Deep into dusk, p.9
Deep into Dusk, page 9
The memory of her body was still fresh. Gabriel, however, attempted to do the right thing.
“Come to my office,” he told her.
“Couldn’t we meet somewhere else? Somewhere a little below radar? I need to talk to you in private.”
Gabriel caught Dash glance at him, and lowered his voice. “There’s a coffee and poetry place I know of in Venice, very bohemian.”
“Bohemian is perfect!”
“I’ll call your cell with details later.” Gabriel hung up. So much for doing the right thing.
“That Ming?” Dash asked him.
Gabriel shrugged, nodding absently. “Yeah. Whatcha got?”
“Two things. First…” Dash lifted the lid on the large box he had placed in front of Gabriel and pulled out the reconstructed head of Tapia Park Jane Doe.
“Pretty, isn’t she?”
Gabriel would have to agree. Under the auburn wig was the visage of an attractive Caucasian woman between her mid to late twenties. She fixed Gabriel with a glass-eyed stare. “Who is she?”
“That, my dear Watson,” Dash told him, “is something we’re going to have to find out. I’ve already sent a picture of her to Missing Persons.”
“Good man.”
Dash reached around to his desk and unclasped a manila envelope. “And running the photo of Wagon Wheel Jane Doe in the papers paid off. I received a call from Children of the Night.”
“Isn’t that a line from Dracula?” Gabriel asked, recalling something about howling wolves.
Dash shook his head. “This group keeps kids off the Hollywood streets. A shelter volunteer saw our girl’s photo and called me. She sent me this.”
He passed Gabriel a fuzzy Polaroid of a girl leaning against a wall. Gabriel instantly recognized the violated, black-haired young woman found at the Wagon Wheel Ranch house.
“Her name is Regina Jones from Morro Bay,” Dash said. “The shelter says she stayed with them for a couple of months. The lady there is willing to be interviewed. I did some checking, and so far there are no Joneses in Morro Bay who own up to knowing a Regina.”
Gabriel mused. “If she’s a runaway, she would use a fake name.”
“Why don’t we put a team on researching dental records at Morro Bay. Hopefully we’ll get a match with our Regina Jones.”
“Well, that’s one down,” Gabriel said and his cell phone interrupted. He answered it anxiously, thinking it might be Tara again. “McRay.”
“Hi, it’s Ming.”
Gabriel froze and then composed himself. “Hi.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m all right,” he answered. “You?”
“I’m well. I just wanted to know what you were doing tonight. I thought we should get together and talk.”
“Oh.” Gabriel swallowed. “I’ve got plans.”
A minute of silence passed between them and then Ming spoke in her full professional voice.
“Busy boy. Okay, no problem. Hey, I’ve got the lab results on your AIDS test. No antibodies were found. You’re negative. I thought you’d want to know.”
Gabriel stiffened. He had forgotten all about the possibility of sexually transmitted diseases. He’d slept with Tara.
“Hello?” Ming asked.
“Thanks so much, Ming. I mean it.”
Ming seemed to waver over the phone. “I kind of thought we could celebrate with some safe sex.”
Now that sounded like the old Ming. Gabriel forced a chuckle, a hilarity that he didn’t feel. “Sounds like a ‘safe’ plan. But like I said, I’m busy tonight.”
Dash crossed his arms, brows furrowed. Gabriel ignored his questioning look.
“I’ve got some more news,” Ming said, cutting him a break, which made Gabriel feel even more like a jerk. “I’ve got the report on the syringe found at the Wagon Wheel crime scene. The lab found traces of methamphetamine plus a small sampling of blood inside the needle. The blood was AB, which is the same type in that syringe you found in the forest.”
Gabriel nodded. “That’s great. I’d love to tie the two syringes to Ross.”
“Ross?” Ming asked.
“A person of interest.”
“I’ll need his blood sample or a syringe in his possession. A saliva swab would do for DNA testing.”
“I’ll work on it. Thanks, Ming. Again, sorry about tonight.”
