19 Souls Page 7

She marched about three feet and spun around. Hopefully Bean was just chatting, getting her precious information on her “brother.” The asshole loser needed her cash. With any luck he wouldn’t give two shits about the why of finding anyone. She looked through the binocs again.

  Not really his business at all, is it?

  “PIs would go broke if they only took cases that found out good things about good people.”

  They moved, and she found them in time to see them entering a cottage.

  No telling what Bean’s thoughts were until he let her know.

  An hour later, they hadn’t come out.

  “Fuck.” Sophie slammed the hood down.

  There’s always a plan B.

  “Too soon for that.”

  15

  Detective Miller was on the phone, running down what his guys intended to do, but Jim was distracted as Dan slammed a pair of boots into an old duffle bag. The thing was covered in rodeo patches and torn in two places.

  Dan was making a living here, but it was simple. Cheap. Jim couldn’t help but think of Dan as a boy who needed help, running from a past that was not in his control. Living on an as-needed basis. Using what was left of his skills as a rodeo star to be a ranch hand at a cheesy tourist trap. Spooky similar to Jim’s running to Vegas and using what was left of his life to start his investigative agency.

  Dan’s face was beet red. The color spread to his neck. “I have to get to Cynthia. If Sophie … ” Dan mumbled as his panic peaked.

  Jim finished up his conversation with Miller. The guy was a good cop with the Las Vegas Police Department. The police worked with PIs most of the time, provided you weren’t moving in on a case they were working. And provided you weren’t a pain in the ass. Jim usually managed to break both those caveats.

  “I talked to a detective in Vegas. He’s putting out a BOLO for Sophie and sending uniforms to check on your sister right away.”

  Dan had convinced Jim that Sophie was, in fact, playing him. It took all of five minutes. Dan had pictures of both women. His sister looked just like her mother, Lynette, in the nursing home. Plus this client had felt odd to him from the beginning.

  Clearly, Sophie had lied to him. Used him. Violated him? What if he hadn’t just been drunk in Texas? What if she’d drugged him? Hard to wrap your head around being sexually assaulted by a woman. No way. It couldn’t be. He’d wanted her. He remembered that much. Remembered the way she felt.

  Then again, if he was not under the influence of alcohol or drugs, he would never sleep with a client. Wouldn’t under any circumstance confuse the professional relationship. Fuck. He fought off a wave of bile threatening to bring back his breakfast.

  And if she had really killed two people associated with Dan ten years ago, there was a bigger problem to deal with than what had happened in that Texas hotel room.

  “Dan. Slow down. We need to think this through. She hired me to find you. If she was anxious enough to follow me to Texas, there’s a good chance she’s right on my ass now. Here.”

  Dan made a deep growling sound. “No one’s called me Dan since I left Texas and right now all I can hear is Sophie saying my name.” He slid a light straw cowboy hat onto his head. The mirror by the door caught his attention. With a quiet hesitation he said, “I’m Daniel Hodge.”

  He grabbed up his bag and shook it to make more room. “I want my name back. Sophie’s a ghost I didn’t want to tangle with, but she’s back. I need this to stop. I’ve got to make sure my mom and Cynthia are okay.”

  “I get that.” Jim had changed his name to run away from something he’d wanted to forget as well. One difference: he hated the sound of his birth name now. No going back. Never wanted it back.

  Dan paused. “Did you tell her you were coming here?”

  “In general. But not specifically.” Jim caught the shaving bag Dan tossed toward the bed. “Look. Let me drive you to Vegas. We’ll meet with Detective Miller. He’s a friend of mine. A good cop too. We’ll check it all out. We’ll find her and settle this mess for good.”

  “I can drive to Vegas.”

  “I know you can. Fact is, if she followed me, she’s got a line on you. I want to be able to protect you.”

  “She won’t hurt me.” Dan put his hands on his hips and looked up at the ceiling. “She wants me. She’s had this fantasy of us being married and shit since she was a kid. I told her not to think that way a thousand times. It just got worse. She got more and more needy.”

