Monday
Night
As they weaved through the late rush hour traffic, Ray reviewed the info Patterson had given him on Johnnie Cotton. He'd been swept up in a child pornography sting six years ago, when he was twenty-four, and ended up spending two years in Lompoc. Out now, he would be on the sex offender registry for the rest of his life. That might explain why he lived in an industrial section of town, where it was far less likely that he'd violate the rule to stay 100 feet away from any schools or playgrounds.
But as troubling as that offense was, it wasn't what had them headed to his place now. Instead, it was his van and Denton's allegation that he was his dealer. Those two things together were enough for Hillman to get a warrant for his strike force. But Lieutenant Cole Hillman was a cautious man. Keri and Ray were both confident that just like the yelling they heard at Denton's house, these details about Cotton created exigent circumstances that didn't require a warrant. Neither of them needed to say it out loud: they were going in.
Cotton lived adjacent to Baldwin Hills, a wealthy, primarily African-American neighborhood in the heart of West Los Angeles. Most of the homes were on sloping hills that rose high enough to give panoramic views of the city on light smog days. But Cotton didn't live in that neighborhood. His place was just to the south, in a mostly desolate stretch of land populated by oil fields and the always pumping derricks that sucked them dry.
His two-acre property was just off Stocker Street, on a stretch of Santa Fe Road, littered with rock and gravel suppliers, fabrication shops, junk yards, and the ramshackle homes of those businesses' owners.
Keri and Ray got to Cotton's place just after sunset. They had turned off the siren when they pulled off nearby La Cienega Boulevard. Now Ray turned off the headlights as well. They parked on the street, several hundred feet down from Cotton's place, near the adjacent property. It was some sort of graveyard for broken down bulldozers, excavators, and eighteen-wheelers, which cast eerie black silhouettes against the fast darkening sky.
There were no streetlights in the area, exacerbating the shadows. A few of the buildings had small lights over the doorways but they were so far off the road that they weren't much help to Keri and Ray.
They reviewed the plan before going any further.
"We've got about twenty-five minutes, tops, before the strike team arrives," Ray noted. "Let's keep our focus on finding Ashley and getting her out safe. We'll let the pros handle the takedown if possible. Sound good?"
Keri nodded.
The side gate for the vehicle graveyard property parallel to Cotton's place was open so they entered as quietly as possible.
I guess the owner of this place isn't too concerned about anyone making off with his stuff unnoticed.
The properties were only divided by a five-foot-high chain-link fence. They carefully traversed the area for a hundred yards, before they finally saw a structure on Cotton's property. It was a small one-story house with yellow interior lights peeking through the pulled curtains.
Behind it, farther back into the blackness, they could now see several other structures, the largest of which looked like a two-story metal building-possibly a welding shop from the look of it-followed by several others, smaller and more shed-like. None of them had any interior or exterior lighting.
They climbed over the fence, landed on Cotton's property, and approached the house quietly, moving in a wide searching circle, navigating through the broken husks of old rusty cars squatting on flat, airless tires.
Except for the dull hum of traffic a half mile away and the distant barking of one lonely dog, they heard nothing.
"I don't see a van," Keri whispered. She tried to ignore the sweat creeping down her back, making her shirt cling to her clammy skin. Despite the sweltering heat, she felt a chill.
"He might not be home."
They kept moving, one careful step at a time, never quite sure if they were about to snag a tripwire or step on a homemade explosive of some sort. With a guy like Johnnie Cotton, who clearly didn't like unannounced visitors, you could never tell.
They got all the way to the house and peeked through the narrow gap between the curtains. They could see a small living room. An old tube TV with rabbit-ears sat in one corner with nothing but static on the screen. There didn't seem to be any movement inside. The light they'd seen came from a table lamp. A small fan on the floor oscillated back and forth in a futile attempt to keep the place cool. Other than the hum of the blades, they heard no sound coming from inside.
They crept around the side of the house, passing a blacked out and closed window, and then continued to the back, where a sliding window was in the up position for air flow. Through the screen, they saw a bedroom. A bit of light trickled into the room from a hall, enough to show that the bedroom walls were plastered with magazine pictures of young girls, almost all of whom were in outfits like nighties and bathing suits. It wasn't kiddie porn-everything on the walls was available at a newsstand. But the sheer volume of it was disturbing.
