INK: Vanishing Point (Book 2) (3 page)

“We don’t know that yet.”
I’m not convinced that will be the case. No body, no murder.
“Listen, why don’t you go home and get some sleep, have
you even been home since she was brought in?”

“No I don’t want to leave,
Jerry brought me a few changes of clothes and he’s taking care
of Rex.” Eli motions to the duffle bag on the floor.

“We need a set of eyes and ears in
the D.A.’s office. We need to know what’s happening and
whether the grand jury is going to hear the case." While I
really don’t like the idea of him putting his ass on the line,
keeping my little girl out of jail is the priority.

“Preston is going to take his time
on this. He’s also not letting me anywhere near it. He’s
not going to want to bring her in unless he’s sure he can get
an indictment. Sharon will call me if there is any real movement.”
Eli draws in a deep breath. “Once they can question her I’m
sure it will be okay.”

“I hope so. I don’t think
she can deal with all of this.”

“I know, Harry, but she’s
stronger than you think. She’s going to be fine.” Eli
grimaces.

“What about when she asks for
Aiden again? You know she will.” There’s only so much one
man should be expected to take.

“I’m going to have to tell
her. That is if she doesn’t remember on her own.” Eli
pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Well for her sake I hope she
doesn’t remember.”

Detective Glass

“Knock knock.” The door to
D.A. Preston’s office is open; I stand waiting for an
invitation.

“What is it, Glass?” Preston
doesn’t look up from his computer.

Prick. “I just got an interesting
e-mail from Tampa PD.” My fingers worry the edges of the sheaf
of print outs. “You need to see this.”

“Did you forward it? Or were you
just that compelled to come down here to fuck up my day?” The
smug bastard leans back in his chair finally acknowledging my
existence.

“Fuck your day. Look at this.”
He doesn’t invite me in so I walk in anyway and drop the pages
from a dramatic height. It’s a lot of pages so they fall
heavily on the desk with a thud.

He picks it up and starts looking
through it; his face twists at the horror of it. Mine did; this is
sick and the sooner we get her off the streets the better. She’s
racking up a body count that rivals the plague.

“Jesus Christ.” Is all he
can say as he starts shuffling through the photos.

“Yeah, I don’t think Jesus
has anything to do with this.” I give him more time to look
everything over.

“You got this from Tampa PD?”
Preston looks up at me from the paper, trying to hide the look of
horror on his face.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t
need to know why they sent it; bottom line is they sent it and we’ve
got her. She was there.

“There’s no DNA in this
report. Did they have any?” Preston takes the logical route; if
he thinks I don’t see the picture of him and Harry Baynes on
the wall he’s wrong. I know he’s too close to this to be
objective. But is there anyone in this office that doesn’t know
her, has changed her diaper as a baby or fucked her?

“Not yet, and we don’t have
hers. That asshole Eddins made sure of that.” I pause for
minute to see how objective he can be. “I want to bring her in;
I want her to be processed so we can at least get some DNA.”

“Get me something that I can bring
her in on. I’ll do it in a heartbeat. If she’s the one
responsible for this I’ll walk her to the electric chair
myself.” He looks earnest, but he wavers on the last word. I
could mistake it for bluster, but he’s really worried.

“Will you hold her hand while they
shave her head?” See what he thinks of that.

Preston looks up at me, eyes full of
fury. He inhales a steady breath for the seriousness of his words to
ride out on. “Let’s get something clear. I want to nail
whoever is committing these murders and if my own mother was a
suspect I would put her through the wringer until I was sure it
wasn’t her.” He stands, leaning his arms on the desk
trying to create an ominous presence, “I’m doing my due
diligence because I know her, I trust her and I also know her
attorneys. Jason Eddins could get Charles Manson out of jail for
Christ’s sake. We have to have a solid case; if we don’t,
Jason will bury us. I also want to know that if I’m flushing a
lifelong friendship down the toilet it’s because I really think
she’s guilty.”

“Don’t you, though?”
This guy is a joke; everything points to her.

