The Abbey (28 page)

Our conversation was quick because she needed to tuck Megan into bed, but it was a comforting reminder that I still had a few good things left in my life. I even got to talk to the kiddo. She had gone fishing with her Uncle Jack on the Geist reservoir and caught a catfish she claimed was big enough to swallow their boat. When Hannah got back on the phone, she called it a minnow. They were having fun, but they both wanted to come home soon. I told her that I was doing my best to make that happen; what I didn’t tell her was that my best option to do so would probably land me in jail. Some things are best left unsaid. She promised to call back the next evening.

After my call, I poured my soup into a bowl and took it along with my sandwiches outside to eat. The area was surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. When the weather was nice, the kids next door used my front lawn as part of their soccer field, so I could usually hear them all the way in the back. They were good kids and didn’t hurt anything, so Hannah and I didn’t mind. I guess my recent arrest made their parents leery of letting them play around my house.

I ate dinner quickly and silently. As I saw it, I had two realistic options to get my family back. Show everything I had to Mike Bowers or shove a gun in Karen Rea’s face. Neither were particularly good choices, although I was moderately less likely to get shot with Bowers than with Karen. The problem was that I doubted Bowers would do anything. He’d filter whatever I told him through his own assumptions and throw me in jail while he sought more information. That would leave Karen on the street, doing whatever the hell she was doing. On the other hand, if I could provoke Karen, there was a pretty good chance we’d both be in jail while Bowers continued investigating. I wasn’t a fan of jail, but if I had to go, I might as well take Karen and her lackeys off the street first.

I cleared my dishes from the table and walked back inside, trying to think things through. The plan Bukoholov gave me hinged on IMPD’s unwitting cooperation. With Bowers’ animosity toward me, I didn’t feel as if I had much to worry about in that regard, but insurance is always helpful. I went to my office. I had dropped my cell phone earlier that afternoon when I was arrested, but it still had a charge. I dialed Olivia’s home number.

“Ash.”

I could practically hear her grinding her teeth on the other end of the line.

“I’m taking care of Karen Rea tonight. I have the feeling that she’s going to be at The Abbey. It’s a bar in Plainfield. I’m going to swing by at about ten and end this before someone else gets hurt.”

Olivia was silent for a moment.

“What do you mean ‘end this’?”

“Use your imagination,” I said.

“Have you, uhm… do you…” began Olivia. I heard her sigh. “We should talk about this in person. I’ll meet you somewhere.”

“No. I appreciate the offer, but I’m done talking. I’ve got to end this now before someone else gets hurt.”

“Okay,” said Olivia, drawing the syllable out, as if she were thinking. “I’ll meet you there. If I go with you, we can talk this through. Do it together.”

“No. The place is going to be crowded enough as it is. I wanted to call to let you know what was up in case something happens.”

“Think about this. It’s not a good idea.”

“I have, and I haven’t got a choice. Take care of yourself if anything happens to me. I’m probably going to stir up some trouble tonight.”

“I’d really prefer if you didn’t.”

“I don’t have an option. Take care, Olivia.”

I hung up before she could respond. If Bowers and his men truly had my phone tapped as Olivia had said earlier, they now knew where I was going to be and when I planned to leave. The only way to be more explicit would be to send them an e–mail with directions in case they got lost. I grabbed my bottle of bourbon from my car and took it to my back porch to enjoy what I figured might be the last free night I’d have for quite a while.

Before I left, I wrote two letters, one to my wife and one to my daughter, and put them on the coffee table. I had never written letters like those before, but the words came easily enough. I told my wife that I loved her, and I told Megan that I was proud of her. Hopefully they’d never have to be read.

When that was completed, I hopped in my car and sped off. It was early, a few minutes after nine, but I was antsy. My street was dark and had relatively few cars, which made it easy to see if anyone was following me. I occasionally saw flashes of light in my rear–view mirror as headlights turned a corner, but no one was close. It wasn’t until I turned out of my neighborhood that a late–model Pontiac caught my attention. It stayed a few cars back, but it slowed when I did and turned every time I did. My shoulders relaxed a bit, and my breath came a little easier. I may not have had much, but at least I had backup.

