by Tripp Ellis
"Yes, indeed."
"We totally saw your video today. We're big fans of Chloe-C’s. We totally want to be in your next video. What do you think?" she asked, jiggling her assets. The adorable blonde’s innocent eyes pleaded.
Styxx and JD were drawn to her magnetic cleavage. They didn’t even pretend to maintain eye contact.
"I think you two ladies could be in one of our videos anytime,” JD said with a grin.
The girls smiled and bounced up and down with excitement.
“I’m Syn,” the perky blonde said. “And this is Dee.”
“Are you two sisters?” JD asked.
The two girls exchanged a glance and giggled. “No, but we can be anything you want us to be,” she said in a breathy voice. It was the kind of voice that went straight down your spine and woke the captain.
Styxx and JD chatted up the girls, and the interaction seemed to lift Styxx from his melancholy mood. Those two girls could lift anyone’s spirits.
It didn’t take long for a crowd to gather around the musicians. I had a sneaking suspicion that this was just a small taste of the attention the band would get.
We stayed at Tide Pool until close, then moved the after party back to the boat as usual.
When I woke in the morning, I started cleaning up beer cans and whiskey bottles. I didn't see anyone on deck, but I figured the guys in the band had made good use of the guest staterooms. There was a black lacy bra on the deck in the salon near a halter top and a miniskirt. I was quite sure someone got lucky on the sofa and had adjourned to a more private setting.
I took Buddy for a walk, then came back and fixed breakfast and put on a pot of coffee. The smell of fresh bacon and coffee wafted through the super-yacht.
JD made his way into the galley with a grin on his face just as the bacon was crisping up. It popped and sizzled in the pan.
"I'm definitely liking having a top-ten hit. I can say that without reservation."
I chuckled. “I take it things went well with Syn and Dee?”
He smiled. “You know. Gotta give the fans what they want.”
JD checked his phone to see where the song was ranking. “Yes!” he shouted, pulling a fist. “We’re back up to #4!”
“Congratulations!”
“Come on #1!” he yelled excitedly.
My phone buzzed with a call from Sheriff Daniels. I pulled it from my pocket and swiped the screen. His gruff voice barked through the tiny speaker. “You need to get down here ASAP.”
I was beginning to dread early morning phone calls from the sheriff.
22
We hopped into JD's Porsche and headed to the station. Daniels told me two divers had found something we needed to see. We met him on the dock and hurried to an aluminum Defender Class patrol boat.
I cast off the lines and climbed aboard the boat with a team of divers, Brenda, and the forensics guys.
Sheriff Daniels took the helm and navigated out of the slip. When we cleared the marina, he throttled up and brought the boat on plane. The hull carved through the swells and waves crashed against the bow, spraying mists of saltwater. The engines rumbled, leaving a swath of white water in our wake. The morning sun glistened on the teal water, and a cool breeze blew through my hair. Something told me this nice morning was about to turn ugly.
Within half an hour, we were at the reef near Barracuda Key island. A 30-foot sport yacht was tied up to a mooring buoy by the reefs. Two divers in wetsuits sat in the cockpit of the boat. They flagged us down, and we pulled alongside their craft.
"She's right below us," one of the divers said. "We didn't touch anything."
"How long ago did you find the body?" Daniels asked.
"We were just diving the reefs when we came across her. We surfaced and called you guys."
The county dive team did last-minute checks on their gear, donned their masks, and fell over the gunwale, splashing into the water. They disappeared below the surface, leaving a trail of bubbles.
The sheriff had a tense look on his face as we waited for divers to surface with the grim discovery.
The dive team took underwater photographs of the remains before bringing the body to the surface.
A swarm of bubbles erupted at the surface, and a diver emerged a moment later with the body of a young, nude girl in his arms. Her skin was pale and lifeless, and what was left of her eyeballs were milky. They must have been a delicatessen for the critters of the sea.
Her hair was matted and twisted, but her body was mostly untouched except for the bruising and abrasions around her waist, neck, wrists, and ankles. A rope had been tied to a small Danforth anchor, which kept her at the bottom, despite her carcass filling with decomposition gases.
We helped lift the remains onto the boat and set the girl’s body gently on the deck. Brenda had already snapped on her nitrile gloves. She began to examine the gruesome remains.
JD and I spoke with the guys who discovered her.
“Do you know the girl?"
"No," Rich said.
"Have you ever seen her before?" I asked.
"No."
I asked Rich and Todd several more questions and took their contact information. They had driven down from Georgia for the weekend to dive and fish.
The girl was young. Maybe 18 or 19. She had blonde hair, a petite figure, and blue eyes, which were now a milky gray color.
"How long has she been in the water?" Daniels asked.
"A couple of days, maybe," Brenda said. "Hard to tell right now. She looks in pretty good shape."
"She looks dead,” the sheriff said flatly.
Brenda shot him a look.
There were ligature marks around the girl's neck, wrists, and ankles. It was easy to see that she had been bound at some point prior to being dumped in the water.
Another diver brought up the anchor and the rope that had been tied around the girl’s waist.
