All His Pretty Girls

by All His Pretty Girls (retail) (epub)

  As soon as they pulled into the parking lot of MCM, Alyssa received a text from Isaac.

  Going to Trevor’s after school to play video games. That cool?

  She found a place to park and then replied.

  Yes, but let your dad know, and be home for dinner.

  Even as she typed it, she recognized the irony in demanding her fourteen-year-old son be home for dinner when more than half the time, she herself struggled to make it.

  Cord waited until she was finished and had placed her phone in her pocket. ‘Everything okay?’ he asked.

  ‘Yep, just Isaac checking in,’ she said.

  ‘Let’s do this then,’ he said as he got out of the vehicle and headed for the entrance.

  Inside, she and Cord approached the front desk where a brass name plate indicated that the woman behind the counter was Aubrey Brown, Customer Service Specialist. They waited as she ended her call and typed something into her computer. Finished, she smiled at the detectives. ‘Sorry about that. Thanks for waiting. Welcome to MCM. How can I help you two today?’

  ‘Detectives Wyatt and Roberts with the Albuquerque Police Department. I believe Mark’s expecting us,’ Alyssa said.

  ‘Of course. Let me grab him for you.’ Aubrey pushed back from the computer and jumped up, teetering a little on her high heels before she caught her balance. Alyssa barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. High heels might make a woman’s legs look sexy, but in her opinion, they were highly overrated.

  Leaving behind a wave of perfume that assaulted the senses and nearly made Alyssa’s eyes water, the receptionist disappeared into the garage area.

  A few minutes later, Aubrey reappeared with a middle-aged, well-dressed man sporting a haircut that seemed more suited to a teenager. As he approached, he held out his hand to shake theirs and introduced himself. ‘Mark Jacobs. I’m the service department manager. Why don’t you two follow me so we can chat with a little more privacy?’

  Without waiting for a response, the manager turned and headed back the way he’d come, leading the detectives through the garage area before ushering them into his office. ‘Please, have a seat,’ he said waving his arm.

  Definitely someone who was used to being in charge, Alyssa thought as the man grabbed a file from his desk and opened it. More often than not, they had to ease people’s natural fear of speaking to the police before they could get down to business, so she appreciated being able to get right to it without first filling the space with idle chitchat.

  ‘Okay, after Officer Roe called, I had Aubrey check yesterday’s invoices.’ Mark ran his finger over the page in front of him, nodding as he did, and then glanced back up. ‘Like I told the officer on the phone, it appears Mrs. McCormick was here approximately ninety minutes, and in that time, there were only a few other customers.’ He closed the file and pushed it over to the detectives and added, ‘Aubrey said she specifically remembered Mrs. McCormick because it was a slow morning, and when Mrs. McCormick arrived, she was the only one in the waiting area until another customer came in and started up a conversation with her. Said that Mrs. McCormick appeared friendly, but it was somewhat obvious she didn’t really want to engage with the man. Said she kind of felt bad for her.’ He reached out a finger and tapped the file. ‘Figured you might want to speak to him – Mearl Leroy is his name – so I had Aubrey print out his phone number and address for you.’

  ‘We would like to speak to him – and anyone else here during those same ninety minutes, including anyone working yesterday,’ Alyssa said.

  ‘Already in there, too,’ Mark said. ‘In fact, anyone who was working yesterday is here today, and I’ve already put them on notice that you might be needing to ask them a few questions. Told them they were to stop whatever they were doing in order to assist.’

  Appreciating the manager’s take-charge attitude, Alyssa opened the manila folder. A copy of Callie’s invoice sat on top, and a quick peek at the time stamp confirmed when she’d arrived and when she left. She situated the file so Cord could see it, too. ‘Appreciate you having this ready for us,’ she said.

  ‘No problem. Anything to help.’ Mark shifted his gaze back and forth between Alyssa and Cord and said, ‘Now, Officer Roe mentioned you wanted to have a look at our surveillance videos?’

  ‘Yes. We can get a search warrant here, if it’ll help,’ Cord said.

  Alyssa really hoped the manager wouldn’t require one because she didn’t want to wait if they didn’t have to.

