Hollywood Kids (62 page)

'You had your chance, Rosa.'

'Not really,' she said truthfully. 'He was never into me, I can always tell.'

Kennedy sighed happily. 'Isn't he great?'

'Listen to her! You sound like a lovestruck adolescent!'

'I think I am.'

'Fools rush in...'

'I'm not a fool. Michael's different.'

Rosa beamed, happy for her friend. 'Do I get a finder's fee?'

'You get to be a flower girl at our wedding.'

Rosa's eyebrows shot up. 'Wedding! Has he asked you to marry him?'

'I was joking,' Kennedy said, shaking her head and smiling.

'You've turned to mush!' Rosa yelled. 'I don't like it.'

'Not quite,' Kennedy said. 'Let me get dressed and we'll go over to task force headquarters. I want to be in on this one.'

'Where in hell you been?' Quincy demanded angrily.

'Somewhere very special,' Michael replied, unable to remove the smile from his face.

Quincy was perplexed. 'What is this somewhere special shit?' he asked, scratching his head.

'You'll meet her.'

'I'll meet her, huh?' Quincy said, glaring at him. 'Are you telling me that while I've been carrying the load on my own, you've been out getting laid?'

'Nope,' Michael said. 'This isn't about getting laid.'

'Well, what the fuck is it?'

'Can we talk about it later? There's something Mac Brooks forgot to tell us, and it's important we pay him a visit. Zane Ricca has an uncle. His name is Luca Carlotti.'

'Let's go,' Quincy said.

'I'm behind you, bro!'

Reno had friends in LA. He put out a search-and-find order on Zane's car, and settled himself on the patio by the pool at the St James's.

'We'll have him before nightfall,' he promised Luca. 'It's a done deal.'

'Howdja know that?' Luca growled, joining him in Versace shorts and matching shirt, with Gucci gold-trimmed slippers on his feet and slicked-back hair.

'Care to take a bet?' Reno said confidently, fiddling with his sunglasses.

Luca trusted Reno. If he said it would be done, he knew that it would.

Bosco lumbered outside, sweating more as the day progressed.

'There you are,' Luca said.

'Yeah, here I am,' Bosco replied.

This is what I want you t'do now,' Luca said, issuing instructions. Take the limo, stop by Carrier in Beverly Hills and pick up a diamond bracelet. Have them gift-wrap it, then write a card with my name on it - my first name only - don't wanna scare her off. Deliver it to Bambi personally at that house you followed her to last night, an' tell her I'm expectin' her at eight.' He shoved an envelope at him. 'Pay cash.'

Bosco pocketed the envelope. 'Ain't Reno comin' with?'

'Not necessary. He stays here by the phone.'

'Should I have lunch first?' Bosco asked, his stomach rumbling at the very thought of food.

'No fuckin' way. You're gettin' soft in your old age, Bosco.'

'Who
you
callin' old?'

They might joke together, but everyone knew who the boss was.

Grant felt he had no choice but to go to Detective Carlyle and inform him that Cheryl appeared to be missing.

He hung around the precinct waiting, until the detective walked in, then he approached him, keeping it loose. He told him Cheryl had visited a friend at the St James's, and from the information he'd received she'd left there around ten last night and nobody had seen her since.

'Why didn't you tell me this earlier?' Detective Carlyle asked.

'I thought she'd stayed the night at the hotel with her... uh... friend.'

Detective Carlyle peered at him suspiciously. 'Didn't you say you were her brother?'

'That's right.'

'I understand Cheryl Landers don't have a brother.'

Grant didn't hesitate. 'Technically, no,' he said smoothly. 'What I meant was we're like brother and sister. We grew up together.'

Detective Carlyle continued to regard him suspiciously. 'Who are you?'

Sometimes it was useful having the name. 'Grant Lennon, Junior,' he said smoothly.

The detective snapped to attention. 'You mean Grant Lennon's your father?'

No. Robert Redford, you idiot.

That's right.'

Trying not to look too impressed, Detective Carlyle said, 'Give me the make and licence of her car, I'll run a check. And I'll need the name of the friend she was visiting.'

