Mermaids in the Pacific (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 2) Read online

  “What’s going on?” He stopped in front of her and she could see the vein bulging in his forehead. “What’s going on? You’re turning my people against me. You’re trying to take over.”

  She took a step back, shocked. “I am not.”

  “Aren’t you? You come in here all charming and sweet. Bambi falls all over herself for any crumb you toss her way and now Tank. You’ve got Tank ignoring my orders to follow you on a wild goose chase.” He pointed at the library. “In all the years we’ve worked together, Tank has never once contradicted me. Not once.”

  “Radar, I’m not trying to take over. I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing half the time. You’re our leader and I’m happy for you to take that role. If I’ve overstepped my boundaries, I’m sorry. It was an innocent mistake on my part. I’m used to working with a partner, not a team. With my partner, it got so we could read each other’s thoughts. This...this is hard for me.”

  His look softened. “There will come a time for you to lead, Sparky.”

  “I don’t want that. I just want to solve this case. And to be honest with you, I only think this is marginally about me pushing my limits. I think this is about you. You’re scared of getting in the middle of this cult thing.”

  He looked away.

  “Am I right?”

  “You’re not wrong.”

  “What’s freaking you out, Radar? Tell me.”

  “These things always go bad, Sparky. I’ve seen it a hundred times. Waco, Ruby Ridge, Jonestown. They go horribly wrong and a lot of innocent people die.” He paced away and came back, removing his sunglasses. “The case when Arthur died?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We were breaking up a dog fighting ring in Petaluma, but actually the participants we were after lived in a mobile home park in Guerneville. They were all supporting each other, buying groceries together, paying the rent with proceeds from the dog fighting.”

  “They were like a commune.”

  “Yeah.” He looked away, shaking his head. “We didn’t know what the hell we were walking into. They were armed to the teeth and high. Arthur, as always, was first one in. They opened fire. They riddled him with bullets.” His voice trailed off and he swiped a hand across his nose. “He never knew what hit him.”

  “How many people died?”

  Radar blinked and glanced up at her. “Seven perps and three of our guys. One took a bullet in the spine. Been in a wheelchair ever since. We had to shoot fifteen dogs that day. Fifteen. They just came at us, crazy from abuse and neglect. I can still hear them crying.”

  Peyton blinked back tears. “I’m so sorry, Radar.”

  He gave a laugh and swiped at his nose again. “So when you say we’ve got to go on that farm, my guts twist inside and I think I’m gonna vomit. It always goes bad, Sparky. It always goes wrong on these things.”

  “Okay.” She ran a hand down his arm. “Okay, Radar. So what do you want us to do? What’s our next move?”

  He stared at her hand a moment, then he blinked hard a few times. “We need to find Finn Getter. Let’s find that kid and ask him what the hell we face if we go in there. If we’re gonna do it, let’s at least go in there knowing exactly what we’re doing.”

  * * *

  Radar’s words haunted Peyton as she drove to the grocery store on her way home. It always goes wrong on these things. He wanted them to find Finn Getter. Even with the prodigious resources of the FBI at her fingertips, that was a tall order. How many people came to San Francisco every single day and disappeared on her streets?

  God, she wanted to call Marco and ask his advice. He’d have some idea how to begin the search, but she couldn’t do that. Marco would so not welcome a call about work from her. So what would he suggest? He’d tell her to check shelters, employment offices, churches. That was a start.

  She parked the Prius and got out, walking toward the grocery store. She hadn’t bothered to remove her gun, but it was hidden under her suit jacket and her badge hung from her belt. She could show that in an instant if anyone questioned her. She just needed a few things, then she was going home to soak in the bathtub in lilac scented oil. Maybe it would relax her enough where she could sleep.

  Snagging a grocery cart, she wandered down the aisles, grabbing what she needed. The cabinets were getting bare and Pickles was starting to feel neglected without his regular doggy biscuits. Scraps from her plate were fine for a few days, but Pickles was a dog who liked his cookies. Marco had gotten him hooked on this particular brand and as long as Marco had been at the house, Pickles had never done without. Since he’d left, Peyton hadn’t been much in the mood to get food. She knew that was wrong. The one constant in her life, the one person who never left her, was Pickles and here she was letting him down.

