Let Me Go (3 page)

“You changed your hair,” Henry said.

“Don't talk to me,” Susan said.

A new song started, and another mostly naked girl climbed up on the stage and started wiggling. Susan took a sip of Archie's abandoned beer. She didn't know what it was, but it tasted terrible.

 

CHAPTER

4

 

Leo led Archie
and the dancer into one of the club's private rooms. It was the size of a walk-in closet with a built-in bench on all sides, and mirrored paneling custom-fitted to the walls and ceiling. The effect was disorienting—Archie's reflection stared back at him from every surface. The dancer took his hand and he allowed her to guide him to the bench and sit him down. Leo grinned and took a seat next to him on the bench. Then Leo poured some of the Glenlivet he'd acquired as they had passed the bar into two glasses and handed one to Archie. There was a brass pole at the center of the room. Electronic dance music played through speakers that Archie couldn't see. The dancer leaned forward and blinked at Archie with her heavily made-up eyes. Her breasts swung. Her chest was beaded with sweat. She was wearing devil horns. “Happy birthday,” she said in a breathy voice.

“Thanks,” Archie said. “But it's actually not until tomorrow.” He looked over at Leo, who was already topping off his drink. “I don't really want a lap dance,” Archie said.

Leo reached his arm out and turned a dial on the wall and the music lowered to a tolerable background beat. Then he settled casually back onto the bench, the glass of whiskey resting on his thigh. His eyes moved to the dancer. “There's a camera,” Leo said under his breath. He took a sip of whiskey and glanced at the far corner of the ceiling. “They can't hear us. But they can see us.” His gaze flicked over to Archie. “What's going on?”

The dancer stepped back and reached for the pole. As soon as her fingers found it, she dropped into a spin, her body moving effortlessly around the pole, legs crossed at the ankles, her feet wedged into five-inch high heels. Her face was blank, her eyes focused on the middle distance. Archie hesitated.

“She's okay,” Leo said. “She's a friend.”

“You can't trust people just because you've slept with them,” Archie said.

“I didn't say I trusted her,” Leo said. He took a sip of whiskey and smiled. “I said she wouldn't say anything.”

The dancer continued to twirl around the pole, her hair grazing the floor. Her black thong matched the color of her shoes.

“Carl Richmond was killed tonight,” Archie said in a low voice. “Someone shot him in the head in the bathroom at the Gold Dust Meridian. Happened about two hours ago.”

Leo nodded. He didn't say anything, but Archie saw the corners of his mouth tighten. Carl had recruited Leo. He'd trained him, and mentored him. He had been, for years, Leo's only lifeline to his alternate identity.

“You okay?” Archie asked.

Leo finished off the remaining whiskey in his glass in one swallow, his eyes on the camera. “They know someone's inside,” he said. “I don't know if they think it's me. But they know enough to be paying attention.”

“So get out of there,” Archie said. “Come with me right now. Walk away.”

“I've been doing this for ten years,” Leo said. “It's not an assignment. It's my life.”

“They'll kill you,” Archie said. Leo had always been in danger, but if they were actively onto him, he was in serious jeopardy. And if Leo got himself killed, Archie knew that Susan would never forgive him. “Your father will kill you if he finds out who you are,” Archie said. “You know that, right?”

“I'm close,” Leo said. There was a gravity in his eyes that Archie had never seen before. “Richmond was right. About corruption. But my father isn't just paying people off. He has partners, Archie. People high up in law enforcement.”

It was what Richmond had always suspected—the reason why Jack Reynolds's shipments always made it through. If it was true, and Leo could identify the corrupt officials involved, it would be a game-changer. This was why Richmond had been willing to risk so much. “And you can get names?” Archie asked.

“He's grooming me,” Leo said. “It's a family business. He wants his kid to run the store. The man is loath to give anything up. But he knows he has to.”

“What kind of law enforcement?” Archie asked.

Leo poured more whiskey in his glass. “I don't know.”

“DEA?” If Jack had someone in the DEA, Leo was in even greater danger. Richmond had protected him as a source all these years. But with Richmond dead, Leo would get a new contact.

