roan Jonas a call. I’m sure when I tell
him we can’t afford to pay for a helicopter
search for his daughter, he’ll be fine picking
up the cost. Maybe he can send out a tweet
to his followers to form volunteer search
parties. I think that’s the way to go. Let’s
get hundreds of untrained folks traipsing
around in the dark mountains. I’m sure it
will turn out great.”
There was a long silence on the other end
of the line before Hillman finally responded.
“I’ll call the Chief,” he growled. “We’ll
scramble a team. They should be onsite in
less than an hour.”
“Great,” Keri said enthusiastically. “I’m
going to buy some gear at the camping store
across the street and head straight for the
peak in case she made it there. It would be
great if you could ask a team to meet me there.”
“Locke.”
“Yes sir?”
“I don’t know if threatening your boss
on your second day back at work is the best
career advancement move.”
“I’ll take that under advisement, sir.
Got to go now.”
*
Things moved fast from there. First she called
both Ray and Mags to let them know she wouldn’t
back any time soon. Mags reaffirmed that she’d
spend the night at the apartment and said
not to sweat it.
Then Keri loaded up at the nearby camping
store, getting the clerk’s recommendation
on what she needed for a nighttime mountain
hike and leaving with a trail map, a headlamp,
a flashlight, a puffy jacket, and a small
backpack. She filled that up with water, energy
bars, a flare gun, and a personal locator
beacon. She also threw in a thermal blanket,
a pair of hiking pants, a sweater, and a second
puffy jacket, all in case she found Tara.
She was at the Sandstone Peak trailhead a
half hour later. According to the map she
bought, it was only a mile to the peak from
where had parked, but the 1,100-foot elevation
was fast and steep.
She put on the headlamp, zipped up the jacket,
threw the backpack over her shoulders, and
started out just as the sun dipped beyond
the Pacific Ocean. Almost immediately, she
felt an increasing chill in the air. Looking
at temperature on her phone, she saw it had
already dipped into the mid-fifties. She could
only imagine what it felt like at the top
of that exposed, wind-swept mountain peak.
The climb was brutal. Within minutes her thighs
were burning as she trudged upward at what
seemed like a permanent forty-five-degree
angle. Despite the headlamp and flashlight,
she tripped multiple times on loose rocks
and unseen notches in the trail.
Even though it had dipped to about fifty degrees,
sweat dripped down her brow. She occasionally
called out to Tara but gave up after a while,
when she got no response and her throat became
sore and hoarse.
After about forty-five minutes, she came to
a sign that pointed her toward the actual
peak. She looked in that direction and saw
a carved-rock stairwell that turned into more
of a sheer gravel scramble after the first
fifty feet or so. She took several big gulps
of water, retied the laces of her woefully
inadequate loafers, which had turned into
blister-creation machines, and started up.
She fell twice, once hitting her left knee
so hard on a rock that she thought she might
have cracked it. Branches just out of her
line of sight ripped at her face as she pulled
herself upward, using whatever semi-solid
surface she could get a grip on.
Eventually, the trees and brush gave way,
giving a clear view of the summit, only a
hundred rocky, jagged feet away. There was
no sign of Tara. Keri stood still, listening
for a noise—crying, moaning, anything that
might suggest a person was up there, maybe
hidden among the rocks.
Keri briefly considered stopping there and
turning around. But she decided to push to
the top. She had come this far. And part of
her knew there was a chance that Tara might
yet be up here, just no longer alive. She
steeled herself to find her body, maybe curled
up in some corner, out of sight, where she’d
hidden from the elements, hoping to find a
place of safety.
After another ungainly five minutes she made
it. Keri was at the peak, staring at Herbert
Allen’s plaque. He looked back at her with
a severe, almost mournful expression that
she knew she was giving more meaning than
he intended.
After taking a moment to catch her breath,
she noticed a mail slot at the base of the
plaque and opened it. Inside was a summit
register people could sign to indicate they’d
been here. She flipped through to the end,
debating whether it would be appropriate to
add her name to the list. That’s when she
saw the most recent entry: Tara Justin.
Keri dropped the register and looked around.
She seemed to be alone. But Tara had been
here, and recently.
“Tara?” she called out.
There was movement off to her right. She shined
the flashlight in that direction and saw a
figure behind a rock about twenty feet away
on what appeared to be the very edge of the
summit.
“Stay away,” a weak voice said.
Keri didn’t make any attempt to move in
her direction, instead pointing the flashlight
off to the side so it wouldn’t be directly
in the girl’s eyes. She didn’t want to
frighten or disorient her, especially when
she looked to be so close to the edge.
“Tara, my name’s Keri. I’m a police
detective. I’ve been looking for you for
a couple of days. People have been very worried
about you. Are you okay?”
“Don’t come close to me,” Tara insisted,
a wild edge in her voice.
“I’m not going to, Tara,” Keri said,
realizing that Tara’s positioning on the
edge of the mountaintop might not be accidental.
“I’m just here to talk. Is it okay if
we talk a little?”
“There’s nothing left to say. There’s
nothing left at all!”
