Chapter 19
Bagging It
Maria paced the Bolles' kitchen and looked out the window again, trying to ignore the merry-go-round of panicked thoughts traversing her mind.
"It's getting dark, where would he be?" Emily asked. She looked smaller than ever as she burrowed further into one of her dad's hoodies at the kitchen island.
Brandon whipped the frosting in the plastic bowl he had in a death grip. "Cate said she thought she saw him get in the Dead Don't Lie van when she walked down to talk to The Flowering Wall owner. He's probably still filming." He put the bowl down and pulled out a spatula to decorate another dozen stress-induced cupcakes. "Maria, read me his text again?"
She pulled her phone from her cardigan and reread Shane's text from hours before, though by now she could recite it word for word. " All went well. Clarissa and Greg in jail. Still no answer on who killed Nathan Dass. Call soon, need to do a little work."
"Emily," She asked, "If he went to film a scene with his cameraman, how long would he be gone?"
Her freckles were pale against her skin under the white farmhouse light above her. "A few hours? Maybe? But it's almost six o'clock."
Maria smiled tightly, trying not to scare Shane's daughter. Her mother had texted photos of Isa and her cousins dressed up for Halloween earlier. If Maria went missing, the last thing she would want is for someone to scare Isa. He's not missing Maria, he's just working late.
And yet, as much as she tried to reason with herself, something felt off.
"I'm sure he'll be here soon," she lied. "I'm going to step outside for some fresh air." She walked out the back door, past the whiteboard with the Bolles' sleuthing notes taped up. A stick figure with face tattoos now had "Ivan Melnyk" under it. Despite their best attempts, the internet had nothing on him.
The Bolles' farmland stretched out in neat rows behind the house, disappearing around a low hill in the distance. Night settled quickly this time of year, and she wished she was with Isa trick-or-treating, not worried about murders and murderers. She tried to focus on the cool air going in her lungs to calm her nerves.
It didn't work.
She dialed Levi only to get his voicemail again. The wind picked up, pushing the only wisps of clouds past the moon. She froze.
Two lights, like eyes, were on either side of the moon.
Screw this.
She ran back inside, "Brandon! There’s a Moon Dog. I'm going down to the station to get Levi. Emily, call Shane's agent, Frankie? See if he can get in touch with the cameraman."
Before either Bolles could say anything, she darted to her car. She sped out of the driveway and began a mental list of all the places Shane could be, and everything they'd discussed about his kidnapping. There weren’t that many places in town that could be used to hide someone. Her chokehold on the steering wheel tightened when she remembered how he’d gripped her hand last night.
He must have been terrified when that bag came off his head in an abandoned warehouse.
Her thoughts turned to Nathan Dass and what they’d found out about him, as she flew around the curves leading back to town. It keeps coming back to Tat Face. And now LA.
She double-parked her car in the station's parking lot as Levi walked out, cell phone in hand.
He met her at the car, "I was just about to call you. Sorry, we've been at it for hours with Clarissa Baker's attorneys. What's wrong?"
"Shane hasn't come home, yet," she said. "Is Shirley still tailing Ivan Melnyk?"
He opened the police station door for her to walk ahead of him. "She left for his place right after we booked Clarissa and Greg. Problem is, he never came back to Greg's property. We've got an alert out for his car, but I'm spread thin because of all the trick-or-treaters and news vans."
Maria tied her curls up on top of her head. "Do you have a map? There are a few places I think he might have taken Shane, but we'll need to narrow it down."
"Whoa, back up," Levi said. "Why would Shane be in trouble?"
She couldn't explain all of his story, but Shane needed her, and she needed help. "He was kidnapped in LA by some gang earlier this year. They put a bag over his head and took him to a warehouse. They keep threatening him."
Levi stood feet shoulder width apart and held his hand up so she couldn't walk further. "And neither of you thought to mention that?"
"I'm sorry, he didn't tell me until last night. I don't think he wanted to tell anyone."
"What did they want?"
Maria couldn't very well tell him that Shane raises the dead, so she just embellished a little, "To extort him, money I think? Something about his show. And when you were arresting Clarissa and Greg, we found out that Nathan Dass was in town to deliver a package for Ivan Melnyk. It was an empty box from Ivan, to himself from a P.O. box in LA. I think Melnyk is part of the gang that kidnapped him."
The muscles in Levi's cheek went taut as he unclipped a radio on his belt. "I need a high alert on Ivan Melnyk’s car," he said into the radio. "This takes priority; consider him armed and dangerous."
He gestured for Maria to walk again, "Come on, I have a map in my office. Show me where you think he is."
***
Shane worried at the ropes that bound his hands behind his back, trying anything to loosen them. He could hear his cameraman, Gary's labored breathing somewhere to his left.
