Down the Darkest Road

32

“You didn’t get enough the first time?” Detective Tanner’s partner, Morino, arched an overgrown eyebrow. He looked like he’d crawled out of a laundry basket. Prewash cycle. His shirt was wrinkled and there was an oily spot the size of a quarter on his tie.

“Is Detective Tanner here or not?” Mendez asked. He had no patience for slobs. Sloppy man, sloppy work.

Even though he was technically not on duty, Mendez had dressed appropriately in pressed khaki slacks and a tucked-in black polo shirt with the FBI National Academy crest embroidered on the left chest.

“Sure,” Morino said, motioning him to follow as he headed down the hall. “It’s your lucky day—if you’re a masochist.”

“You don’t like having a lady for a partner?”

Morino laughed as they walked into the detective division and toward the small sea of steel desks where Tanner sat. “She’s no lady. She’s a vagina with a gun.”

“That’s better than being a hairy asshole with a big mouth,” Tanner said, unperturbed by her partner’s disrespect.

“Stick a tampon in it,” Morino sneered.

Tanner sneered back. “Go fuck yourself with a broom.”

“The one you flew in on?” he asked as he walked on past her.

“Yeah,” she called after him. “I sharpened the end just for you.”

Mendez took the seat at the side of her desk. “It doesn’t bother you that he talks that way to you?”

Tanner rolled her eyes. “I grew up with four brothers in a family of longshoremen. Nothing that one comes up with is going to faze me.”

“He should have some respect,” Mendez said, peeved enough for both of them. “Where’s your boss? He ought to put a stop to that.”

She huffed an impatient sigh. “I didn’t sign on to be a cop because I thought all the guys would open doors and hold my chair for me, detective,” she said. “I’ve had my ass kicked on this job. Seriously. Morino’s mouth is only a problem for me if I let it be. And believe me, in the battle of wits, he is by far outmatched. I don’t need a white knight to ride in and save me.”

Mendez scowled, shooting a look across the room where Morino was half sitting on another detective’s desk. The pair of them were sniggering like ninth graders.

“Thanks anyway,” Tanner added, getting up from her chair. “You want to look at the Lawton files?”

He wanted to go over and smack Morino upside the head. Instead, he stood up and put his attention on Tanner. “Yeah. I specifically want to see everything you have on Ballencoa himself,” he said, falling in step beside her. “My partner and I paid him a visit yesterday.”

“In San Luis?”

“In Oak Knoll. Lauren Lawton wasn’t seeing ghosts. He’s there.”

“Boy, this is your lucky week,” Tanner said.

“Tell me about it. The bastard got me suspended.”

Surprised, she arched a brow. “What’d he do? Make you forget to dot an i or cross a t?”

“He pissed me off,” Mendez admitted. “I said something he misconstrued as a threat.”

“Like what?”

“Basically, I told him if he took a step wrong in my town, I’d have his ass.”

Tanner chuckled as she opened the door to the small room with the Lawton case files stacked up inside. “So you’re not so buttoned-up all the time, Mr. National Academy? You have a little hot side, do you?” she teased. “I like that.”

Mendez pretended not to notice the flirtatious look she gave him as he walked into the room. “Ballencoa had a tape recorder in his pocket. He played the tape for my boss.”

“Ouch,” she said, wincing. “He’s an asshole like that, you know? He’s like that creepy little shit that everybody went to school with and nobody could stand. The kid that would rat you out to the teacher for a piece of gum, then spend his free time pulling the wings off flies. Fucking little weirdo.

“He’s an asshole all the way around,” she said. “A puckered, shriveled-up, cancerous asshole. Here he threatened to sue the department and the lead detective on the case at the time. He actually started proceedings. The town council offered him a settlement to make him go away.”

“How much of a settlement?”

“Fifty K, I heard. He would have sued for six figures. I guess they thought they would get off cheaper this way.”

“That explains how he can afford to rent two places,” Mendez said.

“Oh, that’s walking-around money for Roland. He inherited a tidy sum from the aunt that raised him.”

“What did she die of?”

“Personally, I think she died of being Roland’s aunt,” Tanner said as she scanned the file boxes for the one she wanted.

“The official cause of death was head trauma due to an accidental fall down a flight of stairs. She was dead on the floor for four or five days during a heat wave before she was found. Major decomp. It would have been hard for the coroner to tell the difference between a fall and a beating. Ballencoa was her sole heir.”

“To how much?”

“Around two million.”

“How old was he at the time?”

“Twenty-one. Fresh out of the can from his lewd acts conviction.” She tapped the end of a box stacked taller than she was. “That’s the one you want.”

Mendez reached up to get it. The room was so small they were almost body to body. She ducked under his arm and sidled toward the door to get out of his way, briefly putting a hand against his side to keep her balance. He was more aware of her touch than he should have been.

“Did the cops look at him?” he asked.

“They talked to him and a pal of his from jail—Michael Craig Houston, another budding psychopath. The local press made them out to be Leopold and Loeb, but nothing came of it. They gave each other alibis, and nobody ever proved murder anyway, so if they did it, they got away with it.”

“What happened to Ballencoa’s parents?” he asked, following her back out into the hall.

“Mom OD’d when he was ten or twelve,” she said, leading him into a conference room. “There was no father in the picture as far as I know.”

“Where’d all this happy family stuff go on?”

“North of Eureka,” she said. “Where the odds are good that the goods are odd. The gene pool is a puddle in some of those little logging towns up there.”

Mendez set the box on the table and took the top off. Tanner ran a fingertip back over the files and pulled out the one she wanted. Her nails were short and neat with no polish. She wore no rings.

