Hollywood Prisoner: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller Read online

  “There is no need for you to make another trip,” Francesca said to me. “I can tell you what you need to know right now.”

  Francesca was a large woman, who wore a flower print dress and a headscarf. Her dark skin and accent made me think she might have some Caribbean heritage. Her voice was deep and a bit ominous, like she might actually have some connection to the spirit world.

  “You might want to sit down,” Mom said. “Francesca is known for being very direct.” She took Bernie’s leash from me. “I’ll take him for a walk and leave you two alone for a few minutes.”

  I knew that if I wanted to talk to Mom, I’d needed to hear what Francesca had to say first. Despite my best efforts, my anxiety was rising as I took a seat across from her strange friend. I settled in, taking several breaths to try and calm myself.

  Francesca studied me with a serious expression for a long moment before speaking. “You have travelled a very long road, my child. And many more await. Are you prepared for what is to come?”

  How in the hell did I end my day with a soothsayer? I swallowed and tried to keep my voice even. “I believe so.”

  “Your mother has told me about your father—both fathers, as well as your biological mother.”

  I nodded, annoyed with Mom for sharing our personal family details, but now curious what Francesca had to say. I decided to be direct with her. “Then you know I’m trying to find my biological father.”

  Her dark eyes remained fixed on me. “Your life is not about your father, my child. It is about power.”

  I studied her for a long moment. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “You are here to reclaim your power, the same power that is the right of all women.”

  What she said was surprising and made an emotional connection with me. My defenses came down, and I said, “Sometimes, I feel completely lost…”

  “Of course you feel lost. That is because you don’t understand the struggle.”

  “The struggle?”

  She reached over and took my hand. “Your struggle is not one about good and evil, it is about you as a woman, finding your inner strength and God-given goodness to do what is right in this world.”

  I took a breath, knowing in my heart she was right. “How do I....” I gulped in another breath. “How…how do I find my inner strength?”

  “You already know the answer to your question.” I had no idea what she meant until she went on. “You can only find your way back, to what is right, by first being lost.” She squeezed my hand. “And, there are a million ways to get lost in this life. We get lost in relationships, in family problems, in superficiality, and we also get lost by not accepting our responsibility to do what is right in this world. The road you have travelled has helped you understand that you cannot abdicate your responsibility. You have to find your way back, by following the path of power. It is the same path of power and goodness that resides in all women of this world.”

  I teared up as the truth about what she’d said struck home. I reached over and hugged her. “I’ll try. I promise, I’ll try.”

  We held one another for a long time. After we finally parted, I saw for the first time that Francesca had a big smile on her face. “There is one more thing I have to tell you, my child. The rest you must learn on your own.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your father is alive.”

  FORTY

  I was shocked and touched by what Francesca had told me. While she couldn’t or wouldn’t provide any details about my biological father, she assured me that it was a matter of time until I found him.

  After finishing my session, I felt uplifted and spent a few minutes with my mother, telling her about our conversation. I then asked her about Tom Knight and showed her the photograph.

  She studied the photo before handing it back to me. “I think I may have seen him with your father, once or twice, but I can’t be sure.”

  “Did daddy…” I took a moment, still trying to deal with my emotions, “…did he ever mention him?”

  “I can’t be sure. It was so long ago.” She studied me. “What Francesca said…it touched you deeply, didn’t it?”

  I nodded. “She’s very…I guess you could say intuitive.”

  Her eyes remained fixed on me. I could tell she was struggling with how to respond when she surprised me by saying. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  Her gaze drifted off. “For everything…for the way I handled things when you were a child.” She looked at me. “For not telling you the truth about your…your real mother. It was so wrong.”

  I hugged her, as tears stung my eyes. “I love you, Mom, and I…I think I understand why you…”

  “I was jealous.”

  I brushed my tears, looked into her watery eyes, and waited for her to go on.

  “I was jealous of Judie, the relationship she and your father once had. I know it was wrong, but I was also jealous that she was your biological mother.” She turned away from me and folded her arms. “I made some bad choices because of that…choices that I’ll always regret.” A deep, racking sob followed. “Oh, God, I was such a mess.” She again told me how sorry she was.

  I gave her some time to regain her composure, then said, “I think…in some ways, everything that’s happened has been for a reason. I believe what Francesca told me. I’m here to regain my power, as a woman, and do what’s right.”

  We held one another, sharing both our grief over what was lost and our happiness at connecting with one another again.

  Mom’s watery voice came back to me, saying words that I knew would stay with me for the rest of my life. “I love you, Kate. I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

  ***

  I was on my way home from Mom’s when I got a call from Natalie. “Mo and me are ‘bout to be arrested. We need your help.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “We did us one of them flash ‘n’ dash events and weren’t quite fast enough to get away. The coppers are here and they’re talkin’ ‘bout takin’ us to jail.”

  “Tell me where you are.”

  “In front of the courthouse in downtown LA.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “We’ll explain everything when you get here.”

