Redzone (27 page)

So what did that mean? Was the person who owned the truck a vet, a farrier, or both? The Bonebreaker figured he'd start with the vets. All he had to do was look them up online, drive to their various offices, and check the trucks that were parked nearby.

With that in mind he had left the ossuary just before dawn, taken a bus to an adjacent neighborhood, and was looking for a vehicle to steal when he saw the mail van. It was sitting in the parking lot in front of a strip mall. And that was when it struck him. No one paid any attention to mail carriers. They were part of the urban wallpaper—always there but nearly transparent.

The driver was sitting behind the wheel sorting mail. So when the Bonebreaker strolled over to the passenger side of the van and jerked the door open the mailman turned. “What are you . . .” as the .22 caliber bullet hit him in the face. The mailman's head jerked, and as his body went limp, it fell toward the Bonebreaker. The serial killer took advantage of that by climbing inside and muscling the body into the back of the vehicle. There was a central aisle with shelving on both sides, and that was the perfect place to put the corpse.

The Bonebreaker wasn't dressed like the carrier, but the man's postal jacket was a good fit and enough to give the right impression. What money the dead man had went into the Bonebreaker's wallet along with a pearl-handled pocketknife.

From there it had been a ninety-minute drive to Nuevo, where the sedan pulled out in front of him. Then the
real
work began. That involved visiting each vet's place of business to look for the truck. But it soon became apparent that what seemed like a straightforward operation wasn't. Because
even though there was no sign of the vehicle at Dr. Tolly's office, that didn't mean much. Maybe she had
two
trucks, was out visiting a patient, or was on vacation. Or maybe all sorts of things. And if the Bonebreaker entered Tolly's office asking questions, he would not only attract attention to himself, he might tip the killer off as well.

So all the Bonebreaker and the dead mailman could do was make their rounds and hope for some good luck. Or, perhaps God would intervene on his behalf, although the deity had been very stingy with assistance of late. Police work was hard.

*   *   *

In keeping with the LAPD's thrifty ways Lee had been booked into an unassuming hotel located near work. After checking in, Lee went up to a small room, where she took a shower and made full use of the complimentary shampoo, soap, and skin lotion.

Then, having freshened up to the extent she could—Lee took the elevator down to the lobby, where Kane was waiting for her. He came forward to give her a kiss. “Cassandra! I'm so glad that you're okay.”

“Thanks for coming,” Lee said. “It's like I told you on the phone, I need
everything
, and I can't drive a police car until my temporary license comes through.”

“No problem,” Kane said. “I'll take you to dinner. Then we'll go shopping.”

“That sounds good,” Lee said. “Except that we need to stop by Grady's Gun Store first. I need some ammo and a couple of holsters. Unless you'd like to date a lady who walks around with a Glock stuck down the back of her pants.”

Kane laughed. “That would never do. How about money? I'd be glad to loan you some.”

“I have that covered,” Lee told him. “I made it to the bank just before closing time.”

“Good,” Kane said. “We're off.”

An hour and twenty minutes later they were sitting opposite each other in Caputo's Italian Restaurant. A very nice place that was adjacent to the Grove Shopping Mall. Lee had no choice but to carry her weapons and the holsters in a shopping bag until she could buy at least one jacket. “So, you're back on the job,” Kane said. “What's next?”

“Some clothes and girl things,” Lee replied. “Plus a place to live. Remember what you said about the room dedicated to my father? That's gone now. Along with everything related to him.”

“Yes,” Kane said. “I
do
remember. So you have an opportunity to start anew.”

“Exactly,” Lee said, as she took a sip of wine.

“Here's an idea,” Kane said. “Why not stay with me while you look for an apartment? You're already familiar with the guest room—not to mention the resident chef.”

Lee eyed him over the rim of her glass. “Is this yet another part of your plan to seduce me?”

Kane nodded. “Yes, but the process is taking forever.”

Lee laughed. “Sorry, I promise to become seducible in the near future.”

“So you'll come?”

“Maybe, but there's something I want you to consider.”

