Her Winter of Darkness

by Melinda Woodhall

  A deafening silence filled the house after Ling had been driven away in the black SUV. Veronica sat at the kitchen table nursing a cooling cup of tea with Gracie curled up by her feet.

  The white Lab had stayed close to her most of the day, and Gracie’s quiet presence had proven to be more soothing than Veronica could have imagined. She’d always been a bit skeptical about the concept of emotional support animals, but Gracie had turned her into a believer.

  Taking another sip of the lukewarm tea, Veronica wondered when Hunter would be back. He’d told her he had an errand to run, and that he’d return shortly. Thinking she may have missed his call, she walked to the charging station on the counter, but it was empty.

  “Now, where did I leave my phone?”

  Gracie looked up at Veronica’s muttered words and watched as Veronica scoured the kitchen before heading into the living room. In the effort to get her mother packed and out of the house she must have put the phone down and left it somewhere.

  Finally finding the phone on her bedside table, Veronica was alarmed to see she’d missed six calls, and that there were several unread text messages. Deputy Santino had advised her that Ling would not use her phone while she was at the safe house, but perhaps her mother had tried to call from another number?

  Veronica scanned the missed calls, seeing only one number she didn’t recognize. The caller had left a message, and Veronica felt her throat constrict as she tapped on the voicemail icon.

  The small voice was hard to hear, but she knew right away that it wasn’t her mother. From the noise in the background, it sounded like the call was being made from a mall or a busy restaurant.

  Listening carefully, Veronica tried to make out the words.

  “Um, Veronica? This is Ruby Chase. I’m not at Hope House anymore. I, um…I was scared because I saw one of Diablo’s men there. But now I don’t have anywhere else to go. Hello?”

  The recording ended abruptly, leaving Veronica staring at the phone. She tapped on the call back option, but no one picked up. She let it ring a dozen times, then hung up.

  Guilt flooded her. She’d completely forgotten about the poor girl who’d been a victim of men just like her father. Men who would abuse and exploit innocent women without remorse.

  Recalling how scared and alone Ruby had seemed, Veronica knew she had to try to find her. She sat on her bed and tried to think.

  Where is there to hide in Willow Bay? Where would Ruby feel safe?

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs caused Veronica’s heart to thump in her chest. Reaching into the drawer of her bedside table, she pulled out her Glock and crept quietly to the open door.

  Hunter’s tall figure appeared on the landing. He stopped short when he saw Veronica standing in the bedroom doorway, the big gun in her hand.

  “I guess you didn’t hear me come in.”

  Letting out her pent-up breath, Veronica started to rush forward but Hunter held up a hand.

  “Put that thing away first,” he said, giving the Glock a dirty look. “You could have killed me. Then who would be here to protect you?”

  “That’s not funny,” Veronica said, spinning around and returning the gun to its place in the drawer. “I thought you were my father come to take me home.”

  Hunter followed her into the room and looked around.

  “I always wanted to get you in here alone,” he said, pulling her close. “But I never wanted it to happen this way.”

  Resting her head on his chest, Veronica sighed.

  “The house already seems so empty without Ma.”

  She closed her eyes against the pain, wishing they could forget everything outside the house, but Ruby’s pale face hovered in her mind, unwilling to let her rest.

  “Ruby Chase called and left a message. I think she needs help.”

  Hunter looked down in confusion, and Veronica was surprised he didn’t seem to remember.

  “Remember, the girl that called me from Hope House?” Veronica said. “The one that said she was held by men who worked for Diablo. She also said she knows what he looks like.”

  “Where is she now?”

  Veronica shrugged and crossed to the window, looking down onto the police cruiser still parked outside.

  “That’s the problem. She didn’t say.”

  “Then, I’m not sure what we can do,” Hunter said, coming up behind her. “It isn’t safe for you to go looking for her.”

  Staring out the window, Veronica nodded her agreement.

  “You’re right. It’s not safe for me to go, but what about you?”

  Hunter shook his head.

