“Sounds like you’ve done your own surveillance to figure all that out.”

  He shrugged. “I know stuff.”

  “I bet you do,” I said and smiled. For a brief second I wondered what he’d be like in bed, but then scolded myself. I was into fidelity now. I’d turned over a new leaf. I was in a monogamous relationship.

  He moved over, standing in front of me. I pushed my phone onto the bar with the picture of the dead guy on it. He glanced down without bending his head.

  “Okay. Pick up your phone.”

  I did. “So, you know him?”

  “He comes here. He knows Lila.”

  “Which one is she? The star?”

  “Nope. She’s the strawberry blonde to the left of the stage. She just got off work. Do me a favor. Don’t walk over there right away.”

  “I’m not stupid,” I said.

  “And pick up your change, otherwise it looks like you paid me off for information,” he said and smiled. “By the way, guy’s name is Walter.”

  “Does he have a last name?”

  “Don’t ask me.” He moved away dunking a few glasses in a soapy basin.

  “Okay,” I said, “But can you come back here for a minute?”

  He came and stood before me, between me and the red flashing light, just as the blonde on stage ended her act and the crowd erupted in hoots and whistles.

  I made sure all eyes were on the stage and very quickly reached over and stuck a few bills down the front of his pants—probably pushing them a little further down than I needed to. He gave a slight groan.

  “Bet nobody’s ever done that before,” I said. I turned and walked off before he could answer.

  Lila was busy when I walked over. Some guy had his hand up her skirt.

  I figured it wasn’t a good time to ask her about Walter.

  Instead I pretended like I was going to a chair just past her and sat down, taking in the scene. The woman who had just taken over the stage winked and made her way over to me.

  I couldn’t blame her. If I were half-naked up there, I’d get away from the serial-killer-looking dude leering at her on the other side of the stage too. He probably owned the semi out front. I’m sure most truckers were decent, stand-up guys, but there was also a fucked-up theory about long-haul trucker serial killers. I could name five off the top of my head. I’d read once that the FBI claimed that truck driving was the perfect job for serial killers and that there were at least ten serial killer truckers out there. And sadly, prostitutes and strippers are easy prey.

  Something about the guy sent an icy chill down my spine. Just to look at him, you wouldn’t think he was anything particularly evil. He had seventies-style eyeglasses, a flannel shirt, a receding hair line. Nothing remarkable. He could have been any average middle-aged guy. But there was something about him that made my mouth dry. It wasn’t the first time I’d had some type of a shining, some kind of sixth-sense about evil. It didn’t happen very often, but when it did, there was no denying it. He never took his eyes off the girl on stage.

  His was unmistakably the look of a predator eyeing its prey. A shot of fear ran through me. I was worried about the girl. She looked young, probably not even old enough to drink. And like someone needed to feed her a cookie or two. Or maybe a few pies. Her ribs stuck out nearly as far as her breasts. I crooked a finger at her. She leaned down toward me. As I stuck a twenty into her top I whispered into her hair, “Be careful of that guy across the way. He’s bad news. Make sure someone walks you to your car tonight.”

  She pulled back, her eyes widening. But she played it cool and smiled at me and tossed her hair, but I saw her glance out of the corner of her eye at the guy. As she continued to dance, she met my eyes and very slowly nodded.

  Good. If I had more time I’d stick around until she got off her shift and make sure Ted Bundy didn’t follow her, but right then Lila and her date were shrugging on their coats.

  Trying not to look like I was in a hurry, I headed toward the door but not before stopping and leaning down toward the trucker. There was a smell about him that made my skin crawl. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I couldn’t help but think he smelled like death. I got near his ear and said, “You touch her and I promise you I’ll hunt you down, cut off your balls, and shove them through your eye sockets.”

  I headed toward the bar and slammed my glass down on the surface. The sexy bartender gave me a look. “Do me a favor?” I said. “Make sure that guy at ten o’clock doesn’t follow any of these girls out tonight. He’s a predator.”

  “I’ll take care of him.”

  I started to walk away, but the bartender grabbed my wrist.

  “What’s your name?”

  He ran his finger suggestively up my forearm. I watched his finger for a second. His nail was manicured and clean. I liked that in a guy. I gently pulled away. Lila and her date were heading out the door.

  Out in the parking lot, Lila and her date were taking their sweet time getting into a car. He had her up against the wall of the building and was kissing her. It gave me time to walk over and try the door handle of the semi, but it was locked. I took the butt of my dagger and smashed out the tail lights on the back side of the semi. Anything to get this guy pulled over and searched by cops. I knew deep in my gut he was bad news of the worst sort.

  Lila got into the passenger seat of a small red car. I tailed them until they parked and went inside an apartment near the beach. I sat outside in my car waiting for the man to leave. And then waited some more. Finally, I got tired of waiting. I’d have to confront Lila with him still there. I grabbed my dagger and headed toward the door.

  I was nearly to the apartment when I heard screaming.

  As I ran toward the door, I was frantically trying to think of a way to bust it open, but when I reached it, the knob turned easily under my fingers.

