Hollywood Lust (8 page)

Watson folded his arms. “He made some threats and so I backed off.”

Leo’s interest was now also peaked. “What kind of threats did he make, son?”

“He said he would harm my family if I tried to fire him. I don’t think he was kidding.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The guy had a knife and said he would use it on me.”

My heart was racing now. I found a photograph of our murder weapon in my briefcase and showed it to him. “Did the knife look anything like this?”

Watson glanced at the photo as his brows inched together and his eyes came up to me. “That’s it.”

“I made arrangements for us to talk to Janice Taylor tomorrow afternoon at the Supermax Federal Prison in Florence,” Joe Dawson said.

It was just after six. My phone had chirped when Bernie and I’d walked out of the station after work.

Dawson went on, “I’ve already cleared things through Greer and your superiors.”

I collapsed onto a bench by the pathway and released a breath, dreading the trip. “Any idea what she wants to talk about?”

“Not a clue. Her attorney has made it clear that she wants only you to be there, but I’m going to tag along.”

“Why do I get the feeling nothing good is going to come of this?”

I heard Dawson breathe before he said, “You okay with this?”

“We’ve worked together long enough to tell you the truth. I’d rather do just about anything than deal with her again.”

“Understood.” There was a pause, then, “My offer to try and keep you out of things still stands.”

I dragged a hand through my damp hair. “I appreciate it, but we both know it’s me she wants. I’ll be there.”

“Your flight leaves at ten in the morning. See you in Colorado.”

After ending the call, I got ahold of Oz, who’d already left for the day, and made sure he knew what was happening. He said I was authorized to go and that he’d inform Leo and Alex about my absence in the morning. He also told me that, so far, Selfie and Molly hadn’t been able to match Galen Marshall with ever having worked at Bernstein Studios. Before I’d ended my day, we’d run several record checks on Marshall, but had come up with nothing, and the DMV address on file for him wasn’t current.

“I guess I’ll see you in a couple of days,” I said before ending the call.

“You okay, Kate?”

I knew it was Oz’s fatherly concerns taking over. “As well as I can be under the circumstances.” I took a breath, trying to steady my nerves. “I just need some time to get my head back in the game with the feds. I’ll be okay.”

“You need anything, let me know.”

After thanking the lieutenant for his concerns, Bernie and I drove home. I took a long shower and then fixed myself a bite to eat before realizing that I’d need to make arrangements for someone to take care of Bernie while I was gone. I went next door where I found Natalie and Mo with Nana and Natalie’s boyfriend, Izzy Cluck.

Natalie poured me a glass of what they were all drinking, something called Death by Moscow. “It’s just a little fruit flavorin’, along with some of that Russian joy juice,” she said. “It’s not ’bout to get you pie-eyed unless you gotta spend the winter with some guy named Boris.” She tipped her glass up. “Cheers!”

After slugging down some of Natalie’s prior concoctions, I took a cautious sip. My brows went up. “It’s actually pretty good.”

“It’s better than good,” Nana said, smiling like a jack-o-lantern. “It’s got my motor running real good.” She looked at Natalie’s boyfriend and licked her lips.

“Keep them giant ivories in your mouth,” Mo said. “Izzy’s off limits. He’s also busy workin’ on project H.”

I knew I probably shouldn’t ask but said, “Project H?”

“Izzy’s gonna make the Hollywood sign disappear,” Natalie said, beaming a smile at her new beau.

“It’s the biggest thing to happen ’round here in years,” Mo agreed.

I took another sip of my Dead Russian, I mean Death by Moscow, at the same time realizing it was probably more potent than I’d anticipated. “That should be quite the trick, considering the sign is one of the most famous landmarks in the world.”

Natalie downed the last of her drink. “It’s gonna be covered live on TV. If you want, me and Mo can get your front row tickets with us.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule.”

Izzy rubbed his hands together and smiled. “It will be my most celebrated illusion to date. If everything goes well, I’ll be as famous as David Copperfield.”

“I wanna help out with the trick,” Nana said. “I can act like Vanna White on
Wheel of Fortune
. I could wear a cocktail dress and turn the letters over on the sign until they’re all gone.”

Mo turned her head that was adorned with a curly red wig in Nana’s direction. “If we’re lucky, Izzy will make
you
disappear, along with the sign.”

Nana pushed her dentures forward in her mouth, like Lebron James working a mouth protector. “You’re just jealous because I’m a bigger star than you.” She turned to me. “Once I get my role on
Hollywood Girlz
established, I’ll probably get a spin-off and have my own series.”

