Chapter 17

Monday, November 3, 1997 – Los Angeles, Parker Center

On Monday morning, Enos and Thompson walked into the office at 6:45 am to a full bullpen. Inez's first words to Thompson involved getting as many of his medium or low-level files as he felt comfortable with redistributed to Angela Kim. And any higher-level cases in need of follow up over the next week needed to go to Espinosa, Morales, or Radakovich. He would be the lead detective working on Kate's case - at least until they couldn't afford to dedicate his time to it anymore.

The first order of business for Enos was to call his provider and obtain his landline phone records.

"The subpoena for Kate's landline and mobile phone records has already been prepared and gone to the judge," Inez had said. "That information should be available by early afternoon."

Accessing preliminaries on both his assault and the investigation into Kate's disappearance, Enos read the initial statements Soonie and Daisy had given again. As much as the weird conundrum of Daisy not only being in L.A., her staying with Soonie was weighing on him. It was a distraction from what he needed to be doing to find Kate.

The detective reports Thompson and Inez had submitted or updated put the possible connection into an organized perspective. He was frustrated the thirty or so pages of notes he'd made in the hospital could neither dispute nor fill gaps in the facts. He had, however, been able to list more possible reasons why Kate would have been assaulted in her apartment before he was attacked at the convenience store.

The ME's report came in around nine. Maria had not wanted to rush it. Considering the implications, she could not afford to be preliminary – she had to be sure. The Cedars staff had done an excellent job of sample gathering for forensics.

When she described to Inez the object she thought was used, Maria Flores was 98% positive she was correct.

"So...Something like a two by four?" Inez asked, making the same connection with the Radmila Kozlova murder that Maria had.

"No," Maria told her, "Exactly like a two by four. Patterning, chemical residue, particulates confirmed it. I can even tell you it was treated, how long ago, and the exact mix of chemicals used."

"We need to go back to the Griffith Park victim."

"I've already ordered the samples and photos from evidence for comparison."

That's when Enos decided Daisy had to go home. Now. He made a phone call to Soonie.

After ending the call, Enos turned his attention back to the copious notes on the legal pad, paying particular attention to Turk's under-linings and strikethroughs. He knew Thompson was in the process of checking on the BOLOs for both Kate and Squiggy, and from what he gleaned from Thompson's end of the phone conversation, they had nothing yet.

He put himself to work going over the inventory of Kate's apartment, looking for anything that might scream diary, journal, or notebook. The department geeks had already ruled out anything obvious on her computer, including emails. Enos planned on reviewing those on the off chance he might find some subtext or hidden meaning in them. Violating her privacy was the last thing he wanted to do, but it was too late for any such consideration, and he was getting desperate. They were well over the first forty-eight hours. The chances of finding Kate alive were petering out with every minute. Though the FBI had been notified and she was on their radar, they would not become directly involved unless she was transported by interstate or foreign commerce. Many facts didn't add up to a big picture, the only common thread being a 'two by four' and that fact didn't apply to anything found at Kate's apartment.

When he knew Thompson was between phone calls, Enos handed him a notepad on which he had written what he had extracted from his notes. Then he took four more pills for his headache.

Can't be random coincidence. Why coordinated assaults?

Kate was the primary target? Then why attack me?

Was I the target? Close association? Was she collateral damage?

Reminder to search recent cases: Al-Fasi stabbing (no love lost between me and male relatives) [crossed out] / Extortion op bust (warn Deacon?) [ crossed out] / Raid Oct 29 with SWAT – reminder: need to re-interview victims and man in closet (any identity yet?) / anything squirelly about those video store robberies?

Recent coordination of services with Kate/NGO i.e. raid on trafficking operation dormitory Oct 29?

Kate's made some enemies with her campaign against human traffickers? But not the only one outspoken on subject. CAST and new bill to congress? Note to self: Reminder to call Congressman Davenport about his support for bill when it comes before the House.

Working theory of team: may be organized crime involved in my assault related to trafficking raid? But Kate's? Seems more personal..

Has Kate been doing something she hasn't told me about?

Thompson started arranging interviews for in the morning with the man in the closet, still unidentified, and at least two of the trafficked teens rescued in the raid last Wednesday. Enos called for the interpreter.

Monday, November 3, 1997 – Los Angeles, Soonie's apartment

Daisy sat up unsteadily in bed, rubbing her eyes, and with a pounding headache. Though Kay had cut her off after the third shot, the soju had sneaked up on her. It had also helped to dull the blow that Enos needed therapy after what she'd done to him and sought it in the form of a former prostitute. She managed to get out of bed and thought she heard a phone ring, though it sounded like Kay's mobile phone and not the landline. By then, she just wanted a shower.

