Nightcrawler (Trackers #1)

Chapter Twenty-One

MIGUEL

Brian Murphy was seated behind his desk in his cramped office eating a sandwich when the four of us entered. Jarrett and Thayne promised to be only a phone call away if anything jumped off and they were needed this afternoon. As the parole officer looked up, holding his sandwich with a smear of grease on his lips, he frowned.

“Who’re you?”

His shirt was dotted with mayonnaise and mustard as well as a spot of ketchup. He was in his mid-forties, bald, obese, and wore thick glasses which appeared to be steamy from the effort it took to consume the dripping half of a Subway sandwich he held. He set it down on the greasy wrapper which was open on an equally disgusting desk piled high with folders and papers which stuck out everywhere next to an ancient, brown push button phone as well as a cell phone. The brown carpet and the graying walls in the tiny office lent an air of exhaustion to the whole environment, matching the owner of the office who looked as rung out and harried as any man I’d ever laid eyes on.

Cassidy pulled aside his coat to show the detective’s badge clipped to it and Mike did the same. “My name is Detective Cassidy Ryan from the Brentwood division of the LAPD. You’re Brian Murphy, Brent Allcott’s parole officer?”

“That’s me.” He peered around Cassidy at Raven and me who stood back slightly since there wasn’t much room in front of the desk. The office stank of onions and peppers and was piled high with boxes exploding with more files. “Who’re you?”

“Miguel Huerta, licensed recovery agent, and Raven Mathis,” I said, producing my identification, as did Raven.

“Bounty hunters,” Murphy said, sounding like he’d just bitten into a lemon. “You’re here about Brent Allcott. He’s not a fugitive.”

“As I explained to you on the phone, we’re looking for a fugitive Allcott’s been associated with in the past, Connor Ray Howell Jr.,” I said. “He’s the man I’ve been hunting.”

“Don’t know ‘im,” Murphy said, picking up his sandwich and taking an enormous bite. Mayo and mustard slid out and landed on his shirt and he looked down as he chewed, cursing and reaching for an already soaked napkin. He wiped at the spots, leaving a greasy stain in the napkin’s wake.

“We’d like to talk to Allcott to see if he’s had any contact with him,” Mike said, “as my partner told you on the phone.”

“That would violate Allcott’s parole. He’s not allowed to associate with another ex-con.”

Cassidy practically growled, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “I’m aware of the law, Mr. Murphy,” he said with great restraint in his voice. “Nevertheless, we’d like to talk to your parolee as long as that’s not a problem for you.”

Murphy stuffed the remainder of his greasy sandwich in his mouth and spoke around the large bite as crumbs flew out on the desk. “Fine with me.”

He reached over and grabbed a file, leaving a smear on the folder before moving it aside and then digging with both hands as he shuffled files. I was getting sick from the smell of onions, stale sweat, and unwashed man in the tiny office, but I waited patiently as Raven practically vibrated with anticipation of Murphy locating what he was searching for. When he finally extracted a file a minute later, he tossed it across the desk. Papers slid out but Cassidy caught them before they hit the ground. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.

The three of us crowded around Cassidy as he flipped open the file to show a picture of a grimy, older biker type. He had a grizzled beard and looked meaty, as though he was both unwashed and heavy set. He wore a bandana with a large Deadhead skull patch on the front of it. I found that amusing, not associating bikers with being followers of the Grateful Dead but going with it for the moment.

I quickly scanned his criminal rap sheet. His past crimes which were mostly associated with a criminal biker gang, known to sell and distribute methamphetamine out in the Inland Empire in a small semi-rural town called Upland where he’d made his home. I got a sick feeling in my stomach, knowing that I didn’t want to walk into a situation with a biker gang if it turned out Howell was stashing himself there while on the run.

“Biker huh ?”

“Yeah, Allcott is a white supremacist who had a loose association with the Hells Angels back in the day, but he doesn’t hang with those guys or any biker gang at the moment. Strangely, he’s gotten into selling collectible memorabilia at antique shows,” Murphy said. “In addition, he holds down a job as a custodian at the Reseda Baptist Church on Sherman Way. That’s a Monday through Friday gig, but his weekends are his own. On the weekends you’ll find him at various antique shows around the southland.”

