Serial Date: A Leine Basso Thriller (14 page)

Chapter 22

The target ended
up being at the second location Leine checked—Hollywood Boulevard. The woman's blonde hair looked as though it hadn't been washed in weeks and her mini skirt and too-small tank top left little to the imagination. Heavy makeup obscured what might have been a pretty face. Stilettos completed the outfit.

Leine gauged her to be in her early to mid-twenties. She watched as she and two other young ladies in similar attire worked the various men who cruised by in their cars and rolled down their windows.

One of her friends scored and left with a paunchy-looking middle aged guy. Maria's other friend discreetly snapped a picture of the license plate with her phone. Leine pulled alongside the two women. She needed to have a word with Maria before she succeeded in finding a client.

Her friend noticed her first and nudged Maria with her elbow. Maria turned and stared at Leine with suspicion.

Leine rolled the passenger window down.

“Can I speak with Maria for a moment?”

With a backward glance at her friend, Maria walked up to the car window. “Do I know you?”

“We have a mutual acquaintance. I need to talk with you alone. It's important.” Leine smiled. “No funny business. We can stay nearby.”

Maria said something to her friend who sized Leine up as she took out her phone and snapped a picture of her license plate. Maria opened the door and got into the car.

“Good idea, in case your friend there needs to describe the vehicle, right?”

Maria nodded. “Better safe than sorry.” Leine drove a few blocks and pulled to the curb outside a flower shop.

Maria turned to look at Leine. “So what do you have to tell me? Or is this your way of getting a date?”

Leine shook her head. “I wish it was that easy.” She reached inside her bag and produced an envelope filled with cash. She showed it to her and then returned it to her purse. Maria's gaze lingered on the envelope before she dragged her focus back to Leine.

“Now that I have your attention: You need to understand what you decide to do is going to determine whether you live or die.”

Maria's expression morphed from one of surprise at the amount of money Leine showed her to one of fear and suspicion. She reached for the door handle. Her carefully manicured nails clicked against the vinyl.

“I need to go.”

Leine nodded. “I know how this sounds. Hear me out, Maria. A man we both know wants you dead. I'm here to help you stay alive, but you have to listen to me.”

“Really? Who? I haven't done anything to piss anyone off that much. My customers always leave satisfied.” Maria lifted her chin, defiant.

Acting on a hunch, Leine answered, “You've seen his face. That's enough.”

“I've seen a lot of faces. Who are you talking about?”

“I can't tell you that. I can tell you he wanted to be sure you died by fire and to somehow include a bunch of pink gerbera daisies.”

Her eyes widened. She slumped against the car door and stared out the window, her face drained of color.

“Oh, man. Callie told me the dude was bad news.” She shook her head and closed her eyes. “I only went with him once. He was way too creepy.”

“Why fire?”

“He paid me to talk about what scared me the most. I told him I thought being burned to death would be the worst. It got him off.”

“And the daisies?”

“He asked me what kind of flowers I liked. I'd just seen those big daisy things in a store window the day before, so I told him that.” She stared out the window at the flower shop.

Leine's heart beat faster. “Maria, can you describe him to me, to make sure we're talking about the same guy?”

“Yeah. Tall, wiry dude. Brown hair, dark, super intense eyes. I think he said he was Cherokee. And French.”

French. He's related
. “Why would you know that?”

Maria shrugged. “Gotta make small talk, right?”

“Where'd you guys go? Did he take you back to his place?”

“No. I never do that. We went to a motel down the way.”

Leine hid her disappointment as she reached into her purse to retrieve the envelope.

“The cash comes with one stipulation. You have to use it to leave town. I don't care how you do it, but do it. This guy isn't someone you want to mess with. You have to leave tonight. If you don't I guarantee you will be dead.”

Maria stared at the money for a minute, then nodded and held out her hand.

Leine handed her the cash. “You'll need to be discreet. Make sure no one follows you. I can take you to your apartment. He doesn't know this car.”

Maria didn't reply immediately. She looked out the window for a few minutes, considering, then back at Leine.

“Go up two blocks, turn right, and follow the road about a mile. My apartment building's on the left.”

“There's no way he knows where you live?”

She shook her head. “I don't usually sleep there.”

“Good. I'll make sure you get out of town safely. Call your friend to let her know you're okay.”

After Leine helped Maria pack up her things they drove to the bus station in downtown L.A. and bought a ticket to San Francisco, where a friend of Maria's lived. Leine waited until she saw her board and the bus pull out of the station before she continued with the rest of her plan.

***

Santiago Jensen parked a few lanes down from Leine's rental and slipped inside the bus station. It was risky to follow them, but he kept to the perimeter and she didn't see him. He watched as she bought the hooker a ticket and put her on a bus for San Francisco, then he trailed her to Good Samaritan. He decided to stay in his car for this one. He'd spent enough time in hospitals.

Probably going to see a sick friend, he thought. That would explain some of the odd behavior, but it wasn't enough. He had no idea why she'd buy a hooker a bus ticket, but he was confident it would all come together. He just needed to be patient.

Jensen turned his radio on and waited.

***

The scrubs were the easy part. Leine slipped into an empty room and found several pair, neatly folded on a gurney waiting to be put away. She pulled on a set and eased the door open, checking the hallway for people. Not seeing anyone, she walked purposefully down the corridor to a door marked “Employees Only.”

Her luck held. She only had to wait a couple of minutes before a man dressed in scrubs came out. She smiled and murmured some pleasantry as he held the door for her, then walked past him into a short hallway. A door stood on each side; one for men and one for women. Leine chose the door to the women's locker room and slipped inside.

