by Karen Rose
Meredith frowned. ‘Is this the place where you tell us what you know?’
‘Zimmerman sent most of what I know out in a memo to the team last night,’ Kate said. ‘You should have received it too, but for now I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version.’ She brought the psychologist up to speed with the discovery of the Professor as well as the spy pen in Sidney’s backpack that had given them his motive for Alice’s death. ‘I don’t think he’d just give this young woman her freedom. Either she’s escaped and has been hiding, or he knows where she is and has secured her silence, probably with a threat. Otherwise he would have killed her.’
‘But either scenario explains her need for secrecy,’ Troy agreed. ‘If I had to bet, I’d say that he’s threatened her and she believes he’s watching her, whether he is or not. Otherwise she wouldn’t have used the pay phone.’
‘You’re right,’ Meredith said with a nod. ‘I hope she calls back. Otherwise I’m not sure how we can help her. If we do a BOLO, she’ll get scared and run.’
‘We aren’t doing an official BOLO,’ Zimmerman said, returning to the table. ‘I don’t want that information leaked. I have no doubt that she’d run at the first hint that we’re after her. So Kate’s shared what she learned last night. Deacon? You were going to find Alice’s apartment.’
‘I haven’t yet. I gathered surveillance and security videos from the city along with those of storeowners in the area Davenport identified yesterday. I was going to start reviewing the tapes today.’
Zimmerman shook his head. ‘I need you at the jail. I didn’t get far with the staff last night before I left to witness the search of the Siler woman’s bag. Find out who put the cyanide in Alice’s food and the ricin in her bandages. I’ll give the tapes from her neighborhood to a clerk.’
‘Give them to me,’ Decker said. ‘I dropped Alice off several times. Maybe I’ll see something that jogs my memory. At a minimum, I can narrow it down to an area to canvass to see if anyone recognizes her.’
‘Can we put out a request for information through the media?’ Deacon asked. ‘Maybe give Alice’s photo to the TV news and newspapers to see if we get any hits? I know Marcus will help us out and keep back whatever details we don’t want shared.’
‘Let me consider that,’ Zimmerman said. ‘I’d like to not broadcast our interest, at least until we find out who in the prison participated in her murder. Let’s try to find her apartment ourselves first.’
‘And when we find it, we might also find a lead to where the IT guy kept his files,’ Kate added.
Decker nodded. ‘Alice’s half-brother, Sean, was the IT guy. He had ledgers and other financial information on his computer screen because I saw them there.’ He frowned, another thought coming to mind. ‘Sean also knew the access information for his father’s offshore accounts and his false ID. I overheard them arguing, minutes before your people stormed the compound,’ he said to Zimmerman. ‘Sean knew his father’s fake name and where he was planning to hide from the police. He had transferred all the money from his father’s offshore account to his own account. He knew all kinds of things he shouldn’t have known. If he recorded it anywhere, we’ll have access to the inner workings of the traffickers. He might also even have known Alice’s business – including the identity of the kiddie pornographer.’
‘Okay, Griff,’ Zimmerman said with a sigh that said he was agreeing against his best judgment. ‘I know you should be resting, but I need your eyes. The CCTV tapes are yours.’
Decker’s pulse did a little dance. He was back in the game, even if he was on the bench. Next stop: the field. ‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t overdo it or Dani will make us pay.’
Novak was unsuccessful at biting back a grin. ‘You’re scared of my sister, sir?’
Zimmerman pinned him with a glance. ‘Aren’t you?’
Novak made a face. ‘Good point.’
‘I thought so.’ Zimmerman turned to Troy. ‘Any progress on Alice’s profile?’
‘The gym where she stalked Marcus O’Bannion didn’t know her as Alice,’ Troy said. ‘She used an alias. Allison Bassett. The gym personnel were pretty useless, actually. Either the dumb jock stereotype is true, or these guys were really good at acting empty-brained. I’m surprised they remembered their own names, much less anything about Alice.’
‘Was it the gym near King’s College?’ Kate asked.
