Golden Trail (89 page)

Then he looked up when Joe Callahan slid his
truck to a halt in front of the house, Vi’s Mustang sliding in
behind him. He watched Vi get out, she pushed back her seat to get
to Angela’s baby seat in the back. Cal jumped down and walked to
Layne, his face intense.

He just made it to Layne when February
Colton’s VW Beetle slid up behind the Mustang.

That was the women of the ‘burg. Trouble
comes, they close ranks.

Cal stopped at him.

“Talk to me,” he ordered.

Layne locked eyes with him then he
talked.

Vi with Angela at her hip and Feb with her
son Jack at hers rushed into the house.

* * * * *

When Layne could take no more, he tore his
eyes from Tara Murdoch, her weeping mother, her stony-faced father,
the softly-speaking Patrick Sullivan and the watchful child
psychologist and he walked out of the observation room.

Cal moved with him.

Layne pulled his phone out of his jacket,
flipped it open, scrolled down and hit go while he walked to the
buzzing bullpen.

“What?” Ryker barked in his ear.

“Meet me at Towers’s apartment at The
Brendel,” Layne ordered.

“I’ll be there yesterday,” Ryker replied and
then dead air.

“Tanner,” Cal murmured and Layne stopped and
turned to him.

“You can stay here or follow,” Layne
stated.

“I’m with you,” Cal replied instantly.

“Tanner!” Sean O’Leary jogged up to him and
Layne checked his movement and looked to Sean.

“Yeah?”

“Bad news and kind of good news,” Sean said
and when Layne did nothing but stare impatiently, Sean went on.
“Rutledge didn’t lead us to the location but he did lead us
straight to four of her army. The cop on his tail called backup.
They came in quick but cool and were there when Rutledge either
pushed too hard or got impatient. Whatever reason, shots were
fired, the boys moved in.”

“Rutledge?” Layne asked.

“He went down, he’s still alive, it’s bad
though and he’s on his way to hospital,” Sean answered.

“Fuck, Sean, that is
not
good news,”
Layne clipped.

“No, the kind of good news is that Rutledge
took down one of her army, the cops got the other three, they were
all armed and, man, it is highly likely we’ll get ballistic matches
on the slugs they pulled outta you,” Sean returned.

Sean was right, that was
kind of
good
news.

“Any of her crew know where the party is
located?” Layne asked.

“They’re workin’ them now,” Sean
answered.

Layne nodded and moved, Cal moving with him.
They separated in the parking lot, both going to their trucks, Cal
following close as Layne headed to The Brendel.

Ryker’s bike was parked at the foot of the
stairs leading up to Towers’ apartment. Layne didn’t bother finding
a spot and neither did Cal, they parked at the curb. They both got
out and started to jog up the stairs where Ryker was waiting.

“Bust it,” Layne ordered, his head tipped
back to look at Ryker and Ryker didn’t delay, he took a step back,
lifted his big motorcycle boot and the apartment door crashed
in.

The alarm immediately went off, Ryker and
Layne ignored it, both of them moving into the space. Cal went to
the alarm panel, ripped the face off, twisted some wires together
and the alarm stopped.

“Shit, child’s play,” he muttered, his eyes
slicing to Layne. “Rocky lives here, to do list, man.”

Layne didn’t have to think about Roc’s
security. Rocky was, that night, officially no longer living at The
Fucking Brendel.

“What are we lookin’ for?” Ryker asked.

“Anything,” Layne answered. “Just look.”

“Devin sifted through this place, bro, and I
get the sense he’s good at what he does,” Ryker noted, pulling
cushions off the couch.

Layne picked up a cushion Ryker pulled off,
yanked his army knife out of his jeans and his eyes locked on
Ryker.

“He had to go easy,” Layne said softly. “We
don’t.”

Then he ripped the cushion open with his
knife.

Ryker smiled his ugly smile, it was without
humor but filled with something else which made it uglier and a
fuckuva lot scarier.

Then he ripped a cushion clean in two with
his bare hands.

* * * * *

Towers’s apartment was clean so they moved
to Rutledge’s.

By the sounds of it, Cal and Ryker were
tearing up the downstairs. Or, at least Ryker was.

Layne was working the bedroom when he
flipped the mattress on the bed, his eyes glancing across the
bottom of the mattress to go to the box springs then his eyes shot
back.