It felt like hours since he got into the news van only to find a masked man holding a gun to Gary's head. The kidnapper didn't say anything. He just handed Shane a cell phone with a map pulled up. Shane took one look around at all the wannabe sleuths and reporters in the town square and nodded. He navigated for Gary and when they finally stopped, he knew what to expect.
Just do what they want. They need you, and once you're done, you and Gary can both go home.
The bag finally came off his head, and he blinked in the dimly lit storage unit.
Frankie stood at the far end, smoking a cigarette.
"Frankie?" Shane asked, his feet thrashing against their restraints in the metal chair. Even as he spoke though, all the pieces started to fall together. "What are you doing?"
"I told you," Frankie said, stomping on his stump of a cigarette and pulling out another in one fluid move. "I needed this show to make money."
The man behind Shane took off his ski mask, and Shane jerked back at Frankie. He blurted, "You're working with Tat Face?"
"I needed you to Raise Nathan Dass," Frankie ignored his question and walked closer. The rancid secondhand smoke hit Shane harder each time Frankie gestured with it. "I lined everything up. All you needed to do was go to the morgue, do your thing, and I would have caught it all on camera. We'd be rich, Shane. You just needed to do this one little part and we'd be rolling in it. Do you know how much we would have made with one YouTube video?"
Shane needed to keep him talking, which would be easy because he had a thousand questions and Frankie loved to talk. Madison was planning to tail Ivan Melnyk again. They would eventually find him. The rope cut further into his wrists as he balled his fists behind him. "When did you find out?" Shane began. "And how?" Gary turned toward him and Frankie with each question, as if he watched a tennis match under the brown bag covering his head.
"The Milkman Murder. You were always so cagey and private about the morgue visits. Something seemed off. I thought you might get your kicks rubbing up on dead bodies or something, so one day I beat you to the morgue and hid in a closet." He ran a manicured thumb over his hairy knuckles, each one cracking as he spoke. "I wanted to see what was going on. And lemme tell you—I almost shit myself when I saw what you were doing."
Shane felt like an idiot. He had taken so many risks, and had grown so comfortable with the Raisings over the years. He should have known that Frankie would have followed him one day. He should have realized why he kept pushing to show the bodies on the show. He fought back the nausea threatening to overtake him.
"So you're the one that killed the trucker, Nathan Dass, then?"
"I didn't," Frankie said, pointing to himself, and then at Tat Face. "But he did." He took a seat in the empty chair across from Shane. "Don't get worked up about that piece of crap. Nathan Dass was almost $80K in debt with Ivan’s boss. He was going to die one way or another." He took another drag on his cigarette as his gold bracelet slipped down into the sleeve of his Dolce and Gabbana silk shirt. "He needed to die; I needed a body. It was a win-win so more people wouldn’t get hurt."
Shane breathed through his mouth. His stomach was already doing flips and the musty smell of the empty storage unit and the too-familiar Marlboro Light smoke made his stomach roil. "You were there when I was kidnapped before. That was you in the back of the warehouse smoking, wasn't it?"
"Yea, but trust me. I didn't wanna be." He glanced over Shane's shoulder at Tat Face standing guard. "I didn't have any choice in the matter. I owed his boss a chunk of cash. I got over my skis in LA, and I needed an influx of cash fast."
Shane deadpanned, "Glad to hear you decided to sell me out to fund your bad habits."
"Look," Frankie said, pointing the cigarette in Shane’s face. "I invested everything into your show because I knew one day your little special powers would get out and I'd have it all on film. But the Brigazis called in their advance before I could catch you on camera. I had to tell them what you could do. It's not my fault they wanted to see it in person."
"Nothing is ever your fault, right?" Shane said, laughing. "I'm responsible for your new boats, all the women you chased, and the private planes you took everywhere. You can do math, Frankie. At some point it was going to catch up to you."
"Don't get high and mighty on me, Shane. I watched you whore yourself through LA and I know what it's like to keep up. I'm the one that thought of DDL. I made you. And all I got was a joke of a percentage for signing you with those producers that tanked the show. None of this would have happened if our viewership hadn’t taken a nosedive."
"You. Are. A. Producer now, Frankie." Shane said, shrugging his shoulders. "If you're so much smarter than us and so much better at show business, why weren’t you able to turn the show around?"
Frankie smiled and leaned forward over the folding table between them. "What do you think I'm doing now?" He held his hands out wide, gesturing around the stuffy, dark room. "I'm turning the show around."
Shane's stomach dropped with the sickening realization of why Gary was bagged next to him. He strained against the ropes, "Frankie. Don't do this. We'll figure out another way."
