Gone at Zero Hundred 00:00, page 10
THIRTY-ONE
WHEN I pulled out of the parking lot for Sutter P.D., I couldn’t help but notice the blue Ford Taurus carrying two of Sutter Beach’s undercover officers following me from two cars back. Carter must have ordered them to follow me and keep me out of trouble. Ah, he was worried about me.
I pretended I didn’t know they were there, and headed back to the Grant residence. I was hoping to have a talk with the maid. The way she responded to the news of Tamara’s death, made me think she was more concerned than Howard and Aaron Grant. Maybe the maid knew something. Like why did Tamara leave?
I spotted the media vans as soon as I pulled onto Vanderbilt Drive. News broke that the housekeeper of a wealthy attorney had been murdered. The fact that the housekeeper ran away long before, only made the story more intriguing to the press and tabloids. The way the reporters were set up in the area; anyone coming and going would have to pass them first. That didn’t stop me.
I pulled up to the circular drive and watched them flock like vultures out for a kill. Several questions came my way when I opened the door. I gave them an innocent smile. “I don’t know anything. You might want to check with the lead detectives on the case,” I said, and I pointed toward the Taurus that pulled in behind me.
As I expected, the media flocked in their direction. They surrounded the car shoving microphones their way. I waved to the officers and smiled. From the look on their faces, I knew they’d figure out a way to get a little payback. Cops don’t like dealing with the media, or being played by an eighteen-year-old.
THIRTY-TWO
I KNOCKED on the door, and waited several seconds before the butler opened the door and peaked out.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said, appearing anxious. “It’s been crazy all morning, between the phone and the media pounding on the door.”
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, apologetically. “Would Howard or Aaron Grant happen to be home?” I was hoping they weren’t.
“No. They are not expected for some time.” He spoke more freely without the employers there to watch over him.
“Then, may I speak with you and Margarita? It will only take a few moments.”
He reluctantly allowed me inside, and led me down the hall. We passed several large rooms, and entered the kitchen. Margarita was seated at the counter. She had tissues in her hand, and her eyes were bloodshot from crying. I noticed two suitcases sitting by the back door. Were they planning on skipping out? When Margarita saw me, she went into hysterics, mumbling in Spanish. I couldn’t understand what she was saying and had to look to Jose for clarification.
“Tamara was like a daughter to us,” Jose said. “Margarita is taking it very hard.”
I walked over and stood next to her. “I lost my mother in the same way,” I said to her. “So, I understand how bad you must feel.”
She took my hands and covered them with hers.
“Margarita,” I said. “What happened with Tamara? What made her leave here?”
The minute I saw the horrified look on both of their faces, I knew I was opening up a can of worms. Jose looked at Margarita and willed her not to speak, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“It was his fault. He made her leave,” Margarita said. The pain and anger she was feeling, was clear.
Jose threw his hands up in the air, and started to pace around the room.
“Who made her leave? Howard Grant…?”
“Margarita, no…!” Jose yelled. The fear he felt was clear. He glanced out into the hall, anxiety etched into his features as if he was afraid someone would walk into the home and hear us.
Margarita got to her feet and peered up at her husband, who was a good foot taller than her. “Jose, we should have done something a long time ago. Tamara would still be here…”
“I beg you,” Jose replied with desperation. “The same thing could happen to us. To our family…”
That was all he would say, leaving me to wonder what they knew, but were afraid to say. Margarita rambled again in her Spanish dialect in a way I could not understand. Then, realizing Jose could be right, she slumped back down in her seat.
Jose looked at me with a look of sorrow. “I’m sorry. Nothing we say will bring Tamara back. We have family to think about. Please…”
I kept looking at both of them, hoping they’d change their mind. “I understand, Jose,” I finally said. But, I didn’t. How could I? Tamara Marquez was murdered, and these two knew something. They were just too afraid to share it. As I headed toward the door, I suspected that was the last time I would be seeing them. They had their suitcases packed. I suspected they would be gone by the time Howard and Aaron Grant got home.
THIRTY-THREE
IT SEEMED like forever since I spent any time in the firehouse, but a lot had happened in the last two days. When I looked around, I could tell somebody had been in the office. Papers were shuffled around on the desk. I ran upstairs to check. Nothing was missing, but the phone was moved. I thought of calling Carter to tell him somebody had been there, but changed my mind. He would just yell at me for not having Cody with me.
I needed to do some thinking. Somebody busted into my pickup looking for something. Now, they went through the firehouse office. What in the heck were they looking for? I slid down the fire pole and headed over to the mechanical bull.
Back in the day, the mechanical bull was used by cowboys to practice for rodeos. Speed and safety factors weren’t issues. There were a lot of injuries from people flying off the machine. That changed. They worked on fixing the timing mechanisms, and they also added air-bags. I set the timer and speed. Then, I climbed on, and slipped my left hand into the leather grip. My boots held firm to the sides. When the machine started to spin, I waved my right hand back with my body, to constrict my abs, and hit the on button. The machine started off slow; then got into a rhythm.
What were they looking for?
What was I missing?
