Chapter 27
Lainie could hear the pain and fear in Ben’s voice when he had told her about the discovery of his partner’s vehicle.
It was a clear sign that Efren was dead.
He didn’t want to say it or think it, she bet, any more than she wanted to admit that Evie was gone.
The knowledge made Lainie feel connected to Ben.
In reality, they were both in the same place, both grieving a loss they couldn’t prove.
Pain would hit them both like a freight train when proof arrived, and Lainie dreaded that day.
“Why did they bring the car to Long Beach?” Lainie asked when they exited the car wash.
“It’s temporary, until it can be moved to our lab to be processed, though I doubt that will happen.”
“Why?”
“From the picture I saw, it was picked clean, like a body decimated by vultures. Maybe it was left in the desert to make sure any evidence was destroyed.”
She followed Ben to the impound lot. The tow yard was north of downtown, on the border with Signal Hill, on Willow Street. Years ago, when Lainie was a rookie, she’d worked many overtime shifts at the yard when there were lien sales. She knew the lot well.
Lainie considered the mystery of Efren’s disappearance as she drove. There were too many mysteries in her life at the moment. The biggest one she couldn’t solve blared in her mind ever since she’d learned who her brother-in-law worked for.
Why did everything in her life circle back to Dallas Vine?
In so many ways that traffic stop fifteen years ago had defined her career. It destroyed her faith in the system, and in part her faith in God. It shredded her idealism. It made her more cautious. The fact that now, so many years later, Vine could touch her life so destructively defied logic.
She hadn’t had a chance to process the loss of her sister when his evil name burst into the drama.
Everything here had to be connected—Ben’s partner’s disappearance, Evie’s disappearance, and the murder of Taylor Abbott.
For the life of her, Lainie couldn’t see how Stan fit in with all this.
She considered herself a good judge of character.
She missed the boat where Stan was concerned.
He was annoying, prideful, and always boasting about himself.
She never saw him as dangerous. It still rattled her brain that he worked for Vine.
Vine.
She would never stop wishing that they’d been able to convict him all those years ago.
After he sued her for harassment, Lainie had been ordered to stay away from him, and she followed orders.
She’d been forced to admit to herself that she had been obsessed and the obsession was not affecting him; it was only affecting her, and in a negative way.
So she backed off, but she never stopped paying attention to what he was doing.
Every time he came under the scrutiny of law enforcement, she prayed that he’d finally receive the justice he deserved.
He always evaded a conviction, and she hated to admit it, but he did appear to be bulletproof.
At one point she wondered if he would get so cocky that he’d slip up.
But he never did. As far as Lainie was concerned, Vine figured into everything evil in the city of Long Beach.
Lainie couldn’t separate Vine from Stan now even if it only came down to Stan having an affair and killing Evie to be free for his girlfriend.
Vine had to be mixed up in it somewhere.
Lainie parked next to Ben and climbed out of her car. The loud whine of a motorcycle caught her attention, and she watched a bike zip by on Willow Street. Never a cop around when you needed one, she thought.
Together she and Ben approached the gate.
The yard had always been gated, but now it was a fortress.
Black metal slats had been woven into the chain-link fence, and a person had to be buzzed into the lot after speaking into an intercom at the entrance.
The gate that opened to let vehicles in was several inches thick and topped with razor wire.
Cameras were also set up all over the place.
All the security had been installed because of the rise in catalytic converter thefts.
One night before all the precautions were in place, someone had climbed the fence and stolen six converters.
Lainie pushed the intercom button. “Hey, anyone in there awake? Or are you all snoring?”
It took a second for anyone to respond. “Only one copper thinks she’s funny with a line like that. Come on in, Detective Jensen.”
The buzzer sounded as the lock disengaged. Mel, the impound lot supervisor, met them once they stepped inside the yard.
Mel held out his hand. “Long time no see.”
Lainie gripped his hand. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time for overtime shifts anymore.” She indicated Ben. “This is FBI Agent Ben Isaacs. You have a car the Feds brought in.”
“If you want to call it a car. The mess you want is off to the right, in the back in section A-8. Can’t miss it. Almost looks as if it was cut apart by the fire department.” He pointed.
“Thank you, Mel.”