I looked up at Murphy from the pages Cassidy was flipping in the file. “Do you know where he’s scheduled this weekend?”

“Not a clue,” Murphy said, leaning back in his chair.

I ground my teeth together. “Take a guess.”

He eyeballed me for a minute and then reached over, opening a desk drawer which was filled with more paper and produced a business card, tossing it across the desk. Mike picked it up. “He gave me that,” he said, chuckling. “The guy’s a huge Deadhead. That’s what he sells, Grateful Dead memorabilia and I guess shit from other bands, even that fairy band.”

“Fairy band?” Raven asked. I could feel the anger coming off him in waves.

Murphy held out his hand and then did a limp wrist. “Yeah, fairy band. You know…” He tapped his chin as he looked up at the ceiling before snapping his fingers. “Queen…named after that fairy, Freddie something.”

“Mercury,” Raven said.

“Right,” Murphy said. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “He might be one by now. You know a lot of those guys come out of prison as fags.”

I kind of wanted to punch this asshole in the face, but Cassidy snapped the file closed, stepped forward, and dropped it back on the desk. “Thanks for your information.”

He took the card from Mike and looked down at it. I read it over his shoulder. There was a website listed as well as a phone number. “Mind if we keep the card?”

Murphy waved his hand. “Nah, keep it. I’m sure I’ve got another somewhere.” He glanced around the room and then looked at his watch. “Was that it? I have a meeting in a couple minutes.”

“Thanks. You’ve been helpful,” Mike said.

“Yeah, no problem,” Murphy said, standing up. His belly sagged over his pants. When he reached out to shake Cassidy and Mike’s hands, they both took a step back, nearly tripping over Raven and I who had no choice but to back up against the door.

“Sorry, we’re getting over colds,” Mike said.

Murphy’s smile fell. “Okay. Hey, you tell him if he’s been associating with that guy you’re hunting, I’m gonna violate him, okay?”

“We’ll do that,” Cassidy said. “Meanwhile, if you should happen to talk to him, don’t mention we’re trying to find our fugitive.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He waved at the pile of folders on his desk. “Got enough work of my own, to worry about your fugitive.”

We headed out of the stinking office a few seconds later, leaving its equally repulsive occupant to get back to work. Once in the truck, Cassidy pulled up the website on the business card, noting that the next antiques show was being held in Oxnard on Saturday.

“That’s tomorrow,” I said, feeling like there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel. If we were able to get Allcott to tell us where Howell was, even if that meant subduing him long enough to get him in restraints, that’d be ideal. With a show of force by bringing Thayne and Jarrett along, also with badges, maybe he’d be willing to give up his running buddy. If he knew where he was, that was. If necessary, we could always take him from Oxnard back to L.A. and threaten Allcott with jail time if he didn’t want to cooperate.

“Thank God we don’t have to take on a hoard of bikers,” Raven said from the driver’s seat beside me as he started the engine and backed out of its parking space.

I quietly agreed. Not having to take on men who were probably close to Howell’s size, felt like a huge relief. I really hoped Allcott hadn’t agreed to stash him in the biker den. Keeping him away from his phone where he could warn any of his old “brothers” would be the key here. The last thing I wanted to do was expose anyone, even my capable law enforcement friends to danger from those types. Didn’t bikers all seem larger than life and nasty?

“If we talk to him at the show, we should do it either before it starts or afterward,” Mike said, piping up from the backseat as Raven steered the truck onto the freeway. “I don’t like the idea of confronting him in a public place where innocent people can get hurt if this guy decides he has to protect Howell at all costs. Those antique shows are always packed with vendors selling weapons. The guns won’t be loaded, but there’ll be plenty of knives, even if they’re Civil War era.”

“You’re right, Mike. And, there’s always the chance the guy will be armed…in fact, there’s a good chance he will be,” Cassidy added. “Let me call Jarrett and Thayne and see if they’re available tomorrow morning. It’ll be good to have all six of us there.”

I reached over and tugged on Raven’s shirt, and he glanced over. “You’re still recovering. I don’t want you to do something stupid that’ll get you hurt.” His frown was immediate as he dragged his gaze back to the road. Raven was far from stupid, but the word had come out before I could stop it. I watched the muscles in his face as he began grinding his teeth, probably so he wouldn’t say something angry in front of the others.

