The Past, page 27
I saw an old dump ahead. The sign blinked, a third of the letters missing. I pulled into the Westgate Village Inn and put the truck in park. “Here. Go get us a room.” I handed her a hundred bucks.
She took the money and climbed down from the vehicle.
As she meandered up to the office, I saw a flash of the other dark-haired woman. The same one who’d looked so familiar before. The vision vanished before I could remember. I concentrated on the hooker’s movements, but the image of the other woman didn’t come back to me.
She came out of the office several minutes later and gestured for me to follow. Her hips swayed gracefully while she walked to room thirteen and unlocked the door.
I pulled the pickup in front and went inside. The dingy room was spacious, offering plenty of room for her to move around. “Do your walk for me. It gets me going,” I lied.
“What walk?” She faced me, hesitated, then stuck her hand down in her red purse. “My lips are dry. I need gloss.”
Her arm moved around above the top edge of the bag. “I don’t care about your damn lipstick. I want you to strut like you did on the street.”
She flashed a dazzling smile. “Okay, okay.” She shrugged and walked toward the dresser. Her eyes locked with mine in the mirror. She sauntered and stopped once she neared the far wall. She turned. “You ever been to Tulsa?”
The question fired an alarm through me, but I didn’t know what it meant. “No, I don’t think so.” I shook my head, but the word “Tulsa” brought flashes like a strobe light that illuminated memory splotches from the past.
Trin wanted to throttle himself and everyone remotely related to this case, but mostly he wanted the damned pickup to appear in front of them. They took the exit he figured they should try, but his hope ebbed low. Too much time had passed.
“Do you know this area at all? Are there any motels or parks close by? Those are his primary crime scenes.” He grabbed the edge of the backseat with all his might to release tension, but it didn’t help.
“Definitely plenty of crummy motels in this area. I don’t remember any parks,” Buck answered.
“Radio any patrols in the area to search motels for his pickup.”
“Will do.” Buck lifted the transmitter and relayed the request.
Vern turned twice and pulled up to their first one they saw. They made a slow sweep around every side and searched for their target. No old brown pickups.
29
Josh figured he was close, but he didn’t see the pickup anywhere. The red dot barely moved before it stopped again. Four rundown motels and several cafes sat in his view. Normally, he wouldn’t come alone to this part of town, but he hadn’t seen any of the police vehicles after he got on the freeway. That meant Paige was in this alone except for him. He grabbed the Glock from the glove compartment and checked to see the gun remained loaded and ready.
He pulled into the first motel and slowly circled the rooms on each side. He pushed the button to lower his window. He wanted to be able to hear in case anyone called for help. Anticipation tensed his shoulders and spine. He continued to slow his breathing and listened for Paige’s voice. Nothing.
He drove on to the next motel and repeated his actions. He longed to yell out, do anything to find her, because he knew time was running out.
Paige paused in the repetitious sauntering back and forth, back and forth across the room and tried to engage the man. “So what do they call you?”
She paused to face him. He seemed so young, yet so much like his brother.
“What the hell is it to you? I pay you to walk. I need to remember.” He nodded at her to start again.
She knew who he was. Something had clicked when she saw Tom McCall’s photo in Trin’s papers. The first time she’d seen a picture of Ben’s father, she sensed something about him was familiar, but wrote it off to resembling his son.
But now she remembered. She knew exactly who this killer was. The thirst for justice that had consumed her since she’d seen Grace’s mangled body was now tangled up, her emotions conflicting.
“Sometimes I like to know who I work for. You sure you never been to Tulsa? It’s in Oklahoma.” She started her trek across the room one more time and kept her eyes on him.
“Let it alone. I don’t want to talk about some damned town I’ve never been to.”
“I heard you say you needed to remember. What’s that about?”
He moved, reached down to the floor. He held a bat by his leg. She sauntered back to her purse and the gun inside it. The green light still flashed on the recorder she’d started when she went for her lip gloss earlier.
“What the hell are you doing? I told you to walk.” This time he pointed with the Louisville Slugger and urged her on.
She picked up the purse, dangled it over her arm, and swung her hips, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
Josh drove slowly toward the back of the second motel. As he came around to the front, two guys walked up to the Escalade.
“Are you scoping out our turf?” The first one stuck his head in the window. The second pulled a gun from behind his back.
“No.” He gave them a pointed expression. He didn’t have time for their bullshit. “I’m looking for someone. A brunette about five eight or nine. She’s gorgeous. I think she went into a motel around here. I need to find her quick. Now get the hell out of my way, I’ve got business to tend to.”
“You dissin’ us? That ain’t no respect, man. It could get you hurt.” The kid boasted a tattoo on his neck, likely gang-related. He lifted his gun, leveling it at Josh.
Trin heard the rotors of a helicopter passing overhead. No one had spotted the truck yet. Vern drove around one motel after another, but time continued to slip away. With it, the chance of saving Paige dwindled. His stomach filled with acid, which no amount of Tums could fix. He ran his hand through his hair several times.