The drive to Plainfield was thirty–five minutes of monotony until I came to The Abbey. The place was busy as hell. There were cars circling its gravel lot looking for spots, while many in four–wheel–drive vehicles simply parked on the neighboring fields. I’m sure the farmers loved that. There were people everywhere, many of whom were drinking beside their cars before going in. I imagined the club’s management would have put a stop to that if they had known about it, but the bouncers were so busy checking IDs and frisking party goers that I doubted they had even seen it.

I drove slowly, the gravel crunching under my car’s tires until I came to the small employee’s lot behind the building. Like the front, every parking spot was taken, but I didn’t care. I parked behind Azrael’s gray
BMW
, blocking him in. I looked around before turning off my car. I couldn’t see the Pontiac, but hopefully it was still around.

My heart thudded against my breastbone, so I took a couple of deep breaths to get it under control. I’m not sure why, but reality took that moment to hit me. I was going to shove a gun in a cocaine dealer’s face while surrounded by her supporters. When put in that light, it didn’t seem that bright, even if it was the best plan I could come up with. I took more breaths, forcing my heart to resume its normal pace as I opened my door.

Slim was still in charge of the bouncers at the front door. I skipped the line and flashed my ID at him. He looked at me from my head to toe as if gauging my intentions. He nodded to the other bouncers to let me through. Since I knew where I was going this time, I skipped the front room and went straight to the club’s main room. There were a hell of a lot more people there than the last time, but none stood out on my quick scan of the room.

I forced my way through the crowd. The club goers were drunker than they had been on my previous visit, and several ran into me along the way. Some offered slurred apologies while others ignored me. One girl in a lacy, white bustier even licked her lips, exposing artificial fangs, and motioned me forward when I came near. Old guys were in apparently. I put my hands up and smiled no thanks as I made my way towards the bar area. Mick tossed ice and bottles of beer into a cooler as I leaned against the counter. He didn’t notice me.

“Hey.”

I shouted to be heard over the music until Mick looked up and tossed me a beer. I twisted off the cap and nodded thanks as he stood straight.

“You want to tell some of my other customers off?”

“Not tonight.”

The auxiliary bartender shouted something I couldn’t understand, and Mick leaned under the bar and grabbed a pitcher of thick, red syrup and a stack of clear, plastic cups the size of shot glasses. He filled each cup halfway with the red syrup and slid them down towards his partner who finished the drink with vodka. A redheaded waitress grabbed a tray full of them and disappeared.

“What do you want?” he asked, taking a break and leaning against the bar once the drinks were dispensed. “I’ve got shit to do.”

“Wrap it up because something’s going down tonight. How many fire exits does this place have?”

Mick furrowed his brow and cocked his head at me.

“Enough. Why?”

“Because you need to make sure they’re unlocked. Trust me.”

Mick shook his head and pointed toward the exit.

“For your own good, get out before you do something stupid,” he said. “These people you’re messing with are seriously pissed off, and I’m getting there myself.”

I shook my head.

“I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got plainclothes detectives in your parking lot and inside. My advice is to stay near an exit.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“I’m sure you don’t mean that,” I said, taking a step back from the bar and looking over my shoulder at the balcony overlooking the dance floor. I motioned towards it with my head. “Those are your
VIP
rooms, right?”

I didn’t think Mick was going to answer for a moment, but he eventually nodded.

“Remember what I said,” I said. “For your own good, make sure every exit is open. Try to stay near one if you can.”

Mick muttered something else, but I couldn’t hear him above the club’s music. His tips would be down for the night, but long term he’d be better off if I took out the trash for him. I put my beer on the bar and slipped back through the crowd. I noticed at least one skirt hitched up higher than it ought to have been as a couple gyrated against each other on the dance floor. The two were so intent on groping each other that they barely noticed me as I passed.