“I have to agree with Miguel, Raven,” Cassidy said as Mike simply grunted in agreement from the backseat. “It’s not worth getting injured worse than you already are.”

“None of you think I’m capable of taking care of myself? I’m feeling a lot better,” Raven argued.

“I know you had a good nurse the last time, but I’d hate to see you in the hospital for real this time around,” Cassidy said

“Sorry, kid,” Mike said, “I have to agree with Cassidy and Miguel. No one thinks you’re not capable but taking on a big biker who’s used to brawling if he doesn’t decide to capitulate, is the last thing any of us want to see. One slash of a knife because you’re not in your normal fit state, and you’d be useless, not to mention the first thing Miguel is gonna do is jump in to try and take him on if things get ugly.”

I watched Raven’s face as he processed this information. His jaw finally relaxed as he sighed. “I understand.” His hand went absently to his side making it clear he’d gotten the message, loud and clear.

RAVEN

My fury at being treated like a child lessened as I realized that all these men had my best interests at heart, but it still bothered me to be thought of as incapable of handling myself. It was an irrational thought, but it remained for the rest of the drive back to Cassidy and Mike’s vehicle. Jarrett and Thayne had promised to meet the rest of us at five in Oxnard where we’d hopefully be able to talk Allcott into giving up the location of our target, before the event even started. My friends had been right about everything.

Rushing in and trying to do it surrounded by innocent vendors and antique show employees was stupid and reckless. And trying to do anything physical to try to help restrain Allcott if he decided to fight us or if he considered our questions confrontational, could get me hurt again. That was the last thing I needed. I just prayed Howell had gotten in contact with his old buddy because if he hadn’t, this whole exercise would be useless anyway. I really wanted this for Miguel. He was a big, beautiful, proud man, and the money he earned by capturing Howell and bringing him in, would settle his problems, for a while anyway.

I thought about his future—our future—and what would happen after this job, especially when it came down to work. Would he want to separate once I was healed up and go in different directions, working for other companies, becoming rivals for the same big-ticket recoveries again? I doubted he would like it if I suggested he come and work for GMS. And if I was being honest with myself, after meeting Miguel, I was wondering if there was something better out there for me, for both of us. An idea had begun percolating in my mind which still needed much thought before bringing it up, but it was there, in the back of my mind. It would remain there until we’d brought in his fugitive, and he was in a better position to talk about it.

We’d spent all afternoon running errands together but Miguel was unusually silent as I drove us to Trader Joe’s in West Hollywood to pick up the fixings for shrimp and chicken fajitas for dinner. He scrolled through his phone, doing whatever he did on it and then began laughing just as we drove up and parked in front of the house. I glanced over at him to find him reading my latest review on Bestreads…the one from Raisin in my Bum .

When he glanced up, his comments about me not being stupid and getting myself hurt again—which had rankled all afternoon—fled my mind completely. The look on his face when he was happy was everything and I didn’t want to ruin it by saying something. He’d been right but the way he’d said it in front of our mutual friends had irked but I knew I had to let it go. I didn’t want to be angry with him. He was too important to me.

“Are you hungry?” I asked instead.

He stopped me from getting out of the truck with a hand on my forearm. “I didn’t mean to call you stupid,” he said, completely ignoring my question.

I guess my tone hadn’t been quite as smooth as I’d thought. I sighed as I palmed my keys. “I know it. It hurt at the moment, though. I don’t like being thought of as weak.”

He shook his head. “It was insensitive in front of our friends. I should have used different words.” He leaned across the wide console between us and kissed me slowly. The touch of his lips on mine was perfect and my previous anger with him melted away. When we parted, he stared at me with sparkling, brown eyes. The flecks of gold in them were breathtaking in the late afternoon light. The heavy stubble on his cheeks barely hid the dimples as he smiled. “And, yes, I’m starving. We haven’t eaten anything but fucking granola all day.”

I laughed. How could I not? He was a stunning man when he smiled at me like that. At the moment, I needed more of his kisses and less talk, and I needed to feed my man. God knew, he’d need the energy of lots of carbs since I had big plans for us the rest of the night. And, I needed to ask Dolly how my nana was. “Come on. I need to check on Nana and ask her if she wants to come out of her room and join us for dinner. She’s usually happy to sit in her room and listen to audio books during the day but I don’t want her to feel alone. I haven’t spent much time with her lately.”