“Are you sure about that, Tara? Because
I don’t think your dad would feel that way.
I think he might have some stuff he wants
to say to you.”
“My dad? What does he have to do with it?”
“How do you think I found you, Tara?”
Keri asked. “It was your dad who told me
how much you two used to love to hike these
mountains, how this was your favorite peak
to climb. He said he was hoping he’d get
another chance.”
“Not anymore he won’t,” Tara whispered
hoarsely. “Not after this. Now he can be
ashamed of me too.”
“Oh, sweetie, he’s not ashamed of you,”
Keri insisted, now fully aware that Tara wasn’t
just on the physical edge of a cliff but the
emotional one too. “He’s ashamed of himself.
He told me what he did and how much it hurt
you. He so desperately wants to make it right.
And when he found out you were gone, all he
cared about was getting you back.”
“Does he know?” Tara asked, unable to
ask the full question but not needing to.
“He doesn’t know what happened to you
yet. I only just found out a few hours ago.
But if you think your father will be ashamed
because of something that was done to you,
you’re wrong. Whatever mistakes he’s made,
he just wants to protect you, to keep you
safe, to make you feel better.”
“But he can’t make it better,” Tara
said, her voice catching.
“No,” Keri admitted. “He can’t. What’s
been done to you can’t be undone. But it
doesn’t have to define you, Tara. You can
move on from it.”
“How do you know?” Tara asked accusatorily.
“Tara,” Keri said quietly, “look at
me. Do you recognize me?”
She shined the flashlight so that it lit up
her own face.
“A little. You look familiar. How do I know
you?”
“You might have seen me on the news. My
daughter was abducted.”
After a moment of silence, Keri could see
the recognition dawn on Tara’s face.
“You’re the detective who was looking
for her daughter all those years. You rescued
her a few months ago.”
“That’s right. I did. But that’s just
the news headline version of it, Tara. The
truth is that, just like you, my daughter
had terrible things done to her. But they
were done over many years. She struggles with
them every day. She’s been through more
in fourteen years than anybody should have
to deal with in ten lifetimes. But she gets
up every morning and faces whatever the day
throws at her. So you ask how I know if someone
can move on from something like this. It’s
because I see it every day, Tara. I see my
daughter’s bravery each time she steps out
the front door to face the world. And I believe
you have that same bravery inside you.”
“I’m not sure I do.”
“I am sure,” Keri said firmly. “And
your dad is sure. And your mom. And your little
brother. And your friend Alice. You’re stronger
than you think you are. You just have to take
that first step. And I’m right here to help
you take it. Step over to me. Let me help
you. I’ve got a sweater and a warm jacket
in my backpack. Let’s get you bundled up
and off this mountain. What do you say, kiddo?”
Tara looked at her for a long time and for
the briefest of seconds, Keri thought she’d
failed and the girl was going to just let
go and tumble off the side of the cliff. But
she didn’t. Instead, she gripped the boulder
she was clinging to and pulled herself forward.
She reached her hand out toward Keri.
“I need help,” she said.
“You’ve got it,” Keri said and started
toward her.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
By the time Keri got back to the apartment
that night, she was so exhausted she could
barely stand up. She peeked in Evelyn’s
room and saw that she was fast asleep. Mags
had commandeered Keri’s bed, assuming she
wouldn’t be home that night, so she crashed
on the couch.
She looked at the clock. It was well after
midnight but she didn’t expect to see Ray
tonight. He was prepping the early morning
arrest of Supervisor Weatherford in conjunction
with Castillo and Edgerton and expected to
be busy all night. He’d said to go home,
rest, and check out the fireworks in the morning.
She was more than happy to do it. After getting
Tara down the mountain with the help of Search
and Rescue, she’s had to warn the Jonas
family about her delicate emotional state,
process paperwork on Taylor Hunt, and deal
with Lieutenant Hillman’s intermittent grousing
at Keri’s tactics. The whole thing had wiped
her out.
When her alarm went off at six the next morning,
she turned on the news. There was nothing
yet about Supervisor Weatherford so she quietly
checked on Evelyn, who was still sleeping.
After that, she headed into the bathroom to
shower off the accumulated grime and dirt
from Sandstone Peak. She washed herself carefully,
cleaning the cuts and scrapes without rubbing
too hard. Then she allowed the warm water
to massage her shoulders for a good ten minutes.
When she finally got out, dried off, and got
dressed, she saw that Mags was still asleep
in her bed. Fighting the urge to wake her,
Keri returned to the living room, where she
saw there was now breaking news on the TV.
It was the Weatherford story. Video of him
being marched out of his Hollywood Hills mansion
in handcuffs was interspersed with file footage
of him giving now-ironic speeches about law
and order. The screen cut back to the anchor,
who mentioned his ties to Jackson Cave and
then made the obligatory reference to Cave’s
confrontation with Keri and his subsequent
death.
Keri had seen enough at that point and turned
it off. It was time to wake Evelyn for school
anyway. She walked into her room. It was empty.
She checked the bathroom but it was empty
too. She poked her head into her own bedroom
again. Mags was starting to stir but Evelyn
was nowhere in sight.
