Thread of Innocence (Joe Tyler Mystery #4) (18 page)

THIRTY EIGHT

“I was starting to think I wasn't going to hear from you,” Chuck Winslow said.

“
Just takes me some time to take people up on their offers,” I said.

Darkness hovered over the eastern edge of the California desert and I could see the lights in Brawley off in the distance as we crested the highway and descended down into the desert valley.

“You gonna tell me what we're doing?” he asked.

“
No,” I said. “Do I need to?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Just tell me what you need from me.”

I'd sat in the darkened living room for awhile, thinking about my options. I hadn't called Lasko because I didn't want him to talk me out of going. And I also didn't want to get him into any more trouble than I'd already managed. But I didn't want to go to Brawley alone, either. I was trying to be smart. At least as smart as I could be.

So I'd finally taken Chuck up on his offer to help.

I called him, asked if I could come pick him up, then jumped in the car and headed out before I could talk myself out of anything. True to his word, Chuck was ready and got in the car, ready to help however I needed him. I wasn't sure yet how I was going to need him, but if anything, it was nice to have the company.

“
It won't be much,” I said. “And I'll keep the ugly stuff away.”

“
You don't have to keep anything away, Joe.”

“
I know. Thanks. But the less you know the better.”

He started to say something, then stopped. Then he shrugged his big shoulders. “You're the leader.”

I nodded, my thoughts already shifting to the reason for our drive. Mosaic Farvar was the one guy I felt actually had contact with Elizabeth and he hadn't told me and Lasko anything. He was a bad, bad guy and I'd let him off easily, even when I knew he had an answer to give me.

I wasn't going to leave without an answer this time.

I retraced the path Lasko and I had taken before. The cul-de-sac was still empty and Farvar's house was unlit, all of the windows dark. I passed the cul-de-sac and as soon it was out of view in my rearview mirror, I pulled to the curb and parked. I checked my phone and tucked it into the pocket of my jeans. I reached across Chuck, opened the glove box and pulled out my gun. It felt heavy in my hand. I checked the safety, then leaned forward and slid into the waistband at the back of my jeans.

“This is where I ask again what we're doing,” Chuck said, eyeing the gun.

“
We aren't doing anything,” I said. “I'm going to go visit with a guy. You are going to stay here.”

“
That's it?” Chuck asked, raising his eyebrows. “I'm supposed to sit here?”

I pointed over my shoulder. “There's a house back there in the cul-de-sac. Only one that's got someone living in it. I'm going there. Give me 30 minutes inside. If I don't come out, you drive back to Coronado and call a San Diego cop named Paul Lasko.”

“Joe,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm not much for this Mission Impossible shit, alright? What's going on?”

“
Keep an eye on the street,” I said. “You see anyone turn into the cul-de-sac or whatever, get the hell out of here.”

“
I'm not gonna leave you,” he said. “We're in the fucking desert.”

“
I'll be fine.”

He stared out the window for a minute, then shook his head. “Look. I meant what I said. I'm here to help you, Joe. Whatever that means. I'm not stupid. You don't pick me up, drive to Brawley and pull a gun out of the glove compartment because we're gonna go grocery shopping.” He paused. “If there's some piece of shit out there that was involved with Elizabeth, go do what you need to do. I'm with you. Whatever happens here, stays here.” He paused again. “But there's no way in hell I'm leaving you here.”

It struck me that maybe if I hadn't been so hard-headed and stubborn and withdrawn for so long, a friend like Chuck might've been able to help me find Elizabeth sooner. I hadn't trusted anyone and that had been a mistake.

“
Okay,” I said. “Just watch where I go. Thirty minutes. If I don't come out, then come check it out. Anyone shows up, don't let 'em into the house.”

Chuck nodded. “Got it.”

“If you need me, you're gonna have to come get me.” I paused. “You're sure you're cool with that? Because you're right. I'm not going grocery shopping.”

“
Do what you need to do,” he said. “I'm cool with it all.”

THIRTY NINE

I opened the car door and stepped out. The air was colder than I expected, dry. I shut the door and listened. It was eerily quiet. The desert was different than the city, the roar of cars and muted, the sounds of crickets and other night creatures noticeably absent. I looked in the window at Chuck and pointed in the direction I was going. He nodded and twisted in his seat to watch me.

I walked quickly on the sidewalk back to the cul-de-sac, crossed the street and came up on the side of Farvar's house. I moved along the side, then opened a wooden gate to the back of the property, staying close to the house. The back yard was a small rectangle of dead grass and neglect. I found a window on the backside of the house and there was a small glow on the other side. I put my ear near the exterior of the house and barely made out a couple of voices and then laughter.

A television.

Someone was home.

