Wonderland

  “You stay away from me.” She backed up as far as she could. She was still holding the can of hairspray, and she held it up again.

  “You’re very pretty, you know,” Carlos Jones said. His grin widened. “I don’t even mind the cracks in your face. You look like a dead little girl, and it’s kind of exciting, actually.” His hand went to his crotch, and he began massaging his penis through his coveralls. “Come on, take off that hoodie so I can see your tits. Then I want you to pull down your panties and spread your legs with your dress still on. I want you to lie still. Very still. Pretend like you’re dead.” His breath was coming faster, and his hand was moving in a solid rhythm, his erection clearly visible through the thick cloth. “Oh yeah. Oh yeah, this is turning me on. This is going to be fun.”

  Opening her mouth, Ava screamed louder and longer than she ever had in her life. He reached for her, and she aimed the hairspray can and pressed the nozzle as hard as she could. But nothing happened. The nozzle was clogged and wouldn’t depress.

  Carlos Jones grabbed her by the arm and they wrestled. The screams coming out of Ava were a new sound—on some level she was aware that she was the one screaming, but at the same time, it didn’t sound like her at all. She managed to yank her arm away, but he bumped up against her roughly, pinning her against the full-length mirror. She dropped the can of hairspray and it clattered onto the concrete floor.

  “Why are you wriggling so much, baby girl?” His hot breath was in her ear. “You’re supposed to be playing dead, remember?”

  “No.” It was all she could think to say. “No.”

  “Shhhh.” The length of his body was pressed against her, and she couldn’t move. He wasn’t tall, but he was thick and muscular, and his body felt like a rock. He had both her wrists in one hand, and they were pinned above her head. “It’s better if you relax. It hurts more if you fight it. If you ask me nice, I’ll be gentle. This is your first time, isn’t it? Or do you let your boyfriend touch you wherever he wants, you dirty little girl?”

  Ava had never felt so small or so helpless. She continued to writhe, but the more she did, the more he seemed to like it. His erection was right in the middle of her stomach, hard and terrible. “No,” she said in a smaller voice. “No.”

  “Shhhh now.” He ran a long, wet tongue up the side of her neck to her earlobe, and then she felt it exploring the inside of her ear. “Just relax. It’ll feel so good if you relax.”

  She screamed again, right into his ear, as loud as she could.

  “Argh!” He pulled back, clapping one hand over the side of his head. “You fucking bitch!”

  She tried to move past him, but he slammed her against the mirror, and it cracked against the back of her head. The world spun out, her vision narrowing into a small hole, and then her legs went out from under her. She slumped forward, the mirror crashing down around her. The wood frame came loose from the screws and it dropped to the floor behind her with a thud. She sat on the floor, dazed.

  Carlos Jones was rubbing his ear. “You stupid little slut. Now you’ve made me angry. You like it rough, little girl? I can be rough. Oh, I can be very rough.”

  She blindly grabbed for a shard of glass, her fingers closing around a jagged edge. It cut her thumb, but she barely felt it. “Don’t come near me,” she gasped, holding the shard out. “I’ll cut you, I swear I’ll cut you.” She made a wild slashing motion.

  He looked down at her in contempt. “You’d cut your hand even worse than you’d cut me,” he said, but he stayed back.

  He was probably right about that, but it was a chance she might just take. The hairspray can was in reach and she grabbed it again with her other hand, getting to her feet again. “You get out of my way. You get out of my way right now.”

  A breeze hit her from behind, and she almost didn’t notice it, except it was very, very cold. It ruffled the bottom of her doll dress, and she chanced a quick look around. There was a door behind her. What the hell? The mirror had been covering a door this whole time? From the cold draft that was coming out of it—which explained why the dressing room was always so chilly—there had to be something behind it.

  A way out of this nightmare, maybe.

  “Put down the glass, little girl.” Carlos Jones stepped toward her. “You don’t want to cut me. I know you don’t. You’re already bleeding. Let me help you.”