“And if you get me about one hundred milligrams of his hair, cut close to the scalp, I can determine if he was using meth at the time your girl was killed at the Wagon Wheel.”
“I’ll do my best. Thanks again, and you have a good night, okay?”
“Who are your plans with?”
“Ming, Dash is about to show me something—”
“Are we broken up?”
“Okay, let me call you about this later.”
“Asshole.” Ming hung up.
Gabriel sighed at the phone in his hand.
“Everything okay?” Dash asked.
Gabriel nodded without looking up. “We’ve got to get a search warrant for Ross’s place. We need to find another syringe to tie directly to him. We’ll also need to get a DNA sample.”
“I’ll let the lieutenant know,” Dash told him. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Never been better,” Gabriel lied.
Chapter 10
The Venice boardwalk was quiet and the beach lay dormant beneath a shroud of clouds. Light issued from under the doorway of “Shakespeare’s Cup,” a hole-in-the-wall café that served organic sandwiches and a variety of coffee beverages. A cluster of souls surrounded the small stage at the back. A bespectacled man with blond hair and a Gibson guitar, sat on a bar stool and strummed pretty chords. He sang an original composition about a woman with a faraway look in her eyes.
“Who knows where she goes when she stares as she’s all alone?” he sang softly. “Come back from where you’ve been. Is it the only place you’re really in?”
Gabriel and Tara watched the lone singer as they sat in comfortable chairs and sipped espresso drinks. Gabriel was intent on staying away from booze so he could keep his wits about him.
He studied Tara through the steam rising from her drink. Her porcelain skin, the tight sweater cupping breasts that rode high above her small waist; the body of a woman with the delicate psyche of a little girl. Gabriel found Tara irresistible.
The song ended and Tara grinned, clapping. The performer bowed slightly and then began to play an instrumental.
“That was nice,” Tara said, sipping her coffee.
Gabriel gazed at her. “You said you wanted to talk, Tara.”
“Did I?” Tara’s eyes were on the stage.
“I’m here and it’s private,” he told her. “Talk to me.”
The song ended and Tara clapped euphorically. She didn’t seem to hear Gabriel.
“Mrs. Samuels?”
She turned to Gabriel with a perplexed expression. “Aren’t we passed that? I told you to call me Tara.”
Gabriel sighed. “Look, about what we did the other night… I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have crossed that line.”
“What are you sorry for? I crossed a line, too.” Tara looked back at the singer, who began a song about voyages to far off places.
“Oh, don’t you just love to travel?” she asked Gabriel eagerly. “Marc and I watched this old movie called ‘10’ once and I fell in love with that resort in the movie. It’s in Mexico, right on the ocean. Hot sand and blue water. Tropical drinks. It’s so sensual. That’s just what I consider heaven.”
Gabriel watched her, figuring her pole-vaulting between subjects was due to her trauma or the effect of some medication. He motioned the waiter over and asked for the bill. Obviously, Tara had changed her mind about needing to talk.
Tara watched Gabriel pay the tab and her face grew serious. After he’d tucked his wallet into his pocket, she reached over and took his hand. She held it momentarily then placed it between her legs.
“Tara…” Gabriel shook his head.
She moved his hand further up her dress and Gabriel felt heat spread through his body as his fingers touched moist skin. Tara wasn’t wearing panties. She lifted his fingers to her mouth and gently sucked on them.
“Would you mind if we left?” she murmured.
Gabriel couldn’t answer. He was too busy watching her mouth.
She walked with him to his car and he was mildly surprised to see her crawl into his backseat. She motioned for him to join her. Gabriel shifted uneasily. He didn’t want anyone in the backseat of his old car. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had his car washed.
Tara pulled at his arm and he fell inside, forcing a laugh. She didn’t seem to mind the gum wrappers, scraps of paper, and empty Styrofoam cups that Gabriel had tossed back there since God-knew-when. She turned her back to him and hoisted up her wool skirt. She planted her palms against the window for support.
Gabriel surveyed her, knowing what she wanted, knowing he wanted it too, and knowing that this was stupid and crazy.