I went back to the front, thought for a moment, then knocked on the front door. Farvar already knew me. He had no reason to keep me out. I hadn't threatened him or done anything that would make him fear me when Lasko and I had come the first time.

I heard footsteps behind the door.

Farvar opened the door and squinted at me. He wore a pair of corduroy shorts and that was it. A tattoo of a panther stared at me from his left shoulder and he held a half empty bottle of Bud Light in his right hand.

“
The fuck you doing back here, Mr. Ex-Cop?” he asked with a sneer. “I thought we did all of our talking.”

“
I had one more question,” I said.

He snickered, then held the bottle to his lips. “Well, fucking ask me because I'm busy.”

I planted my back foot and drove my fist right into his gut. A fine mist of beer erupted from his mouth and he dropped the bottle, the glass shattering into large, jagged pieces. He staggered back, his hands clutching at his stomach and I shoved him with both hands. He toppled over backwards and I shut the door behind me.

I patted him down while he writhed on the floor. I pulled out a wad of cash from one of his pockets and tossed it on the floor next to him. There was nothing else on him. I glanced at the television, the only light in the otherwise darkened room. Some reality show where a guy with a beard was talking to the camera, then chuckling at his own joke.

“What the fuck?” Farvar mumbled, his knees to his chest. “What the fuck?”

“
What the fuck is right,” I said. “Our conversation is going to go a little differently this time. You hear me?”

“
Fuck you,” Farvar snarled.

I took a step back, then swung my foot forward as hard as I could, digging my toe deep into his side. He howled and rolled to his side.

“Take note,” I said. “There is no cop here this time. Just me and you. And I'm prepared to do whatever I need to do to get what I want from you.”

He was still rocking back and forth on his side, his arms wrapped around his body.

“Have you ever taken or sold a child?” I asked.

“
Man, you can...” he started to stay.

I feinted like I was going to kick his ribs again. He bucked, raising his head off the floor. I pivoted slightly and swung my foot into the side of his head. His head snapped away from me and his entire face screwed up in pain, his hands coming up to his head now.

“I'm not screwing around,” I said. “And I can do this all night. No one is coming to save you.”

He was breathing heavy, his chest heaving up and down. His left hand was clamped tightly over his left ear. He had one eye open, looking at me.

“Have you ever taken or sold a child?” I asked again.

He hesitated, then said “Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

“
About which one?” he said.

“
All of them.”

He frowned, still grabbing at his ear. “Come on. How am I gonna do that?”

“You doing the taking or selling?”

“
Both, dude. Both. Can I sit up?”

I nodded.

He pushed himself slowly, rubbed one more time at his ear, then leaned back on his hands.

“
Both,” he said. “I've done both.”

I didn't say anything.

Farvar shrugged. “Look, man. Money's money. Somebody brings me a job, I take it. I don't give a shit who it is. If I can do it, I do it. Gotta eat, dude.”

“
Maybe try shoplifting,” I said. “You're done with kids.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Whatever you say. And shoplifting won't pay like kids.”

The anger was welling up inside of me. I'd been around plenty of people who had no regard for the safety and well-being of children. But Farvar was proving himself to be a special kind of asshole. The kind that continued to operate without getting caught.

“
Think back,” I said. “In Coronado. In San Diego. Were you involved with a girl there?”

He shrugged. “I don't know.”

I pulled the gun from my waistband and aimed it at the middle of his face. “Think hard.”

He didn't look frightened in any way by the gun. Instead, he laughed.

“Again? This is like deja fucking vu,” he said, frowning at me like I was stupid. “I told you last time, man. You want information it's going to cost you money.”

“
Remember that girl I told you about last time? The girl you thought you might remember?” I held the gun steady on him. “She was my daughter.”

Something flickered through his eyes and I saw, for the first time, a fleeting moment of fear, like he'd realized that maybe he'd finally run into someone who was angry enough to do something to him.

He was correct in that assumption.

The flicker passed, though, replaced by the arrogance again. “Look, man. I don't know. What you said, that was a long time ago.”

“You better think,” I said. “Or you won't walk out of here.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You'll kick my ass and I'll wish I was never alive.” He shook his head. “You don't fucking get it.”

“Tell me what I don't get.”

The glow of the television illuminated his ugly face in the dark. “This is what's gonna happen. Either you're gonna pay me or I'm not gonna tell you shit. You seem like you don't wanna pay, so whatever. So you're gonna beat the shit out of me. Then you'll leave. But guess what?” A smile creased his face. “I'm gonna heal up. And I'll still have the information you want. And you won't.” The smile turned into something else, something uglier, a little more evil. “And I'm gonna keep doing my thing.”

He was trying to make me angry. It was working. But I needed him to keep talking before I kicked his teeth in.

“
Okay,” I said. “Tell me this. You've worked out of San Diego before?”

“
I'm not giving you any names, ex-cop.”

