“I’ll handle that. You wait here with him.” Walter turned to Nelson. “Don’t you move. I have more questions for you.”
Nelson had his shirt on. “For me?”
“You’re the one selling the drugs around here, aren’t you?”
“Shit.” Nelson dropped to the bed. “How’d you find out?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Walter gave Kevin a long stare. He didn’t want to leave him there, but he had to get going, had to see if he could find the blond guy with the goatee before he left the club, if the guy hadn’t already. Walter approached Kevin, got close enough Nelson wouldn’t hear. “You see that guy coming back, you get the hell out of here and call me.”
“I will. Just go before it’s too late.”
Walter gave a nod and took off. At the second-floor balcony, he scanned the crowd below. No sign of a long-haired man with a goatee, with or without the ball cap. Although that could’ve been a disguise the guy had already gotten rid of, but Walter didn’t see anyone who was acting suspicious or hurrying for an exit. Just to be safe, he checked with security and gave them the description, asking them to call if they spotted him anywhere in the club. He headed upstairs, unable to stand the idea that Kevin was alone with Nelson. Who knew how involved the kid was.
Walter returned to the room. Nelson was sitting on the edge of the bed while Kevin stood against the opposite wall, his arms tight across his chest, his glare aimed at Nelson. He met Walter’s gaze, and the unease slipped away. “Any luck?”
“No sign of him.” Walter faced Nelson but spoke to Kevin. “We’ll go check the feeds later and see if we can find out where he came in and how he left. First, I want to know what he knows.” He pointed to Nelson. “Talk.”
“It wasn’t my idea. I just needed the money.”
“What wasn’t your idea?”
“Bringing the meth into the club.” He looked to the window where his fuck buddy had to have left the room.
“Was it his?” Walter asked.
“No. But he supplied it for me. He wasn’t the one who paid me, though.”
“Someone hired you to bring drugs in here?”
“I don’t wanna get in trouble with the cops. He said I wouldn’t get in trouble.”
“The cops aren’t here.”
“I want to make a call before I say anything else.”
Walter stepped closer to the bed. There was a fine line between getting someone to talk and pushing your authority too far. “You talk to me first. Who hired you?”
Nelson hesitated. “You can’t kick me out. I was only doing what he wanted me to.”
“Who?”
“Vargas. He’s the one who paid me.”
“Bullshit.”
“Go ask him yourself.”
Walter advanced. Kevin may have been a complete klutz, but he was fast. He got ahold of Walter’s arm and kept him from getting in Nelson’s face. The firm grip encouraged him back a step.
Kevin gave his arm a squeeze and turned to the man on the bed, hands up in a defenseless pose. “We want to believe you, but why would Vargas want drugs in the club? Why would he go against his own policy?”
“Maybe he wants people to have a reason to keep coming back. I don’t know, but I’m telling the truth. It was Vargas. He even issued me a new key card.”
“What do you mean?”
“The guy who was here gave me a new card when I first met him. Said it was from Vargas and I should use it to get in the back door whenever I came to meet him or had the drugs with me. I guess security doesn’t monitor that entrance all that closely.” He spoke lower as if only talking to Kevin. “I don’t want any trouble. I just really needed the money.”
Kevin sat on the bed beside him. “Tell me the truth, and I’ll see what I can do about keeping you out of trouble.”
“He told me it was Vargas, I swear.”
“Okay. So you didn’t talk to Vargas yourself?”
“No. He did.” He gestured to the window.
“You really don’t know his name?”
“He told me to call him the Protector. You know, like a code name. I figured he didn’t want to get into trouble any more than I did. Listen, he said it was no big deal. That there was a demand, and if I filled it for Vargas, they’d pay me.”
“So if you didn’t talk to Vargas, there’s a chance this Protector guy was lying about who was really paying you?”
“I guess.”
Walter faced the window. Thank God Kevin was there and handling the questioning better than he would’ve. There was no way what Nelson said about Vargas was true, even if Nelson sounded like he believed it.
Walter forced a neutral expression and turned back to the room.
Nelson was standing. “Can I go?”
