Against the Night (18 page)

“Yeah, all right.”

“All right? That means you’re bringing a date?”

“If she can get off work.”

A long pause on the phone. “Great, we’ll see you tomorrow night.” He needed to call Amy. He didn’t know her schedule. Maybe she’d have to work. Hell, maybe she wouldn’t want to go.

He brought up her cell number and pressed the button. “Hey, baby, it’s me.”

“Johnnie?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m in the car. Let me pull over.” She came back on the line a few seconds later. “Hi.”

The warmth in her voice made his chest feel tight.

“I’m glad you called,” she said. “I talked to Peter Brand last night and guess what he told me?”

“What’d he tell you?” He didn’t like her playing detective—especially when it involved some hotshot real estate broker. He’d been down that road once before.

“He said he and Rachael never dated. He said they worked together to raise money for the Dennison Children’s Shelter. I’m headed there now.”

The name rang a bell. He remembered seeing it in the police file, but since Brand’s alibi checked out, he hadn’t pursued it. Maybe it was time. “What’s the address?”

She gave him a number on Franklin.

“All right, I’ll meet you there.” He ended the call before she could argue. This case was getting more and more interesting. A kindergarten teacher/exotic dancer searching for an exotic dancer/social worker. He told himself the case was the reason he was meeting Amy, that he was just doing the job he’d volunteered for.

He stepped on the gas pedal, weaving the car in and out of traffic, driving a little faster than he should have been.

It was just the job, he told himself.

And knew it was a big-ass lie.

Amy pulled back into traffic, heading her little rented subcompact toward the address for the Dennison Children’s Shelter she had written on a cocktail napkin last night.

Her heart was pounding, reminding her that Johnnie would be meeting her there. She told herself he was just following the lead she had picked up last night. That his meeting her there didn’t mean anything. She needed to stay focused on finding Rachael and let the man do his job.

It didn’t take too long to reach the shelter, which was in an actual house, she saw as she pulled up in front of the two-story, Spanish-style building with a red tile roof, the walls painted a soft shade of pink. The yard was neatly trimmed and there was a big leafy tree in front that shaded the porch.

As she headed up the walk, she heard children’s laughter coming from inside. She had almost reached the front steps when the screen door opened and a man walked out. Dressed in an expensive navy blue suit, he was extremely handsome. Johnnie’s detective friend, Rick Vega.

“Detective Vega,” she exclaimed, halting him directly in front of her. Clearly his mind had been on something else and for an instant, he didn’t know who she was.

“Amy Brewer,” she reminded him. “Rachael’s sister.”

“Yes, of course. Hello, Amy.” He flicked a glance toward the house. “What are you doing here?”

“Last night I spoke to a friend of Rachael’s…a real estate agent named Peter Brand. Peter told me she volunteered here at the shelter.”

“Yes, so I discovered.”

“So you talked to them here? I assumed the police would have spoken to them already.”

Vega made no comment, and she realized he was thinking the same thing, but being a policeman himself, couldn’t afford to agree.

“Did you find out anything?” Amy pressed.

“I talked to one of the counselors. Apparently Rachael came here often. Looks like whenever she wasn’t working or trying to get an acting job, she was here. The kids adored her.”

Amy felt a pang in her heart.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her coming up the walk. Amy turned to see Johnnie striding toward her and her stomach floated up beneath her ribs.

His gaze skimmed over her, went to the detective. “You here about Rachael? I didn’t think you were working that case.”

“I’m not. I just ran across a connection between her and the shelter and thought I’d follow up.”

“I really appreciate what you’re doing,” Amy said to him.

Vega just nodded. “I’ve got to go. Good luck in there. Maybe you’ll get something I missed.” Vega strode off down the walkway, and Johnnie turned to Amy.

He didn’t say a word, just slid his hands into her hair, cupped the back of her head, bent and very thoroughly kissed her. She was trembling, her lips tingling, when Johnnie let her go.

He tipped his head toward the house. “We’re here,” he said a little gruffly. “We might as well go in.”

The door stood open to let in the warm June air. Just a screen blocked the entrance. Johnnie rapped on the door frame and a young woman with short blond hair appeared on the opposite side of the screen.

