Hollywood Taken Read online

“Sorry, nothing.”

  Images of my past contacts with Harlee Ryland flashed through my mind after the call ended. Harlee had come close to killing me a few weeks back. She was the last person I wanted to see, but, if it meant finding out about Daniel, and maybe even by bio-dad, I would to talk to her.

  I heard Natalie and Mo stirring, saying something to Mattie, as I made a call to the department’s Human Trafficking Unit. I got a detective named Walt Goddard on the line, who I’d talked to before.

  “My call is on the QT,” I told Goddard, “since I’m on loan to a police department up north for a couple weeks. But I wanted to follow up on that case I mentioned. We think Anna Levkin’s death might have some connections to the Russian sex trafficking ring that we talked about.”

  “Your timing is good,” Goddard said. “We have a CI working the streets who’s confirmed their actively recruiting girls, including illegals.”

  “And, I assume, their targeting illegals because they can be manipulated under the threat of being reported to ICE and deported?”

  “You got it.”

  “Did you get anything specific about Levkin being targeted?”

  “No, but our CI is on the inside. We’ve given him her name, so, if we get something, you’ll be my first call.”

  I thanked Goddard and told him to be sure and stay in touch. I then got Olivia on the line and updated her, adding, “HTU said their CI has infiltrated the sex ring, so I asked them to let me know what they find out about Anna Levkin.”

  Olivia made some notes about my call, then said, “When you get back in town, I think we should go back to APN, the placement agency for our victim.”

  I sighed. “I don’t suppose you can do that now. I’m not sure when I’ll get back there.”

  “Byrd has me on a short leash so I doubt it. How’s your case?”

  “We know our victim is, or maybe was, alive. She’s been moved, so we’re hoping something will break soon.”

  “Make it happen. Jessica’s wearing on me.”

  “That bad?”

  “Let’s just say that I end each day with a giant headache.”

  After commiserating with Olivia for a couple minutes, I ended the call and saw that my friends were in the living room with Mattie. As I walked over, I realized they were arguing.

  “Last night was the final straw,” Mo said to Mattie. “I’ll even drive you to the airport.”

  “I think it’s time you went back to England,” Natalie agreed.

  “Nonsense,” Mattie said. “I’m thinking about having another party at Highclere Castle.” She stood. “I’d better go pick out a dress.”

  When she was gone, Mo rubbered her temples, that his morning were beneath a purple wig. “I don’t think I can take any more, baby sis,” she told Natalie. “We gotta do something.”

  Natalie’s hazel eyes brightened. “I just had me a pipi-fantasy.” I knew she meant epiphany as she went on. “I know your Uncle Fred could use some help with the rent on his new place. Maybe me auntie could stay with him.”

  Mo perked up. “Do you think she would agree to it?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Natalie looked at me. “What do you think?”

  I think you’re out of your mind. I suppressed what I was thinking and stood. “I’ve got to get ready for work, but, if Fred and Mattie agree, go for it.”

  When I arrived at the police station I saw a media van was in the parking lot and remembered that Wade and I had an interview with Jordan Knight this morning. The timing of having to deal with the reporter was especially bad, since we now knew our victim was likely still alive and we needed to work the case.

  As Wade and I walked to a conference room where for the interview, I said, “Since this is your case, I’ll let you take the lead.”

  He smiled. “Thanks, but that’s like sending me to the front of the firing squad.”

  Jordan Knight was around forty, with dark hair and even darker eyes. He was overly polite and solicitous, as the interview began. While a camera crew shot video, he asked some general questions about Faith Winslow’s disappearance and compared our case with other’s that he’d reported on and took credit for helping solve. Wade did a good job of providing an overview, while leaving out pertinent details.

  As the interview wore on, Jordan’s demeanor and his intentions became clear when he asked Wade, “Why hasn’t your department been more proactive in working this case? It’s my understanding, the investigation has been cut to the bare bones.” He looked at me. “And, now you’ve called in an outsider.”