She returned to her daughter’s bedroom and
looked around. Something was off. That’s
when she noticed her phone on the dresser.
Evelyn wouldn’t have gone anywhere without
it.
Feeling panic start to rise in her chest,
Keri looked around and saw that Ev’s favorite
shoes were gone, as was her school backpack.
She rushed to the front closet and found her
best jacket gone too. She glanced at the front
door. It was unlocked. She was sure that despite
her exhaustion, she’d locked it the previous
night.
Mags poked her head out of the bedroom door
and looked at her groggily.
“How’s it going?”
“Have you seen Ev this morning?” Keri
asked.
“No. I only just woke up. What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find her. She was in her room
twenty minutes ago when I went to shower.
Now she’s gone, but her phone isn’t and
the front door is unlocked.”
“Are you sure…?” Mags started to ask
but stopped herself when she saw the look
in Keri’s eyes.
“Something’s wrong, Mags. I can feel it.”
She looked around the living room, desperately
hunting for any clue as to what might have
happened. Her eyes fell on her own phone,
resting on the coffee table. She hurried over
and checked it. There was a text from Evelyn.
It said simply, “I’m so sorry.”
“What the hell?” Mags said, when Keri
showed her the message.
She darted over to her purse and checked the
wallet. All her cash was gone. She didn’t
remember exactly how much she’d had in there
but it was around sixty dollars.
“Why would she have left?” Mags demanded.
“What happened from the time you got in
the shower until you got out that would set
her off like this?”
Keri stopped mid-stride and stared at the
television set.
“I think I know.”
“Care to share?” Mags asked.
“No time right now,” Keri answered as
she threw on some shoes and grabbed her coat.
“I have to find her before she leaves town.”
“What makes you think she’s going to do
that?” Mags asked.
“She’s scared and she just wants to get
away.”
“From what?”
“Her own demons, Mags. She thinks she can
outrun them if she leaves this place. But
I’ve got to find her before it’s too late.”
“Too late? What do you mean?”
“I’m worried that when she finally realizes
she can’t outrun them, she might try to
get rid of them the way she did last time.”
“Jesus,” Mags said. “What can I do,
darling?”
“Please stay here in case she comes back,”
Keri said as she snatched her phone and purse
and headed for the door. “I’ll be in touch.”
Without even a goodbye, Keri stepped outside
into the cold morning air to find her daughter.
*
Keri Locke was a police detective with the
LAPD and that’s how she decided to start
her search. So often in the past, she’d
put herself in the mind of a missing, abducted,
or runaway child, trying to determine how
the kid might think in order to ascertain
what might have happened to them. Just because
this situation involved her daughter didn’t
mean the technique was any different.
She moved quickly, allowing her brain to ride
the wave of instinct she imagined Evelyn would
have followed. Her daughter had left the phone
in the apartment, knowing it could be tracked.
But she had taken the cash, likely in the
hope of getting a ride somewhere. Unable to
use a ride-sharing app without the phone and
not wanting to risk hitching, she would have
likely called for cab.
The closest, safest, currently open place
to do that at this hour was Tanner’s, the
coffee shop at the corner of Culver and Vista
del Mar Lane. Keri half-jogged there and pushed
past the customers in line to get to the clerk.
“Did a teenage girl come in here in the
last twenty minutes asking to use your phone?”
she demanded.
“Hey, lady, there’s a line,” the guy
behind her said, putting his hand on her shoulder.
Keri turned and stared him down.
“There’s going to be a straight line from
my fist to your nose if you don’t back up
right now.”
He removed his hand from her shoulder.
She retuned her attention to the woman behind
the counter, who fearfully pointed at the
back office. Keri hurried past her and redialed
the last number called. Sure enough, it was
a local cab company. After identifying herself,
she was given the destination of the service
call from that location: the Greyhound bus
station downtown.
After sprinting back to the apartment to get
her car and speeding down surface streets
to avoid the traffic-choked morning rush hour
freeways, Keri got to the bus station in less
than an hour. As she walked into the station,
she got a text from Mags that said, “Looks
like I’m missing $75 from my wallet too.”
Keri called the cab company to find out how
much the trip from the coffeehouse to the
bus station had been and when it had arrived.
They said drop-off had been at 7:14 a.m. and
the trip cost $41 without tip. She looked
at her watch. It was 7:47 a.m. now. She moved
to the front of the ticket line and rapped
on the window.
“I need to speak to a supervisor,” she
said, holding up her badge.
The agent buzzed her in and pointed to a haggard-looking
older man in the back corner of the room.
Keri walked over and explained the situation
without preamble.
“I need a list of all the one-way buses
that left in the last half hour or leave in
the next hour and cost less than a hundred
bucks.”
The supervisor casually punched in a few keystrokes
as if he got asked this kind of question every
day.
“Three options,” he said in a bland voice.
“The seven seventeen to Sacramento cost
fifty-two dollars. The seven fifty-four to
El Paso is seventy-nine dollars. And the eight
twenty-two to Vegas is eighty.”
“How late do drivers pull out? Is there
a grace period?”