“Hello. May I help you?”

“My name is…Amy Brewer. Rachael Brewer was my sister.” Rachael wasn’t Silky here at the shelter so Amy didn’t need to be Angel. “Peter Brand told me she volunteered here on occasion.”

“Why, yes, she did.”

“I’m John Riggs. I’m a private investigator. I’m helping Amy locate her sister.”

“Please come in.” She opened the screen door and stepped back out of the way. Amy walked in ahead of Johnnie into the foyer. In the living room off to one side, a group of children of various ages huddled around the coffee table playing a game of Candy Land. Amy smiled. She and Rachael used to play that game as kids.

“My name is Eileen Caulfield,” the woman said. She was wearing jeans and a Dennison Shelter T-shirt that read Where There’s Love There’s Hope. “I liked Rachael very much. We all did. Why don’t we go someplace we can talk?”

Eileen led them into the dining room and indicated they should sit down at a long oak table that seated at least twelve people.

“Detective Vega was just here,” Eileen explained. “He spoke to Melinda Richards—she’s the director of the shelter. I’m afraid she’s gone to lunch but maybe I can help.”

“Thank you,” Amy said.

“Peter told us Rachael was missing. We’re all praying for her.”

Amy’s heart squeezed.

“When was the last time Rachael was here?” Johnnie asked.

“Just before the first of May. She couldn’t stay long. She said she had some errands to run. I thought maybe she was trying out for a part or something. She wanted so much to be an actress.”

“She say anything about going on a trip?” Johnnie asked.

“Not then, but earlier. A couple of weeks before that she mentioned she was going to the Caribbean. She seemed really excited about it.”

Johnnie flicked a glance at Amy. Another confirmation that Rachael was planning a trip.

“Did she say exactly where she was going?” Amy asked.

“She might have. If she did, I don’t remember.”

“Could it have been Belize?” Johnnie asked.

The woman frowned, then shook her head. “I don’t know. She did say that she and a friend would be staying in some fancy villa. But that was a week or so earlier. She didn’t mention it after that.”

Amy’s heart was pounding.

“She happen to say who she was going with?” Johnnie asked.

“No, but I think she was dating someone she really liked. She seemed happy, you know? I thought maybe she had met someone really special. Rachael deserved a man like that.”

But she had never told anyone his name. If she was seeing Manny Ortega, a drug dealer’s son, she might not want anyone to know.

“Anything else you can tell us?” Johnnie asked.

“I wish I could. Like I said, she didn’t mention the trip after the first time.”

“We appreciate your help, Eileen.”

They left the house a few minutes later and headed down the concrete path to the street.

“I rented a car,” Amy said. “That little white one over there.”

Johnnie walked her over, waited until she unlocked the car and opened the door.

“Did you talk to Manny Ortega?” she asked.

“I went to his place last night, a restaurant called the Vieux Carre. Manny wasn’t there. He left town yesterday. He’ll be gone for the rest of the week.”

Disappointment slipped through her. “Oh.”

“I’ll talk to him as soon as he gets back. Sooner if I can find him.”

Amy just nodded.

“Listen…I was thinking…wondering…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve got some friends coming to town. I’m going over for dinner tomorrow night, do a little business. I was wondering if you would maybe…ah, like to come with me. I mean, if you can get off work.”

He seemed nervous. She couldn’t believe it. He was always so firmly in control.

She beamed him a smile. “Tuesday’s one of my nights off this week, so yes, I’d love to meet your friends.”

Johnnie looked down at his feet. “It won’t be anything fancy, you know, so you don’t have to dress up or anything.”

“Okay, what time?”

“I’ll pick you up at six. That’ll give us time to get downtown.”

“All right.” She glanced at her watch. She needed to get back to work, but she didn’t really want to leave. “I’d better go.”

“Yeah.”

She started to get into the car but Johnnie turned her into his arms and kissed her, a hot, deep kiss that should have embarrassed her since they were standing right there on the street. Instead, she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Johnnie broke away. The hot gleam in his eyes said he wanted a lot more than kisses.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he said gruffly, then stood back as she got into the car. Her hands were trembling so badly she could barely stick the key into the ignition. She finally got the engine running.

