“Did something happen?”
“There was a bar fight. Nothing out of the ordinary.” He opted to skip the Margo-with-the-baseball-bat chapter. “They were there asking questions.”
“About?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
“Any sign of Dixon?”
“No.”
The front door of the bar opened, and Angie and Eva
hustled inside. They had red cheeks and a hint of wildness in their eyes. They seemed no worse for the wear.
Garrison rose. “You talk to Carlson. I need to have a chat with Eva.”
“Sure.”
Angie glanced between Eva and Garrison. Normally, Angie had something to say, but this time she kept her mouth shut. She watched as Eva and Garrison kissed and vanished upstairs.
“That looks like trouble,” Malcolm said. “What am I missing?”
Angie sat at the bar. “I’m sure they’ll tell us sooner or later.”
King approached them. He was a short guy with a trim build, and some likened his appearance to a leprechaun. However, he was not a man to be underestimated. “So no hello from Eva?”
“She’ll be right back,” Angie said. “She needs a minute with Garrison.”
King set a soda in front of Angie. “You hungry?”
“Starving. Roast beef on rye.”
“What no salmon cakes, babe?”
She grinned. “Living dangerously.”
King winked and laughed as he left.
As Angie sipped her soda Malcolm watched her. With her hair down, and a tight T-shirt stretched over pert breasts, she looked … sexy. Shit. More attraction to The Barracuda. Not good.
She didn’t spare him a glance. “Yeah, I know. Not my usual apparel.”
“I’ll say. But then if you’re going to a place like ZZ’s it’s best to ditch the suits.”
She glared at him. “How did you know?”
“I was there.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“That’s the idea. Blend in. Don’t piss off the staff.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What were you doing there?”
“That’s a question better answered by you.”
The flush in her cheeks deepened a shade. “We went to ask after a client of mine.”
“Sierra Day?”
“No. Lulu Sweet.”
He’d heard it all. The key witness in the Dixon trial— the same woman Dixon had referenced in Carlson’s office the other day. “You tore her apart. And now you’re her lawyer?”
“As of two days ago. Eva asked me for help. Lulu is trying to get custody of her son.”
He’d never liked the way the system had torn into Lulu, but it really bothered him to know now she had a son. “How old is the kid?”
“Nine months. And I know what you’re thinking. The kid was born after the trial. Anyway, she swears she didn’t use for most of her pregnancy, and she was clean until he was a month old. Her mother found her in a stupor and took the kid. Lulu is trying to get him back. She was supposed to meet me in court yesterday but didn’t.”
“That’s when Donovan cornered you.”
“Right.”
Absently, he traced circles on the table with his thumb. “The grandmother got custody?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe it’s for the best.”
She shook her head. “Lulu really seemed to want that kid.”
Malcolm had to put a few points in Carlson’s column. She’d been trying to help Lulu. “You call Lulu?”
“Quite a few times. Eva was sure she had gotten into trouble and wanted to check it out. Lulu worked at ZZ’s as a waitress.”
“I’ve seen her there before. She works hard. Seems to keep her nose clean.”
“Why were you there?”
“It’s a new favorite spot of Dixon’s. Just thought I might pick up something.”
“Did you?”
“Not after you and your sister’s show. Made sense to leave.”
“Right.” She stared into her cup. “I didn’t realize that Dixon liked that place. He never mentioned it before.”
“Like I said, it was a new haunt.” He frowned. “When did Lulu start working at ZZ’s?”
“Six months, give or take.”
“That’s about the time Dixon started frequenting the place.” He’d come to believe that true coincidences were very, very rare. “And no one has seen Lulu?”
“No one. We even visited the room she rented. Nothing out of place.”
“When was she last seen?”
“Last night at the bar. Went on a break. Never came back. Her shoe was found in the alley.”
He snorted. “Anyone call it in?”
“No.”
He traced the rim of his cup. “Two women who knew Dixon. One is dead. One is missing. And you have links to all three.”
