The Last Bodyguard Page 17

“Tell me where I can find her.”

  Soothe’s eyes opened again, but now they were completely without focus. She was looking off into the middle distance.

  “I already told you, Hanger,” she said.

  58

  Ty snatched up his phone as two EMTs hurried past the car on the way into the apartment building. Behind them, two patrol cars pulled up.

  “She’s down at the Greyhound bus station,” said Lock. “Or she’s already got on the bus for LA. I think Hanger knows about it too.”

  “You want me to wait for you?” asked Ty.

  “No time,” said Lock. “Call me when you get down there. I’m going to try to slip out of here. I’ll meet you down there.”

  Ty had already started the engine, one eye on the cops. Lock might get caught and having to kill valuable time answering questions, but he couldn’t afford to do the same.

  “Got it,” said Ty, easing slowly out on to the street.

  At the end of the street, he tapped the details of the Greyhound terminal into his phone. He pulled out, picking up speed as two patrol cars raced towards him, heading in the opposite direction.

  Glancing down at the phone, he read the expected time of arrival. He would be there in twelve minutes. He figured he could get that number down to nine.

  Ty buried the gas pedal to the floor. The car lurched forward.

  59

  By the time Kristin had found her way to the Greyhound Station across from the Fremont, the early afternoon bus headed for Los Angeles had just left. She’d missed it by a couple of minutes and now was a three hour wait until she caught the next one. The journey itself would take around six hours with only a couple of stops.

  She bought a ticket at the window with the cash Soothe had given her and went to stand at the gate. A security guard appeared and told her she couldn’t wait there and anyway it was a long time to stand.

  There was a seating area, but most of the people sitting down looked sketchy. In fact, the whole place reeked of urine and stale sweat, and she’d had enough of both those smells to last a lifetime.

  She walked back outside. There were more homeless people out here. There seemed to be homeless people everywhere in Vegas. It occurred to her that, technically, she was probably one of them.

  Hungry, and still with a few dollars left over, she walked a block to a Chick-fil-A and ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and a strawberry milkshake. She took a seat by the window. If she ate slowly, she figured she could kill at least an hour in here where it was clean, and no one would bother her.

  She needed time to think. Not about what had happened over the past week or longer, but just to process what had happened today.

  Kristin wasn’t sure she even wanted to go home. She didn’t know how being home would even work, or if her mom would be happy to see her. Would she be welcome? And what about school? How would she be able to walk back into class and pretend like nothing was different? Like she wasn’t different.

  The more she thought about it, the more overwhelming it all seemed. She had left home one person and now she was another.

  But Soothe had been insistent that she had to go, that somehow Kristin was in danger if she stayed. That didn’t make much sense to her either. She was in danger every time she got into some strange guy’s car. She was in danger every time a man walked into a motel room to have sex with her. Hanger wasn’t there, and Soothe wasn’t always close by either.

  A guy passed by her table as she chewed a mouthful of chicken. She knew straight away from the way he was dressed that he was a pimp. She could spot a pimp now. It wasn’t how they dressed so much as how they carried themselves, and how they looked at you.

  He came back around, and she kept her eyes on the table, just like Hanger had taught her. She was still one of Hanger’s hoes and a ho didn’t make eye contact with another pimp, not ever, not unless she was looking to change pimps.

  “Hey, baby,” he said, standing over her. “You just get into town?”

  She ignored him.

  “Like that, huh?”

  She kept looking down at the table until finally he took the hint and moved off. She watched him as he left the restaurant, rolling his shoulders with his wrists cocked, walking in a way that only pimps walked.

  Outside she watched a couple of girls, one of them not much older than her, do some low-key hustling for business. A month ago, she would have looked at them and had no idea that was what they were at.

  It was like she had stepped into a completely secret world that only the people in it could see, even though it was right there, hidden in plain sight. Maybe the only other people who could see it were cops, and she had been told to be more afraid of them than of the Johns. Cops were the enemy. They were the ones, according to Soothe, who took you off the street and put you in jail, which was even worse than being out here on the streets where you could make money, and get high and live how you wanted to live.

  Kristin finished up her food. She got a refill. She could spin that out for another while, then she’d have to leave. She only had a few dollars left and as she watched the girls outside, she wondered if maybe she could turn a trick before she got on the bus. That way she’d have some money for something else to eat when the bus stopped in Barstow.

  Just one last time, she told herself, as she left the restaurant, making sure to check the time on the clock behind the counter. She had two hours until she had to catch the bus.

  60

  Pushing through the doors into the Greyhound bus station, Hanger brushed off a homeless woman begging for food. Catching the look on his face, she quickly melted away.

  A quick scan of the waiting area didn’t turn up any sign of Kristin. He walked over to the gate where the next bus to Los Angeles was due to leave. She wasn’t there either.

  A security guard put his hand out. “You have to take a seat in the waiting area until the bus boards.”

  “Sorry, brother, I was just looking for my daughter. She forgot something. I wanted to catch her before she left,” said Hanger.