“Door closes and bus pulls out at the appointed
time. All bags and passengers have to be on
board five minutes prior to departure or their
seats can be given away.”
Keri thought for a moment. There was no way
Evelyn could have arrived at the station at
7:14 and made it onto a 7:17 bus. She could
ask them to hold the other two but she was
pretty confident which route her daughter
had taken.
“Thanks,” she said. “Which lane does
the El Paso bus leave from?”
“Seven,” he answered without looking up.
Keri walked there quickly. She felt certain
there was no way Evelyn would head to Las
Vegas—another city known for its affiliation
with the sex trade. Besides, she sensed her
daughter was frantically trying to get as
far from LA as she could, no matter where
that was. El Paso met the requirement.
As she approached the bus, she looked at her
watch again: 7:53. The driver, a heavyset
guy in his fifties, was just reaching over
to close the doors when she put her foot on
the first step and flashed her badge. She
seemed to be doing a lot of that.
“I need to check something. Won’t take
but a moment.”
He nodded and she stepped on board, taking
in the sea of people in front of her.
“You sold out?” she asked him.
“Uh-huh. Every seat,” he said.
Keri looked up the left side of the bus and
back down the right. Midway up on the right,
in the window seat, she saw what she was looking
for—an empty space. She walked back slowly
until she reached the row.
Sure enough, crouched down low in the seat,
hugging her backpack to her chest, was Evelyn.
Her eyes were closed, as if willing herself
not to be seen. Keri glanced at the older
woman in the seat next to her.
“Can you let this one out please? Her passport’s
been revoked.”
Evelyn opened her eyes and looked up at Keri.
“How did you find me?” she asked meekly.
“I’m a detective, sweetie. It’s kind
of what I do. Now come out of there and let’s
go get some breakfast.”
*
They sat in the diner, neither saying much
beyond ordering. Keri texted Mags to let her
know everything was okay before calling the
school to inform them that Evelyn would be
in a few hours late today. Only when it became
clear that her daughter wasn’t going to
initiate anything did she broach the subject.
“It was the guy on the news, wasn’t it?”
she said. “The Supervisor they arrested.
That’s the man who wore the mask and showed
you the videos of me while he assaulted you,
right?”
Evelyn nodded and sighed heavily before speaking.
“I heard his voice from the bedroom and
I got so scared. When I came out, I saw that
it was just the TV and that he was under arrest.
But it didn’t help. It just brought everything
back. And after yesterday at Dad’s, it was
all just too much, Mom. I had to get away.”
“I get it, sweetie. Really, I do. I still
get nightmares when they flash that lawyer,
Cave, on the screen, and I didn’t go through
anything close to what you did. But running
away isn’t the answer. That’s when you
come to me. And I make them pay.”
“But what if you aren’t there? I called
you yesterday from Dad’s and it just went
to voicemail. I had to call Mags and she called
Ray. It was a whole thing.”
“I heard. And I’m so sorry, Ev. I was
in Malibu up in the hills on a case and there
was no cell service. I know that doesn’t
help you. But it really was a fluke.”
“I know that,” Evelyn said. “And I saw
that you saved that girl. Just like I knew
you would. I don’t want you to feel bad
about that. But Dad’s not going to stop.
And I can’t handle it anymore. It’s like
he doesn’t care what I want. He just wants
to win. And getting custody of me is a win.”
Keri sat quietly, sipping her coffee, uncertain
how to proceed. Finally she decided to just
lay it all on the line. Her daughter deserved
that.
“Listen, Ev. I can’t promise everything
is going to turn out perfectly. But what I
can promise you is that I will always fight
for you. I will fight to make sure this Supervisor
Weatherford pays for what he did. He’d be
going to prison for a very long time even
before anyone knows what he did to you. And
I guarantee that you weren’t the only girl
he hurt. That part of his life is going to
come out too. And one thing I know for sure,
guys who hurt little kids, especially rich,
corrupt politicians, don’t fare too well
behind bars. He’s going to have a very ugly
next thirty years or so.”
Evelyn failed miserably at stifling a smile.
Then something occurred to her and her face
clouded.
“Will I have to testify?” she asked.
“I have a feeling there will be more than
few other girls willing to come forward. Don’t
you worry about that too much. But there is
another situation in which you might have
to testify, one I was hoping to avoid until
now.”
“What’s that?” Evelyn asked, her brow
still horribly furrowed.
“It’s not a hard and fast rule. But in
California, once a child turns fourteen, family
courts give their preference a lot of weight
in custody decisions. And as you may recall,
you recently turned fourteen.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this until now?”
Evelyn asked excitedly, her face brightening.
“Because it’s not the route I wanted to
go. I was hoping your dad and I could find
a way to make this work. But it sounds increasingly
like he’s not willing to do that. And after
yesterday, on top of what happened in January,
I’m not sure you should have to.”
“I don’t want to see him anymore, Mom.
He’s not the same person he was. And I don’t
think he’s even interested in trying to
understand who I am now. Being there is depressing.
I can feel the ulcer start to come back every
time I think about it.”
