Dressed in White Read online

It nearly knocks me out. I can’t think. My mind won’t focus. I can’t feel anything. I’m blacking out.

  “Wake up, stupid,” his voice is shouting at me. He shakes me like a rag.

  They turn on the overhead ceiling light. I recognize the two debt-collectors. These were the men in the elevator.

  “She remembers us.”

  “Doesn’t matter. She won’t say nothing to no one if she knows what’s good for her,” he hisses.

  Nikki is sitting on the bed next to me. We’re both at the foot of the bed, facing the two standing men.

  “What are you going to do to us?” Nikki whispers.

  Damn it. I hate it when victims ask that. It puts you in such a vulnerable position. The asshole has all the power. He will lord it over us now.

  “What do you think?” He’s toying with her.

  She doesn’t reply.

  “I asked you a question,” he bellows, leaning down to her face. He grabs her hair and gives it a yank.

  “She doesn’t know anything.” I shout at him.

  “No, but you do!”

  “I don’t. Check my phone. See the text. I said I don’t know anything, and I’m not going to help them.”

  The one big guy looks at the other. “You’d better be right,” he snaps.

  I have to provide my thumb print to unlock it. He scrolls to Alyssa’s text. He’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah, it looks that way.”

  “So you’re telling the truth...”

  Whew.

  “But we always leave a reminder not to fuck with us. Don’t we?” he looks at his friend and smiles.

  My body goes cold. A chill washes over me like a violent wave.

  “I’m generous. I’ll let you choose between a broken kneecap, or an elbow—we like joints.”

  I can’t even get away. They’re standing two feet from me. I can’t kick him in the groin—I don’t have leverage. Hell. What can I do?

  “Answer me!” He leans down and slaps Nikki, causing her to fly backward.

  I react instantly. We’re both going to die, or be badly hurt, so there’s no point making it easy for them. I go for the big one in front of me. I leap to my feet. I ram my first and second fingers into his left eye and try to scoop it out. I feel the warm, moist eyeball breaking free.

  A gunshot shocks me into inaction. Suddenly, he twists me around, and throws his massive arm around my neck. His hand is holding a knife, cutting into the skin under my chin.

  “Drop the knife,” Quinn hisses. He’s standing in the doorway with a .45. He looks completely in control. But his weapon is aimed at me.

  My eyes focus on him. He isn’t looking at me. His concentration is on the man behind me.

  “She dies,” the goon shouts.

  “The second she does—you do. You’ll regret being born.”

  I feel the blade poke in. There’s pain. I remember I can suddenly drop. If it’s unexpected enough, I may get out of the path of the bullet. But it has to be fast, without telegraphing my plan.

  I suddenly bend my knees and let myself fall. I only get a few inches before I hear the second shot.

  His body jerks, pulling me backward. The floor comes fast and hard. My ears are ringing. His arm lets go of my neck. The knife drops away.

  Quinn is pulling me away from the goon, dragging me to my feet. He doesn’t say anything as he walks me toward Nikki. She’s sitting on the bed, hunched over, hugging herself. The other man is at her feet, not moving.

  “Come on, Nikki,” he scoops her up with his other arm, moving us into the living room.

  “Are there any other suspects?”

  “Not that I know of,” I reply.

  Nikki isn’t speaking.

  “I’ll be right back. Don’t shoot me.”

  He pulls out his cell and phones 911. I hear him outside as he’s looking around. He turned off the porch light, to help his night vision. He comes back in, going to my room, turning off the overhead light.

  He returns to sit between us. “The police will arrive in a few minutes. Are you alright in the dark?” He wraps his arm around me.

  I answer a quiet, “Yes, the darkness is a friend.” But that’s all I can say.

  Nikki is numb. He lightens his hold on me to lean over and pull her to him for security. He says something to her, then I hear murmuring from each of them. I lean a bit closer to his warmth. I’m in a t-shirt and undies and feeling chilled to the bone. My mind has stopped. I only see the scene playing out, over and over.

