City of Angels Page 16

  I had told Danny earlier I wasn’t sure I’d be able to recognize the front of Kozlak’s house. After an hour of cruising up and down PCH listening to the radio at full volume with the windows down, I’d given up. So many houses seemed the same from the road. I decided the next best thing would be to find the parking lot where I had met the surfers. Maybe that would be easier. I tried not to think about those boys. I couldn’t. Not today.

  Finally, when the sun was directly overhead, the breeze had died, and a sheen of sweat glistened on Danny’s upper lip, I spotted the parking lot where the surfers had picked me up. And where their bodies had been found. We parked, rolled up the cuffs of our jeans, and stripped off our shoes, tucking them in the trunk. It would be easier to traverse the long stretch of beach barefoot.

  In the heat, I felt a sudden chill as we crossed over the spot where I had first hopped into the surfer’s van. This might have been right where those boys died. And now I was going to the house of the man who probably had killed them or had them killed. Although the hot sun was beating down on me so brilliantly I had to squint, a sudden darkness swooped down upon my heart. We hopped the sea wall and headed for the wet sand. I looped my bag with my camera in it over my shoulder, so it hung down my back.

  “You sure you can recognize Big Shot’s house?”

  “Yeah,” I said, panting as we walked. I remember looking back at the house and seeing him watching me from the deck.

  I wished I’d brought a bottle of water or something. The exertion of trudging through sand knocked back some of the anxious pressure filling my chest. After a few minutes walking, I spotted the deck and the wall of windows behind it.

  “Now what?” Danny asked, wiping his brow. He had stripped down to a thin tee and tied his flannel shirt around his head.

  As we drew closer, I saw that the wooden plank walkway led from the beach to a side door on the lower part of the house. I tried the handle. It was unlocked. I opened it a few inches. The slivered opening revealed it was a laundry and mudroom. The clanging of a washing machine and dryer filtered out. I swung the door open. The maid was standing there folding laundry. I didn’t know which one of us screamed louder.

  “Dios me ayude,” she said, patting her chest.

  “It’s okay. Lo siento.” I’m sorry was one of the few new phrases I had learned from the kitchen staff at Little Juan’s. Sunshine poured into the cheerful laundry room through the open door, making the house seem harmless and cozy, not the monstrosity from my nightmares.

  “Do you remember me?”

  Her eyes grew wide.

  “Si. Yes. You ran away.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Why you here?”

  “My friend. She’s twelve. Her name’s Rain. Blond hair. Pink streaks. She was also here that night. Kozlak was keeping her locked up.”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “Locked up?”

  “This girl.” I held out Rain’s photo. It was one I had developed when I took the roll in with the black car’s license plate number. She was leaning against my apartment wall, her head tilted back and a small smile on her face.

  The woman took it the picture and shook her head. “She’s little girl?”

  I was baffled. She didn’t know Rain at all? But Kozlak had kept Rain locked up the whole time.

  “Is there a room, maybe a secret room, Mr. Kozlak keeps locked?”

  She gave Danny a wary glance. He said something in Spanish that made her seem to relax. She nodded and ushered us in the doorway. We followed her down a set of stairs to a large room set up as a home movie theater, complete with a screen that stretched across the entire twelve-foot wall and plush red velvet seats in rows. There was even an old-fashioned popcorn machine in the back. She pointed toward a door and said, “There. Locked.” She sighed. “Is only for garage. And elevator.”

  Elevator? I was heading toward the door, my heart leapfrogging in my throat. “Elevator to what?”

  She shrugged. “I no have key.”

  She turned to me so suddenly I jumped. “Girl. Yes, girl here. But gone now. With you, right?”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice rising. “But she might be here again.”

  “No,” the maid said. “Not here now.”

  A rumbling overhead made her grab my arm, her eyes wide, darting down to a tiny gold watch on her wrist. “Housecleaners.”

  “You don’t clean?”

  The woman gave me a look like I was crazy. “I run house. Not clean. Laundry is my own clothes.”