Troy shook his head. ‘No, near Marcus O’Bannion’s old apartment in Hyde Park. Why? You were thinking this Professor might have dealt steroids at Alice’s gym?’
Kate’s forehead bunched as she frowned. ‘Maybe.’ She waved her hands vaguely. ‘Let me think on it.’
Novak reached into his computer bag and pulled out a stack of printer paper. ‘Fold.’
She smiled at her old partner. ‘You brought paper just for me?’
‘Anything that helps you,’ Novak said.
Kate gave him a sober nod. ‘Thank you.’ She started folding a sheet of paper and it quickly took on the shape of a dog.
It was the equivalent of her knitting and baking, Decker realized. She needed to keep her hands busy to concentrate. That’s why Novak called her the origami queen yesterday.
‘I’m wondering about the gym,’ she said, ‘specifically the Professor’s clients. Everyone knows about him, apparently. He’d hold court at Lovers’ Lane at King’s College, for example, and everyone came to him. But we don’t know how he was supplying the steroids to the gym rats. We also don’t know how he chose them. He had to be careful. He’s been selling for at least a few years without getting caught. He chooses his customers well. He may have been supplying to multiple gyms all over the city.’
‘That might be a better tactic,’ Troy said. ‘Finding out how he chooses his clients – does he have a certain type? Do they come to him through word of mouth? And he disappears from time to time. Maybe those absences follow some kind of a pattern. I think that would be a better use of my time than trying to build a profile on Alice.’
‘Agreed,’ Zimmerman said. ‘Proceed. Adam, you found the bodies of the nurse and her boyfriend. That was good work. Have you questioned her son?’
‘Not yet. Meredith and I were going to see him after we’re done here. He was admitted to the hospital last night for withdrawal.’
‘Addicted to his mother’s drugs,’ Meredith said with disgust.
‘Poor kid,’ Decker murmured. That could have so easily been me.
‘I know what I want to do,’ Kate said, her jaw cocked aggressively. She was folding her third animal, which looked like a seal or a walrus. ‘I want to arrest Mr Corey Addison for possession of child pornography. With Kendra’s report and the way he harassed that poor girl, we should be able to get a warrant to search his home and office, shouldn’t we, boss?’
‘We should,’ Zimmerman said firmly. ‘I’ll have it drawn up and signed. When we’re done here, you go arrest him, Kate. Make sure there are lots of witnesses when you drag his ass in. And be as loud as you possibly can be.’
‘Oh, I will,’ Kate said grimly. ‘Fucking turd.’ She winced. ‘Sorry, sir.’
‘No apologies required,’ Zimmerman said. ‘I couldn’t have said it better myself.’
Kate flashed him a small grin, then bent back down to start folding another sheet of paper. ‘I’d like to take Officer Cullen with me when I make the arrest. She can provide a positive ID and,’ a small shrug, ‘she did all the legwork. She should be in on the collar.’
‘I’ll call Isenberg and see if we can clear it with her CO,’ Zimmerman promised. ‘But only if she’s positioned to get to that Kroger quickly if she’s contacted by the young woman. In fact, Meredith, I’d like you to be on call as well. The young woman will trust Officer Cullen because she tried to help her on Saturday, but . . .’ He frowned. ‘She’s going to need so much therapy after this. I can’t ev
en fathom it.’
Meredith nodded, her mouth drooping sadly. ‘I think the only person I know who can fathom it is Kendra Cullen’s sister, Wendi, because she’s been there. Once we’ve made sure that this young lady is safe from her abusers – or whoever has her so scared – she’ll be welcomed into Wendi’s program. That is, if that’s what she wants. She’s eighteen, so she can choose not to live at Mariposa House if she doesn’t want to, but I hope she’ll want to.’
‘So do I.’ Zimmerman looked around the table. ‘Anyone have anything else? No? Then we all have assignments. Go. Be careful. Griffin, go back to the safe house and rest. Look at the videos, but sleep some too. I want you field-ready as soon as possible. Everyone back here at seventeen hundred, and keep each other in the loop.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Friday 14 August, 9.10 A.M.
