First to Die (14 page)

"Like what?"

"Busy afternoon, and I'm hitting Main Street tonight and working my way down. I have to keep moving. And, I have to find Billy Randall. He ran off again."

"We can do that together." He narrowed his eyes at me.

"No, we can't. You scare people. I'm not taking you with me. You stick with the M.E's office and all that crime scene shit you're good at. I'll take care of torturing information out of unsuspecting individuals."

"Stay the hell away from the Junkyard. I mean it" What he meant to say was, stay away from the alleys off of Third Street Corridor. Main Street drops you off on the doorstep of dealers and the junkies. I had an inside connection that he didn't like. I'd been rummaging through the heap of shit for years and never had a problem.

"Whatever you say. Will you hand me those files behind you?" His eyes never moved from the opening of my powder blue button-down as he reached around and fumbled for the stack.

"Thank you." I smiled and snatched the files from him like he had something that didn't belong to him. "I'll see ya tomorrow." I grabbed the rest of my things and bolted out the door. His goodbye tailed me to the lobby and I could barely shake it off.

Chapter 20

I
drove down Main Street, trying to figure out how everything had gone right down the toilet in a short period of time. Crazy shit that had no rhyme or reason except for the psychopath that was writing us little love notes. Dead people, scary rhymes, missing dog, runaway kid and a past that was smacking me across the face. Not my kind of party.

I hung a right on Third Street, heading directly for the Junkyard. The opposite of what I’d told Jason. The main drag that got you in and out of Riverview if you were in a hurry. Reserved for junkies and peddlers with their magic bags of rocks, and strings of black pearls. Transportation for anybody with the right amount of cash to another dimension.

My first stop on the list was the Banks Bar, usually full of locals taking shots of mankind's homemade truth serum. It was the perfect interrogation room, and it was better than having a dose of Pentothal running through their veins. If they had any information, they'd be singing louder than the bad tunes on the juke box. It wasn’t a dangerous place if you knew the rules of the game. I wasn't buying their drugs, I was buying their information, and I was looking for someone specific. How and what I was going to give them in return would depend on what they had.

I trolled Banks Bar, looking for anyone willing to talk. The majority avoided eye contact and stared into their drinks. After a few circles around the joint, I settled on a barstool next to an expensive navy suit and a black leather jacket with a skull and crossbones. The crowd was always mixed, and you never knew what you'd find.

It was dark, and the smell of the river mixed with stale beer was enough to send anyone in their right mind in the other direction. Big Al leaned across the thick wooden divide and peered through the slits in his eyes. "The Doctor know you’re here?" His rancid breath almost knocked me off the wobbly stool.

"No, and I don't need his permission." I set my hands on the solid oak rim and pushed myself back from the stench.

"You know he doesn't want you around here." He frantically wiped the counter like he was removing any trace of me. "Do us all a favor and go back to where you came from, please." I could see the beads of sweat forming along his receding hairline.

"I don't care what he wants,” I said. “He lost any right to give a shit about where I go and what I do, a long time ago."

"He had his reasons for leaving," He said, nervously wiping the thick layer of wood that was keeping me from his safe zone.

"You don't know the half of it." I pushed my seat back. "Is he here?" His loft was through the kitchen and up the back steps. I wasn't moving.

"I wouldn't tell you if he was." He gave another bottle of beer to the leather jacket next to me. "Every time you come nosing around, something bad happens to somebody, and it’s usually me." He rubbed the towel across the next wave of sweat that was rolling in. "I'm not even supposed to be talking to you."

"How's that working for you?” I grinned. “You haven't stopped running your mouth since I sat down, and all I wanted to know was where my brother was.

"Still a bitch," he said.

"And that's what always gets you into trouble. Your mouth is always running, and it's never anything nice." I looked up at the camera in the corner of the bar. "He would have been down here as soon as he saw me walking in the door." I tossed a five dollar bill on the counter. "I know where he's at. Thanks for the entertainment."

It wasn't hard to find Ben if I needed him. He had his hand in anything that produced the highest return on his investment. Sex, drugs, alcohol, and gambling. His two biggest money makers were Banks Bar and Allure Strip Club. If he wasn't sitting on top on Banks watching his monitors, he was in the back room at the Allure, counting his cash.

I left on foot, hit Third Street, and headed for the Canal Street alley. I pounded on a rusted steel door at the back of the club. The peep hole opened and a set of glowing brown eyes stared at me.

"Aw, man" His eyes bulged out of the little frame. "Girl, what are you doing down here?" the voice yelled through the hole in the door.

"I need to see Ben." I reached over and felt for my gun.

"Now, you know he's not gonna be happy to see you." His face was scrunched up like he was sucking on a sourball.

"Get him," I yelled, and stepped back from the door.

"Shit. Wait here." The tiny cut-out door slammed, and I was left standing in the dark.

Ben opened the door and stepped out. "You don't listen very well." The sound of the metal hitting the jam alerted me of his current mood.

If he had been a real doctor, I imagined that Ben would fit the description. Tall and handsome, chiseled features, nice clothes and a pair of black-rimmed glasses that made him look smart. He was a long way from the other side of town, and the new jagged scar along his right cheekbone threw off the last image that I’d had of him.

"How are you?" It had been almost a year since I last saw him, and I was excited to see his face. "You look good." I reached out my arms to hug him and he stepped back, out of my reach.

"You shouldn't be here," he said in a stern voice.

"I know, but you haven't returned any of my calls." I rubbed my face in my hands. "I need your help."