Stitches.

Shit.

He walked on the mattress, crouched down to
the stitches and carefully slid his knife in. Ripping the material
away, he reached in and felt it, he found the edge, pulled out the
manila envelope and also pulled in breath.

He knew he didn’t want to see what was
inside. Still, he opened the envelope carefully, shook out the
eight by tens on the mattress and used his knife to move them
around as his stomach churned.

Rutledge. Rutledge and Towers. Towers with
girls with Rutledge in shot, watching; Rutledge with girls Layne
had never seen; and Rutledge also with Tara Murdoch.

He stood, tearing his eyes away, looking at
the wall, taking a moment to pull his shit together.

Then he pulled out his phone and called
Merry.

“Hope this is good, big man, ‘cause I’m
–”

“I’ve just located evidence that Harrison
Rutledge is a pedophile,” Layne told him.

Silence then, “Where are you?”

“Rutledge’s apartment.”

“Man, we’re still holding on the search
warrant,” Merry bit out.

“Good, then we’ve assisted the Department in
a time-saving measure,” Layne shot back. “We’ll finish up, leave
visible what you need to see and move out. No one needs to know
that you boys didn’t make this mess.”

“Fuck, Tanner,” Merry hissed.

“Merry, suck it up and work with it,” Layne
advised.

“This is not your burden, brother, you
didn’t let those girls down,” Merry said low.

“No, brother, we all did,” Layne returned,
flipped his phone shut and kept looking.

* * * * *

“This is bullshit!” Ryker barked. “Time is
wastin’.”

Cal’s eyes cut to Layne, his phone to his
ear, he moved out of Layne’s office and into the reception area,
closing the door. Cal was working through every number on
Rutledge’s cell phone bill, he had half the pile, Dave was sitting
at the receptionist’s desk with the other half. They’d taken
pictures at the apartment of a number of hopefully useful documents
and gone to Layne’s office to print them out.

Ryker and Layne were going through credit
card statements.

“Focus, Ryker,” Layne advised.

“Every second we waste –” Ryker growled.

“You wanna hold hands and meditate and hope
her location pops in one of our heads?” Layne growled back. “Or do
you wanna investigate this fuckwad and hope he tripped up and leads
us to your girl?”

Ryker glared at him. Layne held his glare
then looked back to the statements.

His eyes shifted through the one in his
hand, down and then back up.

Then he stopped.

He had August’s statement. August was the
month when Tara Murdoch told Sully the party was held. It started
with a photo shoot where they gave the girls champagne likely laced
with Rohpynol or another fast-acting, date rape drug. She’d woken
up blindfolded. A ball gag with a handkerchief stuffed in her
mouth. She’d described what the gag felt like and he’d seen it.
She’d been tied to the bed. She’d taken five men, none of whom
she’d seen, one of whom he knew. She had no idea how much time each
one had with her but she reported they took their time however a
girl enduring that, five minutes could seem like five hours.

When it was done, Towers had made her
warnings and they were good ones. None of the girls talked for fear
it would happen again. Each of them had a younger sister. Each of
them was told, they talked, they’d come back and their sisters
would be accompanying them. Alexis didn’t fit this profile but
Giselle and Tiffany did. The girls were told to tell their parents
they were with each other. They did and held their secret until
Tara spilled it in the interrogation room.

Hannah lost her mind. Summer faded into
herself. And Tara built a wall.

And Harrison Rutledge had ordered himself a
couple of drinks from the bar prior to his turn and the dumbfuck
had paid for them on a credit card.

Layne stood, grabbing his jacket as he
growled, “Let’s go.”

Ryker’s head shot back then he was up with
Layne. “What’d you get?”

Layne didn’t answer, he had his cell phone
out and he was out the door. Cal’s eyes came to him when Layne put
the cell phone to his ear. He jerked his head to the door, Cal took
his cell from his ear and moved with them. Dave didn’t miss a beat
and kept talking into his phone.

Merry answered, “You got something,
Tanner?”

“Get IMPD to get units to every exclusive
hotel in Indy, starting with The Townsend. And tell them to go in
soft,” Layne ordered.

“On it,” Merry replied and then he
disconnected.

Layne led Ryker and Cal down the stairs.

* * * * *

“Stick with me,” Layne murmured as he drove
through the parking garage.