  Inside, I ran toward the sound of screaming. But just as suddenly it stopped, and I heard swearing. The man emerged from a room down the hall. I pressed myself up against the wall, but he didn’t look my way as he turned and entered another door. I heard running water.

  “Crazy bitch.” He was muttering in the bathroom. I stared at the wall across from me, listening. There was an enormous black-and-white photograph of the Eiffel Tower that took up most of it. Above the couch was a street scene in Paris, a woman sitting at a café table smoking a cigarette.

  “Get the fuck out!” Lila screamed from inside the bedroom.

  The man, naked, was suddenly standing back in the bedroom doorway, just in time to get hit in the face with a piece of fabric that looked like underwear. It was followed by a shirt and jeans.

  The man roared and lunged into the room.

  I sprinted, but it was too late. I got to the doorway in time to see the flat of the man’s foot connect right in the center of Lila’s bare back.

  It sent her flying toward the dresser. She stumbled and fell, narrowly missing cracking her head on the corner of the dresser.

  I was on him in two seconds. Before he could react, I’d backed him up onto the bed and had my dagger pressing against his soft penis. “Don’t you ever lay another hand on a woman again in your life.”

  “What? Who? I—” The words died in his mouth as I drew the blade down the side of one of his testicles. Blood began to flow, and he screamed bloody murder.

  I yanked Lila up by her arm and dragged her with me, grabbing her robe as I walked by. The man was on the bed cupping his genitals, trying to stem the flow of blood. He was screaming. “Help. Help.”

  I scooped up a cell phone from the nightstand, dialed 911, and tossed it at him. He looked frantically at where it landed on the bed nearby.

  “I can’t pick it up. I’ll bleed to death.”

  “Give them your address,” I said. “And if you ever hurt a woman again, I’ll come back and make you a eunuch.”

  Once I had Lila in my car and we were safely three blocks away, I looked over.

  “You okay?”

  “I think so.” She still had the robe on.

  “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  She shook her head.

  We sat in silence for a few minutes. I could feel her eyes on me, but I was too busy looking in my rearview mirror, making sure the police or someone worse wasn’t following us.

  When we were across town, I pulled over. I rummaged in my bag for a pair of cargo pants and a top. “Here get dressed.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m here about Walter.”

  “Walter?”

  “Tell me everything you know about him.”

  “Walter? He’s just a lackey, a messenger.” She sounded genuinely confused. That made me pause. Jackfuckingpot. But I tried not to act too excited. Time to drop a bomb.

  “Carnegie says he’s missing.”

  She froze. Her eyes grew wide and she looked around, her head whipping to each side. “Don’t say his name.”

  “I’m not afraid of him.”

  “You’re stupid then,” she said.

  My hand went for the gun in my back waistband. I wanted to stick it up her nose, but instead I took a deep breath.

  “I need you to take me to Carnegie. I have a message for him.”

  “I thought you just said Carnegie is looking for Walter?” She blinked and tugged on the cargo pants, stretching her legs out in the front passenger wheel well to do so.

  “He is. But he hung up before I could tell him.”

  “Tell him what?” Now her eyes narrowed.

  “Walter’s dead.”

  “Oh my God.” She seemed genuinely dismayed.

  “I know who killed him. I need to tell Carnegie directly. In person.”

  “I need to leave. I need to go back home.”

  “To your apartment where a guy who likes to abuse women might be bleeding out?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.” She sounded distraught.

  “First tell me where I can find Carnegie.”

  She closed her eyes and exhaled.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “You’re going to have to.”

  “He’ll kill me.”

  “I won’t let him.”

  Her laughter came out like a cackle. “Whose side are you on anyway?”

  “Not his.”

  She gave me an appraising look.

  “I’m not on anyone’s side. I’ve got information for him. He’s going to pay me for it.”

  It sounded good. And it seemed like she bought it.

  “So how you gonna keep him from killing me? You gonna be my bodyguard for the rest of my life? Or you gonna swoop in tonight like you did, like Superman or some fucking avenging angel? Or no, I bet, you are going to follow me around and then if I’m in trouble, you can go after the bad guys? Give me a fucking break.”

  She reached for the door handle.

  I jammed the lock down. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Oh, now I’m your captive?” She was bordering on hysterics.

  I shrugged. Maybe.

  “So, what I am dying to know,” she said. “Is how you are going to protect me from Carnegie and the cartel.”

  For a second I couldn’t breathe. I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible. The cartel.

  “I was planning on killing him.”

  She scoffed. “That won’t stop them. They’ll just replace him with someone else.”

  “Okay,” I said. “What do you think would keep you safe? What could I do to keep you safe if you told me where he was?”

  “The only thing that would keep me safe is if I got the fuck out of San Diego. Nah. Even that won’t work.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “Okay, maybe if I got the fuck out of California. Hell, if I got the fuck out of the United States.”

  “You have a passport?”

  “What?” She looked over at me and blinked.

  “Do. You. Have. A. Passport?”

  “Yeah. From when Walter took me to Mexico City one time.”

  “Do you have it with you?”

  “It’s at my place.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  She shook her head.