“I’d love to get to know her a little bit better,” Miguel said, sliding out of the truck and pulling our shopping bags out of the backseat. We carried them inside, thanked Dolly, and made dinner after I’d told Nana I wanted her to join us. Stanley eagerly gobbled up the food Miguel laid out for him in a dish which had belonged to my nana’s cat who’d so recently left us. Miguel dropped a small piece of cooked chicken onto the kitchen floor “accidentally.” Stanley eyed it with great interest and then decided to wear himself out by batting it around on the tiles until dinner was ready. He sauntered back into the living room and took up a spot on the couch so he could watch us eat, falling asleep halfway through the meal.

Miguel was great company during dinner and my nana loved him. I sat next to her as she ate, at the ready if she needed me to help find things on the plate. As usual, she was able to eat on her own, assembling her own fajita and eating the spicy, homemade refried beans we’d picked up from Trader Joe’s to accompany the meal. She ate slowly, for which I was grateful. A couple of years ago, she’d choked on something but had been able to spit it out after ten of the scariest seconds in my life. She was careful to chew every bite but she had trouble swallowing which was why either her nurse or I always kept a careful watch on her whenever she ate.

“That was delicious, Raven,” she said after the meal. As usual, she hadn’t eaten a lot, but for a blind woman, she’d managed to consume everything on the plate.

“Thank you, Nana.” I glanced at Miguel. “Miguel helped. As it turns out, he’s a halfway decent cook.” I reached over and took her small, gnarled hand in mine, squeezing the fingers I loved so much, dreading the day when congestive heart failure and COPD would claim her life. As a young woman, she’d been a heavy smoker. Many on the reservation were. Cigarettes were one of the many scourges white men had introduced our people to, and they’d been the cause of premature death for so many.

I’d briefly smoked when I was young, usually during a night on the town when I was making the rounds of the gay bars, but fortunately, I’d never found cigarettes to my liking, leaving them behind years ago. I couldn’t bear the smell of it on another man’s clothes, or worse, on their breath, so I avoided hooking up or dating men who liked it. Seeing my nana struggle to breathe decades after she’d given up the habit, was confirmation that I’d done the right thing.

She smiled, looking across the table with cloudy, sightless eyes, where she knew Miguel sat. “It was lovely, Miguel. You make a fine addition to our family.”

I stopped, my fork halfway to my mouth as I looked at Miguel. To his credit, he only smiled back at her and then turned to look at me. “I can’t take credit for it. Fajitas are easy. All I did was make the guacamole.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, sweetheart,” she said. “I knew you made it because it tastes different from the way Raven’s does. But both are made with love.” She smiled and I watched the deep crow’s feet at the sides of her eyes crinkle up as she did so. My heart pounded in my chest.

“I bought ice cream,” I said, changing the subject from love. “It’s your favorite, Nana.”

Her eyes widened. “Sweet cream?”

“From Cold Stones,” I replied.

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” Miguel said, looking down at his plate with a little frown before glancing back up at me with a grin. “Now I wish I hadn’t eaten so much dinner.” He slapped his belly which made Nana laugh. She may be blind, but she certainly knew the sound of a satisfied man.

“I’ll get us each a bowl,” I said. “A small bowl,” I clarified, holding up two hands in surrender. “You stay right where you are, Nana.”

“I’ll clear the table while you get the ice cream,” Miguel offered, pushing away from the table and standing up. He began stacking dishes as I went into the kitchen where he joined me a minute later. He was smiling. “That went well, right?”

I nodded to him as I scooped my nana’s favorite ice cream into bowls for us. He set the dishes in the sink before washing his hands and grabbing a towel to dry them. “I’ll do the dishes after dinner.”

I bumped his hip. “I’ll help…and then put Nana to bed so we can have some alone time.”

He grinned, and then threw down the towel, pulling me into his arms. His kiss was filled with heat and felt incredible on my lips. I slid my arms around him and melted against his body, loving the feel of the unresisting muscles under my hands and the heat that poured from him. When we finally parted a couple of minutes later, I was harder than a brick and more than ready for him. He was panting and when he looked down, drawing my attention to his own rampant erection outlined in his jeans, all I could do was laugh. It was going to be a very interesting night.