A Name in the Dark Read online

  Paige lets out a gasp.

  “Bennet reached out for me. I tried to reach out for him, but it was too late. He was already falling.” I rub my arm across my eyes, those stupid tears returning. “And he fell right on that stupid ugly wrought-iron fence.”

  I remember his face like it was yesterday—the horror when he was falling and looking at me. That was the last time I saw my brother alive. If only I could have held on. If only I never let go.

  “So the demon receded into me on purpose, just for a moment, so I could see my brother die.”

  Paige takes a moment to digest this new information about me. I wait, not sure how she’s going to react. Honestly, I’m not sure if she’ll judge me or fear me.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says with sincerity.

  “I let him go, Paige. He slipped right through my hands.”

  * * *

  The servers at Canter’s are rude, and the food is usually stale, which perfectly epitomizes the Los Angeles experience and explains why the restaurant has been around for ninety years. It’s basically a home for all of Los Angeles’s orphans—for people like Paige and me. It’s also the perfect place to decompress after a shit night like tonight and one of the few places open at four in the morning.

  The waitress pours us each some coffee without our asking. I order a spinach scramble, no sides. Paige orders a Denver omelet with a side of bacon, challah French toast, and half a grapefruit. Paige doesn’t say anything after the waitress leaves. Instead, she waits for me to indicate that I’m ready to speak.

  “David is investigating the murder,” I say.

  “Oh?” Her voice rises an octave and stretches the one word into two syllables.

  I can already tell what she’s thinking, but I’m eager to move past it. “It puts an added spotlight on me, so I have to be careful.”

  “What are we going to do next?”

  We. I enlisted Paige’s help in this case for the tech side. When I needed bait to lure Sebastian out, I pulled her in deeper. But after what I saw tonight, and after what happened to Lupe, I’m reluctant to keep her involved.

  “I don’t want you to be any part of this,” I tell her. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “All the more reason why you need someone by your side.”

  “This isn’t a normal missing-girl case anymore. I saw things last night that I have never seen before. Santa Muerte is real. And she’s trying to kill me.”

  “You need protection,” Paige says.

  “You can’t protect me from her.”

  “Well, we’re going to find out.”

  I know there’s no stopping Paige when she decides she’s going to do something. And I’m acutely aware of how stubborn I can be. When the food arrives, we eat in silence—an immovable object and an unstoppable force having a nice quiet breakfast at five in the morning.

  My phone rings, and it’s a number I don’t recognize. Curious who would be calling me at five in the morning, I answer. “Hello?”

  “Hello,” an automated voice responds. “This is City Librarian Charles Lynton. Due to the tragic events last night, the Los Angeles Central Library will be closed until further notice. There is no need to report to your normal shift until otherwise contacted by your supervisor…”

  I hang up, not interested in hearing the rest of the call. Paige looks at me, waiting. “Robocall” I say. “I don’t have to go to work today.”

  She nods then digs back into her grapefruit. We continue to eat in silence until Paige says, “Here’s what I think. If Santa Muerte came to kill you tonight, then Santa Muerte is trying to stop you from finding Elizabeth.”

  I’ve already reached that conclusion, but I play along. “Why?”

  She shrugs. “I mean, if you find her, then you’ll discover who kidnapped her. Right?”

  “Only in one particular scenario.”

  Paige sighs. I can see the wheels turning in her head.

  “Because,” I say, now using Paige as a sounding board, “Elizabeth must still be alive. Some person—or persons—kidnapped Elizabeth. And the only reason the person doesn’t want me even close to finding Elizabeth is because she’s alive. If she were dead, they could dump the body—who cares if I find her? But if she’s alive, they need her alive for some reason.” My mind shifts back to everything I know so far. “Sebastian said an old woman was involved. Fiona thinks it could be a lechuza—”

  I stop cold.

  Paige examines my face. “What is it?”

  “The owl,” I say. “Fiona said the lechuza…” I trail off and pull out my phone. I quickly dig through the bookmarks I made when I did my research on the Santa Muerte cult and spirit.

  “What?” Paige asks more anxiously. I find what I was looking for and hand my phone to Paige. She grabs my phone and starts reading out loud. “According to Mexican folklore, the lechuza is an old witch—or bruja—who sold her soul to the devil in exchange for magical powers. Among her powers is the ability to shape-shift…” She looks up at me.

  “Keep reading,” I tell her.

  “As a result, she can turn herself into a large bird, especially her namesake. Lechuza is the Spanish word for owl.”

  “The lechuza was there tonight,” I say. “She was the owl.”

  Chapter 12

  ____◊____

  BY THE TIME WE leave Canter’s, the rising sun sits low in the east. Morning commuter traffic has already started to build up as everyone on the west side heads east, and everyone on the east side heads west.

  “When are you going to tell Father Ramon?” Paige asks.

  “I can’t. Not yet.”

  “Why not? Maybe he can help.”

  I shake my head. “Last night, I encountered a witch and an evil spirit of death who tried to murder me. If Father Ramon found out what happened, he would try to stop me from investigating further.”

  “But why? This could be the key. This… spirit, entity, whatever… knows your demon’s name!”

