Unforeseen Danger: A Detective Liv DeMarco Thriller Read online

  Unforeseen Danger

  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 © 2019 G.K. Parks

  A Modus Operandi imprint

  All rights reserved.

  Print ISBN: 978-1-942710-18-9

  Other books by G.K. Parks

  The Liv DeMarco series:

  Dangerous Stakes

  Operation Stakeout

  Unforeseen Danger

  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

  Prequel Alexis Parker Novellas:

  Outcomes and Perspective: The Complete Prequel Series

  Assignment Zero (Prequel series, #1)

  Agent Prerogative (Prequel series, #2)

  The Final Chapter (Prequel series, #3)

  Julian Mercer Novels

  Condemned

  Betrayal

  Subversion

  Reparation

  Retaliation

  For my Aunt Kathy, the greatest aunt in the world.

  Thank you for always encouraging and supporting me and everything I do.

  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

  About the Author

  One

  “Idiot.” He blew into his closed fist. “What did I tell you?”

  “It’ll be okay.” Keith squeezed his eyes shut. “She didn’t get far. I found her.”

  A million thoughts went through the man’s brain. They were almost caught because of Keith, the incompetent moron that he was.

  “I can fix this,” Keith insisted.

  The man glanced behind him. His wife had just finished washing the dishes. Without the water running, he couldn’t risk being overheard. She didn’t know about his side business, and he had to keep it that way. Silently, he left his office and went out the front door, pulling it closed behind him. “That’s right. You are going to fix this. You’re going to fix it right now.”

  Keith didn’t like his boss’s tone. “Sure. I’ll just take her back and put her with the others.”

  “No. She escaped once. What makes you think she won’t do it again?”

  “Umm.” Keith’s insides clenched. He knew he was in trouble. He just didn’t realize how much trouble. “She’ll behave. I’ll take her to the house and tie her up. I’ll lock her in her room. Whatever. She won’t cause any more problems. You have my word.”

  “You’re right. She won’t.” The man waved at his neighbor and went to his car. “There’s only one way to fix this. Do you understand?”

  “But she didn’t get far. She didn’t talk to anyone. No one knows. It’s fine. No harm done. It’d be a waste to get rid of her.”

  “Bullshit. Have you seen the news reports lately? The police are on to you. To your activities. How long do you think it’ll take them to connect you to me? I can’t have that.”

  “My activities?”

  “Yes, your activities. You promised me no one would miss them. That you were careful and methodical. But you were wrong, just like you’re wrong now. The police are investigating. They know women are being taken. They don’t know why. They’re already asking questions. What if someone noticed her? Can you guarantee she didn’t speak to anyone?”

  Keith glanced over at the frightened girl. She was barely old enough to be considered a woman, and he regretted every decision he made that led him to this point. “Does she even speak English?”

  Frustrated, he let out another sigh. “It’s time I clean house. I never should have trusted you with this. I didn’t have these problems until you came along.”

  “But, sir, you don’t understand. This is not my fault.”

  “No. You don’t understand.” The man gripped the steering wheel tightly. He’d been running this operation for years and never encountered a problem, but the moment he brought on this new guy, everything went to hell. If he didn’t cut ties, he’d get caught. And he couldn’t afford that. He had built an amazing life for himself. He couldn’t let one idiot sabotage everything. “Kill her and don’t leave a mess.”

  Keith cursed. “Yeah, all right.”

  “Make sure it can’t be traced back to me.”

  “Don’t worry, boss. I got this.”

  “I doubt it.” The man stared out the windshield at the manicured lawn, the flower garden, and his expensive house. He never would have been able to afford any of that on his salary, and Keith’s mistake could cost him everything. His wife. His wealth. And his perfect life. “You remember how I took care of you, paid your debts, got those dealers off your back, and made sure your son’s treatments were covered?”

  “Yeah, and I appreciate that.”

  “Circumstances have changed.”

  “C’mon, man. I told you I’d take care of it.”

  “You caused it. Now fix it.”

  * * *

  “Heads-up, Liv. We got movement,” Detective Brad Fennel, my partner, said.

  “Copy.” I leaned against the brick wall. After a few ineffectual clicks from the empty Zippo, I tossed the lighter into my bag and rummaged around for a spare. The cigarette dangled from my lips.

  The man walked right past me. I didn’t look up, but I felt his eyes travel the length of my body. He didn’t slow or stop. When he was a safe distance away, I turned to watch him jog up the steps of a nearby apartment building.

  “False alarm,” Brad said in my ear.