  Wade did his best to defend his department, before telling Knight, “We have crime scene staff actively working a scene as I speak.”

  “You mean, the mine in the mountains where Faith was held prisoner, less than five miles from where she was last see, while your department did nothing?”

  I saw a sheen of perspiration rising on my partner’s forehead as he tried to keep his voice even. “That’s not true. We’ve pursued several leads that we’re actively following up on.”

  “What kind of leads?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say, but we feel like we’re making excellent progress.”

  Knight looked at me. “Are you working this case because you’ve had some past marginal success with LAPD?”

  I did my best to ignore his disparaging comment. “I’m here at the request of the chief of police to assist with the investigation.”

  “Is that really true, or were you sent away because Harlee Ryland was headed back to Los Angeles and may have been targeting you?”

  It was my turn to keep my voice even. “I can’t comment on an active investigation.”

  “But, it’s my understanding the investigation is no longer active. Ms. Ryland is in custody.”

  “That may be true...”

  Knight cut me off, his dark eyes drilling into me. “Let’s talk about your brother, Daniel. My sources tell me that the Rylands may have had some involvement in his disappearance.”

  I had no idea how he knew about Daniel and was livid that someone had leaked that information. Despite that, I was determined to remain calm. “No comment.”

  “Why can’t you comment? People have been murdered by the Rylands. Their survivors have a right to know what’s been going on.”

  “All I can say is that, since Harlee Ryland is in custody, I believe the threat she posed is now significantly lessened.”

  “So, you say. It sounds like you’re just making excuses. Let’s talk about your family history with the Rylands.”

  “No,” I said firmly, still keeping my voice even. “We’re here to discuss the disappearance of Faith Winslow, nothing else.”

  “I don’t understand...”

  Knight’s words were cut off by the chief of police, Ronna Howard, who I knew had been watching the interview via closed circuit TV.

  “I do understand,” Howard said, coming into the room and sitting across from Knight. The chief was a thin African-American woman, around fifty, someone who didn’t lack for command presence. “You are taking this interview in a direction that was not authorized and you’re accusing my department of incompetence.”

  Knight protested. “That’s not true...”

  “Of course, it isn’t true,” Howard said. “We’re extremely competent and making excellent progress in our investigation as these detectives have repeatedly told you.” She stood. “Now, please remove both your presence and camera crew from these offices, or I’ll have you escorted out.”

  After we left the conference room, the chief met with Wade and me, expressing her regret at agreeing to the interview and expressing her complete support of our efforts. After she left, I told Wade, “It must be nice to have the support of your administrators.”

  He agreed, adding, “Chief Howard is the best person I’ve ever worked for, bar none.”

  Wade and I then met with Lieutenant Sutton in his office, who informed us that he’d just received the CCTV video from the toll booth on the Go
lden Gate Bridge.

  “I think you’ll find this very interesting,” Sutton said, turning his laptop in our direction.

  We watched as footage of Darren Larsen’s car was shown on multiple occasions leaving the toll booth and heading north, out of the city. The video went back several years, and included footage of Larsen heading out of the city on the day Faith Winslow went missing.

  After we’d made notes of all the dates Larsen had gone over the bridge, Sutton said, “Now for the good part.” He took his laptop and made a couple of clicks, then turned it back in our direction. “This is from a traffic camera on Jefferson and 2nd Street that leads into Napa. As you can see we have video of Larsen’s car coming here on several occasions. Many of the dates coincide with him leaving San Francisco, including the day Faith disappeared.”

  After Wade and I made notes of the dates he was in the city, Sutton said, “I’m going to put a BOLO out for Larsen. We don’t have proof that he was involved in what happened to Faith, but he’s obviously got a lot to explain.”

  Wade and I left the lieutenant, went back to the office we shared, and discussed what we had.

