Gunning For Angels (Fallen Angels Book 1) (28 page)

But which is the stone that supports the bridge?

Why do you speak to me of the stones? It is only the arch that matters to me.

–
Kublai Khan

Bud watched as Jack walked from his parked car. His white shirt was blood-splattered and he was gripping Enid’s arm, and a boy was tailing them. Mrs. Lopez, who had given him Jack’s card and had been talking with a CPS official, began hissing, “That’s him. That’s him.”

At the first sight of Enid, the image of her in his dream punched through his consciousness. Bud glanced at her hands, half expecting to see the bloody bra dangling from her fingers.

“Detective Orlean,” Jack said. “Is there someplace we can talk?”

Several hours later, at the station, Bud stared at Enid, who looked pathetically young as she rubbed her hands, which seemed to be bothering her. They’d been in the interrogation room for two hours hashing out her timeline since she’d arrived in Phoenix, especially once she’d gotten to Jeni’s apartment that afternoon. He’d had a short talk with Jack, who was lodged in another interrogation room.

“You believe me, don’t you?” Enid said. 

Bud nodded, knowing that he wasn’t supposed to nod but not able to help himself. “Is there anything else you can remember?”

Enid shook her head.

Bud stood. “Give me a few minutes.” 

“Don’t I get one phone call?” Enid said.

“You’re not under arrest.”

“Oh.” She exhaled a sigh of relief.

Once in the hallway, Bud nodded at Jenson, who had watched the interchange behind a two-way mirror. They walked down the hall and stood outside Jack’s interrogation room. Through another two-way mirror, they watched as Jack drained the last of the coffee and tossed the styrofoam cup into a trash can like he was playing basketball. 

Jenson said, “Outlandish story.”

Bud said, “That’s the trouble. Makes me think it might be true. I sent the key to the lab – try to lift some fingerprints.”

“What about the girl?”

Bud sighed. “Let’s start at the girls’ home. Talk to the psychiatrist, the owner – ”

“Vivian Hargrove owns the place,” Jenson said.

“I don’t like coincidences,” Bud said. “They have a funny way of not being coincidences. Any theories on how this pile of bricks fit together? Or is any of it even related?”

Jenson shrugged, “Not yet.”

“Daniel Hargrove – a cold case we’ve been working for years. Now this guy,” Bud nodded toward Jack, “is dating our prime suspect – Eve Hargrove.”

“I certainly hope Chip’s not batting sloppy seconds with a sociopathic killer.”

Bud shot him a look.

Jenson smiled pleasantly, “You can pick the tile in your out-house but you can’t pick your relatives. And you definitely can’t pick who they decide to sleep with.”

“Chip’s fine. He’ll be – fine,” Bud said, his voice sounding anything but sure. 

Jenson said, “Then,
Jack Fox, the guy who is dating the prime suspect of our favorite cold case – his daughter – who he didn’t even know existed until earlier this week – ”

Bud said, “Comes to town with a gun that ends up in the murder victim’s sink – and the kid is on the premises when Jeni Hargrove is murdered but supposedly hears nothing and sees even less.”

“And this occurs two days after her father
gets the bright idea of sending Enid undercover at Vivian Hargrove’s home for wayward girls, which is Hargrove family member number-four. Then Enid claims she gets drugged and abducted, and only manages to escape by strangling a man to death with her bra – ”

Bud said, “Dennie Dutter shows up duct-taped and delivered to us care of the Arizona Canal.”

“Not to mention the whole story Fox fed us about his high-speed chase with Laura Hargrove – number-five on the Hargrove clan and counting.”

Bud said, “Fox says he was on a date with Eve but ended up in jail the next morning with his house torched and Laura Hargrove in the hospital under suspicion of arson. Fox claims he had no clue where Enid was – why wasn’t he out looking for her? In fact, do we have a Hargrove family member that isn’t tangled up in this mess?”

“
Voilá!
” Jenson said with a flourish. “What could be more straightforward?”

“I’ve seen hair in public shower drains less tangled.” 

Jenson smiled, tapping his lips with his fingers.