She and Ben walked in the direction Mel had pointed.
“Sounds like whoever had the car was searching for something,” Lainie said as she and Ben made their way through the lot. “Just like in Stan’s office.”
He nodded. “It might have something to do with Efren’s job.
He oversaw Vine’s fleet of cars. Please keep this to yourself, but he found evidence that Vine secrets things into cars: money, instructions, et cetera, all designed to further his criminal endeavors.
The only thing Efren didn’t find was solid evidence, but he kept after it.
My fear is Vine found out Efren was asking questions, and that blew his cover. ”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Loose armrests and door panels. And some coded notes. Vine uses a complicated code for money drops and trafficking exchange arrangements. We can’t figure it out.
Efren had found a note hidden in the headliner of one of Vine’s SUVs.
It makes no sense to us. We need more information to break the code. We were hoping he could find more.”
They made it to the wreckage of Efren’s SUV, at least Lainie thought it was an SUV. It was hard to tell.
Ben stared at the wreck, hands on his hips. “Wow, it does look as if they used the Jaws of Life on this thing. The only way the local cops knew it was Efren’s was by the VIN.”
“What kind of car was it?”
“Chevy Blazer.” He walked around it. It was encircled by crime scene tape.
“I can see why FBI technicians would be reluctant to take this wreck,” Lainie said.
“Yeah. The agent in Joshua Tree didn’t think they’d find anything. Besides being destroyed, it was exposed to the elements for a couple of days.”
The chassis had been stripped, then cut almost completely in half.
Tires were gone. The interior had been removed, even the steering wheel.
All that was left was the bare steering column.
To Lainie it seemed as if someone had even peeled back small pieces of metal or aluminum, as if searching to see if something was underneath.
“Where would Efren leave you a message if he had a chance to do so?”
Ben bent down near the driver’s side window, about where the windshield VIN number would be. His brows creased. “There’s something else going on here.”
“What do you mean?”
“On the surface it appears as if someone was searching for something, but it’s just overkill.”
“Trying to send a message?”
“Maybe. But if it is, I’m too obtuse to understand all of it. If Efren is dead, where is he?”
“I ask that same question about Evie.”
He turned to face her, the frown eased and understanding filled his eyes. “I know you do. This certainly can’t help you any more than it helps me.”
“It keeps my mind occupied.” She turned away and her foot caught on part of the metal frame, causing her to stumble. As she did, something whistled by her ear, slamming into the frame with a solid thunk.
Two more zinged by as it registered—someone was shooting at her.
“Get down!” Ben yelled and lurched toward her.
Lainie didn’t need further encouragement. The shots came from her right. She rolled left and scooted behind a derelict pickup truck, rolling against Ben as she did so. There were more pings as more shots hit the truck and puffs of dust where bullets hit the dirt.
Ben made his way toward her, gun drawn. “Can you tell where the shooter is?”
“North corner of the yard, in the alley.”
The impound yard was an uneven, triangular-shaped lot.
On the long side it abutted a dead-end alley.
Lainie whipped her fanny pack around to the front as she searched for a muzzle flash, but it was broad daylight.
She doubted she’d be able to detect it. More puffs of dirt bloomed as bullets hit very close to her.
Unzipping her pack, she drew her own gun and then scooted forward.
“There.” Ben raised up behind her. He now had a better vantage point than she did. He fired a burst of four shots.
The yard was quiet. If she had a target, she would take a shot. “Do you think you hit him?”
“It would be pure luck if I did. I see a motorcycle helmet peeking over the fence. He must be standing on something on the other side. What’s over there?”
“Just the alley.”
“Whoever is out there knows we are not unarmed.” He inched his head up, gaze directed toward where Lainie believed the shooter was.
Shouts came from the direction of the tow yard office. Then Lainie’s phone rang.
It was Mel. “Who is out there shooting?”
“Someone at the north end of the lot, in the alley. Call 911 and stay inside the office.”
“We called 911. Are you okay?”
She was about to tell Mel to advise police to approach on Redondo Avenue. The alley opened onto that street; it would be the shooter’s only escape route.
Two more shots pinged the car frame. One came so close to Lainie that she dropped her phone. She drew herself back when Ben grunted in pain. He dropped his gun and fell backward.