Trix

by Kate Morris

  “Er…um,” the interviewer with the fake tan stuttered.

  Lorena was supposed to take more questions from Melanie about Hailee, describing her in a romanticized way so that her captor would feel pity for her, so that it would humanize her to him. Lorena had news for the FBI, Trix didn’t feel pity for anyone. He was a serial. Hailee was just one more in the long list of women he’d murder before he was finished. He was incapable of feeling empathy or emotion of any kind. Talking up Hailee would only piss him off that they would think so lowly of him.

  He didn’t make mistakes. He didn’t leave fingerprints, witnesses or forensic evidence. He was old enough, experienced enough to get away with this and so many other murders. She had to make a connection with him. It seemed to Lorena the only way they’d eventually crack this.

  Lorena continued, “This man will be caught. Nobody is above the law, or my investigative abilities. He wants to talk, and so do I. We should talk. I also have a favorite brand of breakfast cereal that I’d like to tell you about,” she said, looking directly into the camera. She was taking a chance that he’d understand she meant nightmares, not actual cereal. “My phone number is….”

  She finished, giving her personal cell phone number, not something that was in the script at all. It was a risk, but she could always get another phone. If he called it, she’d be able to run a trace. He was arrogant, cocky, confident he’d never get caught. She wanted him to take the bait.

  “And wrap it, Melanie,” the producer said, to which she complied, taking them out to a commercial after flashing the phone number again for the tip line.

  “What the fuck?” Melanie shouted the second the cameras cut. “You weren’t supposed to say any of that!”

  Lorena quietly stood and unhooked her mic pack and earpiece. “Thanks,” she replied and left the stage to the other woman’s rants.

  When she got over to Jack, he was smiling, and Craig was frowning and taking a call.

  “Why does everyone think you’re so bad at this?” he joked and patted her shoulder blade roughly. “You’re great at it!”

  “Shut it,” she warned.

  He chuckled and said, “Actually, that was smart. It probably pissed him off. He knew you were off-script.”

  “You think so?”

  “Hell, yeah. Melanie’s head was about to explode. She was mad as a hornet, a really tan hornet, of course.”

  This made Lorena chuff through her nose as the three of them went to their vehicle. Craig was still on the phone obviously trying to calm down his superiors by the sounds of it.

  “But I think you did really well,” Jack continued as he hit the button on the car remote to unlock it. “If he doesn’t reach out to you after that, I’d be shocked.”

  Craig finally hung up after about ten minutes. By then, they were almost to his car where they’d met up with him earlier to go to the news station together.

  “Damn it, Lorena!” he cursed.

  “Sorry, Craig,” she apologized. “I didn’t think what you guys had written was gonna get the job done. You can’t appeal to this man’s softer side. He doesn’t have one. He’s a serial killer, not a child kidnapper. He isn’t just a sexual predator. He kills women. Men like this aren’t capable of compassion. You know this.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said. “I’ve gotta get down to headquarters and make sure your phone’s set up for a trace. If he calls, we’ll be ready, at least.”

  “Yeah,” she said with empathy for her friend. “Sorry again. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.

  “It’s cool. The Director’s pretty much okay with anything you do. It was just my supervisor that was riding my ass. I got it all worked out. Call me after you guys talk to Neumann’s wife again.”

  He departed their SUV and got into his sedan. Lorena felt terrible as she watched him speed away.

  “Don’t get too upset over it, Evans,” Jack said, pulling back out onto the road again.

  “He’s my friend. I don’t want him to get fired because of me,” she lamented.

  “I doubt he’d care.”

  “What? Of course, he would care. Why would you even say that?” Lorena asked with confusion as the rain pelted the windshield. Again.

  “Ferguson likes you. He’d bite that bullet if he had to. As long as you went out with him, of course.”

  “What? Get real. We’re just friends.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said. “That’s just what you think. Craig’s got a different picture of the two of you in his head.”

  “No, he doesn’t. He’s my friend. That’s all. We’re just colleagues. He helps me; I help him. Just work stuff, Foster.”

  “Whatever you say, chief,” he said arrogantly.

  Lorena wanted to slug him. He was irritating her with his confident opinions as if they were the only ones that were right.

  “Where are we meeting your ex?” she asked angrily.

  “Restaurant,” he said. “She didn’t want us to come to the house.”

  “Why? Her husband?”

  “I’m guessing as much,” Jack agreed.

  Lorena stuck her earbuds in and went back to studying their case. Jack’s words about Craig bothered her. He didn’t like her like that, did he? He never acted strangely around her as if he were attracted. He was always professional.

  The sun was fully set, and the roads a slick and shiny black with fresh rain. Lorena removed her blazer and leaned over into the back seat to grab her coat. She pulled on her black leather coat with the warmer lining to ward off the chill in the air and was thankful she found it in the bottom of the box that Jack packed from her house. She removed her earbuds and stowed the file in her bag. She had to step away from it for a second. She needed a run or a workout. Her brain was fried from lack of sleep and slogging through the case files for hours on end and coming up with nothing.

  “Want the heat on?” he asked.

