Vanished - A Mystery (Dixon & Baudin Book 1) (11 page)

22

The bar was a place Dixon knew from back when he was a teenager. It used to be a place for college kids to hang out, but now it was rundown. The only people that went there wanted to hook up with the other people soaking their souls with booze. When he was younger, they hadn’t checked IDs and hadn’t cared who was drinking; black, white, biker, gangster, or gay. It was a different world back then.

They sat at the bar, and Dixon ordered two beers. Baudin stepped away for a minute to the cigarette machine and bought a pack of Luckies. He then searched his pockets for change and put a dime in the jukebox, a price that hadn’t changed in twenty years.

The Who’s “Rain on Me” started playing. Baudin leaned against the jukebox and lit a cigarette, taking a few drags before closing his eyes, blowing the smoke out through his nose. He strolled back to the bar and sat down.

“I’m glad I had a boy,” Dixon said, sipping the icy beer. “I wouldn’t want to raise a daughter in this shitty time.”

“World’s no worse than it’s always been, man. That’s just our species. I see fathers in Babylon knee-deep in this shit, too.”

“I don’t believe that. My father never had to deal with what you’re dealing with. I had two sisters, and he never had to deal with something like this. The boys knew that was grounds for being shot. Something’s changed in people. Sex is all over the TV, kids is wearin’ clothes that hookers back in my father’s day wouldn’t wear, every punk wannabe in every ghetto in this country’s got a gun… something’s changed.”

“Promises.”

Dixon took another drink. “Whattaya mean?”

“I think it has to do with promises. Couple generations ago, a man’s word was his bond. He didn’t break it for anybody, at least not publicly. Now, nobody believes in promises anymore. Everyone’s expected to break them. When you lose that trust in people, everything else crumbles, including morality. Morality is just promises.”

“You talk about morality a lot for someone who thinks our own president killed thousands of Americans.”

“You believe the Vietnam War was justified?”

“Stopping communism seems okay.”

“Did we stop it? Did we even come close?”

Dixon shook his head. “Guess not, but that wasn’t somethin’ we could’ve predicted.”

“Bullshit. They knew. And they sent those boys to die. Presidents kill people all the time. This time was just in a more dramatic way.”

Dixon put his elbows on the bar, leaning forward. “Lemme ask you somethin’. You believe in God?”

“Personal God? No, man.”

“Well, I guess there ain’t no evidence of it for a man like you.”

“If there were, what would be the point of faith? That’s the problem with creation science, man. If they ever actually do get some good evidence of God’s existence, they’ll destroy their religion. Faith won’t be required anymore.”

“What about you, though? You got faith?”

“I got faith that people will screw you in the end if they get the chance. That’s what I got faith in.”

“Well, that’s fucking awful, Ethan.”

He shrugged, puffing at his cigarette. “Why’d you become a cop?”

“I don’t know. Good insurance, didn’t need a college degree, pay was fine for out here. Seemed like a good choice.”

“You regret it?”

Dixon pointed to his empty beer, and the bartender got another bottle. “No, mostly ’cause I don’t know what else I would do. Why’d you become a cop?”

He blew smoke out. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Now I gotta hear it.”

“I joined up as, like, recon. I was part of an organization that advocated for transparency of the police department. We needed to know what went on inside the LAPD. This was, like, ten years after the riots, though, man. Everyone still thought the cops were as big an enemy as any of the gangs.”

Dixon was silent a second. “You’re shittin’ me? You were a terrorist?”

“I wasn’t a terrorist.”

“You were part of a criminal organization that wanted to take down the police. What would you call it?”

“We didn’t want to take them down, we just wanted transparency. Like I said. I’d wear, like, recorders and shit. Stupid nonsense. Just kids playing patriots.”

The beer was as cold as the first, but Dixon found it didn’t taste as good. The second one never did. “Why’d it stick?”