The stairway to the
VIP
room was in the old narthex. The crowd was much more sedate there, and the music was softer. I looked around, hoping I could see a face familiar from my days with the department, but came up with nothing. They had to have been there, though. I did everything but specifically say I was going to kill Karen Rea on the phone; Bowers had to act on that. I reached behind me and felt the gun Bukoholov had given me to make sure it was still there. Locked and loaded. Now or never.

I stepped across the room toward a narrow, winding staircase on the right side. There was a rope across the opening with a sign hanging from it that said the balcony was closed. I ignored it and started climbing steps. I felt the wood slip under my feet, but the music was so loud I couldn’t hear it creak.

When I reached the top of the stairs, there was a tight turn before I entered the
VIP
room. I paused there for a moment and caught my breath before rounding the corner and getting my first peek of Karen’s private world.

The balcony ran the entire length of the old sanctuary. At one time, it probably had seats for forty or fifty people. Now there were tables in the center and chaise lounges along the walls. Unlike the regular club goers, those in the
VIP
room had glass champagne flutes and actual glasses. One entire table was covered in bottles of vodka and other liquors. Several faces turned towards me as I walked up, including an Asian one with a Maori tribal symbol running from his cheek to neck. Azrael leaned over to talk to the woman he was standing beside.

She cocked her head at me and raised an eyebrow as Azrael whispered. Unless I missed my mark completely, I was looking at Karen Rea. She was Asian and wore a lacy black top, which she filled out very nicely. I could appreciate that even on a crazy person. I crossed the balcony towards an open spot overlooking the club’s main room and waited for her to walk over. From my vantage, I could see the entire dance floor, so if Mike’s men were watching, they’d see everything I did.

Karen smiled at me. Her lips were full, and her eyes had crows feet at the corner. Judging by the dates on her CV, she was probably in her mid–forties, but she looked as good as any of the twenty–something girls on the floor. She stood so close to me that she could probably rest her head on my chest had she wanted to. She smelled like Dove soap.

“You broke into my house and now you’re following me when I’m out with my friends. Better be careful, your pretty wife might get jealous.”

“You killed my niece. My marital welfare should be the least of your concerns, bitch.”

The smile dropped from her face, and she took a step back, every pair of eyes in the balcony on us.

“Sticks and stones, Detective Rashid. If that’s all you have, please leave.”

I shot my eyes around the space. There were at least eight people on the balcony in addition to me, and so far, they were staying back. I needed a scene. I licked my lips.

“I’m not making accusations. I’m stating facts,” I said, straining my voice to be heard over the music. I fixed my eyes on a college–aged kid with spiked pink hair. He wore a mesh shirt and was drinking what looked like champagne. “What’d you tell your followers about Rachel Haddad?”

The blond kid’s lips curled to reveal a pair of fake fangs, but he made no other move. At least I was getting a reaction.

“What I tell my friends is none of your concern.”

I nodded and looked over the crowd.

“How about Caitlin Long?” I asked, sweeping my gaze back to Karen. “Did you tell your friends that you had a teenager raped and murdered?”

Azrael stepped toward me, but Karen put her hand across his chest.

“If you’re trying to shock us, it won’t work. I’d like you to leave, now.”

“Or how about Alicia Weinstein? She was tortured for being your friend,” I said, casting my eyes around the group. I rolled my fingers above my arm to illustrate the point. “Cigarette burns all over her body. Even for a vampire that must have hurt like hell.”

Several of Karen’s followers stood. I was getting somewhere.

“Leave or you’re going over the balcony,” said Karen.

I hesitated for a moment. Being thrown off the balcony would get attention; it’d also get the jackasses who did it arrested immediately, which could be quite helpful. An attempted murder charge carried a lot of weight. I’d seen suspects flip on family members to avoid it. On the other hand, if I went over the edge, I’d probably break my legs, something I wanted to avoid if at all possible. I reached behind me and felt the gun Bukoholov had given me.

“I’m not done talking,” I said, taking a few steps back and pulling the weapon from its holster. Karen’s chest rose slightly as she inhaled, but the surprise didn’t reach her eyes. I glanced at the crowd below us and licked my lips. I was pretty hard to miss, so Mike’s men would storm the place at any moment. All I had to do was hold on. “Back up.”