  Headlights shine in the window. Cars are at the end of the gravel driveway. Quinn’s phone rings. It’s the responding Sergeant. I hear them requesting we come outside, unarmed.

  “I’ll be in the middle, a male Hispanic, 5’11, 185 age 35. I’m wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. There are two women with me.”

  “Come on, girls, we’re going outside.” He gets ready to stand, moving us to our feet, and then toward the front door.

  “Put your hands up,” comes a shout.

  We comply and wait for the officers to come forward. While one searches, the others have their weapons drawn and pointed at us. Quinn is searched first. “Where’s your weapon?”

  “It’s in the living room, just inside the door.”

  Nikki and I aren’t searched, since they recognize us. I don’t see which deputies are here, since we’re in their headlights, and they’re concealed.

  “Ladies, I’m sorry about this. Come on through.” We’re waved toward them.

  “Who is in the house?”

  Quinn answers. “Two deceased males in the master bedroom to the right of the main living area.”

  “Where are their weapons?”

  “I only saw one. I left it inside the front door with my .45.”

  “My .38 is in my running shoe at the foot of the bed.” I speak up.

  “With the suspects?” One of the deputies asks.

  Quinn answers before I get a chance. “They won’t be using her weapon.” He steps closer and puts his arm around me.

  I’m coming back to normal. I’d like a jacket and pants, or something to cover my bare legs. The air is a chilly 50°.

  The deputies form an entry team. Their headlights are turned off, so as not to illuminate them. Quinn is watching with interest, but I tug him and Nikki to the engine of the patrol car. It’s wonderfully warm when I lean against it. It’s been driving all night and idling for the past few minutes.

  I’m too overwhelmed to care how they tactically enter the house. Several go to the front door, and the back of the house. Flashlight beams flash around for several minutes. I see them checking the master bedroom through the gap in the curtains. They’re moving through the living room to Nikki’s room on the other side of the house.

  One stops to look at Quinn’s weapon at the door. He picks it up and strides out of the house. Another deputy grabbed a couple of blankets on his way out. He is silhouetted by the interior lights.

  Coming down to the cars, I see it’s Ken. He comes over to Nikki and me with his gift of warmth. We each wrap ourselves in fleece.

  He looks at Quinn with his arms still around both of us. He is squinting his eyes, wondering.

  The sergeant approaches us, and the questioning begins.

  It starts with, “Who are those guys and what did they do.”

  Quinn squeezes my shoulder as a signal, so I begin with a brief summary of following a man named Tony, which led to meeting the two suspects in the casino elevator. I go on to explain that I was waiting for Quinn, and they came in the unlocked front door. They first went to Nikki’s room, then came to mine. I briefly recount the climactic events.

  I’m not going into deep detail, because that’s what the homicide detective is for. I’m sure he’s already on his way.

  I see a deputy with a crime scene log. He’s getting the names and unit number of the deputies on scene. Some of them leave after talking about what they would have done in our situation.

  Ken nods at me, “Jess, are you alright
?”

  “I guess so. Thanks.” I’m leaning against the car, still absorbing its heat. Quinn puts his arm back around me, sending a signal to the other man.

  I see it’s understood.

  “You have her tonight,” he nods at Quinn, then me, and walks toward his unit.

  “Old flame?”

  “It never burned too bright,” I hold him tight. He has nothing to worry about.

  21

  Detective Kay

  By 0300 hours Detective Kay has examined the house, the suspect’s car, and the entire scene. The CSI team is probably scouring the rooms, with cameras, print powder, and evidence bags. They’ve already patted our hands for gunshot residue and sealed the answer in little jars. Since a shooting was involved, it means there’s more evidence collection.

  He comes down to speak with us at the barn. I’m warmly dressed now, having dug around in my horse trailer for shoes, jeans and more clothing. Nikki is in my too-large clothes and shoes. We’re finally warm.

  An officer has been sitting with us. We aren’t allowed to speak about the incident. They don’t want us comparing and adjusting our stories. At least we’re not in individual interview rooms. I’d hate to be treated like a suspect.

