Jake pushed the thought away. “It’s all online now, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Almost exclusively,” Leonora confirmed. “Some of it’s still done old-school, but online is the richest hunting ground for them.”
Leonora noticed Jake looking at the agents in the booths. “They’re using voice-changing software,” she said. “Makes them sound young, or feminine, whatever spider they need to be to catch the fly.”
“Let's go into my office and you can tell me more about this guy you're looking for,” she said.
Jake nodded and watched as an agent typed a bunch of heart emojis into a chat box as he passed her station.
“This is such soul-sucking work,” he observed.
“It sure is but every single time one of them goes down, I can sleep a little better at night,” Leonora said.
Jake sat down across from her in her small, tidy office.
“I'm surprised posing like kids still works. You’d think they’d change their methods after seeing a few of their friends busted on TV,” Jake said.
“No, that’s what you would do because you’re smart and also not a criminal,” Leonora said as she sat at her desk. “I don't want to say pedophiles are stupid, but they have their urges and my agents really can come off as a ten-year-old boy or a twelve-year-old girl. Sometimes even younger.”
A shiver ran down Jake's spine. An image of the graves from Oregon popped into his head and once again, he pushed it away.
“You ever heard of Jerome Wexler?” he asked.
Leonora shook her head no. “You mentioned his name on the phone and I did a little digging to see what he was about,” she said.
“You were always the best at research. Did you find anything after 1994?”
“Nope. Nothing. He escaped on that private jet and was never heard from again apparently,” she said. “When the police looked into him at the time there were all the usual flags put out to the agency and we alerted Interpol, but there was never a hit.”
“He stole money from his primary client. A multi-millionaire who made his fortune in hardware stores. The old guy had a lot of cash. Wexler set up this camp through a few shell corporations and used the site as a child pornography movie studio, as well as a private pedophile resort of sorts. He could have absconded with up to three hundred million.”
Leonora grimaced. “I read the reports from your time in Oregon,” she said.
Jake’s eyebrows raised. “Really? How’d you get your hands on those?”
“The CEHTTF has jurisdiction on those types of crimes. My division is international, actually. But we play nice and share our things.”
“The FBI loves their letters, don't they,” Jake said.
“We do,” Leonora smiled and nodded her head. “The Child Exploitation and Human Trafficking Task Force is what that stands for. In any case, I was able to get the FBI file on Black Rock Island. Jerome Wexler is not mentioned anywhere.”
“Is that so?” Jake was surprised.
“Yes, the name on the top was Chris Becker, who, from what I understand, was the son of some millionaire up there. Supposedly, he was the mastermind of the operation.”
“Impossible.” Jake shook his head. “Chris Becker was a victim of the camp. He was just a kid when it was active.”
“That makes sense,” she said. “You've gotten a lot further than they have. They’re still looking into the shell corporations set up for that camp on the island.”
“That’s disappointing I honestly don’t know what else to say on that. I don’t understand why they would be dragging their feet, or throwing Chris Becker under a bus,” Jake said.
“Well,” Leonora shrugged. “Dead men tell no tales, and they make for great fall guys because of it.”
She let that hang in the air for a moment and Jake took it all in.
“Okay, well I wanted to come see you today because of Jerome Wexler,” he said. “We know once a pedophile always a pedophile. He's definitely out of the country and so far, I've found no trace of the private jet, the money, or him.”
“I’m listening,” Leonora said, sitting back in her chair.
“Have your teams uncovered trafficking or child pornography rings with large funding sources? I’m talking wealthy men with access to kids. That seems to be the kind of people Wexler catered to.”
“We’ve found Asian conglomerates that deal heavily in the sex slavery trade, but the one that we've been looking at recently is out of Europe, specifically Russia. That crew seems to be swimming in money. Have you seen the stories about the women from Eastern Europe with the barcodes on their necks or arms? That’s their mark of property. We haven’t been able to get close to the power center yet because it’s in Moscow.”
“I wouldn't be surprised if the Russian officials have their fingers in that pie,” Jake said dryly.
Leonora nodded. “If this guy only likes the uber rich, I can imagine him having some interaction with this organization. They traffic in all ages, male and female. They’re latest move is preying on Syrian children coming over the borders unaccompanied.”
“Spoils of war,” Jake said bitterly.
“Did you ever clue on any viable aliases for Wexler?” she asked.
“No, and believe me, I’ve looked.”
“He had to have had at least one new identity well-established before he got on that plane.”
“That’s my assumption, as well.”
“You've given us a lead with the plane information,” she said.
“I’m trying to uncover where it landed back in 1994. I spoke with Interpol in the Netherlands and they have no record of the plane or Wexler ever entering the country.”
“Ah, that’s why you’re really here. You want me to track down this jet?” she asked.
“I don't have access to your databases anymore,” he reminded her.
“I’ll see what I can find,” she said.
Jake smiled. “Thank you. Any new groups I uncover, you’ll be the first to know,” he said.
“I should hope so, Jake,” she said. “How are you feeling after finding Lauren Harper finally?”
