Chapter 3
Anger.
Obsession.
Fixation.
Axe to grind.
Those had been some of the things said about Lainie after Vine escaped being charged with murder and was released.
They were all true back then, and it not only almost destroyed her career, but it also nearly destroyed Lainie.
The city took a dim view of a rookie cop costing them money because someone like Vine filed a harassment lawsuit.
Thankfully, the chief had recognized that her hard work had dulled, if not erased, the dark-black mark on her career.
That she’d made it to detective status was evidence that she had succeeded.
Hard work made up for a rookie lapse in judgment.
It was late. At home, she still brooded.
She sat at her desk and rummaged through the top drawer.
Near the back, she found the photo and pulled it out.
It was a picture of Daphne Sparks, the woman she’d found dead in the back of Dallas Vine’s vehicle.
Memories of that night were still vivid and came to life in her mind.
Vine had thoroughly unsettled her. An aura of evil surrounded him.
They had almost reached the station when he’d spoken up from the back seat. “You’re making a mistake.”
He’d barely said anything since the arrest. The only other words he’d uttered were when he refused to take a Breathalyzer test. Lainie had to take him to the hospital and have his blood drawn.
By then, he was stiff and uncooperative.
It surprised her when he sat quietly for the blood draw.
Lainie wanted to advise him of his rights and question him, but the homicide detective on call had asked her not to. That was their job.
Lainie aspired to work homicide one day, so she followed their instructions. Vine had spoken first, so she answered him.
“I don’t think so. You’re drunk, you’re driving, and you’re carrying a concealed weapon, among other things.”
“I’m so much bigger than you know. You’re too small and insignificant to stop me.”
“That so?” She glanced at him in the rearview mirror as she made the turn to the booking tunnel.
His gaze pierced her with a cold, deadly stare. The stony gray eyes and the jagged scar on his cheek made his mere appearance malevolent. He gave her the creeps. All of her instincts screamed that he had murdered the woman in his back seat. She prayed that he’d volunteer something incriminating.
The prayer was not answered.
“I’m bulletproof” was the last thing the smirking man said when she released Vine to the jailers.
At the station Lainie learned a little bit more about him.
“Whoa.” The booking sergeant stared down at Vine on the bench when Lainie brought him in. “I know this guy.”
Vine scowled at him and cursed, then spit on the floor.
The sergeant chuckled. “This guy was in a vicious bar fight a few years ago, over a woman if I remember right. Cut the other guy up so bad he bled to death. Then he gave a sob story at his trial, kept his scar uncovered, and gave the jury puppy dog eyes. Got acquitted.” The sergeant turned from Lainie back to Vine.
“I knew you’d be back. Hope it sticks this time. ”
That night, Vine didn’t speak to the homicide detectives either. Then he avoided being charged with anything serious. He pled guilty to two misdemeanors, paid a fine, and did forty hours of community service.
The murder of Daphne Sparks had never been solved. It was now in the cold case file.
Lainie had taken that miscarriage of justice personally. She tried hard to solve the case. It took nearly two years for Vine’s plea agreement to make its way through the system. When it did, Vine was free and clear.
She couldn’t let that stand, so she began to follow him.
Her off time was consumed with trying to prove that the man had killed Sparks.
He lived in a big house on Appian Way, in the Naples section of Long Beach, on the water with a dock for his yacht.
She was down there often, documenting the comings and goings.
He also had a cigar lounge on Pine Street and an office at the harbor for a time.
She visited those locations often as well.
Like an addict, even when she was told to back off, Lainie kept after Vine.
In hindsight, she realized she was acting on raw emotion and not thinking clearly.
When the lawsuit came, even though the attorneys negotiated a settlement, it was only her friend and training officer Max Beck that saved her. He stuck up for her to all the brass.
Max had always told Lainie she had promise.
“You’re a good cop. Vine is a dirtbag. He’ll go down because of good, solid police work; they always do. Don’t let him goad you into destroying your career, clear?”
She had listened to Max, and so had internal affairs. Over the years she had watched the Vine crime empire grow, paying passing attention, but kept her distance. He’d been indicted twice more only to be acquitted both times.
She studied the photo of Daphne Sparks, a smiling, bright, attractive woman.
When Lainie had first glimpsed her in the back of the car, blonde hair splayed across the seat around her head like a halo, she looked unreal, like a mannequin.
It wasn’t the first dead body Lainie had seen, but it had a profound effect on her.
Daphne appeared defenseless, innocent, and she was young, very close to Lainie’s twenty-two years.
Later, when Lainie had read about Daphne’s mother, her heart broke for the woman. A picture popped into her mind of Daphne’s mother at the funeral. Losing her daughter had destroyed her. Two months later she had a stroke and died. In Lainie’s eyes, Vine was responsible for both deaths.
She wanted so badly to put the killer behind bars. She’d learned so much since then. How she wished she could apply her knowledge to arresting that man and making it stick. Today it seemed as if she’d been given another chance.
And Ben Isaacs had stopped her.
Frustration twisted her gut into knots, and for some reason Lainie thought about texting Glen.
He was a man she’d flirted with in the past, dancing up to the line but not crossing it because he was married.
It was such a non sequitur she let out a burst of nervous laughter.
The only good thing about Glen was that he would let her vent.
He was good at listening. No matter how bad things got, there was no excuse to call Glen.
She fiddled with her phone and saw that her sister, Evie, had called earlier. She hadn’t left a voicemail.
Groaning, Lainie put the phone down. The last thing she needed tonight was a lecture from her sister about how Lainie should be back in church.
Evie was the oldest and the perfect child. She led worship at church, had a voice like an angel. Their brother Archie was the youngest, and while he’d struggled in high school, he’d eventually found his path as a youth pastor and was now on track to get a master’s degree in theology.
Lainie was the middle child and now a decorated violent crimes investigator.
While her siblings embraced church life, she’d become a Chreaster, a person who only attended church at Christmas and Easter.
Lainie liked to tell people that she’d flown under the radar all her life.
Evie got all the accolades and Archie got all the lectures. Nothing was left for Lainie.
She got ready for bed as the oppressive feeling of guilt settled down on her like a shade. Lainie had been raised in the church. When she was a new officer, she’d stayed involved with her fellowship. She’d taught Sunday school, attended prayer meetings and a Bible study for police officers.
The incident with Vine infected Lainie with a bitterness that ate at her soul.
Cynicism colored everything. Christian activities seemed less important, useless even.
She had been content to use work as an excuse to avoid church and Bible study.
Her schedule would change, and she’d drop out, try to find something else, then her schedule would change again.
She gave up trying to find the time to attend church activities and, finally, gave up regular attendance as well.
Police work was important, and even more so because of the memory of Jaycee, Lainie knew that she’d need to clean up her act if she ever wanted to move to homicide.
Because homicide handled kidnappings. She needed to be dedicated to police work, and she had been.
Two years in a row she’d been named investigator of the year by the California Peace Officers’ Association.
Training to be the best cop became her church.
She was a master at weaponless defense and a marksman who’d won several statewide shooting competitions.
Lainie wanted her work to shine so when an opening came up in homicide, the spot would be hers and nothing in her past would keep her from it.
She’d eventually put her cuffs on him again and it would stick.
No one was bulletproof.