Chapter Thirty-Five
Walter Zegda had brought up a hit team of Disciples affiliates from the Bay Area.
Derek Baines, the only survivor of the failed raid, limped through the woods as fast as his wounds let him.
Every few steps, he looked over his shoulder to make sure that Castor wasn’t tracking him.
He didn’t breathe easily until he was on the road with no Harley in sight.
When he thought he was safe, he pulled into a side road and examined his wounds.
A piece of wood had lacerated his leg and another had cut a groove through his cheek, but the wounds were superficial.
There was a first aid kit in the car, and he dressed the wounds. Then he made the call he was dreading.
“It was a clusterfuck. Castor ambushed us. I’m the only one who made it out alive, and I got hit too.”
“I can’t believe you screwed this up,” said Zegda. “There were four of you.”
“Now there’s only me, Walt. We lost some good men.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m headed home, but I wanted to let you know what happened.”
“I appreciate that, but I have one more job for you.”
“No, I’m out of here.”
“I’ll pay triple what I paid for Castor.”
There was dead air for a minute. “What’s the job?”
“It’s an attorney, and I need her dead before Castor can get to her. If you bag Castor too, I’ll pay triple for both.”
Karen called Morris Johnson as soon as Castor ended his call. Fifteen minutes later, he joined her in the lobby of the condo building.
“We need to get Castor someplace safe,” Karen said. “I have a private jet waiting, and our security people are sending over a team to protect him.”
“Good move. It would be too risky for Castor to fly commercial.”
“What about Nikki Randolph?” Karen asked.
“Let’s wait to see what Castor wants to do.”
Fifteen minutes later, Karen and Morris saw Ray’s Harley stop at the curb. They opened the door to the building and walked outside. Ray dismounted and walked toward them just as a car drove by at a slow speed.
“Gun!” Morris shouted as he pulled out his weapon.
Ray turned toward the street, and Derek Baines shot him.
He fell on the sidewalk as Baines shifted his aim toward Karen.
Morris opened fire, and Baines jerked his hand.
The shot tore through the flesh in Karen’s arm.
Morris knocked her to the ground and sprayed Baines’s car with bullets.
As Baines sped away, Johnson memorized the number on his license plate.
“Are you hurt?” Morris asked.
“Don’t worry about me. Check Castor. Get the name.”
Morris ran to Ray. His breathing was ragged, and his eyes were closing.
Karen saw Morris put his ear next to Castor’s mouth as he said something.
Then Morris sat back, and Ray stopped moving.
Karen pressed a hand over her arm. Blood seeped through the rip in her jacket where the bullet had torn it.
She ignored the pain and walked to her investigator.
“Did you get the name?” Karen asked.
Morris shook his head.
“He said something,” Karen insisted. “What did he say?”
Morris turned toward her. His adrenaline had worn off, and he looked exhausted.
“I asked him for the name of the DA and he said, ‘Starlight.’”
“Starlight? That’s not a name.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Do you think Nikki Randolph would know what he meant?”
“I can ask her.”
Karen was lost in thought for a moment.
“Randolph is going to be very upset when she finds out that Castor is dead. There’s a good chance that she’ll blame me. We should give her an incentive to talk to you.”
Muriel Lujack had lost a four-day trial.
The judge had ordered a dinner break, and the jury didn’t render its verdict until a little after eight.
By the time she dragged herself into her bedroom, it was almost eleven.
She was exhausted, but she couldn’t sleep, because she kept replaying the trial in her head, searching for the moment it had gone wrong.
By the time her brain finally ran out of gas, it was a new day.
Muriel overslept and didn’t get up until eight. She showered before consuming a breakfast of toast and coffee while she read the news on her phone. She froze when she saw the headline. Then she scrolled down to the story about the shoot-out at Karen Wyatt’s condo.
When she’d turned on her phone, she’d noticed that she had a voicemail. It was from Wyatt. She called immediately.
“Are you okay?” Muriel asked as soon as Karen answered. “The news feed said you were wounded.”
“A bullet grazed my arm. It hurts, but there’s no real damage.”
“Why did you call me? I’d have thought there were a lot of other things you’d be doing.”
“There are a million things. I’m on my way to police headquarters to give a statement. But something happened that you might be able to help me with.”
“Shoot.”
“That’s a poor choice of words, given what happened.”
“Sorry. So, how can I help?”
“You know Raymond Castor was killed at my condo?”
“Yes.”
“He was going to tell me the name of the DA in your office who is working with the Disciples. When he was shot, Morris Johnson, my investigator, asked him for the name. He died before he could tell it, but he did say something, and we can’t figure out what it means.
I was hoping you might be able to solve the mystery. ”
“What did he say?”
“Starlight.”
“What?”
“Starlight.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“There’s no DA with that name?”
“Not even close.”
“Okay. Thanks. Think about it, and call me if you come up with something.”
Muriel ended the call. Starlight. She rolled the word over in her head as she finished her breakfast, but she still had no idea what it meant when she left for work.