  “Don’t be so sure. I once saw a woman shoot her husband in the foot over a few bucks. Women are not afraid to do some damage. She’s been looking for you for a while if she went to this kind of extreme.”

  Jim did the math in his head. She could have left right after their phone call last night. Time was running out if she had followed. “Listen, Dan. I hate that I brought this on you. I do. But it’s done. I can help you. I have friends that can help you. The longer we stay here, the more chance she knows I found you. We need the time to get to Vegas before she does. That way, we can catch her before she does any more harm.”

  Dan jerked the zipper shut on the bag. “Fine. But she knows your car. We should take my truck.”

  Made sense. “Okay.”

  “I’m driving.” Dan tossed his head to the back of the cabin. “Truck’s out back.”

  They exited the cabin: there were three trucks sitting back there. Two were regular, base model, everyday pickups. They walked past those to a small lean-to shed. Inside was a fire engine red eighties Ram with twin pipes that shot up over the back glass and exhausted above the cab. It was jacked higher than a street truck, but not so much the thing would tip over in a tight curve. Chrome everywhere. Pretty thing. Dan walked up and tossed the bag in the back.

  He got in and started up the truck. It roared like a bear on a mission.

  “So much for living a quiet life.”

  “A guy’s gotta have a hobby.” Dan tilted his hat. “Consider it hiding in plain sight.”

  “I’ll feel like a sitting duck in this thing. Might as well have a target painted on the tailgate.”

  “If you don’t like it, you can ride on your own. I want to be able to do my own thing if I need to.”

  “Disappear again?”

  “No offense, dude, but if I have to, I will. Right now, I just want to check on my sister.”

  “I need to grab a few things from my car.” Jim didn’t want the man going to Cynthia’s at all. The drive was almost five hours. He suspected they’d get a call from Miller about Cynthia long before they hit the Vegas city limits. And then there was another soul to worry over. Dan had not mentioned her and Jim forgot to have Miller check on Dan’s mom in the rest home.

  “Wait here.” Jim scooted back the way he’d come, ducking behind fence rails and water troughs. He eyed the surroundings. Only one good vantage point to spy on the open area and a car similar to the one Sophie had been driving was sitting right there next to an old mailbox. He didn’t have his binocs, so he couldn’t verify, but his intuition told him it was her.

  He crawled along parked vehicles to his car. She wouldn’t be able to see. He slowly opened the driver’s door and pulled out his laptop bag and his small duffle. The rest would have to stay put for a few days. With any luck the ranch owner would have it towed. Impound’s a safe place for a car to be.

  He crawled back to the barn and made his way around the cabin keeping fairly good cover. With any luck, he hadn’t been spotted. But everyone knew Jim’s luck sucked.

  “Go.”

  16

  Miller’s call came before the screaming red truck crossed the Nevada border. The detective’s voice was shaky. “It’s a fucking mess in there, Bean.”

  Not what Jim wanted to hear. He’d been holding out hope that this was all a nightmare. He wasn’t sure his reputation could survive getting hired by a killer to help h
er find the object of her obsession. “Yeah?”

  “Throat cut. Left to decompose in the tub with some drain cleaner to speed it along. Looks like Sophie has been staying in the vic’s house with the body. She’s been living in the space with the vic in that tub. Clear evidence she’s been eating in the kitchen and she’s slept in Cynthia’s bed.”

  “Damn.”

  “More than damn. ME’s doing his thing to collect her now. He’ll probably have her out before you two roll into town, but I think it’s best your boy doesn’t come here until we’ve cleared out and there’s been some clean up. Not how I’d want to remember my sister. Bring him to the station. I’ll meet you there.”

  Now Jim really wished he’d not forgotten to tell Miller to check on Dan’s mother. The acid in his stomach churned and his pulse sped up at the thought of something so horrid happening to an elderly woman. She was all alone in that nursing home.

  “Check his mother. Silver Hills nursing home on North Buffalo.”

