Chasing Thunder (26 page)

“Where did you see her last?”

He paused again. “Just, you know. She went to make money and never came back.”

“On the streets?”

“Does it matter?” he shot back.

“Quite a lot, actually. What do you know about Dominic Isbecky?”

His eyes widened and he turned as white a sheet. “Who?”

It was just another way to stall her. “Yeah, okay,” she said with a shrug. “I thought I could help you if you could help me, but if you’re just going to lie about everything . . .” She trailed off and let the bait linger.

“What do you mean, ‘help me’?”

“I’m going to pay off your debt to Donny. Clean slate. All I need from you is some information about Tammy.”

“I don’t know anything, I swear to God.”

“I see,” she said. She looked down at the purse. “Is this hers?”

He gulped and then let the bag go. “No.”

She kept an eye on him as she reached inside for the wallet. She opened it to find no money, only a photo ID card for a sixteen-year-old named Haley Roberts. She placed it back in the purse and turned back toward the fire escape.

“Wait a second,” he said as he chased after her. “What about Donny?”

“What about him?” she retorted. “I told you the deal. Nothing has changed in the last thirty seconds.”

He pulled her back. “She was with Isbecky,” he finally admitted.

“I know that much, Einstein. Tell me where. When.”

He shrugged. “I haven’t seen her since Friday. He kept her at his house.”

“Where?” she probed.

“Hollywood. The hills.”

“Fine,” she decided. “Show me.”

He shook his head. “There’s no way in hell I’m going back. I barely made it out with my life last time.”

She took a deep breath. “Fine. Write it down.” She handed him Baby’s old sketchpad, which had miraculously remained untouched in her bag.

“She could be anywhere,” he said as he drew an amateur map of the hills. “He has, like, five houses throughout L.A., with property in Napa, San Diego, Palm Springs, and Vegas. No one ever knows where he is at any given time. It’s harder to hit a moving target.”

“I’ll take my chances,” she said, checking her phone. There was a message from Kelly. Her brow furrowed, and she returned the call. “What do you want?”

Billy returned the pad just as she shoved her phone back into her pocket. “I gotta go,” she said, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

“What about Donny?” Billy called after her. She ignored him as she slipped out of the window and down the fire escape.

She met Kelly at a coffeehouse near Gower Street. He stood as she approached. Neither of them was particularly happy to see the other. “Did you find her?”

He shook his head. “Nothing since last night. Where is she going to go? She has nothing. She didn’t even bother stealing from the cash register of that secondhand store.”

“She has money,” M.J. informed him. “Enough to get her to Las Vegas.”

They beat a path to the bus station downtown, where M.J. once again cornered Edna. Her eyes widened when M.J. introduced him. Never in all her years had M.J. had a cop at her side. She was quick to comply, offering any and all information she had—which was a big fat zero. “Like I told you, I haven’t seen her since that day she picked up that other runaway.”

Kelly glanced between M.J. and Edna, but M.J. just nodded and herded Kelly back out to his unmarked sedan. “We’ll try some other places. If she’s smart, she went to the Inland Empire to catch a bus clean out of Dodge.” She opened the passenger door, but Kelly held her back.

“Not until you tell me what happened to that other runaway.”

She sighed. “I told you. I put her on a bus and sent her home.”

“And where’s home?”

“North Carolina,” she answered easily.

He studied her. “Are you lying to me, M.J.?”

“Of course,” she answered. “I lie to cops all the time. It’s kind of my hobby.” He rolled his eyes. “Newsflash, hotshot, no one is going to tell you they’re lying. That’s the whole purpose of lying. You really need to work on your interrogation skills, Detective.”

“M.J., this is fucking serious!”

“I know!” she shouted back. “Why do you think I’m with you? For my health? For your charm? For our oh-so-witty repartee?” They stared each other down for a moment, then she placed a hand on her hip. “Now are you driving, or shall I?”

He gritted his teeth as he stalked around to the driver’s side. “Get in.”

They didn’t fare any better at any other locations, even after heading away from Los Angeles proper. As they approached the I-15 exchange on Interstate 10, he turned to her. “You know, Vegas is only a few hours away.”

She sighed, turned up the radio and said, “Drive fast.”

The sun was nearly up by the time they rounded the last hill and Las Vegas sprawled across the desert like a mirage in front of them. M.J. hadn’t slept. She watched the road and said nothing. They were at the bus terminal by daybreak, and they decided to eat breakfast at the diner and keep watch on all arrivals from Southern California.

He opted for an egg white omelet. She ate toast and drank coffee. Neither said much as they watched the endless line of people filing off bus after bus. Their hopes fell with each new batch. This was a dead end.

All either could hope for was that it wasn’t a dead end for Tammy.

They gave the information to one of M.J.’s Vegas contacts and headed for L.A. They had already wasted enough time. It was time to go home. She’d hound Billy until he led her right to Isbecky’s door . . . each and every fucking one of them.

Her mood was decidedly sour on the return trip. Kelly kept watching her out of the corner of his eye. Finally he sighed. “I’m sorry, M.J.”

She shrugged. “It was a long shot.”

“Not that,” he corrected softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about Slick.”

She looked at him. “And now you do?” He shrugged. “What changed your mind from this morning?”

