“Empty it,” he said.
She pulled her hand out, held it open. “Nothing in that one.”
Her voice sounded high and tinny to her own ears—like she was scared to death.
She was.
“Empty your damn pocket. Inside out, now.”
She pulled out the bag of weed. “It isn’t mine.”
“Of course it isn’t.” He took it from her. “That’s why it was in your pocket.”
He motioned to the cruiser. “We’re taking a little ride.”
“Please, just go look. We’re right here. If you do, I’ll come quietly—”
“You’ll come quietly because I said you will. Hands behind your back.”
“What? Why?”
He snapped a cuff on one wrist, then the other. “In the cruiser.”
“Cathy needs our help! Right back there.” Randi started to cry. “Why won’t you listen to me?”
He didn’t respond, just shoved her into the backseat and slammed the door. She looked over her shoulder at the spot where she’d stumbled out of the woods, trying to memorize it as it disappeared from sight, red lights twirling crazily, the effect like a funhouse on crack. She felt sick to her stomach and turned quickly away, praying she didn’t puke.
“Back there, you asked me why I wouldn’t listen to you.” Wheeler met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “It’s because you’re a liar, Randi Rader. You’ve proved that a hundred times over. And leopards don’t change their spots.”
She wanted to deny it, but those hundreds of times flew to her mind. A bitter taste rose in her throat.
“I’m on to what you’re up to, Missy. That whole story back there was a diversion. You were going to lead me on a wild goose chase and when I wasn’t looking, you were going to toss the pot. Sorry to spoil your plan.”
Randi pressed her lips together and looked away. She caught a sign: BELLHAVEN PLANTATION AND NATURE PRESERVE, 2 MILES AHEAD.
The Preserve. That’s where they’d been, she realized. In the sixth grade she’d taken a field trip there. She recalled being wide-eyed at the size of the house and the forlorn beauty of the overrun gardens and grounds.
“I feel so bad for your poor mama,” Wheeler was saying. “She and I went to school together, did you know that?” He didn’t seem to notice her silence and went on. “She was a pretty girl. Not all beaten down like now. A real shame.”
He fell silent a moment, then went on. “Your mama, she wasn’t from the best family, but how many of us from around here are, right? But what she saw in your daddy … I’ll never understand.”
He snorted. “And now look, all three of her kids headed for the same place. Your brothers both have one foot in a jail cell already and after tonight you’re not looking much better off.”
He clucked his tongue. “Lord almighty, you’d think one of you would want to do better than your—” He stopped a moment before adding, “—daddy.”
He’d been about to say “no-good daddy,” Randi knew, but had held back. He needn’t have, she thought, she knew it was true and so did everybody else around these parts.
“So how about it, Randi?” He met her gaze in the rearview once more. “You gonna end up like your mama? Or worse?”
Worse, Randi thought, stomach heaving. Turning her head, she puked on the seat beside her. Much worse.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
8:10 A.M.
When Miranda emerged from the bathroom, Jake was gone and her cell phone was ringing. She snatched it up off the bed, glanced at the display, and answered. “Hey, Summer.”
“Morning, princess. Headache, I presume?”
“You presume wrong. Clear as a bell.”
“Interesting. You’re not as out of practice as I thought.”
Miranda pictured the night before, her and Jake tangled together, and her mouth went dry. Summer was referring to her tequila consumption, but wouldn’t she enjoy knowing how close to home her words were?
“Underestimating me as usual. What’s up?”
“I’ve got those names for you. The group of ladies who were talking about Richard Stark.”
“You’re amazing. Thank you.”
She laughed. “There’s more. After I closed up, I went over to Metro, talked with a friend over there. Name’s Skye. She said Stark used to come in there a lot, hit on some of the cocktail waitresses, a couple of the bartenders. You might want to look her up.”
Summer rattled off the names, promised to keep Miranda posted if she heard anything else, then hung up. As Miranda went to set down the phone, she remembered the earlier call that she’d ignored. They’d left a message and she accessed her voice mail.
“Hi, little sis, this is—”
Her brother. Robby. Miranda dropped the phone like a hot rock. Her hands shook. Her heart formed a knot in her throat. Why today? She hadn’t heard from Robby—or any other member of her family—in over two years. The silence had been a blessing.
She breathed deeply, in through her nose and out her mouth, working to center herself. The last family member she’d talked to was her mother, calling for help. Wes had been arrested again. Drug charges, again. Miranda was a cop, couldn’t she do something?
As politely as possible, Miranda had explained that her job was upholding the law, not making life easier for criminals. She’d urged her mother to contact an attorney, then ended the call.
Remembering her mother’s emotional plea made her angry. Where was that mom when Miranda needed help? Fifteen, that’s how old she’d been. The same woman, now desperate to help her precious son the drug dealer, had washed her hands of Miranda.
“Six months in juvie will do you good, girl. Maybe it’ll open your eyes and straighten you up.”
Boy, had it opened her eyes. Enough to know she didn’t want anything to do with her mother, father, or the rest of her no-good family ever again. She decided that when she was old enough to escape them, she was out of there.
Miranda bent, snatched up the phone, and deleted her brother’s message. Hopefully it would be another two years until she heard from any of them.
She strapped on her shoulder holster, then slipped on her jacket. She grabbed an apple and protein bar and hit the road.
She dialed Jake from the car. “Hey,” she said when he answered. “You at HQ yet?”
“On my way now. What’s up?”
“Got a lead from Summer. A group of women in the Cat yesterday, talking about Stark. Said something to the effect he was probably killed by one of the many women he was juggling. Thought I’d track them down this morning, see if they can point me toward anyone in particular.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll bring Buddy up to speed and catch up with you.”
“Perfect—”
“Miranda?”
Something in his voice suddenly sounded different. Personal. Complications, they were starting already. “Yeah?”
“Nothing. It’s cool. Talk to you later.”
*
Naomi, Caroline, and Emma. All three attractive and married, all three with money and too much time on their hands. They were more than happy to talk to her.