I repeated those thoughts over and over in my mind, as my body whipped around. It wasn’t long before I was dripping in sweat, and blood was rushing to my head giving me a rush of serotonin. I felt flushed. And that’s when it dawned on me. I hit the stop button, and waited until the machine slowed to a halt. I jumped off onto wobbly legs that felt like I just spent three hours on a horse. I waddled up the stairs to my room, opened the closet door and turned the knob on the safe, using the three-digit combination. I didn’t have the patience to pick the lock. When I heard the click, I opened the door.
And there it was. The envelope my mom handed me on the day that she died. There was nothing written on the front. I ripped it open. Inside, there was a scribbled note. It looked like it was written in a hurry, so it was barely legible. Several photographs tumbled out, along with a smaller envelope. I looked to see who signed the note. Tamara Marquez.
“OMG, the Package! My eyes watered. It was the mysterious package she was referring to. I walked like a zombie back down the stairs, and sat at the desk.
I tried to decipher the scribbled note. On it, Tamara said there was a key, along with an address to her apartment inside the smaller envelope. She hid a box in the wall behind a tile in her bathroom, underneath the toilet. Then, she scribbled the same two things I saw in my mom’s file: The Humidor and The Blue Sky.
At the bottom of the note it said: Help us!
I was overwhelmed. This kind of stuff was way over my head. She went to my mom for help, an experienced investigator. I doubt she expected two eighteen-year-olds to be helping her…
I couldn’t help but wonder if I would have checked the safe before now, would I have been able to stop what happened? My fingers shook as I scattered the photos on the desk. There were four black and white photographs. The first two were fuzzy, and it was dark, but I could tell it was a party. I recognized some of the guys. A few of them were city employees for Sutter Beach. They were standing with young women in skimpy dresses, who definitely weren’t their wives. Then, I noticed another person I recognized: Aaron Grant.
The last two photos had me freaked, mostly because I didn’t understand. There were four young women dressed up as if they were mannequins on display, only the look in their eyes was vacant, or sad, or maybe they were drugged. They had to be my age, or younger. I couldn’t help but think they were screaming out: I don’t want to be here.
Who were they?
Were they in danger?
Were they at the party against their will? If so, how did they get to be all dolled up?
What the heck was going on?
While I was going back and forth with the scenarios, something dawned on me. Somebody broke into both the pickup and the firehouse. I assumed they were looking for the photos. I mean what else could it be? Then, that meant they knew Tamara contacted me. How? Were they following her? Is that how somebody knew we were meeting at the coffee shop? Was she killed because of the photos? I gathered everything up into the envelope and tucked it into my backpack. I wanted to get to Tamara’s apartment. What else did she want me to see?
THIRTY-FOUR
THE BUILDING where Tamara had been living was across the street from the park where Cody and I met for kickboxing. It was a well-kept white-stucco Spanish style, with terra-cotta tile roof and matching shutters. There were four one-bedroom units. I parked on the street out front, put the photos inside the trunk of the rambler. As I headed inside, I checked the names on the mailboxes. Tamara’s apartment was on the second floor to the right.
I trudged upstairs. As I stepped toward her door, I noticed it was slightly ajar, and crime scene tape was across the door. So, the police had already checked it out. I put my boot up to the door and nudged it open; then ducked under the tape. Wood was shattered on the frame around the lock. Did the cops do that? Or did somebody else force their way in? Were they still inside? I knew I shouldn’t go in, but my stubborn personality pushed me forward.
I stepped into the living room. It was ransacked. Everything that had been standing was knocked to the ground. Pictures were shattered. Cushions on the furniture were slit open, and there was a putrid smell. Milk had spilled onto the carpet and soured.
I took two steps down the hall toward the bedroom, and stopped. A shadow moved across the room inside. My heart pounded. I inched closer, and peered around the corner of the door. I saw a man, dressed in all black with a ski-mask to hide his face. He was rifling through the belongings in the room.
Right at that moment, a second figure walked out of the bathroom at the end of the hall and rushed at me. I slammed my backpack at his head. It only dazed him, so I kicked him in the groin with my boot. He doubled over.
Hearing us, the first guy bolted out of the room. “Don’t waste time on her,” he ordered. “Let’s go!” Then he raced down the hall without bothering me.
The second guy regained his composure, but he was pissed. He ran head first toward me, hitting me in the gut and knocked the wind out of me as he tackled me to the ground. His elbow popped me across the nose. Blood gushed out. He went to hit me again, when the other guy came back into the hall, and yelled, “I said, let’s go! We’ve got company.”
The guy on top of me leaned over and hissed in my ear. “Stay out of it McSwain, or you’ll also wind up in an alley.” Then, he tore out after his partner.
The pain on my face was immediate. A throbbing headache was sure to follow. I tried to pull myself up and sat against the wall. It took a while, before I accepted they weren’t coming back. I pushed myself up on two legs; then hurried into the bathroom. I looked at my image in the mirror. Yikes.
My face was already starting to swell. The skin under my eyes was turning a bluish color, and the throbbing pain was getting worse by the minute. I didn’t have time for that right now. I rummaged through the linen closet and snatched a wash cloth, wet it and attempted to stop the blood. At the same time, I searched under the toilet for a cracked tile.