Jake's heart dropped. He wasn't sure how he felt about finding Lauren. He was happy he finally had a place to go and talk to her. He hoped she was at peace. Neither he nor Harri were any closer to uncovering who had killed her. The frustration of that kept him up at night.
“She was alive for a year before they killed her. That information has been hard to deal with. We need to find him,” he said.
Leonora nodded and didn't say anything. She didn’t need to. They sat quietly for several moments, thinking of the implications of the case.
Jake cleared his throat. “Thank you so much for meeting with me on such short notice. You’ve given me hope,” he said and stood up to go.
“Jake, if he’s still out there, we’ll find him,” Leonora promised. She pulled herself up from her seat and came around her desk. She wrapped him in a big hug.
“We have to do dinner this month,” she said. “Danny and I won’t take no for an answer. And don’t tell me your busy. Everyone’s busy. We want to meet Harri and Danny has a new Pinot he’s saving for a special occasion.”
Jake nodded and promised they would.
She led him out of the office and he kept his composure until he heard the click of the door behind him. He walked quickly down the hall, away from the prying eyes of the FBI camera.
He clutched the iron banister and took deep breaths. His anxiety rushed through his body and his fingers and toes tingled with the adrenaline.
Jake breathed in.
One, two, three.
Breathe out.
His breathing technique took about ten minutes to calm him down enough to walk. He swayed a little on his feet, but he was okay enough to drive. The walk to the parking structure would expel some more adrenaline as well.
13
Day 2
Detectives Harri Harper and Tom Bards walked into Exam Room One at the L
os Angeles County Medical Examiner – Coroner's Office for the autopsy of Sophie Lambert.
Their plans to separate and speak to the casting directors had been dashed when the coroner’s office called and the assistant asked if they could make it to the coroner’s office right away. It had taken them only twenty minutes to get there.
Dr. Leanne Grimley nodded to them and turned to her assistant. “Detective Harriet Harper and Detective Tom Bards have entered Exam Room One to observe the autopsy of Sophie Lambert, age seventeen,” she said.
The coroner was in full medical gear, all her instruments placed on a tray next to her. Harri and Tom had both put on paper medical robes on top of their clothes and paper booties over their shoes to make sure they didn't bring any of the outside world onto Sophie Lambert's body. When Harri first saw Tom with the paper cap on, she wanted to laugh but held it in. She knew she looked just as ridiculous.
Dr. Leanne Grimley removed the sheet from Sophie Lambert and Harri forced down the wince that came whenever she saw a dead body. Sophie had been a beautiful girl. Now, her skin was mottled and disfigured. Decomposition was far along and the smell was overwhelming. The body was disfigured with gas and when Dr. Grimly made the chest incision, the gas came out in a swoosh. Harri stepped back.
“She's definitely in a later stage of decomp,” Dr. Grimley said.
She took each one of Sophie’s organs out, weighed them, documenting color and appearance. The doctor checked all the different cavities and documented the various cuts, contusions, and damage.
Harri couldn’t help but tune out some of the damage done to this poor girl’s body. She had evidently been raped multiple times and it was hard for Harri to keep listening.
According to the coroner, Sophie had no signs of ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. She had been kept somewhere, so that likely meant drugs. How else would they have controlled her? She was also starved, apparently. Her recent weight loss was a sign of that, as well as the fact the cuticles on her fingernails had receded.
“The heart has signs of acute myocardial infarction,” Dr. Grimley said.
“Heart attack?” Tom asked.
“Appears so,” Dr. Grimley said.
“She was only seventeen,” Tom said.
“I've sent hair samples to the lab as well as all samples from under her nails. Hopefully that will give you some information about where she’s been and who she’s been with. The toxicology report is back. I sent it out yesterday. They found Fentanyl and Heroin in her system,” she said.
“Are you thinking overdose?” Harri asked.
“She didn't have enough in her system to OD. She might have had an unknown underlying heart condition. When you’re seventeen, you believe you’re invincible. If her heart hadn’t caused her any trouble how would she know?” Dr. Grimes asked.
“Are you marking this a suspicious death?” Harri asked.
“I need more time with the heart,” Dr. Grimley said. “As of right now, I’ll be ruling her death as a heart attack, results pending. I’ve swabbed her orifices for semen. I’ll let you know those results when I get them.”
Harri and Tom exchanged a look. Could Sophie’s death have simply been a terrible accident? The body was dumped in the house to hide the fact she’d been held and raped repeatedly. It was possible that wasn’t the desired end point. Addison could very well still be alive. Drugged up, but alive.
The two detectives stayed for the rest of the autopsy, but Dr. Grimley didn’t have any more revelations for them. They got her permission to leave and she granted it.
“You were right,” Tom said.
“About the drugs? Yeah, ten points for me,” Harri said rolling her eyes as they made their way out to the cruiser. “I’m wondering if this was an accidental death. The house was a body dump. But, why not leave her on the street to be found if it was accidental?”