  I started to head back up the stairs, but she stopped me, pulling me back and toward a small door. “No time. They come down here now. They see you.” She fumbled with some keys and unlocked a door that led into a small room. She opened a door and gestured for us to enter. “I come later.”

  Danny didn’t quite trust her. “How do we know you’re not gonna keep us locked up until the big guy gets home?”

  I also hesitated. Flashes of my nightmare clouded my vision—me running down hallways chased by the icy fingers of death. The noises overhead grew louder, voices and footsteps. The woman scoffed and pushed us into the open door.

  “I don’t think we have a choice.” I pulled Danny in with me and closed the door behind us. The sound of the maid turning the key in the lock sent a chill down my spine.

  In the dark, we listened. It wasn’t long before we heard the sound of Spanish-speaking voices and a vacuum cleaner. Then the sounds moved overhead, on the floor above. I tried the door. Yep. Locked.

  After a few seconds of silence, when we were sure everyone had moved upstairs, Danny flicked open the Zippo I had bought him for Christmas and held it before us. The walls were lined with shelves. Some had books, but most had videos. Well, that made sense.

  As Danny moved the lighter across the shelves, I saw something that made my heart leap into my throat. It was that book Insights. And not just one copy—more than a dozen. My face grew warm. Was that what the homeless guy was trying to tell me, that Kozlak had Rain? She could be here.

  Then the lighter lit up a small section of videos where the spines contained single names where the titles would be. Names of girls. Kelly, Brittany, Jane, Sara, Madison. Christy. Jessica. Kate. Oh my God. They were probably porn. Maybe even child porn. I scanned them all and felt relief when I didn’t see Rain’s name among them.

  “Stop!”

  Danny’s arm froze. “Cabron!” he whispered under his breath. One video didn’t have a name, but a gold star on the spine. I grabbed that and two of the other videos, stuffing them into my bag.

  “Evidence.” I was planning on going to the cops. Now it wouldn’t just be my word against Chad’s and Kozlak’s. Now, I would have proof.

  The other shelves contained recognizable movie titles and obscure film equipment. Bored with snooping, we slumped to the ground with our backs against the one wall without shelving. I wasn’t sure how long it had been, but it felt like we’d been in the room for an eternity.

  “Damn, I’m dying for a cig,” Danny said.

  “Me, too.”

  “Should we?”

  I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me in the dark. God, we were horrible influences on each other. Kozlak smoked himself so he probably wouldn’t notice the smell later. I started packing my box of smokes in answer to Danny’s question.

  He lit it for me and we shared it.

  “Probably should only have one.” I said.

  “Yeah, just this one.”

  We smoked and waited. Two cigarettes later, footsteps tromped down the stairs leading into the lower level. We stubbed out our smokes on the concrete floor and froze when we heard the steps stop right in front of the door. The crack of light that entered the room momentarily blinded me and I held my hand up to shield my eyes.

  “Vamos.” The maid batted her hand, trying to wave away the smoke that came out of the room. “They are in the front of the house. You must leave now.”

  We stumbled into the light, blinking. I ran over to locked door that led to the garage
and elevator and yanked the handle. Nothing. I wished I had a screwdriver, but it didn’t look like the kind of handle that could be taken off. I pounded on the door with both fists. “Rain?” I whispered as loudly as I dared, putting my mouth to the seal of the door. “Rain?”

  “Shhh. No girl there,” the maid said. “I hear nothing. To garage. And elevator.”

  “But where does the elevator go?”

  The maid just pressed her lips together and shook her head, lifting her shoulders.

  I pounded again, putting my ear to the thick door. Nothing. Danny jutted his chin toward the stairs. The floor above us squeaked as people moved across it.

  “Hurry.” The maid ushered us to the laundry room. I looked behind me at the heavy door as we left. A glacial wave of fear rippled across my scalp and down my back.

