Hollywood Prisoner: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller (29 page)

We quickly moved into the room, working on the pillory to free the girl. She had been badly beaten, her body covered with numerous cuts and sores. We had just moved the heavy beam up, releasing her, when the door slammed shut on us.

“It has to be Compton,” I said.

The injured girl slumped onto the floor as Ross moved back over to the door. He swung it open, his light washing over the main portion of the basement. Then it stopped and held on the man I knew had to be Wade Compton.

For a moment, I was so stunned and horrified by the image in front of us that I was frozen in place. Compton was nude. There were dozens of scars covering his body, probably made by a hot poker. As my eyes held on his face, I had a visceral reaction, instinctively taking a step back. The face of the monster in front of us was streaked in hues of red and black, like something out of a horror movie.

I had the impression that Ross saw Compton’s hand move at the same time I did, but his reaction wasn’t quick enough. The raging monster in front of us swung a knife up, releasing it, and impaling it in Ross’s chest.

I didn’t hesitate, bringing my service revolver up and aiming for central body mass. I unloaded my weapon, watching as the man his wife described as being possessed stumbled back with each round that hit him, before collapsing on the ground.

I went over, making sure that Compton was dead, then checked on Ross. “You okay?”

He was holding a hand over his chest, a red stain spreading across his shirt. “I’m not sure.”

I took a moment, checking on the girl, before making a call that I knew would bring every law enforcement officer hearing the call to our location.

“Code three. Officer needs help.”

“I’d call it a bad case of bragging rights,” I said to Ross three hours later, referencing the bandages around his chest.

We were in a hospital emergency room. My temporary partner was lucky. The knife had barely missed an artery. The doctors had said that, with some stiches and a couple weeks of down time, he would be as good as new.

Gloria Landry, the girl we found in Compton’s basement, also survived, but would likely need months, if not years, to recover from the torture inflicted on her. I planned to send her flowers before leaving the hospital.

Ross smiled. “Not sure about bragging. I’d say there’s a payback coming.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You saved my life. You have a payback coming your way.”

“You don’t owe me anything, but thanks. You helped me stop a mad man who we think was responsible for almost a dozen murders.”

“What did Compton’s wife have to say?”

I took a moment, explaining that Susan Compton had said her husband believed he was possessed by an evil spirit. When he would go on what she called hunting sprees, the spirit would take over, causing him to transform into the monster we’d seen. She admitted helping him find his victims, but otherwise said she had no involvement in the killings.

“Compton’s wife said she’s glad her husband is dead,” I added. “She’s willing to show us where the bodies are buried.”

“She’s an accessory to murder.”

I agreed with him. “If I have any say in the matter, she’ll never see her freedom again.”

The nurse came in and took his blood pressure. When she was gone, I said, “I’d better hit the road. It’s been a long day, and I’m wiped out.”

“What about that payback I promised?”

I smiled, knowing that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “What to do you have in mind, dinner at the Taft Café?”

He chuckled. “I can do better than that. You ever been to Ojai?”

The name was vaguely familiar. “A little town somewhere in the foothills?”

“It’s down the hill from Taft and a couple of hours from Hollywood, a beautiful place. We could have lunch there, take a walk, and see the sights.” His smile came back. “Just a payback, as friends. No strings.”

I headed for the door. “Get some rest. See you in Ojai when you feel better.”

I was in the elevator, deciding that Ross’s idea of a payback wasn’t such a bad thing after all, when I realized that Gloria Landry had been transported to the same hospital. I couldn’t imagine what she must be going through, trying to recover from the monster who had held her captive and attacked her. When I got downstairs, I stopped at the admitting desk, where I showed my credentials and asked about her.

“She’s on the seventh floor,” the clerk said. “She’s not allowed visitors, but since you’re with law enforcement, they might make an exception.”

I made my way back upstairs, where I stopped at the nurse’s station and pled my case.

“She’s got a broken arm and numerous soft tissue injuries,” the nurse told me. “Her parents are on their way, but I don’t see any reason you can’t spend a few minutes with her.”

I thanked her and, a couple minutes later, found Gloria in a private room. I softly called out to her, but didn’t get a response. I thought she was asleep and turned to leave when I heard her voice.

“I’m awake.”

I made my way over to her bed and saw that her arm was in a cast. She was a pretty girl who I knew, from asking some questions before she was transported, was just seventeen. She looked small and vulnerable in the hospital bed.

“I don’t know if you remember me,” I said.

“You...you’re the one...the one who saved me.”

I smiled. “I had some help. How are you doing?”

Her brown eyes shifted, moving away from me. “I’m not sure. I feel...” I saw the stream of tears on her face. Her voice came back, just above a whisper. “He raped me.”

My eyes misted over as I reached out and took her hand. “I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

Her beautiful brown eyes found me again and flooded with tears. “I was...he stole my...” She choked up and didn’t go on.

I gave her a moment, wishing there was some way I could turn back time, reverse the horrors that had been visited upon her.

When she spoke again, her voice was soft, barely audible. “My parents...how do I tell them?”