"Wish I could. But I'm out of time and out of options." Frankie rubbed his hand over his stubble and glanced down at his phone. He looked past Shane's stricken face to Tat Face, "We have enough viewers now. It's time."
Tat Face moved behind him, and Shane recoiled while asking, "Time for what?" He dreaded the answer but needed to keep Frankie talking.
"Can't have anyone saying we green screened this," Frankie said as he set up a tripod in front of Gary's chair. "We're live streaming in four minutes."
Gary's muffled cries started anew as he shook his bagged head back and forth. Shane shut his eyes against the onslaught of light as Tat Face turned on the yellow work lights staged around the storage unit. Each pop of a bulb made Gary flinch, and Shane racked his brain for every threat he could say to slow this down.
"I won't do it. Live stream all you want. You'll be caught on camera killing someone, they'll triangulate your location, and I'll just sit here until you're arrested or you kill me, too. But you can't make me Raise someone."
Frankie threw a small duffle bag on the table, thudding in the hum of the lights. "I got everything you need in here. Sumac, the salt, white sage. It's all here," he said, ignoring Shane's threats. But Shane clocked the way Frankie's hands were shaking, even if his voice sounded calm.
Shane's metal chair screeched loud over the concrete floors as he strained against his ropes. "I'm serious Frankie! I won't do it. You'll kill him for nothing."
"No," Frankie said, sweat beading on his bald head. "We killed Nathan Dass for nothing. Ivan here had the cameras staged and everything, but you refused to go see his body. Gary's death will be on you, and this time, there's no backing out."
Shane shook his head in disbelief. "How delusional are you? Didn't you hear me? I said I won't Raise him. Go ahead, kill him," he silently apologized to Gary in his head, and hoped Frankie wouldn't call his bluff. "I don't care about him. I won't Raise him."
Frankie kicked the chair across from Shane and pointed to Tat Face as the chair clanged against the metal wall. "Do you know who they wanted to kill? Emily was at the top of the list. Then they pivoted to your dad, thinking you'd cooperate better if they could use the threat of hurting Emily to entice you. Ivan suggested we grab your new lover on the way here, but we couldn't because a cop car was parked outside of her house."
"It won't end, Frankie," Shane said, blocking out the images Frankie had conjured. "Don't you get that? Even if you think you can get out of this with your hands clean, they'll be able to tell anyone that you were an accomplice. Where do you think you're going to go?"
"China? Vietnam? Saudi Arabia? I can think of a lot of nice places where a man with money can live large that don’t extradite to the US." Frankie stood behind the camera across from Gary and said to Ivan, "One minute."
Ivan pulled his ski mask back over his face and stood behind Gary. He pulled out a serrated knife and Shane started to pray silently in his head. Frankie wouldn’t kill Shane if he knew he could make money off of him, but Gary was a loyal friend. He didn’t deserve this. Shane struggled with the ropes to no avail. He had never felt more useless as Frankie counted down from 10 aloud. Gary must have caught on because he wept under his hood, the sound echoing as Frankie silently mouthed the numbers once he hit three. Frankie’s three fat fingers shook even as he leaned down to view the camera angle.
Gravel sprayed outside the storage unit, pelting against the metal like gunfire. Frankie tumbled back in shock, tripping and knocking over his tripod and camera as the roll-up door was thrown open. Red and blue lights filled the space as Chief Madison and four other police cars waited on the other side, guns drawn.
"Hands in the air!" Madison shouted.
The sound of the knife clattering to the concrete was the best thing Shane had ever heard. He took deep, gulping breaths, not caring that tears rolled down in his face. He sunk back against the chair, his bones loose, grateful for being tied down still. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand just yet. An officer took the bag off Gary’s head, and his mottled red cheeks shook as he screamed his rage at Frankie.
“I will kill you for this. I know people in every prison, Frankie. I will make your life hell. My cousins will drain the life from you even if I don’t.”
“It was a s-stunt!” Frankie said, cowering in the corner and backing away from the officers approaching. He held up his hands, placating. “It just went too far, ask them. Shane, tell them I would never do something like this. Tell them. You know me. It was just for show.”
Shane rubbed the feeling back into his wrists as the cut ropes fell. “I don’t know anything Frankie. I’m just a dumb blonde past his prime, remember?”
“Maria, stay in the—” Madison tried, but Maria was faster. She ran to Shane, knocking him back against the chair as she embraced him.
She ran her hands up and down his sides and face, searching for injury. “Are you hurt? Bleeding?”
He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing tight and inhaling the melon scent of her shampoo. The adrenaline was draining from his body, and with each exhale he melted closer to her. He held her flush against him as Tat-Face-Ivan and Frankie were read their Miranda rights. “It’s ok. I’m ok. It’s ok,” he repeated, though if he was trying to reassure her or himself, he couldn’t be positive.