I was starting to really feel the effects of my Moscow Monster, or whatever the hell it was, and said, “Maybe they’ll call it
Hollywood’s Golden Girlz
.”

Nana looked at my friends. “I also want to be in that magazine shoot I heard you talking about on the set yesterday.”

“Me and baby sis got us an exclusive contract,” Mo said. “And there’s no way they’re gonna want you on the cover of
Wild Child.

I set my drink down, deciding I needed to slow down. “What’s this all about?”

Natalie’s voice was pitched high with enthusiasm. “Me and Mo are gonna be in a photo spread ’bout modern women of Hollywood. We’re either gonna be dressed in our PI gear or be in costume for our TV show. It should make us even more famous.”

“You are lookin’ at a couple of celebs
du jour
,” Mo added. She glanced at Izzy. “Tell you what, if you do make Nana disappear I’ll give you half my salary for the magazine shoot.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” Izzy said. He made a gesture like he was holding an invisible wand. “Nana will be like dust in the wind.”

“Now you’re talking.”

After Nana pleaded her case not to be dust, Natalie asked me how my date with Noah had gone.

“It was a nice evening. We’re taking his therapy dogs on an outing again next weekend.”

“I think Kate’s gettin’ closer to giving it up,” Mo said.

Nana scowled at me. “You must be the world’s oldest virgin.”

Maybe it was the drink working on me, but I’d had it with their idiotic comments. “My sex life is none of your business.”

“What sex life?” Nana said. “You’d have to get a life before it would be none of our business.”

I stood up and said to my friends, “I’ve got to leave town tomorrow. Do you think you could watch Bernie?”

“Of course,” Mo said. “Where you going?”

I knew I probably shouldn’t say anything, but my friends knew all about Janice Taylor and The Swarm. I told her what was happening, saying, “Joe Dawson says she wants to talk to me.”

“She and her group of crazies are probably gonna start somethin’ again,” Mo said. “Maybe me and baby sis should go with you.”

“I got some new moves I learned in me ninja class,” Natalie added, working her hands through the air like Bruce Lee.

“Sorry, but I’m on my own. I should be back about this time tomorrow night. I’ll drop Bernie by in the morning before I leave.”

“We can take him with us to the museum,” Mo said, coming over to me. “Gladys has her cousin working there and she suspects he might have been in on the robbery. We’re gonna talk about setting up that undercover op we told you ‘bout and will probably need your help.”

“What kind of operation are you talking about?”

Mo smiled, cut her eyes to Natalie, and then back to me. “We’re still working out the details. When we get it worked out, we’ll let you know.”

I looked at Natalie who had one of her grins that always means trouble. She said, “I’m workin’ on the undercover outfits for the operation. Nobody will even recognize us.”

I shook my head, remembering some of the past antics my friends had gotten me into. “Just so you know, I’m not dressing up like a slut or a Hollywood Madam.”

“Not to worry,” Natalie said. “I might just have Izzy wave his magic wand and turn you into a princess.”

I turned and saw Izzy making a motion like he had an invisible wand again. “I’d better get out of here before he changes his mind and I end up being turned into a frog.”

I spent the rest of my evening preparing for my trip. Just before bed, I decided to try Lindsay’s number again. As her phone rang, I promised myself to make the conversation casual and non-threatening. Then a man answered.

“You don’t get it, do you?”

I realized it was Brody, or Ice, as he was now calling himself.

I kept my voice even. “Please, I just want to talk to Lindsay for a moment.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Why are you acting like this? Lindsay’s my sister and I care about her.”

There was a long pause before he said, “You need to understand something.”

I took a breath. “What’s that?”

After a hesitation, I heard him say, “Lindsay might be your sister, but she belongs to me.”

Before I could respond, the line went dead.

After dropping Bernie off with my friends the next day, the FBI sent a driver who took me to Van Nuys where the feds leased planes that flew in and out of the small airport. As we made our way through the congested traffic, I ran my hands over my briefcase. My mother’s letter was inside.

I wasn’t sure why, but at the last minute I’d decided to bring her letter with me. Maybe it had something to do with what my sister’s boyfriend had said last night about Lindsay belonging to him. His words had left me both terrified for her safety and depressed. Brody, or Ice, was dangerous and I knew my sister wasn’t safe.