Baudin stared down at the tip of his cigarette and swallowed. “We raided this gangbanger’s house. It was, like, my fourth day. Still a noob. The warrant said we were looking for pot, big bricks of pot that the CI said would be there. We were securing the house, and I went back to this, like, closet. Not really a closet, more like a really small room. The door wouldn’t open, and I busted it down. This guy was taking off his shirt, and this young girl, maybe like eleven, was on, like, a twin size bed. She was staring out of this little window they let her have, just blank eyes. These eyes that, like… I’ve never seen them before. Some of the esés had kidnapped her right from her walk to school in the morning. They’d been shooting her up with H and raping her for days. The whole gang.

“I popped the guy with the back of my weapon. It busted his nose, blood just everywhere. I picked her up and carried her out of the house. At the hospital, she wouldn’t talk to no one, so I went down to see her. I sat next to her and just talked about stuff. She started crying and buried her head in my shoulder. I must’ve let her cry for hours before she stopped.”

Baudin blinked several times, as though he had been somewhere else and was just coming back to his surroundings. “Anyway, next day I turned the recordings off. I was a cop.”

Dixon didn’t know what to say. He drank his beer while Baudin smoked, and the two of them whittled away some time.

At around one in the morning, when at least six empty bottles crowded the bar in front of Dixon, he turned to Baudin, who’d been talking about his time as a beach bum, and said, “You think we’re actually gonna find this guy, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. He might just be some trucker that came through town and is gone. These guys aren’t stable. I can’t predict what he’ll do.”

Dixon finished the last of his beer and stood up. “Well, that’s it for me, man. I’m goin’ home.”

Baudin stood up and left some cash on the bar. “Thanks,” he said.

“For what?”

“For taking care of that kid for me.”

Dixon watched him as he put on his jacket. “Well, don’t let it go to your head. According to you, I’m gonna fuck you over in the end.”

23

Kaitlin Harris had been going to clubs ever since she turned seventeen. The fake ID, her older sister’s, was enough to get her into any bar in the city. None of the bouncers cared. Everyone in Cheyenne drank from the time they could drive—all except the Mormons, but she didn’t have anything to do with them.

The music was loud and the space black with flashing colored lights. Young men and women were grinding against each other, the men hoping to take it further, and the women hoping the men would go away. The dealers in the corners mostly sold X, but some had meth and coke, too. X was her favorite thing to do. It made the world the place it should’ve been rather than the place it was.

Her friends were at the bar doing shots while she sat at a table and smoked. The ritual had grown boring. Drink at home, drink here, end up at some guy’s house and drink there. Booze and sex. The X would break up the monotony, but she couldn’t afford it that often. Only one dealer here sold the pure stuff, and he sometimes charged $50 for two pressed pills, which was way more than she could spend every week. Sometimes he’d take blow jobs instead, but he was disgusting and she had never been able to bring herself to do it.

She glanced at the bar and caught the eyes of a man. He was handsome, though a little older than most. His blond hair was cut short, and he wore a black turtleneck and blue jeans. He smiled, and she turned away. She didn’t feel like playing the nice girl right now.

Before she knew it, the man was at her table, sitting down across from her.

“Buy you a drink?” he said, his face revealing a dimple when he smiled.

“Long Island.”

“Quickest way to get drunk. You looking to get drunk?”

“Aren’t you?”

He kept her gaze, the smile never leaving his face. “Be right back.”

The man went to the bar, ordered the drink, brought it back to the table, and sat down again. Kaitlin drank down a good third of it before putting her cigarette out and leaning back in the chair, the alcohol warming her stomach.

“You seem kinda older to be in here,” she said. “No offense.”

“None taken. I’m forty-three. How old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” she lied.

He smiled again. “How old are you really?”

“You saying I’m lying?”

He held up his hands. “No, no. I would never do that to a beautiful woman looking to get drunk. Especially one with the nails you got.”

She grinned. “I like ’em long.”

“What else do you like long?”

She giggled in spite of herself. “What’s your name?”

“Casey.”

“I’m Kaitlin.”

“Kaitlin, I couldn’t help but notice your friends over there. You don’t seem to be hanging out with them much.”

“Nah, they don’t want to get drunk. They wanna find boys to go home with.”

“Hm. Both worthy goals, I guess.”

She took a long drink. “What about you? What are you lookin’ to do?”

