Angels (Nevada James #3) (Nevada James Mysteries) (12 page)

Chapter 17

The next
morning I had a text waiting from Sarah. She’d sent over the names of the two
women who had filed sexual assault charges against Adam Taylor and Shaw
DeMarco. I wrote them down on a note pad I had handy and thought about what to
do with them. Sarah had probably sent the names over thinking I could contact
the women and see what they’d done after their attacks. It would be useful to
know if either of them had visited Second Star. Barring that, maybe I could
find some other connection between them. Contacting them to ask was an option,
but not one I wanted to pursue yet. It would mean asking those women to relive
an experience I was sure they would just as soon forget. I wanted to know, but
I wasn’t going to cross that line.

Thinking
about how to proceed drove me nuts for the better part of an hour. I hadn’t
gotten a call from Samantha from Second Star yet, and I wasn’t sure I would. If
she was the person I was looking for, there was no way she was just going to
get in touch with me. I’d have to track her down.

Vanessa
had told me Samantha was out sick. Was that true? The only way I could think of
to find out was to go back to Second Star and see if she was there. I’d been
there yesterday, though. If I came on too strong, it could lead to trouble for
me. I didn’t think Esther Cromwell was the type to put up with my nonsense. Or
maybe I just found her name intimidating. Esther Cromwell didn’t sound like the
name of someone who took prisoners.

Instead
I went to my computer and opened up a program that connected me to an encrypted
proxy server in Bulgaria. That would make it very difficult to trace what I was
about to do back to me. Then I logged into a webmail account I used for this
purpose. I started a new message but left the recipient field blank. In the
body I typed
find me an address for a Samantha, works at Second Star Women’s
Help Center here in SD
. I saved the message to my drafts. It would never be
sent. Abercrombie also had access to this account. He would eventually see the
message, read it, and erase it. But if I was lucky he’d get me an address.
Visiting Samantha at home might be risky, but then again, it might get me some
answers.

Two days
passed. I had lunch with Molly Malone. I thought about visiting Paul Wilkins at
the hospital, but didn’t do it. I thought about painting my fingernails black
to match my mood, but in the end I didn’t do that, either.

It was
about noon on a Wednesday that I got a text from a blocked number.
Sorry.
Busy. Samantha Connors. 8401 Hilmer Ct., La Mesa
. Abercrombie had come
through with an address. I didn’t know it, but Hilmer Street was right off I-8,
about fifteen minutes away from downtown San Diego. Hilmer Court would be easy
enough to find.

Half an
hour later I was in La Mesa. Samantha’s house was a small California ranch in
what would probably be described as a bedroom community. There was little I
could see in the way of businesses, but the suburbs were large and sprawling.
This part of La Mesa was relatively upscale. Not wealthy, but certainly
middle-class. I’d known plenty of people who lived out here because the housing
was a great deal cheaper than in San Diego proper.

There
was no car in Samantha’s driveway, but there was a garage and I assumed it
could be in there if she was home. My Glock was tucked into its shoulder
holster and as I stepped out of my car I unsnapped it so the gun would be a
little easier to get into action. I doubted I was going to need it, but if she
turned out to be the person I was looking for, it was hard to say what might
happen.

I looked
around as I walked up to Samantha’s front door. There was nobody around, and it
was so quiet here you might be able to hear a pin drop from across the street.
It probably wouldn’t have been a bad area to retire to, if you wanted to live
in Mayberry.

Nobody
answered when I rang the doorbell. I waited thirty seconds and rang it again.
Then I knocked. There was still no answer. I stepped back and watched the
windows. The blinds were down so I couldn’t see inside, and there was no
telltale movement that would indicate someone in there was peeking out to see
who was at the door. I waited, and then rang the bell a third time. Then I went
back to knocking. It occurred to me that I should have asked Abercrombie to
find a phone number. If I called and there was an answer…but it was too late
for that now.

A wooden
fence around eight feet high ran from the edges of the house to the properties
on either side, meaning nobody could simply walk around to the rear. A gate was
in place next to the garage, and there was little doubt a path behind it would
go around to a backyard and maybe a swimming pool. I could probably have scaled
it, but at that point I’d have gone from being an annoying person asking
questions to a criminal. If a nosy neighbor saw me and called the cops, I was
going to have a hard time explaining what I was doing. I decided against it. I
didn’t know if Samantha was even here. For all I knew she’d gone back to work.

I got
back in my car, watched the windows of the house for another two minutes or so,
and then put it in gear and drove away.

Tracking
down Samantha was still a priority. She was literally my last lead. I decided
to head over to Second Star to see if she’d shown up there. This entire thing
could be resolved in five minutes if I got lucky.

The
moment I walked through the door at Second Star I guessed I wasn’t going to be
lucky. Vanessa was at the reception desk. She gave me a wary look. “Detective
James,” she said as I approached.

