Wren’s Apartment

Los Angeles, California

Two Days Later…

 

Wren sat in a chair and stared at the notes and photographs on the wall of her bedroom, her mind almost idle as her eyes moved from one familiar piece of evidence to the next. She’d gone almost eight months now without adding anything new to the collection. She was hoping to add something new soon.

Mastiff Security had access to databases it shouldn’t. Databases that only high officials in law enforcement should have access to. The private sector was funny that way, finding ways around laws, using loopholes to get access to things that could prove dangerous if the wrong person was on the other side of the keyboard. The cop in her was offended by the whole thing. The woman who’d been struggling with this one case for so long she couldn’t remember when she wasn’t struggling with it, was excited by the possibilities it could, potentially, open up.

She’d already run the victim’s name through a dozen databases. She was hoping to get a hit soon.

Anything would help.

Absolutely anything.

“Wren? Why are you always hiding in here?” Brad stuck his head through the door. “This is morbid, you know.”

“Thank you.” She brushed a hand over the side of her face, not moving her eyes from the familiar collection. “You sound like my father.”

“Your father’s a good man, so I take that as a compliment.”

“He is. But his opinions on this are why I moved out of his house.”

“Then I’ll keep my opinions to myself.” Brad sighed. “You have a call.”

Wren tugged her cell phone out of her pocket, surprised to find it fully charged and absent of notifications. Who would call the house phone?

She followed him out into the living room and snatched up the landline receiver. “Wren Ryland.”

“Hey, Wren. It’s Walter Montgomery. We worked together briefly at the twenty-third?”

“I remember. How are you, Walter?”

“Good, good. I was calling because I heard you head Mastiff Security these days. Is that right?”

“It is.”

“Didn’t you hire Andres Maldonado to work for you?”

“What’s this about, Walter?”

“Thought you’d want to know that Maldonado is booked at the county jail under another last name.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“I’m on the front desk at county lockup. I saw them bring him in.”

“And you’re sure it’s him?”

“Positive.”

“What’s the charge?”

There was a slight pause and the sound of shuffling paper. “Possession with intent to sell.”

“Drugs?”

“They found nearly fifty thousand dollars and a half pound of marijuana on him.”

Wren shook her head as though he could see her. She could feel Brad’s eyes on her, knew he was watching her reaction. “Andres wouldn’t be that dumb.”

“That’s the charge. He was brought in with five young men, each with varying amounts of cocaine on them. They’ve all been charged as well.”

“Has anyone been to visit them, anyone making any attempts at getting them out?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Walter.”

“You did me a solid once. Just returning the favor.”

Wren set the phone down, wishing she remembered Walter or whatever she once did for him. She couldn’t.

 

***

 

The visitor’s area was crowded with people in torn and dirty clothing, children with food stuck to their sad faces. Wren waded in, feeling conspicuous in her linen slacks and her silk blouse. She pulled on her cardigan and held it close against her while she waited.

When it was her turn, Wren sat in front of the computer monitor, waiting for Andres’ face to appear on the screen. She was aware their conversation would be monitored. All the way there, she’d struggled with what to say to him, not wanting to compromise the case or his position in the jail. Why no one else had figured out who he really was, she didn’t understand. She’d spent most of the night and part of the morning looking at his case in both the police’s and court’s databases. Apparently, his fingerprints had been mislabeled or misplaced, which might explain most of it. But still. He was a familiar face among the cops in this town after that shooting four months ago. It had to be an absolute miracle that no one had put it together.

Andres’ face finally filled the screen. Wren picked up the receiver and forced a smile.

“Hey.”

His eyes moved slowly over her face. He was clearly a man happy to see someone familiar, someone friendly.

“How are you holding up?”

He shrugged. “It’s definitely better on the other side.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

He shook his head. “A friend is already working on it. There’s rumors we’ll be out by tomorrow.”

“That’s good. But I might be able to get you out today.”

“No, that’s fine. Friday is what’s important here.”

Wren nodded, impressed—but not surprised—that he was still working the case despite this dark turn. “And if you aren’t out in time?”

“Next Friday will probably work, too.”

“Are you sure you’re up to that?”

He tilted his head slightly. “What choice do I have? I made a commitment.”

Wren sighed, wishing she knew more men who had that sort of moral compass. When was the last time a man had been this willing to stick his neck out for her? If only she’d felt the sort of attraction to Andres that she wanted to feel for the man who turned her head over heels. He was a good man. He’d make a good partner for some lucky woman.

“I do have one request,” he said, his eyes growing slightly wider as they filled with caution.

“What’s that?”

“Could you go by my place, make sure everything’s secure there?”

He was clearly just as aware as she was that they were being monitored. The last thing he wanted was for some guard to slip something about his child to a jail snitch.

She should have thought about his daughter herself the moment she heard he was in jail.

“I’ll take care of it.”

Relief washed across his face. “Thanks.”

“We protect our own, Andres. I told you that.”

He just nodded, sliding the receiver back into its place on his end. The computer screen went blank a second later, his departing back the last thing she saw.

She hated leaving there without him, hated feeling like she could do nothing for him. But, sometimes, this was the job.