“Which is?”

“I'm a target. Something you experienced during our
first
date. The same thing could happen again.”

Kane smiled. “I'm aware of that. You warned me earlier.”

“Yet you're willing to hang out with me anyway?”

“I'm here, aren't I?”

“Yes, and I'm glad you are.”

The food arrived at that point, and it was very good. Once the meal was over they went to the mall where, in keeping with Wolfe's prediction, Lee bought a week's worth of jeans, tee shirts, and a couple of waist-length jackets. Some underwear and a pair of combat boots completed the interim
wardrobe. Then Kane drove her to his condo, helped carry her shopping bags upstairs, and promised to wake her at 5:00
A.M.
A cop was missing—and Lee was determined to find her.

*   *   *

Baxter produced a grunt of pain as the riding crop cut into her left breast. Dr. Mike nodded knowingly. “That hurt, didn't it, bitch? More than you're letting on. And it will get worse tomorrow.”

The so-called Equipment Room was located at the back of the concrete building and was furnished with thousands of dollars worth of S&M gear. That included an X-shaped rack, an adjustable torture table, and all manner of “gear.”

Ropes had been fastened to the leather cuffs on Baxter's wrists. And by passing them through ceiling-mounted pulleys, Dr. Mike had been able to hoist the policewoman up so that her feet were six inches off the floor. Then, by pulling her ankles apart and securing them to ring bolts set into the concrete, the vet had been able to expose every part of her. And not just for
his
enjoyment. No, thanks to the video Fred was making, hundreds if not thousands of other people would get to see
Torment 3
.

Like Dr. Mike, Fred was wearing a black hood to protect her identity. But, except for a garter belt, fishnet stockings, and a pair of red high heels, she was naked. Something that would be apparent to viewers after the footage from a stationary camera was cut into the final production.

Meanwhile Fred was getting medium and tight shots using a handheld camera. She zoomed in to capture the red welt left by the riding crop as well as the hypodermic needle that was sticking through Baxter's nipple. All of which was preliminary to the final scene, which would be recorded soon. Once the final denouement was over, Fred would edit the snuff film and sell it to a distributor in the red zone. He would charge collectors up to five hundred eagles per copy.
It was, to Fred's way of thinking, an enjoyable way to make some extra money.

*   *   *

Baxter didn't know which was worse. To see the next blow coming—or to be caught by surprise. But that was a tactical issue. Of more importance was to save as much of her personhood as she could. The LAPD was searching for her, of that she was sure, but what would they find? A basket case? Or a person who could recover from what she'd been through and live a normal life?
You aren't going to die tonight,
Baxter told herself.
Dr. Mike said that the pain will get worse tomorrow. And that's a good thing.

The cop struck her right breast, causing Baxter to utter a yelp of pain. “She felt that one,” Dr. Mike said to the camera. “Now watch
this
.”

*   *   *

Kane dropped Lee off at 6:30
A.M.
, and by 7:00, she was in a meeting with Yanty and Prospo. Both looked tired. “Good to have you back,” Yanty said. “Even if you are a crap magnet.”

“I like the new look,” Prospo added. “Oh, wait a minute, it's the
same
look.”

Lee grinned. “Thanks . . . I feel better now. All right . . . What, if anything, have we got?”

Prospo looked at Yanty, who shrugged. “The truth is that we don't have anything worth talking about. We finished the photo comparison process an hour ago. There were three bumpers that had some sort of vise bolted to them—but only one that was located on the right side. That belonged to a plumber in Nuevo, but the truck was totaled two months ago.”

“And the DMV sticker.”

“Nada.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

All of them were silent for a while. Lee felt as if she should provide some sort of guidance. Some glimmer of hope. But she had nothing to offer. Finally she gave the only instructions she could. “Okay . . . Let's pull up pictures of the trucks that belong to the vets in LA County and check them out.”

Yanty groaned. “You must be kidding.”

“Got a better idea?”

“No.”

“Then let's get to work. There are three of us this time, so the work will go more quickly.”