  The guard looked like he didn’t believe him.

  “I think she’s getting this next bus, but she might have caught the earlier one.”

  “Uh-uh,” said the guard. He gave off the impression of a man who wasn’t all that interested.

  “You here when that bus boarded?”

  “Yeah, I was here.”

  Hanger gave the guard a quick description of Kristin.

  “Don’t think she was on that one, but it was busy.”

  That part didn’t matter too much. Hanger knew that the bus stopped in Barstow and he’d already arranged for someone to be there when it did. If they saw Kristin, they would pick her up for him and drive her back.

  “I’ll go take a look around,” said Hanger. “Thanks for your help.”

  “No problem.”

  The guard watched him with suspicion as he moved away from the gate. Hanger was starting to regret speaking to him. In a situation like this, it was better to fly under the radar and not do anything that could make you memorable.

  He did a couple more laps around the inside of the building. He kept an eye on the door leading into the ladies' bathroom for ten more minutes. He figured that no one in their right mind would stay longer than that in a Greyhound terminal bathroom.

  Finally, satisfied that Kristin wasn’t here, he walked back outside to scope the area on foot. If he didn’t see her, he’d circle back in time for boarding to start.

  If she was getting the bus like Soothe had told him, then he’d see her. With a little luck she wouldn’t make too much of a fuss and he could get her into his car without any more drama.

  He was still shaken by the turn today had taken. Soothe was the last person he’d expected to betray him. That’s why he’d done what he had. He wanted to make sure that if he couldn’t pimp her, then no one else would either.

  He’d been in the game long enough to know that every single girl had their limit. There were no e
xceptions that he’d ever seen. The only thing that troubled him was that usually he saw it coming. They’d show up late for work, they’d go missing, they’d start drinking a lot more or using more. Usually there were plenty of signs along the way. But with Soothe this sudden pang of conscience seemed to have come almost out of the blue.

  No matter, he told himself. He had a couple of other girls who’d be happy to take over the role of bottom girl in his stable. Now what counted was finding Kristin and handing her over to his buyer. Once that was done, she wouldn’t be his problem anymore.

  Hanger walked down Main Street, he ducked into a couple of the casinos. There were a couple of fast-food places. He checked those too, but there was no sign of Kristin.

  He kept moving through the shoals of tourists and gamblers. Then, when he was just about to head back to the Greyhound terminal and wait it out, he saw her.

  She was standing across the street from him. At first his eyes had moved straight past her. She’d changed her hair, but not how it was supposed to have been changed. He’d told Soothe that she needed to be blonde, but her hair was red, and it had been cut short. That was one more mess he’d have to fix, but first he had to catch her.

  He waited at the crossing, his eyes never leaving her as he sunk behind a group of tourists. She was waiting to cross in the other direction. She was heading straight for him.

  He smiled. This couldn’t have been more perfect.

  61

  Ty pushed through the doors of the Greyhound Station. The smell hit him like a wave of heat from a blast furnace. He didn’t know how people could sit for hours in a place like this, never mind work here.

  He collared the first Greyhound employee he saw. They pointed the gate out to him. He walked over to it, keeping an eye out for Kristin as he moved. He didn’t see her, or any other teenage girls for that matter. That was good. It meant that if she was in here, someone would have been more likely to notice her.

  “Hey, brother, I’m looking for a kid. Female. White. About fourteen. Yay high,” said Ty, holding a hand beneath to chest to approximate her height. “I think she’s getting the bus to LA.”

  The security guard stared at him.

  “Don’t tell me, let me guess, you’re her father?”

  62

  By the time Kristin saw him, it was already too late. She put her head down, hoping he’d miss her, but the way he was moving directly towards her, looking straight at her, told her that wasn’t going to happen.

  Pivoting on her heel, she turned around, walking in the other direction. The next thing she knew, his arm had linked through hers. He fell into step with her, not saying anything, not making a fuss as he guided her back to the corner.

  There were people all around them. She could scream. She thought about it. But she was too scared. No, scared wasn’t the word. She was terrified.

  Back on the side of the street she’d just crossed, he pulled her to a halt. She didn’t dare look at him. She didn’t want to see the expression on his face. Part of her wanted to close her eyes and hope that when she opened them again that the last minute would have been a terrible nightmare.

  She should have hurried down here, made that first bus. Now it was too late.

  “My car’s just down here,” he said, sounding eerily calm. “You start screaming, or making a fuss, and I’ll gut you like I just gutted Soothe. You understand me?”

  His hand pinched her elbow, shaking it.

  “I understand,” she told him.

  He walked her to the end of the block and then around a corner. The BMW was there. He made sure to stay with her all the way around the car. He opened the passenger door. She got in.

  “Don’t fucking move,” he said, slamming the car door closed, walking around and getting in next to her.

  As the doors locked with a clunk, her heart sank. She’d had her chance to run, to yell, to do something, but she’d been so jolted by seeing him appear from nowhere that she had frozen like a rabbit in headlights. Now the chance was gone, and it was just the two of them, alone, in his car.

