FOLLOW THE LEADER - Chapter 61

 

Chapter 61


Terry looked up from his map.

“It’s just ahead,” he said.

I slowed down and looked to my left. It was a spot that the feds had marked on an aerial map: One section of a dirt road that ran parallel to Highway 101, where Rhonda “Country” Stone had jumped ship and fled into a nearby orchard.

A yellow Merge sign stood just north of the spot.

I passed the sign and continued to Petaluma, then took the off-ramp to Petaluma Boulevard. Terry had learned that there was a homeless encampment beneath the sheltering 101 overpass. Apparently the city cops raided it periodically. A thankless task; once the cops had cleared the area, the tents would reappear the following week.

My spirits fell as I parked near the encampment. Only three tents were up.

“I’ll bet they just got raided,” I said.

One of the tents harbored a “chop shop.” Bicycle wheels, chains and other parts, mostly stolen, were bought and bartered for cash or drugs.

A guy in a “man bun” was assembling a dirt bike for the black market.

“Give us a friggin’ break,” he said. “You guys just hit us day before yesterday.”

“We’re not cops,” I said and handed him my business card.

“You sure as hell look like a plainclothes.”

“I get that a lot.” 

“You got no reason to hassle us. We ain’t hurtin’ anybody.”

I signaled Terry to produce our pictures. He nodded, then held up the first picture, an artist’s sketch. A likeness of Jason Powers, or so we hoped.

“Ever seen this guy?” Terry asked.

“How much is it worth to you?” asked the homeless guy.

Terry turned to me.

I fished out a ten and gave it to the guy.

“Never seen him. Next one.”

Terry showed him the sketch of Emily.

“That’s Sheena,” he said. “Queen of the Jungle.”

“Where’d she get that title?” Terry asked.

“Comic book,” said the homeless guy.

“Before your time,” I said.

Terry showed him the next picture, a blown-up photo of Katherine Rollins.

The homeless guy laughed. “Hell no,” he said. “What would a girl like her be doin’ with the likes of them losers?”

“We think Jason, the guy in the picture, recruited her.”

“Before he killed her,” Terry added.

“Had her killed,” I said.

“Same thing.”

“No it’s not.”

The homeless guy shook his head again. 

“Sheena, I see her around. She hangs out with an ugly little runt. Sometimes with a pretty Mexican girl. Sheena and the runt shaved their heads.”

“What about the Mexican girl?”

“No.”

Just like Katherine Rollins. She had been allowed to keep her hair. Why?

I got out a twenty.

He reached out for it eagerly.

I snapped it back.

“What you wanna know?”

“The three girls you see around. When did you last see them? And where?”

“Can’t say when exactly. They come in to shop at Whole Foods. Always in a muddy Rover.”

Rollins was right. They don’t use the panel truck to shop.

“Same day each week?”

He thought for a few seconds.

“Wednesday! Always on a Wednesday morning.” 

I thought he might be lying.

“That’s tomorrow,” said Terry.

“It is indeed,” I said.

I gave the homeless guy the twenty and we left.

“Hey, Pansy!” he called.

We turned around and saw a greasy- haired woman poke her head out of he tent. Her lined face was deep pink from sun exposure. Her man was waving a bill back and forth.

“How much?” she croaked.