“Okay, well, Mags gave me the name of her
lawyer and I’m going to talk to him today.
Apparently, he’s the worst—in the best
possible way. But it could get kind of rough.
You need to be prepared for that.”
“You don’t think I can handle rough?”
Evelyn asked skeptically.
“I know you can. I just wanted to warn you.
But here’s the thing. I can handle rough
too. That’s my job. To handle the really
bad stuff so you don’t have to. And I won’t
ever bail on you or let you down. But you
have to trust me. You have to come to me when
you’re having problems, okay? Because the
only way we’re going to get through this
mess is if we stick together. We’re a team,
you and I. Sound good?”
“It sounds good, Mom. Even though that’s
really cheesy, it sounds good.”
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
ONE MONTH LATER
Keri pulled into the police station parking
lot and gulped hard, surprised at how nervous
she felt. It was late afternoon and the spring
sun was still high in the sky. Forcing herself
to stop procrastinating, she got out of the
car and walked into the lobby, where the desk
sergeant gave her a goofy half-smile. She
returned it.
It seemed like everyone was friendlier to
her these days. Well, maybe not everyone;
certainly not Stephen. After she’d hired
Mags’s lawyer, Porter K. Frendlehaus, Esq.,
as her family law attorney, he’d actually
gotten very nasty.
But Keri let Porter handle all that, including
prepping Evelyn for her testimony stating
her strong preference to live with her mother,
as well as establishing that her suicide attempt
had come immediately after, and likely in
part due to, her time in her father’s company.
The judge had granted Keri temporary sole
custody with zero visitation for Stephen.
And even though the final determination wouldn’t
come down for another five months, he seemed
to have lost interest in the fight once it
became clear he would likely lose.
Former County Supervisor Carl Weatherford
wasn’t all that friendly either, especially
after learning Keri had tracked down over
a dozen underage girls he’d assaulted in
the last year alone, all while wearing his
mask. They each identified him by his voice
and distinctive markings on his body. Evelyn
wouldn’t have to testify or even come forward
as a victim if she didn’t want to.
Prosecutors estimated that with those charges,
along with the public corruption, embezzlement,
and racketeering ones, even with good behavior,
he would spend somewhere between forty and
sixty years behind bars. Since he was currently
sixty-six, it was likely he would die in prison.
And because of the sexually violent nature
of some of the allegations, he would be placed
in a maximum security facility, which Keri
especially liked. He would have lots of touchy-feely
friends there.
Garrett Patterson—he’d been informally
stripped of the affectionate nickname “Grunt
Work”—had fared better. By pleading guilty
and turning state’s evidence against Weatherford,
he was expected to be sentenced to between
six and eight years. He’d probably get out
in less than three. But he was persona non
grata for life in law enforcement.
And apart from Frank Brody, who had just retired
and seemed to have developed a soft spot for
the kid immediately thereafter, no one in
the Missing Persons Unit would even speak
to him. Ray had been warned by Hillman on
more than one occasion that attempting to
mete out any form of personal justice could
complicate Patterson’s sentencing and put
his own freedom at risk. Brody had given Keri
a letter Patterson wrote her. And while she
hadn’t burned it or thrown it out, she couldn’t
bring herself to read it.
Maybe one day…in a decade or so.
The good news was that after his good work
helping with the Vista bust, former mall security
officer and current police trainee Keith Fogerty,
who was in high demand, had been promised
to West LA Division as a replacement for Patterson
upon his graduation next month. He wasn’t
a detective. But he’d already proven he
had the skill set to do the grunt work.
Far more friendly these days were the folks
at Internal Affairs, who had formally dropped
their investigation into Keri a few weeks
ago. No one was really pushing the case after
Weatherford’s arrest anyway. But it had
truly become moot after California Governor
Gregg Macklin, at a campaign event announcing
his reelection bid, pardoned her for any offenses
related to her work investigating the disappearance
of her daughter.
Nothing formal was ever said. But Keri couldn’t
help noticing that Roan Jonas, along with
his wife, son, and daughter, Tara, were all
standing near the governor onstage when he
made the announcement.
Keri knew Hillman was glad to have the weight
of the investigation off his shoulders. With
her name no longer under a cloud, Brody now
retired, and Jamie Castillo recently promoted
to detective to join Ray, Manny Suarez, and
Kevin Edgerton in the Missing Persons Unit,
he seemed to have a little extra spring in
his step.
That was, until Keri told him she was stepping
down. Maybe that’s why she was getting all
the goofy half-smiles. Everyone in the division
had to know this was her last day and that
she was really only stopping by to pick up
her box of personal effects. Goodbyes were
awkward, so she was getting those half-smiles
instead.
It had been a tough decision. Part of her
still wasn’t sure she was doing the right
thing. Even in this last month she and Ray
had solved seven of the nine cases they’d
been assigned and returned two kids to their
homes. Victories like that made her think
she should stick around.
Of course, they’d also found two other children
dead, as well as three adults, one of whom
had been chopped up by her own husband. Those
were the cases that tore her up. And with
a vulnerable, recovering teenage girl in the
house, she couldn’t afford to be any more
torn up than necessary.