  He was right. She didn’t want to cut him if she didn’t have to. She lifted the hairspray again and pressed hard. Finally, it dispensed, and a stream of thick, strongly perfumed mist hit Carlos Jones right in the eyes.

  “Argh! You fucking bitch!” His eyes squeezed shut and he rubbed at them frantically.

  He lunged for her, but missed, because she had flung open the door and was tumbling down a flight of stairs into darkness.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Vanessa could have kept Oscar in county lockup for the night along with Glenn Hovey if she’d wanted to, but frankly, she was likely to learn more about him by letting him go. She wanted to know if there was anything else Oscar wasn’t telling her, so for now, he was being charged with accessory to murder after the fact. The district attorney, currently attending the gala for Seaside Hospital along with everybody else in town, would draft his immunity agreement in the morning. In the meantime, Oscar’s bail had been set at $250,000, which he’d been able to post quickly thanks to Jane Cartwright’s cousin being a bail bondsman. He was free to go. On his way out, he touched her arm.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I know,” she said.

  When they were gone, Vanessa tasked officers Nate Essex and Pete Warwick with watching him at all times. She wanted to know every move Wonderland’s VP of operations made; where he went, who he talked to, how his moods seemed.

  “You’re on him like white on rice, you understand?” she said to the young officers. “He might know something about Aiden Cole and the rest of the missing Wonder Workers. Who knows what else Bianca Bishop might have asked him to do. Never let him out of your sight.”

  “Got it, Deputy Chief.”

  Wonderland’s CEO, on the other hand, was a different story. She and Glenn Hovey were the prime suspects for the murder of Aiden Cole, and the possible murders of Blake Dozier, Kyle Grimmie, and Tyler Wilkins. And of course, Nick Bishop. She screamed bloody murder as Vanessa escorted her down to the jail, twisting and writhing in her handcuffs, long red hair tangled and flying.

  “You cannot do this! Do you know who I am? I want my lawyer!”

  “You called her and she didn’t call back,” Vanessa said patiently. “I assume she’s at the gala with the rest of Seaside’s power elite. But I’d be more than happy to wake up a public defender, if you want. You know, someone who’s fresh out of law school and who wasn’t smart enough to get a job in a private firm, someone who won’t know how to argue for bail, or will get you stuck with a million-dollar bail or more. You’re being arrested for two murders, after all.”

  “I have an alibi!” Bianca screamed. Spittle hit Vanessa in the face, and she made a show of wiping it off. “I told you I was with Oscar Trejo all night! He’ll tell you. Did you even ask him?”

  “I didn’t have to,” Vanessa said. “Because he was with me all that night.”

  The look on Bianca Bishop’s face was priceless—Instagram-worthy, as Ava would have said.

  “Sure you don’t want a public defender?” Vanessa asked again. “Or can you hang out here all night till your lawyer calls you back?”

  “Go to hell, you whore,” Bianca spat. “You probably fucked Frank Greenberg to get this job, didn’t you?”

  “Even if I did, it’s still better than you murdering your uncle to get his job. Let’s not throw stones, shall we?” Vanessa paused. “And for the record, I’ve never slept with Frank. He’s a good man. Not that it matters to you.”

  With Bianca squared away, Vanessa called Earl Sch
ultz, who picked up on the fourth ring sounding drunk and giddy. It only took about thirty seconds for his buzz to fade once Vanessa filled him in on what was going on.

  “Christ, Castro,” Earl said in her ear. “Are you sure? Bianca Bishop killed Nick Bishop?”

  “Oscar moved the body to the tunnel,” she said. “It’s after midnight now, so I was going to put together a search party first thing tomorrow morning. We’re running a skeleton crew here.”

  “I suppose if Nick’s been in the tunnel all this time, he’s not going anywhere, so a few more hours won’t matter,” Earl said. “Christ, I was wondering why Bianca and Oscar didn’t show up tonight. Why didn’t you call me before?”

  “You know why.”

  There was a slight pause. “I guess there’s something to be said for objectivity. I’ll meet you at the park at 6 a.m. We’ll keep the search team small; you know how rumors work in this town. You, me, Donnie, and another two officers max, whoever’s around and discreet. Who’s watching Oscar?”