He dialed central command again and checked for any disturbances in the area. Someone had reported a woman screaming several blocks away. He gave Vern the address, and they took off, Vern driving like a maniac with a death wish.
The dilapidated clapboard house didn’t feel right. He and Buck departed the vehicle and moved toward the sagging porch that fronted the old house. Dark and silent, it towered before them.
“The unsub’s never taken a victim to a house before, but this one appears deserted. Let’s get this over with.” He pounded on the door. “Police! We have reports of a potential domestic altercation. Open up!”
Buck swallowed and took a deep breath. He came up beside him. Buck kicked the door open. He went through, flashlight in hand, and illuminated the way. The main room in front revealed no inhabitants of the human variety. Cobwebs and layers of dust covered an old sofa with padding sticking out of the arms. A filthy trash can lay on its side, the contents spilled across the floor. He smelled the acrid bite of a fired weapon. The situation didn’t bode well for the screaming woman. He told himself it wasn’t Paige. The unsub didn’t use a gun, but he was aware their guy might possess one. Or he might have taken control of Paige’s. Son of a bitch.
“Are you ready? Let’s slice the pie,” Buck said.
He nodded to the left, which meant he would take that side. They went down the hall, Buck on the right.
He ducked and entered the first door. He moved the light around the room and stayed low.
“Clear.”
Buck entered the door on the right and flashed his Maglite into every corner.
“Clear.”
“I got something here,” Buck said as he entered the next door on the right.
Trin’s stomach felt like it dropped a foot. He entered the room. The scent of gunfire got stronger. He breathed again once he saw the clothes were the wrong ones. Thank God.
“It’s not Paige. The victim is a teenager.” Buck holstered his Glock.
“Call it in. Can you stay with the body until the police arrive? We’ve still got to find Paige. I’ll take Vern and the car. Get loose ASAP. I can give them my statement later.” He glanced at his watch. “Ten twenty-one.”
Josh stared at the two young punks before him. Stupid teenagers. “I don’t want to mess you up, but it’s what’ll happen if you give me any more shit. I need to find this woman. She’s in trouble. You see an old Ford truck pull into any of these motels in the last few minutes? It’s important. How about a hundred bucks for the information?”
“How about you give us everything in your wallet, and we don’t give you shit?” The kid’s hand on the window displayed a cross inked on it. He looked barely old enough to be out of high school.
Stupid kids. Josh shrugged, yanked the handle, and slung the door wide in a split second. The teen sprawled in the street, his head landing with a thud. He slammed the door back against the truck and stepped into a kick that caught the tattoo-necked boy in the hand. The boy’s gun clattered to the ground.
After the young punk swung with his fist, Josh grabbed it and twisted the teen around until the arm wrenched against the kid’s back. As the kid lifted his leg to stomp his foot, Josh tripped him and continued to hold the arm in place. Tattoo boy hit the ground face first. Blood spurted from his nose.
“Wise up, before someone kills you both for your stupidity. Know your enemy, or you won’t get much older.” With his knee still on his back, he zip-tied him and the other one who remained out cold. He left them in the street. Not his problem. He only cared about finding Paige. He got back in the Escalade and continued his search for the truck.
Paige watched him lift the Slugger to his shoulder. His massive biceps bulged as he adjusted his grip on the handle. She needed to get his attention. “Why did you kill your father?”
He stopped. So did she. She studied him, uncertain how to attack next. Her hand moved slowly inside the bag she carried and hunted for the grip to the gun. She backed a step away from him.
“Why did you stop? I only pay if you continue to walk.” He slammed the baseball club down on the bed. A dust plume flew up.
She peeked down for a split second to better place her hand on the gun he couldn’t see.
“What did you ask me?” He shook his head like he wanted to clear it.
“I asked why you killed your father, Tom McCall.” She faced him and showed no fear but clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering.
“Who are you?”
“Someone who wants to keep you alive. It’s not too late. Drop the weapon and let me help you.”
“Are you joking? I ain’t never dropping this. It’s my lucky friend. Besides, that asshole deserved to die.”
Stillness filled the room for several moments while he stood there and stared at her. “He’d lost money, again. A bunch. He borrowed money from a loan shark. The bastard had to know Mark Bader would kill him if he couldn’t get the money to pay him back. He complained for days about his pissy life. One night he drives to Malibu. Pulls into a huge place on the coast. When the door opened, I see an older version of me. The guy slams the door in his face. By this time, I figure the guy’s related to me. Has to be. He looks exactly like me, and my old man knew him.”
Paige knew better than to push, as much as she wanted to skip to the end of the story, to the murder.
He sat down on the bed. “All my life people said I looked just like some dumb actor, but my father never mentioned he knew the guy. I figured it was just a fluke, but the old man cuts around to the side of the house. About thirty seconds later I followed. I’m real curious about this other person who’s my double, and he’s rich. After I come around the side, there’s the old man drinkin’ beer from the guy’s bottle. I hear my father threaten him. Swears he’ll tell the truth about the man’s mother.” He paused for a few seconds.
When he didn’t continue, she asked, “What happened next?”