When she made an appearance in the kitchen around ten, Kay had a cup of black coffee, a bottle of acetaminophen, and the morning edition ready for her.

Daisy thought, 'How did this woman manage to look so good after three shots of that 'shine? Must be used to it.'

"They have not put it all together yet, but they will, and likely by Wednesday at the latest," Kay said. "I do not think The Times will sensationalize it or twist it. The article mentions her work to raise public awareness of child exploitation and trafficking. They may still make some connections. Sometimes all it takes for people to jump to conclusions. The gossip magazines look for lurid filler. If they do not find it, they invent it and will not care that Kate turned her life completely around. Or that Enos sees more in people than they can see in themselves."

Daisy had some recent up-close and personal experience with conclusion-leaping. In the last two and a half days, she'd received a crash course in Enos Strate 401 and today was the test, in more ways than one. Should she be concerned she was starting to get used to it?

"He only sees what's on the inside," Daisy mused, with a faraway look.

"Daisy?"

"Yeah," Daisy said, returning to the article about Enos, whose name had not been released. Fortunately, Proposition 209 took center stage on the front page, and the story of Kate's abduction was pushed below the fold. Of course, it was all 'alleged,' with no mention of any connection to the assault on a police officer, which held only a few paragraphs on the inside page.

"Do the people in Hazzard," Kay hesitated slightly, "read the Times or any of the gossip magazines?"

'That was a good question,' Daisy thought and then straightened despite the condition of her twice-the-size-of-normal head. "Rosco!"

Monday, November 3, 1997 – Burbank

Daisy sat on the front seat of Thompson's Crown Vic sporting a protective vest. He had picked her up at Kay's more than an hour and a half before sundown, handing the vest to her when she got into the car, saying, "I need you to put this on."

When they veered off the direct route to Los Angeles International Airport and headed north, she asked if they had to take a round-about way because they were still concerned about her safety. As if the bullet-proof vest wasn't enough.

"I'll let Strate answer that question. I only know he wanted to talk to you before you left and didn't want to do it in the city. We're all a little paranoid right now."

What Enos had actually said was 'he was still skittish.' As far as Thompson was concerned, it was the same thing, and he agreed there was a clear and present need to err on the side of caution. "We're bound for the base of the Verdugos, slightly northeast of Burbank."

"Won't I be late for my flight?"

She wanted to talk to Enos but he'd made it plain how adamant he was that she go.

"You're not flying out of LAX. You're on a non-stop to Atlanta from the Burbank airport. You have time."

When the car pulled up to a cattle gate, Thompson got out to open the padlock on the chain securing it. She could see he was talking to someone on the hand-held radio and assumed it was Enos. She'd seen police issued radios. The device Thompson was using wasn't one. The gate creaked open, something that could be heard for half a mile and certainly at the small cabin three hundred yards away at the end of the dirt drive. Getting back in the car, Thompson stopped it on the other side and closed the gate, resetting the chain's padlock.

As they approached the house, Daisy looked around at the landscape with its random stubble of scrub grass everywhere and an abundance of sandy loam. Although hilly, the terrain offered no obstacle for anyone with a rifle. It seemed utterly exposed.

"Why would he pick this place? Looks like we would be easy targets out here," she said.

"Already reconnoitered. Nowhere anyone could secrete themselves close by that he, or I, won't be aware of and anywhere else is too long-range for even the best sniper." In answer to the expression on her face, he added, "You can take the man out of SWAT Ms. Duke, but the training stays with them."

Daisy looked at the cabin and then turned back to Thompson.

"You'll find him inside," he said, pointing at the open door.

Ascending three of the five steps, she could see him now, leaning on the door jam. Silhouetted against the mountain range off the back porch, he seemed so far away.

The sky was slightly overcast with dark clouds hovering atop the Verdugo fault line, portent of a storm brewing. She looked around her. The landscape looked similar to the Blue Ridge area from the cabin's front steps if you added more trees, more humidity, red clay, and a lot more trees. Even so, the view was impressive, with Burbank and the San Fernando Valley stretched out below and the higher, snow-covered mountain ridge in the distance.

Enos turned when he knew she was on the front porch and was in front of her before she reached the door. As if nothing had happened between them, not April, not the last thirty years, she threw her arms around his neck, and he pulled her into the closest hug he had ever given her.

"I missed you," she said, still hugging him tight, afraid to let go.