"Old habits die hard, I guess," Ray muttered,
They continued their search, looking in every available window, and finally concluded that the man wasn't home. They found the back door, which Ray unlocked with a credit card, entered, and did a quick search of the place, flicking on light switches only when necessary and only for a few seconds, in case Cotton came back unexpectedly.
In the closet off the main bedroom, Ray spotted a shoebox on an upper shelf. He started pull it down when they both heard a noise below them, sort of a scurrying sound. They froze, staring at each other.
"Ashley?" Ray mouthed silently.
"Or maybe Cotton, hiding," Keri whispered back.
Keri pulled back the area rug in the living room, revealing a trap door. There was a snap lock on it but nothing else to prevent them from opening it. Keri holstered her gun and put her hand on the lock while Ray trained his gun on the door. She silently counted down from three with one hand while bracing herself to open the door with the other. At the end of the count she yanked open the door so that it lay flat on the floor, then stood aside.
For a second there was nothing. Then they heard the scurrying again. As it got closer it sounded more like a gallop. And then something shot out from the basement below, almost faster than the eye could see.
A huge German shepherd landed on the floor on all fours, growling. Its fur was matted and Keri could smell it from halfway across the room. The dog swiveled its head around and caught sight of Ray in the closet. He growled again and bounded in that direction, his clawed paws scraping noisily on the wooden floor.
"Shut the door!" Keri yelled. Ray did as he was told, managing to slam it closed just before the animal reached him. The shepherd turned around immediately, looking for the source of the voice. His eyes locked on Keri. She saw his muscles tense as he prepared to leap.
Unlike Ray, she was in the center of the living room. There was no way she'd make it to a doorway before the dog got to her.
What am I going to do?
She realized her hand was already resting on her holstered gun. She didn't want to use it but feared she wouldn't have much choice. It was clear that the dog had been trained to attack and she doubted he'd go easy on her. Suddenly a voice called out from the closet.
"Hey, ugly! Come and get me!"
The dog turned to glance at the closet door briefly. Keri used the reprieve to glance quickly around the room.
Nowhere to go. He's faster than me. I can't outrun him. I can't outfight him. I don't even know if I can pull my gun before he reaches me.
The dog lost interest in the voice and returned his attention to Keri. Then an idea popped into her head. But to make it work she'd need another distraction. It was if Ray had read her mind. He opened the closet door a crack and shouted again.
"What's the problem, Cujo-scared?"
The shepherd barked and tried to shove his nose through the door, without success.
That was all Keri needed. She knelt down quickly. The dog gave up on Ray and focused on Keri. Ray continued to yell but the animal ignored him. A long strand of saliva hung from his open mouth. His teeth seemed to gleam in the dull lamplight. There was a beat of stillness and then he leapt, a canine torpedo headed straight for her. Out of the corner of her eye, Keri saw Ray open the closet door, his gun pointed at the fast-moving dog.
"No!" Keri shouted as she yanked the trap door upright to create a barrier between her and the dog. The animal, already in the air, could do nothing to avoid it and slammed into the door before falling down the basement stairs. Even as she started to push the door shut, Keri saw the shepherd scrambling back up the stairs, apparently unhurt. She slammed the door closed a fraction of a second before the dog smashed into it. She heard it slip down the stairs again for a second, then gather itself again for another leap.
She lay down on the trap door, pressing all her weight against it, and braced for the next collision. When it came, it knocked her in the air a few inches. By the time she caught her breath, the dog was roaring up the stairs for a third time.
But by now, Ray had reached her and dove on the trapdoor as well. This time, when the dog slammed into it, there was no movement. They heard a loud yelp, then the soft patter of the dog retreating down the stairs, apparently finally defeated.
Keri rolled over, snapped the door locked, and let out a huge sigh. Ray lay next to her, breathing heavily. After a few seconds Keri sat up and looked at him.
"Cujo?" she asked.
"It was all I could think of."
They both slowly got to their feet and looked around. Keri noticed that the shoebox in the closet that Ray had been holding had fallen to the ground, spreading hundreds of photos on the floor. They were all of naked girls ranging in age from five or so to the late teens.
Without even thinking, Keri started tearing through them, looking for Evie, until Ray put his hand on her shoulder and quietly said, "Not now."
"Ray!"
"Not now. That's not what we're here for. Besides, they're not going anywhere. Come on."