  The three of us are at the big table just inside the wide, sliding barn doors. The deputy is standing guard. At least the lights are on, making it look like a friendly barn, as it always does. I suppose that’s a small comfort. Quinn is sitting next to me with his hand on my leg. Nikki is on the other side. We haven’t been saying anything. We don’t have the energy for small talk, and we can’t say anything meaningful.

  “Hello Jessica. You’re up to your neck in shit again, I see.” Those are his first words to me.

  “Yeah, I’m afraid so.” That’s all I say until I know what kind of mood he’s in. He can be temperamental, though he was friendly the last time I saw him. He’s something of an old-school cop who doesn’t believe women belong on the police department. I’ve proved him wrong, several times. I wonder if he remembers adjusting his thinking.

  He has Nikki move a few yards away from us, “Please tell me what you first remember.”

  “I was reading in bed when the two men burst through my door.” She stops and looks scattered.

  “Was the light on?” he prompts.

  “Yes.”

  “That may explain why they went to your room first. They probably saw it under the door.” He makes a note. “Did they say anything?”

  “No—not then.”

  She’s stuck again.

  “When did they say something?” Det. Kay softens his tone.

  She looks at me and speaks louder, “I feel awful. I told them. I’m sorry Jess. They said ‘Where is she?’ and I told them.”

  I shout back, getting a scowl from the Detective. “That’s Ok, they would have found me anyhow.”

  “Did they do anything to you?”

  “The big one had a knife. He was leaning over me, right in my face,” she stops speaking for several moments.

  “And?” he gently prompts.

  “He told me to be quiet and jerked me out of bed by my arm. The shorter guy led the way and kicked in Jessica’s door.”

  The detective gives her a break, and has me change places with her for questioning.

  “What is the first thing you were aware of?”

  I tell him about hearing a tread on the porch and thinking it was Quinn. I stop my explanation at the part where the three of us left the bedroom. I’m allowed to return to the table. My guilt is building. “If I hadn’t investigated Tony, they would never have followed me home.”

  Quinn speaks up, “Don’t blame yourself—don’t go down that road.” He squeezes my leg gently, and I see the compassion in his eyes. At least he isn’t holding me responsible. But I don’t know if Nikki will recover.

  “Well, Mr. Morrow, it’s your turn.” He moves a few feet away, but I hear his voice clearly.

  Quinn begins by asking him to contact the Sheriff of the Santa Barbara County, the head man himself, to verify his own position in law enforcement. Next, he advises him that he has been working with several agencies to close a case. He doesn’t carry any identification under his real name, nor does he show a permit for the .45. Again, please contact the sheriff.

  “Yes, I will. Please continue.”

  “I was on my way to Stockton for a week, but stopped here to see Jess. We had discussed this previously, and she advised me she would leave the front door unlocked. When I rounded the driveway by the barn, I saw a car in front of the house that I was unfamiliar with. Jess would have told me if anyone else was here.”

  Wow, he knows I’d have told him. That already shows confidence in me.

  “I turned off my car and approached inconspicuously. I carried my .45 with me.”

  “You snuck up to the house?” Kay rephrases.

  “Yes. I saw a flashlight in the master bedroom and heard raised voices. Looking through the gap in the curtains, I saw two suspects. The largest was standing in front of Jessica with a knife in his hand. The smaller was grasping Nikki by the neck.”

  He takes a breath to center himself, then continues.

  “The front door was ajar. I carefully pushed it open and looked around for other suspects. I didn’t see any. I took a few steps in, so I could see straight into the bedroom. The overhead light was on. I saw the smaller suspect backhand Nikki, and she tumbled over. He pulled her up and shoved a knife in her face. I shot him once in the head, to save her life. It was my belief he was going to kill her, or cause great bodily harm.”

  He takes a moment.