So she’d reached out to a few universities—UCLA,
USC, not LMU—about returning to Criminology.
They’d all jumped at the prospect. A bidding
war had even broken out. Eventually she chose
UCLA because they were more amenable to her
continuing to consult for the LAPD whenever
she wanted.
Porter K. Frendlehaus, Esq., had also been
a big proponent of the move. In his direct
style, he’d pointed out that the court would
look favorably upon her switching from a job
where she might get shot in the head every
time she went into work to a job where her
biggest risk was sleeping with coeds.
Ev never said it, but Keri knew she was excited
about the move too, if only because it meant
her mother would work more regular hours,
possibly be able to pick her up from school
on occasion, maybe even go to a PTA meeting
here and there.
She also sensed that Ev felt a little guilty,
as if it was her fault her mom wouldn’t
be rescuing people anymore and some kids might
die as a result. Keri kept a close watch on
that, ready to address it if the topic ever
came close to coming up. That’s the last
thing her daughter needed to be piling on
herself just as she was finally starting to
climb out of the pit of darkness that had
been her life for six years.
Keri chose not to think too much about the
question herself: would kids die because she
wasn’t on the job? It wasn’t productive.
And she’d come up with an answer that was
at least somewhat satisfying—recently promoted
Detective Castillo would be Ray’s new partner.
Keri couldn’t think of anyone better to
step into her shoes and keep those kids safe.
Jamie was sharp as a tack, street smart, and
unbelievably tough. She’d also proven loyal,
hardworking, and relentless in pursuit of
justice for victims. Those were the qualities
that really mattered in the end.
Keri knew Ray was glad to have Jamie on board.
But she could tell it was complicated for
him. He wanted to embrace his new partner.
But he also wanted to keep her on her toes
so she wouldn’t get too cocky.
Beyond that, he wanted Keri to know he was
happy for her and the choice she’d made
(he had suggested it, after all) but not so
happy that he wouldn’t miss having her around.
He was in kind of an impossible situation.
But he was handling it with his usual grace.
He didn’t even mind her ribbing him about
how she was now crushing him in the salary
department. With the UCLA professorship salary,
her substantial retainer as a consultant for
the police department, and the advance on
her memoir, she was pretty flush these days.
She’d thought the memoir thing was a joke
when Mags had mentioned it. But when an agent
friend of hers (at Stephen’s rival agency,
no less) pitched Keri on the idea, it was
hard to turn down. And best of all, Mags was
going to co-write it with her, this time under
her real name. “Mary Brady” would have
to take a backseat on this one.
One additional plus of all the added income
was that she and Ev had gone from the tiny
two-bedroom apartment to a much more spacious
three-bedroom townhouse. It was still in Playa
del Rey, so Ev could go to the same school
and see all her friends regularly. But it
was gated, with a real security system. It
even had a homeowners association.
Of course, Ev didn’t care about any of that.
She was more excited that her mom had agreed
to become a foster parent to Susan Granger,
which meant she would have a sister of sorts.
Keri had been reluctant at first when Rita
told her that Susan had reached the limit
of her stay at the group home and would be
going into the foster care system.
But the more she thought about it, the less
she could think of a reason not to do it.
Susan adored her and she’d grown to love
the girl back. And she genuinely thought she
might be able to make a difference in her
life.
Furthermore, even though she was a year ahead
of Ev in school, they had grown very close.
Keri knew that it helped for both of them
to have someone to talk to who understood
the depths of what they’d been through.
As much as she hated to admit it, sometimes
a mom just wasn’t enough. Sometimes a girl
needed a sister.
Keri had been mulling that over a lot. And
though she didn’t dare mention it to Evelyn,
there was the very real possibility that she
might have a sister for real. If the foster
care situation worked out, Keri was seriously
considering making things permanent and adopting
Susan.
With her head full of these thoughts, Keri
stepped through the station lobby doors into
the bullpen to find the entire workforce of
LAPD’s West Los Angeles Pacific Division
standing silently at attention. The Missing
Persons Unit was standing in a tight group
by her desk.
Every cop saluted her in unison. Stunned,
she managed to remind herself to salute back.
After a second, everyone broke into loud applause
and raucous cheers and whistles. The next
fifteen minutes were comprised of officers
coming up to shake her hand or give her a
hug.
For a second, Keri thought she saw Chief Beecher
in the back of the room, behind a crowd of
people. But when she tried to get a better
look, whoever had been there was gone. Maybe
she’d imagined it.
Ray held back as the Missing Persons Unit
got their turn. Hillman was last. As he squeezed
her tight he whispered in her ear.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, Locke.
But you’re not technically retired, so if
you get bored in the world of academia, let
me know. I’m sure we can find something
for you.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant,” she said, not mentioning
that the same idea had occurred to her.
Eventually she walked out with Ray beside
her, carrying her box of things. She gave
one last wave, and then turned to the door,
refusing to look back, intentionally directing
her focus on what was ahead of her.