  “I’m not leaving you alone.”

  “I’m not alone,” Veronica protested. “I’ve got Officer Ford right outside my window, and Nessa on speed dial.”

  She pointed to her bedside table.

  “And if they fail me, I’ve always got my Glock.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Nessa had just sat down at her desk when Riley Odell appeared in the doorway. The state prosecutor had recently announced her engagement to Tucker Vanzinger, so Nessa wasn’t surprised to see her carrying a take-out bag from Bay Subs and Grub.

  “Is that Vanzinger’s lunch?” she asked, wrinkling her nose at the pungent smell of onions and peppers wafting from the bag. “I didn’t know you offered delivery services.”

  “Right now, that sounds a whole lot better than what I’ve been doing,” Riley fumed, leaning on the doorjamb.

  Raising an eyebrow, Nessa waited for Riley to explain.

  “I know you must be busy with the homicide in Old Willow Square and the task force and everything,” Riley said, shaking her head. “But when you have a little free time, remind me to tell you what Judge Eldredge has done now.”

  “Oh, no, you can’t leave me hanging like that,” Nessa said with an eager grin. “You know how much I love old man Eldredge.”

  Riley stepped into the room and lowered her voice.

  “He actually granted Nick Sargent a six-month delay so he can find a new lawyer. And you can bet his new lawyer’s first motion will be to have the case moved to another venue.”

  Shifting the sandwich bag to her other hand, the state prosecutor tucked a strand of dark, shiny hair behind her ear.

  “And I’m sure Eldredge will grant the request,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s just a matter of time before I’ll be driving down to Miami or up to Jacksonville for the trial.”

  Nessa scowled at the thought of Nick Sargent whining to Judge Eldredge about unfair treatment. The ex-reporter hadn’t been worried about the unfair treatment of the people he’d extorted.

  “Well, don’t go too far. Very soon you may have bigger fish to fry than Nick Sargent,” Nessa said with a grimace. “I attended an autopsy this morning and the man who killed that woman has a very long history. Once we bring him in, you’re gonna be a busy bee.”

  The memory of Astrid Peterson’s cold body on the metal autopsy table turned Nessa’s stomach, and the smell from Vanzinger’s lunch wasn’t helping.

  “Do you have a suspect yet?” Riley asked, her delivery duties forgotten as she inched closer. “I know Tucker was all worked up last night, but he didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “It’s a strange case.” Nessa wasn’t sure how to explain without going into too much detail. “But yes, we think we know who killed the woman in Old Willow Square, and the U.S. Marshals are already here to help us track him down.”

  Riley’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Wow, that’s a first,” she said. “I’ve never had the USMS involved in a case I’ve been working on before. I’m guessing this guy must already be a fugitive?”

  “Yep, his name is Donovan Locke, and he’s been on the run from the U.S. Marshals for decades, so there’s no guarantee they’re gonna catch him now.”

  Opening her mouth to tell Riley about Donovan Locke’s connection to Ling Lee, she closed it again when she saw Tenley Frost standing behind Riley in the doorway
.

  Nessa wondered how long the media relations officer had been standing there, and how much she’d heard.

  “Tenley, I didn’t expect to see you here on the weekend,” Nessa called out. “Mayor Hadley must be bugging you for a statement.”

  “I better get this sandwich over to Tucker,” Riley said, slipping past Tenley to make a quick getaway.

  Once Riley had fled down the hall, Tenley stepped into the room and wrinkled her nose.

  “I can’t stand onions.”

  She waved a delicate hand in front of her face.

  “When I was pregnant with Avery Lynn, just the smell would make me sick. I’ve never been able to eat them since.”

  Flashing an impatient smile, Nessa looked at her watch.

  “I’m kind of busy, Tenley. What can I help you with?

  “As you guessed, Mayor Hadley would like to issue a statement in time to make the morning edition of the Gazette.”

  She opened her bag and took out a notepad and pen.

  “Now, I understand from Iris Nguyen that you’ve identified the body and that the next of kin has been notified, is that correct?”