She looked back at him. “What are you waiting for?”
“Are you sure this—” he began tentatively.
“I want you to! Just do it!” She smiled. “And do it like you mean it.”
So Gabriel did. He could not see her face. He could only watch her soft blond hair and hear her cries. The woman herself seemed to disappear, so Gabriel experimented, no longer self-conscious. Tara urged him to be more forceful, so he rammed into her body as hard as he could.
Afterwards, when he’d poured himself into her and lay against her with deep breaths, Tara pulled away and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Gently pushing Gabriel aside, she collected her things and slipped out of his car like a whore. Quickly zipping up his pants, Gabriel exited the car also, if anything just to kiss her goodbye. Before he could reach her, Tara scrambled to the haven of her own car and left him standing awkwardly in the damp parking lot. He watched her drive off.
Bewildered, Gabriel returned to the driver’s seat of his Celica with his head feeling stuffed and his body feeling empty. He rolled down the steamed-up window and hoped the night’s cold air might give him some clarity. Why was it so easy to fall from grace? Why did he give in again when he knew that this was a dangerous game to play?
For years, sex had been a degrading act; that was the legacy Andrew had left him. Gabriel had never felt in control when it came to sex. With his previous lovers and his ex-wife, he simply went through the motions and felt nothing. He had built a shell around himself. Ming had come around about the same time Gabriel had started therapy. Until lately, they seemed quite good for each other. Now here was Tara, a woman who encouraged Gabriel to dominate, to take control, but it didn’t feel right.
He’d fucked her, plain and simple. Apparently, that’s how she wanted it. In fact, the more Gabriel could cheapen the experience, the more Tara seemed to get off on it.
Why would she want a man to cheapen her in the backseat of a beat-up car? Was she perhaps subconsciously working out the trauma of her rape? Mulling over these thoughts, Gabriel headed for home and the blissful ignorance of sleep.
* * *
The morning sun sparkled off the white plastered walls of the Hindu Temple, a destination for Hindus and tourists alike. The main Temple boasted a tall white spire intricately adorned with carved gods and goddesses. Lesser buildings housed ornately dressed images of the deities.
Anju Rajamani walked out the main gate with her new husband, Parveen, whom she preferred to call Paul, a decidedly more western name. Still high off her honeymoon, still getting to know her spouse, Anju was jittery. Nerves made her act immature.
Paul played it off by smoking, something Anju couldn’t tolerate and was not informed about when they were betrothed.
“Cigarettes cause cancer,” she said, watching him light up. They walked toward their parked car.
Paul ignored her, so Anju playfully grabbed the pack from him and sprinted away.
“Anju, that’s a brand new pack. Give it to me,” he pleaded, following her.
She laughed, shaking her head, running toward the brush lining the paved road.
“Anju!”
He chased her and found her pouting prettily between two monkey bushes. “Okay, hand over the pack.”
“My goodness you are addicted. Go get it.” She promptly tossed the cigarettes into the farthest bush.
“I can’t believe you!” he yelled, glaring at her as he stomped over to the green, thrusting branches.
She laughed, dancing around him, and Parveen wondered if his parents had made a mistake. She was so juvenile. Not like the more sophisticated American women he worked with.
He muttered under his breath, letting her know he was angry. Anju seemed to get the message and knelt at the bush with him. “You want help?”
“Just stay back, okay? You’ve been enough help.” He began combing through the brush.
“Paul, do you think there are snakes this time of year?”
“Now that would be a good one, wouldn’t it? A rattler bites me while you laugh like an idiot.” Behind his own cigarette smoke, Parveen smelled a rank odor.
He put his hand into the bush and pulled out an empty plastic water bottle. Parveen pushed his torso further into the monkey bush, his arm reaching inside.
“They’re only cigarettes!” Anju cried. “Forget it!”
Annoyed with her, Parveen pulled back a thick branch and suddenly, the body of a woman thudded against his chest. He yelped and scrambled backwards as the corpse fell on top of him. Coarse hair touched his face as a slew of ants rained down from under her hairline. One of her eyes was missing, a string of optic nerve hung down her cheek. The other eye was open, red, and staring at him. Parveen gasped; a choker of wire encircled the dead girl’s throat.
