Retribution

CHAPTER 24

THAT GLORIA REFUSES MY ADVICE DOES NOT SURPRISE me. I’m only glad I was able to take the wind out of her sales about David. Sure, it was lie; he’s not engaged. And she’ll likely find that out on her own, but it shut her up for a minute at least.

It’s a tiny victory, even though I learned nothing new about Tremaine.

What is surprising is arriving at the warehouse, my next destination, and finding the parking lot empty.

I pull up to the door, park and look around.

Apprehension replaces the brief feeling of satisfaction. This cannot be a good sign.

I get out of the car, shut the door quietly and approach the front door.

The office is dark. I walk around the building. There is one car parked beside the loading dock, a late-model Ford sedan. On the sides and trunk of the car are those magnetic signs with “Nelson Security Services” and a telephone number superimposed over a logo.

Did Burke hire security after I broke in? Surely, though, she wouldn’t have suspended operations because of a missing file.

I walk back around to the office door and knock.

After about thirty seconds, two armed security guards appear from the back. One has a dog, another German shepherd naturally, on a short leash.

The guard with the dog comes to the door. He mouths through the glass, “Closed.”

He’s short and heavy-lidded and looks mean. So does the dog, eyeing me with a sneer and a trail of drool.

“Where is everybody?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Not a clue. Come back tomorrow. The place is supposed to reopen then.”

He turns and walks back to his partner. They both watch me through squinty eyes.

Shit.

Guards now.

With a dog, no less.

I get into my car. I’ve got to find that receptionist. I don’t want to bust my way in and subdue those guards (and dog), but I might have to.

Until I remember.

The receptionist uses Eternal Youth. Is she one of the test subjects? If so, she’ll be in that file I gave Ortiz. All had contact information on the forms. When I try to call Ortiz, his phone goes again to voice mail.

I have no choice but to drive back to Chula Vista. Even if he ’s already left for work, it’s likely Ortiz would have left the file at home.

Burke is not yet an official suspect in the death of those two women. I’ll just have to charm sweet Brooke into letting me see it.

This time, when I pull up, Ortiz’ garage door is open. There are two cars parked inside. One is his—I recognize the Navigator—the other is a candy-apple red Miata with a San Diego State bumper sticker. Brooke is probably a college student. Ortiz, you are a dog.

At least my timing is good. I’d rather deal with Ortiz than his petulant girlfriend.

And there are no other cars around. I’m assuming Edie has left, which is a relief.

I don’t know if vampires are capable of blushing, but I get the uncomfortable feeling I might if I was to see her again.

Brooke answers my ring. She must have just gotten out of the shower because her hair is wet and she’s dressed in sweats. She doesn’t say hello when she sees me, just turns on her bare feet and pads away with a curt, “He’s not here.”

I’ve accepted less cordial invitations. I let myself in and follow.

She’s trounced off to the dining room table. That she’s a student is reinforced by the open college chemistry text perched on a notebook next to a bowl of Cocoa Puffs.

She sits, thumbs a page of the text, takes a spoonful of cereal, ignores me.

I wait.

Another page, another mouthful of cereal.

Finally, I break the stalemate. “Where’s Ortiz?”

She doesn’t look up. “I told you he’s not here.”

“So. Where did he go?”

“He left for work. Ten minutes ago.”

“Who picked him up?”

Finally, a question that gets more than a bored monosyllabic reply. She turns and stares at me. “Why would anyone pick him up?”

I jerk a thumb toward the front. “Because the garage door is open and his car is inside—”

She jumps up and takes off for the door. Her reaction triggers my own alarm. When we get outside, she clasps both hands over her mouth and gasps.

“Oh god—I heard a noise, but I thought—”

I pull her hands down. “What noise?”

She’s crying. “A loud pop. Right after Mario left the house. I didn’t go look. I was still mad . . .”

She takes a step into the garage, but I’m there first. The car doors are closed but unlocked. I open the passenger side door and look in.

Ortiz’ folder, the one he had last night, is on the seat. It’s unzipped and open.

It’s also empty.

I get Brooke back inside and call Williams. He comes right over. We get Brooke calmed down and convince her that this is just some silly misunderstanding and one of Ortiz’ cop buddies did pick him up for work. When she tries his cell, it goes right to voice mail. Not necessarily a bad thing, since she says he often turns off his phone when he checks in for duty.

The tears are dried, her fears at least momentarily alleviated. We ask if she has classes today. She says yes. We convince her to go, that we’ll let her know as soon as we get through to Ortiz. She heads back to the bedroom to get ready.

Williams releases a long, pent-up breath. “Jesus. She got Ortiz.”

I feel like knocking my head against the wall. “I never should have taken that file. I should have made a copy. I’ve let Burke know we can connect her to Eternal Youth. Is she going to kill every one of those test subjects? Why? It can’t be simply to get even with me.”

Williams shakes his head. “Maybe we’ll know when we get an analysis of the product. I dropped it off on my way here. I put a rush in.

We should hear in three hours or so.”

“I can’t wait that long. I’m going to the warehouse. There were personnel files that should tell me where the receptionist lives.”

If she hasn’t gotten rid of those, too. I rub my eyes as if to rub away the thought and look up at Williams. “Where will you be? I’ll call as soon as I get to that receptionist.”

“I’ll be at the park. I’ll get the witches started on another locator spell.” He looks toward the house. “I’ll give Brooke my cell phone number, to let her know as soon as we reach Ortiz.”

His tone is lower, huskier than I’ve ever heard. His concern for Ortiz is genuine.

Maybe there’s hope for Williams yet.