  He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. He didn’t switch on the engine.

  Silence settled between them. He stared straight ahead.

  A minute passed. Then two.

  “You want to see a picture of your friend?” he said finally.

  Kristin didn’t respond.

  He held his phone up, angling it so she could see the screen. She turned her head, looking away.

  “Maybe it’s for the best you don’t look. Don’t want you throwing up in here,” he said, putting his phone away.

  Reaching over, he grabbed her hair and yanked her head back.

  “We’re gonna have to get you a wig.”

  He hit the button. The engine turned over. He pulled out into traffic.

  “Where are we going?” she asked him.

  He ignored the question and kept driving. No one could see them through the heavy tint on the windows. For the first time, as she watched the streets busy with people, she felt truly like a prisoner.

  “Where are you taking me?” she repeated.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll like this next guy.”

  “Why? Why will I like him?”

  “He’s a magician,” said Hanger. He started laughing. It was a crazy laugh, the laugh of a maniac or someone who had completely lost their mind. “He makes girls like you disappear.”

  63

  His clothes soaked in blood, Lock watched as the ambulance pulled away from outside the apartment building. He prayed that the outcome for Soothe would be better than for Angie, but he doubted it would be. She had lost one hell of a lot of blood. Despite his best efforts, she had blacked out completely before the paramedics reached her.

  His phone pinged with a call from Ty.

  “Give me something good, Ty,” he said to his partner.

  “She didn’t make the bus, and I don’t think she was on the earlier one either.”

  Lock put the phone to his chest and looked up at the sky. It seemed like every time they got close to Kristin, she slipped through their fingers.

  “Hanger was here looking for her too, but I’m not sure he found her. The bus hasn’t left just yet, so I’ll hang out here in case she shows, or he turns back up.”

  “If he shows, keep hold of him,” said Lock.

  “Oh, no question,” said Ty. “It will be my absolute pleasure to lay hands on this guy.”

  “What do you think? If he doesn’t have her and she didn’t make the bus.”

  “She must be out there somewhere,” said Ty.

  “I’ll let the cops know. They can check the CCTV where you are and see if they can spot her.”

  “Okay,” said Ty. “I’ll call you when the bus leaves. If she doesn’t show for it, then I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

  “Okay, brother.”

  With the phone call wrapped up, Lock walked back over to an unmarked Las Vegas PD car. Maybe Kristin would show at the last second and Ty would be able to grab her. Maybe Hanger would show too, and Ty would be able to deal with him. And maybe Lock could win a million on the slots. Right now, the odds of any of those happening seemed roughly equal.

  Standing next to the unmarked car was a Detective from the LVMPD’s Vice Unit by the name of Beth Adorno. She’d identified herself to Lock shortly after he’d explained what he was doing there to the first uniforms on the scene. Adorno had told him that she worked with the CETF or Child Exploitation Task Force.

  The CETF was made up of Detectives from the Metro PD’s Vice Unit and agents from the FBI. The story he’d told the uniforms about his and Ty’s hunt for Kristin Miller had prompted her to drive down to speak with him, something he was more than happy to do.

  She pushed off from where she was leaning against the back of her car. She was an athletic looking woman in her early forties and was dressed in sneakers, jeans and t-shirt from a local CrossFit gym. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail.


  “What’s your deal, Mr. Lock?” she asked him. “You’re like a private investigator from LA?”

  “Close, but not exactly.”

  He gave her a quick rundown of his involvement, carefully editing out any parts that a by-the-book member of law enforcement might not approve of.

  “I’m just trying to find this kid and return her to her family. As soon as I’ve done that, I’ll be out of your hair,” he told her.

  “Good to know,” she said. “This work is already hard enough without enthusiastic amateurs jumping into the mix.”

  He ignored the jibe. He would have described himself as more focused than enthusiastic, but he would be happy to concede the amateur part. Trafficking was not his area of expertise, and he wasn’t going to pretend that it was.

  “What’s the name of this pimp that brought her out here?” asked Adorno.

  “His street name’s Hanger,” said Lock. He spelled it out letter by letter.

  “Hanger?”

  “Ring a bell?”

  “More than one,” said Adorno. “He’s been on our radar for a while now, but we’ve never been able to get close. We’ve picked up some of his girls over the last few years, but they were way too scared to give us anything apart from a lot of attitude. It’s tough to prosecute someone when the victims see us as the enemy.”

  “That could change if Soothe pulls through.”

  Adorno chewed at the side of her lip. “Maybe.”

  “You had any word on her condition?” asked Lock.

  “She was taken to UMC, but that’s all I know. From what patrol said, it’s going to be fifty-fifty whether she makes it or not.”

  She folded her arms. “So how long have you been after Hanger?”

  “A week, give or take.”

  “And what do you know about him?”

  “He’s highly mobile, just like you said. He’s ruthless. He’s happy to use violence. He has a place in Santa Monica, but I don’t think anyone’s going to find him there anytime soon. Not with all the heat he has on him.”