"It's a long shot, but let's see if we can find out what type of rope that is and where it’s sold, along with the anchor."
They were common items that could have been purchased anywhere—probably years ago.
The divers climbed aboard, water dripping from their neoprene suits. They removed their gear and masks. We cut Rich and Todd loose. Sheriff Daniels took the helm and angled the boat back toward Coconut Key.
I shared a grim look with JD.
"I don't think we’re going to recover much evidence from the body,” Brenda shouted over the roar of the engines. “The water will have washed away any trace evidence. I’ll examine her for signs of sexual assault, but in cases like this, that's almost a given."
I frowned.
“Savages," JD muttered.
"On a positive note, I did recover fibers from Helen Carter's neck.
I lifted an intrigued eyebrow.
“A cotton/polyester blend. Common in T-shirts. The fibers are navy blue. In my opinion, the killer wore a long sleeve shirt, put Helen in a chokehold, and strangled her. He certainly was meticulous. He did, in fact, clean her hands and fingernails with bleach, destroying any genetic material."
"What about the lighter?"
"No fingerprints on the lighter.”
"Really?"
"It may have fallen from his pocket during the struggle, or it could be completely unrelated. Hard to say. But you find the navy blue shirt, I'll be able to match it to the fibers."
"I saw someone just yesterday wearing a navy blue shirt." I looked at JD, and he knew exactly who I was talking about.
"Even if you match the fibers, it doesn't prove anything,” JD said. “There have to be thousands of shirts with a similar fabric."
“We can match the die lot and narrow it down,” Brenda said. “There will be small variations across the production run, which could narrow it down even further. Dyes change slightly between batches. It's circumstantial, but it’s better than nothing," Brenda said. “You find somebody with a shirt that matches those fibers, it would be an astronomical coincidence if they
didn’t do it.”
“Beyond a reasonable doubt?” I asked, playing devil’s advocate.
“That’s not my area. I just deal with the facts. The evidence.”
When we arrived at the station, we unloaded the remains and helped Brenda put them into the medical examiner's van.
I asked Sheriff Daniels about the shirt fibers. He had already spoken with Brenda about them. "Do you think we have enough to get a warrant for Rex Rayford? He's got a history of violence toward Helen. Recently arrested for criminal trespass with the case pending. I'll sign an affidavit that I observed the suspect wearing a shirt similar to the fibers found on the body."
"Let's see what the judge says. I know what Ed Perry would have said. Oh, and I heard back from the task force about those images. Computer forensics sent them to the FBI.”
23
"The task force confirmed that, despite appearances, there was nothing illegal about any of those images found on Ed Perry's hard drive,” Daniels said. “The performers were identified, and the images are all commercially produced and are in the known database of non-abusive material." The relief on the sheriff’s face was evident. "Ed Perry can go to his grave with his reputation mostly intact."
"That's a good thing,” I replied.
"I'm of the mind that Dorothy need never know about those images. It's not gonna do anybody any good except cause additional suffering. I think she's been through enough."
"Whatever you say," JD said.
"As far as the warrant, I'll see what I can do." Then he added, “Oh, and talk to that hooker Ed was seeing. See if there's anything there."
"You got it," JD replied.
"It should be right up your alley,” Daniels muttered.
JD smiled. "Never paid for it, never will."
"Oh, you've paid for it, all right. Six times," Daniels said, teasing him about his six failed marriages.
JD frowned at him. “You know how to hurt a man.”
“I think your picker’s broken.”
“My picker works just fine. It just picks the wrong ones. But it will work right one of these days. Even a broken clock’s right twice a day.”
Daniels gave him a skeptical glance.
We stepped inside the Sheriff’s Department and made our way to the conference room where we filled out after-action reports on iPads and signed sworn affidavits about the shirt Rex Rayford was wearing when we saw him yesterday. It seemed odd he’d still be wearing the same shirt the day after the murder. But maybe clean clothes weren’t a priority for Rex?
Agent Blake called while we were in the conference room. "Hey, just thought I'd let you know the brand of printer was the JetMax™ CM 800T."
"That's pretty specific."
"It's the only printer that has the exact same dot pattern."
"Nice work.”
"How did it go with the law firm?"
"Nothing conclusive. But they didn't have JetMax printers in their office that I saw."
"This is going to sound strange, but does Deputy Donovan play in a band?"
I chuckled.
"Yes, he does."
"Wild Fury?"
"That's the one."
"Oh, my God. I saw that video."
"Did you?"
"Yes. It was outrageous. I liked it."
"How did you see it?"
“I hate to admit this, and if you tell anyone, I’ll kill you… I’m a fan of Chloe-C. I know, I know, it's candy pop, but I like her music, and I follow her on social media."
"Your secret is safe with me."
"All right, I'll be in touch when I’ve got something else. Oh, yeah, the paper was a common brand sold in multiple office supply stores throughout the state."
"Sounds like we’re not going to be able to narrow that purchase down."
"Probably not."
"I should have a list of current and previous employees at the law firm Monday. I’ll cross-reference those with ex-cons that appeared in the judge’s court. Maybe we can narrow something down."
