Hollywood Forbidden: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller Page 25

  “Maybe.” The past cases I’d worked flashed through my mind. “From my experience there’s usually some kind of trauma or past event that triggers this kind of madness. I think there’s something we’re still missing.”

  We were on the sidewalk in front of Lucia’s condominium complex when Buck’s phone rang. Bernie and I checked out a flower bed while he took the call. We were a few feet away from him but I could still hear his side of the conversation.

  “I’m sorry to hear that…okay whatever you decide is fine by me…you know you’re always welcome, hon.” He ended the call and turned back to me. “Ready?”

  I nodded but didn’t say anything. It was obvious from what I’d heard that he’d been talking to a woman. I thought about asking him if the call was from his ex-wife but decided against it. There was also the possibility that he was talking to a girlfriend. A wave of depression swept through me as we knocked on Lucia’s door.

  “I haven’t seen her in a couple of days,” we heard a woman say from somewhere below us. I looked over the railing and saw that she was standing outside her front door on the first floor as she went on, “I’m a little worried. She’s usually coming and going at all hours.”

  “Is there a building superintendent?” I asked. “Someone who might let us inside?”

  “You the police?” I nodded. “Thought so. First floor. Unit 101.”

  I thanked her and a few minutes later, after showing our credentials to the super, we were let inside Carly’s penthouse suite. We immediately saw the blood trail as we stepped over the threshold. I drew my gun and told the superintendent to wait outside.

  “Got a feeling this is going to be bad,” Buck said as we moved through the living room. We saw that the blood led from the master bedroom down the hallway to the front door. Bernie let out a soft whine when we entered the bedroom.

  Carly Lucia was nude, lying face up on the bed. Her throat had been slashed in the same manner as the girl’s we’d found on the Garrett Ranch. There was blood everywhere, contrasting with the white bedspread, furnishings, and walls.

  Buck put his gun away and sighed. “Whoever did this got in the blood and tracked it through the place before he left.”

  I glanced over at the master bath. I took a couple of steps toward the open door and saw there was some writing on the bathroom mirror. I motioned for Buck to come over. The word was written in blood in capital letters.

  WHORE

  “Let’s get some crime people over here,” I said, feeling the bile rising in my throat as my phone rang. I walked over to the sliding glass door and went out on the balcony to take the call. The afternoon was warm, not a trace of the fog we’d had a couple of days earlier. I took a moment, inhaling the salty air and trying to clear my mind before answering the call.

  “It’s your favorite undertaker and lawyer,” I heard Peter Roth say.

  The thought crossed my mind to say something about needing another coffin, but I was in no mood to make jokes. “What can I do for you, Mr. Roth?”

  “Peter, please.” I waited before he went on. “I finally got that list of names of the summer beach lifeguards from the park ranger who runs the program. There’s one name on the list that I thought might be of some interest to you.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “It’s Clay Aster’s legal assistant’s son. His name is Joey Quinton.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Grace takes a step back, starts to run, but Joey’s hand reaches out and grabs her by the hair. He yanks her over to him. His features are twisted, angry with rage, as he pulls her closer until she’s inches from his face.

  “I’ve heard you’ve been making a little trouble for my friends. That simply can’t be tolerated. I’m afraid you’re going to have to pay a price for this, Grace—a big price.

  “Please, let me go.”

  He pulls her over to the cab of the truck, pushes her inside, holding her down against the seat by her hair. “Don’t try and fight me. We’ll be at the house in a minute, then you can deal with Priest and Lamech.” He starts the truck, puts the transmission into gear.

  Panic overwhelms Grace. She knows that if Joey takes her to the house she’ll be killed. She realizes that she has only seconds to save herself. Her gaze moves around the dirty cab of the older model truck. She sees that Joey has cigarettes and a lighter. There’s also a cell phone. If she can get the phone away…

  Joey pulls tighter on her hair, maybe sensing that she’s planning something. She yells, begging him to release her. He loosens his grip, just a bit. Then she sees it. There’s a pen lying on the open compartment beneath the radio. She knows that she has only one chance.

  Grace reaches over and grabs the pen, at the same time pulling back and breaking away from his grip. A rage explodes as she thinks about Joey and the men who have taken the girls. She grips the pen with both hands, raises it up, and brings it down in an arc, aiming for Joey’s face.

  Joey shrieks in pain at the same time blood spurts from his face. Grace realizes she’s hit him in the eye. Blood pulses from the wound as the cab fills with the smell of iron. The truck swerves wildly, skids off the dirt road, and slams to a stop against a tree.

  Grace is thrown against the dashboard. She’s lightheaded, disoriented.

  “You fucking little whore,” Joey screams, at the same time reaching up and removing the pen from his eye. He reaches out for her but at the last second Grace opens the passenger door and scrambles away.

  Joey comes out of the truck behind her, screaming in pain, the blood still streaming down his face. There’s so much blood that Grace realizes her pursuer can’t see.

  There’s a roar. Somewhere in the distance Grace hears the now familiar high-pitched sound of an engine revving. It’s a motorcycle. It’s coming up the road toward them, closing rapidly.