“Honestly I don’t. She’s
been through a lot and I know the drawings are pretty damning, but
just like Eddins’ research team was able to ferret out, it’s
not PC for arrest or prosecution.” He sits back in his chair
and steeples his fingers. “I need real evidence that connects
her to the crime scenes or weapons, something I can bring to a grand
jury, and I’m all for it.”

Let’s see what this asshole thinks
of this. I maneuver the evidence bag from my pocket that holds a
broken high heel encrusted with mud and blood. “How’s
this for connecting her to the scene?”

He picks up the bag studying the
contents. “What’s this?”

“CSU found it in the field next to
the Messner’s house on their second sweep. Gary Messner’s
blood’s on it.” Dispute that.

“Two problems with your ‘slipper
theory,’ Glass.” He smirks. If he fucking says
‘Cinderella’ I swear I’ll taze him.

“How is this a problem? It links
her to the crime scene. This was found in the field between their
houses.” This guy really doesn’t want to nail her, I can
feel it.

“First, where’s the
footprints at the scene. Second, Shay Baynes doesn’t wear high
heels.” He throws the bag back toward me.

There is actually pain in my temples
from this guy pissing me off. This is ridiculous; if this were
Detroit this bitch would already be locked up, not out slaughtering
more people. I try to keep my tone as low as possible, but my anger
is raging out of control and my voice gets louder with each word.
“Preston, so far I count seven bodies, seven. All of them are
connected to her. The Messners were her neighbors, Eli was boning
Kristen Ringgold, all three of these kids in Tampa were at her comic
signing and I know with the certainty that I’m standing here
that she murdered Aiden Roth.” This asshole is keeping me from
doing my job and just sits in his chair ignoring me. I’m tired
of having my hands tied by him. He jumps when my fist slams down on
his desk. “It’s plain as day that these murders were
committed by this little bitch and I’m going to collar her for
it.”

“Those are the words of a lazy
cop, and I would appreciate you not calling my daughter a bitch.”
I turn to see Harry Baynes in the doorway. “Preston, can I have
a minute.” He holds up a manila folder.

“Sure, come on in Harry.”
Preston looks away from his computer then to me. This is probably
where I get kicked out of the office. “Both of you have a
seat.”

“Are you sure you don’t want
me to go?” My anger hasn’t subsided; it’s just
sneaking its way out via sarcasm.

“No actually I’d like to
have you here for this.” Harry’s tone is placid. He’s
always had an amazing calm about him. Probably why he made
Commissioner and managed to retire from it.

“What’s up Harry?”
Preston has a smug look on his face.

“I actually came to talk to the
detective. I went to his office and they said he was here.” He
turns to me. “Detective, I have some new evidence that confirms
Shayleigh was in Tampa spanning the time of death for Kristen
Ringgold.”

My curiosity of what he could possibly
have to clear her prickles the back of my neck. I don’t want it
to be true; I want to take her down. “Let’s see it.”

Harry hands a thumb drive to Preston.
“Do you mind playing this?”

Preston turns his monitor so we can all
watch the video. “You can see by the time stamp that this video
was taken the day the Ringgold girl was murdered. It’s the
traffic camera across the street from the hotel.”

“What am I looking at?” I
ask, failing to see anything of real interest in the video.

Harry watches the time counter
carefully, and then leans forward in his chair “Okay, pause
it.” He stands but is still hunched over putting his finger
directly on the LED screen causing the color to distort. He eases up
the pressure. “Right there, you see. That‘s Shay getting
into a parked car on the street by the hotel.”

“That doesn’t prove
anything.” I can’t believe he thinks that saves her.

“Actually it does.” Preston
adds. “It proves she couldn’t have killed the Ringgold
girl.”

He says that like it’s a fact that
everyone knows. “How do you figure? She still had time to come
back here, and then drive back to Tampa before her signing.”

“No she didn’t,” Harry
protests.

There isn’t a lot more of this
that I can take. I stand up to walk out, this video doesn’t
prove anything. “I’m God damn sick and tired of you
country bumpkins and your Matlock law.”

“You know, Brandon, you didn’t
have a problem with Harry’s ‘country bumpkin’ law
when he made that DUI go away.” I knew Harry wouldn’t
keep that to himself. I also knew it would come back to haunt me.
Fuck these two.