He kept his eyes on the highway. “You’re afraid. And I get the feeling you only get that way when you’re not in control. That means you don’t have her.”

“She could have run away,” she suggested.

He nodded. “Yeah. She could have.” He looked at her. “But she didn’t.”

“Why the change of heart, Harris? Did you suddenly find your conscience in Sin City?”

He shook his head. “No. I just believe in admitting when I’m wrong.”

She chuckled. “Are you sure you’re a cop?”

He slid her a glance. “I’m not your enemy, M.J.”

Another chuckle. “You’re certainly not my friend.”

He shrugged with a smirk. “What’s a broken nose between friends?”

Her text alert went off on her phone. She tugged it from her pocket. It was a message from Snake. He wanted to know where she was, which wasn’t like him. Her stomach sank as she considered what it could mean.

“Mr. M.J.?” Kelly asked.

“I already told you there’s nobody,” she said as she typed out her message.

“Eugene Fitzpatrick,” Kelly commented casually.

She finished her text and replaced her phone before she turned to him. “What are you mumbling about now?”

“Oh, just this guy I met the other night. He didn’t seem the type to frequent topless bars, and he certainly didn’t seem Irish. And he knew you,” Kelly added with a pointed look.

“A lot of people know me,” she replied. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” he said. “Tell yourself that you’ll never get close to anyone. Tell yourself that it makes one damned bit of difference how far away you stay. In the end, if someone wants to get to you, they can usually figure out how.” He paused only momentarily. “Like your mom.”

He felt her slam shut like a steel door. “What the fuck do you know about my mom?”

“I know how she died, M.J.”

She turned her head toward the window and said nothing. Miles passed before either of them spoke. He knew it was a big risk to take her along this road, much less bring up what happened there decades before. He knew that was why she had been so quiet. She was pensive about Tammy, yes. But her wounds cut much deeper than that.

“If you want to talk about it,” he started, but she was quick to cut him off.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she snapped. “If you want a sob story, listen to talk radio.”

He nodded and turned his attention back to the road. He knew that was all he was going to get from her. He had gone too far.

In the end it didn’t matter. The news hit his police radio by the time they reached San Bernardino. The Hard Candy Killer had struck again.

Tammy was dead.

19. NOTHING ELSE MATTERS

“
Is it going to hurt?” Baby asked, her eyes big and blue.

“Yep,” Jack chirped.

Her eyes widened even more. Snake and Kid suppressed grins as they watched Jack set out his instruments for her very first tattoo. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he assured. “Worst pain you’ll ever experience in your whole life.” He gave her a wink and she playfully scowled at him. “I can take a mallet and knock you out now if you’d like.”

“I can take it,” she promised.

“Spoken like a true biker chick.” Jack grinned. “Maybe after this, you can take a ride with me on my bike. I call her the Serpent,” he added, flashing his tongue like a snake.

Snake bent down and put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “If you do, I’ll break every single bone in your body.”

Jack laughed. “Big Daddy,” he said to Baby, motioning to Snake over his shoulder. She just grinned. That was fine by her. “All right, so what are we getting?”

“Something visible,” Snake said for her, and she nodded.

“On my wrist,” she said and offered her arm forward. “I want a lotus flower. Green and pink and yellow.”

He nodded. “Lotus. A beautiful flower that grows out of muck. I like it.” He grinned. “Surprised you’re not getting a Wyndryder tattoo.”

“Jack,” Snake cautioned, but Baby was intrigued.

“What’s the Wyndryder tattoo?”

Jack looked up at Snake, who glared down at him. Finally he rolled up his sleeve, baring his right bicep. It was the symbol of a snake circling a tornado within a diamond border. “It was our crest,” Snake explained softly. “‘Riding the Wind. Saddling the Storm.’”

She glanced back to Jack. “Do you have it?”

Jack shook his head. “No, you have to be a member of the Wyndryders to wear it.”

She glanced to Kid, who answered her unspoken question with a shake of his head. “Who has them?” she asked Snake.

Snake rolled down his sleeve. “There aren’t many of us left. Jimmy. Me.”

“M.J.,” Jack supplied as he wiped her wrist clean and prepped the area. “That was her first tattoo.”

“Yours, too,” Snake chuckled, and Jack laughed as they remembered how nervous he was to ink M.J.’s skin, especially with a tattoo that important. It was their calling card, their brand . . . their identity.

“We’ve all come a long way from there, haven’t we?”

Snake said nothing and Baby glanced at her bare wrist. “I want it.”

Snake turned back to her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Baby.”

Her eyebrow arched. “My body, my choice, right?”

Kid looked at his brother, who sighed. “She’s gonna kick my ass, you know that, right?” Jack laughed and Snake smirked at him. “Yours, too, Laughy Joe.”

Baby shook her head. “No, she won’t.” She squared her shoulders. “I won’t let her.”

All men present shared a chuckle. Snake placed his hands on her shoulders. “Spoken like a true Wyndryder,” he said. He then bared his arm so that Jack could reference the decades-old design and get to work.

Kelly pulled to a stop on a side street near M.J.’s apartment, but she made no move to get out of the car. “I’m not going anywhere, Harris. You might as well keep driving.”

“Some things can’t be unseen,” he cautioned. “You seeing that body won’t make her any less dead. Or you any more responsible.”