  “No kidding.” I gave up the search for the nonexistent lighter, tucked the limp cigarette behind my non-radioed ear, and glanced around. “How long have we been out here?”

  “A little over five hours. Are you all right? Do you need a break?”

  “I’m fine, just tired, bored, and a little cold.”

  “You should have gone with regular nylons. Fishnets don’t provide much warmth.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  He chuckled. “Just observation. One has large holes. The other do
esn’t. It’s science. Kind of like how you need butane to get the lighter to work.”

  “You know I don’t smoke, and no matter how bored I get, that’s not going to change.” I ducked my head down to hide the grin. “Besides, Emma would kill you if I took up smoking.”

  “Why would that be my fault?”

  “I don’t know. You’re my partner. You’re supposed to have my back. She would see it as a failure on your part.” An evil thought crossed my mind. “She’d hang your balls from her rearview mirror. It’d serve you right.”

  “How’s that?” Brad asked, clearly confused.

  “You do realize I can hear you sipping your coffee and crunching on something. Those better not be the chocolate chip cookies my mom made.”

  “You’re hungry. Why don’t you grab something from the mini-mart?”

  “Processed oils and refined sugar, are you insane?”

  “Fine, I’ll save you a few cookies, but your mom made them for me. And I must say, I would have never known they’re grain-free. They’re delicious.”

  “Bastard.”

  Brad laughed, a deep, velvety sound that immediately improved my mood.

  We returned to radio silence. In the last several weeks, four women had gone missing. The first two were working girls. It wasn’t odd for transients and people on the fringe to disappear or move on. Missing persons and vice explained the first two disappearances away easily enough, but the next two were a little harder to discount.

  The third woman reported missing, Lyla James, was a twenty-year-old theater major. She lived in the dorms, worked as a waitress, and performed in some community plays whenever she got the chance. After Lyla missed one too many classes, campus security knocked on her door. Her belongings remained, and they found her car in the parking lot. The only thing they didn’t find was her.

  Missing persons began a search. But since Ms. James didn’t have a dormmate or family, by the time the police were notified, she’d already been missing for more than a week. The police spoke to her classmates, coworkers, and friends, but no one recalled exactly when they saw Lyla last. It had been too long.

  She’d been raised in foster care. Her foster parents hadn’t spoken to her in months, and her classmates thought Lyla’s disappearance was just Lyla being Lyla. I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but apparently the woman liked to unplug from the word for weeks at a time. At the moment, the detective in charge of her case was still holding out hope Lyla would return.

  When another disappearance occurred, Captain Grayson insisted the intelligence unit would investigate. The fourth victim, Abigail Booker, was last seen getting into a blue sedan with a man only a few feet from where I stood. Like the other missing women, Booker was also in her early twenties. She’d dropped out of school and worked odd jobs to make ends meet. Like the others, she didn’t have any significant ties, but we’d gotten lucky with Booker. She always met her friend, Nicky, for coffee in the morning, and when she didn’t show, we’d gotten the call.

  The missing women didn’t exactly fit a profile. They were all thin and pretty, but that’s where the similarities ended. They had different eye and hair color. They weren’t even the same ethnicity.

  Normally, offenders liked to find victims with the same characteristics, so I didn’t think we were dealing with a serial killer or rapist. Truthfully, we weren’t even sure the cases were connected. Missing persons received reports of new disappearances every day, but based on the reports, the two prostitutes worked this neighborhood and Lyla James had been performing in a play a block from here and worked at a nearby restaurant. If these women were abducted, it had to have happened here. This location was the only discernible connection we’d found, so that’s why Fennel and I were camped out on the street.

  “Someone’s approaching,” I said, giving the tall, blond-haired man a seductive smile. He quickly diverted his eyes and hurried past me. “Never mind.”

  “He didn’t fit the profile,” Fennel reminded me.

  “I doubt we have an accurate profile.”

  “Well, according to Nicky, Abigail Booker had just started seeing some guy before her disappearance. Trim with dark hair and glasses, and Lyla’s coworkers remember seeing a man who fit that description at the restaurant a few times. So it could be something.”

  “Or nothing.” I looked down, making sure my badge was hidden inside my open blouse. It wouldn’t help our surveillance to broadcast I was a cop. Maybe I looked too much like a whore or not whorish enough. Or we were barking up the wrong tree.

  If they were taken against their will, then the abductor didn’t have a type. But I was more than half a decade past his victim’s age range. The makeup and poor lighting would help with that, but since we had next to nothing in terms of leads, I couldn’t help but feel this was a waste of our time. There had to be a better way to find these women. I just didn’t know what it was.

