Hollywood Prisoner: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller (2 page)

I began choking as the officers forced air into my lungs…

“I’ve got a pulse,” the detective said. “It’s weak, but it’s there.”

“She’s breathing,” the uniformed officer said, turning me on my side to help clear my airway.

I was in and out of consciousness after that, not waking up until three days later, when I saw the smiling face of Leo hovering above my hospital bed. My partner was African-American, in his mid-fifties; a big man with a shaved head.

“Welcome back to the living,” Leo said.

I tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. I tried again, but only made a gurgling sound.

He touched my shoulder. “Don’t push yourself. The doctors say it could take a few days before you regain your strength.” He must have seen my questioning look. His gaze moved off for a moment. “It was Noah who attacked you. According to a witness, he was shot and killed by someone in the shadows. No real description.”

“P…pp…rl…”

He nodded. “Maybe it was Pearl. We don’t know for sure.”

“Whhy…”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, Kate. Whoever it was must have been following you, trying to offer protection. All I know is that he saved your life.”

A few weeks earlier I’d learned that Pearl Kramer, a retired detective, might be my biological father. My bio-mom was a former actress named Judie Crawford, a fact that my adoptive mother had kept from me until recently. She’d hidden the truth from me because she was afraid of Ryan Cooper, the man who had murdered my adoptive father. He had threatened her, and, at the time, she believed that my father’s death was payback for his prior involvement with Judie. Cooper had gone on to marry my bio-mom and eventually had beaten her to death.

For some reason that I still didn’t fully understand, my bio-mom had never told anyone the identity of my biological father. A few weeks back, Pearl’s name was the last word uttered by my dying lieutenant, Ozzie Powell, who had suffered a heart attack. Pearl and my adoptive father had been officers on the force thirty years earlier, making me think he could be my father. If he was my bio-dad, I had no idea why he’d kept the truth from me all these years.

I felt a tear on my cheek. Leo’s big hand came over and brushed it away. “The good news is the surgeons repaired your severed artery. There was no permanent damage.”

Leo spent the next couple hours with me, offering water and words of encouragement. I finally managed to regain enough strength to form sentences. “Whhat hh…happened to me…is the department gg...going to…investigate?”

He nodded. “Chief Dunbar authorized an investigation into both the attack on you and your father’s murder. Everything’s back on the table.”

I was grateful that the investigation into my father’s death was finally being reopened, even though it took me almost being killed to make it happen. “Who…who c...caught the case?”

“Horton and Braden.”

Woody Horton and Harry Braden were a couple of detectives also assigned to Section One. Leo and I only occasionally crossed their paths because we worked different cases.

Horton was in his early thirties, with an easygoing, unpretentious manner. He had blond hair and blue eyes, and looked like he belonged on a surfboard rather than in a cop shop.

Braden was older, pushing into his forties. He was married, with a couple kids, a good guy who had worked his way up through the ranks. I knew that he and Woody were exceptional detectives who left nothing on the table when it came to giving their all to the job.

Leo studied me for a moment. “You’re not thinking about…”

I nodded. “I’m coming bb...back to work.”

“You know you can’t be involved in either investigation.”

“I know. It’s just…” I took a breath, searching for the words to explain my decision. “I can’t just w...walk away after…” I shifted my body, feeling the pain from my injuries. “…after everything that happened.”

“Dunbar was expecting your resignation.”

A month earlier, my pursuit of my adoptive father’s killers and the death of Buck McCade, a detective I’d once been in love with, had left me emotionally drained. I’d intended to quit police work and begin a new life. Noah’s attack had changed all that, along with the voice I’d heard during my near-death experience. I was determined to put my fear aside and bring the men behind my father’s murder to justice.

As for Reginald Dunbar, he’d recently been appointed the new police chief. He was a no-nonsense, by-the-book hard ass, but I had some dirt on him from when he’d worked Vice years ago. I’d learned that Dunbar had propositioned some of the women arrested in a prostitution ring, and his actions had been covered up. It was leverage I’d used to keep Bernie on the job, since our chief didn’t believe a canine should be working Homicide.