  We all met back in my room the next morning. Eve brought up a pot of coffee and mugs from the café and we sat cross-legged in a circle on my wooden floor. Danny had borrowed a small TV with a built-in VCR player from a girl on the first floor. After we heard reports back from everyone’s day, we were going to see what was on the videotapes from Kozlak’s house.

  John and Eve told us they had waited around for hours, watching Andy Martin flirt with women in the bar after his comedy show until he left at last call with a young woman on his arm. They followed him back to his Bel Air bungalow.

  “From the looks of that place, if Rain was there, she’d have to be in bed with him and that girl,” Eve said. “It was like a one-room little cabin.”

  “Did you see inside?”

  Eve giggled. “There was a crack in the curtains. That boy needed to drink some more coffee or something. He fell asleep. His girl was not happy.”

  “There was a big room with a kitchen on one side and a bathroom,” John said. “No place to hide someone.”

  “Okay.” That didn’t mean he hadn’t grabbed her and dumped her somewhere.

  “Did you see any drug stuff, like needles or something, on the dresser or whatever?”

  “They drank some wine,” John said. “That was it.”

  “Thanks, guys. I bet you’re exhausted.”

  Eve sleepily nodded and gave a slow wink. “Not the first time we’ve pulled an all-nighter, is it, honey?” She wrapped her arms through John’s and closed her eyes.

  Taj was next. He followed the bad boy actor from the movie lot. “Get this,” he said with a grin that stopped my heart a little. “He went straight to some tiny yoga studio.”

  Macklin? I’d have thought he’d rushed to meet a high-priced call girl in his hotel room.

  “Stayed a few hours. Tailed him to the Chateau Marmont. Put my ear to the door—snoring and Jay Leno. I did ask the receptionist if she’d ever seen the big stud with a young girl. Get this—said the only woman she’d seen him with over the last six months was his wife, who came over to visit from Ireland.”

  “Wife?” Sadie choked out. “He’s supposed to be the biggest player around.”

  “Not so big, I guess,” Taj said.

  Then it was Sadie’s turn. She’d sweet-talked a crewmember on the film into following Walker home. Unfortunately, the guy drove a beater car that died at a stoplight on Melrose and Western Boulevards. They lost him.

  “Oops.” Sadie looked sheepish, her long lashes fluttering against her cheekbones. “I’ll head back over today. Find a guy with a more reliable car.”

  Next, Danny filled them in on our visit to the director’s Malibu house, saving the videotapes for me. He told them Kozlak was obviously connected to The Church of the Evermore and Everlasting because of all those Insights books in the closet.

  “There is definitely some connection if we could just figure out what it is. The maid said there was no way Rain was there, but I don’t know,” he said, telling them about the locked door and elevator. “If these tapes show what we think they will, we’ve got something to go to the cops with, so maybe they’ll believe us and search the Malibu house.”

  That was our plan. Take the videos to the cops and have them go to the house to rescue Rain.

  “Nikki, why don’t you tell them what you think the tapes are about.”

  My mouth felt like I had sucked on a dry sponge. First, I reminded them that Kozlak had wanted me to be in a porn flick starring kids because I looked so young. I swallowed hard and avoided eye contact. I held up a tape.

  “This is probably child porn.”

  “That sick bastard,” Sadie said, her eyes narrowing in anger as she took a long puff off her cigarette.

  “I know,” I said. “I think we should just watch a bit of it to see what is on it, mainly to check whether it is kids, but if it gets graphic, we turn it off. Deal? But if it is a kid, then we need to take it to the cops. Maybe Ernie?” I turned to Sadie.

  “That drunk?” she scoffed. “No, if this operation is as big as you think it might be, who knows how far the church’s influence reaches. The church obviously has some connection to LAPD or those cops wouldn’t have taken away those men in masks. Didn’t they tell you not to trust the cops?”

  I nodded and she continued. “Something is very fishy with that whole situation. Let’s give the tape to Amir and see what he says.”