Full-length lockers lined the walls with benches in the middle. Toilet stalls and sinks were in a separate room with several showers in an adjacent space. Leine scanned the lockers, but most had combination locks on them. She walked by the lounge area where a younger woman sat on a couch, reading a magazine. She didn't look up. Leine moved quickly into the shower area.

The sound of running water led her to the far stall. A towel, a pair of slacks and underwear hung from a hook next to the shower. A plastic ID card on a cord dangled from another hook nearby. Leine slipped it into her pocket and was out the door just as the water stopped.

She took the elevator to the basement and followed the floor plan from memory to the morgue. It was unmarked but easy to find, situated next to a loading dock in the back of the hospital. Leine followed the corridor past the morgue, until she came to a fire alarm, also indicated on the floor plan. She removed two foam ear plugs from her pocket and inserted them, then pulled the alarm.

She waited until the door to the morgue opened and several employees spilled into the hallway, headed toward the nearest exit. In the ensuing chaos, no one noticed as she swiped the ID card in the reader and stepped inside.

The lights blinked on and off in the efficient white room as the alarm blared. Cold stainless steel and bleach-clean linoleum greeted her as she walked quickly through the offices into the holding area. The far wall was made up completely of body drawers. She opened several, reading the information on the toe tags until she found a cadaver about the right age. After a quick hunt in the autopsy room, she spotted a stainless tray filled with the tools of the trade. She selected a gleaming stainless bone saw and returned to the open drawer.

Folding back a portion of the sheet covering the body she assessed the hand. The fingernails sported bright pink nail polish and the fingers looked similar in size and color to Maria's, with smooth knuckles like hers. Leine judged the length of the corpse to approximate her height. She had no idea how much detail Azazel remembered about the young woman, but she wasn't taking any chances.

Leine took a deep breath as she positioned the saw at the slender wrist and began to cut. Detaching the hand took more effort than Leine planned, her concentration off because of the blinking lights and incessant alarm. Glad for the sharp blade, it reminded her of cutting up a tough chicken, but with more cartilage. If she ever had to do this kind of thing again, she thought, she'd bring an electric saw.

Once she'd severed the tendons in the wrist, she pulled an opaque plastic bag from her pocket and placed the hand inside. With a quick glance at the door, she draped the cover back over the corpse and started to close the drawer but noticed something odd and stopped.

Her heart in her throat, she carefully drew back a larger section of the covering, exposing a feminine face with a five-o'clock shadow. Further down revealed an Adam's apple. Leine didn't need to look any further. Holding her breath, she checked the information on the toe tag again.

'T. Layton' M, 27yo.

How did she miss the 'M'? Her anxiety rising, Leine fished the severed hand from the bag and placed it next to the stump. She slid the door shut and returned to her search, refusing to think about what just happened.

Even with the ear plugs, the alarm was distracting. Leine knew she was running out of time and hurriedly scanned the names, checking only those indicating a female. The fifth drawer yielded a fairly decent specimen.

The second try at severing the hand took more effort. Leine assumed the saw blade had been dulled by the first attempt. With a silent apology to both bodies she detached the dead woman's hand at the wrist and shoved it in the bag. Then she shut the drawer, returned the saw and hurried to the door leading to the hall. No one was visible. She removed the scrubs, left them on a gurney in the hallway and slipped out a side door.

***

Heather Sinclair stretched out in her bikini on the chaise longue next to the pool. The contestants on Serial Date used the outdoor pool extensively, but today she had it all to herself. Everyone else was on set, prepping for next week's show. Peter had given Heather the afternoon off, since she already shot that week's promo. Besides, when Stacy took off with Devon, it allowed Heather the chance to move into the spotlight and share top billing with Tina; which meant she didn't have to work as hard to get camera time.

She took a sip of her mojito, adjusted her sunglasses and sighed contentedly. Life was good. Her career had finally taken off. A talent scout contacted her that morning, offering a sizable contract on another reality show as soon as Serial Date wrapped.  Aware she could only count on a few good years in the industry before she'd be forced to accept supporting actress roles, Heather had hustled. Blackmailing the senator was icing on the cake.

She smiled to herself. Men were so easy. Especially old, vain ones. All a girl had to do was find their Achilles' heel as her mom referred to it, and the rest fell into place. Expensive gifts, cars, and a house in Malibu. What more could a girl want? She'd emailed a link of the private YouTube video of one of her wilder encounters with Runyon to her best friend, Letitia, and to her mom in Daytona Beach for safe keeping. Both women had instructions not to release the video unless Heather asked them to.

The clear blue water beckoned and Heather languidly rose from the chaise and walked to the pool's edge. Her designer sunglasses on, she climbed down the steps into the deep end.

Careful not to get her hair wet, she breast-stroked across the pool a couple of times. Hugging the side, she turned her back to the wall and closed her eyes, letting her head fall back to soak in the sun.

A strong hand clamped down on her head and shoved her under water. Thinking it might be one of the other contestants joking with her, she tried to swim out from under their grasp. The grip on her head tightened.

This is so not funny, Heather thought, her annoyance growing.
My hair will be a mess. Wait until I see who you are, bitch. Then you won't think it's so hilarious.
She clawed at the hand but realized the glove they wore lessened the impact. Her strength was no match for theirs.

Panicked, Heather doubled her efforts, but only succeeded in being thrust deeper under water. Her ferocious kicking and clawing began to lose momentum as she inhaled the first wave of chlorinated water into her lungs.