  I was exhausted and had no desire to go to Los Angeles, but I would do anything for my friends. Luckily, traffic was light, and I made it to the courthouse in under a half hour. I found Natalie and Mo, with about thirty other women, sitting on the sidewalk. A large crowd had gathered in the street, along with some marked patrol cars and the press.

  I showed one of the officers my badge. Bernie and I then made our way over to my friends. “What’s going on?” I demanded.

  “We was trying to free that professor who was arrested,” Mo said.

  “Who?”

  Natalie answered for her. “Dr. Beth Robbins. She’s the college professor who led that protest against the judge who gave that dirty rotten rapist a ninety-day sentence. She was arrested and is still in jail.”

  I now made the connection to the case that had recently made the national news. A USC student had been raped, and her attacker was given a ridiculously light sentence. After the victim had posted a blog on the Internet about the crime and the effect it had on her, Dr. Robbins had become an outspoken critic of the judge, demanding that he be removed from the bench. She’d been arrested during a protest and had refused to post bail as a way of publicizing the case.

  “What exactly did you do?” I asked.

  “We got us a flash mob goin’,” Natalie explained. “It was based on that song from the movie Frozen.”

  Mo gave me a brief rendition of their version of the song. “We sang, let her go, let her go, then we all just sat down in the street, frozen in place.” She looked over at the officers who were huddled on the sidewalk. “They said what we did was an illegal demonstration and we’re all goin’ to jail.”

  Natalie stood and belted out, “Le
t us go…let us go.” Some other women joined in, and in a moment, the tune was being sung by all the demonstrators who stood on the sidewalk as though they were frozen in place.

  I saw that everything was being captured by the reporters as I made my way over to a lieutenant who I recognized from a training session we’d attended together. After I said hello, I explained why I was there, then asked him what was going to happen to the demonstrators.

  “We’re waiting on word from the higher-ups, but it looks like they’re all going to jail.”

  “Are you kidding me? For singing a song in the street?”

  “You know the rules. They should have gotten a permit.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”

  I walked away, angry that the department didn’t have the sense to simply send the protestors on their way and forget everything. That’s when a reporter who recognized me came over.

  “Would you care to make a statement regarding what’s going on here tonight?” Cynthia McFadden said.

  McFadden was with the Herald-Press, and, unlike most reporters, we had a good working relationship. She’d even helped me out with a source that was crucial to an investigation a few months back.

  I started to give her my standard no comment reply, when I remembered what Francesca had said earlier about finding my power. I was also sympathetic to Dr. Robbins and her protest of the outrageous sentence that had been imposed on a rapist.

  I knew there would be repercussions, but decided to say exactly what was on my mind. “These women were exercising their rights as citizens to peacefully protest what, in their opinion, was an unjust sentence for a brutal crime. They should be commended for their actions, not arrested.”

  “But isn’t this what’s called an illegal assembly?” McFadden asked. “Shouldn’t there be a consequence for that?”

  “That’s not my decision to make. All I can say is that they stood up for justice and for the rights of a victim. As far as I’m concerned, that makes them all heroes.”

  I don’t know if it was my interview, or divine intervention, or if the department, for once, had made the right call, but shortly after my interview the protestors were sent on their way, without any arrests being made.

  After everything was over, my friends and I decided to grab a late dinner at a nearby restaurant. After ordering drinks, Natalie said, “You were the bomb, Kate. You can be part of our next flash ‘n’ dash event.”

  “I doubt that’s going to happen, especially if I want to keep my job.”

  Mo hoisted her drink and said, “Here’s to doing the right thing, even when it gets you into a shitload of trouble.”

  We all clinked glasses and laughed, then spent the next hour chatting about our day. I took a few minutes and filled them in on my meeting with Francesca and told them about the conversation Mom and I had afterwards.

  “All things considered, I couldn’t be happier about the session with the psychic and me getting back with Mom,” I said.

  “I like what that Francesca woman said about power,” Mo said. “Maybe she’s right. It could be that God’s plan is for you to find your true power.”

  “Maybe that’s Her plan for all of us,” Natalie said, giggling.

  Mo hoisted her glass again. “I’ll drink to that.”

  We eventually ordered another round of drinks, and the conversation drifted to the photograph of Tom Knight that Woody and Harry had given me earlier. I showed them the photo and told them about his strange disappearance. “The detectives think he may have known Pearl and my adoptive dad. We speculated that my dad might have even shared what he knew about the embezzlement at Wallace Studios and Jean Winslow’s death with him.”

  “You think Ryland and Russell whacked him?” Natalie asked.

  “I don’t know what to think,” I said. “All I know is that it’s another piece of a very big puzzle.”

  “When you find Pearl, maybe he can tell you more,” Mo said.

  “If I find Pearl.”

  We spent a few minutes talking about their PI work and their part-time acting roles on their sit-com, Hollywood Girlz. Natalie’s plans to pay back her boyfriend for cheating on her then came up.

