Keri Locke 05-A Trace of Hope Read online

  He opened his mouth and for a second it looked like he might try to convince her to stop. But then he stopped himself. He sighed deeply as if accepting his fate.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have accepted this assignment,” he finally said, more to himself than to her.

  “No,” Keri agreed, “you really shouldn’t have.”

  Then she gave the rope one last slice and it cut loose. The Black Widower never made a sound as he hurtled to the ground. A few seconds later, she heard a sickening wet crunch and knew that it was over. She had no desire to look down.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ray was lowering the Black Widower’s climbing harness down to Keri a couple of minutes later when her car exploded. Even a quarter mile above it, she could feel the hot gust of gasoline air on her skin.

  Despite the shock of it, there was nothing for them to do but resume their efforts. Keri was still perched dangerously on the small rock outcropping. A major wind gust could send her flying down to join the broken body on the rocks below her. And with no cell service, Ray would have had to go down to the main road if he wanted to call for backup. They couldn’t risk it.

  So she strapped in and he pulled her slowly up until she was over the lip of the cliff. When she knew she was safe, Keri crawled over and sprawled out next to Ray, who had collapsed onto his back, teeming with sweat despite the morning cold. They lay there on the asphalt edge of the Tuna Canyon Road turnout until they felt the strength to stand.

  Ray helped Keri into the passenger’s seat of his car before shuffling over to the driver’s side. He got in and simply sat there, too wiped out to start the car. After a good two minutes, he turned and got his first good look at her.

  She saw his eyes grow wide as he took in her ripped clothes, torn up legs, raw hands, and dirty, blood-soaked face. She could still taste bits of flesh from the wrist of the man lying in the canyon below and could guess what her mouth must look like, stained with his blood.

  “What the hell, Keri?” he finally asked.

  “It was the Black Widower,” she told him. “The assassin who killed the guy holding Evie, the guy who gave me that lead about the Vista without realizing it was me—Cave had him try to take me out.”

  “So I’m guessing your conversation with Cave didn’t go as you hoped?” Ray said wryly.

  “No, it did not. For a moment there, I thought it might. But then, not so much, as evidenced by the whole hit man thing. I can fill you in on all the details later. Right now, I just need a few gallons of water and a whole bottle of Advil.”

  “All right,” Ray agreed. “Let’s head down the hill to that diner. I think there was a convenience store attached to it. I need to get somewhere with a decent cell signal anyway so I can call this in.”

  “Actually, Ray, maybe you could hold off on calling it in. I had an idea I wanted to run by you.”

  Ray squinted suspiciously at her and she knew immediately that something in the tone of her voice had given her away. Her proposal was going to be trouble and Ray had picked up on it immediately. He knew her too well—as well as she knew him. And that’s why she was pretty sure he was going to hate her idea.

  *

  As Keri had suspected, Ray hated her idea with a passion. But in the end, he agreed to go along with it. That was partly because he didn’t have a better one. But she knew it was mostly because he didn’t have the heart to fight her, not when he looked at her battered face and body and listened to her say that despite it all, she needed to push a little harder if it meant finding her little girl.

  When they’d reached the convenience store at the corner of Tuna Canyon and the Pacific Coast Highway, Ray called for a cab. Then he’d gone into the store, gotten Keri two thirty-two-ounce water bottles, a bear claw, a bottle of Advil, and an extra large “Surf Malibu” sweatshirt with a hoodie.

  He’d helped her take off her bloody jacket and put on the sweatshirt, even easing the hood over her head so that it completely obscured her face. When the taxi arrived, he helped her in and gave the driver his address and enough cash to cover the ride and a generous tip.

  Keri went over the plan in her head repeatedly on the taxi ride back to his place. She wanted to make sure she had everything clear so she wouldn’t forget. But staying focused on the plan also helped her ignore the pain that lapped up at her every second she allowed her mind to wander.