“I think D...Dunbar will come around,” I told Leo. “I can’t just walk away after…” I took a breath. “…after almost b...being killed.”

Leo regarded me again. “You sure about this, Kate?”

I coughed, again feeling the pain from my wounds. “I’ve never been more sure.” I brushed my messy hair out of my eyes. “Do you think...could you maybe find me a m...mirror? I’m sure I look like hell.”

Leo smiled. “You look great, considering everything.” My big partner disappeared for a moment, returning with a small handheld mirror, which he held out to me. I took it, examining the image staring back.

I blinked several times, trying to comprehend what was happening. The woman in the mirror was familiar, but it wasn’t me. I was looking at the woman I’d found in Runyon Canyon.

“We’re gonna need to get her in the airship and to a hospital,” Leo said.

I realized my partner was kneeling beside me, next to the badly injured woman. I had no idea how long I’d flashed back to my injuries, my time in the hospital, or how I’d confused myself with our victim. All I did know was that I needed to focus on the issues at hand.

I looked in the direction of the helicopter, still hovering over the woods. “Anything on our suspects?”

“Hall and Slauson are still searching the area.” Leo got to his feet. “I need to get some help down here.”

My partner used his radio to tell the helicopter pilot what was happening. After ending the call, he told me, “The chopper’s going to try and set down in the clearing. We need to move back.”

A couple minutes later, we watched as the helicopter pilot maneuvered his way down into the canyon and landed. I gave Bernie the stay command as Leo and I assisted getting the victim on board. A couple minutes later the airship was airborne again, heading toward the hospital.

When the roar of the engine finally lessened, Leo said, “Let’s see if we can find Hall and Slauson.”

We made our way to the periphery of the woods with Bernie. The dense foliage seemed impenetrable. We held our position, and I made a radio call to Darby Hall. It took a moment for him to respond. “Slauson and I got separated. She’s not responding to my radio calls. I also tried her cell, but she’s not picking up.”

“Where are you?”

“Not sure exactly, but probably a couple hundred yards from where the chopper landed. I’m in heavy brush.”

“Work your way back to the clearing. We’re going to need to get additional manpower and try to locate your partner.”

Darby took exception to my suggestion, which wasn’t unusual for him, but finally agreed there was no other option. We waited until he eventually made his way back to our location. He was out of breath and claiming he was covered with ticks as he met up with Leo and me.

“This is a fucking disaster,” Darby fumed, stripping off his coat. “I’m being eaten alive.”

“I feel sorry for the ticks,” I wanted to say. Instead, I told him, “Let’s try your partner again. Maybe she dropped her radio.”

After more protests, he did as I suggested. There was no answer on the radio, but when Leo called her cell phone, Barbara Slauson answered, keeping her voice low. “There’s someone coming in my direction…I need help.”

“Stay low and use your weapon, if necessary,” Leo said. “We’re coming.”

The truth was, we had no idea where she was or what direction to head in. All we did know was that from the sound of her voice, she was in extreme distress.

We fanned out, each of us moving through the brush in different directions. Somewhere in the distance I heard a scream. Releasing Bernie would have been an option, if I knew which direction to send him.

I made a frantic radio call, asking Leo and Darby, “Any idea what’s happening?”

“I’ve got her,” Darby said, a moment later. His voice pitched higher with anguish. “There’s blood…”

When he didn’t go on, I repeatedly asked him what was happening. I didn’t get a response until a few minutes later, when Leo and I managed to close on his location. We found Darby holding his partner in his arms. There was blood everywhere.

“Someone butchered her,” Darby cried, rocking back and forth with his partner in his arms.

