Sandman (16 page)

He groaned deep in his throat, his breathing labored. His hand worked feverishly along the shaft of his cock. His eyes scanned the immediate vicinity until they zeroed in on a t-shirt peeking out from under the bed. He snatched it in time to expel his load.

Movement on the bed caught his attention. He held his breath, waited to see if she would wake. Her eyes remained closed as she groped for the comforter. She pulled it up under her chin and rolled away. This time he eased up and left the room silently, bringing the soiled shirt with him.

***

The first thing Meagan did when she awoke was reach out for Godzilla. But he wasn’t on the bed. She got out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. She noticed the back door wide open. Vaguely she remembered letting him out sometime in the night. She must have been sleeping pretty hard not to notice when he returned.

She closed the door and went to the bathroom. When she finished, she searched the tiny apartment. Godzilla was gone. She opened the back door. The sun had not yet shown its face, but a sliver of light lit the sky. No Godzilla. She walked out and headed toward the street. The cold concrete on her bare feet sent shivers throughout her body. She wrapped her arms around herself in a feeble attempt at warmth, and turned the corner of the house, Godzilla was nowhere in sight.

Meagan ran back inside and changed into a sweatshirt, sweatpants and her running shoes. She hesitated outside, looking up and down the street. Then she remembered the other night and headed off in the direction that Godzilla had taken.

She walked down the middle of the road. At this hour, there were no cars to worry about. She called his name and whistled. It wasn’t until she reached the end of the street that she began to really worry. She thought of the beach and ran down the stairs, then looked in both directions. Nothing. She started toward the pier hugging the hill thickly covered with shrubs.

Diligently, Meagan scoured the bushes yelling his name. By the time she’d reached the pier, a knot had grown in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know what to do next.

Walking back home, she decided to call the county and see if they’d picked up Godzilla. Although he had a dog tag, they may not have had time to call her yet. She reached the top of the stairs and spotted a police car with flashing lights parked in front of a neighbor’s house. Her curiosity was only fleeting; she had her own troubles to contend with.

The moment she entered the house, she grabbed the phonebook and was dialing the number for the dog pound when there was a knock at her front door. Phone still in hand, she turned to open it and found a uniformed policeman standing on the stoop.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, ma’am. Do you have a dog named Godzilla?”

“Yes!” Meagan set the phone down. “You found him?”

“Would you come with me, ma’am?” His emotionless voice sent a chill down her spine.

Meagan followed in silence back down the street, her mind whirling with possible scenarios. She couldn’t imagine what Godzilla had gotten himself into that would have pissed off the officer this much. He led her into the backyard of her neighbor’s house. The first thing Meagan noticed was an elderly couple, both dressed in robes, huddled together. They looked solemn.

Meagan followed their gaze, and noticed a strawberry blonde ball of fur. She stood there a few seconds not understanding. Then, as if a switch turned on in her head, she ran over and dropped to her knees.

“Godzilla?”

“Is this your dog, ma’am?”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t turn around. Meagan lifted his head. Tears slid down her cheeks. She looked at the dog that had become her child, her companion, her best friend. The one she loved most in this world.

His soul had departed. He no longer resembled the exuberant partner with whom she had shared her life. His mouth and eyes open, his tongue lay limp toward the ground. She set his head down gently, then inspected the rest of his body. Her hands buried deep within his fur stroking him lovingly. Then her eyes came to rest on the gaping wound at his throat.

Meagan looked up, her gaze following the bloody path that led to the back of the house.

“Ma’am, is this your dog?”

She couldn’t answer, instead she collapsed on Godzilla’s chest, her body jerked up and down as she sobbed, her arms clung to him tightly.

She barely remembered the policeman lifting her by her shoulders and leading her back to her house. She didn’t acknowledge him when he told her he would be back to ask her some questions. Instead she collapsed facedown on her couch, and remained there until the policeman returned.

Meagan managed to sit up and dry her eyes when she heard his first questions.

“Do you have any enemies? Any arguments with the neighbors? Have you received any threats lately?”

