Hollywood Taken Read online

  I chuckled. “Thanks, but, you’ve already heard the story of my family. It’s a little...complicated.”

  “Isn’t that the way things sometimes go?” His gaze moved off and he cleared his throat. “I want to apologize again about the way I’ve handled things the last couple of times we’ve talked.”

  “It’s not necessary...”

  “It is.” He blinked several times, taking a breath. “The truth is, I’ve kept things to myself that should have been said a long time ago. I’m ready to talk, if you’re ready to listen.”

  I reached over and thought his arm. “I’m ready.”

  He smiled. “Let’s finish our wine and have dinner first. I made us salad and a lasagna.”

  “Wow, you’re also a gourmet cook.”

  “You’ve better reserve judgment until you’ve eaten.”

  After finishing our wine, we went over to the table where we ate and chatted about Dave’s life on the winery and my life in Hollywood.

  As we ate, I told him about my friends and some of their past antics, including a couple of their flash ‘n dash escapades and their upcoming BS Challenge for charity.

  He laughed and said, “With friends like yours, you never need any other form of entertainment. They sound like fun.”

  “The can be both fun and challenging at times, but they’re like my sisters. I don’t know what I’d ever do without them.”

  “I had a couple friends like that.” His eyes became unfocused. “A long time ago.”

  There was a pause in the conversation before I said, “I was right about you being a gourmet. The food was delicious.”

  “Thanks, I manage. Let’s take another bottle of wine over to the chairs so I can tell you my story, the one that seems like I’ve waited a lifetime to tell someone.”

  After I took a seat overlooking the vineyards again and Dave brought over the wine, he settled in with Cruz at his side. We clinked glasses again. “To grateful hearts and...” He paused, maybe thinking about both my background and his, adding, “...and to survivors.”

  Dave Turner then set his glass down, fixed his eyes on the darkening sky, and said something I never expected. “There’s something you need to know. You’re sitting next to a killer.”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  As Dave began telling me the story of his two tours in Iraq, I braced myself, not knowing exactly what to expect or what he meant by being a killer. As he spoke, I had the sense that he’d travelled back in time to the war and the days that would forever define his life.

  “There’s a street in Fallujah that in the fall of 2004 was controlled by insurgents,” Dave began. “I was part of the army’s Second Brigade. Our assignment was to eventually take back control of the area and defend it so that it could eventually be controlled by the Iraqi army and resettled by the civilian population. That eventually happened, but the cost was something I was never prepared for.”

  I gave him a moment, voicing my support for him to continue. Cruz came over, maybe sensing what was happening. He placed his head in Dave’s lap as he went on.

  “Preparations for the battle to retake the city were fragged out. It was a complicated, intensive process, with too many moving parts to mention. The battle for the city went on for several weeks. It became a street by street battle in some cases, costing the lives of dozens of our guys. The defining moment for me came when our squad burst into a building and came under machine-gun fire.

  “We lost several guys before we eventually took up positions on the roof of the building. Over the next few days, we realized there was a family living in the basement of the place; a husband, his wife, and their daughter, Saya. We did our best to try to get them to leave, but, the truth was, it wasn’t safe to be out on the street either.”

  He took several breaths, his eyes losing focus. “Over the next few days, Saya and I grew close. She was about seven and, despite her surroundings, she was a great kid, full of life. I brought the family some rations and water whenever I could, and basically tried to keep them alive in a place that was a living hell.”

  I saw that his eyes were misting over as he paused to regain control.

  “It’s okay,” I said, softening my tone. “Take your time.”

  After a couple more deep breaths, he went on. “The battle on the street grew more intense over the next few days. There were several firefights and we became pinned down. The fighting raged most of one night before I finally managed to get a couple hours of shuteye. That’s when I heard an explosion from somewhere in the building below us.” Dave’s glassy eyes met me. “It was Saya’s family. Someone had managed to get inside the building and used a grenade. Her mother and father were killed.

  I took a breath, asking the question I dreaded. “And Saya?”

  His expression became more solemn. I had the impression that his trauma had sealed away his emotions as he went on. “She was taken out into the street and released between our guys and the insurgents.” He looked at me. “They used her to try and flush us out of our positions.”

  I gave voice to what I thought might have happened. “And, they eventually shot her?”

  He nodded. “Yes, but...” He took a breath. “It was one bullet at a time, being careful not to kill her. Her screaming and the torture went on for hours.”

  “She was used as bait.”

  “Yes, it was the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen. It lasted most of the day.”

  I reached over and took his hand, blinking back tears. “How did it end?”

  He drew in a watery breath. “One of our guys snapped and said he was going to end her suffering. I followed him over to the side of the building.” His misty eyes found me. “I stood there watching as he shot and killed Saya.”

  There was a long silence, only broken by the soft whimper of the dog that rested his head in Dave’s lap. I reached over and ran a hand over Cruz’s big head.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, trying to meet his glassy eyes. “But there was nothing you could have done.”

