The second I hung up, I called David Taft. Officer Taft worked the same precinct as Uncle Bob and had a departed little sister who liked to visit me at the worst times possible. Namely any. We weren’t exactly friends, Taft and I. Which might explain the cold reception.
“Taft,” he said when he picked up.
“Hey, Charley Davidson here.” When he didn’t say anything, I continued. “I have a client who says you’re her liaison at the precinct. Harper Lowell?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell. So, you’re back?”
“I was never gone. She claims someone is stalking her. Trying to kill her.”
“I know who you’re talking about. We never got anything on any stalker.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I didn’t. Until I spoke to her parents.”
Well, well. I was starting to like him. “Why is that?”
“I don’t know. They seemed a little too eager to convince me their daughter was crazy.”
“I got the exact same feeling.”
“So, she hired you?”
“Yep. Did you ever find any evidence at all?” I couldn’t hide the hope in my voice.
“Nothing that couldn’t be explained away as a crazy woman seeking attention. Stuffed rabbits aren’t exactly life-threatening.”
“When they’re not stuffed and they’re placed on your bed while you sleep with their throats cut, they are.”
“Look, I’m not arguing with you. We just never found any evidence to corroborate her story.”
Just when I was starting to like him. “And I’m sure you tried really hard.”
“I tried, Davidson,” he said, adding a sharp edge to his voice.
“Okay, okay. You don’t have to get obstinate.”
“Have you seen my sister?”
Taft’s sister died when they were young, and she’d recently decided that haunting me was more fun than following her brother around day in and day out. It took him a while to believe that I could see her and talk to her and grow uncharacteristically homicidal by her annoying habit of asking question after question. But once he realized I was the real deal, he’d decided to keep tabs on her through me. Joy of joys.
“Not lately,” I said. “She’s spending a lot of time at Rocket’s.”
“You mean that abandoned mental hospital where you talk to ghosts?”
“Yes, and I only talk to one ghost. Rocket. He has a little sister, and she and your little sister get along famously. I’m going to check on them soon. I’ll let you know how she is.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate—”
Yeah, yeah. “If you hear anything.”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
“In case your sister asks, are you still dating skanks?”
A light chuckle filtered into my ear. “No. Well, not for the most part.”
“Okay. Don’t make me come down there and kick your skank-lovin’ ass.”
“I’ll try not to let that threat keep me up nights.”
“Good luck.”
I hung up and took in a long breath, deciding it was time. Harper’s brother would have gone home for the day by now, and I still didn’t have a home address on him, so I’d have to catch him at work on the morrow. If Cookie was right, he worked for some kind of energy-conservation company, but tonight I had bigger issues. I straightened my shoulders and tightened my grip on the steering wheel, because tonight I had a dragon to slay. A dragon named Reyes Farrow.
* * *
I steered Misery through the warehouse district of Albuquerque near the railroad tracks downtown. A cold rain tumbled in sheets down my windshield, but one never complained about the rain in such an arid climate. Complaining about rain in Albuquerque would be like complaining about sunshine in Seattle. So I wasn’t complaining so much as bemoaning the fact that I had to drive in it. Hard rain made it almost impossible to see the road. Hopefully, whoever owned those trash cans I’d sideswiped would understand that.
After idling on a side street for a bit, watching through chain link as car after car entered a fenced-in area, I decided to grow some balls and go through, too. How bad could this be? I removed Margaret and stuffed her under my seat before heading in.
A gigantic man in a black plastic poncho held up a hand to stop me the minute I drove past the entrance. I stopped. Partly because he was massive and partly because pulling off that look was awe-inspiring.
I unzipped my window, wondering if I should think about getting a car with all the latest gadgets. I could do without unzipping windows, but Misery was such a part of me, I couldn’t imagine my life without her. Unless my new ride sported a jaguar on the hood. Then I’d kick Misery to the curb faster than a crushed aluminum can.
I patted the dash. “Just kidding, girl. I’d never abandon you. Unless you catch fire and I have to run for my life.”
As if launching a comeback, she sputtered and shimmied before returning back to her normal purr. Such sass. We were totally made for each other.
“You a cop?” the poncho guy asked.
“No, but I dated one once.”
He raised a flashlight and scanned Misery’s innards. Sadly, all he’d find was a mishmash of files, a couple of jackets, and basic survival gear that consisted mainly of Cheez-Its and an emergency stash of Thin Mints. Frickin’ Girl Scouts. Those things were way too addictive. They had to be laced with crack.