  “Ahead of you for once. Saw some paperwork on Cynthia’s desk. Already tracked her. She’s fine. Got a uniform outside her room.”

  The sense of relief was almost as good as the burning of a good scotch going down this throat. Would not have wanted to deliver that much bad news to Dan. Cynthia’s death was going to be hard enough.

  “Check in when you get in town.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Miller.” Jim hung up and glanced over at Dan. His face was tight. Grim. He knew what the call was about.

  “Why don’t you let me drive for a bit? I won’t scratch the paint, I promise.” Jim looked straight forward, not wanting to see the pain in the kid’s eyes. Not wanting to be the guy to deliver the painful blow. Jim glanced his way.

  Dan was chewing on his upper lip. “She’s dead?”

  No real need to answer. Silence was the coward’s way out and Jim was going to take it.

  Dan screeched to a stop on the shoulder, slammed the truck in to park, and got out. At first he just looked across the cloudless sky with his hands propped on his hips and his shoulders sagged. He closed his eyes tight for a moment, chin trembling, and then he took in a long breath. Tears escaped the outer corners of his eyes. He made no move to rub them away.

  Jim felt the anger and grief roll off Dan like steam as he lumbered a hundred yards or so down the shoulder of the highway. He spun and paced back, his boots scuffing the asphalt at a military pace. He turned again and stopped with his back turned. His shoulders shook.

  Jim stood numb-footed next to the truck. Staying impartial over this case was no longer possible. Sophie had made sure of that. He internally raged at the thought of his night with her, wishing she was within reach so he could choke the life from her. Sooner or later his night with her would come out. He’d have to talk to Miller or someone about it. Maybe. If she’d drugged him and used him as a distraction from the case, or as a ploy to keep him off her track. Using his self-doubt and self-blame to keep him from seeing behind her deadly mask. He didn’t know Cynthia or Dan, but their lives were forever changed by Jim’s fuck up. Vetting customers who paid cash wasn’t something he always did. He’d only run checks on the guys who wanted him to work on credit. That would change.

  Jim made his way to the front of the truck.

  Dan paced down the road and back once more. He used his sleeve to clean his face and sniffed as he met up with Jim and leaned against the hood as well, both facing south, toward Vegas.

  “I’m sorry, Dan.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll get the details … ”

  “How?”

  He deserved to know. “Throat cut.”

  Dan’s eyelids clinched shut again. Jim chose to leave the rest of the details for Miller to pass on. “Your mother’s fine. They have a uniform outside her room to make sure she stays that way.”

  Dan nodded again. “Now what?”

  “We go see Miller. They’ll probably want to put you and your mom in some sort of protective custody while they trace Sophie.”

  Dan kept looking straight ahead, as if looking at Jim—at anyone—would cause him to break.

  “Miller says the FBI is looking for Sophie as well. Got a flag when he ran her name. Not really a surprise, given the lengths she went to. She may have killed more than just those two girls you suspected.”

  One small nod. “Cynthia’s dead. I can’t believe it. I should have figured Sophie would use my family to get to me.”

  “No way you could know she’d go this far. Blaming yourself is counterproductive at this point. She’s out there. We need to help the cops help you.”

  Dan stared down the perpetual white line toward Vegas.

  “Let me drive you in. You relax. Think of anything you might be able to give the police that will help catch her.”

  Jim thought the man would argue. His body was stiff and his face tight, defensive.

  “What’s she like now?” His voice cracked slightly.

  “Sophie?”

  “Yeah.” He looked at Jim, his eyes etched with grief.

  “When she hired me, she was in a suit. Direct. Gave me cash. Not a lot of emotion. Just how I like my clients.” He neglected to mention how much that changed the next time he’d seen her.

  “I could rip that crazy daughter-of-a-boondock-whore to shreds with my bare hands. No remorse. No guilt.”

  “I’m no doctor, but I’m certain that’s a damn normal reaction to the situation. We could make it a party.”