  “Essex and Warwick.”

  “Good.” Big sigh. “Nice job, Castro. Get the search warrant prepared as quickly as you can. We need to do everything by the book here.”

  Vanessa sat in her office, exhausted, but there was still work to be done. She began putting together the warrant, and then it occurred to her that Ava still hadn’t texted or called to let her know she’d arrived at Katya’s. Looking at the time, she chanced it and called Jerry. He answered on the first ring.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “Nah, I’m watching TV. Just got home from the pub a little while ago. Had a couple beers with Tanner. His daughter’s abusive boyfriend got off with community service and probation. But don’t worry, he doesn’t blame you. Now I’m watching The Bone Collector, Denzel Washington and Angelina Jolie. If someone ever makes a movie about my life, I want Denzel to play me.”

  “Of course you do, but let’s talk about your Hollywood fantasies tomorrow,” Vanessa said. “I need a favor. Can you drive by Ava’s friend Katya’s house? She was supposed to text me once she got to Katya’s, but I haven’t heard from her, and my messages aren’t going through properly. Katya’s parents don’t have a house line, just cell phones, and I don’t want to wake them if I don’t have to. I’m stuck here working on a search warrant we need for the crack of dawn, which is a challenge because I think the night court judge went home.”

  “I’m sure Ava just fell asleep and her phone’s dead,” Jerry said. “But sure, I can drive by. What’s the address?”

  She gave it to him. “Thanks, Jerry.”

  “Investigation panning out?”

  “Another dead body at the amusement park,” she said. “Wholesome family fun at its finest. I’ll fill you in after you tell me Ava’s sleeping and I’m free to kill her when she wakes up.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jerry called back.

  “Katya’s there, but I didn’t see Miss Ava,” Jerry said. “I peeked in Katya’s bedroom and I can clearly see her sleeping. Kinda felt like a pervert looking through the window; thank god nobody saw me or I probably would have been shot. I checked the other bedroom, but it’s just her parents in there. What do you want me to do?”

  “Shit.” Vanessa’s heart sank. She looked at the clock on her wall, then back down at the warrant. Fuck it, everything else would have to wait. “Something tells me they might not answer the door if they see a tall, skinny black man standing on their porch at 1 a.m. If anyone’s going to scare the Melniks, it should be me. I’ll be right there. Wait for me.”

  “What about your warrant?”

  “I still got time. It can wait.”

  Vanessa arrived at Katya’s house about ten minutes later. Jerry was sitting in his car, and he got out when she pulled up.

  She knocked on the door, quietly at first, and then louder when nobody answered. Finally, with no other option short of banging on a bedroom window, she rang the doorbell. A few seconds later all the lights in the small house went on.

  Peter and Karolina Melnik looked alarmed when they opened the door, dressed in pajamas and a nightgown, respectively. When Vanessa explained, they called for Katya immediately. The young girl came to the door, rubbing her eyes.

  “She was supposed to sleep over tonight.” Katya stretched her arms out over her head and yawned. She was wearing sweatpants that had been cut into shorts and an old Seahawks T-shirt that had probably belonged to her dad.

  “That’s news to me.” Karolina Melnik frowned at her daughter before looking back at Vanessa. “I didn’t know that. They didn’t tell me.”

  “What was the plan?” Vanessa asked the girl.

  “There wasn’t really one,” Katya said. “She asked if she could crash here tonight, and I said sure. She said it wouldn’t be till late, like around midnight or even later, and I told her I’d leave my window open so she could climb in.”

  “That’s not safe!” Karolina Melnik was horrified. “Your window is supposed to stay closed at night, that’s why we got air-conditioning.” A string of words in Russian followed.

  “Have you done that before?” her father asked.

  Katya shrugged, which in teenage speak meant, Hell yeah, all the time.

  Vanessa forced herself to stay calm. Sensing her distress, Jerry squeezed her arm. “Katya, where did Ava say she’d be between 10 p.m. and midnight?”

