A Trace of Vice (a Keri Locke Mystery--Book #3)

PROLOGUE Even though Sarah Caldwell was just sixteen, she had a good head on her shoulders and a keen sense of when things felt off. And this felt off. She almost didn’t go. But when Lanie Joseph, her best friend since elementary school, called and asked her to hang out at the mall this afternoon, she couldn’t think of a convincing reason not to go. But ever since they met up, Lanie seemed jumpy. Sarah couldn’t understand what about wandering around the Fox Hills Mall could be so anxiety inducing. She noticed that when they were trying on cheap necklaces at Claire’s, Lanie’s hands shook as she tried to fasten the clasp. The truth was that Sarah didn’t really know what made Lanie nervous anymore. They’d been incredibly close all through elementary school. However, once Sarah’s family had moved from south Culver City to the still working-class but less-dangerous neighborhood of Westchester, they’d slowly drifted apart. The communities were only a few miles apart. But without cars, which neither girl had, or a serious commitment to stay connected, they’d lost touch. As they tried on makeup at Nordstrom, Sarah stole glances at Lanie in the mirror. Her friend’s light blonde hair was streaked with blue and pink. She already had on so much dark eye makeup that there was really no reason to test anything out at the counter. Her fair skin seemed even paler when contrasted with her multiple tattoos and the black tank top and Daisy Dukes she wore. Amid the intentional body art, Sarah couldn’t help but notice some bruises mixed in. She looked back at her own reflection and was stunned by the contrast. She knew she was pretty too, but in a more subdued, almost sensible way. Her shoulder-length brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her own makeup was subtle, highlighting her hazel eyes and long lashes. Her olive skin was tattoo free and she wore faded jeans and a cute but far from risqué teal top. She wondered if she’d stayed in the old neighborhood, would she look like Lanie did now? Almost certainly not. Her parents would never have allowed her to start down that path. If Lanie had moved to Westchester, would she still look like she was a teen prostitute working a truck stop? Sarah felt her face turn crimson as she shook the thought from her head. What kind of person was she, to think such awful thoughts about someone she’d played Barbies with as a girl? She turned away, hoping Lanie wouldn’t see the guilt she felt sure was plastered all over her face. “Let’s get a snack at the food court,” Sarah said, trying to change the dynamic. Lanie nodded and they headed out, leaving the disappointed saleslady behind. As they sat at a table munching on pretzels, Sarah finally decided to find out what was going on. “So you know I always love to see you, Lanie. But you sounded so upset when you called and you seem so uneasy…is there something wrong?” “No. Everything’s cool. I just…my boyfriend is stopping by to say hi and I guess I’m nervous about you meeting him. He’s a little older and we’ve only been together for a few weeks. I kind of feel like I might be losing him and I thought that you could talk me up a little, that if he saw me with my oldest friend, it would make him see me differently?” “How does he see you now?” Sarah asked, concerned. Before Lanie could answer, a guy approached their table. Even before the introductions, Sarah knew this must be the boyfriend. He was tall and super-skinny, with tight jeans and a black T-shirt that set off his own pale skin and multiple tattoos. Sarah noticed that he and Lanie had the same small skull and crossbones image on top of their left wrists. With his long, black, spiky hair and penetrating dark eyes, he wasn’t so much handsome as beautiful. He reminded Sarah of the lead singers of those hair metal bands from the 1980s her mom always swooned over with names like Skid Row or Motley Row or something Row. He was easily twenty-one. “Hey, babe,” he said casually and leaned in to give Lanie a surprisingly passionate kiss, at least for a mall food court. “Did you tell her?” “I didn’t get a chance yet,” Lanie said sheepishly, before turning to Sarah. “Sarah Caldwell, this is my boyfriend, Dean Chisolm. Dean, this is my oldest friend in the world, Sarah.” “Nice to meet you,” Sarah said, nodding politely. “The pleasure is all mine,” Dean said, taking her hand in his and doing a deep, playfully exaggerated bow. “Lanie talks about you all the time, how she wishes you guys could hang out more. So I’m really glad you could get together today.” “Me too,” Sarah said, impressed by the unexpected charm of the guy, but wary nonetheless. “What didn’t she get a chance to tell me?” Dean’s whole face broke into an easy smile that seemed to melt away her suspicions. “Oh that,” he said. “I’m having some friends over to my place this afternoon and we thought it might be fun for you to join us. Some of them are in bands. One of them needs a new lead singer. Lanie thought you might like to meet them. She says you’re a really good singer.” Sarah looked at Lanie, who smiled back but said nothing. “Is that what you want to do?” Sarah asked her. “It could be fun to try something new,” Lanie said. Her tone was casual but Sarah recognized the look in her eyes, which pleaded for her friend not to say anything to embarrass her in front of her hot new boyfriend. “Where is it?” Sarah asked. “Hollywood adjacent,” he said, his eyes glimmering with anticipation. “Let’s head out. It’s gonna be fun.” * Sarah sat in the back seat of Dean’s old Trans Am. The relic was well maintained on the outside but the interior was littered with cigarette butts and rolled up McDonald’s wrappers. Dean and Lanie sat up front. With the loud music, it was impossible to have a conversation. They passed through Hollywood in the direction of Little Armenia. Sarah looked at her friend in the front passenger seat and wondered whether she was even helping her by coming. Her thoughts drifted back to the mall ladies’ room before they’d left, where Lanie had finally come somewhat clean with her. “Dean is super passionate,” she’d said as they checked their makeup one last time in the bathroom mirror. “And I’m worried that if I don’t keep up, I’m going to lose him. I mean, he’s so sexy. He could have his pick of girls. And he