Merciless (12 page)

Angie’s heart softened when she saw the two. It kind of gave her hope that people could find love, a fact she’d seriously doubted after her relationship with The Worm, a.k.a. Connor Donovan.

A man settled next to her, and the wide breadth of his shoulders coupled with a familiar scent identified him immediately. Her insides tightened.

“Detective Kier.”

He plucked a French fry from her plate. “Counselor. I hear your kind doesn’t eat real food.”

“My kind?”

“Vampires. I thought you just consumed blood.”

Carefully, she laid her napkin in her lap and picked up her fork. “Sometimes it’s just easier to order a sandwich than scramble for a pint.”

“I heard the politically correct term for vampires was ‘children of the night.’That right?”

“Since when have you ever worried about political correctness?”

“Since never.” He watched Eva and Garrison walk away. “I was just trying to be nice for Eva’s sake.”

“Don’t change your ways on my account, Detective. I’d hate to overtax you.”

She spared him a glance this time. Dark stubble now covered his square jaw, giving him a rugged-mountain-man kind of vibe that was not wholly unattractive. He still wore the same clothes he had on this morning when he’d visited her at the gym, which told her he and Garrison had been going nonstop. That was standard procedure in a murder case, which were more likely solved in the first forty-eight hours when leads were the hottest.

She pushed the food around her plate but didn’t take a bite.

Eva sat burgers in front of Malcolm and Garrison, who had rejoined them. The men ate immediately. No doubt they’d not had time for much food today, and this meal would have to hold them for some time.

Her salmon cakes arrived, and for several minutes the three ate in silence as Eva served other clients at the bar, tallied bills from other waitresses, and restocked glasses. When Garrison had finished he excused himself and found Eva.

Angie’s thoughts turned to Sierra and the dozens of fruitless calls she’d made today on the woman’s behalf. “Did you ever get an identification on your murder victim? Was it Sierra?”

“Funny you should bring that up.” Kier carefully set down his burger. “Dental records confirm our Jane Doe was Sierra Day.”

She reached for the coffee Eva had just set in front of
her. She didn’t want the brew so much as she needed to do something with her hands. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Well, you are the first, Counselor,” Kier said. “The woman did not have a huge fan club.”

Sadness chewed at her. “She could be a challenge.”

“That’s not the word I’ve heard bandied about,” Kier said.

“She was ambitious. And driven. I’ve been accused of both and called a few bad names for it.”

Challenge sparked in Kier’s eyes. “Have you ever been called a liar or manipulator?”

Directness was her blessing and curse. “Yes. And as I remember you’ve used a few extra choice descriptions: Countess of Evil, Wicked Witch of the East and what was the other one? Oh, Bride of Satan.”

No trace of apology altered his features.

Angie’s loyalty to her clients hadn’t been severed by death. “Sierra had her faults, but she didn’t deserve to be murdered or to have her flesh stripped from her bones.”

“No argument here, Counselor.”

Kier and Garrison were good at what they did. They would put aside personal feelings and move heaven and earth to find Sierra’s killer.

“Got any suspects?”

“You know I do. But I’m dealing with airtight alibis around the time the victim vanished.”

“Dixon visited me today.”

He tensed. “Really?”

“I refused to represent him.”

Kier’s lips tightened. “Why?”

“You don’t need the specifics. You just need to know I’m not his lawyer.”

He crumbled his napkin into a tight ball and tossed it on the bar. “Did he tell you anything of interest?”

“Only that he feels like you tried to railroad him with Lulu Sweet.”

“He mentioned her by name?”

“Yes.”

Malcolm traced the edge of his plate with his thumb. “Too bad.”

“I assumed you’ve checked his alibi.”

He nodded. “Dixon was at a convention in New York until Saturday morning. Turns out he’s got hundreds of alibis of people at the convention. Plus surveillance cameras at Dulles Airport show him passing through security.”

She cradled her cup. “Sierra never once mentioned Dixon or plastic surgery during our visits.”

“Maybe he suggested she keep it to herself.”

“Why?”

“You tell me. You have got insights into the man few have. Maybe he didn’t want her to know too much about him.”

She no longer had secrets or privacy to protect when it came to Dixon. She’d been very clear she wanted nothing to do with him. “He didn’t look rattled. Miffed that I wouldn’t take his case but cool and controlled. In fact, he reminded me of a child playing a game. I was just a piece he wanted, and when he couldn’t get what he wanted, he left.”