Grant gave him the information, asked the detective to keep in touch, left his number and returned to Cheryl's house.

Jordanna was running out of things to say, but at least she had his full attention. Zane was fascinated, absorbing every little detail about Ingrid and what she'd supposedly said about him.

Jordanna embellished, making up a life for Ingrid Floris, a young actress whom she'd hardly known. She weaved a good story, every so often throwing in more information about Ingrid's feelings for him.

In her story Mac was the villain; Ingrid the princess; and Zane the unfortunate suitor who was never allowed to show his true love how much she meant to him.

'I did love her,' he said earnestly, completely drawn into the fairy-tale.

'I know,' Jordanna replied sympathetically. 'And there's more.'

'I have to know everything,' he said, his dead eyes coming alive for a moment.

'You deserve to,' she said soothingly. 'But first take me upstairs. It's my turn to go to the bathroom and get a drink.'

She could sense his hesitation. 'Please,' she said calmly, fixing him with an unwavering gaze. 'I won't try to escape. I'm enjoying our talk.'

The Levitt bitch wasn't such a bitch after all. In fact, she was the first woman who'd been truthful with him.

Everything she said made perfect sense. Ingrid had loved him all along. She hadn't been pretending. She'd genuinely loved him.

So many women over the years had lied to him. They'd broken his heart until he'd learned that to get over the hurt he had to punish them.

Before Ingrid there'd been others - the first one when he was seventeen. A pretty girl called Sally, who'd made him promises she'd never kept.

Nobody ever found out it was him who'd fixed her car so that the brakes failed.

After Sally there was a young Danish girl who'd unfortunately drowned on a summer picnic. This young lady had severely disappointed him. It was her fault she'd been punished.

He'd never regretted their deaths because they'd deserved to die.

It had been so easy taking revenge and never getting caught, not until Ingrid.

All those years in jail he'd itched to get his hands on the six women who'd put him there. The satisfaction of finally doing it was orgasmic.

He thought about Ingrid, and the fact that Mac Brooks had kept them apart.

AND MAC BROOKS SHALL DIE.

Zane untied Jordanna's ankles and pulled her roughly to her feet. Her legs were numb, and for a moment she could barely stand. She fell against him, straightening up immediately.

A quick glance at Cheryl revealed her to be in bad shape, huddled in the corner.

Zane unlocked the handcuffs attached to the pipe, slipped one half around his own wrist and clicked it shut. Now they were shackled together. No chance of escape. At least she was getting out of the cellar. Upstairs there might be something she could do, maybe scream, attract a neighbour's attention. Anything was better than being trapped in the black hole.

He climbed the stairs, dragging her behind him. She hadn't realized how hungry she was - and thirsty. Licking her dry lips she tried to concentrate on winning him over. Yes. That's what she had to do - continue to gain his trust. It was probably their only shot at survival.

Once upstairs he slammed the cellar door shut behind them, leading her down a narrow corridor into a small bathroom.

'Go,' he said, indicating the toilet.

'Not with you here,' she said, appalled. 'Take off the handcuffs and wait outside.'

The Man had no intention of letting her get away with anything. He had her under his control and that's where he'd keep her. Under control, like a dog.

Yes, she was being truthful with him - for now - but women couldn't be trusted, any fool knew that.

She glared at him before unzipping her jeans with one hand, pulling down her underwear and squatting on the toilet.

He knew he was humiliating her. It gave him great satisfaction.

The end would not be quick for this one. He liked having her around, especially when she told him tales of Ingrid and her love for him.

Yes, Jordanna Levitt would die slowly.

If she'd had a gun she would have blown him away. Shot him right between his already dead eyes.

Screw you! she wanted to scream. You sick perverted murdering bastard.

He'd taken away her freedom, and he had no right to do that. He was a killer - he deserved no chance.

She finished peeing and pulled up her jeans as quickly as possible.

Was Bobby missing her yet? Was he out looking for her?

How about Jordan. Did he know? Was he concerned?

They must have found her car by now and realized something was seriously wrong.

'Can I get a drink?' she asked, deliberately sounding subservient, hoping to lull him into a false sense of security.