  ‘Not necessary. Already spoke with the owner, and he said to cooperate any way we could. In fact, I’ve already loaded the records, so if you’ll move over here, I can get out of your way.’

  Alyssa was grateful for the owner’s willingness to accommodate them and wished everyone they interviewed would be this cooperative.

  ‘I’ve forwarded the video to about five minutes before Mrs. McCormick came in, but if you need to go back further, just hit this button here,’ Mark leaned over and pointed to the keyboard. ‘And if you need to pause or forward, it’s these two buttons. I’m going to step out now, but if you need me for any reason, just use my phone there and call the front desk. Aubrey’s extension is hashtag one.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Cord said. He waited until Mark closed the door behind himself before he reached over and tapped play.

  Happy to let him navigate, Alyssa scooted her chair in closer. ‘Think they have popcorn here?’ she joked. Video surveillance footage was virtually guaranteed to be dry and boring, and it was one of her least favorite aspects of investigating, but it was a necessary evil in her line of work. And this, at least, was only a couple of hours’ worth.

  Cord laughed even as his eyes stayed fixed on the screen. Within five minutes, Callie could be seen entering the waiting area, just as Mark had said. She approached the desk and, after checking in and handing over her keys, walked directly over to the coffee pot where she poured herself a cup and tested it.

  A woman after her own heart, Alyssa thought and watched as Callie then picked up a magazine, shook her head, and set it back down before finally settling into a seat near the front window. As she observed Callie McCormick, she was struck by how attractive she was. And though Terrie Mitchell had said her friend and neighbor had gained a little weight, to Alyssa’s eyes, she looked, well, normal.

  It was as if Cord read her mind. ‘Well, she’s not a stick figure, but certainly no need to start looking into the latest fad diet,’ he remarked.

  ‘Just had that same thought myself.’

  Every once in a while, either Alyssa or her partner would comment on something in the video, but so far, all they could truly say was that Callie McCormick seemed content to sit and read. In fact, it wasn’t until Mr. Leroy, a wizened old man in scuffed blue jeans, walked in and chose the seat right next to her that either detective caught a glimpse of any show of personality at all.

  Mrs. McCormick was irritated. And Alyssa didn’t blame her one bit. Why would the man choose to sit practically on top of her when there were so many open chairs?

  ‘Odd. Most people tend to search for the space farthest away from other individuals,’ Cord observed as he studied Mearl Leroy.

  ‘Right. Which leads me to say: Mrs. McCormick’s much nicer than I would’ve been,’ Alyssa commented.

  Cord chuckled. ‘That’s probably true. But, remember, you’re the one who said it.’ A couple more minutes passed before he stopped the video once more, his head tilted to the side. ‘I can see why Mrs. Mitchell said you remind her of Callie. There is a slight resemblance, don’t you think? I mean, it might be more obvious if your hair was still blonde.’

  Trying to be objective, Alyssa mimicked her partner, and cocked her head first to one side, then the other as she studied the woman onscreen. Except for the shape of their faces – what people described as heart-shaped – she didn’t really see a likeness. ‘She’s taller than me.’

  ‘That she is,’ he said, still staring at Callie McCormick.

  ‘
Hey!’ True or not, she didn’t need her partner to agree.

  Eyes wide, he swung his gaze her way, hands in the ‘I surrender’ position. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with your height,’ he amended, having learned the hard way that her size was no joking matter.

  On his second day on the job, he’d called her shorty. Every cop within earshot had stopped what they were doing, and in a move that looked like a choreographed dance, stepped away from him. Astute detective that he was, he’d picked up on his mistake instantly. And spent the next week trying to make up for it, finally succeeding when he brought in a package of some of the most expensive Guatemalan coffee he could find and placed it in front of her.

  ‘Still,’ Cord said now, steering away from the dangerous topic of height, ‘I can’t place my finger on it yet, but there’s definitely something about Callie McCormick that makes me think of you.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Alyssa allowed before she reached around her partner to hit play. Distracted by Cord’s observation, she found herself studying the missing woman’s features more than paying attention to the interaction between Callie and the man sitting beside her, thus requiring her to rewind the video several times before she finally muttered, ‘This is ridiculous. There’s nothing to see.’