  The truck. Grace knows she has to get back inside the truck. It’s her only chance.

  She scrambles over to the driver’s side, gets in, and locks the doors. Joey begins pounding on the window, his bloody prints smearing the glass. The roar of the motorcycle is louder now. Grace turns the key and the engine starts. She’s never driven before and isn’t sure what to do.

  She sees the gearshift and knows that she has to find reverse but isn’t sure about the pattern. There’s a grinding sound as the truck lurches forward then stalls. She shifts the lever, finding neutral and turns the key again.

  Now she remembers. One of the administrators at a group home where she lived had a truck. There’s a sequence, a pattern that she memorized. You have to put in the clutch, then engage the transmission. After another stop and start, Grace finds reverse and hits the gas.

  The truck lurches backward, knocking Joey to the ground. The gears grind again as she works the gearshift. Then she hears the sound of glass shattering. It sprays into the cab. She turns, realizing that Joey is on the truck’s running board and has a rock in his hand.

  Grace pushes the truck into gear, stomping on the accelerator. Joey flies off the cab onto the ground again. The truck engine roars and she finds second gear. Then she looks into the mirror, her heart sinking. It’s the motorcycle.

  She thinks it’s Priest. The engine is screaming louder now, until the motorcycle is right beside her. Then she realizes something else.

  Priest has a gun!

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  I noticed a marked patrol unit arriving at Carly Lucia’s condo complex as I ended my call with Peter Roth. Buck joined me and Bernie on the balcony, probably also needing a break from the bloody crime scene.

  “I just got off the phone with Roth. He got that list of names for the lifeguards at the harbor. Hal Quinton’s son, Joey, is on the list.”

  “The lifeguard job would give the kid a lot of access to girls. I think we should go back and have a talk with him.”

  We arranged for the uniformed cops to provide security until the CSI team arrived and then headed for the car. My phone rang again. It was Natalie.

  �
�Mo, Sammy, and me are downtown, Kate. We’re at a little bar called, The Bluefin, where Sammy found out that dirty wanker Caldwell sometimes hangs out. The barkeep’s got some information I think you should know about if you can stop by.”

  I told Buck what she’d said. He nodded, said the bar was on the way to Quinton’s house. “We can be there in about five minutes, Natalie.”

  The Blue Fin was a small bar a block from the harbor near Crescent Avenue. The establishment was dark. It smelled like beer, sweat, and a pine cleaning solvent a janitor was using on the floor near the bar. It was still early in the day. There was a scattering of customers playing pool and an older couple at the bar getting an early start on drowning their sorrows.

  We found my friends and Sammy with Hal Garth, the owner of the Blue Fin. Garth was about fifty with a fine dusting of powdery silver hair on his head and face, button-sized earrings, and an eye patch. After introductions, the bartender told us everyone just called him Garth.

  “That Caldwell bloke’s a regular here,” Natalie said. “Stops by once a week or so.”

  Garth, the bartender, confirmed that. “He goes by the name Priest. I think it has something to do with his beliefs.”

  “What can you tell us about that?” I asked.

  “We had a little chat over a beer a couple of months back. We were talking about the island and his motorcycle gang before the conversation took a more serious turn. Priest told me that an apocalypse is coming soon. At first, I thought he was kidding and I tried to make a joke about it. The guy got angry as hell.”

  “Lord help us if that nut has Sissy,” Mo said. “We gotta do something, Kate.”

  I turned back to the bartender. “What else did he say?”

  “One day he told me and some cop who comes in here after work now and then about a crazy theory of his.”

  “A cop?” I said. “Do you know his name?”

  Garth ran a hand over his powdery beard. “Not sure. He’s kind of big but soft in the middle and other places…” He paused, scratching. “Maybe his name was Butler or something like that.”

  “Baxter?” Buck asked. “Could his name be Tim Baxter?”

  “Yeah…I think that’s it now that you mention it.”

  Buck and I met each other’s eyes for a moment. I then looked back at the bartender. “You started to tell us something about what Priest said when he got angry.”

  “He just went on talking crazy, telling us about some kind of prophecy and about the second coming. Also said a messiah had been chosen, some guy he called Lorech or something like that, and that his followers would be the only ones saved.

  “Lamech. Did he say his name was Lamech?”

  “Yeah, I think that was it.”

  “Did he say anything about where he and this other guy were staying?” Buck asked.

  Garth ran a hand over his powdery head. “He did say something now that I think about it. He was in here with some girl a few weeks back. I think she might have been a prostitute. She was real attractive, dark hair, and a body…”

  “Carly,” Buck said, turning to me.

  “What else?” I said, my adrenaline surging at the prospect of finding the men.

  “He said something to the girl about a compound up in the hills.”

  “Any idea where in the hills?”

  He shook his head, tugged on one of the ear buttons. “Just that they used to do clay mining up there for the pottery the island used to produce.”

  Sammy spoke up for the first time, his high-pitched voice animated. “I think I know where that place is. They closed the mine and demolished the plant but I think there’s a house still up there. It’s all fenced off.”