I took a breath, pushing down my own emotions, and trying to find words to offer some form of consolation. Then I remembered my conversation with Francesca and I knew what to say. “Gloria, I want you to listen to me carefully. What happened to you...it wasn’t your fault.”

“But I was stupid. The man...he...he lied to me. He said his wife was sick and he needed my help.” A steady stream of tears was on her cheeks. “He hit me and put me in his car. I should have known better.” Her emotions were on overload as she said, “I’ll never be the same.”

I squeezed her hand and gave her a moment. “Gloria, you can’t ever change what happened to you, but you can, in time, change the way you look at it.”

“What...how do I do that?”

“Sometimes bad things happen in our lives, things that we have no control over. We can let that define us or we can choose another path. We can, in time, begin to move away from that pain and regain our strength and power. You, my dear, are a beautiful, intelligent, strong young woman, with a wonderful life still ahead of you. You can begin to embrace that, and reclaim the power and goodness that is yours alone.”

“But my mom and dad...how do I...”

“You tell them with all the emotion, grace, and honesty that you possess. You hold nothing back, but you also tell them of your commitment to eventually begin to heal and move on with your life. You tell them that, in time, you will get past this.”

There were more tears, more questions, and a lot more that I had to tell her. I spent the better part of an hour telling her about my life, how I lost my father as a child, and that I’d mistakenly let that define my life. I also told her that I was finally learning to reclaim my own power, and that she could do the same. It felt as though I had waited my whole life to tell this wonderful girl my own story and that she would, in time, get past what happened. It even occurred to me that everything I had suffered in my own life had prepared me for this moment.

We shared lots of tears and hugs before I told her it was time for me to go. After thanking me, Gloria reached out and took my hand. “Can I...I talk to you again, if I need help?”

“Of course.” I found my card in my purse and placed in on the table. “I’m available any time, day or night. Don’t ever hesitate to call. We’re survivors, Gloria, and that is an unbroken bond between us.”

As I left Gloria’s room and took the elevator downstairs, I realized there were tears on my cheeks, because I’d learned something during my conversation with her. I now understood that as women, we have a special responsibility to nurture one another. A light can shine in the darkest night, and I knew it was my responsibility as a woman to do everything I could in my life to be a force that honored that path.

When I got home, I was contacted by the department’s FID, or Force Investigation Division. I was told that, even though the shooting of Wade Compton had occurred in another jurisdiction, they would be conducting their own internal review. I learned that investigation would include me being placed on administrative leave with pay, standard procedure for officer involved shootings. I said I had no problem with the investigation or the mandatory suspension, because I knew I had acted within policy. 

Since I was now officially on leave, I slept in late the next morning. I didn’t wake up until I heard voices outside my window. I pulled up the blinds and saw Nana and my friends staring at me like three fish in an aquarium.

“Go away,” I groaned.

“We will, as long as you go away with us,” Nana said, fixing her gray eyes on me through the glass.

“Go away where?”

“I have my appointment with Dr. Theodore today. I’m getting the Athena Ultra.”

“And we’re her SharkMamas,” Natalie said. “We’re gonna make sure she gets put in his makeover machine.”

“You gotta help us out,” Mo added. “Dr. T might take one look at Nana and decide she’s hopeless.”

“I’m not hopeless,” Nana said. “And you’re all going to be jealous when you see the new me.”

After a ten-minute discussion, more aptly called an argument, I gave up. I took a few minutes to pull myself together, then rode with Natalie and Mo to Beverly Hills, while Nana followed us in her chauffeur driven Rolls.

“Heard you were a little busy yesterday,” Natalie said, looking back at me from the passenger seat, as the wind swirled around us in Mo’s big convertible.

“You shoulda taken us with you,” Mo said from the driver’s seat, her green wig hair flying in the breeze. “We coulda helped you put the big hurt on that bastard.”

“I had some help from a sheriff’s detective named Ross Adams. I’m just glad the guy’s off the streets for good.”

Natalie smiled. “That relationship expert, Francesca, sure knows her stuff. You two gonna get a leg over?”

“We’re just friends, and I’m keeping my legs together, thank you.”

Mo shook her green head. “Don’t you know you gotta use what God gave you, or it will dry up and blow away?”

“Hey, there goes Kate’s vagina,” Natalie said, laughing and pointing down the road. “Careful, Mo. Don’t hit the dead pussy.”

“You two should be comedians,” I told them. I then said to Natalie, “Speaking of private parts, any progress on lining up that nerd you told Francesca you were looking for?”

“Already got him on the hook and reeled in, since he kicked Georgette to the curb.”

My mouth fell open in disbelief. Georgette was Natalie’s ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend, or now apparently his ex-girlfriend. “Don’t tell me. You’re getting back together with Tex?”

“You got it. Me and me nerdy ex are an item again. I think it’s fate.”

“I think baby sis is outta her mind,” Mo said.

Natalie’s ex had an IQ that approached Einstein-like proportions, but he didn’t have an iota of common sense, something that he demonstrated on a regular basis. Even Mo had trouble tolerating him.

Natalie went on. “I always had me a thing for them brainy ones. Tex thinks he can also boost up me brain power.”