It took more than an hour to pull up all the vet licenses for LA County, compare the names to DMV database, select the vehicles identified as trucks, download the related photo files, and divide by three. Then came the mind-numbing work of plowing through Lee's share of the list. She was two and a half hours into the process when her new disposable phone rang. She eyed the incoming call, saw that it was from ENOB9, and placed her thumb on the green bar. “Yeah?”

“I have the bastard,” the Bonebreaker said.

Lee felt a sudden surge of hope. “What does that mean?”

“I'm in Nuevo, and when I pulled into the drive-through for the local burger joint, I found myself behind a pickup. It has a utility bumper complete with the DMV sticker on the left and a vise on the right.”

Lee's heart began to beat like a trip-hammer. “Where are you now?”

“Where the hell do you
think
I am? I'm following the truck.”

“Have you got a license number for me?”

The Bonebreaker read it off, and Lee wrote it down. “What kind of vehicle are you driving?”

The Bonebreaker laughed. “Get serious.”

“Okay, I'm on the way.”

“Come alone,” the Bonebreaker said. “If cops swarm the area the deal is off.”

Lee swallowed. “Give him plenty of room, and if he stops, let me know immediately.”

“Stop talking and get your butt in gear,” the Bonebreaker replied. Then the line went dead.

Lee ran the license number, and bingo, there it was: Dr. Michael Valentine. She entered the name into her browser and got a second hit. Valentine was a vet all right—with offices in Nuevo. Now she was in a bind. The Bonebreaker wanted her to go to Nuevo alone, but that was a bad idea. It could be a trap for one thing. A way to get her alone so he could kill her.

But that was just the tip of the iceberg. She had her badge back but was sure to lose it again if she ignored the LAPD protocols that applied to such situations. And there was zero chance that Corso would save her ass the second time around.

Plus there was the fact that the town of Nuevo was outside of the LAPD's jurisdiction. And that meant all sorts of shit would fly if she rolled into town and made an arrest. So Lee made the decision to do something radical, for her anyway, and that was to consult with her boss. Wolfe was in her office. She looked up from her terminal. “Yes?”

“I need help,” Lee said. “And I need it fast.”

Wolfe's eyes widened. “What's up?”

“One of my informants is tailing the vehicle that Vasquez was abducted in and was probably used to dump his body. It belongs to a vet named Dr. Michael Valentine. He has offices in Nuevo, and if he's holding Baxter, then every second counts.”

Wolfe frowned. “Nuevo is outside our jurisdiction.”

“Correct. And, if my informant sees any cops, he's going to break it off.”

“Is your informant wanted?”

“Big-time.”

This was a critical moment from Lee's perspective. Would Wolfe step up? Or create a committee and convene a meeting? The answer came quickly as Wolfe stood and made a grab for her purse. “We'll take my car. You drive while I take care of the logistics.”

Lee didn't have the temporary driver's permit yet—but decided to ignore that as they ran for the elevator. It took them down to the parking area where they hurried over to Wolfe's sedan. Lee had the siren and grill lights going by the time they hit the street. She was on I-5 within a matter of minutes and swore steadily as some of the motorists took their own sweet time about pulling over. The car sped south to the junction with 60 and turned east. From there it was a straight shot. As Lee drove Wolfe made use of her cell phone and the car's radio to get the necessary arrangements in place. And because it was her, rather than Lee, there was very little pushback.

Lee was going eighty, and waiting for a semi to pull over, when her phone rang. She brought it up to her right ear. “Yeah?”

“The truck pulled into the parking lot in front of an outfit called Valentine Animal Boarding, and a man got out. He entered the building.”

Lee already had two addresses for Valentine, but it made sense to check. “What's the street address?”

The Bonebreaker told her, and Lee was careful to repeat it so Wolfe could hear it. “Thanks,” Lee said. “Let me know if he leaves.”

“Bullshit,” the Bonebreaker said. “I'm out of here.” The line went dead.

“Asshole,” Lee said, as she placed the phone on the center console.