  Father Ramon may be my guide in this search, but he’s also a man who’s developed a healthy fear of evil. I know him, and I know he’d only get in my way. “He’d stop me to protect me.”

  Paige settles into the passenger seat and looks out the window. “What about Fiona?”

  “Maybe.”

  Fiona has already warned me to stay away. She most likely knew Santa Muerte was real. The other question is whether Santa Muerte would have told the lechuza what she knows. If they came to kill me last night, and now they know about Dudley, what might they try next? What could they use against me? Before getting us home, I decide to swing by the library to see how things have settled down. Fifth Street is open again—the LAPD base camp is completely gone. There are still a few black-and-whites parked on the street, along with a long line of news vans. Reporters are stationed at the entrance, providing updated coverage for the morning news.

  My Mini Cooper eases into commuter traffic. It’s only seven in the morning, but gridlock has already set in. When a jackass in a BMW cuts me off in an intersection, I’m thankful I had a dose of Klonopin before leaving Canter’s. I do my best to remain calm and Zen as I maneuver my car through a red light to avoid blocking traffic.

  My attention shifts to my review mirror, and I see a truck behind me speed through the intersection. It’s a Ford Super Duty that cut through the same light I did and is now stuck with its tail in the crosswalk. The vehicle looks familiar, I recall seeing it parked outside Carmen Viramontes’s driveway. A car like that stands out for two reasons. One, nobody in Los Angeles drives a pickup unless it’s for work. Two, a red vehicle stands out among the monochromatic cars in this city—most people here drive black, silver, or white cars. The windows are tinted, but the driver looks like Hugo Escalante—Carmen’s personal errand boy.

  “Paige?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re being followed,” I say. Paige starts to turn around, but I grab her shoulder. “Don’t look
!”

  “Geez! Maybe start with ‘Don’t look’ before telling me what not to look at. Who’s behind us?”

  “Bright-red truck. I think that’s Carmen’s guy.”

  “How long has he been following us?”

  “Not sure.” My attention was so focused on the jackass in the BMW that I didn’t notice who was behind me. My guess is that he was probably parked at the library and followed me as I drove past.

  “Now what?” Paige asks.

  With traffic at a standstill, there isn’t much either of us can do. As the cars slowly begin to move, I decide there’s only one course of action at my disposal. “Hold on,” I tell Paige.

  The next chance I get, I merge into the right-turn lane. On cue, he follows suit. I start heading east, deeper into downtown. Everywhere we turn, there’s construction, adding to the congestion. Then I make an ill-advised left turn across two lanes of traffic and cut into an alley. I floor it, zipping past delivery trucks and dumpsters on this bumpy and dirty road.

  In my rearview mirror, I can see the red pickup cut off several cars and follow us. Paige’s head is turned around, and she’s watching. “Shit,” she says, “he’s still following.”

  “I got it.”

  She turns to face forward again. At the end of the alley is the next major street and another traffic jam. “Darcy!” she yells, her voice panicked. “What are you doing?”

  “Hold on.”

  Paige braces herself as I finally hit the brake and make a sharp right turn. Instead of merging into the street, I pull into the dedicated bicycle lane. Taking advantage of my car’s compact dimensions, I zip along the narrow divide between parked cars and traffic. I nearly clip a few mirrors along the way.

  Paige squeals as I continue to accelerate along the tiny path. With the intersection in reach, I push down on the gas and speed past all the other stuck motorists. I glance in my rearview mirror and see Hugo trying to follow, but he can’t. There’s not enough room for him to merge into traffic.

  So long, sucker. The bike lane is my friend, and I keep traveling as far it will let me.

  Paige is visibly excited. “That was amazing! You were aiming for that bike the lane the whole time?”

  Yeah. Sure. Let’s go with that. I keep driving east and then start to head north.

  “Wait,” Paige says, finally noticing we’re not headed toward home. “Where are you going?”

  “We’re going to visit Carmen Viramontes.”

  * * *

  The traffic is murder heading north, and there aren’t enough bike lanes in the city to make this commute to Pasadena any easier. When Paige and I arrive at the quiet residential street, we see no sign of Hugo’s truck. My guess is we have about twenty minutes before he gets here.

  I don’t usually arrive unannounced on any occasion—some of the lessons my mother taught me did stick. But I need to get some answers if I’m going to find Elizabeth, Santa Muerte, and my demon’s name. And I don’t want to give Carmen and Leona time to prepare like they did last time.

  Paige looks around at the neighborhood, with its extravagant wealth, that sits isolated from the rest of the city. We approach the front gate and the ten-foot-tall hedge that surrounds the property, protecting it from the outside world. I buzz at the gate.

  Leona answers and sounds surprised. “Do you have some news?”

  “Not news. More questions.”

  “One moment.” Minutes go by, and I’m surprised at the time I have to wait.

  “Does it usually take this long?” Paige asks.

  “No.” I shake my head in frustration. “They’re hiding something.”

  With each passing second, I grow more and more concerned. When people ask you to wait, it’s so they can prepare. When people prepare, it’s for a show. When there’s a show, it means someone’s lying.