Gary, in all his sweat and cigarette scented glory wrapped his arms around both of them. “Thank you Shane.” He wet kissed both of Shane’s cheeks before he could stop him. “I’ll bury him for both of us.”
“Easy, killer,” Shane laughed, clapping him on the back. “Prison is punishment enough. I don’t think it’s dawned on Frankie that his weekly pedicure won’t happen in jail.”
Frankie struggled against the officers, leaning back as far as he could to face Shane. “Shane, call our attorney. I can’t do prison. I’m not made for it. It was just show business. Stop pushing, just give me a minute.”
He switched tactics. “I’ll tell everyone what you can do. How you solve all the cases. You owe me, Shane Bolles. I’m going to get what I’m owed.”
Maria’s hand tightened in his as Gary stepped between Frankie and them. “Every prison, Frankie. I know someone in every prison. Not great for family reunions, but it sure does come in handy to have as many shady relatives as I do. You say a word about Shane, and I’ll make sure they find you.”
Frankie, for once in his life, appeared lost for words as the officer shut him inside the police car. Shane asked, “You going to be OK, Gary? Do you want to stay with us at my dad’s house?”
He ran his hand over his bald head, “Thanks, Shane, but I think I’m going to head to my mom’s house in Queens.” He smiled at Maria as he patted his pockets for his cigarettes. “No offense, but I think I’ve seen as much of this town as I ever want to.”
Gary followed an officer out the door as Madison clapped Shane on the back. “Want to tell me what that was all about?”
Shane flushed, “Ah, money? Frankie got upside down with a gang back in LA. That bled over to me.”
Madison didn’t blink. He just waited. “Uh-huh. And the rest? You want to explain what it is that your producer thinks you do to solve cases?”
Maria shouldered her way in front to stand between them, but Shane spoke before she could fire up a defense. “I don’t think you’d ever believe me, but I can promise you this. I’m done solving cases.” He pulled Maria flush against him, his chin on her shoulder. “Besides, you look to be doing a pretty good job without any of my involvement. Thank you.”
Madison just shook his head. “Thank Maria, had she not come to us when she did, we would have been too late.”
“I have every intention of thanking her thoroughly once we are alone,” Shane grunted as Maria’s elbow found his stomach.
“Fine. We’ll recap in the morning. You two go home,” Madison said, hugging Maria briefly and then turning to the other officers.
Shane and Maria climbed in the back of another cop car, his hand never leaving hers, as they called a relieved Emily and Brandon. They sat flush against each other in the back, the energy between them intensifying as he tried to follow the officer’s small talk. All he wanted now was to get Maria alone and have her hair fan out around them as he ran through every dirty thought he’d ever had about her. He palmed her thigh, pulling her closer. His thumb ran over the inseam of her jeans and he smiled when he realized she was gripping the edge of the seat. When the officer reached his dad’s gravel drive, he couldn’t wait any longer. He blurted, “This is good, officer. Thank you. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”
Maria cocked her head as he pulled her to the shed at the edge of the property a few yards from the mailbox. “Where are we going, Shane? Emily and Brandon will be waiting for us. They’re probably on the porch already.”
He pushed her against the back of the old wooden shed, pinning his arms on either side of her head and lined his body up close to hers. “That’s exactly why I needed to get you to the shed. It blocks the view and I don’t think I can take another moment without kissing you.”
She didn’t have time to respond as he cradled her head in his hands and finally, finally, kissed her. It was thorough and demanding, and an absolute tease because the more he kissed her the more he needed to kiss her. She gasped when he picked her up to get a better angle, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, alternatively digging her nails into his shoulders and back and gripping his hair.
She broke the kiss as he moved to her neck, “Shane. Your family is frantic, we have to go.”
“Uh-huh, we need to go.” It took a few more minutes though before he could pull himself away from her lips, and he reluctantly let her slide down his body to touch the ground. “OK. Give me a minute.”
Maria looked flushed, her lips puffy under the full moon from their kiss as she tried to right her riot of curls he’d mangled. When he felt in control of his mind again, he pulled her to him to walk down the long gravel drive.
“What now, Shane Bolles? Back to LA?” Maria asked as she kept her gaze ahead of her.
He bumped her shoulder with his, and kissed her hand intertwined with his own. “I have zero intention of moving back to LA, Maria. You are my home now. In fact, I have no intention of being away from you for more than the few hours necessary each day for us to make a living.”
She smiled wide, turning to him. “Oh is that right? And do I get a choice? What if I don’t want to date you?”
“Well then, you’re just going to have to kill me,” Shane said, grinning.
She punched his arm, “That’s not even remotely funny.” But she barked out the laugh he wanted to hear again and again as his dad’s porch light came into view.