  “Howie’s gonna come by this week and help us plan everything,” Natalie said. “Since he’s been workin’ as one of Izzy’s assistants, he’s perfect for helpin’ me pay back Izzy.” She smiled, running a finger over the edge of her glass. “He’s also not bad to look at.”

  Mo’s wide forehead scrunched up. She looked at me. “You wanna tell her, or should I?”

  “Tell her what?”

  Mo looked at Natalie. “Kate’s decided to go with you to see that relationship therapist. She thinks it will help you both out with making good decisions.”

  I started to protest, but Mo shook her head and gave me a hard stare. She was clearly sending me a message about going with Natalie to keep her from becoming involved with Howie.

  Natalie slapped me on the back. “That’s great news, Kate. Maybe you can find a new guy and you can double date with Howie and me.”

  Mo did the world’s biggest eye roll and shook her head. “Yeah, maybe Kate can also find somebody with multiple personalities, baby sis.”

  Natalie looked at me and winked. “I got me a feelin’ it will be like havin’ sex with a different guy every time we do it.”

  “Swell,” I said, thinking about the personalities Howie had already demonstrated. “A teenage boy one night, then Norman Bates, followed by a little boy candy. What could be better?”

  FORTY-ONE

  I was getting ready for work the next morning when Joe Dawson called. “Just confirming I’ll be in your neck of the woods in a few days, Buttercup. I’m planning to fly in on Sunday. How are things with you?”

  “Working cases and trying to stay out of trouble. How’s the shoulder?”

  “Like new. I’ve been following up on a few leads regarding Mr. Moore. We definitely think he’s in the LA area, maybe with your sister.”

  My heart was beating against my ribcage as I thought about tomorrow’s meeting with the terrorist. “Los Angeles is a big city. Do you have anything more specific?”

  “I’m hoping to be able to fill in a few blanks when I get there.”

  I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, when he changed the subject. “Anything new with your father?”

  I told him about the photo of Pearl with Tom Knight. “Apparently he knew both my father and Pearl and went missing a few weeks before my dad was killed.”

  “You think there’s a connection?”

  “Not sure, but for a law enforcement officer to walk away from his patrol car in the middle of the night and never come back, something bad was definitely going on.”

  “And Pearl?”

  “Nothing new, but the department has assigned a couple of our better detectives to the investigation, so I keep hoping something will break.”

  We chatted a few minutes longer before he brought up what I decided was the real reason for his call. “I was just wondering if…” He hesitated, and I could tell he was trying to choose his words carefully. “…if you would like to have dinner Sunday night.”

  It was now my turn to hesitate. While we were friends, something in his tone told me this was different, like maybe he was asking me out on a date. I quickly dismissed the thought, deciding I was reading something into a friendly invitation that wasn’t justified.

  “Sure,” I said. “Dinner sounds great. Just text me when you get in, and we’ll make plans.”

  After the call ended, I still wasn’t sure about the dinner invitation. Joe Dawson was handsome, a good friend, and a terrific cop. We’d become close over the years, but the idea of becoming romantically involved with him had never crossed my mind. Then I remembered a few months back we’d said our goodbyes after working a case together and he’d kissed me. At the time, his intentions had seemed more than a casual sharing of affection between friends. That memory, once again, made me wonder
if he was feeling something that I wasn’t.

  I again tried to dismiss my concerns as I drove to work with Bernie. When I arrived at the station, Molly stopped by my desk and told me, “I just got some info on the Slayer case and thought you might be interested.”

  I motioned to Leo’s chair, which was empty, since he was out again. “Leo’s on medical leave with his granddaughter, so have a seat and tell me what’s going on.”

  She set some police reports in front of me and took a seat. After I filled her in on Leo’s family situation, she said, “I finally got what you’re looking at from Taft PD on that 2012 case. The victim was Valerie Quail, age twenty-three. She went missing from a shopping mall. Her body was found about ten miles from the city limits, by an abandoned building near an oil field.”

  “Her throat was slashed,” I said, glancing at the first page of the report.

  “Yes, after…” She took a moment. “It looks like there were multiple sessions of torture. She was also starved. The body was in a shallow wooden grave, similar to our subjects.”

  I sighed. “It has to be the same guy.”

  “There’s something else.” Molly motioned to the reports. “Take a look at the photographs on page twelve.”

  I glanced at the reports as she said, “A box hook was found in the desert, about a hundred yards from the victim’s body.”

  I found the images she was referring to. The metal hook was about eight inches long, with a wooden handle.

  Molly continued. “The hook had the victim’s blood on it. It was probably used to drag her or hoist her up.” She took a breath. “It’s a pretty gruesome instrument.”

  “I’ve seen similar hooks used by ranch hands to move hay bales.”

  She nodded. “It’s also called a cargo hook and is used by longshoremen. There’s even some history of city workers using similar hooks to remove manhole covers. I’ve been wondering if there might be some connection to our suspect’s line of work.”

  “It’s possible.” I took a couple more minutes, shuffling through the reports, then looked at her. “Does Edna know about this?”