"I missed you too, Daisy. But we don't have much time. You have a plane to catch, and we need to talk."

"I know," she said, letting him go.

He was the in-charge Enos again. Gone were the days when she could wrap him around her little finger with a flirty smile and a sweet-voiced 'sugar.' She had decided she liked this Enos better. He was real, more real than the sixteen-year-old version she had tried to hang onto so many years ago.

Thompson watched the exchange from his car, then shook his head. Strate had an awesome woman in Kay. Yet, he was out here, in the middle of nowhere, with his arms wrapped around his ex, who Thompson had only recently learned had left Strate at the freaking altar! One of these days, he might figure the man out but didn't give it a chance in hell of being anytime soon. Unsnapping the tab securing his service weapon in its holster, he turned back to watching the road and the hill behind the cabin.

Enos had not made any attempt to close the doors, front or back, though the cross breeze brought a few bits of loose earth in with it. He took her hand and led her to a bench facing a large, multi-paned window with the same view of the mountains as the back door and laid his gun on the table. Whether he was trying to scare her or drive home the importance of being cautious, it worked on both counts.

"I was afraid you wouldn't want to come," Enos admitted. He relaxed a little and turned to her. The overcast sky had limited the light in the otherwise unlit cabin, and it cast random dark shadows on his face.

"Your buddy, Thompson, didn't give me much choice. But nothing would have stopped me, Enos. You should know that."

"Not sure what I know anymore, Daisy."

He looked at her with a sadness she had not seen in those penetrating hazel eyes since his father died. 'Or was it the last time?' she thought, suddenly struck with a visual of a moment a few weeks after returning to Hazzard in '81, when he thought no one was watching.

"You comin' out here…Not callin' first or tellin' anybody what you were doin'."

"I think I surprised myself."

"So, why did you come to LA?"

At least this time, he'd asked. This was the conversation they should have had on Friday night. She had certainly thought about it more than a few hundred times over the last three days.

"Like you're tryin' to do, I guess," she sighed. "Fill in the blanks." Surveying the deep purple half-moons still under both eyes and the splint on his nose, her instinct was to reach out and touch him. For the first time in her living memory, she didn't know if she should.

"I guess you got most of them filled in by now." He turned back to the view of the mountains and rested his arms over the table.

"Some of them," she said, watching him play with the stem he had pulled from the vase of desiccated roses on the table, his hand not straying far from the gun. "Others? I guess they don't matter anymore."

Picking dried petals from the rose, he exposed undried petals of blood-red within. The flowers in the vase were recent. She looked around the interior of what she had assumed, from the outside, was a seldom-used cabin. Inside, there was only a week's worth of dust on the windowsills.

Though Thompson had given her a reason, she found herself asking, "Why did you bring me way out here?"

"It's isolated, but not far from Burbank airport. Hardly anybody knows about it."

She noticed the overstuffed chair and couch were new and placed in front of a fireplace with wood recently burned. Her gaze honed-in on the far corner. Next to the fireplace sat a mahogany wood chair and music stand, similar to the one in Kay's apartment.

"This is your cabin, isn't it?"

Still fixated on the rose, he nodded his head slowly and returned the stem back to the vase. "Not yet. It will be. Eventually."

Without moving his right hand from next to the gun, he turned and flashed her a quick smile. "I thought it was time I put down some roots."

Daisy heard, 'now thatI have a reason.'

She thought of the years it had taken Enos to pay off the mortgage on the Strate farm where Uncle Frank and Aunt Judy had been living for the last thirty-three years. He had said more than once he would never take on another. We should never say never.

His smile had disappeared, and she knew from what Kay had told her, Kate Broussard was not far from Enos's thoughts.

"You're not responsible. For Kate. You know that, don't you?"

"My brain knows it, Daisy, but my conscience is somethin' different." He took a deep breath and straightened. "I didn't bring you out here to talk about Kate. We don't have much time, and I wanna talk about you and me."

"From what I've seen, there isn't any 'you and me.' Not anymore. Maybe there never was," she said, looking away so he wouldn't see the tears welling in her eyes.

"Don't say that, Daisy. Please don't say that."

"Uncle Jesse said we were only kids, but…" She swallowed the lump in her throat and sniffled, "You left me behind...and it changed everything."

"I know. And I'm so sorry. Uncle Jesse was right," he hesitated and closed his eyes for only a second. "You didn't love me that way, Daisy. Not the adult kind of love. Took me an awful long time to admit the truth to myself. But it is true. You know it is."