  I grabbed Sammy by the arm, “You need to take us there, right now.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Grace ducks down as the motorcycle zooms past her and shots are fired. As she stomps down hard on the accelerator one of the bullets shatters the windshield. Moments later she hears the sound of metal grinding when the cycle hits her front fender. She looks up and sees that the motorcycle is wobbling and slowing down. In her rearview mirror she watches as Priest goes down, losing control of the motorcycle.

  She finds third gear and accelerates faster, the wind blowing into the cab through the shattered windshield. Behind her, all she can see now is the dirt kicking up behind the truck. She says a silent prayer, hoping that Priest won’t come after her again.

  Grace scans the cab, looking for the phone. Joey’s phone was on the console before but it’s gone. She knows it has to still be somewhere in the truck.

  She takes her foot off the accelerator for a moment and reaches forward, fishing her hand between the seat and floorboard. The truck hits a rut and she bounces, momentarily losing control. She steadies the truck and tries again, this time finding that the phone is wedged between the seat and door.

  She hits the gas again after finding the phone and dials the number she has memorized. As Melissa Taylor answers the call, Grace looks into the rearview mirror. Priest is back on his motorcycle accelerating toward her.

  “I need your help,” Grace yells into the phone as the dirt road turns into smooth wide pavement with two lanes. She heads down the hill, her heart soaring as she sees the city in the distance, at the same time telling the social worker what’s happening. After she’s told Melissa her story, Grace’s voice pitches higher as she says, “He’s coming after me again and he’s got a gun!”

  Behind her there’s the roar of the motorcycle again. She presses down hard on the accelerator at the same time losing her grip on the phone. “Damn.”

  The truck is a roaring wind tunnel now as air blows in from the shattered windshield. Grace tries to clear her mind, focusing on what she knows she must do. She passes a sign telling her that the city of Avalon is five miles ahead. A quick glance down at the speedometer and she’s made the calculations.

  At her current rate of speed Grace knows that she will be in the city in just over three minutes. The only thing she can’t calculate is whether she can elude the madman she eyes in her rearview mirror and somehow stop the truck when she reaches the heavy traffic in the city.

  Grace takes a deep breath and presses down harder on the accelerator.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  “Me and baby sis are going with you,” Mo said as we left the bar.

  I turned to her. “This could be dangerous you need to stay here.”

  Mo shook her big head, strands of straight yellow hair on the wig she’d chosen for the day flying around her head. “My niece is up there with a couple of psychos. Not gonna happen, Kate.”

  “We can help out,” Natalie said. “You forget I know shime-waza.” She made a judo chop with her hands. “They don’t got a chance.”

  I didn’t have time to argue with them. Buck and I were headed to the SUV with Sammy and my friends when his phone rang.

  “Patch her through, Dorothy,” Buck said. While he waited on the line he said to me, “There’s somebody on the phone with dispatch. It’s something about a girl who was kidnapped.”

  He put his phone on speaker and he waited until a woman’s frantic voice came on the line. “My name is Melissa Taylor. I’m a social worker. A girl named Grace Breslin was kidnapped from the beach a few days ago...she was taken by a boy named Joey.”

  “Where is she now, ma’am?” Buck asked.

  The pitch in Taylor’s voice lifted and she started crying, making her words unintelligible.

  “Calm down,” Buck said. Take a couple of deep breaths, then tell me where she is.”

  Taylor’s voice steadied but was still choked with emotion. “She’s on the road right now, headed for Avalon. There’s a man on a motorcycle following her. He’s got a gun!”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  Grace swerves, sending the truck into the oncoming lane as Priest tries to come up to her side. The motorcycle backs off, but seconds later a shot rings out and what’s left of her rear window shatters. She starts to duck down b
ut sees there’s a car coming up the hill. It’s moving fast, coming straight for her. She swerves back into her lane at the last second as the car roars past, its horn blaring.

  Another hail of bullets fly, just missing her. Up ahead, she sees the city of Avalon. There are a lot of cars where the roadway narrows. She knows that she should slow down but Priest is right behind her. She considers the possibilities and decides she has only one option. Nothing else will work.

  Grace barrels down the road, swerving in and out of traffic as she comes into the city. The truck goes up on the sidewalk, skids, and slides around the corner onto Crescent Avenue. Another shot rings out. In the rearview mirror she sees that Priest is right behind her now, just feet from the bed of the truck. Up ahead there’s a crosswalk with pedestrians and a sidewalk full of people turning in her direction.

  Her foot comes off the accelerator and moves over to the brake. She puts all her weight on the pedal as the truck screeches and skids wildly down the road. She hears a loud clank, the sound of metal crashing together, as Priest hits the rear of her truck. She turns and sees something or someone flying through the air as the truck comes to a stop a few feet from the crosswalk.

  Grace turns off the engine and staggers out of the truck. She sees that Priest is down in the road. His motorcycle has skidded past him then smashes into a storefront window. Then she sees some people and a dog running in her direction. They have guns! At first she doesn’t know what’s going on, but then she sees the badge on the dog’s collar. Police. They must be the police!

  Grace turns back to the road and sees that Priest is standing. He has his gun out and is bringing it up.

  It’s aimed at her head!

  CHAPTER SIXTY