  “Jessica was fighting with the big suspect. As soon as they heard the shot, Jess stopped fighting. The suspect made eye contact with me and grabbed her by the neck. He produced a knife and held it to the left side of her throat. He shouted that he’d kill her. I told him to drop the knife. He failed to do so after considering my order. Jessica dropped to the floor, as trained to do in this circumstance. At that time, I had a clear shot, and took it. I shot him once in the head. It circumvented the probability of a hostage situation, and him killing her.”

  Damn, so that’s what happened. If he hadn’t come by… Oh hell, it would have been bad.

  The detective asks a few more questions, and that’s it for now. “I’ll get in touch with my boss,” he looks at his watch, “When he wakes up. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “I have to be in Stockton by 10 AM. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind calling the DEA, San Francisco Division, Special Agent in Charge. He will verify my credentials. He won’t mind being woken for this. They’re expecting my prompt arrival.”

  “Alright. Stand by,” he steps away from the table and out of the barn.

  Quinn leans in and softly kisses me. “There, now you know about me.”

  “I’m glad you stopped by. I’m not sure it would have ended so well if you hadn’t.”

  He nods and looks worried.

  While he’s watching me, I flash a look at Nikki. He follows my look. She’s sitting huddled.

  I’d love to stay with his warmth and presence, but I think she needs help. I go sit next to her on the opposite side of the table.

  “Who can I call for you?”

  “I have no one. My parents are gone. My husband is in prison for kidnapping. I wouldn’t call him if he was the last man on earth.” She takes a haggard breath. “I refuse to go back in there. It has bad vibes. I tried to live with it, but not after this.”

  “I don’t blame you. Do you want to stay in town? How about if I call Monica, maybe you can stay with her for a few days?”

  “She’s married now.”

  “She has a guest room. She’s a good friend. We’d do it for her, she’ll do it for you.” I pick up her cold hand from her lap. “Plus, Charlie is our vet. He won’t mind, either.”

  She doesn’t say anything. But I think this is the best plan for the next few days. I’m not sure what I’ll do. I don’t relish going back inside, either. But slee
ping in my horse trailer’s dressing room doesn’t thrill me. I did that several months ago, when I first arrived. Now I have enough income to have a real bed.

  Quinn catches my eye. He stands and asks the deputy if he and I can have a word alone.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t let you. You’ll need to ask the detective.”

  “Fine.” He sighs and has a seat on the bench with Nikki and me. “Let me in.”

  Nikki and I move over. He has his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close, holding tight. “You’re doing a great job holding up, but do you want to stay at my place in Lompoc?”

  “I don’t want to compromise your cover. I won’t blend in with my truck. I have to be here to feed the horses twice a day, anyway. I’ll figure out something—or maybe not. Do you have another idea?”

  “I’d take you with me for the week, but that’s not a good idea.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll ask Monica if I can crash there too. I have a sleeping bag. I don’t want to be here alone. It creeps me out, it’s so desolate.” I snuggle closer. “This time it’s hitting me harder. The thought of everyone driving away and leaving me alone—it’s not working.”

  “Who owns the place?”

  “A Frenchwoman named Jacqueline-Noelle. She’s in France at the moment. Nikki used to own it with her soon to be ex-husband. They sold the ranch when it was discovered he embezzled an account. I had a hand in her finding that out. Anyhow, I’m renting a room here.”

  “You shouldn’t stay out here,” Nikki speaks up.

  “Yeah, I’ll ask Monica if I can sleep on the couch, or something.”

  “I don’t think I ever want to return,” she murmurs.

  I don’t bother trying to dissuade her. It’s too soon for that. “I’m thinking the same thing.”

  Det. Kay returns, looking irked. “The DEA verified your position. You’re free to go. But make contact with me every two days. I may need additional information,” he lectures him like it was a personal affront.

  “You ladies can get a few things. I’ll escort you. It’s still a crime scene. But I will allow you to get something to wear.”

  “Mr. Morrow, I need to book your weapon into evidence until ballistics shows a match on the rifling. I understand you’d like to keep it, but my hands are tied,” he doesn’t sound too upset.