Bud gazed through the mirror at Jack. “We have four – no, five – separate – or not-so-separate incidents
, and the person who shows up the most is Vivian Hargrove.”

Jenson said, “Daniel’s widow, mother to Jeni, Laura and Eve – and she owns the wayward girl place.”

“See if you can get a search warrant for the home. In the meantime, I’ll do Q&A.”

“Fun, fun.” Jenson gave a jaunty nod and headed down the hall. “Let me know if anything emerges.”

“Hopefully not another corpse,” Bud said before he went into the interrogation room.

Jack looked up. “How’s Enid?” 

Bud sat down. “Scared but she’ll be okay. How are you doing? Would you like some more coffee?”

“Cut the crap with the good cop bonding shit. I’m too tired.”

Bud said, “Why didn’t you go looking for Enid yesterday – when you knew she was gone?”

“I’m a bad father.”

Bud stared at him. Jack’s face was impassive and Bud wondered if he was thinking about his own father. “Jeni told me that she hired you to find her biological mother?”

Jack looked at him in surprise. “Her grandmother is alive and kickin’ and as mean as medieval rat’s piss.”

“Then Eve Hargrove tried to hire you to drop the case Jeni hired you to do?”

“She asked politely. I declined politely.”

“Did you sign a contract with either one of them? Did they pay you any money?”

“Jeni signed a contract but didn’t pay me. Eve didn’t sign a contract.”

“But she paid you?”

“Not relevant.”

“Humor me.”

“She and I are seeing each other. I talk to her before I answer any questions regarding her.”

“That’s an unusual request,” Bud said. “Like you’re covering for her.”

“Humor
me.”

Bud was about to speak when he was hit with a bolt of chest pain that made him cry out. He gripped his chest and doubled over, struggling to breathe.

“Jesus,” Jack said, coming around the table to Bud’s side.  

Bud tried to stand, but his legs gave out and he fell back into the chair.

Jack headed for the door but Bud grabbed him, stopping him. Bud reached for the fanny pack, his hand falling from the zipper as he saw fuzzy dots in front of his eyes.

Jack grabbed the contents of the pack and dumped the pill bottles onto the table. “What? Which one?”

Bud pointed weakly to the lightning-bolt bottle. In a flash, Jack had taken out the nitroglycerin.

“Open,” Jack said. 

Feeling like a child, Bud opened his mouth and Jack stuck the pill under his tongue. Jack watched him anxiously as the medication took effect. Bud’s breathing returned to normal and his color improved. He scraped the bottles off the table and jammed them into the fanny pack. He felt self-loathing that he had allowed Jack Fox to see him at his weakest.

Jack sat down, tapping his fingers on the table as he stared intently at Bud.

“Thanks,” Bud managed to mutter without looking at Jack. The word tasted like sawdust.

“You want water?”

Bud shook his head. He didn’t want to get up yet. He wanted to sit in the tiny grey room and feel the air conditioning blowing down on his sweaty neck.

Jack said, “My dad had heart problems.”

Bud looked at Jack
in surprise. He’d never expected to hear Jack talk about his dad, considering all the infamous scandals that still stunk after all these years.

“I knew him,” Bud said.

“He was an asshole,” Jack said with a wry smile.

Bud’s lip twitched, the closest he was going to get to a smile.

Jack said, “Were you at the funeral?”

Bud shook his head, remembering the stories that he’d heard over the years – of how Jack had overturned the casket and kicked the dead body, cursing him for killing his mother. From what he’d heard, it had t
aken three grown men to pull a teenage Jack away from his father’s dead body and get him out of the church. The widow, a cold blue-eyed little thing, had practically had a nervous breakdown and Bud always wondered at how Jack and his half-brother, Sam, had remained close. The last he heard, the widow cashed in the insurance policy for a good chunk of change and married a pseudo-cowboy from New York.

Jack said, “I want to help you find Jeni’s killer.”

Bud opened his mouth to say “no” but Jack leaned forward, eyes burning.

“I can help you. I liked Jeni. She was – ” Jack’s voice faltered.

