Then there were the dreams. They were coming more and more often. As she’d driven home, she’d decided that she needed a night without them. She figured if she drank enough, maybe she could silence her brain long enough to have at least one merciful night free of torment.
If she’d dreamed, she didn’t recall the content. But the physical torment she woke to was almost as unbearable. She felt queasy. Her head was pounding and her mouth was dry. She glanced at the clock. Midnight. She hadn’t even made it halfway through the night. It was going to be a long one.
She rolled out of bed still half-drunk and fumbled through her bathroom medicine cabinet. Tampons, Neosporin, Isopropyl alcohol, Maalox, and a bottle of eye cream she rarely ever used. No aspirin. Damn.
Rinsing her mouth out, Shyla caught a glimpse of the pint-sized Cuervo bottle she’d been drinking from in the reflection of her mirror. It looked guilty, sitting there on her night stand with only a few sips left in the bottom. She spit into the sink then turned and stared it down. Bile rose in her throat and she decided she wouldn’t be able to drink herself back to sleep.
She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and trudged out to the living room. She plopped on the couch and prayed she’d be able to get back to sleep. Twenty minutes later, her headache was full throttle. There was no way she was going to get any rest if she didn’t get her hands on a bottle of aspirin.
Resigned, she pulled on her sweatpants, pulled a baseball cap over her head and threaded her hair through the back. Then she slipped on runners and stepped outside. The night air was crisp but not too cold yet. If she’d have felt better she would have inhaled it deeply, but the only thing on her mind was getting to the Walgreens five blocks down.
The fluorescent lights inside seemed to exacerbate the rhythmic thrum of the migraine. She squinted against the light, pulled her cap lower and concentrated on not throwing up.
Instinct told her to go to the far back corner of the store, next to the pharmacy. She spotted the signs hanging above each aisle and confirmed that pain meds would be on aisle 14. The store appeared empty, other than the bored clerk at the register. She should be in and out.
As she passed aisle 12, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. She glanced over and spotted the side profile of plump girl, who looked to be about fifteen or so, staring at the make-up selection. Shyla made note but kept walking eager to get out of the store and back into the sanctuary of her dark apartment.
As she scanned the vast variety of pain meds, her cop brain kicked into gear and she started thinking that the girl looked highly suspicious. She had an over-sized, canvas satchel slung over her shoulder. And it seemed an odd time of night to be shopping for lip gloss and mascara.
Shyla warned herself not to get involved. She was a secretary now. Besides, Walgreens’ were riddled with video cameras right? If the girl stole anything, she’d be caught.
Still, she couldn’t help herself. She slowly reviewed the selections of generic and name brand aspirins but kept an eye at the slanted mirror which bordered the entire length of the ceiling. Sure as shit, she watched the girl slip three different items into her bag then head toward the front of the store.
Shyla hesitated for a second. She knew the girl would likely pay for an item then try to sneak out the front door with the rest in her bag. The woman at the counter couldn’t give a rip.
Shyla stepped up to the register and paid for her bottle of aspirin. She walked out the front door and slipped around the corner out of the vision of the camera. There were no cars in the lot. The girl had probably walked. The other side of the building was directly next to the side of steep hill. The only way for the girl to go was around the corner and then up the sidewalk.
Shyla’s head pulsated as her pulse quickened. Why the hell was she worrying about a punk teenage kid stealing some make-up?
When the girl walked out, Shyla reached out and snagged her by the arm. The girl gave a pathetic squeal and tried to break free. Shyla tightened her grip and firmly pressed the girl up against the brick wall.
The girl’s eyes widened.
“Let me go or I’ll scream right now,” she said, “let me go.”
“Go, ahead. Scream. The cops will come and see that I’ve just caught someone stealing.”
The girl stopped squirming. Her eyes darted around and her chest heaved up and down. Shyla could feel her fear.
“What are you talking about? I didn’t steal nothin’.”
“The hell you didn’t. I saw you put at least three items in your purse on aisle 12. All we have to do is go inside and ask to see the video footage. They may not look at their footage much in a town like this, but trust me, it’ll be there if we ask.”
The girl panicked and put all of her strength into trying to free herself from Shyla’s grip. She grunted and strained. Shyla was surprised at how strong the girl was. But she held firm and shoved her back against the wall.
“Jesus, okay, okay. I stole the damn make-up. What do you want from me? You want me to give it back? Fine. I’ll give it back.”
Shyla held tight.
“I just want to talk to you for second, okay. If I let go, I don’t want you to run off. I’ll catch you again before you hit the sidewalk. You understand?”
The girl glanced toward the sidewalk and back again, clearly thinking over her options.
“I understand,” she said.
Shyla slowly loosened her grip. When she was sure the girl wasn’t going to try to bolt she stepped a half a step back and took a closer look. She had on thick, dark eye make-up and pink blush on her round cheeks. Her lips were painted dark red and set in a frown. She was much younger than Shyla had initially guessed - too young to be out in the middle of the night engaging in illegal activities.
“How old are you?” Shyla asked.
“Bite me, lady. I don’t have to tell you shit. If you want me to give back the stuff fine, but I don’t got to tell you nothin’.”