“I am looking to take you back to my house and eat Oreos and watch a movie with you.”

She laughed out loud and covered her mouth with her hand. “Bullshit.”

“Scout’s honor. I think it’d be fun, and honestly we’re both too drunk for much else.”

She nodded. “I think you just got yourself a date.”

Kaitlin had ridden down to the club with her friends, so she just told them she wouldn’t be needing a ride home. None of them protested.

Casey drove a nice Lexus. When Kaitlin got into the passenger seat, the warm smell of new leather hit her nose, and she closed her eyes.

“I love that smell,” she said.

Casey opened the center console and took out a vial filled with a white powder. He put some on his hand and offered it to her with a rolled-up dollar bill. She snorted and felt the numbing burn of coke and then, only a moment later, the rush that sent her heart into a frenzy.

He peeled out of the parking lot, the tires squealing as the moon roof opened and Kaitlin howled. She felt good, better than she had in a long time. The streets were empty at this time of morning, and she stuck her head out of the moon roof and wailed like an animal.

Casey was smiling at her when she sat back down.

“You’re beautiful when you scream like that.”

She leaned over and kissed him, thrusting her tongue in his mouth. He let go of the steering wheel, focusing on the kissing, and the car veered to the right. He grabbed the wheel, and she laughed.

When the car finally stopped, they were in front of a house. This wasn’t a neighborhood she knew or had even been to before, and she thought she’d been to them all. The house was up on a hill overlooking the rest of the neighborhood.

“Nice house,” she said.

“Thanks.”

They went inside. She noticed there was no alarm, which seemed odd for a house this nice, though she wasn’t surprised. Not enough happened in Cheyenne for people to be worried about locking doors around the clock.

The furniture was black, the carpets red. The only decoration on the wall was one painting: a crescent, a sideways M and a U that looked as if it were bleeding down. She flopped onto the couch, feeling the effects of the coke slowing down.

“Got any more?” she said.

“Oh, I got something better.”

“What?”

Before she could react, Casey was sitting next to her. He pushed a pill into her mouth and gave her some water.

“What is it?”

“Prescription pill. They call it Circle B. Makes you feel like you’re floating on clouds. It’ll work nicely with the coke to keep you feeling good.”

Kaitlin swallowed the pill and leaned her head back on the couch. She slipped off her heels and placed her foot on his stomach, slowly sliding it down to his crotch. “You sure you wanna watch a movie when there’s other things we can do?”

He grinned. “What else could we possibly do?”

She giggled. “I can think of a few things.”

“You wanna go upstairs?”

She nodded. He took her foot in his hand roughly, squeezing it until it turned white, then he let go and stuck her toes in his mouth. He sucked on them a moment and then stood up, taking her hand.

The stairs were wide and carpeted the same color as the front room below. There were no decorations on that floor either. A bathroom faced them at the top of the stairs, but there was no shower curtain, no towels or soap.

“You just move in or something?” she said.

“Or something.”

The bedroom was large, at least as large as the front room, but it was difficult to tell because the walls were all mirrors, as was the ceiling. A bed with red velvet sheets sat in the middle of the room. She ran and jumped onto it. The velvet was soft against her skin as she got up to her hands and knees. Running her tongue across her lips, she beckoned him over with one finger.

The smile was gone from his face now. He flipped off the light and then flipped another switch. The room was lit again, but a blacklight this time.

“This is wild,” she said.

He joined her, lifting up her chin in his fingers. “You have no idea,” he said softly.

Behind him, Kaitlin thought she saw movement, but it was hard to tell in this light. To the left, she saw the same thing. To the side, she heard something: the sound of breathing. Movement and breathing surrounded her.

It took a moment before the full horror of it dawned on her: they weren’t alone in this room.

“What’s going on?” she said.

“You should start feeling dizzy, but don’t worry, you’ll be awake. I told you, you are beautiful when you scream.”

In a flash of movement and pain, hands grabbed her. Fingers clawed her body as they ripped off her clothes. She screamed and heard piercing laughter in response. Casey was laughing as he stripped off his clothes and approached the bed, while the hands held her down from behind.