“Hi,
Vanessa,” I said. I waited for a moment to see if she’d say anything else.
Sometimes people were nice enough to fill in awkward silences and give
something away that they might otherwise not have, but this wasn’t one of those
times. “I don’t suppose Samantha has come back to work? I sure hope she’s
feeling better.”

Vanessa
shook her head. “She’s not back.”

“Have
you heard from her?”

“No.”
Vanessa sounded worried. “I’m not sure what…” She shook her head again. “No.
She isn’t back.”

“She
hasn’t called in to let you know she’s still all right? Maybe she’s still
sick?”

“She
hasn’t called,” Vanessa said. “I’m not sure what to think at this point.” She
glanced back at the main office area. “Esther is pretty upset about it.”

“She
probably is,” I nodded understandingly. “Would you be guessing she’s at home?”

“Guessing,
sure.”

“I don’t
know,” I said. “I went out there to say hello and she didn’t answer the door.”
I was trying to put a helpful quality into my voice, but I wasn’t sure it was
working.

Vanessa’s
eyes narrowed. “You went to her house?”

I
shouldn’t have said that. “I did,” I admitted. “I just have a few questions for
her, and the sooner I can get them out of the way, the sooner this will all be
over. I just need a little information.”

“Okay.”

“Do you
think I could get her phone number from you?” I asked. “Maybe I could give her
a call and make sure she’s okay? Krystal Harris was involved with some bad
people, like Esther said before, and it’s really possible Samantha’s in
danger.”

Vanessa
looked like she was trying to decide whether to take me seriously or not. Maybe
I seemed like a crazy person to her. Well, that was fair. I
was
a crazy
person. I’d known that for a long time.

“I don’t
think I should give you her phone number,” she finally said. “It just seems
like a violation of her privacy. I’ll keep trying her, though.”

“Sure,”
I said. Something else occurred to me. “There might be something you can do,
though.” This was going to be a longshot, but I was out of cards to play. “I
have the names of two women and I’m wondering if either of them came in here…”

Vanessa’s
hand shot to her phone. She pressed a button on it and I heard a chime. Esther
Cromwell’s voice answered over the speaker. “Yes, Vanessa?”

“Nevada
James is here asking questions,” Vanessa said quickly.

There
was a brief pause. “I’ll be right out,” Esther said.

That
certainly wasn’t what I’d been hoping would happen. “So I’m thinking you’re
probably done talking to me,” I said to Vanessa. She didn’t answer.

Esther
came through a door behind Vanessa a few seconds later. “Ms. James,” she said,
nodding at me. “How are you?”

I
shrugged. “Not fantastic, but that’s nothing new. How are you?”

“I’m
fine, thank you.” She didn’t
look
fine. She looked annoyed. “What are
you doing here?”

I was about
to tell her I was selling magazine subscriptions when Vanessa spoke up. “She
wants contact information for two of our clients.”

To be
fair, that wasn’t what I’d asked for at
all
, but it probably would have
been up next. But I’d never gotten around to telling Vanessa their names. She’d
jumped the gun a little on that one.

Esther
tried to conceal a scowl, but it didn’t work out that well for her. “Do you
have a warrant for this information, Detective James?” She shook her head. “
Ms
.
James, I should say. I do recall that you’re no longer with the police
department.”

“You
know I don’t,” I said.

Vanessa
looked up at Esther, wide-eyed. “She went out to Sam’s house trying to find
her.”

Esther
gave me a cold stare. “Is that true?”

I didn’t
want to admit it, but what was I going to say? That Vanessa had gotten it wrong
and this was all a hilarious misunderstanding? “Yeah.”

“I see,”
Esther said. “Well, I must tell you that there’s no information I can give you
about our clients. Even if you were a police officer and did have a warrant,
our attorneys would handle that process. Some information is protected, after
all. But it’s irrelevant, as you are neither a police officer nor do you have a
warrant. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

There
was no point in making a scene here, but something Vanessa had said during my
previous visit popped into my head. “One question first,” I said. “Didn’t you
tell me last time that you help assault victims file police reports?”

“If
that’s an option they choose,” Esther said.

“We
don’t force anybody,” Vanessa said. “We do encourage it, though.” She frowned,
and then gave Esther a look that suggested she didn’t know if she was allowed
to say that much.

“That
would all be in your files,” I said. “I mean, whether they did or not. Would
anyone here have access to that information?”

“Enough,
Ms. James,” Esther said. “I don’t know what we’ve done to deserve this
harassment, but I do wish you’d stop.”

“Yeah.”
I nodded. “Sometimes I wish I could stop, too. But I just can’t.” I shrugged.
“It’s like I have a disease or something…”

“Perhaps
you should seek counseling,” Esther said.

“That’s
a great idea,” I said. I snapped my fingers. “Do you have any openings today?
Maybe I should sit down with someone and…”

I’d
thought that was pretty funny. Esther didn’t. Five minutes later I was standing
on the sidewalk outside, having been escorted there by a large security guard
who didn’t seem at all amused by my sense of humor. Maybe I needed to work on
my material.