Leo chuckled and lifted the glass to his mouth. “Probably,” he said. “Richmond worried about that. He always told me that if anything ever happened to him, to assume DEA was compromised. He said the Bureau would step in. They've been running their own investigation, but they don't have anyone inside.”

There were only a handful of people who knew Leo was working against his father. If the FBI was taking over, Archie knew there was only one person Richmond would have trusted to run the operation.

Leo lifted an eyebrow. “You know who my new contact is, don't you,” he said.

Someone banged on the door. Archie and Leo barely had a chance to exchange a glance before the person on the other side pushed the door open a crack. “Leo?” a gruff voice called through the opening. Leo signaled the dancer with his hand and she spun off the pole and moved in front of Archie just as a man pushed through the door. Archie kept his eyes on the dancer in front of him, but he could see the man's reflection in the mirrored walls. He was tall and broad, with a face that had seen too many fists up close. Scar tissue had left his flesh lumpy and his features lopsided. His cheekbones and nose looked like they had been broken and reset more than once by someone who had no future in otolaryngology. His hair was a thick graying tangle that hung in wisps against his shoulders. His upper arms were the size of Archie's thighs. No, Archie thought. Bigger. The dancer rotated her hips in low slow circles, her eyes leveled at Archie. Archie swallowed hard.

The man took in the scene with barely a flicker of eyeball movement, and Archie had the feeling that he'd been watching on a monitor somewhere, and that he knew exactly what he'd find.

“What are you doing?” the man asked Leo.

“Celebrating with a friend,” Leo said, lifting his glass. “Are you following me, Cooper?”

“He's a cop,” Cooper said with an almost imperceptible nod in Archie's direction.

The dancer was still writhing in front of Archie. She traced her fingers around her nipples and moaned.

“He's a family friend,” Leo said. “My sister, as you may recall, was murdered by Gretchen Lowell.” Archie had scooted back on the bench as far as he could go. The dancer was caressing her abdomen with her hands. Leo chuckled. “This is Archie Sheridan.”

“Nice to meet you,” Archie said.

Cooper grinned at Archie from every mirrored surface in the room. His teeth were stained gray from old fillings. “The hero cop,” Cooper said. He crossed the room in four steps and stood with his arms crossed, behind the dancer, who appeared not to have noticed that Cooper had entered the room, or was pretending that she hadn't. “I know who you are,” Cooper said. He regarded Archie with head-cocked suspicion. The dancer ran one of her hands along her inner thigh. Cooper sat down on the other side of Leo. The bench shook. “He almost gets himself killed going after your sister's killer,” Cooper said to Leo, “and all you get him is a lap dance?”

“You're right,” Leo said. Archie glanced over at Leo as Leo poured himself another drink and lifted it to his mouth. Then Leo turned to Archie and said casually, “You can fuck her, if you want to.”

Archie coughed. The dancer kept moving her hips. The star inked over her pelvic bone was black, about the size of a nickel. “Maybe I'll play that by ear,” Archie said.

The conviviality left Cooper's face. “What's your problem?” he said. He leaned forward, toward the dancer. “Is he hard?” Cooper asked her.

Her expression didn't shift. For a moment Archie hoped she hadn't registered the question. Then she squatted in front of him and pushed his knees apart. Archie glanced at Leo for help, and got only a faint shrug. Cooper reached under his jacket and made a movement like he was unsnapping a shoulder holster. The dancer slid her hands slowly up Archie's thighs. Her eyes were still fixed on his, that dead stare, both seeing and not seeing, and Archie let himself look back. Her mouth was open a little, her head between his knees. She licked her bottom lip and arched her back a little so that her breasts lifted. She let her fingers dance over his zipper. She smiled at what she found.

“So is he a eunuch, or what?” Cooper asked.

“He's hard,” she said. Her thick lashes fluttered in Cooper's direction. “Want to feel?”

Cooper stood up, and for a moment Archie thought he was going to take her up on the offer. But Cooper just stood looking at Archie. “So fuck him,” Cooper said.

The dancer glanced at Leo.

“Wait,” Archie said.