“
I'm not asking for names. Have you been involved with kids out of San Diego?”

He thought for a moment, touching his lip with his finger, then examining the finger for blood. “Yeah. Sure.”

“And you've done both?” I said. “You've snatched the kids and you've also had them brought to you?”

He nodded, still looking at his finger.

“Janine Bandencoop,” I said.

His eyes started to move in my direction, but he caught himself before they got all the way to me, pretending like he was still trying to see if his lip was bleeding.

But I'd seen it.

“
So you know Janine,” I said. “You probably get the kids to her. Over in Phoenix.”

Again, there was a flash of recognition through his eyes before he could cancel it out.

But I'd seen it.

“
She probably doesn't know you or your name,” I said. “Which is good for you. Anonymity. But sure seems like you know her.”

He licked his lips and shrugged. “I know a lot of people.”

“I'll bet you do,” I said. “One more question.” I paused, making sure I had his attention. “Any cops bring you kids?”

He stared at me for a long moment and then a thin, hideous smile split the bottom half of his face.

He raised an eyebrow. “They ain't all so good, are they?”

I squatted down next to him and he jerked backward slightly, nervous as I took up the space in front of him.

“I want a name,” I said. “And don't tell me you don't know. I want the name of the cop that brought my daughter to you.”

He chewed on his bottom lip, still holding my gaze. He cleared his throat. “I think his name was...” He stopped again like he was trying to remember. Then his eyes lit up and he smiled. “I think his name was Sargent Go Fuck Yourself.”

I brought the gun around and smashed it into his jaw. He fell to the side, not completely out, but close to it.

I stood, my heart pounding. I was going to figure out a way to make him talk. I wasn't going to leave until I got it out of him and I didn't care how long it took.

Or what I had to do.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out as I thought about what I wanted to do.

A blocked number flashed on the screen.

I answered. “Hello?”

“Mr. Tyler. This is Mario Valdez. Am I catching you at a bad time?”

I looked down at Farvar, whose eyes were open and trying to focus. “No. Not a bad time at all.”

“After our conversation this afternoon, I spoke with several of my colleagues about your situation,” Valdez said. “As you might imagine, they were somewhat surprised by some of the things you relayed to me.”

I doubted they were surprised by anything, but I played along. “Of course.”

“As I said to you, we are not in the business of harming children,” Valdez said. “I want to reiterate that and tell you that my colleagues are in complete agreement with me. Children are not and have never been a part of our business.”

“
I believe you.”

“
And it is troubling to us that someone might have used your daughter in connection with a transaction or deal we had in place. Very troubling. We are not comfortable having our names attached to such a thing. Had we known, we would've dealt with it in our own way.”

Farvar rolled onto his back, blood leaking out of his mouth, his eyes glassy, but starting to focus.

“So after speaking to my colleagues, we have decided that your request is a fair one,” Valdez said.

My heard hammered against the inside of my chest. I forced myself to breathe slowly.

And Valdez said the name I'd been waiting to hear.

I didn't respond. I focused on my breathing. On slowing my heart rate down.

Because I finally had what I wanted.

What I needed.

“Mr. Tyler?” Valdez asked. “Are you still there?”

“
I'm here,” I said.

“
Does that name mean anything to you?”

“
Yes. It does.”

“
I see,” Valdez said. “Then I trust you will do with it whatever you deem necessary.”

“
Yes.”

“
And whatever is done, please understand. We will be supportive of the resolution.”

“
Thank you.”

“
You're welcome,” Valdez said and hung up.

I shoved the phone back in my pocket and stared down at Farvar, with more clarity than I'd looked at anyone or any thing in the last decade.

“I ain't giving you no name,” Farvar said, staring at me. “Don't matter what you do.”

“
I know,” I said. “But I have the name now.”

Farvar looked at me, confused, his brows screwed up together. “Huh?”

“I have what I need.”

He looked at me like I was crazy, then smiled. “Good. Then get the fuck out of my house.”

“So you can go back to work, right?” I asked, staring down at him, the television still illuminating his face. “Get back to business?”

“
Just get the fuck out of my house.”

The thing with Farvar was that he would go right back to business. There was no conscience. There was no thought. He'd do what he needed to do in order to survive. And everything he would do would hurt somebody.

I wasn't going to let that happen.

“
You sold my daughter,” I said.

And I'm not sure what he saw in my expression, but he saw something because finally, for the first time, he looked genuinely afraid.

“Look, man, I...”

“
You probably kept her here for a day or so,” I said, cutting him off. “Before you drove to Phoenix. She was probably crying. Scared out of her mind. And you were probably a serious dick, telling her to shut her mouth, to stop crying. Or you'd hurt her. Or maybe you did actually hurt her. And maybe that's why she can't remember anything because you terrified her.”