  ‘Too bad there’s no audio here,’ Cord said. ‘I’d like to know what they’re talking about.’

  ‘No kidding,’ Alyssa agreed. ‘Appears to be more of a monologue than a dialogue, though.’

  ‘Ain’t that the truth,’ her partner said, nodding. ‘Our girl doesn’t seem to be offering much to this conversation, does she? All I see is the man’s mouth constantly moving.’

  ‘He’s certainly excited about whatever he’s on about, if his flailing arms are anything to go by,’ Alyssa said.

  A short time later, two older gentlemen and a younger well-dressed man entered the frame. The two elderly men – Mervin Wallace and Hunter Jenkins, according to the file – paused briefly before choosing seats closest to the flat-screen mounted on the wall. The third man – Larry Wilkins – grabbed a magazine and sat where he had a clear view of the front desk, as well as the entire lobby.

  The tedious monotony of staring at the screen was getting to her, but Alyssa forced herself to pay close attention. ‘I could really go for some coffee right now,’ she muttered. From the corner of her eye, she saw the phone sitting on Mark’s desk. Aubrey was #1.

  And then as if she’d conjured her up, the receptionist was pushing open the door. She seemed startled to see the detectives still there. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Um, Mark sent me up to see if you two needed anything. Coffee? Water? Soda?’

  Whatever reason Aubrey had for being in her boss’s office, it wasn’t to offer them refreshments, Alyssa thought. But it was a quick recovery, and frankly, she didn’t care. She’d even forgive her for infecting the small office space with that overwhelming scent of perfume – did the woman bathe in it?

  ‘I’d love a coffee, please. Black.’ Her stomach rumbled out a sound that Alyssa swore was a thank you.

  Aubrey bobbed her head up and down. ‘Detective Roberts? Anything?’

  ‘I’d love a bottled water, if you have some available.’

  ‘We do. I’ll be right back. So sorry for the interruption,’ she said as she backed out the door.

  ‘Apology unnecessary,’ Alyssa assured the woman.

  Less than two minutes later, Aubrey was back. She set the drinks down and left without a word.

  Alyssa handed Cord his water and snatched up the coffee, taking a drink before setting her eyes back on the screen. ‘Other than Mr. Leroy, no one seems to be giving our missing woman more than a passing glance,’ she said now.

  After guzzling half his water, Cord aimed one finger at the video. ‘I hope when I’m that age, I still look that fit. If I hadn’t seen his face, I’d have thought that body belonged on a much younger man.’

  ‘Hmm,’ was all Alyssa said as she stretched her arm across her partner’s chest so she could grab the file sitting there.

  Finally, ninety-four minutes into the recording, Callie McCormick looked up at the receptionist, gathered her belongings and stood, relief evident on her face. Mr. Leroy jumped up, as well, and shook her hand. Then he watched as she approached the desk, signed something, folded some papers, exchanged a few words with the technician who’d entered the waiting area, and turned to go.

  One last wave to Mearl Leroy, and she was gone.

  One hour and thirty-seven minutes later, after Wallace, Jenkins, and Wilkins had all left the shop, Cord hit pause. ‘What do you think?’

  Alyssa rubbed her temples and twisted the kinks out of her neck. ‘I think we have a chat with the mechanics on duty yesterday.’

  File in hand, Alyssa jabbed at the first name on the list. ‘You want to go grab him, or shall I?’

  Cord was already heading out the door when she yelled, ‘Oh, while you’re at it, do you mind grabbing me another coffee?’ Her partner’s answer was to shake his head in disbelief. As long as he returned with her drink of choice, he could do whatever he wanted.

  Chapter Nine

  Monday, March 25, 6:30p.m.

  Evan Bishop was upstairs in his kitchen, whistling while the evening news played in the background, replaying today’s events back in his mind. Even though he hadn’t gone to MCM with the intention of taking anyone, he had donned his disguise before leaving the house, always prepared in case he discovered The One. The last two he’d chosen had been sorely disappointing, disgusting him in their unceasing whimpering and lies. His patience for training them was in short supply, and so he’d had to get rid of them far sooner than he’d planned – which was probably why, in the last couple of weeks, that familiar desire to find the real one had resurfaced, eating at his mind with such ferocity, at times it almost drove him mad.