  “Yep, if that’s what Iris said, that’s correct.”

  Making a note on her pad, Tenley looked up.

  “And, Iris said the victim’s name is Astrid Peterson, a twenty-three-year-old college student who was originally from Sweden.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  Nessa knew what the next question would be, but she wasn’t sure how to answer. She couldn’t tell Tenley the truth about Ling Lee's connection to the man who’d killed Astrid Peterson. Not yet at least. Although it would all have to come out in the end.

  “So, what has your investigation revealed so far? Do you know who committed the homicide? Do you have a suspect we can name?”

  Picturing Tenley climbing out of Bixby’s SUV that morning, Nessa shook her head. She didn’t know if she could trust the woman with confidential information. Especially information that Mayor Hadley and his campaign manager would use against Ling Lee.

  “Chief Ainsley?”

  Dave Eddings knocked on the doorframe.

  “What’s up, Dave?” Nessa asked, sensing a possible way out of her predicament.

  “I’m looking for Special Agent Marlowe,” the officer said, studiously keeping his eyes off Tenley’s striking figure as he hovered in the doorway. “Hunter Hadley’s out here asking to speak to him.”

  Jumping up from her desk, Nessa summoned an apologetic smile for Tenley as she crossed the room.

  “I really need to see what’s going on out there, but I’ll write up a summary of our findings so far and email it over as soon as possible.”

  Tenley shrugged in helpless agreement as Nessa swept past her into the hall and out into the lobby, where Hunter paced in front of the big glass windows, his handsome face a mask of impatience.

  “Mr. Hadley, I hear you’re looking for Special Agent Marlowe.”

  “I have information about a possible trafficking victim who may be in trouble.” Hunter’s voice was strained. “She called Veronica to ask for help. I’m here to pass on the information to Agent Marlowe.”

  Guiding Hunter down the hall, Nessa stopped outside the briefing room where the joint task force had set up operations. She knocked twice on the door, then pushed it open. Vanzinger and Jankowski sat at a long table with several other men in shirtsleeves and ties.

  “Sorry to bother you guys, but I’m looking for Agent Marlowe.”

  Jankowski stood and joined Hunter and Nessa by the door.

  “Agent Marlowe had to step out for a meeting.”

  He eyed Hunter with suspicion.

  “Is there something I can do to help you?”

  “A girl named Ruby Chase needs your help,” Hunter said. “She was held by men who were dealing drugs and forcing women to work for them. She says she saw the boss. His men called him Diablo.”

  A gleam entered Jankowski’s eyes at the name.

  “Where is this girl?” the big detective asked. “If she knows where Diablo is, we need to speak to her.”

  “Ruby was in rehab over at Hope House, but she got spooked. Now she’s back on the street, and she’s scared.”

  The door to the briefing room opened again, and Agent Marlowe stepped inside. He didn’t look happy to see Hunter and Nessa.

  “What’s going on?”

  Jankowski spoke up before Hunter could.

  “A victim’s been in touch with Channel Ten. The girl escaped from the Diablo Syndicate. She may be able to lead us to him.”

  “Where is she?” Marlowe asked, turning to Hunter.

  Meeting Marlowe’s eyes, Hunter shrugged.

  “We don’t know where she is. That’s why I’m here.”

  There was an edge to Hunter’s voice Nessa hadn’t heard before.

  “I was hoping your task force would be able to find her. You guys are supposed to be stopping traffickers, and saving victims, right?”

  Looking toward Nessa, Marlowe raised an eyebrow.

  “If I remember correctly, you assigned detectives to the Ruby Chase case. Any update on where she is?”

  The image of Ingram’s scowling face flashed through Nessa’s mind. Now that Peyton was working with Santino to protect Ling Lee, the Ruby Chase case was all Ingram’s.

  “I can check with Detective Ingram,” Nessa said with reluctance.

  Marlowe nodded, then reached into the pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a card and handed it to Hunter.