  While Keri rode back to Ray’s place in silence, he would call in the crash and attack. But his version of events would differ a bit from what actually happened. He would report that he’d seen a man in a black Lincoln Continental riding close behind Keri down the hill and ultimately force her off the road at the turnout.

  He’d seen Keri’s car go over the cliff, then the driver of the Lincoln get out with a gun and go to the edge of the cliff. He’d shot the driver, who fell into the canyon. When he looked over the side, he saw that Keri’s car had exploded. He didn’t see her body and assumed she must have been inside the vehicle when it exploded.

  Ray had especially disliked this part of the plan but Keri had convinced him that it might actually be to their advantage for her to be “dead,” or at least for everyone, especially Jackson Cave, to think she was.

  For one thing, if everyone thought she had already died, people would stop trying to kill her. Keri especially liked that idea. Her body was one big, pulsating bruise and she needed at least a few hours to rest, if not really recover.

  Also, if there really was a mole in their unit, as the Ghost had suggested, making the entire team think she’d died would prevent that mole from trying to determine what she was up to and leaking it to their connection. If she was dead, there was no reason to keep looking for intelligence to pass along.

  In addition, if Cave thought she was dead, he might let his guard down. He wouldn’t worry that she was coming after him and consider moving the Vista or cancelling it outright. She needed him to have the confidence to continue with the plan, to continue with the event that was supposed to lead to her daughter’s death.

  That was because, for the first time in a long time, Keri felt she had the upper hand. She was pretty sure she knew the identity of at least one person who would be attending the Vista tonight. And if she knew that, she could determine where it would be held, which meant she knew where Evie would be.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Who’s this guy again?” Mags asked, as she dabbed a cotton ball at the cut on Keri’s right temple. “The name sounds familiar.”

  Keri was sitting in Ray’s bathtub, soaking her entire body in warm water and Epsom salt, explaining the situation to her friend while trying to pretend the sting of the salt in her multiple open wounds didn’t bother her, even though her eyes kept rimming involuntarily with tears.

  Mags had come over to Ray’s place about an hour earlier after getting a call on one of her burner cell phones from one he’d just bought. As per Keri’s instructions, he’d filled her in on the basics and asked her to get to his apartment as quickly as possible, with just one stop for a pickup along the way.

  Mags had done it all without question, making the unusual pickup and showing up at Ray’s with all manner of first aid materials. Within minutes of her arrival, she was using tweezers to pick bits of gray slacks out of Keri’s kneecaps as her friend caught her up.

  “His name is Herb Wasson,” Keri said. “He runs the Wasson Media Group.”

  “And what makes you so sure he’s connected to the whole Vista thing?”

  “It’s just a hunch,” Keri admitted, “but a really strong one. The first thing that made me suspicious was that I could sense Cave wasn’t pleased that I saw Wasson. I don’t think he wanted me to know he was there.”

  “That hardly seems like enough to go on, sweetie,” Mags said gently, trying to curb her investigative journalist instincts but failing.

  “On its own, that’s true. But the name sounded familiar to me, and not just because he’s some big mogul type. I let it go until Cave had his assassin try to
send me off a cliff. As Ray was pulling me up afterward, I got to thinking—up to this point, nothing made Jackson Cave go to such desperate measures to stop me until today. In the past, he’s tried to have me investigated by Internal Affairs and kicked off the force. Last night, he even tried to have me assaulted and, I assume, kidnapped. But it wasn’t until today that something happened that made him decide it wasn’t worth it to let me live. I think that ‘something’ was me seeing Wasson.”

  “What’s so significant about him?” Mags asked, dabbing some balm on a particularly torn up portion of skin on Keri’s left palm.

  “He’s a pedophile. Or at the very least, he travels in pedophile-friendly circles.”

  “What do you mean?” Mags asked.

  “Do you remember about six years ago, there was a sex-trafficking ring that got busted out of Croatia? They were trading in all kinds of stuff, including underage prostitution. Some of the girls were as young as seven. Interpol broke it up, arrested over thirty traffickers and about three hundred clients.”