It was probably naïve, and maybe even a little silly, but I thought of my mother’s letter as a talisman; giving me a sense that it held some power that could change my life and circumstances. My family’s past was still a mystery in many ways. And the more I’d thought about that and about what both my father and Noah had said about the gifts we receive in this life, the closer I felt to being ready to read what she’d written. If I had the time, I decided that I would read her letter on the plane.

My driver stopped on the airport tarmac and I made my way to the small jet that the FBI leased. I was surprised when I entered the cabin and saw Joe Dawson sitting there, since I knew he lived in Arizona.

The big FBI agent waved a hand and said, “Nice to see you, Buttercup.”

I smiled as I took a seat across from him. Dawson was in his forties, about six feet tall, with broad shoulders. His sandy hair was fading to gray, something that had probably been brought on by the cases we’d worked together. But it wasn’t his height or his build or even his square jaw that always struck me about Joe Dawson. It was his blue eyes. They were pale, a powder blue color, that reminded me of the actor Paul Newman.

I buckled in, noticing that he had a crossword puzzle in front of him. “What brings you to my neck of the woods, Joe?”

“Caught a ride out of Phoenix and convinced the pilot to make a stopover here.”

I accepted a bottle of water from the steward, then asked Dawson, “How have you been?”

He didn’t answer right away, regarding me for a moment. Finally, he said, “As good as anyone could be given my age and background.”

My lips turned up. “That covers a lot of territory.”

He returned my smile. “And you?”

I took a breath and folded my arms. “I’m…” I released the air in my lungs. “…still trying to prepare myself for what lies ahead.”

“Maybe Taylor just wants to chat, catch up on old times.”

I forced myself to smile. “I’m sure.” I decided to change the subject as our plane taxied down the runway. “What have you been up to since I last saw you?”

His pale eyes looked off and lost focus for a moment. When he looked back at me he said, “Funerals. My brother passed.”

I reached over and touched his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged. “All things considered, it was probably for the best.”

Joe Dawson’s half-brother, Lucas Caufield, had been an FBI agent at one time before being diagnosed with ALS. He’d investigated some cases on the east coast that we’d eventually realized had been connected to Janice Taylor and the group called The Swarm. Caufield had fallen in love with Taylor and she’d used him as an apprentice to facilitate her murderous crime spree. Dawson’s brother had offered clues to the killings, just enough information to help us eventually find Taylor. The last I’d heard, the DA was considering filing conspiracy charges against him, but, as someone once said, God sometimes beats the people’s attorney in prosecuting a case.

“How have you really been, Kate?”

His words made my thoughts surface. I knew he was asking about how I was coping with the losses in my life. “A day at a time, that sort of thing.”

His eyes were fixed on me. “I heard about your partner.”

I sighed, turning away from him for an instant. “I won’t lie, it’s been a difficult few months.”

“Ted was a good man.”

I let what he’d said settle in for a moment before I remembered something from when we last worked together. “Your daughter…did you ever get ahold of her?”

He nodded. “We went out to dinner. I think it cleared the air.” He smiled. “She still has some issues with her old man not being around much when she was younger.”

“I’m glad you patched things up.”

He brushed a hand over his wide jaw and glanced down at his crossword puzzle. “It’s a work in progress, just like me.”

“I see you’re still working the puzzles.”

He scribbled something and then looked up at me. “How’s the family?”

Joe Dawson knew all about my family situation, except for the fact that my love-dad, as I called him, wasn’t my biological father. We were close enough that I thought he deserved to hear the latest, so I updated him on the DNA testing I’d done, proving that the man who raised me wasn’t my biological father. I then told him about Collin Russell and my mother’s letter.

After I mentioned that I still didn’t know who my biological father was, he said, “And you still haven’t read the letter?”

I glanced at the briefcase beside me. “I brought it with me. Maybe I’ll read it on the way home. We’ll see.”

We spent the remainder of our flight catching up on mutual friends and acquaintances. Just before we landed Dawson mentioned the group that called themselves The Swarm. “I don’t know how many of them are out there, but I’m making it my personal mission to put every last one in the ground.”

I feigned surprise. “You don’t seem to think they can be rehabilitated.”

“They’re radicalized killers. There’s only one thing you can do to rehabilitate a terrorist: send them straight to hell.”

After arriving at Denver International Airport, we rented a car and drove south through Colorado Springs. It was then a short drive to Florence and the federal Administrative Maximum Facility located just outside of town.