  Another hour passed. I strolled up and down the block, watching the passersby. It was almost four a.m. But this area was just a stone’s throw away from several clubs, theaters, bars, and restaurants, so foot traffic remained consistent. I ducked into a twenty-four hour mini-mart and purchased a large glass bottle of sparkling mineral water. Wrapping it in a brown paper bag, I stepped out of the store, unscrewed the top, and took a sip.

  “Last call,” Fennel said. “Keep your eyes peeled.”

  Since the bars closed a few minutes ago, there was a fifteen minute window where the streets became crowded with taxis, rideshares, and the occasional drunk driver who didn’t live within walking distance. The sidewalks were another story, full of people stumbling around, pissing in alleys, and vomiting in bushes. Sometimes, it was hard not to find the human race disgusting.

  I took a seat on a step just outside an apartment building and held the wrapped bottle between my knees. As I glugged down some water, I kept my head on a swivel. Two men nearly got into a literal pissing match on the corner, and a woman and her date got into an argument ten feet from where I sat. She slapped him, and he grabbed her wrist and yanked her into his chest.

  “Liv, don’t,” Fennel warned. “Let it play out.” My partner knew how badly I wanted to intervene, but domestic issues were always messy and rarely resulted in anything positive.

  After a few angry whispers, he released her, and the two went up the steps to the apartment building. “Freaking skank. We should call the cops,” the man muttered as he pushed past me.

  “Asshole,” I retorted, but the door had already slammed shut.

  Taking my bottle, I moved off the steps and found a spot at the side of the building, barely within visual range of Fennel’s unmarked car. I capped my bottle and looked around. As predicted, the streets had nearly emptied. The quiet seemed so much louder now, almost foreboding.

  “We’ll give it another thirty minutes, and then I’m calling it,” I said.

  “Roger.”

  Ten minutes later, a car pulled to a stop at the far end of the street. With the headlights shining in my eyes, I couldn’t determine the make or model. After thirty seconds, a man stepped out, and the car drove away. As it went past, I noticed it was a red, late model sedan. Nothing special. Probably just another guy looking to make a quick buck schlepping people back and forth.

  I leaned against the corner of the building. From this distance, I couldn’t make out much about the guy, but since no one else was around, he had my undivided attention. He wore a dark hoodie. One of his hands was in the front pocket, and the other carried a bottle-shaped brown paper sack, just like mine. Except I didn’t think he was concealing mineral water.

  A familiar squawk sounded in my ear, but the message was staticky and garbled since I was hearing it secondhand through our open comms. However, Fennel’s voice came through loud and clear. “Dispatch just got a report of a disturbance. It sounds like a domestic.”

  “Where?” I asked, suspecting I knew the answer.

  “The apartment building right behind you. Unit 34C. Patr
ol’s on the way. What do you want to do?”

  I turned and headed up the steps. A car door slammed behind me, and Brad jogged across the street. While I waited for the elevator, Fennel entered the apartment building. This wasn’t a ritzy place. There was no doorman or front desk. The front door didn’t even have a lock.

  The doors dinged open, and the asshole from earlier stepped out of the elevator. He kept his face down and pushed past without even seeing us. Brad gave me a look.

  “Go check on the woman,” I said, watching the front door swing closed behind the man.

  “No. I’ll go after him. You check on her.”

  “I can’t like this.” I gestured at my clothing. “It’s probably a false alarm, anyway. Go upstairs. I’ll meet you at the car. Radio if you need assistance.”

  “I left the radio in the car.”

  “Then call my phone.” I didn’t give Brad time to protest before I ran for the door.

  The asshole stormed down the street, and I slowed, doing my best to keep him in my sights without tipping him off that he was being followed. Once Brad gave the all clear, I’d stop pursuit, but in case this prick had roughed up his girlfriend, it’d be easier to make an arrest if we didn’t have to search the city to find him.

  He stopped on the corner, kicked an empty can across the street, and banged his fist against the Plexiglas shelter surrounding a bus bench. After a few minutes of working off his aggression, he sat down and leaned forward, scrolling through the numbers on his phone. He sent a text. Then he dialed a number.

  “Hey, man, I know it’s late, but can you do me a favor? I’m gonna need a place to stay.” He waited. “Yeah, she did. You said she would.” He paused again. “Great. Just one more thing. Do you think you could pick me up?”

  My phone buzzed, and I fished it out of my purse. “Yeah?”

  “She’s upset but otherwise unharmed. Patrol just got here.” I turned to see the blue and white parked in front of the building. “I’m going to update them and get the details straight. It doesn’t look like she wants to press charges, so I’ll be down in a minute.”