  “I remember,” Mags said. “They believed the ring operated in something like eleven countries.”

  “Right,” Keri said. “There was also talk that a number of the clients were high-profile Americans who went to these countries to get their kicks because they were so lax in enforcing sex crimes. Wasson was rumored to be among them. It was never proven. One newspaper was going to run a story mentioning his name but it was quashed when his lawyer threatened a lawsuit.”

  “How many guesses do I get as to the lawyer’s name?” Mags asked bitterly.

  “I think you’ll only need one. There’s other stuff too. Things I’ve heard but never been able to confirm. You hear so much about so many people in this town that it all starts to turn into noise after a while. You can’t pursue everything, you know?”

  “I know, darling,” Mags soothed. “It’s hard enough for you to catch the people you know are kidnapping children. Going after the ones who are rumored to be abusing them would be a second job altogether. Hold still, this might hurt a bit.”

  Before Keri could react, Mags tugged hard with the tweezers, pulling out a chunk of asphalt that had embedded deep in her upper shin. Blood began seeping from the open hole and Mags quickly pressed a bandage against it.

  “Ouch,” Keri muttered, almost as an afterthought.

  “So,” Mags said, pretending not to hear her, “assuming your hunch is right and this Wasson guy is going to be at the Vista tonight, what’s your plan? I gather with your concerns about having a mole in your unit, you won’t be asking for a police surveillance team.”

  “That, my dear Margaret, is why I had you make that pickup on your way over.”

  “The pimply-faced boy from the mall sitting out there in Ray’s living room right now?”

  “That pimply-faced boy has a lot more going for him than meets the eye,” Keri said protectively. “Now, if you’ll help me get out of this tub, dry off, get bandaged up, get dressed, and hobble out there. I’ll make a proper introduction.”

  Twenty minutes later, Keri shuffled into the living room, clutching tightly to Mags’s forearm for support. The pimply-faced kid sitting on the couch stood up to greet her.

  He looked mostly as Keri remembered him, tall and skinny with a slightly hunched over back. But his skin, while still spotty, was less so than before. And both it and his hair had lost that greasy, shiny quality that came from total inactivity and being permanently indoors. She could tell he’d been at least trying to work out.

  He tried to hide his shock at her appearance but his bulging eyes and paler than usual skin suggested she had made the right choice by not looking in the mirror before coming out to see him.

  “How’s it going, Keith?” she said, trying to smile. “Long time, no see.”

  “Oh my god, Detective Locke, what happened to you?” the young man asked. “I saw on the news the other day that you were released and recovering at home. It looks like you should be in intensive care.”

  “Actually, I think I look pretty good, considering I’m supposed to be dead.”

  “What?” he asked, clearly confused.

  “Have a seat, Keith. I’ll explain what’s going on. And if you don’t mind, I’ll sit too because I don’t think I can stand much longer without collapsing.”

  He did as she suggested and Mags helped her to the hard-backed rocking chair beside the couch and she eased herself into it.

  “First things, first,” she said. “I’m sure you two spoke on the way over here but let me make some formal introductions. Keith Fogerty, this is Margaret Merrywether—Mags to her friends. She works over at Weekly L.A. and she’s one of my closest friends in the world.”

  Keri noticed Mags give her an almost imperceptible nod of thanks for not revealing what she did for the Weekly. She liked to keep her “Mary Brady” crusading columnist alter ego a secret and divulging it to random mall employees wouldn’t help with that.

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Keith said politely.

  “Such manners,” Mags replied, turning on the charm, Southern drawl in full effect. She didn’t yet know who this kid was but Keri knew that based on her say-so, her friend was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, despite her skepticism.

  “And Mags, this is Keith Fogerty. As you already know from where you picked him up, he works security over at Fox Hills Mall in Culver City. You may recall I mentioned a security guard who got me a good bug detector? Well, this was him. But Keith was also instrumental in helping us find Sarah Caldwell last fall. I’m sure you remember her, the girl who was kidnapped and taken to that brothel south of Tijuana.”