Chapter 18

I got a
plate of Vietnamese noodles for lunch and ate in my car as I considered what
I’d learned. It wasn’t too much of a longshot to connect the two assault
victims and Krystal to Second Star. But what about the third murder? Krystal
had been so insistent that there had been something wrong there. Maybe my idea
about someone being wrongly accused was right, but how would Krystal have known
about that? I’d have to wait until Sarah came up with something for me to be
sure.

I
definitely needed to talk to Samantha. I considered driving back to her house
and knocking again, but I suspected she was avoiding me. That made sense. I’d
probably avoid me, too. Even when I wasn’t investigating a murder, I wasn’t all
that much fun to deal with.

I was
all set to put the car in gear and head home for a nap when my cell phone rang.
It was Dan Evans. I hesitated for a moment before picking up. What could he
want? “Hey, boss.”

“Don’t
start with me,” he said.

That
hadn’t sounded good. He was already annoyed. “I hadn’t really gotten started
yet,” I said. “I can, if you want. Hey, jerkface. What do you want?”

“I want
you to explain something, Nevada,” he said. “Something really strange just
happened. A few minutes ago I put a trace on your phone so I could come yell at
you in person.”

Uh oh.
“That doesn’t sound legal, boss. I’m a private citizen and I doubt you have a
warrant to trace my phone.”

“I don’t
care. You know what was strange, though? The tech guy got a hit right away. He
told me you were in Buenos Aires.”

Abercrombie’s
modifications to my phone made it nearly impossible to get a location on me.
The NSA could probably do it, if they had enough time, but the police
department didn’t have access to that kind of technology. I’d been hoping Dan
would never have a reason to notice that. Apparently I’d given him one.
“Weird,” I said. “I don’t think this is Argentina. Hang on, I’ll ask someone.”

“You’re
not in Argentina, Nevada.”

“Oh,
good,” I said. “I’m so relieved.”

“But it
gets even stranger,” he said. “I told them to run it again, and this time it
turned out you were in…” he stopped for a moment and I suspected he was reading
something off a screen. “Some godforsaken village in the Ukraine I can’t
pronounce the name of.”

“How
mysterious!” I tried to sound shocked for comic effect. I wasn’t sure it had
worked.

“What
the hell are you doing, Nevada? What did you do to your phone?”

At least
he thought it was me that had done something to it. He shouldn’t be trying to
figure out who I was working with. “You know perfectly well the Laughing Man
has always been able to track me,” I said. “I made it so he couldn’t anymore.
It means nobody else can, either. Sorry about that.”

“How?”

“I’m
never going to answer that question,” I said. “So fuck off, honestly.”

I
suspected that if I were to crack an egg over Dan’s head right now I’d be able
to watch it fry. Maybe I should get out of town for a few days until he’d
calmed down. I probably wouldn’t, of course, but I was pretty sure he was close
to going nuclear on me and it would have been the smart play. “Was there
something else?” I asked.

“Oh, was
there something else?” he asked. “Yes, Nevada. There
is
something else.
Something else is what I wanted to come yell at you about.”

“Oh,
boy!” I said.

“Do not
fucking test me right now,” he said. “You do not want to do that, I promise
you.”

I
decided the best course of action was not to say anything, so I waited for him
to continue. “Why are you poking around…” he stopped to read again. “Second
Star Women’s Help Center?”

Shit.
Someone there had made a call. I’d gone too far with that. “I wanted to ask if
their name was a Peter Pan reference,” I said. “They get really mad when you
ask, though. It’s weird.”

“God
damn
it, Nevada…”

I was on
thin ice, but suddenly I just didn’t care anymore. “Because they’re a lead,” I
said, “and a pretty damn good one.”

“A lead.
You’re working the Krystal Harris case.” It wasn’t a question. He’d figured
that out.

“Yeah.”

He
didn’t say anything for what seemed like a full minute. Finally I couldn’t take
it anymore. “Well?” I asked. “Come on. Get it out of your system.” I lowered my
voice to imitate him. “Ooh, Nevada, you’re so bad…”

“I’m
going to have you arrested,” he said.

“Oh,
give me a fucking break,” I said. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You
don’t think so?”

“It’s a
free country. I’m allowed to ask people questions if I want to. I told them
point blank I’m not a cop. I never misrepresented myself. I didn’t show them
some fake badge I got in a cereal box.”

“I told
you explicitly that my detectives would…”

“You
know what?” I interrupted him. “I don’t give a fuck.” And then I hung up on
him.

I was
feeling pretty smug about that until I got home and found two patrol cops
waiting for me in my driveway. They were apologetic, and they were pretty
clearly afraid of me, but they still put me in handcuffs and hauled me off to
jail.