  I looked at the dates I’d written down and said to Wade, “Darren Larsen was in the city on almost a dozen occasions over the past six years.”

  “You think he was seeing our victim?”

  “If he was, they had a steady thing going.” I studied the dates again. “I still think we’re missing something.”

  “As in?”

  I leaned back in my chair, my gaze moving off. “Not sure.” I looked back at him. “Do you think Larsen could have been stalking Faith.”

  “Maybe. They were college sweethearts, before she left him for Jack.”

  I remembered that Faith had taught classes at her gym. “Can I take another look at the CCTV footage from Napa Fitness Center?”

  Wade brought out his laptop. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Just wondering if Larsen’s car was ever in the parking lot there.”

  I spent the next hour, pouring over the video from the fitness center, but didn’t see any sign of Larsen’s car. I replayed the video of Faith parking, then leaving the lot on multiple occasions when something caught my eye. I showed the video to Wade.

  “There,” I said, pointing to the screen. “By my count, there are at least eight occasions when Faith arrives at the gym and this black BMW sedan leaves. Can we run the plate?”

  “Of course, let me call dispatch.”

  After a couple minutes, he made a note on his pad, and ended the call, telling me, “The car’s registered to Melody Evans. It might be that Faith took over her classes and Evans took a break.”

  “Maybe, but she also left the fitness center shortly after Faith did on the day she went missing.”

  I studied the images for a couple minutes, then asked Wade, “Do we have any video of the street outside Jack’s restaurant?”

  “Yeah, we looked at it several times, but nothing was out of the ordinary.”

  “Let me take a look.”

  I spent the next half hour, comparing the video when Evans left her gym to that of the street outside Jack’s Place, then told Wade what I’d found.

  “Melody Evans was at the restaurant on three occasions after she left the gym shortly after Faith arrived there.”

  Wade smiled. “I’d say that amounts to a nugget.”

  “I’d say it’s a great big nugget. Let’s go have a chat with Ms. Evans.”

  Wade and I called the Napa Fitness Center and learned that Melody Evans hadn’t shown up for work. We then called her cell number, but the calls went to voice mail. We then drove to Evans’s upscale condominium complex, but found she wasn’t at home.

  “You think she knows were onto something?” Wade asked me as we left the complex and walked to our car.

  “Maybe,” I said, feeling frustrated. We were on the verge of breaking something loose but hitting lots of roadblocks. “The receptionist at the fitness center said it’s not like Evans to miss her classes.”

  We stopped at our car as Wade’s phone chimed. After he answered, I could tell the call was from the station’s dispatch center.

  “You’re sure the victim matches his description?” Wade said, in response to what he’d been told. He listened for a moment longer, then said, “Got it. We’re on our way.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked as he put his phone in his pocket.

  “There’s a homicide victim at the Crossroads Hotel, just outside of town. They think it’s Darren Larsen.”

  FORTY-SIX

  As Wade and I walked through the parking lot of the Crossroads Hotel, I immediately recognized the Mercedes-Maybach sedan from the license plate number and the traffic-cam videos I’d watched all morning.

  “It’s Larsen’s car,” I told Wade. “There’s no doubt about it.”

  “This case keeps getting uglier,” he said. “But, other than being Faith’s former boyfriend hooking up with her again, I don’t get Larsen’s connection.”

  “Let’s see what we have inside and take things from there.”

  We found Larsen’s body in a second story room where the responding officers had preserved the scene.

  “Looks like a single shot to the chest,” an officer named Hawkins told Wade.

  “Did anybody hear or see anything?” Wade asked.

  “A guest down the hall heard the shot and came outside his room. He said he saw a man leaving in a hurry, but didn’t get a description.”

  After Wade and I examined the body and took a cursory look at the scene, we went downstairs and asked the hotel manager about security video.

  “It runs on a continuous loop,” the manager said. “I can show you.”