I bent down to them. He wasn’t exaggerating. Barbara Slauson appeared to have bled out from a violent knife attack. As Darby held her in his arms, I looked into the woods, a thought coming to mind that I once had as a child.

There was a monster hiding in the dark.

The killing field in Runyon Canyon and the murder of an on-duty detective had resulted in a tactical alert. There was a massive response from the department, as well as the sheriff’s personnel. Despite searching the rest of the night and well into the morning, the monster known as the Slayer had somehow slipped away. To make matters worse, the emaciated victim we’d found had succumbed to her injuries during the night and we had no clues as to her identity.

Forensic teams had cordoned off the area where I’d found what I’d initially thought were raised planter beds. As it turned out, they were shallow graves containing the bodies of three additional victims. Our initial speculation was that the girls had been held prisoner in the boxes before being tortured like the victim we’d found. Once the Slayer was finished with a victim, the box where she’d been held was turned into a shallow grave, where animals eventually feasted on the remains.

Leo and I were exhausted after being up all night. We made plans to meet with our lieutenant and the other Section One staff assigned to the Slayer’s case the following morning. Bernie and I then made the drive down Pacific Coast Highway to my mother’s cousin’s cottage in Laguna Beach, where I’d been staying since my release from the hospital. The small home was nothing fancy, but it was located right on the ocean, and the owner was on an extended vacation in Europe.

I fell into bed, but left a window open. I immediately drifted off to sleep to the sound of breaking waves, while Bernie snoozed on the floor next to me. I didn’t wake up until my phone rang late in the day. It was Leo.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” my partner said.

I sat up on the edge of the bed and tried to focus. “No. I had a nice nap and was just planning to go for a walk on the beach. What’s up?”

“Nothing new on the Slayer, but I just heard some news on Collin Russell that I thought you’d want to know about.”

I’d been trying to find Russell since I’d learned that Noah had been working for him and Harlan Ryland. Both men were the original founders of something called the Tauist Society. They had a dedicated group of followers who wanted to eventually take over society and force their beliefs on everyone. The group was a terrorist organization, in my opinion, masquerading as a religion. The Tauists had made Russell and Ryland very rich, and also very dangerous.

“Don’t tell me Russell’s finally surfaced?” I said after gathering my thoughts.

“He’s surfaced, alright. His body was found on the beach in Malibu earlier today. He’d been shot through the head.”

I processed what he said for a moment. Maybe Ryland had finally turned on his partner to keep him quiet. “Any suspects?”

“None at this point, but the warrant to search Ryland’s estate finally came through. Horton and Braden are planning to serve it in the morning and the rest of Section One has been invited to the party.”

“I want to be there.”

“I thought you’d say that. Lieutenant Edna’s going to need some authorization up the chain of command for that to happen, since you have a personal interest in things.”

Leo’s unspoken message was that Chief Dunbar would need to give his consent for me to be present during the search. “I’ll make a phone call.”

“If you get approval, Edna wants to meet on the Slayer case right after the search is finished. As you can imagine, the murder of one of our own has raised the stakes.”

After I told Leo that I’d see him in the morning, I spent the next hour waiting for a phone call back from Chief Dunbar after leaving a message with his secretary. When the chief finally called, he reluctantly gave his okay for me to be present at Ryland’s estate, but not to actively participate in the search. I could tell by his tone of voice that my leverage of knowing about his indiscretions while he worked Vice was growing thin, along with his patience.

After ending the call, Bernie and I took a long walk on the beach. The sun was setting, and the summer evening was warm and beautiful. We were returning to our cottage when I saw a couple familiar figures waving to us from the deck of my beach house.

I let Bernie off his leash and he trotted over, doing the happy dance with Natalie Bump. My twenty-something British friend was blonde and gorgeous. She almost always attracted a crowd wherever she went, usually of the male persuasion. Natalie had a rough upbringing with her truck driving father that had left her with a colorful vocabulary. She held nothing back when it came to getting her point across.