Bud said, “She was a good kid. She might have gotten out but she always ended up falling for the wrong guy.”

Jack looked away.

Bud remained silent, hoping to get Jack talking.

“And – he’s back,
” Jack said with a smile.

Bud smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. His detective instincts had kicked in – he’d recovered.

“Let me help you,” Jack said.

“I already have someone – ”

“Your son?”

“You
and Chip – ” Bud shook his head in a “no.”

“I’m a friendly guy,
” Jack said.

Bud paused, wondering if he should tell Jack that he and Chip were dating the same woman.

Jack sniffed his armpit. “What? Do I offend?”

Bud said, “Conflict of interest.”

“Enlighten me.”

Bud paused, afraid he would regret his words.

Jack said, “Is it Enid?”

Bud shook his head, knowing that Jack would find out the truth eventually, but it wasn’t going to be from him.
Bud said, “I’d like to take Enid out to the girls’ home.”

Jack frowned.

Bud said, “We’re in the process of getting a search warrant. We won’t have Enid come in unless there’s a need. She can wait in the car with Chip. She’ll be safe.”

“I need to be there.”

Bud shook his head.

Jack said, “I’m not leaving her – every time I blink, she disappears.”

“I’ll personally deliver her back to you when we’re done.”

“What if she doesn’t want to go?”

Bud said, “Are you her legal guardian?” 

“No.”

“We’ll need her guardian’s permission.”

“Let me talk to her mother. And Enid.”

“I’ll take care of her like she’s my own daughter,” Bud said, recalling his dream of Enid in the red dress, saving him from the end of the world. 

Jack remained silent for several moments. “Was it easy…?”

“What?”

“When you became a dad?”

“When I became a father – Chip was a baby and didn’t know my mistakes from a hole in the wall. You do the best you can.”

“What if your best – sucks?”

“It can’t be that bad.”

Jack said, “I sent her undercover, she got drugged, kidnapped and may have killed someone – because of me.”

Bud made a face. “Point taken. Every day is a new starting line.”

“I’m seeing my own dad in a new light.”

“How so?”

“He was an asshole. He was never there – but – ”

Bud waited.

Jack laughed. “Shit. I’m getting soft in my old age.”

Bud snorted, thinking of his own age. He stood up but caught the back of the chair, unsteady.

Jack grabbed his arm, stabilized him. “Whoa, there.”

Bud pushed him away. “Don’t talk to me about getting old.”

“Point taken,” Jack said.

Bud turning his back on Jack and left him standing alone in the grey room.

If you don’t love me, it does not matter, anyway I can love for both of us.

–Stendhal

Enid sat in the backseat of Detective Orlean’s car, staring at the back of Chip’s right ear. He had a mole that was in the shape of a tiny pumpkin and she weighing the consequences of leaning up and kissing it.

Detective Orlean and Detective Jenson had gone into the girls’ home with a warrant, and Enid was under strict orders to stay in the car with Chip, which was a fantasy come true. She kept trying to think of something cool to say but, instead, sat i
n dazed silence – staring at his delicious pumpkin mole, terrified of saying something stupid.

I wonder if our kids will have pumpkin moles?

Chip said, “Where’d your dad go?”

“Oh, uh…” Enid made a show of looking around like she cared. “Dunno.”

Chip returned to staring out the window with a dreamy look that she could see in the partial reflection of his face in the rearview mirror. Periodically, he would scribble notes in a notebook as Enid tried to figure out a way to start a conversation that would somehow make him fall in love with her.

After much thought, Enid said, “What are you writing?”

“A book.”

“What kind of book?”

“Not sure yet.”

“A love story?”

“Not really – but yeah.”

Enid leaned forward. “Tell me about it.”

“I don’t have it all fleshed out yet.”

“Are you the main character?”

“I guess you could say – I’m all the characters.”

“What’s she like?”

“Who?”

“The girl you – your character – falls in love with?”

Chip gave her a quizzical look. “How old are you?”

“Why does everybody keep asking me that?”

“Are you a writer?” Chip said.