Kier tossed his uneaten fry down. “So he left without a problem?”

“For the most part. It was nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Be careful, Counselor—he is not a nice man.” No missing the worry in his voice.

“I can take care of myself.”

For a brief moment, an odd sense of kinship drew her toward him. As if for the first time they were on the
same side. It felt good. “So with his airtight alibi, he is off your suspect list?”

Kier shook his head, his expression dark and brooding. “That son of a bitch is into something. I know it. Can feel it in my bones. His request for representation makes me more certain than ever.”

“That’s not proof, Detective.”

“No, it is not. But I will get it.”

Wednesday, October 5, 10
P.M.

Lulu Sweet felt like shit. She’d been late for her shift at the nightclub because she’d had to go by that stupid fancy shop and get herself a dress for court tomorrow.

The lady running the shop had given her The Evil Eye when she’d walked into the shop. She’d felt so small and dirty and the
May I help you?
had sounded like a
Get the hell out of my shop!

But Lulu had held her shit together, reminding herself that David was more important than a dress shop clerk. So she’d jutted out her chin and told her that Angie had sent her.

The woman’s hard eyes had warmed immediately, and she’d said she’d been expecting her. That had helped thaw some of the ice coiling around her spine, but she’d never really warmed up to the whole idea of a makeover. She wasn’t interested in looking like one of the bitch-snob mothers who lived in the Old Town. She was who she was, faults and all, and she knew she could be a
good mother to David regardless of the color of her hair or the patches on her jeans.

But she’d played the game, thanked the lady for the nice, ugly dress, and headed to the hair salon. However, when she’d gone to the salon, she’d balked when the hairdresser wanted to dye her hair back to her natural black. Not a super-dark, bitching black but an old-lady, mousy black. She thanked the lady as nicely as she could and left the salon.

Now, dressed in a mini and halter, the uniform of the club, her hair still blond, she felt like herself. Hot. Bitching. Smart. In this bar, this area of town, she was in her element. She understood the rules and how to swim with the sharks.

But that familiarity, instead of calming her nerves, stoked her worry. This dark world was no place for a kid. What if she couldn’t make it in the real world?

It had been a smart move to get Angie Carlson’s help. The woman would sell her case to the judge. Shit, Carlson could sell sand in the desert.

So what if Carlson got the judge to give her David? What if she won and got everything she’d ever wanted? And what if Lulu fucked up the kid?

Sure, she wanted him, just like she’d wanted to go to that dress shop and hair salon. But in the end she’d not seen it all the way through. What if full-time motherhood felt as awkward as that damn dress and hair color? David wasn’t a hunk of fabric that could be tossed aside or a style to be changed. He was
forever
. And what if she couldn’t do forever. She sure as hell had never managed long-term anything before.

Jitters knotted her stomach. Her hands trembled as she tied her apron around her narrow waist. In the old days
she’d run to the booze or meth. Both dulled the sting of nerves and the you’re-not-good-enough thoughts.

But that was before. And this was now. And now was different. Right?

Six months ago when she’d sat in a jail cell holding David’s picture, she’d sworn she’d never, ever use again. And she’d been good to her word.

So why now when she was so close to winning did she want to drink so badly that her hands shook? “Fuck.”

Lulu started taking orders, trying to just focus on work. But time did not ease the fear or the tremble in her fingers when she keyed in orders.

“So what did that machine ever do to you?” The husky voice came from a blond waitress by the bar.

Lulu glanced up at Marcia—or was it Maureen? She was in no mood to make nice. “The damn thing is just slow.”

Marcia or Maureen shrugged. “Works fine for me.”

“Great.” The dull ache behind her right eye really pounded, and the fragile hold on her temper slipped.

“Maybe if you didn’t punch it so hard?” the girl offered.

“Right.”

“You need to relax.”

“I don’t need to relax. I just need to get this damn order rung up!”

The girl raised a knowing brow. “Tony is out back if you need something to help you relax.”

Tony. He dealt drugs. Pot. Coke. Pills. Not the meth she’d learned to love so much but other stuff that could take the edge off.