He grunted and led her into the kitchen.

Where was this place? Glancing over at the window she observed trees and greenery outside. Big help. They could be anywhere from Malibu to the Valley.

Yanking her across to the water-cooler, he filled a paper cup and thrust it at her.

She downed it in one big gulp. 'More,' she said thirstily.

'No more.'

Why?'

'Because I'm not bringing you up to the bathroom again.'

'Why not?'

'You talk too much.'

He hadn't heard the half of it. 'How about something to eat?'

'No.'

'For Cheryl? It'll soothe her stomach.'

'No,' he repeated harshly, and began pulling her back towards the door.

She glanced over at the window one more time. Freedom. She'd never missed it until she didn't have it.

Oh, God! What could she do to get out of this?

And then she saw a sight that made her spirits rise and filled her with hope. Cheryl, outside the house - stumbling, escaping, running for her life.

There was a chance for survival after all.

Mac was driving out of the studio when Quincy spotted him and did a fast U-turn.

Michael jumped out of Quincy's car, flagged Mac down, ran over and tapped on the window of the Rolls. 'How come you never mentioned Luca Carlotti was Zane Ricca's uncle?' he asked sharply. 'Didn't you know?'

Mac took a beat. Should he bluff it out, or was it best to go with the truth?

Jordanna was missing. It had to be the truth.

'I knew,' he admitted.

'So why didn't you-'

'Hey,' Mac interrupted. 'What's done is old news. The important thing is to find Jordanna.'

'Have you spoken to Luca in New York?'

'Luca's here. I'm on my way to see him.'

'Does he know where Zane is?'

'Not the last time we spoke. But he's likely to track him quicker than the cops.'

'We'll come with you.'

'I don't think Luca would appreciate that.'

'Do you give a shit?'

'Well...'

'We work for
you
, Mac. It's not like we're in the catching criminals business any more. Chances are we can help.'

'OK. Follow me.'

'Where are we going?'

'The St James's Hotel on Sunset.'

By the time Kennedy and Rosa arrived at headquarters, it was known that Cheryl Landers was missing as well as Jordanna Levitt. Her silver BMW had been traced to a tow yard - apparently abandoned on Lexington.

Detective Carlyle was in deep shit. Thanks to Jordan Levitt he was getting it from all sides, because now Boyd Keller was being pressurized from above and the hotshot had to take it out on someone. Detective Carlyle happened to be that lucky someone.

On top of everything else there were the two ballbreakers to contend with. Rosa Alvarez and Kennedy Chase, who'd descended on them with even more information. Rosa seemed to be getting very palsy with Boyd - she was all over the Boy Wonder, and Boyd didn't seem to object. As for Kennedy, she did nothing but shoot him dirty looks, like it was
his
fault the girls were missing.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind Detective Carlyle suspected that maybe it was. If only he'd connected the cases earlier, done a little more detective work...

No, he told himself firmly, it wasn't his fault. His workload overwhelmed him. Murders, beatings, stabbings, shootings, pimps, hookers, drugs, pornography, child abuse, runaways, carjackings, robberies, rapes - there was always something to grab his attention.

Boyd Keller stormed out of his newly appointed office and hooked a finger in his direction. 'Get in here, Carlyle,' he said in an unpleasant tone.

Detective Carlyle sighed. He was just about ready to pack this job in and join a private security force. He, too, was allowed to have a life.

Bosco strolled into Cartier's on Rodeo Drive as if he owned the place. He was trying very hard to emulate Luca, who had a way of making people jump to attention.

Bosco thought he could do it, too, but it never worked, even though he had the limo parked outside, and plenty of attitude. Unfortunately he did not possess Luca's commanding presence.

A saleswoman approached him.

Swaggering across to a centre showcase, he gestured at a diamond bracelet. 'Lemme take a look at that one,' he said. 'Nice, huh?'

'All our diamond bracelets are nice,' the saleswoman assured him with a slightly patronizing air.

'Show me a couple of 'em,' he said.

Luca had not told him how much he wished to spend, but Bosco knew that when Luca went after a woman, money was no object.