“There isn’t a ton of stuff in here. It’s a little more than I gave you the other night. There’s a couple of old news clippings on the aunt’s death, and some contact numbers for the other agencies that have dealt with him,” she said with a shrug. “We got called off, you know.”

“So did I,” Mendez said, flipping the folder open.

Tanner’s chuckle had a slightly evil quality to it. “I like you, Mendez. You’re my kind of cop.”

She boosted herself up to sit on the table as he took a seat. As she had been the first time he’d met her, she was in black slacks and T-shirt, this time with a gold blazer that set off the green of her eyes. Her blond hair was slicked back in a no-nonsense ponytail.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” she asked.

“Whatever jumps out at me. I want to know as much about this guy as I can. I’m meeting with Vince Leone this afternoon to talk about him.”

Tanner looked impressed. “Wow. Cute, a hard-ass, a gentleman, and connected. I may have to start fanning myself soon.”

Mendez felt himself blush, and he fought the little smile that wanted to go with it, reminding himself that he was here on business. He put his eyes back on the file, knowing Tanner was amused with his reaction.

“You’re into the whole profiling thing?” she said.

“What? You don’t believe in it?” There were still plenty of meat-and-potatoes cops who thought it was a waste of time.

“I don’t personally care if Roland’s auntie played with his pee-pee when he was twelve and that’s why he needs to control women,” she said. “But I’ll use every tool in the box if it gets me my bad guy. If you can find something in his past that connects him to our present, I’m all for it. I’d be thrilled to be the one to close this case, if you don’t mind sharing.”

“I don’t mind sharing,” he said, skimming the pages in front of him. “If he did the Lawton girl, he needs to go away. I don’t give a shit about jurisdiction. As far as we know, he hasn’t done anything serious in Oak Knoll, but already I don’t want him there.”

He flicked through the pages, looking for the information regarding Ballencoa’s trouble in San Diego.

“Ballencoa did a few months in a San Diego jail for breaking and entering—”

“Stealing ladies’ undies.”

“Did you ever connect him to any B and Es here?” he asked.

“No,” Tanner said. “Our focus was the abduction. But Lauren Lawton was pretty adamant that he had been in her home not long before he moved out of town.”

“You didn’t believe her?”

“Actually, I did believe her, but it wasn’t my call,” she admitted. “Guys don’t get this, but a woman knows when somebody’s been touching her stuff. We’ve got a different instinct for that. I believed her. But we had nothing to go on. He didn’t leave any trace of himself. And by then the lead detective was so sick of Mrs. Lawton, I think he would have been just as happy to have her disappear.”

“That’s a great attitude,” Mendez said sarcastically. “No wonder she got herself a gun.”

Tanner’s eyes went wide. “Oh, Jesus. Lauren Lawton has a gun? That’s a bad idea.”

“She believes she had Ballencoa sitting in her house jerking off in her underwear while she was at the supermarket, and your people couldn’t be bothered to help her. Can you really blame her?”

“No. I can’t,” she conceded. “Like I said the other day: If I was her, I would have tortured that son of bitch until he gave up my kid, and then I would have killed him anyway.”

“She said he was stalking her,” Mendez said. “From a psychological standpoint, that makes sense. He got whatever thrill he got taking the daughter. Tormenting the mother furthers the kick for him. He gets to keep reliving whatever he did to the girl plus cause the mother to have to relive it and worry about the child she still has, to say nothing of being concerned for her own safety. Big bonus points for a sick fuck like him.”

“And now he’s brought his act to your town.”

“I’ll shut him down,” he said. “If Lauren Lawton doesn’t do it first. I need to keep that from happening.

“I’ve got some recent open B and Es that could fit him,” he said. “The MO would be right. He gets in, messes around, but doesn’t take anything—that they notice, anyway. When he leaves, he leaves the way he came in. If he came in through a window, he leaves the window open. If he came in through a door, he leaves the door open.”

“He wants the homeowner to know he’s been there,” Tanner said.

“It’s his way of saying, ‘Fuck you, you can’t touch me.’ It’s a power trip. He can come and go as he pleases. He doesn’t leave anything behind. Nobody sees him. There’s nothing we can do.”

“I’ll go back in our records and see if there were any unsolved similar cases while he was here,” Tanner said. “If we had any cases like that prior to Leslie Lawton’s abduction, could be nobody ever looked for a link. Did you ask the San Luis detectives?”

“No,” Mendez said. “But the guy we talked to up there couldn’t connect the links in a chain.”

“Neri? He’s counting the days until he can retire and be a mall cop in his free time. Let me make a couple of calls. I know some people up there.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you,” she said, sliding off the table. She looked a little uncomfortable, like the admission she was about to make wanted to stick to the roof of her mouth. “For including me,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

“It was your case first,” he said. “Why would I try to shut you out?”

Tanner laughed. “Christ, what planet are you from? Can I go there? In my world, doors wouldn’t open if I didn’t kick them down. I only got this case because it’s colder than a well digger’s ass. Nobody wanted it. Nobody wanted to deal with Lauren Lawton, and nobody thinks I have a snowball’s chance in hell of solving it. I was beginning to think they might be right.”

“Let’s hope not.”

She gave him a long look, but he couldn’t read her. She was probably a hell of a poker player—if the boys ever let her in the game.

“I’ll go make that call,” she said.

He watched her walk out of the door, thinking there was a story behind Danni Tanner, and maybe someday he would find out what it was. Later. After he put Roland Ballencoa behind bars.