Mallory had barely gotten to her room and closed the door when her knees gave out. She crawled to her bed and buried her face in the mattress. She knew he was probably watching. He loved to watch. Loved to bait her until she lost a little more of her mind and then he’d watch her fall apart. And he’d laugh.
Sick, twisted, perverted sonofabitch, she thought. Because thinking was the only thing she could do. Her mind was the only place he couldn’t see. So she escaped inside her mind and cowered there, shaking like a leaf on the outside, crying on the inside.
He knows. But how could he? She hadn’t said a word. No, it was the way she’d spurned him last night, going into her mind when he started to touch her. Everything he’d done this morning – the list, the picture of Macy, the matched luggage that was heavy and made squishy noises? That was him playing head games. He was trying to make her lose her mind, because he could.
She drew a measured breath, held it for several seconds, then let it out, then did it again and again until her lungs weren’t working double overtime. She imagined a pretty meadow with a little creek that made sweet noises as it washed over rocks and sticks. She imagined a deer, calmly eating grass. She imagined a field of flowers, swaying in the breeze.
Until she was calm on the inside too. Until she could think.
He was going to show them films tomorrow. He’d sped up his normal timetable. She’d thought she’d have weeks and weeks. But not if he’d moved them to films already. She knew he planned pool play. She’d washed and folded the swimsuits herself.
She needed to contact that operator at the police station. Lilith had been her name. She said she’d find the lady cop who’d saved Mallory from the man last Saturday.
But he’d stymied her plans. There was no pay phone at the Kroger across from the Home Store on Eastgate. She knew this for a fact. What am I going to do?
She honestly didn’t know. So figure it out. Maybe she could ask someone to borrow their phone. Because that ended so well last time, didn’t it?
Shut up. Sarcasm is not helping. But it was true. It had been five years ago, but she remembered it like it was yesterday. He’d broken her that day. He’d let her know there was nowhere to turn.
The woman whose phone she’d borrowed had listened as she’d called the police, as she’d reported him. The woman’s face had been both compassionate and horrified. She believed me. For a little while someone believed me. Someone had believed that she lived with a monster who made her do . . . things. Sexual things that she didn’t want to do.
The police had actually shown up at his old house. The one he’d later sold because they knew his address. They’d come to the old house and questioned him.
And he’d been so mad. So very mad. Not to the police. Oh no. To the police he showed his pretty face. His worried face. His compassionate, aren’t-I-a-nice-guy face. And then he’d shown them her medical records – all fabricated by him. He showed them pictures of her looking crazy and strung out – stills from the video he’d made of her portraying that same character: a crazy, strung-out addict. All makeup. All disguises. All lies.
But so damn believable. He looked so sincere. He talked so intelligently. He helped so many people. Everyone who knew him loved him. She didn’t even blame the police for backing away, begging his pardon for bothering him.
She’d been ready to die that day. The only thing that stopped him from beating her was the fact that he’d already sold a video of her that he hadn’t yet made. He didn’t want marks or bruises to show up in the cut. Instead, he’d doped her up and then he’d done what he’d threatened from the very first day.
He’d gone after Macy. He’d sent one of his addicts to his sister and brother-in-law’s home, had him wave a gun in their faces. The addict had even shot at Macy’s mother before Macy’s father had shot the addict dead.
So close, he’d crooned in Mallory’s ear later. Macy had come so close to being an orphan, and who would get custody? Him. So Mallory better not tell anyone ever again. And she hadn’t. She’d toed the line.
Until today. Because he was going to do to those kids what he’d done to her. He was going to steal their childhoods. Suck out their souls. Leave them used and empty and hurting and hating life. And then he’d sell them. Or maybe kill them. I can’t let that happen.
All right. So now she knew what she was going to do. She was going to find a way to call that lady cop. She was going to tell her everything.
Now she just had to figure out how.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Friday 14 August, 9.10 A.M.