  “I remember her very well,” Mags said.

  “Well, if it hadn’t been for Keith’s assistance early in the case, we never would have gotten our first lead. He’s a real whiz with surveillance footage and technology in general and went above and beyond to help us out when we had hit a wall. I’m not sure we would gotten to Sarah in time if not for his help.”

  “That’s very nice of you to say, Detective,” Keith said, before turning his attention to Mags. “What Detective Locke isn’t mentioning is that I told her I wanted to apply to the police academy. She helped me out, put me in touch with a former instructor who tutored me. She also sent me an online physical training regimen and offered suggestions for how to approach some of the application questions. Because of what she did, I was accepted and start next month.”

  “Congratulations, Keith,” Mags said, properly impressed.

  “Thank you,” he said before turning back to Keri. “Now that we’ve met each other, can you please tell me what’s going on? Because I have a feeling it’s very bad.”

  Keri knew she couldn’t stall any longer. She’d been hesitant to bring a twenty-three-year-old kid with no experience into such a volatile situation but she had no choice. So she told him everything: about her search for Evie, which he was generally familiar with; about her ongoing conflict with Jackson Cave, who had tried to have her killed this morning; about the Vista tonight, where Evie was to be sacrificed; about how she suspected a mole in her unit, which meant she couldn’t go to them for help for fear of tipping off Cave; and finally about Herb Wasson, who she believed could lead her to her daughter.

  Keith sat quietly while she talked, not interrupting once, occasionally looking overwhelmed but mostly seeming to be taking it all in, trying to process the details. That gave her hope.

  When she finally finished, she looked at him and waited to hear what he thought. He was silent for a good ten seconds. When he did finally speak, his voice was quiet but firm.

  “What do you need me to do?” he asked.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Keri awoke with a start.

  It took a few seconds for her to get her bearings and remember where she was. Looking at the alarm clock beside Ray’s bed, she saw that it was 5:17 p.m. She’d been asleep for just over four hours.

  She lay there for a few minutes, allowing her body and
brain to recalibrate to consciousness. The pain was already starting to worm itself back into her bones and muscles, despite the warmth of the bed covers.

  Her head ached and her stomach felt raw and empty. She realized she hadn’t eaten since Mags and Keith had left. And even then, it had only been chicken broth. She’d sipped little portions of the soup as they went over the plan one final time before Mags drove Keith back to the mall. It seemed so long ago.

  Glancing at the mostly closed curtains, Keri saw that it was already dark out. Ray couldn’t safely communicate with her under the circumstances but she suspected he’d be back soon, even with all the paperwork associated with processing the “death” of his partner, not to mention navigating the endless stream of cops who probably swarmed him upon learning the news.

  The news. I should check out what the news is saying.

  With great effort, Keri pushed off the comforter and rolled herself out of her prone position. Sitting upright, she eased herself into one of Ray’s bathrobes and grabbed the headboard of his bed for support as she pulled herself upright and eased her way into the living room.

  She made sure not to turn on any overhead lights. After all, Ray lived alone and she was supposedly dead. Anyone watching his place might get suspicious if they saw lights going on and off inside.

  She turned the TV on low volume and sat down in the rocking chair, which she knew she could at least extricate herself from on her own. After she switched to a local station, it didn’t take long for her story to run. In fact, it dominated every channel.

  She watched for a few minutes, switching around to see if anyone had anything unexpected. But they all seemed to be sticking to the official story: Keri Locke, celebrated but controversial Missing Persons detective, who joined the force after tragically losing her own daughter to an abduction six years ago, was run off a Malibu mountain road by an unidentified assailant. She was believed to have died when her vehicle exploded after falling over a thousand feet to the canyon floor. Her partner, Raymond Sands, in another car further back, shot and killed the assailant but was unable to rescue Locke.