*
Evelyn ran ahead of Ray and her mom as they
casually strolled along the path that led
from where Culver Boulevard ended to Toes
Beach. They’d just had a celebratory dinner
at Playa Provisions, her mom’s favorite
restaurant (and one she said she could actually
now afford) and were planning to watch the
sun set over the Pacific Ocean.
Evelyn stopped where the path met up with
the Ballona Creek bike path just before the
sand and sat on a bench to wait. She was giddy
but doing her best to hide it. Everything
had changed so much recently. And if things
went as planned, even more changes were on
the way.
Ray and her mom finally caught up just as
the reddish-orange sun started to dip behind
the horizon. Evelyn saw her mom shiver slightly.
Ray immediately took off his jacket and wrapped
it around her shoulders. He looked over at
Evelyn.
“You okay there?” he called out. “Mind
if your mom and I go in the sand for a minute?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she called back, her
legs swinging up and down enthusiastically.
“Go for it.”
“Take off your shoes,” Ray said as he
kicked off his own sandals.
“I don’t want to go in the sand,” her
mom said. “It’ll be cold.”
“Don’t be a wuss,” he said.
“Yeah, Mom, you’re such a wuss!” Evelyn
called out from the bench.
“I’m a wuss—the woman who’s a walking,
talking, bullet-riddled human scar?”
“You’re stalling,” Ray said, stepping
into the sand and reaching his hand out for
hers.
“Yeah, stop stalling,” Evelyn called out,
enjoying the teasing immensely.
“Oh, fine,” her mom said and took Ray’s
hand. She slid off her shoes and stepped into
the sand and stifled a gasp that suggested
she really did consider it especially chilly.
Ray led her out a few steps so that they were
atop a small dune, where they had a better
view of the sunset. The sun was dropping fast.
It was now only halfway visible and hints
of pink and purple were starting to appear.
“Beautiful evening,” Ray said.
“It sure is,” her mom agreed.
It was a little hard to hear her over the
waves crashing in the distance but Evelyn
was paying close attention. She didn’t want
to miss any of this.
“Beautiful girl,” Ray added nonchalantly,
glancing over at her mom.
“Who, me?” she replied playfully.
“Yes, you; the kind of girl you could spend
the rest of your life with.”
“What?” her mom said and Evelyn noticed
that her tone wasn’t playful anymore. It
sounded serious; almost scared.
And the next thing Evelyn knew, Ray was down
on one knee. He had pulled a small black box
out of his pocket and opened it. Ev could
see it glint in what was left of the evening
light.
She couldn’t hear what Ray was saying. But
she could see tears running down his cheeks
as he spoke.
Her mom wasn’t saying a word. She was just
staring at Ray with her eyes wider than Evelyn
had ever seen them. And then Evelyn saw something
else.
It was something she’d seen in her head
many times during all those years away, when
she was suffering, when she’d closed her
eyes and needed something to hold on to, something
to keep her going when she didn’t think
she could anymore.
She saw her mom smile.
COMING SOON!
A NEW SERIES!
WATCHING
(The Making of Riley Paige—Book 1)
“A masterpiece of thriller and mystery!
The author did a magnificent job developing
characters with a psychological side that
is so well described that we feel inside their
minds, follow their fears and cheer for their
success. The plot is very intelligent and
will keep you entertained throughout the book.
Full of twists, this book will keep you awake
until the turn of the last page.”
--Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos
(re Once Gone)
WATCHING (The Making of Riley Paige—Book
One) is book #1 in a new psychological thriller
series by #1 bestselling author Blake Pierce,
whose free bestseller Once Gone (Book #1)
has received over 1,000 five star reviews.
22 year old psychology major—and aspiring
FBI agent—Riley Paige finds herself in a
battle for her life as her closest friends
on campus are abducted and killed by a serial
killer. She senses that she, too, is being
targeted—and that if she is to survive,
she must apply her brilliant mind to stop
the killer herself.
When the FBI hits a dead end, they are impressed
enough by Riley’s keen insight into the
killer’s mind to allow her to help. Yet
the killer’s mind is a dark, twisted place,
one too diabolical to make sense of, and one
that threatens to bring Riley’s fragile
psyche crashing down. In this deadly game
of cat and mouse, can Riley survive unscarred?
An action-packed thriller with heart-pounding
suspense, WATCHING is book #1 in a riveting
new series that will leave you turning pages
late into the night. It takes readers back
20 plus years—to how Riley’s career began—and
is the perfect complement to the ONCE GONE
series (A Riley Paige Mystery), which includes
13 books and counting.
Book #2 in THE MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE series
will be available soon.
WATCHING
(The Making of Riley Paige—Book 1)
Did you know that I've written multiple novels
in the mystery genre? If you haven't read
all my series, click the image below to download
a series starter!
Blake Pierce
Blake Pierce is author of the bestselling
RILEY PAGE mystery series, which includes
twelve books (and counting). Blake Pierce
is also the author of the MACKENZIE WHITE
mystery series, comprising eight books (and
counting); of the AVERY BLACK mystery series,
comprising six books; and of the KERI LOCKE
mystery series, comprising four books (and
counting).