A cold sensation settled in her belly. “I only accepted Lulu as a client a few days ago, and I doubt anyone knew it other than Eva or Lulu.”
“Lulu could have told someone. She wasn’t known for her discretion.”
Angie’s brows knitted. “I don’t think it was her. She was very focused on this case.”
“Both women knew Dixon. Both women knew you. That is too odd to dismiss.”
“Lulu could still turn up.”
“She could. But I’d like to speed the process up and look for her. Something tells me she’s a piece of the puzzle.”
“What puzzle?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, Counselor.”
Angie had heeded Kier’s warnings to be careful but refused his offer to drive her home. She was just parked across the street.
So when she heard footsteps behind her as she approached her car, she tightened her hold on her keys and tensed.
“Hey, mermaid.”
The familiar voice had her raising her head as she opened her car door. The man stood only a few feet away. He had come out of nowhere, and though he was smiling and relaxed, her senses jumped to alert. She glanced back toward King’s, hoping to see Malcolm standing watch over her. She didn’t see him in the crowd.
She threaded her keys through her fingers. “Do I know you?”
The man grinned. He was young, maybe early twenties, and fit. Long, thick dark hair curled around his face, and his expressive blue eyes made what would have been an ordinary face striking. “You don’t recognize me. I’m hurt.”
“Who are you?” The vague hint of welcome in her voice vanished.
“I guess you’re not used to seeing me with my clothes on.” He laughed. “From the gym. I’m the swimmer who shared lane four with you.”
Relief rushed over her and eased the tension that had wrapped around her spine. She’d been casual about her safety around Kier but now realized she was anything but safe. She barricaded her body behind the open car door. “Right. Sorry. I guess the dry hair threw me off.”
He chuckled. “Swim goggles aren’t the most attractive look.”
Breathe.
“I love the impressions the goggles make around my eyes. I look a bit like a bug when I get out of the water.”
He wagged his finger at her. “But you’re there almost every day.”
“I’m hooked, I guess.” She relaxed back against the car frame. “You swim like you’re in training.”
“Not anymore. But I guess old habits die hard. I used to swim a lot as a teen. Competed some, but now swim just for fun.”
“You must have been good. You make me feel like a turtle in the water when you zoom past.”
He shrugged. “I did all right.” He held out his hand. “My name’s Martin.”
She accepted the hand and wrapped warm, long fingers around his callused palm. “Angie.”
He tightened his grip around hers, momentarily trapping her hand in his. A second clicked by. The hesitation didn’t last long enough to set off alarm bells, but it was enough that when he loosened his grip she drew back her hand. “Well, Martin, thanks for saying hi. I’ve got to be going. Early day tomorrow.”
He slid his hands into his front pockets. “You going to hit the water?”
“I’m going to give it a try. Depends on how much work I have to review tonight.”
“Work. This late? What do you do?”
“Lawyer.”
He nodded. “I figured you for some high-profile professional.”
“Why’s that?”
“The way you carry yourself. Your discipline. Not many people are as dedicated as you to working out. That generally translates into high-achieving professional.”
“Which makes you …?”
“A guy who’s just traveling around the country before he settles on a graduate school. I’m trading swim lessons at the gym for pool time. Chances are I’ll be moving on soon.”
That explained why he’d appeared out of nowhere a few days ago. “Right. Well, Martin, I’ve got to get going.”
She tossed a final smile and slid behind the wheel, slamming the door in place. Inside her car the tensions gripping her body eased. Silly to be so wound up. Must be the lingering nerves from ZZ’s.
As she fired up the engine she tossed one more smile at Martin and was a bit surprised to find him staring at her with an intensity that rattled her composure.
She nodded.
He waved.
And she drove off, knowing already that she wouldn’t be swimming in the morning.
Friday, October 7, 7
A.M.
“We got a break in the case,” Garrison said to Malcolm as he entered his office, two cups of coffee in his hands.
Malcolm sipped his coffee, needing the jolt. “What’s that?”
“We found Sierra Day’s car.”
Malcolm set the second cup on Garrison’s desk. “Where?”