“One more question.” Walter moved to the bed. “Do you know Seth Fisher?” He showed him the photo from Seth’s apartment. “The guy on the right.”
“Yeah. I was with him one night awhile back.”
“When did you last see him?”
“Just over two weeks ago. I think it was a Wednesday night.”
The night before Seth had disappeared. “Where?” Walter asked. “Here at the club?”
“Yeah. He’d met a guy and heard I knew him. He wanted to know if he was a good guy. You know, someone he could trust.”
“Who was he?”
Nelson looked toward the bed beside him.
“Your protector with the drugs?”
“Yeah. But I told Seth the truth. That I didn’t really know the guy. Can I go now?”
Walter stepped toward Nelson. “You’re coming with us. We’re watching the security video from tonight, and you’re going to look at a photo of every member of this club until you can ID the guy who was in here with you.”
Nelson’s eyes widened.
Kevin added, “You do this for us, and we’ll talk to Vargas on your behalf. Let him know you cooperated.”
“Okay.”
Walter crossed the room and waited by the door. “You can get cleaned up before we head downstairs.”
Nelson gave a nod and went into the bathroom.
“Sounds like this is our guy.” Walter watched Kevin where he still sat on the bed. “You’re good at that.”
“What?” Kevin asked.
“Talking to a witness. You’d have made a great detective.” That’s if he didn’t shoot his foot holstering his gun every day. Walter kept that to himself.
Kevin scoffed. “That wasn’t even on my list.”
“You don’t think much of cops, do you?”
Kevin didn’t respond right away. He stood and went to open the door beside Walter.
Finally Kevin spoke, his voice low. “The cops back home didn’t do much to find out who killed my little brother.”
Nelson returned from the bathroom, and Kevin stepped into the hall before Walter had a chance to ask him anything else.
* * * *
The Protector entered his room and ditched his bag with the fake hair and baseball cap onto the table beside his computer equipment. He carefully peeled away the false facial hair, chin, and nose, taking care to get all the adhesive off his skin. He tossed everything with the other items.
Yet another disguise he’d have to throw out. After what had happened tonight, they’d have a description of him.
At least the boy he’d hired to get the drugs into the club couldn’t identify him without the disguise. The club’s official record of the Protector had the photo from his license—the same way he’d looked when he’d met with the ex-cop—and that looked nothing like any of his disguises. Walter Simon wouldn’t be able to connect the two identities.
That man was spending too much time poking his nose where it didn’t belong. Tonight he’d cost the Protector his new boy.
He usually didn’t like to fuck them until he’d brought them home, until he cleansed them, showed them their new life, but this one had been patient for a long time.
The Protector had been meeting with him for months, giving him the drugs to sneak into the club. He’d made the decision it was finally time to bring him home. Then that asshole ex-cop had gotten in his way.
From the minute the Protector had heard the voice call out from the hall, he’d known it was the ex-cop.
So the Protector had to leave the room and his boy behind. Or else they might’ve realized he wore a disguise. They might’ve called the police and had him arrested. Then what would happen to his boys? Who would take care of them?
He picked up a glass jar filled with red thumbtacks and hurled it across the small room. The jar crashed into the wall and shattered into dozens of pieces. The thumbtacks and shards of broken glass cascaded down the wall and bounced when they hit the floor.
That snapped him out of the rage he’d been in since hearing Walter Simon’s voice through that door.
He had to get it together. He couldn’t take his anger into the next room.
He bent and collected the pieces of glass and thumbtacks, carefully dividing them into separate piles.
Everything would work out in the end. Even if he didn’t get the boy from tonight, he’d found another. One that intrigued him like no other.
He’d seen this new boy walking with the ex-cop when they’d first arrived at the club before the Protector had gone upstairs. The two had appeared rather chummy together. The Protector had known then he’d have to wait until the perfect moment to collect his new boy. It was just an added bonus that he’d get to take him away from the asshole Simon.