ONCE GONE (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #1),
BEFORE HE KILLS (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book
1), CAUSE TO KILL (An Avery Black Mystery—Book
1), and A TRACE OF DEATH (A Keri Locke Mystery—Book
1) are each available as a free download on
Kobo!
An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery
and thriller genres, Blake loves to hear from
you, so please feel free to visit www.blakepierceauthor.com
to learn more and stay in touch.
BOOKS BY BLAKE PIERCE
THE MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE SERIES
WATCHING (Book #1)
RILEY PAIGE MYSTERY SERIES
ONCE GONE (Book #1)
ONCE TAKEN (Book #2)
ONCE CRAVED (Book #3)
ONCE LURED (Book #4)
ONCE HUNTED (Book #5)
ONCE PINED (Book #6)
ONCE FORSAKEN (Book #7)
ONCE COLD (Book #8)
ONCE STALKED (Book #9)
ONCE LOST (Book #10)
ONCE BURIED (Book #11)
ONCE BOUND (Book #12)
ONCE TRAPPED (Book #13)
MACKENZIE WHITE MYSTERY SERIES
BEFORE HE KILLS (Book #1)
BEFORE HE SEES (Book #2)
BEFORE HE COVETS (Book #3)
BEFORE HE TAKES (Book #4)
BEFORE HE NEEDS (Book #5)
BEFORE HE FEELS (Book #6)
BEFORE HE SINS (Book #7)
BEFORE HE HUNTS (Book #8)
BEFORE HE PREYS (Book #9)
AVERY BLACK MYSTERY SERIES
CAUSE TO KILL (Book #1)
CAUSE TO RUN (Book #2)
CAUSE TO HIDE (Book #3)
CAUSE TO FEAR (Book #4)
CAUSE TO SAVE (Book #5)
CAUSE TO DREAD (Book #6)
KERI LOCKE MYSTERY SERIES
A TRACE OF DEATH (Book #1)
A TRACE OF MUDER (Book #2)
A TRACE OF VICE (Book #3)
A TRACE OF CRIME (Book #4)
A TRACE OF HOPE (Book #5)
B L A K E P I E R C E
Blake Pierce
Blake Pierce is author of the bestselling
RILEY PAGE mystery series, which includes
twelve books (and counting). Blake Pierce
is also the author of the MACKENZIE WHITE
mystery series, comprising eight books (and
counting); of the AVERY BLACK mystery series,
comprising six books; and of the KERI LOCKE
mystery series, comprising four books (and
counting).
ONCE GONE (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #1),
BEFORE HE KILLS (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book
1), CAUSE TO KILL (An Avery Black Mystery—Book
1), and A TRACE OF DEATH (A Keri Locke Mystery—Book
1) are each available as a free download on
Kobo!
An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery
and thriller genres, Blake loves to hear from
you, so please feel free to visit www.blakepierceauthor.com
to learn more and stay in touch.
Copyright © 2018 by Blake Pierce. All rights
reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S.
Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted
in any form or by any means, or stored in
a database or retrieval system, without the
prior permission of the author. This ebook
is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This ebook may not be re-sold or given away
to other people. If you would like to share
this book with another person, please purchase
an additional copy for each recipient. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase
it, or it was not purchased for your use only,
then please return it and purchase your own
copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work
of this author. This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses, organizations,
places, events, and incidents either are the
product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Jacket image Copyright Coka, used under license
from Shutterstock.com.
BOOKS BY BLAKE PIERCE
THE MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE SERIES
WATCHING (Book #1)
RILEY PAIGE MYSTERY SERIES
ONCE GONE (Book #1)
ONCE TAKEN (Book #2)
ONCE CRAVED (Book #3)
ONCE LURED (Book #4)
ONCE HUNTED (Book #5)
ONCE PINED (Book #6)
ONCE FORSAKEN (Book #7)
ONCE COLD (Book #8)
ONCE STALKED (Book #9)
ONCE LOST (Book #10)
ONCE BURIED (Book #11)
ONCE BOUND (Book #12)
ONCE TRAPPED (Book #13)
MACKENZIE WHITE MYSTERY SERIES
BEFORE HE KILLS (Book #1)
BEFORE HE SEES (Book #2)
BEFORE HE COVETS (Book #3)
BEFORE HE TAKES (Book #4)
BEFORE HE NEEDS (Book #5)
BEFORE HE FEELS (Book #6)
BEFORE HE SINS (Book #7)
BEFORE HE HUNTS (Book #8)
BEFORE HE PREYS (Book #9)
AVERY BLACK MYSTERY SERIES
CAUSE TO KILL (Book #1)
CAUSE TO RUN (Book #2)
CAUSE TO HIDE (Book #3)
CAUSE TO FEAR (Book #4)
CAUSE TO SAVE (Book #5)
CAUSE TO DREAD (Book #6)
KERI LOCKE MYSTERY SERIES
A TRACE OF DEATH (Book #1)
A TRACE OF MUDER (Book #2)
A TRACE OF VICE (Book #3)
A TRACE OF CRIME (Book #4)
A TRACE OF HOPE (Book #5)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTERTWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
