High Risk Read online

  High Risk

  A Detective Liv DeMarco Thriller

  G.K. Parks

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other concepts are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, establishments, events, and locations is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author.

  Copyright © 2021 G.K. Parks

  A Modus Operandi imprint

  All rights reserved.

  Print ISBN: 978-1-942710-25-7

  Full-length Novels in the Alexis Parker Series:

  Likely Suspects

  The Warhol Incident

  Mimicry of Banshees

  Suspicion of Murder

  Racing Through Darkness

  Camels and Corpses

  Lack of Jurisdiction

  Dying for a Fix

  Intended Target

  Muffled Echoes

  Crisis of Conscience

  Misplaced Trust

  Whitewashed Lies

  On Tilt

  Purview of Flashbulbs

  The Long Game

  Burning Embers

  Thick Fog

  Warning Signs

  Julian Mercer Novels

  Condemned

  Betrayal

  Subversion

  Reparation

  Retaliation

  Hunting Grounds

  Liv DeMarco Novels

  Dangerous Stakes

  Operation Stakeout

  Unforeseen Danger

  Deadly Dealings

  High Risk

  Fatal Mistake

  Lucien Cross Stories

  Fallen Angel

  For my mom and dad

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  Forty

  Forty-one

  Forty-two

  Note from the Author

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  One

  “We need to go.” Carter tugged the balaclava off and stuffed it inside the bag. He peered out the rear window at Star Cleaners. What had they done? He swallowed, eyeing the shattered front door. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Not yet. We have to wait for him.” Diego exhaled and squeezed the steering wheel, sensing waves of anxiety rolling off the man beside him.

  Carter’s eyes darted back and forth. He could hear sirens. They were getting closer. He checked the mirrors. Were those flashing lights? He thought he saw a reflection on the slick streets. “The cops are coming. Don’t you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Diego eyed him curiously. “You feeling okay?”

  “No.” Carter ran a hand down his face and bit his lip. “No one was supposed to be inside. He said no one would be there. It’s a dry cleaner’s. Why would anyone be there at this time of night?”

  Diego swallowed. So the noise he heard had been gunfire. “Calm down.” He kept one eye trained on the side mirror. “What happened?”

  “He’s fucking insane. That’s what happened.” Carter reached into his pocket with shaking hands and pulled out a pre-rolled joint. He held it between his lips while he searched for his lighter. “Diego, man, I’m telling you this was a bad idea. This guy…” He shook his head. “How well do you know him? Shit.”

  “What?”

  “He killed him. Shot him right in the head. Didn’t even think twice about it.” Locating the lighter, Carter held it to the end of the joint just as the back door opened.

  “Put that out,” the third man said, tossing a heavy bag across the seats before climbing in beside it. “We don’t need to risk leaving evidence behind.” He tapped Diego on the shoulder. “Drive.”

  Diego put the car in gear, glancing at Carter from the corner of his eye, but the man in the passenger seat didn’t say or do anything. The unlit joint remained hanging from between his lips while he stared straight ahead, as if he were too afraid to turn around and face the man in the back seat.

  After a few blocks, the man in the back tapped Diego again. “Pull over up ahead. There aren’t any cameras in that alley. We need to ditch the car. Things didn’t go as planned. It’s too hot to drive around in this, unless we want to get caught.”

  “No one wants that.” Diego checked the mirrors, but the streets were empty. He stopped in the alley and turned off the engine. “Did we at least get what we were after?”

  Carter fidgeted in the seat, anxious to run. The bag at his feet contained only cash. That hadn’t been the goal, but Diego wasn’t going to argue about receiving a bonus.

  The man in the back seat smiled. “We got them.” He reached forward and tapped Carter on the shoulder. “Hey, you all right?”

  Carter flinched at his touch. “Uh-huh.”

  “You ain’t acting right. Turn around and look at me.”

  After sucking in another breath, Carter turned in his seat. “What?”

  The man studied his face and searched his eyes. “You ever kill anyone before?”

  “I didn’t kill that guy. You did.”

  The man snickered and shoved the gun into Carter’s hand. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. It was your intel, remember?” Then he gave his nervous accomplice two friendly taps on the cheek. “Don’t worry so much. He was a security guard. He had it coming. And if I hadn’t intervened, that’d be you lying dead on the floor.”

  “Security?” Diego asked. “Why would a dry cleaner’s hire a guard?”

  “Who knows? But someone should have found that out when conducting the research. It would have been nice to know what we were walking into. Maybe things wouldn’t have had to get loud and messy. If you don’t like killing, try to do better next time.” The man stared into Carter’s eyes. “You got it?”

  “Ye-yeah.” Carter swallowed.

  The man smiled at him. “Good.” He tugged the mask off his face and smoothed his staticky hair as best he could. “Let’s wipe the car and torch it. It’ll delay the cops when they come looking, and you know they’ll come looking.”