Shyla crossed her arms and stood her ground.
The girl’s frown turned to exasperation.
“Fine,” she said, “I’m thirteen. Who cares? Who in the hell are you?”
“My name’s Shyla. I just moved to town. Well…I lived here a long time ago. But
I just move back this week.”
The girl looked like she couldn’t care less.
“Anyway, I saw you steal that stuff and I thought I’d better warn you against stealing. You might be able to get away with it for a while, but eventually you’ll get caught. When you caught, you’ll go to juvie. The more times you get caught, the more time you’ll earn behind bars. Next thing you know, you’ll have a record and won’t be able to get a job. That means you’ll be hungry and homeless. You want that?”
The girl stared at her, dumbstruck.
“Are you kidding me with this? You’re giving me a lecture on my future. Damn, lady, you are crazy.”
Shyla resisted the urge to giggle. She probably did seem a bit crazy. She probably even looked crazy; all hung-over and in her sweats and ball cap.
“Well, crazy or not, I saw you swipe that stuff. I guess I don’t expect you to take it back. I don’t want to cause a big scene and have the cops out here but I better not catch you stealing again. I live close by and believe me I can smell theft from a mile away. Now go home. It’s late.”
Shyla stepped back to let the girl pass freely. The girl gave a cautious look. “You’re going to let me keep the stuff. All this was just for a warning. Wow, lady, you are nuts.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Suit yourself. See ya around,” she said, sauntering off.
Shyla watched her go and figured she’d be swiping from the Dollar store on the other side of town or at her closest mini-mart by tomorrow.
She realized her queasy stomach had settled and her headache was now a dull drone. Maybe the combination of fresh air and mild excitement had done her system good.
TEN
“So, are you se
ttling in okay?”
Shyla held the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she stirred the canned soup on the stove and talked with Eli Straton.
“As good as can be expected, I guess. Hal’s great and I’m not real sure what to make of Shawn and Jason yet. They have done a lot on their end here though so I got to give ‘em credit for that.”
“Now, see there, I told you they’d be fine. So what’s you’re next move?”
Shyla sipped on the soup and burned her tongue.
“Ouch…Well, apparently, Victor skeet shoots at a range in town every Saturday morning. I’m going to make myself available and see what happens.”
“Good, good, that should do fine. Remember: we want activity, names, links; whatever you can get. When you visit his place, and I know eventually you will, tap his lines. These are the details that are going to get us our leads.”
They were details that Shyla had gone over and over again in her mind.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, “hey, has there been any word on that lead I had with Frank the Crank on the Circo case?”
“Yeah, actually, the guy finally started talking, says he was meeting Frank because Ricardo recommended him for work on that side of town.”
Shyla slammed down the spoon on the counter top.
“I knew it. Ricardo is linked to Victor somehow. Frank is one of Victor’s long-term guys. I bet you anything that Ricardo is working for Victor and recommended his buddy, so Frank goes and makes the meeting to establish pick up of goods. I knew eventually we’d start linking all these small time turds to Victor. No one ever listens to me.”
“Settle down, Shyla, we do listen to you. It’s just that you’re so damn gung ho about it and the rest of us know that it’s not as easy as putting one, two, three, together.”
“No,” she sighed, “but making these links, these connections, is a damn good start. Has there been anything else on that Jane Doe who was found with the pig swill?”
“Not yet, but we’ll have something soon, I’m sure.”
“Okay,” Shyla said, “well let me know.”
“Will do. Good luck with your skeet shooting on Saturday.”
“Thanks, I’m gonna need it. Let’s just hope this guy likes socially inept chicks who’ve got nothing better to do than hang around with a bunch of dudes shooting their guns.”
Eli’s robust laugh filled her right ear.
“You underestimate yourself, Shyla.”
*
Shyla arrived at the skeet range early. Shawn had said that Victor typically met his friends around ten and she wanted to watch him for a bit before she made her move.
She’d never been to a skeet range before, so it was new to her. But she was an excellent shot so she’d definitely have to keep that little talent under wraps. She’d never shot poorly on purpose before so it would prove to be interesting.
Normally, she would have dressed in ratty jeans and a worn t-shirt. But seeing as she wanted to draw Victor’s attention, she’d decided on jeans which flattered her figure and a cute, white, button down shirt. She kept the first button open to accentuate her chest and perked up the collar just enough to be flirty. Her chestnut hair was tied back as usual, but she’d applied a clear gloss to her lips.
She was talking with an instructor when Victor and his crew showed up. They set up at the station just twenty feet down from her. She listened to the instructor but kept Victor in her periphery. She knew he and his friends were already looking her direction. Of course she would draw attention. She wasn’t the only female there - there was one with her husband on the far end of the field - but she was the only one there alone. And she knew that she wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, but she’d been known to turn a head or two.
“You want to hold it tight to your shoulder, like this. If you don’t you’ll be on your butt and you’ll have a nice sized bruise on your shoulder. You understand?”
Shyla turned toward Chad, her instructor.
“Yeah, okay. I understand. Tight to my shoulder.”
A shiver ran down her spine when she heard a smooth, deep voice call out.