“Yeah, the body in the wall was so dramatic,” Tom agreed. “Maybe whoever dumped the body didn’t know it was accidental. If she was being trafficked, then whoever dumped her might’ve thought one of the johns killed her.”
“They had to know how strong the drugs they gave her were,” Harri said as they approached the car.
“She didn’t have enough in her system to warrant an overdose, though,” Tom reminded her.
“Right, but Tom this means Addison could still be alive,” Harri said.
“We should assume she is, but for how long is another question entirely.”
“You think they’ll try to get rid of her?” Harri asked.
“I would. Most likely sell her off to some group out of state. That means the clock just moved up, Harri. We’re really running out of time here.”
“Let’s go work that list then. Find out about where the party was. This is clearly an organized operation.”
“It could be a single person who took them,” Tom said.
“Not two teenage girls, too much trouble. This had to be an organized effort.”
“Harri, so far there’s no real evidence of that. We can’t just present one of your hunches without evidence,” Tom said.
“Then let’s go get it,” Harri said.
14
Day 2
Debi Mills pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. She’d just watched the most amazing performance she'd ever seen of a one-act play by two actors she'd seen in TV shows. Now, Desmond Ryan, the famous acting coach, went through the scene line by line, beat by beat, to show the actors how to better connect with each other and project emotion. Debi snuck a peek at Georgie.
Georgie smiled back at her. “Isn’t this great?” she whispered.
“I can't believe I'm here,” Debi said.
Desmond finished up giving kudos and critique to the two actors. The class erupted in applause. The two actors took a bow and went back to their seats.
Desmond handed out the assignments for the next class. Debi’s chest constricted. What must it be like to be in the class, surrounded by the kind of actors she could dream of becoming, and doing this kind of work?
“Do you want to meet him?” Georgie asked.
Shyness suddenly came over Debi. “I'm sure he's so busy. I wouldn't want to disturb him,” she said, her heart pounding. Of course, she wanted to meet him, but she didn’t want to come off as desperate.
Debi wished she had enough money to take classes like this. She’d absolutely book jobs within a month of lessons with Desmond Ryan. Adrenaline shot through her. Hearing the nuggets of technique made Debi crave more. Maybe she could audit more classes. Would he allow that? The cost of daily lessons would be impossible. But maybe she could do once or twice a week? Her mind raced with wondering how she could scrounge up twenty-five dollars for another class.
Acting was a constant communication between the people in a scene in the present moment, both in body movement and dialogue. On-camera work differed because the actor interacted with the camera almost as much as with another actor. Sometimes actors stood behind the camera to help keep that human connection, but not always.
The Desmond Ryan studio was nondescript and small. Someone of Desmond’s stature could have a large open space with more students than were present at today's class.
Instead, the studio was tucked into a strip mall off National Boulevard in the Palms section of Los Angeles, an area she didn't know very well. Palms was just south of the 10 freeway and east of the 405 freeway. She’d ventured there only once before and had gotten lost looking for the address Georgie gave her.
Georgie interrupted her thoughts with a nudge. “I know you want to meet him,” she said.
“I’m nobody, though and these actors are so talented,” Debi said.
“He would love to meet you,” Georgie said and pulled Debi up to her feet.
“I don't think I'm ready for this,” Debi said, but Georgie ignored her.
They walked down the steps to where Desmond was talking to one of the male students. When he saw Georgie, a huge smile crossed his face.
“Georgie girl! So good to see you,” he said and gave Georgie a bear hug. Then he turned his sharp brown eyes to Debi.
“Georgie mentioned you’d be auditing my class today,” he said.
“Thank you so much for allowing me to experience this. It was amazing watching you work,” Debi said.
“We had a full day of truth today.” He nodded. “Angie and Martin really pushed themselves past their comfort boundaries and got down to the core of the scene. I love classes like this. It energizes me.”
“Me too,” Debi said. “I can barely stand still.”
“I told you Desmond was the best,” Georgie said with a wink.
“Well yes, I am. Thank you for saying so,” Desmond said with a huge grin and a slight bow. A student behind him giggled.
“So, Des. Are you still doing private on-camera lessons?” Georgie asked.
“I am. You getting back into the game?” he asked.
“I'm always up for the game,” Georgie said. “But I’m asking for Debi.”
“Um, I don’t, um, I’d love to but,” Debi fumbled in a panic. She couldn’t imagine what this man cost per hour.
Georgie put a hand on Debi’s shoulder. She understood and stopped talking.
“If you're available, I’ll contact you to set something up for Debi then,” Georgie said.
Desmond nodded. “You know how to reach me. Excuse me, I need to talk to Kevin before he leaves.”
He stepped away from them and Debi turned to Georgie.
“George, I can't pay for any of this,” Debi whispered. Her cheeks burned and she could feel sweat gathering above her lip. If she could disappear from embarrassment, she would. “I haven’t even booked my first job yet.”
“That doesn't matter,” Georgie explained. “If you spend time working with him, you will book.”
The Broken Trail: A Chilling Serial Killer Thriller (Harriet Harper Thriller Book 3) Page 8