  He took a breath and released it slowly. “I’m not so sure. I’ve relived that scene every day of my life since it happened.” He looked at me. “War is a terrible thing, not understood by the men that set it in place, but the death of a child...” He brushed the tears from his eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, her blood is on my hands and I can never wash it off.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  My evening with Dave lasted well into the night. I knew it had been therapeutic for him to talk about the war, but that the trauma of those events might never leave him. I encouraged him to see a counsellor to continue to process what happened. He said he would consider doing that, but credited me with helping him break through and talk about the war. I didn’t know how much longer I had in Napa, but we agreed to see one another before I went back to Hollywood.

  I got the third degree from my friends over coffee and muffins the next morning while they packed up to leave.

  After hearing Dave’s story, Natalie said, “The bloke sounds like he needs some bedroom therapy to me. Maybe you should take things to the next level.”

  “Pillow talk and psychotherapy sounds good to me,” Mo agreed. She slurped her coffee, then said, “Well, maybe just the pillow part.”

  “We’re still getting to know one another,” I said. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.” I purposely changed the subject. “How is Mattie doing?”

  “The coppers were called to Fred’s place last night,” Natalie said.

  “Don’t tell me they got into a fight.”

  “It was more like a scrum. From what I know, Mattie talked Fred into dancing on his balcony and they ended up doing it right there. Somebody saw what was going on and thought Fred was trying to murder her.”

  “Guess they never seen an eighty-something guy trying to pork the Queen of England,” Mo said.

  I decided not to mince words. “Maybe it’s time you send Mattie back home.”

  “I’ll talk to her when we get back.” S
he must have seen my concern. “Don’t worry, I won’t bring her back to our place.”

  My friends had been watching TV and I saw that Mo was watching a news program. “What’s the latest?” I asked.

  She looked at me, scratching her pink wig. “You really wanna know?”

  I realized Jordan Knight was on the screen. “What’s he saying?”

  “He’s blaming you guys for that Larsen’s guy’s murder.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous.”

  “He said if you’d been working the case, it never would have happened.”

  I walked over to the sink and poured my coffee out. “I’d better get to work. See you both back in Hollywood.”

  ***

  After meeting with Chief Howard and Lieutenant Sutton to update them on our case, the murder of Darren Larsen, and the negative press coverage, Wade and I made the drive to Jack Winslow’s house. We were followed by a handful of other detectives and patrol units to assist us in executing a search warrant on Jack Winslow’s house. The property and his restaurant had been under surveillance all night, along with Melody Evan’s condo, but there had been no sign of him, Evans, or his children.

  After exercising caution and making entry with our guns drawn, we cleared the house in a matter of minutes and began searching. We didn’t find anything of interest, until Wade came out of the master bedroom with a leather-bound file in his hands.

  Wade sat the binder on a table in the kitchen and explained what he’d found. “This is copy of some trust paperwork. Apparently, Faith’s father passed away a couple years ago and left his entire estate in trust to her to be used exclusively for his grandson.”

  “Owen?” I said.

  He nodded. “It’s close to five million dollars.” He turned to some pages at the back of the binder. “Now for the interesting part. This is an unsigned codicil that transfers the entire trust from Faith to Jack in the event of her death.”

  I examined the documents, then said, “Let’s take a minute and go over what we know.”

  Wade began laying out the facts. “About a week ago, Faith Winslow goes missing. She was last seen at the Napa Fitness Center before taking a drive up into the hills. She’d taught classes at the gym, with its owner, Melody Evans.”

  I took over. “We now know that Evans was seen leaving the gym on several occasions shortly after Faith arrived. She went to Jack Winslow’s restaurant on at least three of those occasions.”

  “She also left the gym shortly after Faith did on the day she went missing.”

  “There’s also the matter of Faith’s college boyfriend, Darren Larsen. When they were in college, he battered her after his best friend Jack Winslow stole her away from him. Larsen had been in Napa several times in the intervening years, including the day Faith went missing.”

  “And yesterday, he ends up murdered at the Crossroads Hotel. The security cameras show the And Jack entered the lobby shortly before Larsen’s death.”

  I crossed my arms and glanced at the legal paperwork again. I turned to the last page, seeing that it had been prepared by the law firm of Harrison and Evans.

  I showed it to Wade, saying, “What do you think the odds are that Mr. Evans is related to Melody?”

  He smiled. “Maybe we should buy a lottery ticket. Let me give him a call.”

  While Wade called the attorney, I went back into the master bedroom. I searched the shelf where the legal binder had been found. It took a moment to move some sweaters that were stacked there, before I came across a rolled piece of parchment paper. I brought the paperwork into the kitchen where Wade had finished his call.

  “It seems that Mr. Henry Evans is out of the office for the rest of the week,” Wade said. “But his secretary did confirm that he’s Melody’s brother.”

  “Small world,” I said, unrolling the parchment.

  “What have you got?”

  “I’m not sure.” I studied the paper for a moment, realizing it was a hand drawn map, with several markings.

  “That’s a small town north of Napa,” Wade said. His finger traced a line that ran south, then cut in another direction. “That’s strange.”