“Hey, Chad,” it said, “are you going to introduce your friend.”
She turned to see Victor Champlain walking toward them with a sideways grin on his face. He was talking to Chad but he was looking directly at her.
“Oh, hey, Victor. Yeah, sure. This is Shyla. I’m giving her a lesson. She wants to learn.”
Victor stood four feet away with his hands nestled casually in the front pockets of his green cargo pants. The smile on his face was charming. His skin was tan and his eyes were gray.
“Well, hello, Shyla,” he said, extending his right hand, “what makes you want to learn to skeet shoot?”
She’d already prepared her answer.
“Oh, you know. I’m new in town. City girl. I moved here for a new job. I’m not used to the country and I’m a little freaked out. I thought maybe I should learn to shoot a gun.”
She released his hand.
“Well, that’s what shooting ranges are for. This here’s a bit more complicated. It’s a sport.”
Shyla gave a shy smile.
“Oh, well, maybe I should have checked that out first. I just thought…oh, I don’t know what I thought. I feel dumb now.”
Victor stepped forward.
“Hang on now,” he said, “don’t feel dumb. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a hard time. I think it’s great that you want to learn something new and are taking the initiative to do it. People don’t do that enough in my opinion. They just talk about what they want to do and don’t actually do it. Good for you.
“I’m Victor. I’m fairly new in town as well.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I moved her about a little over a month ago. I love it. It’s gorgeous and it’s away from the hectic pace of the city.”
“Oh, I loved the city. I miss it. I’m from Seattle.”
“You do? Then why’d you move?”
Shyla scuffed her toes in the dirt and looked up at him under her lashes.
“Oh, well, my company downsized because of the economy. I had to look for work. This was the only thing I found. But that’s okay. I like it here so far. I just miss the city is all.”
“Hey, Vic, quit flirting and get your butt back over here. We have a skeet match about to start.”
Victor didn’t turn to answer his buddy. He just ignored him. He kept his eyes on Shyla.
“Hey, Chad, why don’t you let me show Shyla the ropes.”
“Uh, well, she paid her fee,” he said nervously, “she has an hour lesson.”
Victor turned and gave him a calm, icy stare.
“That’s fine, Chad,” he said, “you can keep your fee. I’m not trying to steal your business. Just your client and I’m sure Shyla won’t mind. Let’s let her decide.”
Victor turned to Shyla; she was amused. True to his reputation, he was clearly used to calling the shots and having everyone bend to his beck and call. He would not be taking no for an answer. Normally his pompous attitude would have turned her off, but since he was falling into her snare, she gave another shy grin.
“I don’t mind. But your friends might.”
She looked over his shoulder toward his group and her eyes landed on one in particular. He was taller than the others and his shoulders were wide. His stance was set and he didn’t move an inch. He only stared. She met his gaze for only a second but it was long enough to send another shiver down her spine. This must be the body guard, she thought.
“They’ll be just fine without me,” Victor shrugged.
He turned to the men.
“You guys go on and go the first round,” he shouted, “I’ll sit it out. I’ve made a new friend. I’ll be over in a bit.”
Shyla watched the body guard. He stood, frozen, watching them from a distance, even when the others started moving about and preparing for their shoot. She turned away and focused on Victor.
An hour’s wort
h of small talk and flirting later, Shyla was confident that she had Victor right where she wanted him. The lesson was unnecessary but she allowed him to wrap his arms around her while he showed her how to properly hold her rifle. She desperately wanted to dislike him, but to her discomfort, his charm was quite captivating.
She reminded herself that he was a very dangerous man who engaged in a plethora of illegal and sordid activities. And she was a cop with a job to do.
Meanwhile, she was quite aware of the way his body guard watched them. That, too, was unsettling. She could feel him observing and evaluating.
“Pull,” she said, aiming and firing, making sure to shoot high and to the left.
“That was a lot better,” Victor said, “and you’re holding your gun perfectly now, making sure the recoil doesn’t hurt you.”
“Yeah? Well, I still missed and my shoulder is starting to hurt a bit.”
She rubbed the spot where she had nestled the butt of the gun.
Victor stepped forward and gently caressed the top of her shoulder. A seductive grin crossed his lips.
“You might be a bit sore tonight. How about I take you out to dinner and take your mind off the pain.”
Shyla hesitated.
“Uh, well…I don’t know…”
“Oh, come on, kiddo. I’m new in town. You’re new in town. I’ve got no one but those goons to keep me company. I would enjoy nothing more than to entertain a pretty girl for the evening.”
Shyla’s gut reaction to the usage of the word “kiddo” was visceral and brutal anger. She hated the term. It was one her father had used. She suppressed the urge to suddenly punch Victor in the face. Some of his earlier charm had instantly waned.
“Well, you did give me a good lesson in skeet shooting, so I guess I owe you. Dinner would be nice. Are you cooking?”
“Cooking? Me?” Victor beamed, “Not a chance. But I have a cook who could fix up something exceptional. I was going to take you somewhere in town, but your idea is so much better. I live on a nice piece of land at the bottom of the mountain. It’s gorgeous at sunset. You’ll love it. I’ll pick you up around six-ish?”