She was with Mo Simpson, her partner in a PI firm called The Sweet Sistahs. The duo also worked as part-time actors on a cable TV sitcom called
Hollywood Girlz
. Mo was Natalie’s opposite in many ways. She was African-American, loved wigs, and could best be described as large and in charge. Like Natalie, Mo also never hesitated in getting her point across, even when it took some physical persuasion.

“I brought us a couple of bottles of Butt-a-Babe,” Natalie said, after Bernie had settled down, and we all took seats on the outdoor deck.

“I’m almost afraid to ask what that is,” I said, knowing that my beautiful friend had a hobby of whipping up her own cocktails, some with a propensity to leave behind the world’s worst hangover.

“Baby sis is thinking ‘bout selling it on the Internet,” Mo said, brushing red streamers of wig hair out of her eyes. “It’s guaranteed to leave you five pounds lighter.” Her dark eyes took in her ample hips. “I can personally attest to it workin’ wonders.”

Mo was pushing into the dark regions of two-hundred pounds. If Butt-a-Babe was working wonders, it had a lot of work left to do.

“It’s the world’s best diet cocktail,” Natalie explained, regarding me. Her gaze then lowered. “You look like you need to knock off a couple of pounds.”

My brows inched together. “You mean I’m getting fat?”

“I think you had too much down time in the hospital.” She poured us all glasses, then punched my arm. “I’m just takin’ the mickey with ya.” She raised her glass. “Bottoms up.”

I had a thought that
bottom
was the operative word as I sipped the drink. It was cool and refreshing, with a fruity aftertaste. It was also loaded with rum.

Mo had downed half her drink in one gulp. “Now that hits the spot.” She looked at Natalie. “I think I’m gonna need me another one of these, baby sis. I’m on a strict diet.”

I complimented Natalie on the drink, and, despite my better judgment, took another sip.

“We saw on the news that you had yourself a busy day,” Natalie said. “How does it feel to be back in the saddle?”

I set my glass down. “Other than being exhausted, it feels like old times.”

“You got any leads on that a-hole they’re calling the Slayer?” Mo asked, swirling the last of her drink before tipping up the glass.

“You probably know as much as I do from watching the news,” I said. “From what we’ve pieced together, he’s been at work for the past couple years and has left several victims behind.”

“Accordin’ to the news, he takes the girls prisoner and starves ‘em to death,” Natalie said.

I saw no reason not to confirm what she’d heard. “It’s pretty gruesome stuff.” I looked at Mo, who had been a pimp at one time, trying to get girls off the stroll. She still had lots of street contacts. “If you hear any scuttlebutt, I’d appreciate you letting me know.”

Mo regarded me, turning her head and levelling one eye on me, in that way she had. She looked at Natalie, asked for another drink, then stared at me again. “You got something on your mind that you’re not tellin’ us, don’t you?”

I sighed. “You must be a mind reader.”

“Give it up,” Natalie said. “If it helps, you can think of Mo and me as your underpaid therapists.”

I sipped my drink and took a moment, thinking about the flashbacks I’d had in Runyon Canyon. “Something happened to me last night. I remembered what it’s like to be dead.”

Mo’s heavy forehead became pinched. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Natalie, then back at me. “What you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“I saw myself after…after Noah stabbed me. I know it sounds crazy, but I was floating above my body.”

Natalie’s hazel eyes widened. “Maybe you’re a ghost.” She looked at Mo. “It could be that Kate’s deader than an eighty-year-old pecker on its way to a Viagra convention, and she just doesn’t know it.”

Mo grimaced. “If that’s the case, it means we’re also dead or part of her crazy-ass hallucination.”

“I’m not dead or a ghost, and I wasn’t hallucinating,” I said. “I think I had one of those near-death experiences that you read about. It could be that I was so traumatized by my injuries that I didn’t remember everything until last night.”

Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought Mo moved her chair back a couple inches and she leaned away from me. “What the hell happened when you was…on the other side?”