Lulu took her first real good look at Marcia/Maureen. The girl was skinny, had spiked hair and a nose ring. Tattoos covered her chest and arms, and she had a spark
in her eyes that hinted to the drugs in her system. Flash back a couple of years, and Lulu could have been her.

That time hadn’t been all darkness. The tricks weren’t always bad, and the drugs took so much of the pain and worry away. And Lulu wanted so badly just to take a break from the anxiety and the fear. Just a break. She loved David, and she’d fight to the death to get him back, but right now she just needed a break.

Lulu sniffed. “You said Tony is out back?”

“Yeah. And he asked about you.”

“Did he?”

“He misses you.”

The logical part of her brain told her that he didn’t miss her. He missed her money and body. But the primitive emotional side of her that was so needy and hungry for love, warmed. For just a few minutes, she wanted to fit in and not worry. Just a few minutes …

Lulu smiled, knowing if she could soften a little she could coax a favor out of this chick. “Can you cover my tables for about ten minutes? I’ll owe you.”

The chick nodded. “Yeah, sure. Hey, and I’m working this party late tonight. If you want to come, well the more the merrier.”

Lulu knew what the girl meant. She was turning tricks tonight. Lulu hadn’t turned a trick in six months, and as bad as it was, like the drugs it was familiar and resided in the world she understood. “Maybe.”

Maureen/Marcia nodded. “It will be fun.”

“Sure.” Lulu pulled off her apron and pushed through the crowded bar, through the kitchen, and out the metal door that connected to the alley. The cold night air hit her as the door slammed behind her. Even out here, the pulse of the music throbbed in her gut.

Lulu hugged her arms around her chest. She stood
under a lightbulb that spit out enough light to illuminate the back stoop but not enough to light the alley. Darkness surrounded her, but she knew Tony was out there. She could feel his gaze on her. She could almost see him reaching out from the darkness, taking her by the hand, and gently pulling her toward him.

But she knew Tony well enough. He would want her to come to him. Especially after her dramatic speech the last time he’d tried to tempt her with drugs and his bed. “I’m giving that shit up for good.” She’d been so full of strength and will then.

Lulu shoved out a breath. “Tony.”

Cars passed on the street at the alley’s lip. A horn honked. A couple argued on the street. But no Tony.

Bitterness tightened her chest. He was going to make her work for this. He’d been pissed by her last rejection, and he wanted her to beg.

She’d done enough begging over the years. It was part of life. A tool to get what she wanted from her mother, drug dealers, or even johns. The only time begging really hadn’t worked had been the night she’d been with Dr. Dixon. She could still remember looking up at him as he’d tied her to the bed. But when he’d pulled out the scalpel and tracked it over her breast, she’d shivered with terror. That time when she’d begged him not to cut her, she’d meant it. She hadn’t liked the rough sex but had survived it. The one thing she’d not banked on was getting cut or dying.

“Don’t, please,” she whispered. Tears stung her eyes.

His Mr. Rogers grin telegraphed his enjoyment. He liked the way her breasts quivered when she struggled. “I can make you perfect.”

And then he sliced his scalpel over her breast, splitting the skin.

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

Blood trailed down her pale skin. “I want to keep going, but I don’t get to kill. The Other one kills.”

Pain scrambled clear thinking. “Who the hell is that? Is that you?”

He didn’t answer, but the streets had been buzzing about the three missing girls.

She didn’t know who the girls were, but she’d heard whispers. When the first had vanished, there’d been no real alarm sounded. Girls disappeared from the streets. It was a part of this world. But when the second didn’t show, other girls had whispered about a killer on the hunt. By the time the third had gone, fear snapped like electricity on the streets. The girls had wanted to pull back and stick with just the regulars, but their pimps pushed them to work and so they did.

Lulu screamed loud and long, and the noise startled Dixon. He glanced around, suddenly afraid that even in this seedy motel her screams would attract unwanted attention. He rose off the bed and went to his briefcase where he kept his little toys. He was getting a gag.

But there was a dark, dangerous look in his eyes. He’d kill her to survive.

She’d never know how she squirmed free of her bindings, but she had.

When he turned to face her, she had the lamp in her hand and hit him as hard as she could. He stumbled back and hit the floor. She scooped her clothes off the floor and ran out of the room into the street naked. She ran a half block before she stopped to pull on her T-shirt and shorts.