“Me?” Enid said, “No way! I mean – I wish.”

“What do you want to do?” Chip said.

“Now?” Enid said, imagining them kissing.

“For a career, I mean.”

“Oh,” Enid said, disappointed. “I’m not sure. Something exciting – that will make me rich.”

Chip laughed.

“What?” Enid said.

“Nothing. I mean, well, I quit med school, which probably would have been a more stable career choice and now – ”

“Could you write me into your book?”

“It’s the unexpected that makes characters more interesting – tell me something about yourself – unexpected – and I might.”

“Can my name be Veronica?”

Chip wrote the name. “Isn’t that what you said your name was the first time we met?”

Enid said, “What if I told you I was a time traveler?”

“Weird. Not super original. What else?”

“What if I told you I’ve traveled back in time and – ten years from now – you and I…”

Chip looked at her expectantly. “What?”

“You’re hopelessly in love – with me.”

Chip raised his eyebrows, writing. “That’s interesting. Why am I in love with you? Why is it hopeless?”

“Why not?”

“The devil is in the details – tell me more.”

Tweaker stuck her head in the window. “Is this your boyfriend?”

Enid and Chip jumped.

Enid said, “Jeez, Tweaker! What the heck? You tryin’ to scare us to death?”

Tweaker got in the backseat, shoving Enid over. “Doctor Buttwipe disappeared and the word on the block is you sliced off his
thing
and put it in a blender and made him eat it. Is it true?”

“Gross,” Enid said.

Tweaker eyed Chip, “You’re even hotter than E –”

Enid elbowed Tweaker. “This is my
friend
, Chip.”

Tweaker said, “You’re not…?”

“Shut up!” Enid said.

“Sheesh, just askin’,
” Tweaker said.

Chip stuck out his hand, “Chip. And you’re – Tweaker?”

Tweaker shot Enid a “you lying dog” look and shook Chip’s hand. “Are you guys casing the joint? ‘Cause it’s bad timing – there’s a diaper-load of cops in there tearing the place apart.”

Enid said, “Did they find anything?”

Tweaker said, “Say, where’d you go that day? You took off – ”

Angry, Enid said, “I didn’t take off! You left me there with that doctor – who freakin’ drugged me.”

Tweaker said, “What are you talking about?”

“Can you excuse us a few moments, Chip?” Enid said in her most regal tone.

Chip got out of the car and walked away.

Tweaker said, “Is that the guy you were talking about? Gawd, I could fry eggs on his – ”

“Remember the party – when we first met?” Enid said.

Tweaker’s eyes stayed glued to Chip. “Me wanna take a bubble bath in the deep blue of his eyes. Hey, if he’s not your boyfriend – ”

“Tweak!”

“What?”

“The party – you remember?”

“Whaddya think – I ride the short bus?”

Enid said, “Bones told me to run. Why’d she say that?”

“How should I know?” Tweaker pushed Enid to the side, her eyes following Chip. “Pardon you, you’re blocking the view.”

“That doctor drugged me and I woke up in a room where some creep tried to kill me.”

“Yeah, right,” Tweaker grinned.

“The only way I got out was – ” Enid’s voice trailed off. She didn’t like to think about it – much less say it aloud.

“You serious?” Tweaker examined her face, unsure.

“That doctor drugged me.”

“I had a session with that creep plenty of times. Why would he drug you and not me?”

Enid said, “Do girls disappear from here a lot?”

“Girls are always coming and going – there’s nothing weird about that.”

“You ever stay in touch with the ones that leave? Do they ever come back?”

“No. I guess not.” Tweaker reached for the door. “I gotta go.”

Enid grabbed her arm, “What are you hiding?”

“Get off! You lied about Chip – you’re probably lying about getting dr
ugged.” Tweaker jumped out of the car and headed to the school.

Chip got in the car. “What was that about?”

“She thought you were my boyfriend. Says we have chemistry.”

Chip laughed.

Enid gazed at him, perfectly serious.

Chip’s laughter died and, with a nervous twitch of his cheek, he turned back to scribbling notes.