“I had no idea what was goin’ on. The man who’s my spittin’ image told my old man to screw himself. Said he wouldn’t give him a dime and walks away from my father down the beach. I watched him stand up to my old man, something I’d never been able to do. Here I am stuck with the meanest bastard in the world, and all this time my old man’s held out on me.” He pulled a pair of gloves from his front pocket. “My old man killed women too, you know.”
She saw the gloves and panicked. Pigskin.
“I know he killed your mother in Tulsa. My guardian worked on the case. We believed he took a child, but we could never find McCall or you. You both disappeared.”
His expression changed drastically. He continued to move his head like he wanted to pop his neck in a bizarre way. She’d triggered something in him, but she didn’t know what. Surely, Trin and Buck should have arrived by now. Where the hell were they?
He stared up at her and pleaded with his eyes. His voice sounded much younger when he spoke. “Why wouldn’t you leave him? I begged you for us to go. He treated you so mean. I felt certain he’d kill you, and I was so afraid I’d get stuck with him. Why? Why couldn’t you take me and leave?” He raised his bat to his shoulder and swung.
She heard the swish and ducked. The edge caught her wig and moved it out of place. She stepped back and struggled not to stumble. She knew what he could do, and yet, she was so unprepared for his quickness.
“I don’t want to kill you. Please, don’t make me kill you.” She pulled the gun from her purse and tossed the handbag back into the corner behind her.
He stepped closer. She moved around the side of the bed but still faced him. He pursued, the Slugger clutched in his gloved hands. She stepped onto the bed and jumped over. She couldn’t let him corner her.
Desperate to stall him, she grabbed for the bedspread and yanked it in his direction. If she could trip him up, she might manage to get him handcuffed. The crack sounded loud as the club connected with her wrist. The gun flew across the other bed onto the floor by the wall. Pain zipped up her arm, so intense tears formed in her eyes. She didn’t have time to think. The piece of wood flew toward her again. She threw herself at his feet and hoped to get him on the ground. While he stood, he would continue to swing.
She landed and rolled under his feet. He fell forward, knocking his head against the bed support. She heard the thud. Their legs tangled. She scrambled and wiggled under the first bed, hoping to get to the other one where the gun lay.
He stayed quiet for a second. She turned her head and saw his dazed expression. “Damn it. I cared about you. I asked Hank about you every day. I prayed for you. I worried your father might kill you.”
“It would have been better if he did.” He moved again and came closer.
His hand found his weapon. He grabbed it and poked at her under the bed. His lucky friend slammed into her side. She scooted to the far side of the bed and moved toward the gun.
He got up, ran between the beds, and kept her trapped under the first. She scooted back to the middle, and he continued to prod at her from the edges with his weapon. After several attempts to get at her without success, he moved to the end of the bed and lifted the mattress. He threw the massive object against the wall with the window that faced the street. Quickly, he lifted the box springs, and she managed to slide and squirm under the second bed.
“You bitch!” he yelled. The unwieldy piece followed the first and landed close by.
Fear choked her, and sweat formed on her brow. She had to stop him. The second mattress lifted in his hands. She struggled to find the gun that lay against the wall. At first, she couldn’t understand why she couldn’t get a hold on it. Then she glanced toward the pistol. Bone poked through the skin, and blood flowed steadily from her wrist. Her fingers wouldn’t move no matter how hard she tried. Shit!
She repositioned herself and stretched with all her might. Her left hand searched frantically for the gun. She felt the barrel while the huge mattress landed over near the first. The second box springs rose. She turned the gun and managed to get a grip on the handle. It felt wrong in her left hand, so awkward. Finally, she got it turned in the right position to fire.
He lifted the last massive springs. She could see her enemy, but her left hand remained trapped beneath the bed frame. She worked desperately to get the gun to point up between the slats.
When the last obstacle left his hands, he grabbed his bat where it leaned on the wall and took out the wood strips in one swipe.
“I don’t want to kill you!” she screamed as the boards flew over her hand and nearly knocked the gun from it.
He pulled the club over his shoulder, muscles bulging. “You’re gonna have to, or I’m killin’ you.” He paused for a split second to give her a choice.
The door flew open with a crash and smashed into the wall. Josh fell over the bedding into the room.
She saw the killer change his focus to Josh, but the piles of bedding tripped him. Josh couldn’t get his feet under him to get back up. Everything seemed to unfold in slow motion. The young man turned, and his muscles tightened once more. The Louisville Slugger slashed through the air with deadly force.
She didn’t take time to aim. With the wrong hand, she would need a miracle to wound him. She pulled the trigger anyway. The kid’s body dropped and landed over the bed frame by the door.
30
Paige’s eyes moved to meet Josh’s gaze. The gun still shook in her left hand. “Is he dead?”
Josh reached for the carotid artery and felt for a pulse. He nodded, stared down at her hand, and sucked in a breath. Fear settled in his eyes.
She remembered the last time she’d used her gun. She’d put three bullets into the serial killer, Grant Windsor, but it didn’t keep him down for long. This time, she felt like she’d killed a little boy. If only they’d stopped Tom McCall years ago in Tulsa.