There’d been a female cop working the corner that
night. A tall redhead, she was talking to one of the girls and had spotted Lulu the instant she’d paused by the front stoop of a bar.

“You okay?”

Her clear voice startled Lulu. Instinct told her the new girl was a cop so she clutched her hand over her breast to hide her injury, which had bled through her shirt. She didn’t want more trouble. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” The words were wrapped in a genuine gentleness that had sent her defenses crashing.

Lulu had wept. “Some john got a little rough.”

The cop pulled out her phone.“You’re bleeding badly.”

“I’ll heal.”

“Not without help.” She called for an ambulance.

Lulu’s head spun. She’d have fallen if the cop hadn’t cupped her elbow and guided her to the curb. Again, she was gentle. “My name is Officer Julian.”

Tears welled in Lulu’s eyes.

“Who did this to you?” Julian asked.

Lulu sensed the other girls on the corner were watching like wolves ready to destroy the weakest member of the pack. “He’s a regular. His name is Dixon.”

Officer Julian squatted next to her, radiating a strength that made her feel safe. “He cut you.”

She glanced into Julian’s eyes for the first time. To her surprise there was no judgment. No disgust. “I think he was talking about the girls that went missing. I think he killed them.”

And from that moment, her life had changed. She’d gone to the hospital, been stitched up, and the cops had asked her all kinds of questions. She’d identified Dixon in a lineup and soon found herself the key witness in a murder trial.

Lulu shut her eyes. She did not want to remember that part of her life. “Tony! Where are you?”

The shuffle of feet followed, as if he pushed out of the lawn chair he always brought with him. Tony was a big guy and hated standing for long stretches. “I’m here, baby.”

The cold made her nose run. She swiped the back of her hand across it. “I need just a taste. Not much. Just a taste.”

“Baby, I got all the taste you need.” He stepped into the fragile ring of light, his black face blending with the darkness. He grinned, his gold and diamond grill catching the light. “What kind of taste do you want?”

“Nothing harsh. Just a little to get me through.”

He chuckled. “Thought you didn’t want no more parts of me.”

How could she have been so sure then and so unsure now? “Yeah, we all say stuff.”

“Sure, baby.”

“I just want a taste.” She played a dangerous game. He’d give her a sample, knowing she’d want more. And when she came begging for more, he’d start making demands. But she wouldn’t want more.

She wouldn’t!

He slid his big, black hand into his pocket and pulled out a baggy full of tissue-paper wads. “I can give you a few hits.”

She glanced around the alley, worried for the first time that someone would see her. “Just one will do.” She dug a twenty out of her pants pocket and handed it to him.

He took it and happily handed her a little tissue wad loaded with coke. “I tossed in a little extra.”

Lulu stared at the wad in her hand, hating and craving it all at once.

“I’ll be here for a few more hours if you need me again, baby.”

Her fingers tightened around her little lump of happiness. “I won’t be back.”

Genuine laughter rolled out of his chest. “Right.” Brown eyes glistened and danced as Tony stared down at her. The hunter stared at his prey.

Unable to bear his gaze on her any longer, she turned and moved toward the other edge of the light. Her heart hammered in her chest as she slowly unfurled her fingers.

Just a taste.

I won’t be back.

With a trembling hand she untwisted the top of the wad and found the little lump of white powder. Just a sniff and she knew how good she was going to feel.

Just a sniff.

Just one.

She raised her palm to her nose, and in a blink Angie Carlson’s face flashed in her mind. The attorney had stared at her this afternoon, clearly expecting her to be a fuckup. The gaze had raised Lulu’s ire, and she’d been determined to prove to the snotty bitch that she was worthwhile.

For several moments sitting in that fancy office, she’d felt as low as she had on the witness stand. And that had pissed her off. But she’d held her tongue because she’d wanted her son more than she’d wanted to tell Carlson to fuck off.

And staying in control had served her well. By the end of their meeting, there’d been the faintest hint of hope in Angie’s eyes.

I want my son
.

This little bit of white powder would not only destroy Angie’s flicker of hope, but also if the judge ordered a random drug test tomorrow, she’d be fucked for good. She’d never get David back, and Angie would drop her.

Tears burned in Lulu’s eyes as she stared at her shaking palm. She wanted the hit so bad that her muscles quivered.