  Then he’d seen her. And a flash of a memory struggled for a stronghold in his mind, but as quickly as it had come, it disappeared. These flashes had been occurring with more frequency, and he’d come to view them as a sign.

  As he had watched her, every flip of her blonde hair, every time she blew her bangs off her forehead, had made him more certain that he had to have her. But it was when she laughed that the unmistakable itch between his shoulders really began to burn, and he knew if he didn’t scratch it, it would only grow hotter until he did. It was just her bad luck that she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  When a technician addressed her by name, he repeated it quietly. Callie McCormick. He liked how it rolled smoothly around in his mind. Obtaining her address had been a stroke of luck, a little bit of genius, and a matter of process of elimination.

  After she’d left, he’d had to fight the battle warring within: impatience gnawing at him to follow versus the logic that dictated he needed to behave normally. While he waited, he filled his mind with fantasies of how she was the one. When the mechanics finally finished, he forced himself to make small talk with the technician who handed him his keys, to smile at the dim-witted receptionist behind the counter, and above all, to obey the speed limit on his way home – getting pulled over would only cause further delay. But the second he pulled into his driveway, he locked the car, sprinted into his house and grabbed a small kit that held everything he needed, and then ran to catch the bus that would drop him off near Callie’s house.

  Getting her to open the door had been ridiculously easy. Keeping himself from lunging at her had been hard. But he was patient. Many of the women he’d taken over the years had an aversion to appearing inhospitable, even if it meant endangering their own safety, and making them so much more vulnerable.

  The woman downstairs was no different. He’d recognized the look on her face as she considered whether or not he was dangerous. And when he’d smiled, it was because he’d been thinking, Yes, yes, I am.

  Women could be so stupid sometimes. It made that moment when they realized they’d made a monumental mistake that much sweeter. And Callie McCormick had not disappo
inted. The gamut of emotions that played across her face when he’d forced his way in – the shock, the terror, the confusion, the tears, and finally, the resignation – had fed the hunger surging inside him.

  And as she opened the hatch of her vehicle, he’d plunged the drugged needle into her neck and tossed her inside, securing her hands and feet before covering her mouth with duct tape.

  Snapped back to the present by the sound of moaning and movement coming from his basement, he cocked his head to listen. The sedative must finally be wearing off. He’d probably given her more than he should’ve, but he couldn’t risk having her wake before he got her here – that had happened with the last woman, and he learned from his mistakes.

  Unfortunately, that meant he’d had to carry her, and unconscious, she was dead weight.

  Inside, he’d ripped the duct tape from her hands and feet, replacing it with manacles he’d purchased online. He removed skin when he tore the tape from her mouth. That would smart when she woke. He smiled. Sometimes it was the little things.

  Now, the moaning grew louder, so he picked up the soup he’d made and walked toward the basement. Never let it be said he wasn’t a gracious host.

  Chapter Ten

  Tuesday, March 26, 3:00p.m.

  ‘It’s been almost twenty-four hours since Callie McCormick was first reported missing and twenty-eight since she left a message on her husband’s phone.’ Alyssa paced the front of the room as she addressed her team, all of them feeling the pressure to locate the missing woman.

  ‘Albuquerque can’t afford for this case to go national, Detectives.’ Captain Guthrie Hammond had intercepted them as soon as they’d entered the precinct this afternoon after leaving MCM. He was five foot eleven, but his muscular bulk and barrel chest made him appear larger and more intimidating, especially when standing in an already crowded space. ‘We’re still reeling from the Lucas Bloomfield case. And now that he’s been convicted, he’s going to be front and center on all the news stations again, which means so will our great city. Tourists are going to start thinking Albuquerque’s not a safe place to visit.’ He’d bored holes into them with his stare. ‘Get this wrapped up. Yesterday,’ he ordered as he turned around and stormed away.