  “Are they going to find her?”

  “Yeah. If LVPD doesn’t, I will. That’s what I do.”

  17

  Several cop cars and a big van sat outside Cynthia Hodge’s shitty little house as Sophie cruised by acting like a lookie-loo neighbor. Her scalp itched in the short blond wig, and the stupid dog in the back of the van wouldn’t quit whining, but she would have to make do until she figured the lay of the land. Two men in street clothes with badges at their waists stood out front talking with a uniformed cop. Slacks and dress shirts meant those were the guys in charge.

  A block away, she parked and got the dog out.

  The scruffy-looking mutt had been tied up outside a roadside restaurant where she had stopped to pee on the road back from Utah. Seeing the squeaky little thing had given her an idea. On the way out, he was still there, and still eager for attention. Sophie baby talked as she slipped his leash off the post and absconded with the dog. Now he was happy as pie to be walking along beside her. A grand adventure, it seemed. They rounded the corner and walked causally down the street, directly across from the house with the dead body inside. Cynthia’s house. Sophie paused as the pup peed on a street sign and the big van pulled away. Likely the ME picking up her mess.

  So it wasn’t there any longer. Sophie cursed herself for not taking a photo or even a peek at the deterioration the drain cleaner caused before leaving the house. The decay would have been far from finished, but the melted patterns of her flesh would have been cool as hell. No matter.

  She got a good look at the guy in the front yard. Men in charge were always easy to pick out. With cops it was even easier. They all felt they were better, special. This one oozed that hubris as others approached for instructions, information. Within a few seconds, he glanced at her. She gave him an uneasy smile and worried eye contact for long enough to get his attention, no more. The actions said she was just a curious neighbor. He gave her a curt nod.

  Perfect.

  No further interaction was needed and she urged the dog to abandon whatever smell had him so intrigued and move on. It had not been soon enough. Next thing she knew a uniform was hurrying up the street after her.

  “Ma’am … Ma’am.”

  She stopped as he closed in. Without fear, the mutt jumped on his pants legs, wiggling his tail, begging for attention. She gave the officer a big smile. No need to make an attempt
to remove the distraction.

  “I’m … ”

  “Going to ask me if I know what happened at that house, right?”

  He returned her pleasantry with his own smile. Guy needed dental work. Shouldn’t the state have a plan for that or something? She almost asked but he spoke first.

  “Do you know Cynthia Hodge?”

  Hearing her name almost made Sophie cringe. That person was gone. But she kept the fake smile over her face. She’d used the same plastic mask to cover her emotions for years and it hadn’t failed to fool yet.

  “No. Sorry. I’m house sitting a block away.” She pointed over her shoulder to indicate a vague direction. “I’ve only been in the neighborhood since yesterday.”

  The mutt was still jumping, whining for attention. The officer relented and bent down to give him a friendly little head rub. Frumpy brown hair flopped with the motion. “Cute dog. What’s his name?”

  Her mind was suddenly blank. Sophie had never had a pet. She’d never been allowed one when she was younger and never wanted the stinking things around since she could make that kind of decision on her own. An arbitrary pet name shouldn’t be so hard to conjure. “Carl.”

  “Carl?”

  That was dumb. But it was the best thing she had. She shrugged. “Like I said, house sitting. He’s not mine.”

  “So, I guess that means you didn’t notice anything unusual in the last couple days?”

  “I wouldn’t know unusual for this place. I live near the Strip. Not much around here would make it high on the unusual scale for me.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” He handed her a card.

  She tilted her head to indicate the crime-scene-tape-encased yard. “What’s the detective’s name? The one in the blue shirt.”

  “Miller, ma’am.”

  Miller was now getting in a navy blue Charger, unmarked. She memorized the plate.

  “Would you prefer to talk to him?”

  “Oh no. I really can’t help you.” She smiled at him and pulled the dog away. “He just looked familiar.” She walked off, wondering at what pace one walks a creature that wants to stop and smell everything.