“The big outlet mall twenty minutes south of here. Local deputies have roped off the area around it.”
“Let’s go.”
Within minutes, they were on the Washington Beltway headed toward I-95 South. The cold day was clear and bright.
“So why do you look like shit?” Garrison said.
“I could say the same for you. You slept as much as I did.”
Garrison grunted. “I’m more interested in your reason.”
“Mine wasn’t so interesting. I was reviewing surveillance tapes of ZZ’s.”
Garrison shot Malcolm a glare. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Did Eva tell you why she and Angie went to the bar?”
“Lulu Sweet.”
“Yeah, well, her connection to Dixon and to Angie just bugged the hell out of me. I wanted a look at the surveillance tapes. I wasn’t sure how often ZZ taped over them.”
“And?” Garrison said.
“Turns out the tapes go back about ten days, and then ZZ re-tapes. The cameras focus mostly on the bartenders. ZZ is worried that they’re double hitting the booze or stealing from the till. He doesn’t seem to care much about the customers.”
“And?”
“There are shots of Lulu working the bar. In fact, she was there two nights ago. The last footage of her was around nine-seventeen, and then she never showed up again.”
“What about Dixon?”
“He showed up on the tape nine nights ago,” Malcolm said.
“Was Lulu working that night?”
“No.” He sipped his coffee. “He sat at the bar for an hour or so and then left. No trouble. In fact, he barely spoke to anyone.”
“So Dixon hangs out in the bar where Lulu, the woman who nearly put him behind bars, works.”
Malcolm drummed his fingers on his thigh. “But he never spoke to her or approached her.”
“Just getting the lay of the land.”
“It looks that way. But he did have an airtight alibi for two nights ago. At some reception for the ballet.”
Malcolm snapped his fingers. “Ballet. Zoe said he met Sierra at a ballet fundraiser.”
Garrison shoved out a breath. “He’s tied up in this. But I don’t see how.”
“Yet. If we dig enough, we’ll figure it out.” Malcolm sipped his coffee. “So why do you look like shit?”
Garrison glanced at him. “Eva broke up with me.”
Not much surprised him anymore. That did. “I thought you two were tight.”
He shook his head. “I did too.”
“Did she say why?”
“Said with her family history it was a matter of time before she screwed things up, and it was better just to end it now versus later.”
“I don’t see the logic.”
Garrison shoved out a breath. “You and me both, pal.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Give her a day or two to cool off, and then go talk to her. Something is chewing on her, and until I know exactly what it is, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Do you think it’s another guy?”
Garrison gripped the wheel. “It crossed my mind at about two a.m., but no, I don’t. She’s running away because she’s afraid of something. I’ll find out what’s going on.”
Malcolm shrugged. “You are a detective.”
Garrison’s grin held no mirth. “So they tell me.”
They arrived at the mall a half hour later and drove to the northwest quadrant of the parking lot, located in front of a furniture store. The car had been roped off with yellow crime-scene tape, and a deputy was parked beside it.
When they pulled next to the deputy’s car, he glanced toward them and then pushed himself out. He had a
barrel chest, a thick mustache, and wire-rimmed glasses that framed dark gray eyes.
He held out a hand to Garrison and then Malcolm. “Deputy Hall. Looks like we found the car you were looking for.”
The detectives exchanged pleasantries with Hall and moved toward Sierra Day’s car, a bright red Mini with personalized plates that said SPRSTAR. There was a ding in the bumper, as Gold had said. Blue and red prayer beads hung from the rearview mirror and a bumper sticker read: THEATER ROCKS!
It wasn’t a plain four-door that just blended into the scenery, seen and forgotten within seconds. No, this car made a statement. People took note of it when it passed. Just as they did with Sierra.
“Car’s locked up tight,” the deputy said.
“Forensics found a spare key in her room at Zoe Morgan’s and passed it on to us.” Malcolm pulled rubber gloves from his pocket, and then the key, and unlocked all four doors with two clicks of his wrist. “Have you called your forensics team?”