I took a breath, wondering if they thought I’d lost my mind. “Like I said, I saw my body and the men who saved me. I then saw Noah’s body.”

“What about Pearl?” Natalie said. “Did you see your daddy shootin’ your boyfriend?”

I shook my head, slightly annoyed with her lack of tact. “I don’t know that Pearl shot him or that he is my daddy, and I didn’t see him there.”

“Maybe somebody else shot Noah,” Mo suggested. “What happened next?”

“I was in a beautiful, peaceful place, floating somewhere above the world, when I heard a voice.”

“A voice?” Mo looked at Natalie again, then met my eyes. “This is creepy as hell.”

I was now also frustrated with Mo. “It wasn’t creepy. It was…I know this sounds unbelievable, but I think the voice was someone from the other side.”

“Are you talkin’ ‘bout the big guy upstairs?” Natalie asked. “‘Cause I’ve always wanted to have a conversation with Him, ask Him why there’s stuff like pimples.”

“Pimples?” Mo and I said at the same time. I then added, “Is that the most important question you can come up with?”

“Seems pretty important to me,” Natalie said, looking at my nose, “especially when you got a giant one on the end of your schnoz.”

I’d had a large pimple on my nose a few weeks back that apparently had left a big impression on my friend.

“Forget about zits,” Mo said. “What happened next?”

“The spirit, or whoever or whatever it was, told me that I had a choice to make.”

Mo’s forehead scrunched up again. “What kind of choice?”

“It said that I have to choose between love and fear.”

My friends regarded one another. Natalie said, “I don’t get it.”

“It’s similar to what Ted Grady once told me,” I explained. “Life is about choosing love over fear. I think the message makes a lot of sense. I’ve decided that, from now on, I need to choose love.”

“It sounds like you’re ready for a new relationship,” Natalie said. “I met this guy in Starbucks the other day, and he’s…”

“No,” I said firmly. “I’m not ready for another relationship. This isn’t about the kind of relationship you’re thinking about. It’s about trying to move away from the fear that has consumed my life since my father died and trying to see the beauty and goodness in the world.”

“That’s gotta be tough with your job,” Mo said. “Hey, I just remembered. I heard that Russell idiot finally got what he had coming.”

“Do you think Ryland finally whacked him?” Natalie asked.

I had no idea how they knew about Collin Russell being dead, but my friends had a way of knowing things almost before I did.

I was noncommittal. “It’s hard to say.”

Mo took a gulp of her drink, pursed her lips, and exhaled. “Maybe you’ll know more after you search his place tomorrow.”

What she’d said took their inside knowledge to a new level. “How did you know about that?”

She smiled and adjusted her red wig. “Word gets ‘round, especially when it comes from a guy who owes us his sanity.”

I realized that she was talking about my former partner. “Charlie?”

She shrugged, but otherwise didn’t respond.

Charlie Winkler had recently come back to work part-time. He’d almost made the fatal mistake of marrying a detective named Jessica Barlow, who had promised to pay off his gambling debts. My friends had registered Charlie on a website for people who were about to make really dumb mistakes and asked for financial help. Our former landlord, Nana, had taken pity on him and paid off his debts, saving him from having to marry Jessica.

“I’ll betcha that Harlan Ryland bloke is behind everything,” Natalie said, going back to our discussion about the upcoming search of his estate. “Maybe you’ll find proof he offed your daddy.”

“Maybe,” I said, still trying to be non-committal.

She and Mo went on for a few minutes, asking me more about my near-death experience. After I told them I felt less fearful about my life and relationships after hearing the voice, Natalie downed the last of her drink and said, “Speaking of relationships. I think Izzy’s cheatin’ on me.”

“Cheatin’?” Mo said. “If that’s true, we need to make him disappear.”

Izzy Cluck was a magician. He and Natalie had been together for the better part of the past year. He seemed remarkably normal, despite his chosen profession.