  She grabbed the box and threw it in the grocery cart. Shit. She was feeling maudlin tonight, missing Marco more than she wanted to admit, but she hated herself when she was maudlin. Straightening from her slump over the cart, she picked up the pace.

  Pretend you’re up and full of fire and maybe you’d trick yourself into believing it.

  Turning the corner, she nearly ran her cart into another shopper. He pulled up at the last minute just before impact.

  “Whoa!”

  Peyton blinked at him in surprise. She recognized the weathered face and blond hair, the piercing green eyes.

  “Mike?”

  “Peyton?” He gave a delighted laugh. “Wow!”

  “What are you doing here?”

  He looked at his shopping cart. “Oh, shit. I’m doing it again. Sleep shopping.”

  She laughed. “I’m sorry. Stupid question.”

  “Not at all. So, what’s a classy lady like you doing in a place like this?”

  She lifted the doggy biscuits. “Trying to keep the longest relationship I’ve ever had.”

  “Ah, I see.” He smiled, lighting up his eyes, then he looked her over. “Hm. Does the generic black suit give me a clue as to your employment?”

  Peyton fingered her badge. “FBI.”

  He reared back. “No shit.” Leaning closer, he dropped his voice. “Do you have a gun?”

  She opened her suit jacket and showed the butt of her gun.

  He gave her a sultry look. “Now that’s hot, lady.”

  She laughed. “Great. Look, why are you shopping here? I thought you lived in South City.”

  “That’s my mom’s place. I finally got a flat in the Avenues. Moved in yesterday.” He glanced down and fingered the corner on one of his boxes. “Look, Peyton, I really had a nice time with you the other night.”

  She nodded.

  “I wasn’t lying. I felt a connection.”

  “Mike.”

  “No, let me finish, please. I get that you’re just leaving a relationship, but I thought maybe we could spend some time together. No pressure. No expectations. What do you say?”

  Peyton crossed her arms on the handle of the grocery cart, leaning on it. God, she was tired. “I say no. It wouldn’t be fair to you. I’m not over my fiancé and I’m not sure I’ll ever be. That was sort of the problem before we got together, and I don’t think it’s ended.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I measured every man by him and they always came up wanting in my eyes. You deserve better than that.”

  He gave a wry nod. “I see.”

  “I’m sorry, Mike.”

  “No, I get it. He must be something, huh?”

  She shrugged.

  “But we can be friends, right? You can never have too many friends.”

  Peyton offered him a gentle smile. “I don’t think that would work either. I’m sorry.”

  He held up a hand. “No problem. Well, it was worth a try. I mean, come on, girl. You’re the total package. Smart, funny, sexy and…you carry a gun.”

  A laugh slipped out of Peyton. “You’re not making this easy, Barnabas.”

  He chuckled at her use of his middle name and moved his cart close to he
rs. Leaning toward her, he winked. “That’s the point, baby. See you around.”

  She gave him a nod and he pushed his cart down the aisle she’d just left. Peyton quickly finished up the rest of her shopping and moved to the check-out. He waved to her from a checker a few rows down. She held up a hand.

  Shit. Would she ever feel like dating again? Did she even want to try? Every single time, it ended and it ended badly. She didn’t seem able to hold a man’s interest for more than a few months. Marco had been her longest relationship.

  She watched the checker pass the groceries over the scanner, thinking of Marco. Marco hadn’t been like any of the others. She’d seen a future with him, she’d seen them growing old together. How did she just give up on that? How did she move on from the one man she’d loved more than anyone else?

  She wasn’t aware of Mike leaving the store, but as she paid for her purchases, a commotion outside the store drew her out of her thoughts. A few workers ran to the entrance and out the automatic doors. Some customers walked to the windows, looking out, trying to see past bags of charcoal and barbecue paraphernalia.