When she looked back out the window, Johnnie was gone.

Sixteen

Rick Vega pulled off Melrose down a lane lined with box hedges and palm trees and stopped at the gatehouse at the entrance to Paramount Studios. The place was impressive. Rick knew a little of the history—everyone did who lived in L.A. Paramount was the oldest running studio, started way back in 1912. Every major actor from Rudolph Valentino and Mae West, Gary Cooper and Elvis, to Mel Gibson and Sean Connery had made movies there.

The guard leaned through the window and Rick flipped open his badge. “I need to talk to Marvin Bixler. He’s the director on the
LAPD Blue
series.”

Information he had received from Melinda Richards at the children’s shelter. According to Melinda, Rachael had interviewed for a part in a new TV series, a takeoff on the old
NYPD Blue
show
.
She had been waiting to hear from the studio when she had disappeared.

He hadn’t thought to give the information to Johnnie, figured his friend would get the news when he talked to the people at the shelter. And Rick wanted to check it out himself.

“They’re shooting in studio twelve,” the guard said, after a quick look at his notes. “It’s around the corner near the back of the lot.” He handed Rick a clipboard. “You’ll need to sign in.”

He printed his name on the appropriate line, noted the date and time and signed his name, then handed the board back to the guard.

“Go on in.”

Rick drove his brown, unmarked Chevy police car toward the back of the lot, parked and went into the big steel building, number twelve, the guard had indicated. It was huge. He figured somewhere around fifteen-thousand square feet of soundstage, with every conceivable sort of staging equipment.

He snagged a guy in the lighting crew, young with short brown hair combed skyward, as the man walked past. Rick held up his badge.

“LAPD. I’m looking for Marvin Bixler.”

“You one of the technical advisors? Marv’s over there—” He pointed across the set. “The bald guy with the mustache.”

“Thanks.” No point in correcting him. Rick wasn’t there to give advice. He just wanted information.

“Mr. Bixler?”

“Yes?”

“LAPD. I need a few minutes of your time.”

“Look, we won’t be needing you for at least a few hours. Why don’t you wait over—”

“I’m not here as an advisor. I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me with a missing persons case.”

The director’s gaze sharpened. “All right, sure, go ahead.”

“I was told a woman named Rachael Brewer tried out for a part in your series. A few days later, she disappeared and no one has seen her since.”

“I heard about that. She was using the name Rachael Summers so I didn’t put it together till I saw her photo in the newspaper. Rachael was a really talented young actress. She was perfect for the role of Heather Stone, one of the female officers in the show, tough but a heart of gold. I felt like I’d made a real find.”

“So Rachael got the part?”

“Would have. No one ever reached her to tell her the news. Then we heard she’d disappeared. Damn shame.”

“Did you interview Rachael yourself?”

He nodded. “She talked to the producer and ran some lines with a couple of the lead actors in the show, as well. We all agreed she was perfect for Heather.”

“You ever meet any of her friends, a man, maybe, or a girlfriend?”

“She interviewed more than once but she always came by herself. She was beautiful. Attracted plenty of male attention, I can tell you.” He shook his head. “Hard lady to replace but we had no choice. We were scheduled to start shooting a few weeks after she disappeared.”

Rick pulled out an LAPD business card and handed it over. “If you think of anything that might help us find her, I’d appreciate a call.”

Bixler read the card then stuffed it into his shirt pocket. “Happy to help if I can.” When someone yelled his name, he started toward a group of actors dressed in blue uniforms standing on the stage.

Rick turned and headed for the door. Beautiful and talented. Generous and caring. This was not the woman in the department’s missing persons file. Those documents portrayed Rachael as a woman on the lowest rung of society, with few friends, most of whom were other exotic dancers. A stripper without much of a future, maybe even a prostitute. Then the whispers began linking her with Manny Ortega and the possibility she had been involved with drugs.

It didn’t make sense.

The next time he saw Johnnie he’d relay the conversation he’d had with Bixler. He figured in some small way Amy would be pleased to know her sister had finally gotten the break she had been working so hard to get.