Somewhere behind him, Parveen heard his new bride screaming. He couldn’t move. A fetid odor reeked from the corpse’s mouth, which was kissing-close to his. Parveen watched in horror as the corpse’s blue lips began to quiver. He felt his bladder release. From out of the dead woman’s mouth crawled a shiny black beetle.
* * *
The crime scene had been taped, but that didn’t stop the news helicopters from buzzing overhead. Drivers drawn by the revolving emergency lights slowed down for a better view, halting traffic. Dusk had moved into the mountains, casting the oaks and eucalyptus in a violet hue.
While Dash spoke with the distraught Indian couple that had found the body, Gabriel stood beside the corpse, taking photographs. This girl had been horribly violated. The amount of blood covering her and the expression in her one eye spoke volumes. Tara had been at the mercy of this sadist. No wonder she acted peculiar.
Guilt rolled through Gabriel. He had been rough with Tara the other night in his car. He wasn’t an animal, and yet he felt he had acted like one.
Leaves crunched next to Gabriel and a spicy fragrance filled the sour air surrounding the corpse. Ming gave him a brief smile.
“Hi,” he said, somewhat surprised and pleased to see her.
“I thought I’d come and see this one myself.”
Seeing Ming slide into her usual, capable role once again gave Gabriel comfort. Ming was calm in the midst of tragedy and somehow found humor in a humorless world, so unlike him, definitely unlike Tara. Ming would sooner get impaled on an anthill than encourage a man to demean her.
She knelt to inspect the dead girl and Gabriel crouched down as well, causing their sleeves to brush.
“Note the baling wire,” Gabriel said.
“And I see she has ligature marks on both wrists.”
Continuing her initial examination under the narrow margin of daylight, Ming pressed her gloved finger against the discolored dark skin of the girl’s back. There was no blanching. “There’s fixed lividity involving the dorsal aspect. You should make note of that.”
Gabriel nodded. From experience, he knew this to mean that the blood had pooled at the victim’s back right after death. The witness had claimed the body was draped on the branches, lying on her stomach, which most likely meant the girl had been killed somewhere else and then eventually dumped here.
Like a piece of discarded trash. Like the way I treated Tara.
Gabriel caught Ming studying him.
Ask me, Ming. Be nosy like you used to be. Tell me to tell you what’s on my mind.
Ming rose and peeled off her latex gloves. “I’d say she’s been dead at least sixteen hours, probably longer.” She scanned the dripping chaparral. “I’ll know more when we get her downtown. It’s the same killer, isn’t it?”
Gabriel nodded and stood up as well.
“Did you get me a syringe from your person of interest?” Ming asked.
“We’ll be going through his place tomorrow, as soon as the warrant comes through.” He regarded her gently. “How’re you doing, Ming?”
“We’re broken up. You don’t have to care.” She turned and headed toward the coroner’s van.
Chapter 11
Two days later, Gabriel called Tara on his cell phone as he drove to the Malibu substation where Ross was being detained. He hadn’t spoken to her since their rendezvous on Venice Beach. He had wanted to avoid the temptation of being near her. The case, however, needed her witness account and Gabriel could not afford to hide any longer. Tara answered on the second ring.
“Your attacker has struck again,” he stated.
Tara was silent.
“I’m on my way to interview Ross.”
“Really?”
“Do you have any more comments about Ross?”
He could hear her fidgeting over the phone. “I can’t be sure. I mean, Marc says I have to be sure.”
Gabriel was irked. Tara had so much respect for Marc, yet she was real quick to sleep with Gabriel.
“I’m not interested in what Marc has to say.”
A nervous laugh escaped her. “Where are you?”
“Not too far.”
He didn’t know why he told her that. He shouldn’t have.
“Come over,” she begged. “And I’ll tell you my comments about Ross.”
Gabriel glanced at his watch. “I don’t have a lot of time, Tara.”