Meagan told him about the hang-ups, but he didn’t seem interested. The cop told her that animal control was on its way and handed her a card. After reminding her to call if she remembered anything, he left.

She managed to close and lock the door behind him. She had no idea how long she had stood staring at the closed door when she suddenly remembered work. There was no way she could go in today. She called in sick, then shuffled off to her bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

TWENTY-SEVEN

The detectives had elected to drive home the night before, so by ten a.m. Thomas was dressed for the day and ready to check in with Shadowhawk. “How’s it going?”

“I just sat down at the computer, so I don’t have any answers yet,” she said.

“Okay, you work on the Dark Knight. I’ll go see if I can talk to this Jordan guy.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me with you?”

“Yes. I want you to follow up on that lead.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Call me the minute you leave him, I’m dying to know what his story is.”

“Will do. Catch ya later.”

Thomas headed to Laguna Niguel. He pulled into the Hidden Hills apartment complex and drove around until he found the building, then parked.

The apartment was on the first floor. After knocking on the door repeatedly, it was finally answered by a woman of indeterminate age, perhaps somewhere in her late thirties? It was hard to tell; she looked like she’d been ridden hard and put away wet.

The cigarette pressed between her lips expelled smoke in Thomas’ direction. He waved his hand. She let out a phlegm-filled cough, exposing a pierced tongue. The makeup surrounding her eyes was so dark, it was hard to determine their color, brown. The dark purple lipstick she wore clashed with her pale skin and reminded him of a corpse.

“Well,
Hel-loo
good lookin’.” Her eyes roamed the length of his body, and a smile tugged at her lips. “And what can I do
for
you?”

He ignored the suggestive remark and introduced himself, flicking his ID open.

“Does Jordan Roberts live here?”

Her expression turned sour. “You’re shit out of luck, he ain’t here. He’s working, or so he says. What do you want with the little worm anyway?”

“I just needed to question him regarding a case I’m working on.”

“Uh huh.” She flicked her ash on the floor.

Thomas was losing his patience. “And you are?”

“Sharon, his wife.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure.” She stepped back.

Thomas walked into a cave. It was dark; the curtains were drawn. It reeked of smoke, and a dirty litter box. On his right stood the kitchen. Dirty dishes filled the sink and spilled out over the counters. The trash can overflowed with fast food bags and beer cans. Flies buzzed around the contents.

Sharon Roberts led him into the living room, then picked up a load of laundry off the couch and tossed it on the floor so he could sit down. He stared at the spot she’d cleared; it was covered with long white cat hair. She made a feeble attempt to brush it away; it stuck like glue.

Thomas eased himself down on the edge of the sofa and attempted to hide his grimace. He already knew he’d be sending his suit to the cleaners to remove the stench that undoubtedly started seeping into the fabric the moment he entered the room. A few cat hairs wouldn’t make much of a difference either way.

She sat next to him; any closer, and she’d be sitting on his lap. It took everything he had in him not to run for the door. The odor alone was bad enough, but the woman herself made his skin crawl. This was going to be the fastest interview in history.

“How long have you been with your husband, ma’am?”

“I’ve
been
with him about two years. But I’m thinking our relationship has run its course. He’s too jealous, too possessive. He’s cramping my style, if you catch my drift.” She gave him the once-over again and licked her lips.

He hoped his poker face remained intact.

“I mean, just look at this place.” She waved an arm around the room. “He doesn’t do a damned thing, he expects
me
to do his laundry and pick up after him. Well, I’m done. Finished, I tell you. I’m not his mommy. I got me a job
too
, you know.”

He could only imagine the kind of work she did, but had to ask. “What kind of work do you do?”

“I’m a bartender down at OJ’s. You should come in and see me sometime. I’ll give you a drink on the house.” She leaned into him.

He feigned a smile and leaned back. “I just might do that.” He made a show of taking out his notebook and pen. “And where is this OJ’s?”

“San Clemente.”

She leapt from the couch and headed for the kitchen.

The action startled him.

