A Trace of Hope

KERI LOCKE MYSTERY SERIES

A TRACE OF DEATH (Book #1)

A TRACE OF MUDER (Book #2)

A TRACE OF VICE (Book #3)

A TRACE OF CRIME (Book #4)

A TRACE OF HOPE (Book #5)

CHAPTER ONE

When Detective Keri Locke opened her eyes, she immediately knew something was off. First of all, she didn’t feel as if she had been asleep for long. Her heart was racing and she felt clammy all over. It was more like she’d passed out than been sleeping for a long time.

Second, she wasn’t in bed. Instead, she was flat on her back on the couch in her apartment living room and Detective Ray Sands, her partner and, as of late, her boyfriend, was leaning over her with a concerned expression on his face.

She tried to speak, to ask him what was wrong, but her mouth was dry and nothing came out but a hoarse crack. She couldn’t remember how she got here or what had happened before she lost consciousness. But it must have been something huge for her to react that way.

She saw in Ray’s eyes that he wasn’t sure what to say. That wasn’t like him. He wasn’t one to beat around the bush. A six-foot-four African-American LAPD cop and former professional boxer who’d lost his left eye in a fight, he was direct in almost everything he did.

Keri tried to push up on her arms to get to a more elevated position but Ray stopped her, gently resting a hand on her shoulder and shaking his head.

“Give yourself a moment,” he said. “You still look a little unsteady.”

“How long was I out?” Keri croaked.

“Not quite a minute,” he answered.

“Why was I out?” she asked.

Ray’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to reply but stopped, clearly at a loss.

“What is it?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked incredulously.

Keri shook her head. She thought she heard a buzzing in her ears but then realized that it was another voice. She glanced over to the coffee table and saw her phone resting there. It was on and someone was speaking.

“Who’s on the phone?” she asked.

“Oh, you dropped it when you collapsed and I put it there until I could revive you.”

“Who is it?” Keri asked again, noting that he had avoided her question.

“It’s Susan,” he said reluctantly. “Susan Granger.”

Susan Granger was a fifteen-year-old prostitute whom Keri had rescued from her pimp last year and gotten placed in a girls’ home. Since then, the two had become close, with Keri acting as a kind of mentor for the damaged but spirited young girl.

“Why is Susan calli – ?”

And then the memory hit her like a wave crashing down on her entire body. Susan had called to tell Keri that her own daughter, Evie, who had been abducted six years ago, was to be the central participant in a grotesque ceremony.

Susan had learned that tomorrow night at a house somewhere in the Hollywood Hills, Evie was going to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, who would be allowed to have his way with her sexually before killing her in some sort of ritualistic sacrifice.

That’s why I passed out.

“Hand me the phone,” she ordered Ray.

“I’m not sure you’re up for this yet,” he said, obviously sensing that she could now remember everything.

“Give me the goddamn phone, Ray.”

He handed it over without another word.

“Susan, are you still there?” she said.

“What happened?” Susan demanded, her voice borderline panicky. “One minute you were there and then nothing. I could hear something happening but you didn’t answer.”

“I passed out,” Keri admitted. “It took me a moment to regroup.”

“Oh,” Susan said quietly. “I’m sorry I did that to you.”

“It’s not your fault, Susan. I was just taken by surprise. It’s a lot to process at once, especially when I’m not feeling a hundred percent.”

“How are you doing?” Susan asked, the concern in her voice almost palpable.

She was referring to Keri’s injuries, sustained in a life-and-death fight with a child abductor only two days ago. She had only been released from the hospital yesterday morning.

The doctors had determined that the bruises on her face, where the abductor had punched her twice, along with a badly bruised chest and swollen knee, weren’t enough to keep her another day.

The abductor, a deranged zealot named Jason Petrossian, had gotten the worst of it. He was still hospitalized under armed guard. The girl he’d kidnapped, twelve-year-old Jessica Rainey, was recovering at home with her family.

“I’ll be okay,” Keri said reassuringly. “Just some bumps and bruises. I’m glad you called, Susan. No matter how bad the news, knowing this is better than not knowing. Now I can try to do something about it.”

“What can you do, Detective Locke?” Susan said, her voice rising as the words tumbled out of her. “Like I said, I know Evie is the Blood Prize at the Vista. But I don’t where it’s happening.”

“Slow down, Susan,” Keri said firmly as she pulled herself to a sitting position. Her head felt a little dizzy and she didn’t protest as Ray put a steadying hand on her back as he sat down beside her on the couch. “We’ll figure out how to find her. But first I need you to tell me everything you know about this whole Vista thing. Don’t worry about repeating yourself. I want every detail you can recall.”

“Are you sure?” Susan asked hesitantly.

“Don’t worry. I’m okay now. I just needed a moment to take all this in. But I’m a Missing Persons detective. This is what I do. Just because I’m looking for my own daughter doesn’t change the job. So tell me everything.”

She pushed the speakerphone button so Ray could listen too.

“Okay,” Susan said. “As I told you before, there’s a club of rich johns who have pop-up sex parties in the Hollywood Hills. They call them Hill House Parties. The house is filled with girls, almost all underage prostitutes like I was. They usually have them every few months and most of the time, they only give a few hours’ notice, usually via text. Am I making sense?”

“Absolutely,” Keri said. “I remember you telling me about this. So remind me about the Vista event.”