Gone at Zero Hundred 00:00 (18 page)

He sneered at me.

I laughed hysterically. “I take that
as a no. You’re right, there’s not much to worry about. I’m sure your bosses,
who are upstanding conservatives with political hopes, will understand the
implications of these photos.”

My hand was on the doorknob, turning
the knob, ready to walk out and show the photographs…

“Wait!”

I kept my hand on the knob, but
turned half-way around to face him.

He sat defiantly for a moment. “I
don’t know who killed Tamara, but I think she was killed because of something
she saw. I had a party. Some big players attended. Tamara wasn’t expected to be
there. An associate of mine lined up entertainment for the evening … things
just sort of got out of hand.”

“What kind of entertainment? Girls, drugs…?”

He gave me another look, like I was
so naïve. “Later in the evening, I found out Tamara had been there during the
party.”

“How did you find out about the
photos?”

“I was informed.”

“Informed by whom?”

“By my associate...”

“Who is your associate?”

“I can’t tell you that. That could
force them to get rid of me.”

“The same way they got rid of
Tamara?” She was murdered for god’s sake. “Give. Me. His. Name.”

His face contorted. “David Klein. His
name is David Klein.”

“How do you know David Klein?”

He grimaced. “He’s a process server.
We hire him when we need things served, or delivered to the courthouse.”

I paused to think for a moment.
Everyone kept pointing the finger at David Klein.

“So, what happens now?” He inquired,
but I could tell what I did had little impact on him. It was if I was nothing
but a cockroach interfering with his day.

I shrugged. “I don’t have control
over what the police do with you.” I knew he was lying. He knew more than he
was letting on. But, I was just a novice sleuth. I didn’t have the power to
arrest. All I could do was gather information and try to put things together. I
wanted to ask him about the victims in the photos, but I was afraid that might
put their lives in jeopardy. I walked out of his office without looking back. Let
him worry about what the cops know.

I hope they nailed him, and needed me
to do it. I had no way of knowing his arrogance returned the minute I was out
of his office, and that he picked up his cell phone and placed a call.

MY MIND was reeling when I left
his office, but it didn’t stop me from noticing the blue van with tinted
windows following me from two cars back. I didn’t know if they were the good
guys, hired by Carter to follow me and keep me out of trouble, or a couple of
bad guys.

I headed toward the gas station
where the mechanic had been working on my pickup. It was supposed to be ready
today. At the same time, I was trying to figure out how to lose the tail. I
turned into the parking lot, pulled the rambler into a spot out front, and
walked inside to collect the keys. Through the reflection in my sunglasses, I
watched the blue van pull into a metered parking spot out on the street.

Javier was the young mechanic on
duty. That would work to my advantage. He had a major crush on me. When I
walked inside, I gave him my biggest smile. Then, I offered him lunch money if
he would help me with a little prank by distracting the guys who were following
me. When he saw the cash in my hands, he was only too happy to help. Good thing
I went through my mom’s drawer. We locked our heads together to come up with a
plan.

Then, Javier walked outside and
nonchalantly, stepped into a tow-truck parked in the bay. He backed the rig out
of the lot, and parked in front of the blue van, blocking them in. When the
driver jumped out of the van and started to complain, Javier waived a yellow
sheet of paper in the air, claiming he was given orders to tow the vehicle. He
spoke in broken English and Spanish. He ignored the driver, and proceeded to
hook the crane underneath the front bumper of the van.

Immediately, the guy in the
passenger seat jumped out of the van, and yelled obscenities at Javier. Javier
acted like an innocent, young mechanic who didn’t understand what the problem
was. He played the part well. He would have got an A in our high school drama
class.

While they were busy yelling
back and forth, I jumped into my pickup and cranked over the engine. As I sped
out of the lot, I did a mock salute to the guys. They glared at me, and got on
the radio.

One thing I knew for sure; if
they worked for Carter he was going to have my hide.

SUMMER STILL hadn’t returned my
calls. Why? Cody was right. There was something fishy about her just showing up
at the firehouse out of the blue, but I couldn’t help but worry for her safety,
which is why I felt compelled to check on her. I couldn’t help but notice
everyone kept pointing the finger at her step-brother.

Somebody killed Tamara. It could
have been Anchor, or Skater. It could even have been Aaron, or David Klein. The
goons from Mexico were also on the list. Until the cops knew who killed her,
and what happened to the victims in the photos, they were all considered
guilty.

I followed the winding road up into
the hills above Sutter Beach. I knew how to get there, from following David on
the first night of surveillance. When I arrived on the street, I drove past the
house and parked a few blocks away. I grabbed my army knife and headed toward
the front of the house. It was an impressive, but there was no landscaping or
décor to give it a feeling of warmth. It was almost as if the parents bought
the home, but never really lived in it. First, I looked through the garage
windows, but it was too dark to see inside.

Then, I walked up to the door
and knocked. Maybe Summer would answer and I could breathe easy. She didn’t. I
tried the knob. It was locked, so I went around to the back of the house. There
was a set of French doors off a patio, but the yard was surrounded by
eight-feet of wrought iron fence which was impossible to climb over. I checked
the windows on the side of the house. They were secure. The front door was the
only way to get inside.

I donned a pair of plastic
gloves, and began to jimmy the lock using the hacksaw blade and the tension
wrench from the army knife. While I did, a voice in my head - which was
probably Carter - reminded me that picking locks was considered unlawful entry.
I ignored it. I had questions about Summer, but if anything happened to her,
I’d feel responsible. The lock was a dead bolt, so it took a couple minutes - a
couple minutes could be a long time when you were worried about the safety of
someone inside. Sweat trickled down the side of my face. I didn’t know if it
was from the heat, or from the fear of getting caught.