“You want a beer?” she yelled back.

Thomas looked at his watch. It was barely eleven in the morning.

“No, thanks. I’m on duty.”

Peeking her head around the corner, she winked. "I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“No, really, I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself!” She appeared with another cigarette clenched between her lips and a can of Coors in her hand.

“When
will
your husband be home, around five, six maybe?”

She laughed. “Hell, no. He just left yesterday.”

“What does your husband do for a living?”
Maybe this wasn’t a bust after all.

“He drives a truck. You know, one of those big ones? He’s gone anywhere from three days to a week at a time.”

Bingo!
He sat up straighter.

“When is he due back?”

“I don’t have a clue. He comes and goes as if I’m running a damn hotel. He doesn’t exactly hand over his schedule to me.”

Thomas scribbled some notes. “What’s the name of the company he works for?”

“I don’t know that either.” She displayed an exaggerated pout. “I’m just the wife, he doesn’t tell me anything.” Sharon Roberts rubbed her hand down his thigh.

Thomas stood abruptly. “Thank you for your time.” He rushed toward the door. “I’ll let myself out.”

She ran after him and stood in the open doorway.

“Come back anytime!”

As he drove toward the station, he thought about the interview. Talk about torture. He wondered how anyone could stand to be in the same room with that woman for any length of time. It gave him even more incentive to meet this guy. Then his brother’s words ran through his head: “He will live with a domineering female.”

He checked in with Shadowhawk.

“Hey, you got anything?”

“Not yet, I’m still sifting through the conversations. So far it’s boring as shit. What about you, how’d your interview go?”

“He wasn’t in. I met his
lovely
wife though.”

“That good, huh?”

“I’d rather eat tar than go back to that place. I think I need a shower.”

“I’m intrigued.” Shadowhawk laughed. “So when
do
we go back?”

“Apparently he has a job that keeps him out of town… a lot, and he lives with a very dominant female. So far he fits the profile.”

“Sounds promising. What does he do?”

“That’s where I really hit the jackpot. He’s a trucker.”

“So, this
could
be our guy. When do we meet him?”

“That’s where I hit a snag. His wife has no idea when he’ll be back in town. Evidently, their communication skills are lacking. I’m going to have to call all the trucking companies in the area to see if I can find the one he works for. Maybe then I can narrow down when he’s due back in town. I’ll catch up with you later.”

When Thomas arrived at the station he went directly to Johnson’s office. “Tell me you’ve got something good for me.”

“Phew, what’s that smell?” She leaned away from him.

“Don’t ask.” He took off his jacket and slung it over his arm. He reminded himself to take it to his car afterward.

“Nasty.”

Thomas backed up a foot. “Sorry.”

“Well, all I found on this guy were some speeding tickets, and a DUI from about ten years ago. He’s pretty clean. Do you want me to keep looking?”

“If you don’t mind. I’m really liking this guy for it. Shit. I was expecting an attempted rape, peeping, exposure, something that would show his escalation.”

Thomas spent the afternoon calling all the trucking companies in the phone book looking for the one with Jordan Roberts on the books. He finally lucked out with The All American Trucking Company in Santa Ana, and jumped in his car and made the trip in record time. His interview with the boss was brief. He’d already known that Roberts had been fired weeks before, but he wanted to get a feel for the guy from his boss. Gauge his reaction to the questions.

Bill Bower seemed like a decent man; his complaints justified. He said he had no problem with Roberts’s attitude. His problem with the boy, as he called him, was that his loads had been coming in late more often than not for the past few months. Bower’s reprimands seemed to have fallen on deaf ears.

He hated to have to cut Roberts from the crew, he said, but in this economy, finding able-bodied men to do the job right was far too easy. Bower told him he was sorry, that it was just business. He had to keep the customer satisfied.

Thomas replayed the interview in his head while he sat in the drive-through line at Arby’s waiting for his roast beef sandwich. He wondered if Roberts was indeed their perp? The way the guy seemed to be escalating, it was possible that his little side hobby took precedence over his paying job these days.