  Five minutes later, I hear, “Come in.” The iron gates open for us.

  Paige and I walk up the driveway and find the Super Tech delivery van parked out front. Paige takes in the property, from the massive house to the manicured landscape. “Maybe we should get into the electronics business,” she says.

  “Yeah. Let’s get on that.”

  Leona is waiting on the porch, and I can tell she’s surprised to see Paige. “And who is this?” Leona asks with a hint of annoyance.

  “My business partner,” I say, “Paige Whitaker.”

  Paige extends her hand to Leona, but before she can even climb a single step on the porch, Leona whirls around and disappears into the house.

  “I think she likes you,” I tell Paige as we follow Leona inside.

  She guides us into the drawing room—which is too bad. I was hoping for another free meal in the kitchen.

  “Please have a seat. Mrs. Viramontes will be down shortly.” With that, Leona leaves Paige and me alone.

  “What’s the plan?” Paige asks.

  “Plan?” I say, shooting her a sardonic look.

  “Right. Look who I’m talking to.”

  A few minutes later, Leona returns with Carmen. With the amount of time I’ve had to wait, I was expecting to see my hostess dressed up to receive me. Instead, Carmen is wearing only a housecoat. I wonder if I’ve interrupted her bath time.

  Carmen immediately casts a cold stare on Paige. “I didn’t realize you were working with anyone. I was hoping this job would remain private.” No greeting. No questions about finding her daughter. Just concern that someone is working with me.

  “You can trust her.”

  Carmen turns her glare on me. “My daughter has been kidnapped, and any day, I could be arrested and deported. I can’t afford to trust anyone.”

  “Someone tried to kill me last night,” I say with no attempt to ease into the topic. “Don’t lecture me on not being able to trust anyone.”

  Both Carmen’s and Leona’s faces register shock. “What happened?” Leona asks.

  “Did you hear about the murder at the library?” I ask.

  “The story on the news this morning,” Carmen answers.

  “Someone thought that was me. They killed someone else instead.”

  Carmen sits down, stunned.

  “You’re in danger, now,” Leona says. It’s not a question but an observation.

  “She is,” Paige agrees.

  It’s too soon for me to mention Hugo and this morning’s brief chase through downtown. I also know he’s probably on his way here, so I need to get some answers before we get to him.

  “Someone doesn’t want me to find Elizabeth, which means she must still be alive. And,” I add, “it also suggests I’m getting close to finding her.”

  “Did you find something out?” Carmen asks anxiously.

  I exchange a glance with Paige—a look that says, Follow my lead.

  “The boyfriend, Sebastian,” I say to Carmen.

  “Sebastian?” Leona exclaims. She and Carmen exchange a look, and I try to read their expressions. They are both surprised by the news, but I can’t tell if there’s concern there above the recognition.

  “You know him?” I ask.

  Carmen answers, “He worked for our main office for a while. We had to let him go.”

  “Because he was a drug dealer?” I ask bluntly. I do it to elicit a response. Again, Carmen and Leona exchange a look that tells me everything I need to know. They are very aware of his history. I offer a follow-up question. “Was Elizabeth doing drugs?”

  Carmen shakes her head. “Absolutely not.”

  I shrug. “In my experience, when a young girl starts dating someone who deals drugs, it’s usually not in spite of his dealing—it’s because of it.”

  Leona takes over. “Did he kidnap her? Was he involved in her disappearance?” Leona is clearly concerned. I’ve known domestic staff to develop an emotional attachment to the children of their employers. I suspect Leona has more done her fair share to raise Elizabeth.

  I shake my head. “He says h
e wasn’t.”

  Carmen speaks up. “How can you trust what he says, especially if he is, as you say, a drug dealer?” She’s on the attack now—questioning me. Doubting me. The genteel facade she put on in our first meeting is long gone.

  “I never said I believed him.” I do believe Sebastian, but I’m not going to reveal his story about a witch or my experience last night. “But he certainly has information that could lead me to her.”

  Carmen sits back, but Leona leans forward anxiously and asks, “Like what?”

  Time to show a card. “Was Elizabeth involved in Santa Muerte?”

  Carmen’s eyes widen. This is where I was going with the conversation all along. I study her. She is shocked. Is it because she didn’t know or because I found out?

  Leona stands in front of Carmen, protecting her from my line of sight. “How dare you ask her that? Leave!”

  This is clearly a sensitive subject. Judging by Carmen’s expression and Leona’s reaction, I’ve committed a grievous sin in even mentioning Santa Muerte. I’ve offended them. Or someone is hiding something.

  I ignore Leona and keep my attention on Carmen. “Did you know Elizabeth was spending time with an old woman who was involved in the cult? Any idea who this woman is?”

  I’m hoping someone will mention something about a witch, but I doubt it. Carmen looks down, recoiling deeper into her sofa. I can’t tell if this is an expression of guilt or fear. Out of the corner of my eye, I can sense Paige tense up, preparing to move.

  “I said leave,” Leona repeats.

  I turn my attention to her. “No.” I peer around Leona at Carmen. “If you want me to find Elizabeth, you’re going to need to tell me everything. And I mean everything.”