It took me a while, but I finally found it down by the toilet valve. I kicked on the tile until it came free. Sure enough, there was a gaping hole behind it. A small box was tucked inside. I pulled it out, and tucked it under my arm for safe-keeping. A towel hung on a hook above the sink. I snatched it and headed out to the freezer; then emptied the ice tray into it. I sat down on a chair, and covered my nose with the towel to keep the swelling at a minimum. After a few seconds, I attempted to view the contents of the box.
There were four more photos, and a DVD. Two of the photos were from the same party, like the others. The last two got me scared, and then angry. In one, there was a room with several bunks, almost like a dorm, except it was dark and there was nothing on the walls. The room was sterile. The final photograph showed the three young women from the earlier photo, but there was also a young man. All four of them looked sad, and desperate.
What the heck was going on?
THIRTY-FIVE
I MUST have passed out in the chair, because the next thing I knew, Sutter Beach P.D. had the building surrounded. Carter led a team into the apartment with their guns drawn. When they spotted me, Carter yelled into the radio. “Stand down. She’s in here.”
“How did you know I was here?” I managed to mumble through the pain.
Carter sat down next to me and glared at me. “We got an anonymous call. When I heard the address, I noticed it was the same one we were at earlier with the crime scene techs. This was Tamara’s apartment.”
“An anonymous call?” I couldn’t help but wonder, who. I made an attempt to sit up, and checked the time on my phone. “Wow, is it that late?”
The other officers walked through the apartment, making sure the perps were gone.
“All clear,” one of them said a few minutes later.
“Can’t I leave you alone for a minute?” Carter said, trying to put a little levity into the situation. He examined my face. He clenched his jaw; grabbed the cloth out of my hand and went to the freezer to add more ice. “Are you trying to get killed? Because, let me tell you, you’re taking some crazy chances.”
I peered at him, hoping to garner some sympathy.
He sat back down, and exhaled. “What happened?” He looked around the ransacked apartment.
“I found out this was Tamara’s apartment, so I came to check it out. When I got here, there were two men ransacking the place. They got the better of me.”
“Did you get a look at them?”
“They were male, about six-feet-tall, physically fit, wearing all black and ski-masks.” I rubbed my temples. I was going to have a killer headache.
“I guess the fact that the crime scene tape was on the door, didn’t stop you, or the perps?”Carter got on the horn and ordered an officer to tape off the perimeter, and instructed the Ident tech to dust it for prints. He didn’t expect to get any. Then he barked out orders to scour the building and neighborhood for any witnesses. “Got any ideas of what these guys were looking for?” Carter said.
“Yeah, I have a real good idea!”
He looked at me with interest. He could hear the anger in my voice. “We did a thorough check of this place, and didn’t find anything.”
I said, “Guess you have to know where to look. I need to check something out; then I can give you what I’ve got. I’m not sure where it all leads. But, I have a feeling it’s going to be pretty messy.”
“Doesn’t get much messier than murder, Syd.”
I forced myself up. “Yeah, but how many victims?” He had no idea what I meant, and I didn’t want to get into it, just yet. But, the wheels were churning in my head.
“You don’t seriously think I’m letting you leave here on your own?”
“It’s okay. I’m going to Cody’s. He’ll keep me out of trouble.” I wanted Cody to work on the photographs and bring them into focus.
“Syd, I’m serious,” he argued. “Do not make me hall your butt in and lock you in a jail for your own safety.”
“I am serious. I’m, going to straight to Cody’s. If I go home, I’ll make him go with me.”
He eyeballed me. “Cody’s, and that’s it.”
“Trust me,” I said.
He didn’t trust me. When I walked out the door, he instructed another officer to follow me, and placed a call to Cody at the same time.
THIRTY-SIX
CODY HAD the basement in Jaden’s house set up like a small movie studio. Photographs of Jaden in his hockey gear, and action scenes, filmed and edited by Cody, covered the walls. A home entertainment system with a big-screen TV and video equipment sat in the corner with two leather recliners in front.
When I walked down the steps, Cody and Jaden were sitting in front of a desktop computer, editing film footage for the new McSwain & Beck teaser.
Jaden looked at me filled with concern. “Syd, what the heck…?”
“Looks like you forgot to duck,” Cody joked, trying to make light of it, but clenched his fists at the same time.
I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Rough day?”
“I’ve had better,” I said.
“Seriously, Syd, are you okay?” Jaden said.
“I will be,” I said, and I squeezed his arm to reassure him. “But I need some help.”
I handed him the envelopes. “Cody, I need you to enlarge the photos inside, and see if you can bring the images into focus.”
He opened the envelopes and gave them a quick look. He frowned. “What’s the time frame?”
I just stared at him.
“No problem. I live for deadlines.” He saved the document he was working on, and pulled up another software program. “Let’s see what this baby can do.”
“Mind if I use the DVD player?”
“Anything I might be interested in seeing?” Cody said sarcastically.
“I’ll let you know, you whacko.”
“Let me help, Syd,” Jaden said, and he walked over to set up the entertainment system.