“We have. Should be here within the hour.”
There appeared to be no signs of violence. Her purse was not in the car, and the interior was neat and clean. No stray coffee cups or papers. Her apartment was a mess, yet her car, which was a part of her public persona, was immaculate.
The forensics van arrived just minutes later, and soon Malcolm watched as the tech meticulously photographed the car’s exterior and interior. He dusted for prints on the door, the hatchback, and the steering wheel. He lifted dozens of prints, but that didn’t mean much. Most likely they all belonged to the victim.
Malcolm’s gaze scanned the enormous parking lot,
which in the last hour had filled with hundreds of cars. “It’s a damn needle in a haystack.”
Malcolm stared at the car’s open hatchback. All that Sierra had kept in the back was a garment bag from a mall store called Joy! and a small valise filled with makeup. “Any word from mall security?”
“I called them again. They’re pulling tapes. Should be soon.”
Malcolm rubbed his eyes. He didn’t want to look at more tapes. But he would. “You want to stay with the car while I visit that dress shop and security?”
“Sure.” Most didn’t realize that a crime scene extended to anywhere there was evidence. This car, even though it was in another county, was as much a part of the Sierra Day crime scene as the spot where they found the bones.
Malcolm made his way into the mall, located the directory, and quickly found the store. It was an upscale women’s dress shop that carried evening apparel.
He moved to the store’s front desk and waited as a petite blonde, neatly made up, rang out another woman. The sales clerk glanced at Malcolm and frowned. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
“Sure.”
He didn’t fit in a store like this, and she knew it. His presence had set off alarm bells. The customer left, and Malcolm pulled out his badge. “I’m Detective Malcolm Kier. I’m with Alexandria Police.”
The woman fiddled with the gold bangles on her wrist as she stared at his badge. “You’re kind of far afield, aren’t you?”
“Had a question about a customer of yours.” He pulled Sierra’s picture from his breast pocket. “She
would have been in here week before last. Tuesday or Wednesday.”
The woman glanced at the photo and immediately nodded. “I remember her. She bought a green satin dress for a party.”
Witnesses had said Sierra wore a green dress to the cast party. “We found her car outside. In it was a Joy! bag containing a green satin dress. What day was she in here?”
“Thursday a week ago.”
So she’d made it to her party in her new dress and back to the mall to return it before she’d vanished. “Any reason why she’d return here with the dress.”
The clerk frowned. “I thought she’d bring the dress back.”
“What do you mean?”
“She asked me twice about our return policy. Wanted to know if the dress didn’t match shoes or a jacket could she bring it back. I’ll bet she went to a party or something, kept the tags, and thought she could return the dress.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“Enough.” Full lips frowned.
“She say anything about the party or her plans?”
“She was real excited. Said there was a bigwig who was going to be there. He was going to fund her so that she could make it to Broadway.”
“She say anything about this guy?”
“Only that he was well connected and rich.”
The list of people from the party had revealed no one matching that description. If she’d met up with him it had been later after the party.
He thanked the clerk and tracked down the mall’s security office located at the end of a bland hallway near
the food court. It didn’t take long to find the head of security’s office, produce a badge, and make introductions.
The security guard was a tall, lean man with deep creases ironed into his pants and shirt. A neatly trimmed mustache and a sharp part in the center of thick hair finished off the polished appearance.
The security guard’s brown eyes sparked with excitement. “I got a heads-up from your partner. I found something for you. Last Thursday morning. Your victim pulled into her parking space at ten minutes after ten. Here, let me show you.”
He turned and clicked a television remote. The screen behind him flicked on, and a grainy black-and-white tape rolled. “This is her spot a minute before she arrives.”
Malcolm watched, his nerves jumping. Sierra pulled into the spot, checked her makeup in the rearview mirror, and reached for her purse. She got out of the car and opened her hatchback. Tall and regal, she moved with confidence. She was just reaching for the garment bag when a figure approached her. He wore a dark coat and a hat so his face was obscured from the camera. When she spotted him, her pensive expression brightened.