doesn’t treat me like some teenager. He treats me like a woman.” “Is that why you have those bruises, because he treats you like a woman?” She tried to catch Lanie’s eye in the mirror but her friend refused to look at her directly. “He was just upset,” she said. “He said I was ashamed of him and that’s why I didn’t introduce him to any of my respectable girlfriends. But the truth is, I don’t really have any friends like that anymore. That’s when I thought of you. I figured if you two met, it would be a double whammy. He’d know I wasn’t hiding him and you’d make me look good because I have at least one friend who’s, you know, got a future.” They hit a pothole and Sarah’s thoughts were ripped back into the present. Dean was pulling into a parallel parking spot on a seedy street with a row of small houses, all with bars on the windows. Sarah pulled out her phone and tried for the third time to send a quick text to her mom. But she still couldn’t get any reception. It was weird because they weren’t in the boonies or anything; they were in the heart of Los Angeles. Dean parked the car and Sarah put her phone back in her purse. If reception was still bad in his house, she’d use his landline. After all, her mom was pretty understanding, but going hours without giving a courtesy call was definitely against family rules. As they walked up the path to the house, Sarah could already hear the thumping beat of music. A tingle of uncertainly coursed through her body but she ignored it. Dean banged loudly on the front door and waited while someone inside undid what sounded like multiple separate locks. Finally, the door opened a crack to reveal a guy whose face was hidden under a mass of long, unkempt hair. The strong smell of pot wafted out and hit Sarah so unexpectedly that she started coughing. The guy saw Dean and gave him a fist bump, then opened the door wide to let them all in. Lanie stepped in and Sarah stayed close behind her. Blocking the foyer from the rest of the house was a large red velvet curtain, like something out of a cheesy magician’s act. As the long-haired guy relocked the doors behind them, Dean pulled back the curtain and directed them into the living room. Sarah was shocked by what she saw. The room was packed full with couches, love seats, and beanbag chairs. On each of them were couples making out and in some cases, doing much more. All of the girls looked to be Sarah’s age and most looked drugged up. A few even appeared to be passed out, which didn’t stop the guys, all of whom looked older, from doing their thing. The vaguely unsettled feeling she’d had walking up to the house returned, but much stronger now. This is not a place I want to be. The air was thick with pot and something sweeter and stronger that Sarah didn’t recognize. Almost on cue, Dean handed Lanie a joint. She took a long drag before offering it to Sarah, who declined. She decided she’d had enough of this place, which looked like the set of an old porno. She took out her phone to order an Uber but found she still had no reception. “Dean,” she shouted over the music, “I need to call my mom to let her know I’ll be late but I can’t get a connection. Do you have a landline?” “Of course. There’s one in my bedroom. I’ll show you,” he offered, once again flashing that broad, warm smile before turning to Lanie. “Babe, would you get me a beer from the kitchen? It’s that way.” Lanie nodded and headed in the direction he’d pointed and Dean motioned for Sarah to follow him down a hall. She wasn’t sure why she’d lied about needing to call her mom. But something about this situation made her feel like it wouldn’t be well received if she said she wanted to bail. Dean opened a door at the end of the hall and stepped aside to let her enter. She looked around but didn’t see a phone. “Where’s your landline?” she asked, turning back to Dean as she heard a door lock. She saw that he’d already turned the deadbolt and was attaching the chain lock near the top of the bedroom door. “Sorry,” he said, shrugging but not sounding apologetic at all. “I must have moved it to the kitchen. I guess I forgot.” Sarah weighed how aggressive she needed to be. Something was very wrong here. She was in a locked bedroom in what appeared to be something close to a brothel in a seedy part of Little Armenia. She wasn’t sure how effective calling him out would be under the circumstances. Be sweet. Act ignorant. Just get out. “That’s okay,” she said perkily, “let’s just go to the kitchen then.” As she spoke she heard a toilet flush. She turned to see the bathroom door open, revealing a huge Hispanic guy wearing a white T-shirt that rode up on his enormous, hairy belly. His head was shaved and he had a long beard. Behind him on the linoleum floor of the bathroom lay a girl who couldn’t have been more than fourteen. She had on only panties and appeared to be passed out. Sarah felt her chest tighten and her breathing get shallow. She tried to hide the growing panic she felt. “Sarah, this is Chiqy,” Dean said. “Hi, Chiqy,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm. “Sorry to cut this short but I’m just headed to the kitchen to make a call. Dean, if you could just unlock the door for me.” She decided that instead of trying to find the kitchen, where she doubted she’d see a phone anyway, she was heading straight for the front door. Once outside, she’d flag someone down for a ride. Then she’d call 911 to get help for Lanie. “Let me get a better look at you,” Chiqy ordered in a gravelly voice, ignoring what she’d said. Sarah turned to see the massive man eyeing her up and down. After a moment, he licked his lips. Sarah felt the urge to vomit. “What do you think?” Dean asked him eagerly. “I think we put her in a sundress with pigtails and we got a solid earner here.” “I’m going to go now,” Sarah said and hurried over to the door. To her surprise, Dean stepped aside, looking amused. “You used the dampener so she couldn’t call or text?” she heard Chiqy ask from somewhere behind her. “Yep,” Dean answered. “I watched her real close. She tried a lot but never seemed to get a connection. Did you, Sarah?” She fumbled with the chain lock and almost had it off when a huge shadow suddenly blocked out the light. She started to turn but before she could, she felt a sharp thud on the back of head and then everything went black.