Ghosts, Matt Rogers [reading the story of the .txt] 📗

to her collar bone.

Her heart almost leapt through her chest.

He said, ‘Who are you really?’

She didn’t have to try too hard to tear up. She only had to half-fake it.

She shook her head, her eyes wet, and looked up at him. ‘Alan…’

He said, ‘Get out of the car. Keep your hands where I can see them.’

She levered the door outwards. Her hands were shaking. The panic button was burning a hole in her pocket. She couldn’t get to it. She stepped out and stood up, the sun hot on her face, making her squint, masking her vision. Her pulse was out of control. Ward’s silhouette hovered in front of her, the gun now lowered to his waist. The barrel was aimed at her gut.

He said, ‘Put your hands behind your back.’

She complied.

He cuffed her.

Then he led her to the squad car, shoved her into the passenger seat, and circled to the driver’s side.

He got in, sealing them in the cabin. The silence was deafening.

‘Who are you?’ he said. ‘It’d be smart to tell me the truth.’

She couldn’t speak.

Even if she wanted to.

He waited.

Finally she managed a few words. ‘What are you doing to me?’

‘I don’t have a choice,’ Ward said. ‘Turns out Keith Ray isn’t exactly out of the picture.’

‘W-what?’

‘I guess I can explain,’ he said. ‘I owe you that much.’

She didn’t answer.

‘Something happened this morning,’ he said. ‘Right after I left you. I don’t know what it was, but it made him real paranoid. He’s been putting out calls for the last thirty minutes to all his old contacts. If I had to guess, he’s in some sort of conflict with the pieces of shit he associates with. Anyway, he asked if anyone had spoken his name recently. A buddy of mine — well, I thought he was a buddy — told him that I’d just called something in.’

‘You promised our conversation would stay between us.’

‘It was a passing remark. This buddy … he’s the one who told me about Keith in the first place. I trusted him. I shouldn’t have. He’s weak-willed. He cracks under pressure. Keith cracked him. Next minute I get a call from Keith Ray. I’ve never spoken to him before. He asks me what I heard or saw. He tells me if I lie to him, he knows where I live, and he knows I live with my grandmother. He knows I take care of her. So I tell him what happened. And he says he’s never heard of you. He says he’s never bought you a drink. He says he’d remember that sort of thing. He knows you’re lying. He told me to pick you up and bring you to him or my grandma pays the price.’

Alexis thought she might pass out.

There was no colour in her face, and she knew she couldn’t act tough anymore.

Her vision swam.

In a tiny voice she said, ‘You wouldn’t…’

She watched Alan Ward force down a wave of emotion.

He scrunched up his face and steeled it and said, ‘I’m sorry. Family is everything to me.’

He drove off as Alexis sank hopelessly down into her seat.

28

King was the first to arrive back at the estate.

He parked the Bentley in the driveway, leaving room in the garage for the BMW. Slater drove it in moments later, and they rendezvoused at the front door. A quick survey of the grounds and open garage revealed no other cars.

King called Violetta.

It rang, and rang, and rang.

No one answered.

Slater called Alexis.

It rang, and rang, and rang.

Same result.

King said, ‘Doesn’t mean anything. There are endless reasons they wouldn’t have eyes on their phones.’

Slater scratched the stubble along his jaw and looked at the ground. ‘I don’t like it. Alexis was finished before we even went into Wan’s. She gave us the go ahead. All she had to do was drive back.’

‘Let’s talk about Wan’s first,’ King said. ‘Good job holding it together.’

‘You too.’

King knew Slater meant it. One side of King’s face was puffy from Gates’ full-contact slap. Slater’s injuries were less noticeable — there was no superficial damage on his face — but he’d been stomped hard in the torso more than once.

Slater said, ‘Please tell me we get to put those guys in their place.’

‘Of course,’ King said. ‘But not yet. Elsa’s still in the wind. We can kill all Gates’ men and interrogate him, but that’s an all-or-nothing gamble that Gates knows where she is.’

‘He’s the pimp,’ Slater said. ‘You honestly think he doesn’t?’

‘She vanished around the time Keith Ray disappeared out of the record books. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.’

‘But then Gates knows…’

‘We don’t know what he knows,’ King said. ‘Ray is the key to all this. That “personal bodyguard” stuff is nonsense. You’re telling me the ex-Clark County Sheriff went to work for a low-level thug who runs a seedy club out the back of a cigarette store?’

‘You think it’s the other way round?’

‘I know it is. Ray retires, wipes his record as best he can, then gets to work recruiting all the undesirables he cosied up to throughout his career. And besides…’

King trailed off.

Slater said, ‘What?’

‘Sure, Gates might know where Elsa is. Whether she’s in the ground or still alive, kept somewhere for a fate worse than death. But what about the rest? What if there’s dozens we’re not addressing, all for the salvation of one of them?’

Slater went quiet.

King said, ‘I want all of it exposed. Every corner, every shadow. I want to bring it all down. And the only way we do that is with patience. This won’t resolve itself today.’

‘We have to,’ Slater said. ‘Or…’

King shook his head.

Slater said, ‘What?’

‘You don’t get it.’

Slater didn’t respond.

King said, ‘It was always too late for that. We were never going to get there in time.’

With an air of inevitability he pulled out his phone and opened the internet browser. He navigated to the “Courts” subsection of the Las Vegas Review-Journal and refreshed the page. It only took a few seconds to scan the headlines of the newest