"Let's hope so."
I ended the call and told JD he had another fan.
"You should have invited her to our next show."
"I'll do that next time I speak with her."
I took the time to call the two girls Dawson and Zane claimed to have been with at the time of Helen’s murder, Kaitlyn and Maryam. I couldn’t get in touch with Maryam, but Kaitlyn answered her phone when I called. She was groggy on a Saturday morning. No doubt a full night of partying the night before.
I introduced myself and asked her about the night in question.
“Ugh, those guys are dicks,” Kaitlyn said.
“You're sure you were with them between 8 and 10 PM the night before last?”
"Thursday, right?" Caitlin said.
"Yes."
"Yes, I'm positive. Why? Are they in some kind of trouble?"
"We’re just trying to verify their whereabouts during that time."
She hesitated for a moment. "Can I press charges against Dawson?”
"For what?" I asked, full of curiosity.
"He's such an asshole."
"I don't think that’s a criminal offense at this time."
"What about STDs?"
"He gave you an STD?"
She hesitated. "Hypothetically speaking. Say, if I were asking for a friend."
"It would depend on a few factors. If the person you—I mean, your friend—had intercourse with knew of their status and didn't acquire your consent prior to engaging in sexual activity, that could be a crime. A misdemeanor. If said person had HIV, that would be a felony in this state. But the burden of proof rests on the State to prove the defendant knew, which is difficult. Rarely do these types of cases move forward.”
Kaitlyn was silent.
"I would suggest you tell your friend to see her primary care physician for an evaluation."
Kaitlyn swallowed hard. “Um, okay, thank you. I'll tell my friend.”
She hung up the phone.
I brought JD up to speed with her situation.
“I’m gonna ask every groupie that comes to a show if she knows Dawson,” JD said.
The hazards of the rock ’n’ roll life.
Daniels poked his head into the conference room. “You’re not going to like this.”
I groaned. "The judge said no?”
“Said there's not enough there for a warrant. You can't go around arresting people just because they wear blue long sleeve T-shirts. Find something more substantial."
"I haven't been able to get hold of Rex’s girlfriend to confirm his alibi,” I said. “And there is no way Rex will let us search his house without a warrant.”
"Get creative. Find a way to get those shirt fibers. Legally," Daniels added with emphasis.
“How are we supposed to do that?" I asked.
"You two are clever. Figure it out."
24
I called Rex's girlfriend, Jayleen Newman. According to Rex, she was one of his girlfriends. It was hard to say how many he actually had. Something told me he was overstating things.
When I finally got in touch with her, Jayleen didn't seem happy to hear from me. "Who is this, and why do you keep calling my number?"
"Ms. Newman, this is Deputy Wild with the Coconut County Sheriff's Department."
"What do you want?"
"I'd like to talk to you about Rex Rayford."
"I don't talk to cops."
"I understand. But you're not in any trouble."
"And I intend to stay that way. Talking to cops causes nothing but trouble."
"I just need some answers that only you can provide. It would be a big help. No trouble. I promise."
Jayleen said nothing.
"Were you aware that Rex's ex-wife, Helen Carter, was recently murdered?"
Jayleen hesitated for another moment. "No, I didn't know that."
"Were you aware that Rex had been contacting her repeatedly?"
"I knew Rex couldn't stand the bitch
."
"Do you think he was angry enough to kill her?"
"Now you’re putting words in my mouth."
"Rex says he was with you at the time of the murder. Can you verify that statement?"
"I could if you told me when she was murdered," Jayleen said.
"We believe she was strangled between 8 and 10 PM Thursday night."
"Strangled?" she asked with a hint of curiosity.
"Yes, ma'am. There were no signs of forced entry, so we believe the assailant was someone she knew."
Jayleen stammered, "I… I think I was with Rex during that time."
"You think, or you know?"
There was another long pause.
"I'm not sure. I don't think I want to say anymore without an attorney."
"You’re not under arrest, Ms. Newman." I paused a beat. "We're just talking. You don't have to say anything you don't feel comfortable saying." I needed to keep her on the line. I asked a question I knew would get to her. "Do you think Rex still had feelings for Helen?"
I let it hang there for a moment.
"No! He hated her."
"Maybe he hated her because he couldn't be with her anymore," I suggested.
"That's a load of bullshit."
"Is it?"
She was silent again.
"I mean, you don't go to those lengths to harass somebody for 10 years if you have no feelings for them. Sometimes there is a fine line between love and hate."
The line was silent.
Jayleen took a breath, then sighed. “I don't know. If you want the God's honest truth, I think Rex still carried a torch for her. He’d never admit it, and I didn't want to believe it, but I guess it's true."
"How long have you been seeing each other?"
"Oh, I guess about five years now."
"Is it serious?"
"As it can be."
"You two don’t live with each other, correct?"
"He likes his space, and I like mine. It works that way. Plus, he made it very clear upfront that he was never getting married again, and if I had a problem with that, I knew where the door was."
"Is he seeing anybody else?"
"He better not be."
"He made it sound like he had more than one girlfriend."