She hesitated and then snatched the box from the closet floor and ran with it into the living room, closer to the light of the lamp. There she dumped the remaining pictures on the floor before Ray could stop her and began to rapidly shuffle through them.
Evie's in here. I know it.
Ray tried to grab her wrist but she twisted free.
"She's in here, Ray! Leave me alone!"
"Look!" he hissed, pointing at the driveway.
Suddenly the front of the house lit up.
Headlights were coming at them, still a ways off but approaching fast. It was Cotton, coming home.
"Come on!" Ray insisted.
They got the pictures back in the box and in the closet, straightened out the carpet over the trap door, and somehow managed to step out the back door just as Cotton entered through the front. They stood there, motionless, wondering if he'd heard the door shut. A second passed and then another. The back door didn't open. No head peered out to see if anything was there. Ray tugged softly on Keri's arm and they quietly worked their way through the darkness further back onto the property.
At the two-story structure, a metal prefabricated building, Keri said, "Let's go back."
"No."
"Ray-"
"No, you're going to shoot him."
"Only if he gives me a reason."
"He's already given you a reason."
"Ray, come on."
"No, it's for your own good. Remember why we're here-to find Ashley. We're Missing Persons, not vigilantes. Besides, the strike force will be here in a few minutes to take care of him."
Keri nodded silently. He was right. She needed to stay focused now. There was time to review the pictures later. They turned their attention back to the building before them. The front door was unlocked. Inside, it was completely dark.
Keri softly called, "Ashley!"
No response.
"Stay here and cover me," she said. "I'm going to check it out."
"Don't turn on any lights."
"Don't worry. And let me know if Cotton tries to bail."
Ten steps inside, she was totally blind. She pulled out her tiny flashlight and slowly waved it around the room.
"Ashley!"
No one answered.
There's no way this can be a dead-end. She has to be here somewhere.
She checked around corners and behind doors but found nothing. The place was huge and there were too many places to hide-or be stashed away. They needed some real light.
Just as she had the thought, the building was bathed in light. Keri ducked, unsure of what was going on. Ray hid behind a fifty-five-gallon drum near the entrance. Then she realized that headlights had been turned on from a vehicle next to the house. The lights swung around and then disappeared down the long gravel driveway to Santa Fe Road.
Keri sprinted back to Ray but by the time she reached him, he was already on the phone.
"Suspect is driving a black van, headed north on Santa Fe Road."
He paused to listen to the speaker on the other end of the line.
"Copy that. No evidence of missing girl in the house. Unknown whether suspect is armed. We'll remain at the location in case he returns. Sands out."
He turned to face Keri.
"That was Brody. He's with the strike team. He says they've got Cotton under surveillance. Hillman's apparently dealing with some other secret crisis right now but he was conferenced in on our call. He doesn't want to use the strike force until he has to. If Ashley's not anywhere here on the property, he's hoping Cotton will lead them to her location."
Keri started to respond but he interrupted.
"I know what you're thinking. Don't worry. There are six vehicles trailing him and he's driving a big black van. He's not getting away, Keri."
"That's not what I was thinking."
"It's not?"
"Okay, yes, it was. But you don't have to be so condescending about it."
"Sorry."
"I forgive you. Now let's take advantage of the situation."
They headed back to the two-story metal building. Keri felt around for the light switch and flipped it on. The place sprang to life. It was full of fabrication machinery and tools. A quick search revealed that Ashley wasn't there. They found a crowbar and proceeded to pry open every shed on the lot. They searched them all. Every one of them was empty.
They shouted at the top of their lungs.
"Ashley!"
"Ashley!"
"Ashley, are you here?"
She wasn't.
Keri headed back to the house at a fast walk with Ray right behind her. She pushed hard through the back door and went straight to the closet and swung open the closet door.
The shelf was empty.
The shoebox was gone.
Keri hunted around briefly for it before her frustration got the better of her. She grabbed the lamp from the living room end table and threw it against the wall. The ceramic base shattered all over the floor. The dog below the floorboards began to bark. He'd found his courage again.
She slumped down on the couch and hung her head. Ray, who'd been standing quietly by the back door, walked over and sat down next to her.
He was about to speak when Keri's phone buzzed. She picked up. It was Mia Penn.
"Detective Locke, where are you?"
"Looking for your daughter, Mrs. Penn," she answered, trying to hide how deflated she felt.
"Can you come over here right now?"
"Why? What's going on?"
"Please, just get here as fast as you can."