“Seems she knew whoever approached her,” the guard said.
Malcolm nodded. Dixon. But the size didn’t seem right. “So it seems.”
“And look here. He says something to her, and she closes the car up, locks it, and follows him without a bit of hesitation.”
“Do you have footage of where they went?”
“The camera in that section of the mall wasn’t working. Someone had shot it out with a gun.”
“A gun. Like a rifle?”
“So it seems. Came to my attention last Friday. We had it fixed by Saturday.”
“Do you have the old light with the bullet?”
“Maintenance crews didn’t save it.”
Frustration chewed at him. “What about footage of whoever might have shot the camera out?”
“Nope. He never came into camera range.”
“Shit.”
“Whoever you’re chasing after is one slippery bastard who does not want to be caught.”
He didn’t want to be caught, and yet he’d left Sierra’s bones out for anyone to find. He didn’t want to be caught, but he wanted to play a cat-and-mouse game with the cops.
Lulu lost track of time in the shadowy, putrid room. Whoever had spoken to her from the darkness had made no move to approach her.
And so she’d sat in the darkness, breathing in the smell of death as she sat on the stone floor, her back to a cold, damp wall.
Several times she dozed off. But the sleep was not restful or peaceful. Even in her dreams a dark figure chased her and laughed as she struggled to run and get away. But the harder and faster she ran the slower she moved. Her pursuer always caught her, and when his icy hands touched her bare flesh she’d start awake.
Lulu’s head rolled from side to side. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but please let me go. I won’t tell anyone what happened here. I just want to leave. I just want to see my kid.”
Each time she’d plead to the darkness there’d been no response, but this time she heard the creak of a door.
“Now why would you want to leave? The party is just about to get rolling.”
The deep, familiar voice sent her scrambling to her feet. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Hunger had her swaying. “Please, just let me go.”
“I can’t let you go. We have yet to play, and I have been looking forward to this for so very long.”
The lights flipped on, and she winced at the sudden brightness. When her gaze focused and she looked into the eyes of her captor, she knew she’d never see the outside of this room again.
She screamed.
The hum of conversation drifted around Angie’s head as she sat in the metal folding chair. Her chair, like a dozen others, was a part of a circle located in the basement of a local church that hosted AA meetings. She attended meetings regularly because they had been so helpful in the beginning, and she hated to fiddle with success.
Everyone in the room shared a common experience: they all struggled with addiction.
Though Angie had not taken a drink in nearly fifteen months, temptation had been nudging her hard the last day or two. She understood the stress of her pending medical test results had been weighing on her. But it was Sierra’s death and Lulu’s disappearance that lurked behind the urges. Was there something that linked the women, other than their association with her? Was she missing a key link that would solve these cases? She wracked her brain for answers, but there’d been none. There’d been only an unholy thirst that beckoned surrender.
“Angie.” Sara Wayne’s soft, soothing voice cut through her thoughts.
Angie uncrossed and crossed her legs as her gaze shifted to the petite woman with ivory skin and a splash of freckles across the bridge of an aquiline nose. Sara couldn’t be more than thirty, but behind her warm gaze was wisdom rooted not just in academics but personal experience. “I’m sorry, my mind drifted to the office.”
If Sara recognized Angie’s white lie, she didn’t call her on it. “We’re making introductions. It’s your turn.”
Her gaze shifted around the circle of six. There was Sandi, a sixtyish school bus driver who’d been beaten and raped and drank to forget; Denise, a plump, round-faced girl of twenty who’d lost her parents in an accident; Jason a slim, nervous man who’d only once been able to talk about his near drug overdose; and Winnie, a waifish woman who loved to wear red and struggled with a meth addiction.
There was a new man in the circle who, to her surprise, had taken the seat next to her while she’d been lost in thought. He’d moved so silently that he’d barely disturbed the air around them. Tall, broad shouldered, he wore a blue dress shirt, a sport jacket, and khakis. He looked neat, pulled together, and she couldn’t imagine him lost to drugs or alcohol.