“Do you want to get off or not?” Cooper asked.

Archie grasped for something to say, some way to get out of this without compromising Leo. The dancer was still between his legs, a hand on each of his thighs. “I'm a little drunk,” he said.

“Maybe he wants some privacy,” Leo said. “Turn off the camera.”

Cooper's eyes went to the corner of the ceiling. Then back to Archie. The room refracted all of their faces. Cooper. Leo. Archie. The dancer. It made Archie dizzy.

Cooper studied Archie for another minute and then seemed to make a decision about him. He reached into his pants pocket, got out a clip of cash, peeled off three hundred-dollar bills and laid them on the bench between Archie and Leo.

“It's on me,” Cooper said. Then he pointed at Leo. “Walk with me,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Leo gave Archie a weary look. “Have fun,” he said.

The dancer climbed back to her feet, tucked herself between Archie's open legs, and began rocking back and forth against his groin. Archie was going to kill Leo for this. “Thanks,” Archie said.

The door closed behind Cooper and Leo, and Archie was left in the mirrored room with the girl. The rocking turned into slow circles. Archie could feel his face flush.

“What's your name?” Archie asked.

“Star,” she said.

“Will we know when the camera's off?”

“You'll see the red light go out,” she said.

“Okay,” Archie said. He kept his eyes fixed on the camera. “We'll just play along a little longer.”

She had lifted herself off of him now, but only by centimeters. Her elbows were above her head, her hands holding her dark hair up. He could see the sides of her breasts as they swung while she writhed. The edges of his vision were going black. He tried to think of something else besides the nearly nude girl with her ass in his lap. But he couldn't avoid it. He saw her in every surface, every angle of her.

“Touch me,” she said.

A trickle of sweat crawled down Archie's neck. “I'm okay, thanks,” he said.

“Guys don't just sit there,” she said. “Put your hands on my hips.”

Archie studied the camera. He had no doubt they were being watched. Probably by Cooper. Archie lifted his hands from where he had been gripping the bench and placed them on the curve of Star's hips. His palms were damp. His fingers grazed the waist of her thong.

“You haven't done this before, have you?” she asked.

Her shoulder blades seemed to crawl under her skin; her spine undulated. Strands of her loose hair feathered against his face. “Not really,” Archie said.

The camera's light went off. Archie exhaled and lifted his hands from her body. “It's off,” he said.

Star climbed off of him and sat down on the bench at his side. She had instantly transformed. The parted lips, the heavy eyelids, the blank expression—all vanished. With a natural expression, her features looked different. She looked younger. She lifted a foot up and started unbuckling a shoe. “My feet are killing me,” she said.

Archie's groin throbbed.

He looked at his watch. They needed to stay in here long enough to sell it.

“How long does this usually take?” he asked her.

“With someone like you?” she said with a smile. “Not long.”

 

CHAPTER

5

 

It was Saturday
morning and Archie had retrieved his newspaper and was sitting in his living room reading it over a cup of coffee. Ginger was stretched out on her side on the floor, her foxlike head resting on Archie's bare foot. Every so often she lifted it and looked at him with her plaintive brown corgi eyes and then, when she wasn't invited up onto the couch, exhaled loudly and lowered her chin back on his foot.

Richmond's death was on the inside page of the Metro section. He was described as the owner of a pawnshop and his death by gunshot was characterized as possibly drug-related. The entire incident had warranted one paragraph of coverage. No photo. This was good. Archie leafed through the rest of the paper. The quality of the
Herald
had gone downhill since Susan had been fired, but he hadn't gotten around to canceling his subscription. These days, most of the front section was dedicated to the manhunt for Gretchen Lowell. It had been ten weeks since she'd escaped the state mental hospital, and she was probably halfway around the world, but the breathless stories continued at a frantic pace. The Beauty Killer industry was back in full force. The Dead Body Bus Tour. The T-shirts. Salons had started offering Beauty Killer manicures again. At least some people were happy that she was at large. Portland's cottage industry around the Beauty Killer dropped off considerably when she was locked up. Now they seemed to be making up for lost time. And with Halloween just two days away, it would only get worse.