“Your revelation of evidence may
clear her for the Ringgold murder, but I doubt you’ll be able
to pull anything out of your magic hat for the three corpses in Tampa
with her signature all of over them.” I pause in the doorway
waiting for one of them to speak, when they don’t, I leave in
disgust. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow in the
interrogation.”

Shay

I’ve been in here for two weeks
now; well, two weeks since I woke up. I’ve had many small
victories like being allowed to pee alone and eat solid food. Of
course the food is rubbish, but Eli sneaks in the good stuff from the
sandwich cart downstairs. I had a wonderful lemon muffin this
morning; it was like eating sex.

Eli had Jerry bring in a few art
supplies so I could at least doodle and when the headaches aren’t
bad I get a little reading done to pass the time. Soap operas and
cheesy court shows with bad freeze-frames aren’t my thing.
Besides, I think Eli and Dad don’t want me to catch the news in
case I’m on it. For whatever reason part of the big the secret
they are keeping from me is apparently for my own good. I’m too
tired and anxious to get out of here to even bother trying to drag
the truth out of them.

The nurses have finally given up on
trying to get Eli to leave. They are letting him shower in my
bathroom. I’m definitely worried about what all of this is
going to cost. Raphael was strong-armed into giving us benefits last
year, but the insurance is crap.

Eli said that the law firm is picking up
the bill. Something about having a private room is in my best
interest in the event that we have any conversations that we wouldn’t
want to be public. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but
whatever. I'm trying to be good and not stress out. I don’t
want anything to get in the way of my getting out of here.

Once I’m out, I’ll be able
to start getting some answers. I haven’t heard a peep from
McNab directly. Just a few cryptic messages through Carl, but Eli
doesn’t want him in the room. He comes in when I send Eli for
snacks and BLTs. Carl may speak a bunch of different languages, but I
just wish one of them was plain English.

Aiden hasn’t been in either. Eli
changes the subject or starts making excuses that I can’t be
upset every time I ask him anything. He promises he’s going to
tell me everything when I’m released. But I wish he would just
get it over with and just spill it that Aiden took off. It’s
what he does: he leaves.

What happened to me is a complete
mystery. I really don’t remember much. Most of it’s just
bits and pieces, like looking at yourself in a broken mirror. None of
it makes sense.

There’s a cop guarding my door, I
can’t even get Eli to tell me why. I don’t know if he’s
keeping me in or someone else out. Now that the heart monitors are
off me I can get angry about how much he and Dad are keeping me in
the dark.

I stand in front of the mirror and
examine the gauze on my neck. I want to look under it, but I won’t.
I still don’t know what happened or who shot me. The left side
of my head was shaved just above the ear. A bullet grazed my head but
left a nasty gouge that required stitches. I look like Frankenstein.
If it weren’t for the stitches it wouldn’t look half bad,
but I’ve receive assurances from everyone that my hair will
grow back. Duh! Like that's actually my biggest concern. Hello,
somebody shot me.

I don’t give a shit about a strip
of hair. I want to know what happened. I want to know why there is a
cop outside my door. I want to know where the hell Aiden is. I want
to know why Eli and Dad have kept all of my visitors on lockdown.

Trish sent me flowers. The card read:

Hey Girl – Come back soon. I miss
you. They won’t let me in to see you.

Love Ya, Trish

P.S. Tell Eli to fuck off.

But today is the day. The day I get to
go home. It’s exciting and feels like the great unknown.

I sit back down on the bed, dressed and
ready. Everything is packed and on one of those little hospital
carts. I just need to talk to the doctor one more time and then I’m
out!

Eli steps out of the bathroom wearing
only his pants. They are undone and his belt is hanging loose. He’s
drying his hair. The water glistens on his skin like jewels. Every
muscle is his chest twitches with his movement. My eyes are
immoveable from his form. It has to be illegal to be that delicious.
It’s giving me a hot flash just looking at him. I bite down on
my lower lip. He stops drying his hair to look at me, and a devilish
grin spreads across his luscious lips that light up his eyes. McNab’s
words go through my mind, “What are you, in heat or something?”