"I don't have time for your police shit." His eyes rolled around, looking for stragglers. "You by yourself?" He cupped his hands around a cigarette to block the wind while he tried to light it.

"Yes." There would be no talking if Jason or anyone else was with me. It was safe to say that they hated each other. Ben hated Jason for reasons unknown and Jason hated Ben for deserting me when Dad decided to put a bullet in his head.

"What do you need?" I felt like one of his customers from the chill of his icy voice. My big brother wasn't happy to see me.

"Do you know anything about the two girls that were murdered?"

"Are you kidding me?" His words sliced through the tension. Ben was a doctor in every sense of the word, but there was no license for his illegal practices. He fixed things. He fixed people. He fixed everything that was apparently broken in the Junkyard. I didn't know what the hell he did besides bar and night club owner. Whatever it was, it wasn't good, but he always seemed to keep himself out of jail. He’d pushed me out of his life for good reason. It was better for the both of us if I wasn't around. Better if I stayed away.

"Ben, please"

"You're looking in the wrong place." The end of his cigarette lit up like a torch and flickered in the wind as he inhaled.

"What do you mean?" My mind was spinning around.

"Somebody in your circle, not mine." He reached up and pinched the bridge between his bark blue eyes. "That's all I know."

I automatically stepped back from the punch that had come my way. "A cop? Who?" I pressed on the knot that was tightening on my left side.

"I said your circle, somebody local." He flicked his cigarette off to the side. "He's not from this side of town, so don't waste your time looking here."

"How can you be so sure?" I let the air sputter past my lips.

"There's isn't much that goes on over here that I don't know about. You already know that. If it was a piece of shit from here, he wouldn't have made it to number two. That simple."

"Mom had a friend named Louise Harper. Do you remember her?"

"I remember her. Why?" The night air danced around the flame of his little silver lighter. He lit another cigarette, and filled the alley with smoke.

"She was murdered before Mom left, and I think Harper is connected to the new cases somehow."

"I remember Dad ranting about that for years. Spent every night in his office organizing and collecting evidence. He had a big file, but I don't know what the hell happened to it." He took another drag off the stick. "Probably tucked away, so no one can find it." He laughed "You know how he was."

"Too well," I said.

"You should be more worried about Bill Randall."

"I always have my eye on that mongrel. You think it's him?"

"Not sure, but he's been hanging around here the past few days, running his mouth about some special assignment that he had, and flashing around a lot of cash.

"He hasn't had a steady job in years," I said.

"Exactly."

"Maybe you should quit this glamorous life and come back to my side of town."

"I like where I'm at just fine." He put his hands in his pockets and backed up toward the door.

"Wait," I yelled to him.

"I pulled out a picture of Billy and handed it to him. "Have you seen Bill's kid?"

"Yeah, on the Ivy Knox Variety Show." He grinned and flipped it around like he didn't give a shit.

"He's missing. I have to find him."

"I don't wander the streets looking for strays. People come here when they want something. They get it, and if they're smart, they get the fuck out of here and never look back."

"He's running scared." I was pleading with him to give me anything to find him.

"Sam, I haven't seen him, but it doesn't mean he won't show up tomorrow." Ben never lied, and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew nothing about Billy.

"Ben, somebody took Max," I blurted out and felt my eyes start to well up.

"Jesus, Sam, when? Where?" he said, raising his voice.

"The house, in the middle of the night." The thought of it still frightened me.

"Someone was in the house?" I could see the anger in his eyes.

"No, I'm not sure. I don't know what happened." I wiped my eyes.

"I'm sorry, but why do you still live there after what happened? There's no reason for you to be there."

"It's the only home that I know." I reached over and touched his cheek "I miss you." I didn't know what else to say. I felt that I didn't know him anymore. "I love you, Ben."

"Sam, I love you, too." His face was smoother now and more relaxed. "Please stay away from here. It puts both of us in a bad position.

"No problem," I said, holding back another wave of tears. "That’s why I came alone." The weight crushed my chest. "I didn't tell anyone that I was coming here." I rattled on. "I..." He cut me off.

"Where's your car?"

"Over at Banks."

"That’s two blocks from here. What’s the matter with you?"

"Nothing. Nobody’s going to touch me down here, and your little scare tactics are not going to work."

"Jimmy will give you a ride back," he said as he disappeared behind the steel door.

No goodbye. No nothing. He was gone, and I wasn't sure if I would see him again.

I drove back to his illusion of safety. It wasn't safe. At this point, I'd rather hang with the pimps and hookers. Ben had made his choice, and I’d made mine. There was no meeting in the middle. He gave dad a hell of a time, busting around town and making a mess of things. He reminded me of Billy Randall. Maybe that's why I liked Billy so much. I recognized that dark evil path that he was traveling and maybe I could save him.

Chapter 21

N
eville was losing his edge, or I was getting sharper. I wasn't sure at this point in the game. Stakeouts generally require a good hiding place, not the front bumper of your vehicle sticking out from behind a bush. Busted. I inched up my driveway and wondered what was worse, being shooed away like a pesky insect or being slammed with a fly swatter? Neville was waiting for me to land so he'd have a good aim. I pulled in next to him so our driver’s side doors were almost kissing.

"Where ya been?" His eyes narrowed. I couldn't tell if he was a setting me up.

"Classified,” I said, with a stone face.

"I could torture it out of you."

"You being here is torture enough." I smiled. "Any sign of Max?"

"No, I'm sorry." He curled his bottom lip down. "You’re evading the question."

"I learned it from you."

"I knew you'd use it against me one of these days.” He puffed on his cigarette and laughed. "I taught you well. What were you looking for?"