“How’s he going to do that?”

“You ever heard of sex aerobics?”

I groaned. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”

She went on anyway. “Tex has himself a theory that if you engage in vigorous sexual activity after doing something that requires usin’ your noggin, you’ll increase your IQ by twenty points a crack.”

Mo looked over at her and deadpanned, “If that was the case, I should be as smart and rich as Oprah by now.”

“You just need more time in the sack,” Natalie said. “You better tell Larry you need two-a-days.”

“Two-a-days,” Mo said, apparently unsettled by the thought of that much time in bed with her boyfriend. “How ‘bout two a week?”

They went on, talking about multiple orgasms and brain power, until we finally arrived in Beverly Hills. We were turning onto Rodeo Drive when Mo commented on a man who had a table set up in front of one of the stores. “Betcha he’s one of them Tauist recruiters, lookin’ for converts.”

Natalie agreed. “He looks like he’s got a degree in brainwashin’.”

They held nothing back, disparaging the man and the Tauists before I asked them if they’d heard anything about Harlee Ryland.

Mo looked at me in the mirror. “You sure you wanna know?”

I sighed, fearing the worst. “What is it?”

“Word has it that Ryland woman’s gone underground for the Umbra Celebration.”

“The what?”

“It’s some kinda crazy retreat they go on every couple of years and plan what kind of trouble they can stir up. I heard she took that idiot actor Brett Denver with her.”

“Where’s the retreat being held?”

“Somewhere in the desert, in the middle of nowhere. Maybe they’ll stay outta your hair for a while.”

I did my best to put what she’d said out of my mind, wondering if I would always be watching my back, wondering if Harlee Ryland and the Tauists would be coming for me.

Dr. Theodore’s Institute for Body Rejuvenation, or IBR, was located a block from Rodeo Drive. The building looked more like an upscale hotel than medical offices, with flowing fountains, gardens, and even valet parking.

After checking in with a receptionist, we were met by Dr. Theodore himself. The plastic surgeon had silver hair and looked to be around sixty, but was trying hard to look younger. He had one of those hard, waxy faces that I’d seen in Hollywood, the result of an overload of Botox and fillers. The doctor gave us a guided tour of his office, which contained a series of surgical suites he called his
Makeover Machine
.

Theodore provided commentary as he showed us around. “The IBR employs the most skilled physicians and state-of-the-art technologies in surgical procedures and equipment.” He looked at Nana. “Your stay here will feel more like a retreat at a luxurious spa than being in the hospital.”

Nana scowled at him. “I wanna see what my new face and body is gonna look like. Where’s the Athena Ultra?”

The doctor waved his hand, and we followed him into an adjacent room. “The Athena is only one of several choices we have. As you can see, there are over a dozen different prototypes.” He stopped and beamed a smile at Nana. “Welcome to your new life.”

We spent a few minutes walking around the life-sized replicas that Dr. Theodore claimed were the epitome of natural beauty. The figures reminded me of the wax museum on Hollywood Boulevard. They were so real that it was a little unsettling.

Mo stopped in front of one of the mannequins, a blonde model with voluptuous breasts and a tiny waist. She said to me, “You ask me, this is wrong.” She looked at the doctor. “What you got here is a bunch of dolls. No real woman looks like these things.”

Natalie agreed with her. “They’re nuthin’ but a bunch of Barbies.” She looked at Nana. “You can’t do this.”

Nana pushed her dentures halfway out of her mouth, a sure sign that she was unhappy. “You’re right.” She looked at the doctor. “None of these will do. I want to look like a real woman.”

Dr. Theodore seemed genuinely perplexed. “What do you have in mind?”

Nana took a moment, again perusing the models. She finally said, “I need something with a big booty.” She looked at the doctor. “You got any derriere models? I’ve been thinking I need a rump that will cause a big rumpus.”

Mo came over to her. “The last thing a woman your age needs is a giant rear end.” She slapped a butt cheek. “Me, on the other hand, I gotta have a motor in my boat so it will steer right.”

Nana ignored her advice and looked at Dr. Theodore. “While you’re fixing my rear end, you might also want to see what you can do with Kate. It looks like her motor fell off and she’s running on one cylinder.”

After going back and forth about the merits of a big derriere, Dr. Theodore assured Nana that he would make her rear end, along with the rest of her, a thing of unequalled beauty.

“I think I’m going to call my new figure the Mona Lisa,” Nana said. “I’ll be a full-figured, large breasted, big-butted woman with a mysterious smile.” She made an attempt to emulate the smile of the woman in the famous painting.

Mo nudged me. “She looks like she’s gonna cut a giant fart.”

“If you’re ready,” Dr. Theodore said, taking Nana’s arm. “Please come with me so that we can find the new you. It’s time to enter my
Makeover Machine
.”

Nana looked back at us as she walked away with her plastic surgeon. “Don’t worry, I’ll still put my bra on one boob at a time, and I’ll still be the same sweet, wonderful woman you’ve always known—only hotter than you three nitwits put together.”

Natalie looked at Mo and me. “I think we better go. I just ralphed in me bloody mouth.”