  I started the car and spun a U-turn. She clutched the dashboard and screamed. “We’re not going back there! The cops will be there. That guy is there. You even said so.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll handle it.”

  From down the street I could see the block lit up with blue-and-red flashing lights. Another delay. Another few minutes or hours that Rosalie was being held somewhere. I parked and struck the steering wheel with my palm. A few seconds later the ambulance went roaring by with lights and sirens. After that Lila put her head back and seemed to sleep. I waited, watching. After about thirty minutes the squad cars left. But I still waited an extra ten minutes before I moved, parking in front of her place. While Lila was still dozing, I reached into a duffel bag in the back seat and retrieved an old pair of handcuffs that had belonged to James. While she was still waking up, I clicked one side onto her wrist and the other to the steering wheel.

  “What the fuck?” she said. “You don’t trust me?”

  “Not particularly.” I broke a window in the front door with a rock, popped the lock, and crept inside. I found the passport right where she’d said it be. Top dresser drawer under some lingerie. How come everybody thought that hiding important shit in the top dresser drawer was a good spot? First place I’d look every time. I scooped up some prescription bottles in there and then grabbed a pillowcase filling it with some underwear, bras, and clothes I found in the armoire. In the bathroom, I grabbed a bar of soap, her toothbrush, and toothpaste. She could buy everything else once she was through security, including a suitcase and more clothes. But this would get her started.

  Back in the Jeep, I threw the bag in her lap and then took off her handcuffs.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s some of your stuff.”

  “Where we going?”

  “What’s your favorite city? Or country? Could be country.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Paris. But I’ve never been there.”

  After seeing the art in her apartment, I knew that’s what she was going to say. Perfect.

  I grabbed my phone and dialed with her passport propped up in front of me. When I finished buying her a ticket to London, I made another call. To Tony.

  She’d be picked up by a livery car in London and driven into France where she could start her new life in Paris. I leaned over to reach into the glove box, and she flinched as my bare arm brushed her bare leg.

  I suddenly felt bad for her. I took an envelope out of the glove box and handed it to her.

  “Here’s the deal. You are not my prisoner. You are free to go.” I handed her the passport. “However, I have a deal to offer you. If you tell me where I can find Carnegie, I will drive you to the airport. There is a ticket to London in your name. I promise you that I will not go find him until your plane has landed in London, and you are already on your way to Paris. Once you are in that livery car nobody will be able to follow you or trace your whereabouts. Got it? Oh,” I added. “And this should help you start your new life.”

  I flipped on the vehicle’s interior light. That’s when I noticed she had faded bruises on her arms, legs, and cheek.

  “That guy did this? A different time? And you let him back in tonight?”

  “He pays the rent.” Her lips pressed together tightly. I handed her the envelope.

  She opened it and gasped. She looked over at me with her mouth still open wide. “There’s .. it’s …”

  “Yeah. It’s a lot. But it won’t last forever. Do you have a plan to keep yourself afloat over there? Besides hooking?”

  She nodded. “I’ve got some savings.”

  “You can’t touch that,” I said. “Once you leave here, you can’t access any of your old bank accounts. You can’t be in touch with any of your old friends. Or family. You got family?”

  She shook her head sadly.

  “So, you have to start fresh, got it?”

  She nodded. “I can do that.”

  “What about finding a job? That money should last about a year. Then what?”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  “You can’t come back here.”

  “I know.”

  “So? What did you decide?” I asked.

  “Looks like I’ve got a plane to catch.”

  26

  “The girl gets her own room.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The maid had just finished giving the girl a bath upstairs. He’d ordered her dressed in the clothes he’d bought a few weeks ago, anticipating her arrival. It was the most expensive silk nightgown you could buy for a child.

  He waited in the big armchair in the living room. The fire was going. Even in the perfect climate of San Diego it sometimes got slightly chilly at night. He held the cut crystal glass with the double shot of bourbon he’d been saving for a special occasion. As soon as the girl was in her room, he would celebrate with the whiskey and a $500 cigar. All’s well that ends well, he thought.

  His wife was passed out upstairs. He’d had the cook slip sleeping pills into her nightly wine. And even though he felt a little guilty, he’d asked the cook to put some liquid Benadryl in his daughter’s milk.

  He needed them both out cold when the girl arrived.

  She’d been crying and scared but not loud about it, which pleased him.

  When she saw him walk in, the girl hastily wiped her tears away. He liked that. He smiled at her and kneeled down in front of her so they were eye level.

  “I want to go home,” she said.

  “You will,” he said in a gentle voice he hoped was soothing. “Your new family is very excited to meet you.”

  “I don’t want them,” she said. Her tiny pink lips formed a pout.

  “But they want you. They are very, very rich,” he said. “They will buy you anything your heart desires.” He gave another smile.

  “They can’t buy what I want.” She folded her arms across her chest.

  He admired her spunk. And her beauty. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen such a beautiful child. Well, other than his own Adele, that was. But this girl was the mirror opposite of Adele. This girl had silky black hair, huge black eyes, and flawless skin. But there was something else about her too. A spirited girl for sure.