  “What is it?”

  “It looks...” He studied the map again before looking up at me. “I think these could be mining locations.” He pointed to the map again. “I think this is close to the place in the hills where Faith was being held.”

  My voice pitched higher. “What about the other areas?”

  “Not sure.” He went back to studying the map, saying, “The Narrows.”

  “What?”

  He tapped a finger on the map. “Dempsey Narrows. It’s an abandoned mining camp. Guys I work with said they used to go up there as kids and hang out.”

  “Could Faith have been taken there?”

  His shoulders lifted. “Hard to say. It’s a good twenty miles from the mine shaft where she was being held.”

  I rolled up the map. “Let’s go take a look.”

  “You sure. It’s pretty far up in the hills.”

  I held on his eyes. “You have a better idea?”

  He shook his head. “Let’s roll.”

  FORTY-NINE

  I soon learned that Dempsey Narrows was named after a man named Earl Dempsey who had mined the hills outside of Napa in the early 1900’s. It was reached by a narrow, winding road that took us two hours to traverse. When we finally reached the site, my hopes of finding Faith Winslow began to wane.

  “Not much to see after all these years,” Wade said. “Looks like they’ve had some heavy rains that have washed out all the buildings.”

  The buildings he was referring to were now piles of brush, rocks, and wood that had collapsed over the years. We went over, surveying what was left of the buildings, realizing it had long since been abandoned.

  “Waste of time?” Wade said, glancing at me.

  I took in the high cliffs and sandy rocks that made up the place Earl Dempsey had called The Narrows. “Maybe. I’m going to take a walk, just the same.”

  We split up, Wade walking back down the winding dirt road, while I went back to our car and got a bottle of water before going over to some cliffs. I saw there were cut outs, probably places where the miners had once made primitive shelters, the sandy rock held at bay by weathered, heavy beams. That’s when I heard the moaning. It was soft, barely audible.

  “Is somebody there?” I called out.

  Silence.

  I called out again, then held my breath, listening.

  “Heerrree...”

  “Where are you?” I yelled, scrambling over to where I thought the voice had come from.

  “Dowwnnn...herree...”

  I called over to Wade before moving some boards back. I realized there was a heavy metal door that led inside a carved-out section of the hillside.

  When Wade came over, I said, “We need to find something to pry the door open.”

  “Let me see what’s in the trunk of my car. Be right back.”

  While he was gone, I called out, saying, “We’re going to get you out. Are you Faith?”

  There was no response. I tried again but got nothing back. Wade then arrived with a tire iron. It took him several tries, but the steel door finally swung open. He used his flashlight, shining it into the interior of the small, damp room. The light illuminated some wooden steps that led down to a dirt floor.

  “She’s chained to the wall,” he said, before heading down the steps.

  In seconds we were both a woman’s side. I held up the bottle of water and offered it to the ravaged woman who appeared near death. She moved her lips, drinking in the life-giving liquid.

  I moved the bottle back, not wanting her to choke. I then said, “Tell me your name, sweetheart.”

  She worked her lips and whispered a name that made my heart soar.

  “Fa...faith,” she said weakly. “My name...is Faith.”

  FIFTY

  Wade and I managed to get Faith Winslow out of her makeshift prison and
transport her to a deserted section of open highway. While we waited for a medevac helicopter to land, I gave her first aid and attended to her injuries. After giving her water and using a compress on a deep cut to her head, she was able to tell us some of what had happened.

  “It was Jack. He was...” She swallowed, her throat and lips still dry from her ordeal. “I think he and Melody Evans wanted Owen’s trust fund. Her brother held me captive...he wanted me to sign some papers...I refused.” Her sallow eyes found me. “Are my children okay?”

  I glanced at Wade, then looked back at her. “We’re not sure where they are. Jack has gone missing, along with the children.”

  Her voice became shill. “Missing?” She clamped onto my arm. “You’ve got to find them.”

  “We will.” I brushed the hair from her eyes as she began to cry. “Do you have any idea where he might have taken them?”

  Through a veil of tears, she shook her head. Then something came to her, “Maybe Timber Cove.”

  “Where?”

  “Jack’s family...they have a cabin there. It’s on the beach.”

  Wade and I saw the medevac helicopter coming up the valley. He went over and began waving his arms to signal where we were.

  I looked back at Faith. “We’ll find the children, I promise. But I need you to tell me something.”

  Her blue eyes held on me and she nodded.

  “Darren Larsen,” I said, not wanting to tell her that he was dead. “Tell me about your relationship with him.”

  The helicopter was overhead now and I had to bend closer to hear her watery voice over the thump of rotor blades. What she said explained everything that had happened since she went missing.

  “I was still in love with him, and...”

  “And what?” I asked as her words were drowned out.

  She said something, but the helicopter landed, the wash and noise from its rotor blades making it impossible to hear.

  ***

  After Faith was transported to the hospital for treatment, I told Wade that Jack might have taken the children to the coast. “His family has a cabin in some place called Timber Cover.”