She looked at him now, not trying to hide her watery eyes. "The way you love her?"

"Yes."

He'd said it without a moment's hesitation. Not as hard as he had imagined. In fact, it was kind of liberating.

"No doubts?" she asked.

"Not a single one."

"Enos, I'm so sorry I hurt you." The tears started coming again, harder this time, and she leaned her face into his shoulder.

"That's not the reason...And if anybody's to blame...I guess we both gotta take some of it."

"What I did..."

He pulled her away from his shoulder, cupped her head with his hands, and wiped her face with his thumb.

"Daisy. Listen to me. I've thought a lot about it over the last couple of months. You were smarter than me is all. Stronger. You knew it wasn't right for either of us. We were both hangin' on to memories of how things were between us – before I left. Maybe, if I hadn't left for Atlanta when we were sixteen...back when we were kids..."

"I've thought about it too," she sighed, wiping another tear from her cheek. "...If you hadn't gone to the Academy, I might have gotten what I wanted. Or, maybe what I thought I wanted…you might not have become the man you are now...I'd have clipped your wings."

"If I'd gotten what I thought I wanted, I think I woulda' done the same to you," he said, with that sad, knowing smile of his.

"Maybe if you had mailed the letters...I think that's what made me get on a plane Friday morning. I needed to know why."

"I wish I had an answer for you, Daisy. I don't know why I didn't mail them. At least nothin' that makes sense."

"I think I know, now. And deep down, so do you. I think maybe you knew all along too. The way she looks when she talks about you...you deserve someone who loves you...like that."

He let go of her. "I started another letter to you a couple of months ago, but I couldn't get past the first line. I guess it was 'cause I was actually gonna mail it this time. Funny how it was so easy before - when I had no intention of mailin' um."

Through the tears, she laughed for the first time in a week. "All 476 of them?"

"Maybe things woulda' been different..." He squeezed her hand. "…different doesn't mean it woulda' been good for either of us."

Daisy wanted to tell him he was wrong. But he wasn't. And, for some insane reason, she thought of the apple peel landing at his feet in the form of an 'S.'

"So, what now? You and Kay gonna get married?"

He got a strange sense of the surreal talking to Daisy about Soonie, like Earth's poles had somehow reversed. There were things he could tell her and things that were private between him and Soonie.

"It's kind of complicated for both of us right now."

They fell into momentary silence, with his thoughts wandering to some distant place, until Daisy asked, "Enos? Are you ever comin' home again?"

Before he could answer or say that he would always have one foot in Hazzard and the other wherever Soonie was, there was a creak on the front porch. Enos's hand reached immediately for the semi-automatic on the table.

"Daisy, hunker down behind the chair," he said, while he raised his weapon, left palm cupped under his right hand, pointing it in the direction of the creak. Then he heard a series of taps on the door jam and relaxed.

Thompson came into the room, holding the radio up, and said, "Kim says she's got something we need to see."

Angela Kim pulled up to the back door in her own vehicle and pulled a small figure with slicked back greasy hair out of the back seat. He was handcuffed and bent over.

"I believe," she said to Enos, "you're acquainted with Mr. Underwood?"

While Enos retrieved Daisy from behind the chair, Angie deposited the man unceremoniously onto the bench on which Enos and Daisy had just been sitting.

"I caught the little slime trying to sneak in through the back entrance. Wasn't too good at it. Kind of stupid, actually."

Thompson said, his gun raised and pointed at Mr. Underwood, "Put your hands on the table where we can see them."

The man complied but protested, "She didn't Mirandize me. Hauled me in here when I was mindin' my own business. Enos, you gonna let her get away with that?"

"You wanna' be Mirandized, Squiggy?" Enos asked. "'Cause we can do it right here, right now, all official-like."

"No, that'd mean you're gonna take me in. I don't wanna go in."

Enos motioned for Daisy to sit in the chair and sat on the bench across from the little man.

"We got a lot a pallaberin' to do, Squiggy, so you better settle in." He was laying on the Blue Ridge as thickly as he could.

Angie tapped her watch at Enos, reminding him of the time. He stood again and looked down at a contrite Squiggy.

"Think real hard before I get back, Squig. Or I'll just leave you with Detective Thompson over here. And just so ya' know, he didn't git that cast on his arm from playin' tennis."

Enos took Daisy's hand and led her out the back door, while she strained her neck to watch Squiggy, who looked both terrified and defiant at the same time and Thompson, in his three-piece Italian suit, his gun pointed at the little man's center mass.