“We should get inside,” Ryker hissed.

“Stick with me,” Layne repeated.

“Shit, this is shit, this is bullshit,”
Ryker muttered.

“A woman like that is not gonna revisit the
scene of her crime,” Layne explained. “Rutledge had his sick fun at
The Imperial. Second top spot in Indy is The Townsend. She’s there
and she’s the kind of woman who can sense heat. She’s gonna bolt.
She’s gotta go down, brother.”

Then he saw it and braked.

Not the silver BMW, her sporty, red
Mazda.

He put the car in neutral, set the brake and
turned to Ryker.

“Knife,” he growled.

Ryker didn’t hesitate, his hand went to his
belt, he popped the button on his huge-ass knife, yanked it out and
handed it over.

Layne opened his door, ordering, “Stay
here.”

He jogged quickly to the Mazda, motioning
with flicks of his fingers, communicating to Cal. Cal nodded
through his windscreen and passed the Suburban.

Layne didn’t watch to see where Cal went. He
crouched by the back tire, thrusting Ryker’s knife into the rubber.
He moved forward and took out the front tire. He jogged around the
car and did the same to the other side. Then he jogged back to his
truck.

He swung in, handed the knife to Ryker,
pulled out his cell, put the car in gear, released the brake,
located the pedestrian entryway to the garage and scanned for a
spot with good visibility all at the same time he scrolled on his
phone.

He hit go and put it to his ear.

“Yo,” Merry said quietly.

“You at The Townsend?” Layne asked, seeing
his spot, he started maneuvering the behemoth to reverse in while
still talking.

“Yes, just got here. This is it, brother.
Management says three weeks ago they had an unusual reservation.
One day, big money, an entire floor of suites cleared. They had to
juggle but they did it. I’m in the security room, they have cameras
on the halls. She’s got sentries. Two at the elevators. One outside
each room. Three rooms. Two at the emergency exit. The hotel was
told it was a VIP with stringent security and that they needed
confidentiality and discretion which the hotel assured them they
could provide. So we got seven boys, from what I can see by the
bulges in their jackets, heavily armed. We don’t know if there are
more in the rooms and the hotel didn’t clock them, considering the
promise of discretion and all. IMPD is pulling together a team to
take the top without collateral damage.”

“Three rooms?” Layne asked as he put the
truck in neutral, set the brake and killed the ignition.

“Not good news, brother,” Merry answered and
Layne’s neck got tight.

“What?”

“Wherever Tiffany went, she took her sister
with her. She’s thirteen, Tanner.”

Jesus, Jesus, fuck.

He didn’t want to ask with Ryker at his side
but he had to ask.

“Have the parties started?”

“Ryker with you?” Merry asked back.

“Yeah,” Layne answered.

“Then I’m not answering that question right
now,” Merry replied.

Layne clenched his teeth and his chest
seized. Alexis McGraw had been to his house. Ryker and Lissa sat
with Layne and Rocky at the dining room table drinking beer and
shooting the shit while Alexis and Seth, Keira and Jasper and Tripp
and Giselle all lounged on the sectional, doing kid shit. Alexis
was chock full of attitude, the good kind, though it had an edge,
but underneath that, she was a sweet kid.

“You got eyes on her?” Layne asked.

Merry knew what Layne was asking.
“Plainclothes everywhere, big man, but no one has seen Towers.
Maybe she’s in one of the rooms. They’re scanning security footage
now to see if she’s entered the hotel.”

“She’s somewhere. I have eyes on her car. A
red Mazda, in the parking garage, not the hotel’s, across the
street and just south. I’ve disabled the car. We’re on the third
floor.”

“I’ll call that in.”

“Merry, she’s not getting away,” Layne
warned.

“You make a mess, Tanner, I’ll clean it up,”
Merry replied.

Layne heard the disconnect and flipped his
phone closed.

“Tell me,” Ryker whispered and his tone was
the tone of a man broken.

Layne’s eyes went to him.

“Don’t make me sorry you’re at my side,”
Layne warned softly. Ryker stared at him and the air in the cab
became suffocating. “I’ll blow this to take you out,” Layne
whispered. “Do not mistake me, Ryker, I’ll do what I have to do to
keep you safe so you can take care of her because, brother, she
needs you now. Do
not
fuck this up.”