  Amir was the most responsible adult we knew. He would know what to do with it. Danny inserted the video with the star on it, pressed play, and we all sat back. I was biting my fingernails. Sadie was tapping her foot. John was tugging on his goatee. Danny perched by the TV, ready to turn it off if it became too much, which we were certain would happen. Sure enough, the first frame showed a naked teenage girl lying spread-eagle on a giant bed. The room was silent.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Danny said, and punched the pause button with one finger.

  But something about it caught my eye. “Wait. Press play again, just for a second.”

  The picture came into focus. I was right. The girl wasn’t there by choice. She was restrained. Tethers strapped to the four corners of the bed bound her wrists and ankles.

  “Good God. They are in the movie against their will. It’s rape.” I put my fist up to my mouth as both fury and horror shot through me.

  Danny pressed the pause button. He slammed his fist into the wall. “Mierda.” He began pacing, jerking his head back and forth and shaking his fist.

  At first, the room was dead silent, and then people exploded in sound and movement.

  Sadie jumped to her feet, legs planted wide and teeth bared, lips curled back. “That’s it. I’m taking my gun and I’m going to that motherfucker’s house and shoving it up his ass.”

  John’s eyes were cold and flinty as he comforted Eve, putting his arm around her and hugging her close. Her shoulders drooped and her chin was wobbling. “Oh my God. Those poor girls,” she said.

  Taj sat there with his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. When his eyes met mine, he looked right through me. His intense blue eyes had turned nearly black with fury. He shook his head in disgust, his jaw tensed tightly.

  I felt like sparks of anger were shooting out of my eyes. I wanted to take my steel-toed boot and kick out the window overlooking the street. Kozlak gotten away with this and worse. I had seen at least two dozen girls’ names on the spines of videotapes.

  It was revolting, but we needed to keep playing the tape.

  I turned to the others. My voice was calm and precise. “I’m going to fast-forward to the end. I understand if you need to leave the room.”

  They all stared at me.

  “I’m sorry,” said Eve, heading toward the door with John. “I can’t stay.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’ll talk to you later,” I said, giving her a small smile.

  The door closed behind them. I looked at my friends’ faces.

  “Ready?”

  They nodded. Danny hit fast-forward so the images were jerky and blurred. I tried not to focus on it, instead vaguely taking in the images of pink and beige flesh moving around on the screen. None of us looked directl
y at the screen. Taj was back to having his head in his hands, occasionally glancing up at the TV before focusing on the cigarette in the ashtray between his legs. Sadie paced the room, peering out the window in between glances at the screen.

  “I just want to see how it ends,” I said in a whisper. I didn’t tell them why. I didn’t tell them that Chad’s words that night in Malibu rang in my ears. “Maybe I’ll put you in a different flick, one you’ll never have a chance to see.”

  The little strip on the bottom of the screen indicated that the movie was almost over so I turned my attention back to the TV. “Okay, slow this part down to real time.”

  Then I was on my hands and knees with Taj holding my hair back as I vomited into a plastic bag. Danny was rubbing my back. Sadie had stamped out of the room; slamming the door so hard it knocked my lamp onto the floor.

  It was not just child porn. It was a snuff flick. With a teenage girl.

  I made myself watch the last part of the movie twice. I never wanted to see something like that again. Ever. But I had to watch it again because something about the man in the video seemed familiar. I never quite saw his face, just his naked body. The person filming was careful about that. I paused the movie. The man had a small tattoo on his wrist. The tattoo had been covered with makeup or something, but some had worn off, revealing a small portion. I grabbed the magazine I had taken from the library and scanned for the picture. Yep, the same small tattoo of a scorpion. In the video, I could only see a tiny piece of the scorpion’s tail.

  It was Rex Walker.

  That son of a bitch was raping kids. And strangling them. That was why people were dying. The church was trying to protect his horrid little secret. And Big Shot Director was in on it.

  How could Kozlak and Walker be getting away with this? I’d seen at least two dozen names on the sides of those videotape cases in Kozlak’s closet. Then it struck me: they preyed on lost children. Children nobody cared about.