Cody and I picked up the hobby
of picking locks from watching my mom. When we were younger, we bugged her and
bugged her to teach us. She finally relented just to shut us up. When we were
twelve, we bought a bunch of door knobs and dead-bolt systems, and timed
ourselves in a competition. Cody always beat me, and had no problem rubbing my
nose in it. But at least I get to put the practice into use.

When I finally heard the click,
I cautiously pushed the door open and stepped inside. I was thankful an alarm
didn’t buzz in my ear or a vicious dog attack me at the door.

I DID a quick survey of the
house. There were two floors. I called out Summer’s name. No response. I didn’t
know how much time I had, so I moved quick searching each room for signs of a
struggle, or indications that Summer was in jeopardy. The interior lacked any
décor. It felt cold and empty. There were artifacts from exotic locations
scattered around - the same types that I saw in Aaron Grant’s office. Were
David Klein and Aaron Grant friends, and not just associates?

I came to a room that was used
as an office. It had a large cherry-wood desk, with a desktop computer on top.
I glanced at some of the documents on the desk. Some of them were modeling
contracts. There were also real estate documents. I gave them a cursory glance.
They were listed under a corporate name, DK, Inc. I’m not a legal whiz, but it
looked like Summer kept her assets protected by putting them in the names of
corporations and trusts.

She was twenty-something, but
smart. So far, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Next, I went up the stairs. The
first door I came to looked like the bedroom used by David. The bed was unmade,
and the clothes he was wearing the first time I saw him, were hanging off a
chair. Other clothing cluttered the floor. He wasn’t very neat, but there was
nothing suspicious. I crept toward another door at the end of the hall, and
slowly turned the knob…

All of a sudden, the hand of a
male wrapped around me and held on tight. He had on jeans and a t-shirt, but he
was wet like he just stepped out of the shower. His breathing was heavy in my
ear. I tried to get loose. He just pulled me tighter.

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” He hissed into
my ear, speaking with a slurred voice, like he had been drinking?

I willed myself not to panic, to use the knowledge my mom
gave me. Think, Syd, think.

I needed my mom’s gun.

The one that was in its holster...

At home…

Locked in the safe…

He pushed the door open. I noticed a bed, oversized dresser
and large antique bureau. It was the master bedroom. He shoved me into the
room. I had to get out of there, and now!

My arms were trapped. I couldn’t kick him. So, I picked up my
right foot, and stomped down on his bare toes. Cowboy boots could do some
serious damage.

“Owww!” he cried out.

Then, I lowered my chin toward my chest and slammed my head
back, and whacked him, hard. I heard it connect with the bridge of his nose.

“Sonofa…”

Both of his hands grabbed at his nose. Now that I was free, I
stepped back and kicked at the back of his knee. His leg gave out underneath
him and he landed on his butt. Then, I grabbed the army knife and flicked it at
him.

“Keep your grimy hands where they are.” I was back in charge.
But, I was pissed for letting him catch me off guard. I knew he was involved
with Aaron Grant. He could even be involved with the death of Tamara, but there
was nothing I could do about that, personally. I would have to give Carter
evidence so he could get a warrant and make an arrest. Proof - which I didn’t
have - yet. Even so, I wanted a little payback.

“You broke my nose,” he whined like a spoiled-little boy. He
was so busy worrying about that to give me a second thought.

I nudged him with the tool, and helped him to his feet “Walk.
Go back to your room and sit down by the desk.” I didn’t know what I was
planning to do. I was making decisions based on emotion, and not my brain. But
then again, how often do I think before acting? I threw a shirt at him to wipe
the blood. He staggered toward the chair. Yep, he had been drinking.

When he was seated, I reached for the tie, suspenders and
belt that were on the floor. I grabbed his hands and secured them to the chair
with the tie, and tossed the bloody shirt on the floor.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he slurred. “You’ve been
following me, and now you think you have things all figured out. But, you
don’t.”

I ignored him as I tied his legs with the suspenders. Then, I
wrapped the belt around his waist to secure his body to the chair. I pulled it
tight, until I knew it would take a while before he could get loose.

He sneered at me. “You’re gonna regret this. There are
powerful people above me.”

“Yeah, I know,” I spat at him. “And I hope to aid in bringing
you down. All of you.”

He started to whine, “But, you don’t understand. You don’t
know what you’re up against. You’re not old enough, or powerful enough.”

I glared at him, willing him to shut up. I didn’t want to
hear his whining.

“News flash!” he said. “I’m not the one you need to worry
about. I’m just a pawn. Just like you.”

His words made me take pause for a moment. Then, I grabbed a
dirty sock off the floor, and stuffed it in his mouth. “Suck on that, you
slime.”

I walked out of the house, and high-tailed it back to the
pickup. The minute I cranked over the engine, guilt of what I had just done,
hit me like a ton of bricks. My body started to shake. Did I overreact? What
did he mean when he said: I’m not the one you need to worry about? I’m a pawn,
just like you. How am I a pawn? And, how did he know I was following him?

I placed another call to Summer’s cell phone. Of course, she
didn’t answer. I thought about that a little more. Why would she come in out of
the blue, pay me to follow her brother, and then just disappear? I think Jaden
could be right when he joked about a conspiracy.

“Doesn’t matter,” I finally said to myself. “It’s not going
to stop me from doing what I need to do.” That meant a quick stop at City Hall
for a blueprint of The Devil’s Door; then another chat with Carter.