The moment Joe Dawson and I left the car, it felt like we’d entered another world. I knew from what I’d read about the prison that it had been made expressly to cut inmates off from the real world. ADX, as it was called, was known as the Alcatraz of the Rockies. I noticed there were heavily armed patrols throughout the sprawling complex of buildings that were topped with razor wire. Several gun towers rose above the surrounding complex.

I’d been to a lot of prisons before, but the forbidding nature of the facility seemed to take the term
incarceration
to a whole other level. I scanned the horizon, seeing the beauty of the snow-capped mountains in the distance, contrasting with the harsh reality of the prison.

“Not a pleasant place,” I said to Dawson as we walked to the administrative offices.

He brushed a hand through his sandy hair. “I heard they deliver some of their prisoners by Black Hawk helicopter and that’s their last glimpse of the outside world.”

After checking in with administrative staff, we were met by the facility’s warden, Arnold Dean. As we followed Dean to the unit where Janice Taylor was housed, he told us about her incarceration and the prison.

“As soon as the inmates arrive, you can see the change in them as the reality of prison life begins to set in.” Dean stopped on the walkway and glanced at the mountains. He was a big man, with broad shoulders. His bearing and short haircut made me think he must have a military background. “They see the mountains and then the prison, and it suddenly hits them. That’s the last time they will ever see the natural world.” He locked eyes with us for a moment. “You want my opinion, life at ADX is worse than the death penalty.”

“How did our prisoner end up here?” Dawson asked. “Last I heard, you only housed male inmates.”

Dean’s dark eyes held on Dawson. “An exception was made, based on your prisoner’s crimes and her ties to the others in her group. She’s in what we call Unit H, One Seg. It’s our highest level of incarceration and segregation. And since she’s our only female prisoner, she’s been completely isolated from the other inmates in her own housing unit—not that any of them ever see one another anyway.”

“But isn’t she still pending trial?” I asked.

He nodded. “Everything’s been set up by the DOJ. She’s taken by helicopter to the federal courthouse in Denver for proceedings there and then flown back here.”

DOJ stood for Department of Justice. The fact that they’d taken a personal interest in Janice Taylor told me she was about as high on the fed’s radar as someone could get.

We moved on as Dean continued with his commentary about his prison. He seemed to take a perverse pride in the harrowing nature of his institution. “Life at ADX is what I call the living death. The prison takes away everything in the outside world, but that loss of freedom has been well earned. Our inmates are terrorists, gang members, people who have committed multiple homicides. They’re the worst of the worst.”

In a moment we entered one of the inmate housing units. Somewhere in the distance, we heard someone screaming.

Dean apparently noticed our concern and explained. “Some of our inmates become delusional. You put a person in a box twenty-three hours a day and some of them create their own world inside their heads. We see it a lot, especially with the younger inmates. They have no way to cope and eventually break down.”

Dawson, never one to show a lot of sympathy when it came to criminals, said, “The crazies get crazier. What a shame.”

Dean waved us on and we followed him down a corridor as he continued. “We have over four hundred inmates. They spend twenty-three hours alone in a seven by twelve foot concrete cell. Meals are delivered through a small hole in the door. Each cell has a window that allows some light into the room but our inmates can’t see beyond the buildings or even the sky. There’s no direct contact with other inmates, and as little contact with the guards as possible.”

As we moved through the unit, we heard the hiss and whir of electronic doors locking and unlocking. “The buildings are designed with one purpose: control. Inmates wear leg irons and chains when they’re taken to recreation. They get one hour a day outside, but it’s in a wire cage.”

The forbidding feeling that I’d had earlier only intensified as we walked down the gray corridor. I noticed there were cameras everywhere. A chemical smell, probably from cleaning solvents, permeated the air.

We turned a corner and my anxiety level spiked as Dean continued, “These cells are set aside for inmates with special administrative measures imposed by the government. Only law enforcement, lawyers, and immediate family are permitted to visit. As you’ll see, your prisoner will be on the other side of a glass window and can only speak to you by phone.”

The warden stopped outside a room identified as
Visitation
. He walked over to a control booth and spoke to one of the guards. He then came back over to us and motioned to the visitation room. “Your inmate is inside. She’s waived her right to counsel. You’re going to find that her appearance has changed since the last time you saw her.” Dean looked at me. “And she only wants to talk to you.”

“I’m going in with her,” Dawson barked. “If she’s got something to say, she says it to both of us.”

Dean took a breath, nodded. “Just be sure you check out with the admin staff when you leave.” We shook hands and he left us.

Dawson walked over to the door to the visitation area, turned the knob, and said, “Time to go through the looking glass, Alice.”