  “If you hear from Ruby Chase again, call me right away.”

  He turned back to Nessa.

  “In the meantime, let’s get with Detective Ingram and see what progress he’s made. I’m sure if we work together, we can find this girl. Then we can find out what she knows about Diablo.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Frankie’s walk into downtown Willow Bay took longer than usual. He’d had the day off from the all-consuming Bixby case, but had woken up restless, thinking about Peyton; thoughts about the pretty detective brought back his worries about Ruby Chase. He couldn’t help wondering where she was, and if Diablo’s men had gotten hold of her again.

  After he’d spent the morning pacing around the house, his mother had finally told him to go outside and find something to do. It reminded him of when he was a kid in Memphis, and she’d forced him to go outside and play whenever he complained of being bored.

  In no hurry to get to the office, Frankie had taken his time, stopping to buy a new pack of gum, and watching a flag football game in the park. He finally arrived at Barker and Dawson’s Investigations just as a cluster of clouds moved over the sun, throwing the street into chilly shade.

  Unwrapping a stick of gum, Frankie popped it in his mouth and sank into his chair. He’d decided another search through social media might help him uncover something about Ruby that could help him track her down. Someone out there must be looking for her.

  Everyone has someone who cares, right?

  He turned on the computer, but before it had time to boot up, he heard a rustling sound in the back room. He paused and was just about to dismiss the noise as his imagination, when he heard the rustling sound again, followed by a thud.

  That was definitely not my imagination.

  Picking up the baseball bat he kept propped beside his desk, Frankie stood and crossed to the flimsy wooden door that separated the two rooms. Another thud from behind the door started his pulse racing. He put a hand on the handle and applied gentle pressure.

  The door swung in to reveal the darkened supply room. The little cot he often used, much to Barker’s displeasure, was hidden in shadows, but he thought he could see a figure on top.

  Shifting the bat to his other hand, Frankie flipped the switch on the wall, flooding the little room in florescent light.

  The figure on the cot snuggled under Frankie’s Miami Dolphins blanket, and a small foot in a dirty sneaker thudded against the wall.

  “W
hat the...Ruby?”

  Frankie moved into the room, his shock turning into relief.

  “Ruby, wake up.”

  Staring down at the girl’s sleeping face, he could see how young she really was. Just a teenager. About the same age Franny had been the last time he’d seen her.

  He considered letting Ruby sleep, but then her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him with sleepy bewilderment.

  “Rory?”

  Frankie shook his head and smiled down at her.

  “No, my name’s Frankie. This is my office…and my cot.”

  Ruby’s eyes widened; she pulled the Miami Dolphins blanket tighter around her, scooching back against the wall.

  “Um…sorry,” she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “I knocked but nobody answered. The door was unlocked.”

  “Yeah, sure it was,” he said. “I always leave my door open for anyone walking by. Just in case they want to take a nap on my cot.”

  Walking back to the doorway, Frankie leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his skinny chest.

  “So, how about you tell me what’s going on?”

  A shadow fell over her face, and Frankie thought he could see the gears spinning in her head as she tried to think up a lie that would sound plausible.

  “And before you waste time thinking up some bullshit story, do us both a favor and tell me the truth. Otherwise I can’t help you.”

  “Why should you want to help me?”

  Frankie shrugged.

  “That’s a long story,” he muttered. “And maybe it doesn’t matter, since you must already believe that I want to help you. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have come here looking for me.”

  Turning her face away, Ruby spoke in a stiff voice.

  “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I got through a few days of detox, but I’m still…well, I still need something to get me by.”

  “Is that why you left Hope House? To get a fix?”

  Ruby shook her head.

  “No, I was scared,” she protested. “I saw one of Diablo’s men at that place. I think he was looking for me.”

  The possibility that a trafficker was trolling rehab facilities for new victims wasn’t hard for Frankie to believe. He knew from experience just how hard it was to stay clean once addiction had gotten you in its iron grip, and the men who wanted to exploit young addicts would know as well.