  The girl’s eyes darted between Vanessa’s face and her parents’ faces, and then to Jerry’s, who was the only adult who didn’t appear upset. He simply smiled at her. “She had plans to meet a friend at the beach.”

  “What friend?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Katya.” Her mother’s voice was one note shy of a shriek. “You tell the deputy chief what she wants to know right now, so she can find her daughter and we can all go back to sleep. Right now, Katya.” Another long string of Russian words. It didn’t take a translator to understand that the woman wasn’t happy.

  “His name is Xander Cameron,” Katya finally said, shuffling her feet. “There was a bonfire party at the beach, and she really wanted to go. He’s eighteen, which is probably why she didn’t tell you about it.”

  “Eighteen!” Vanessa said, but again Jerry put a hand on her arm.

  “He works with us at the park and they did their orientation together.”

  “Are they . . . are they involved?”

  “No, they’re just friends,” Katya said, and Vanessa breathed a small sigh of relief. “She just has a thing for him, is all. But he was involved with someone else, and they got into this big fight and . . .” She lowered her voice. “Xander was having a thing with the Dragon Lady. Ava told me about it the other night.”

  “Xander and the Dragon Lady? As in Bianca Bishop?” Vanessa exchanged a look with Jerry.

  Katya nodded, clearly eager to tell what she knew. Teenagers often made more helpful witnesses than adults. “He told Ava, and then she told me, but not until a few days after he told her. I was kinda mad she didn’t tell me, like, immediately, but I get that she was all butt-hurt about it and that she needed some time to get over it before she could talk about it.”

  “Don’t say ‘butt-hurt,’ Katya,” her mother said. A permanent frown seemed to be etched into her face. “That’s distasteful.”

  Katya sighed.

  “So where is she?” Vanessa asked.

  “She’s probably still with Xander,” Katya said. “But the bonfire only goes till midnight, and then beach patrol shuts it down. So they’re either hiding somewhere at the beach, or they’re back at his dorm, or they’re heading here.”

  Her father said something in rapid Russian, and then her mother said something, too. Sighing, Katya said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Castro. I shouldn’t have agreed to help her lie to you, but she’s my friend, you know?”

  “Well, I appreciate your honesty now,” Vanessa sai
d. “Can you keep your phone on tonight in case I have questions? I’m going to go look for her.”

  “Okay,” Katya said. “But Mrs. Castro, I really don’t think you have anything to worry about. Ava’s a good girl, and Xander—aside from his questionable taste in older women—is a pretty nice guy.”

  It wasn’t Xander that Vanessa was worried about at the moment. She actually hoped her daughter was with him, and that she was safe.

  Because if Ava wasn’t, then where the hell was she?

  THIRTY-NINE

  Under the Clown Museum

  Ava’s head was pounding and she suspected her left shoulder was sprained, but her legs were working fine and so she kept moving. Carlos Jones was somewhere behind her. Whenever she turned around, she could see the little beam from his flashlight and was relieved he didn’t have something like what her mother kept in the car—Vanessa Castro’s Maglite was both a high beam and a weapon. Carlos Jones, lowly janitor and rapist at Wonderland amusement park, seemed only to have a flashlight the size of a pen, and thank god for that. In this instance, size mattered.

  Her goal was to outrun the beam, which she wasn’t sure she could do, considering she had no idea where she was going. She’d heard vague things about there being a tunnel or a dungeon underneath Wonderland, but she’d always assumed it was one of those urban legends, like Candyman.

  Her iPhone, still in the pocket of her doll dress, had a flashlight app on it. But now her phone was dead, along with Ava’s hopes of seeing anything in front of her. All she could do was keep one hand on the concrete wall and jog blindly. Every so often the wall ended and she was forced to go left or right, and logic dictated she would follow the draft of air. If there was air, there had to be a way out.

  Carlos Jones’s beam disappeared, and Ava stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Her hand remained on the wall, until she felt something crawl over it. Yanking her hand away, she shook it furiously, wanting desperately to scream, and knowing she couldn’t. She forced herself to keep moving.