  He took us into a backroom where he accessed the security system. After asking what time period we were interested in viewing, it took him a few minutes to find our suspect entering the hotel lobby.

  “Can you enlarge that?” Wade asked, after asking the manager to freeze the image.

  We waited for him to magnify the video, but I already knew who had walked through the hotel lobby to the elevators.

  Wade made the announcement when the enlarged image of our suspect appeared on the monitor.

  “There’s no doubt about it,” Wade said. “Darren Larsen was murdered by Jack Winslow.”

  ***

  After spending the rest of our day processing the crime scene and having no luck location Jack Winslow, I got home a little after six. I showered and changed into pants and a silk blouse, then found my friends on the patio, toasting to their new found freedom.

  “We sent baby sis’s aunt packin’,” Mo said. “But I got a feeling your gonna have another homicide in Hollywood.”

  “Me auntie called about an hour ago, saying she and Mo’s Uncle Fred were ‘bout to come to blows,” Natalie said. “I’m ‘fraid it isn’t goin’ to work out.”

  “If it doesn’t, I would suggest you send her back to Birmingham,” I said. “We’ve had our fill of house guests for a while.”

  After telling me that they were leaving for Hollywood in the morning, Mo mentioned that she’d heard Darren Larsen had been murdered. “I’m willing to bet the farm, or maybe the winery, that Jack Winslow did it as payback for Larsen cheating with his wife.”

  “Did he blow his pecker off?” Natalie asked. “I heard that jealous lovers like to aim for the love spuds.”

  “I can’t say,” I said. “All I know is that our case is getting increasingly complicated.”

  “That reporter’s none too happy with you or the chief,” Mo told me.

  “Was he on the news?”

  She nodded. “He said Faith Winslow’s probably buried in the hills somewhere and the police department is to blame for not finding her.”

  I sighed. “Great.” I checked the time on my phone, seeing it was almost seven. “I’m having dinner with Dave Turner tonight, so I’ll catch up with you in the morning before you leave.”

  I had to endure s
everal comments about my hormone levels finally being on the rise, as well as cat calls and comments about my vagina coming out of drydock before I left.

  After the short walk to Dave’s house, I found him and his dog on his terrace. I stopped for a moment, catching my breath and taking in the scene. The beautiful setting had a mystical glow, with the sun painting the seemingly endless hillsides covered with vineyards in hues of crimson and gold. Above, the vine covered terrace, I saw the first stars of nightfall beginning to shine overhead. There was a table, filled with flowers and illuminated with candles. It occurred to me that, under different circumstances, the setting would have made the perfect venue for a wedding.

  I stepped forward, feeling a little like I’d entered a fantasy land and Dave was the prince of this magical place. I stopped in front of him, seeing that he was more formally dressed than usual, wearing slacks and a sports coat. Cruz stepped forward and I greeted him.

  Dave then smiled and took my hand, setting off a spark in me that I hadn’t expected. He took in the surroundings. “What do you think?”

  “I think this is probably the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.” I again took in the table filled with flowers and saw there were also several bottles of wine there. I looked back at him. “Thank-you for doing this.”

  He released my hand, motioning to a couple of chairs that had had been set up with a view of his vineyards. “Let’s take a seat. You might be surprised, but I’ve also got a little wine for us.”

  I laughed. “No kidding?”

  He brought over a bottle of Merlot and served us each as glass as we settled in.

  “This is from a private collection, bottled by my dad about twenty years ago,” Dave said, as Cruz settled in next to his chair. We clinked glasses. “Cheers.”

  I returned the greeting and tasted the offering. “This is amazing,” I said, referring to the Merlot. “Did your dad own the vineyard for a long time.”

  He nodded. “It was his passion. He planted and personally tended to every grapevine that you see.”

  I took in the vine covered hills. “It’s a wonderful legacy.”

  He smiled, his green eyes fixing on me. “And your dad, did he have a legacy, other than leaving behind a beautiful daughter.”