  Peyton thanked the checker, then grabbed her cart, wheeling it for the exit. Moving past the automatic doors, she came to a halt. A bicycle lay on its side in front of a blue pickup truck, groceries strewn in the parking lot. The driver’s door on the pickup was open and a crowd had formed to the left of the truck, just before its bumper. Peyton could see a man’s body between the legs of the crowd.

  She grabbed her badge and pushed into the circle. “FBI,” she said, then came to a halt.

  Mike sat on the ground, his head braced in his hands, a little blood trickling from a wound in his scalp. His shirt was torn and he had a few abrasions on his upper arms and shoulders. Peyton knelt beside him.

  “Mike, what the hell happened?”

  He glanced over at her with squinted eyes. “I wasn’t paying attention and I rode my bike into the pickup.”

  “I didn’t even see him!” said a middle aged man. “Suddenly he was there.”

  “Did you hit your head?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Did anyone call an ambulance?” she said, looking at the crowd. They refused to meet her gaze. “Did anyone—?”

  “I told them not to.”

  “What? You could have internal injuries, a concussion.”

  He reached for her arm and gripped it. “I don’t have insurance yet, Peyton.”

  “What about the VA? You were a soldier.”

  He gave her an arch look.

  “You’ve got to be seen by a doctor.”

  “No, I’m okay. Nothing’s broken. Help me get to my feet.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mike.”

  “No, really, I’m okay. It just rung my bell, but I’m feeling better. Help me get up, please.”

  She braced him as he pushed himself to his feet. Doubling over, he rubbed at his scrapes. “See, just a little banged up.”

  Peyton shook her head. “I still think we need to go to the hospital.”

  “Naw. I’ve been through worse. This is nothing compared to an IED going off beneath your tank.” He stretched his back, then his attention focused on his bike. The front tire was bent. “Oh shit.”

  “I didn’t see him,” said the man in the pick-up.

  Peyton pushed him back as Mike stumbled over to the bike. “Oh shit,” he repeated, grasping his head.

  “Mike, we need to have you checked by a doctor.”

  He leaned on the pickup. “I can’t go to the emergency room. I’ll wait all night and I can’t afford it. If I go to the VA, well, either I’ll be better or dead before I get to see a doctor.” He pressed his hands against his head. “How the hell will I get home?”

  Peyton didn’t know what to do. She was sure he needed a doctor, but he was refusing to go to the hospital. She could order the pickup guy to take him home, but that seemed like the coward’s way out of this mess. With a sigh, she knew she had no other choice.

  “I’ll take you, but I don’t have room for the bike.” She turned to the pickup driver. “Can you take it?”

  “I didn’t see him. He just came out of nowhere.”

  “You said that. Can you drive his bike to his house? Can you follow me?”

  “Yeah.” He paced away and came back again.

  Peyton pulled a card out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Write your information on the back of this.” She passed him a pen.

  He went to the pickup and began writing. Peyton retrieved her cart and started picking up Mike’s fallen groceries. A number of people helped her. The pickup driver returned with her card and hoisted the bike to his shoulder, carrying it to the bed. Peyton pointed at the Prius.

  “That’s my car. Just follow me.”

  Pickup guy nodded and climbed into his truck.

  Peyton grabbed Mike’s arm. “Come on. Hold onto the cart.”

  He grimaced as he straightened, but they made it to the car. Peyton opened the passenger side and helped him sit down, then she went to the back and popped the trunk, shoving all of the groceries inside. As she did so, she reached for her phone and called Abe.

  He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, little soul sista, how are you?”

  “Fine. Look, Abe, are you busy?”

  “Busy having a fine dining experience with an angel.”

  Peyton fought the wash of regret that swamped her, slamming the trunk shut. “Look, if you’ve got a few minutes, I need your help.”

  “Is something wrong, sweets?”

  “No, just a friend of mine took a tumble and I want you to look at him.”

  “Him?”

  Peyton pulled open the driver’s door and sank into the seat. “Yeah, I’ll explain later. Look, meet me at this address.” She nudged Mike and he rattled off the address, his arm braced on the window, his head resting against his hand. Peyton gave Abe the address, then started the Prius.