"Enos. Turk showed us photos. That's the guy who Kay said came up to you at your apartment. What are you gonna' do with him?"

"Daisy, listen to me." Enos kept having to pull her gaze away from the scene in the cabin. "It doesn't matter right now who he is. You have to catch a plane. Angie's gonna' escort you to the Atlanta Airport…Daisy, listen to me…She'll fill you in on the way. Rosco's gonna pick you up. Angie, you got her bag?"

"In the car."

"Enos, I can't go like this. There's too much we need to talk about, things I want to say."

"Gonna' have to wait. Please. If you ever loved me at all, please do this for me."

Daisy threw her arms around him again and closed her eyes. "Are you still gonna' come to Hazzard for Thanksgiving?"

"We'll see."

He un-threaded her arms from his neck and put her in the car. Pulling an envelope from around his shirt pocket, he handed it to Angie through the driver's side window before she headed toward the Burbank airport.

He had not actually remembered the conversation he had with her at LAX when he tried to put her on a plane home the first time. No matter, Turk had related enough. He knew what she meant about Hazzard for Thanksgiving. Now he had that burden to bear as well.

Tuesday, November 3, 1997 – Burbank

Enos headed back into the cabin to find Thompson holding his gun trained at Warren Underwood's chest.

"Relax," he told him, "Mr. Underwood's not goin' anywhere, are ya Squiggy?"

"Course not." Squiggy said, looking back at Thompson. "I came here to warn you. Again." Cautiously turning his attention to Enos, he said, "You wanna get the suit outta my face and tell him I'm one of the good guys?"

Enos motioned for Thompson to lower his weapon. Squiggy was squirrely enough without having a gun pointed at him. Thompson lowered the gun, but instead of holstering it, he pulled up a chair and kept it at a ready position.

"You're not gonna take me in, are you? Cause I can't go in...just can't...they'll know it was me. Took a chance comin' here as it is."

"There's a BOLO out on you," Thompson said, "Whoever they are, probably already knows. So who are they, and why were you at Strate's apartment Friday night?"

He ignored Thompson and concentrated on Enos. "Still owe you and Turk one. Figure I could pay my debt. Never found a way to do it before. But I didn't know for sure about anything, I swear."

"Never mind me, what about Kate?"

"Well, you know what I used to do, you know, when you and Turk got me outta that predicament? Thought maybe I could work for you again." He looked over at Thompson again. "Can we do this alone?"

"Thompson stays. You talk," Enos said without skipping a beat.

"He your partner?" Squiggy's left eye twitched, and he blinked both eyes rapidly.

"Are you strung out?" Thompson asked.

"Hell no. I don't do that shit. Enos, tell him I don't..."

"Squiggy!" Enos grabbed the upper bridge of his nose above the splint to pinch off as much of the advancing pain and nausea as he could. A tone of malice crept into his voice that unnerved even Thompson.

"I'm usually a real patient man. But I got a headache the size of a Georgia watermelon, and I'm worn slap out...so my patience is wearin' real, real thin. Unless you wanna find your sorry carcass out on the street where they can git at ya,' you better start spillin' the beans about what you said to me on Friday night and everything you know about what happened to Kate Broussard."

Turned out Squiggy had made a lifetime career of being a gopher for the lower levels of humanity; in LA, in San Francisco, San Diego, and finally, back in LA for the past several months. Since he'd been out of the area for so long, no one knew of Underwood's former 'association' with police officers from the LAPD. There was a new crop of lowlifes out there. Within the span of a few months, he had already tapped that well dry.

Kate never had a chance. In all his forty-five years, Enos had only thought himself capable of deliberately ending someone's life once before, and it had sent him back to do his penance in Hazzard for six years.

The little worm sat on the information for a week before Kate was abducted. Squiggy had all kinds of excuses, none of which Enos would ever forgive him for. The only thing that had kept him from grabbing the little bastard by the neck was Thompson pulling Squiggy out of the way and throwing him into the back of the car. They drove into the city in complete silence. When they arrived at central booking, Thompson spirited Underwood off to interrogation - Squiggy protesting all the way that Enos had lied to him and Thompson reminding him that Strate had never said they wouldn't take him in.

"Strate just said if you didn't want to find yourself back on the street. Let's just say, for now, you're in protective custody. And you better hope the street's the only thing you need to be protected from, Buddy-roe."

Enos wasn't around to hear the exchange between Thompson and Mr. Warren Underwood; he didn't trust himself enough to be in the same room with him. He was preparing a warrant for Kate's former pimp, one Victor Baptiste Mollaret.