  Because you left a body behind, Carter thought.

  “Gas can’s in the trunk,” Diego said. “I’ll find us something else.”

  “No,” the man in the back seat said, “the police would expect that once they find the car. Let’s take the subway instead.” He checked his watch. “The trains are running, and the station’s not far from here.”

  “Maybe we should split up,” Carter suggested, fingering the strap on the duffel at his feet.

  The third man eyed Carter. Normally, they’d split up and meet back at the apartment later, but he couldn’t be sure what the Nervous Nelly might do. “No. We’re in this. We stick tog
ether until we see it through.” He tossed a rag into the front seat. “Start wiping. Make sure you don’t leave any prints or DNA behind. The fire should cook everything, but let’s not take any chances.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Carter opened his door and tossed the duffel out.

  The three of them wiped every smooth surface and made sure to empty the interior. Then Diego doused the car in gasoline, and Carter tossed his lighter into the open window. Immediately, flames filled the inside.

  “Now’s a bad time to grow a conscience,” the third man warned as they ducked out of the alley and headed across the street, remaining out of sight of the few street lamps and storefronts with exterior security cameras. “We’re in this now. There’s no turning back. If you have a problem with the way things work, you should have thought about it before.” He shoved Carter against the wall. “Tell me now. Are we going to have a problem?”

  Diego stopped, looking uneasy as he watched the exchange.

  “No problem here.” Carter shoved the third man off of him.

  “Good, because we’re just getting started.”

  * * *

  “What do we have?” I brushed a highlighted tendril behind my ear. I didn’t even have time to tie my hair up before we got the call this morning.

  The officer rubbed one of his eyes. “See for yourself, Detective.”

  I peered through the broken glass. Blood spatter covered the left wall and the potted plant. But from here, I couldn’t see a body. My partner, Detective Brad Fennel, carefully stepped through the broken front door and went around the counter, stopping at the opening.

  “Just one victim?” he asked.

  The officer snorted. “Unless you find more.”

  “Let’s hope not.” Fennel met my eyes. “Hell of a way to start the day.”

  “I’m guessing he probably thought the same thing.” I nodded to the officer and entered the dry cleaner’s. The sign on the back wall offered dry cleaning, laundry, pressing, folding, and free delivery. Pulling on a latex glove, I tugged on the open drawer to the cash register. It was empty. “Money’s gone, assuming the owner left anything in the drawer last night.”

  “We’ll have to ask.” Fennel stood over the victim. “According to responding officers, the vic’s name is Jonathan Gardner.”

  “Yep,” a voice called from behind the curtain that led into the back. A moment later, a crime scene tech popped her head through.

  Simmons, I thought, but I couldn’t recall her first name.

  “Hey, Ellie.” Fennel nodded to her. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “I know.” She winked at him. “I’ve missed those big brown eyes of yours.” She knelt down beside the body. “We couldn’t ID him from his photo on account of most of his face being blown into the wall and that plastic ficus.” She pointed to the spatter, which made my partner turn a sickly yellow-green. He swallowed but held it together. “So we ran his fingerprints.”

  “Does he have a record?” I asked.

  “No,” she looked up at me, “uh…”

  “Liv DeMarco.” I jerked my head toward Fennel. “I’m Brown Eyes’ partner.”

  She laughed. “Nice to meet you, Detective DeMarco.”

  “Yeah, you too.” I crouched down next to her. “Has the coroner been here yet?”

  “No. They’re backed up. So we’re not touching the body. But I’m willing to go out on a limb and say cause of death was a gunshot to the face. The bullet went through Mr. Gardner and right into that wall.” She pointed up at the hole.

  Fennel turned and moved closer to it. It sat level with the tip of his nose. That probably meant Mr. Gardner was just slightly shorter than my partner. So maybe 5’10. Carefully, I picked up the victim’s wallet, which had been dropped beside his body. I checked his stats, not surprised to find my guess accurate. I tossed the wallet to my partner and stood up.

  “You said he doesn’t have a record.” Fennel flipped through the contents. Aside from Gardner’s license and gym membership, the wallet was empty. “So why are his prints in the system?”

  “He works for a security firm. They’re all on record.” Simmons grabbed the edge of the counter to help herself up. “Moonlight Security.” She shifted her gaze from him to me. “You ever heard of them?”

  I shook my head and turned to Fennel.

  “Yeah, maybe.” He closed the empty wallet and handed it to Simmons, who made an evidence bag materialize out of thin air. “So what are we thinking? Robbery gone wrong?”

  She shrugged.

  “Who found the body?” I asked.

  “Mr. Lee, the dry cleaner.” She pointed to the curtain which led to the back. “Sgt. Chambliss is speaking to him now.”