He finished storing the thumbtacks in a new jar, sat at the table, and keyed in his password on the computer. Then he logged in to the system he’d paid a hacker from the tech college to access months ago when the Protector had first taken the job to join the club. He’d also had the kid make him fake ID cards that matched the IDs of various members. He’d requested the fakes even before he’d known what treasures he’d find inside the club. The IDs and computer access had been money well spent.
Time to find a name to go with the face he’d been unable to forget since earlier that night.
He entered the search parameters into the membership activity log files. The results returned a list of club members who’d entered the Haven that night. He scanned the list, spotted Walter Simon’s name, and clicked the name directly below. Kevin Dennison. A photo came up.
That was him.
The man who needed him.
He entered
Kevin Dennison
into a Web search. A dancer in New York? That didn’t sound right, and the photos didn’t match.
So this one liked to hide, to keep at a distance from everyone.
The Protector opened another database the college kid had gotten him access to: the Department of Motor Vehicles. He took a chance the first name was correct and located a list of Kevin’s in the city who were the right age, hair color, and weight. He started going through them. A half hour later he finally found him.
Now he had an address and a phone number. And his name. Kevin Price.
The Protector searched online and uncovered Kevin’s true identity: a reporter. He read his bio and hit the Print button. He moved on to several stories with Kevin’s name in the byline. He printed those too, then opened the jar with the thumbtacks. He carefully tacked each story to the corkboard wall above his bed. Then he cut out the photo from the bio page and added it to the collection.
A couple dozen more searches, more papers tacked to the wall, and he backed up to admire his work. He reached out and straightened one of the pictures, ran a finger over the first photo he’d added.
Yes, Kevin Price needed him. He was meant to be the Protector’s.
Chapter Fourteen
Walter stood to the side and waited as Kevin unsuccessfully tried three times to slide his key into the lock, his hands shaking.
“Here, let me.” Walter rescued the key and unlocked the door.
Kevin mumbled his thanks and entered the apartment. Two steps inside, he stopped as if he wasn’t sure where to go in his own home. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I do.” Walter followed him in, grateful to get out of the stifling, stale air of the hallway into the cooler apartment. Did no one but the two of them believe in AC anymore?
Every little thing was pissing Walter off. Of course, he knew why that was too. The same thing that had Kevin freaked out.
“Some sick fuck is coming after you.”
The minute Walter had seen the large, blond man Nelson had identified as his “protector” watching Kevin on the video feed from when they’d first arrived at the club earlier that night, Walter had known without a doubt Kevin was his next target.
“We don’t know that for sure.” Kevin kept his back to Walter as he spoke.
“You saw the recording.” Walter stared at the back of Kevin’s head, wanting him to admit the truth of what they’d seen. When Kevin made no move to face him, Walter gave in and got a good look at the apartment instead.
The place was a nightmare. Newspapers stacked all over. Clothes and books and loose papers strewn across the couch, the floor, on every other flat surface. Like a tornado had ripped through the apartment and everything had been left exactly where it landed.
Somewhere in the mess, a scanner went off. “
Respond to Wood and Upton for a possible B and E in progress at the Dairy Queen. Be advised…armed suspect seen entering the store. White male, dark jeans, blue sweatshirt
.”
That brought Walter back to his old life more than anything in the past few weeks. He wanted to find the scanner and pound on it until it was nothing but shreds of plastic and metal. Instead he strode across the living room to examine the apartment more. The wall beside the couch had sheets of paper taped all over the surface. Notes about the missing men, the family and friends they’d talked to, every last name of the members they’d been interviewing, and a city map with thumbtacks at the locations of each home and employer of the missing men.
Kevin went to a desk in the corner of the disastrous room. He clicked off the scanner and hit a button on another device. A message played.
“
Kevin, you better start answering my texts. I want to know where you are with this story. Not tomorrow. Tonight
.”
“My editor.”
Walter nodded even though Kevin still hadn’t looked his way. Walter wanted to go to him, get Kevin to make a promise or two. He held back on that and walked to the couch but stopped short of sitting. Kevin hadn’t mentioned any pets, but Walter didn’t want to chance he’d smash something living under the papers, blankets, pillows, and clothes. A second message played on the machine across the room.