Cup of coffee in hand, he went to his home office, sitting down in front of the giant computer monitor that displayed all the cameras in his properties. It allowed him to monitor security at this house, the office downtown, the house where he and McCord had located their studio, as well as his sisters’ homes. Neither of them knew he was watching them and he didn’t intrude on their privacy often, but he kept watch over Macy because . . . well, there was a reason his younger sister, Gemma, had not been able to adopt through traditional means. She was batshit crazy.
He didn’t want Macy harmed. Gemma wasn’t violent, but she was incredibly self-centered and sometimes left Macy by herself for ‘just a few minutes’ while she had her hair or nails done.
It wouldn’t do for Macy to tell anyone about her mother’s neglect. The state would take the child away, for one, and he was waiting for her to grow up a little more. They’d also investigate her parents, and there would be media because his brother-in-law had progressed nicely through the ranks of CPD over the years. He wanted his brother-in-law to stay put. He was valuable exactly where he was. He’s scratched my back, I’ve scratched his.
But the main concern if the state took Macy away would be their investigation into her adoption and their discovery that it wasn’t quite cricket. Which would lead them straight to me.
So he protected Macy as best he could by watching her. It was no hardship. She was a beautiful child. Maybe even more beautiful than Mallory.
Who was walking into her bedroom at the moment on shaky legs that collapsed as soon as she got to her bed, a frilly, lacy concoction that any little girl would absolutely love. As Mallory had. At first.
But lately . . . the girl’s behavior was starting to worry him. He’d allowed her too much freedom, he decided. He’d shaken her up today, though. He sipped his coffee with a smile, watching her slump to the floor, defeated.
He was so happy Mallory’s mother had had two daughters. Macy was Mallory’s kryptonite.
Mallory rested her cheek on her bed, her expression devastated. He waited for the tears. She didn’t always cry, but when she did, her emotions were really spectacular to watch.
But the tears didn’t come. Instead, she went very still. Too still.
She’s thinking. Again. Dammit. It was time to rein the girl in. He picked up his phone and dialed his younger sister’s number. It went to voicemail.
Like she’s too busy to answer, he thought with a mental snort. Gemma
was a professional loafer. He tapped a few keys on his keyboard to bring up the cameras in her house, tabbing from room to room until he found her in the guest bathroom, peering at her reflection in the mirror, stretching the skin on her face so that her wrinkles disappeared.
His baby sister had wrinkles. We’re getting old.
It was a jolting notion. He didn’t feel old. As the Professor, he looked old and his customers treated him with deferential respect. But that was mostly because he sold them primo shit, not because they respected their elders. But as himself? As Brandon? He wasn’t old. Not yet.
Still, he barely stopped himself from touching his own face to feel if he had wrinkles. He knew he did not, because he took care of himself. Exercised. Ate right. Flossed.
Hell, he was in his prime. Master of his destiny. Master of all he surveyed.
And right now he was surveying a split monitor, one side showing Mallory sitting too still on the floor next to her bed. Planning something. On the other side of the screen, his sister paused, cocked her head as if listening for something, then slowly went down on one knee and pulled a bag of feminine hygiene products from the vanity under the bathroom sink.
If Gemma hadn’t been moving with such quiet deliberation, he’d be turning the camera off now, because watching his sisters with feminine hygiene products was too gross, even for him. But Gemma was up to something, so he kept watching. She rooted inside the plastic bag of pads, finally pulling out a much smaller bag with a designer logo. Again she cocked her head to listen, then she smiled and took out a mirror and a third, even smaller bag – filled with white powder.
Fuck. Gemma was using. As if that was going to make her any saner. Not. He called her cell phone again, satisfied when she jumped at the ringtone, dropping her mirror into the sink with a clatter. It didn’t break, but she shoved everything back into the designer bag and then back into the bag of pads before answering the phone.
‘Brandon!’ she answered with false brightness. Into the mirror she scowled and mouthed fucker. ‘What can I do for you?’