  “What’s going on, Peyton?”

  “Just come to that address, okay, Abe? Please, for me.”

  “I’m on my way. Do I need backup?”

  “God no!” she said breathlessly. “Whatever you do, don’t do that. Just you. Alone.”

  Abe didn’t respond for a moment and she used the silence to back the Prius out of the parking space. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she marked that the pickup had pulled up behind her.

  “I’ll be there in two shakes,” said Abe and disconnected.

  Peyton glanced over at Mike. He had his eyes closed, his fingers splayed across his forehead. “How you holding up?”

  “Jim Dandy. So who’s Abe?”

  “My best friend. He’s a coroner for the City.”

  “I’m not dead yet, Peyton.”

  She laughed. “He’s a doctor, he’s free, and he’s what you get unless you’ll let me take you to the hospital.”

  “I’ll take it. Especially if you play nurse.”

  Peyton rolled her eyes and pulled into traffic.

  Mike’s flat wasn’t far from her house on 19th. She pulled into the driveway and glanced in the rearview mirror as the pickup eased up to the curb. Climbing out, she hurried around and helped Mike out of the passenger side. He handed her his keys.

  “First door at the bottom of the stairs,” he said.

  She unlocked the outer gate and helped him to the door, sliding the key into the lock. Pickup guy followed her, carrying the bike. “Just set it down anywhere,” she said, motioning to a spot beneath the stairs. He set the bike down and waited, while she unlocked the door.

  “Can you get the loose groceries out of my trunk?” she ordered, pushing the button to release the trunk.

  He gave a grunt, but moved to do what she asked.

  Peyton helped Mike into the flat. They had to sidestep a number of boxes stacked along the walls. She found a light switch by the door and flipped it on as Mike moved to the couch and gingerly took a seat.

  Peyton wasn’t sure what to
do now, so she turned left and found a small kitchen with a door that led to a bathroom. Entering the bathroom, she searched through a couple of boxes on the floor until she found towels and washcloths. Rinsing one in cold water, she carried it into the other room and handed it to Mike.

  He was stretched out on the brown sofa, his feet on one arm, his head on another. He took the cloth and pressed it to the wound in his scalp. “Thanks. Any aspirin?”

  “Let’s wait until my friend gets here.”

  Pickup guy entered, carrying the groceries. “Where do you want these?”

  “Kitchen,” said Peyton, pointing over her shoulder. She shoved a box aside and took a seat on the coffee table next to Mike. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the hospital?”

  “I’m fine, Peyton. Just a little bump.” He patted the space next to him. “I’d be better if you’d sit next to me.”

  “I’m good.”

  Pickup guy came out of the kitchen. “Anything else?”

  “No,” said Peyton. “I’ve got your information if I need to get ahold of you.”

  He gave Mike a worried look, then went to the door, but came to an abrupt halt when Abe suddenly loomed in the entrance. He looked like a giant eggplant in his lavender get-up and wild dreadlocks.

  Pickup guy sidestepped him, giving him a bewildered once over, but Abe didn’t noticed, coming into the flat with his medical bag in hand. He came around the couch and stared down at Mike with a critical look on his face.

  “Mike, this is Abe,” she said.

  “Hey,” answered Abe.

  “Hey,” said Mike. “I think I’m hallucinating.”

  Peyton laughed and rose to her feet, hugging Abe, then she relinquished her spot and let Abe get to work. While Abe examined his patient, she wandered around the flat. A picture of Mike in an army ranger’s uniform with his fellow servicemen had been propped on a built-in bookcase. Next to it was a wooden box, open, showing a purple heart. Peyton touched the velvet lining the box and moved over to a picture of an older woman and Mike at a picnic. It must be his mother.

  There were few other personal effects. She figured they must be in boxes still. Turning, she watched as Abe examined Mike’s pupils and checked his reflexes. “Looks like just bumps and bruises,” he said, returning his stethoscope to his bag. “No sign of concussion.”