  “In here?” I asked. Normally, we didn’t question suspects in the middle of our crime scene.

  “Lee placed the 9-1-1 call from his office phone. I don’t think the sergeant’s had much luck clearing him out. But we gave the entire place a preliminary sweep. We didn’t find a murder weapon or any indication the killer entered the office. According to Mr. Lee, the office door was still locked when he arrived. I don’t think anything’s missing.”

  Fennel jerked his chin toward the curtain. “We don’t want to miss the party. Lead the way, Liv.”

  I stepped over Mr. Gardner and pulled the curtain aside. “Wow.” The front of the shop was tiny, with standing room for maybe three people on the customer side of the counter. Behind the counter had been a bit more spacious, but it was nothing compared to this.

  Fennel whistled beside me. “Is this what they mean by looking behind the curtain?”

  “I guess so.”

  He took a breath, squinting at the machinery and racks of suspended garments. Each one was covered in cellophane and tagged with an order number. “Fancy operation.” A narrow walkway led past the conveyor belt of clothing and the large machines for cleaning, pressing, and folding. At the end was an office where a thin, bald man sat with his head in his hands while Sgt. Chambliss spoke gently to him.

  Fennel knocked on the doorjamb, and Chambliss turned to us. “Detectives,” he greeted, “this is Arthur Lee. He owns Star Cleaners. He arrived around 5:45 this morning and found Jonathan Gardner dead. He came back here, unlocked the door, and called us. He’s been here ever since. He doesn’t want to go back out there until the body’s been cleared away.” Chambliss gave us a look. He didn’t like this any more than I did.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, stepping into the room.

  Mr. Lee looked up at the sound of my voice. “I knew today was going to be a bad day. My horoscope warned me about this. I just didn’t think it’d be this bad.”

  Chambliss met Fennel’s eyes and jerked his chin toward the door. “Excuse me for just a minute, Mr. Lee. I need to have a word with Detective Fennel. Detective DeMarco will pick up where we left off.”

  “Sure.” Mr. Lee nodded, something he seemed to do more often than a bobblehead doll. Clearly, he was in shock. “As I was telling the sergeant, I don’t know the security guard. Not really. I have a service. A night watchman was included in the deal.”

  “So you don’t know Mr. Gardner?”

  Lee shook his head.

  “How long has he worked here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I stopped writing and looked up from my notepad. “You don’t know?”

  “No, I don’t. That’s what I was saying to your boss.”

  My jaw set, but I didn’t offer a correction to his statement. Sgt. Chambliss wasn’t my boss. And explaining the command structure of the police department would be a waste of time. “Explain that to me.”

  “Like I said, Moonlight Security provides a guard. He comes in at night. They have the details. I don’t know how long that man’s been working here. They’ve assigned several different night watchmen. I didn’t bother paying attention to who’s who.”

  “Okay. Why don’t you tell me when you hired Moonlight Security?”

  His brow furrowed. “Um… th
ree weeks ago?” He turned toward the filing cabinet behind the desk. “I have the contract here somewhere.” He got up and opened the drawer. Automatically, my hand moved to the holstered weapon at my hip and rested on top of it. It never hurt to be safe instead of sorry, but he pulled out a folder and returned to the desk without incident. “Eighteen days ago.” He held out the contract for me to read.

  I skimmed the details. Star Cleaners bought new locks for the front and rear doors and had alarms installed. They also had new security cameras mounted out back and a remote control opener installed for the metal gate to make it easier and safer for the delivery van to get in and out.

  “They offered me a package deal on the night watchman,” Mr. Lee said, “if I upgraded.”

  “Sure, that makes sense, I guess.” I handed back the folder, wondering if I should ask for a copy now or wait until later. “But I’m fuzzy on one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why does a dry cleaner need a night watchman?”

  Mr. Lee’s mouth dropped, and he gawked at me. “To make sure no one breaks in to steal the drugs.”

  Two

  “What?” I couldn’t have heard him right. “Did you say drugs?”

  “Yes.” He gave me a bewildered look. “You passed them on your way in. The dry cleaning chemicals,” he pointed out the door, “they can be huffed. Used as inhalants. They make great gateway drugs. I saw that on one of those primetime news shows. You’re a cop. Don’t you know that?”

  “Have you ever huffed them?”

  He jerked backward as if I slapped him. “God no. Do I look like a drug addict to you?”

  “No, sir,” I said, growing more uncertain of this fact. “But most people wouldn’t think to huff dry cleaning chemicals. Has this been a problem in the past? Have you had a lot of break-ins?”

  “No, but I’ve had problems with a number of employees. They were supposed to be working, and instead, they’d sneak off and get high.”

  “And you caught them huffing the chemicals?”

  “Well, no. But they’d be gone for a few minutes, come back, and y’know, it was obvious they were on something. What else could it have been?”