  “Thanks,” she replied. “Coming from Florida, this feels like Alaska.”

  “Pretty close to it.”

  “I can’t believe you lived here,” she remarked.

  “We live in Cleveland!” he said with a chuckle. “That’s supposed to be warmer?”

  “Our snow doesn’t feel this drenching, though. It sticks to the ground, not me. It’s never not wet and raining here. I don’t feel like I’ve been dry for more than ten minutes since I got off the plane.”

  “The views are pretty sweet, though, especially the mountains. You gotta admit.”

  This made her think of Mr. Chambers’s residence up north. “That guy today. I got a vibe from him, but I don’t think he’s Trix. He was amateur sleuthing us, but he didn’t seem like much of a killer.”

  “He had the opportunity but not the motive,” Jack agreed.

  She nodded as he pulled curbside and parked them in front of Paddy’s, a two-story building with beautiful architecture in a busy district of the city.

  “She’ll be here soon,” he announced. “Let’s go in and get our table.”

  Lorena followed but could’ve found the place by the smells alone. It was rather aromatic and inviting. As soon as they entered, they were shown to a table in the back, past the semi-drawn draperies in the “Oldest Irish Pub in Portland” according to the sign. Someone somewhere in the restaurant was playing the violin, and the place was packed. They walked past the long bar to get to their private table, one that Jack must’ve reserved, or his ex.

  He ordered himself a Guinness, Lorena ordered an iced-tea, and he ordered a white wine spritzer for his ex. It bothered her that he knew she’d want that to drink. He also ordered them an appetizer of deviled scotch eggs, which she had never heard of before.

  “You’ve got Papacostas’s place; I’ve got Paddy’s,” he informed her once the waitress left.

  “You’ve been here before I take it?”

  “Oh, yes. Best food in town,” he said.

  “And you’re Irish, so this would’ve been like comfort food from home for you probably,” she
speculated.

  “You got it,” he said. “Except no sisters, so it was a lot more peaceful.”

  “You love them, Foster. Admit it. You’d be lost without them telling you what to do all the time.”

  “Strangely enough, that’s what they think, too,” he said.

  “How’s your mom doing?” Lorena asked, worried about Francesca. She could see how sad Jack’s mother was since she’d only recently lost her husband. It was, according to Jack, the reason he’d taken a job in Cleveland and left Miami.

  “A little better. I think it’ll just take time,” he said. “They were married forty years, so she was with him more than half her life.”

  “That must be so hard for her.”

  “She said sometimes she still tries to tell him things, stuff, you know, about one of us kids or something. It’s a habit. She’s always had him around to bounce things off of. It’s hard for her. She’s not independent like you. She relied on my dad for everything.”

  “I’m not that independent,” Lorena admitted. “I just don’t have a choice.”

  “You do,” Jack said and sipped his beer. “You could date, you know. You don’t have to cloister away like a nun.”

  “What was your dad like?” she asked, deflecting his comments about her love life.

  He sighed Jack removed his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. It drew an appreciative glance from their server, a redhead in her late twenties. He seemed oblivious. He wore a slim fitting black t-shirt that showed off his physique. He also seemed oblivious of this since he kept on talking, “He was a hard worker, too hard. His whole life was out at the mill. He worked doubles, nights, weekends, holidays just to put food on the table and provide us with what we needed.”

  She already knew his father worked for nearly four decades at a steel mill in Cleveland, quite possibly one of the worst jobs on the planet, in Lorena’s opinion. She’d had to visit one to question a suspect in a homicide case once. It was like walking into the bowels of hell itself. It was filthy, dirty to the core, hot and miserable. It gave her a more profound respect for the men and few women who worked such jobs in America.

  “It’s probably why you have such a strong work ethic.”

  “Not even close. If I worked as hard as him, I’d be working on my first heart attack already.”

  “Is that how he died?” Lorena asked uncomfortably. She wasn’t used to talking so personally with Jack, but her brain needed to unplug from the case for a few minutes.

  “Yeah, heart attack. His third.”

  “Wow, I’m sorry.”

  His eyes drifted off to the side as if remembering his father.

  “Aislinn worries it’ll happen to her husband since he works at the mill, the same one as Dad.”

  “Your sister’s husband isn’t necessarily going to share the same fate as your father just because he works at the same company.”

  “I know. It’s irrational, but she still worries. That’s why she rides his ass about eating healthy and exercising with her at the gym.”

  “If anything, it’ll be Bree that kills him first from the stress of raising a teenage daughter. Trust me on that one.”

  Jack laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Jack’s ex-wife said, drawing their attention. “What’d I miss?”

  “Hello, Elizabeth,” Jack said and stood to greet her. His ex-wife was dressed as elegantly as she was the other day when they’d spoken with her. Her burgundy, body-hugging dress was sexy without looking trampy. Her sky-high gold stilettos coordinated just right. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a classy French twist. She pressed herself against Jack for a long hug that went on so long that he looked uncomfortable. Then she kissed his cheek very close to his mouth. Jack cleared his voice. He pulled out her chair and looked at Lorena with no small amount of discomfort.

  “So?” she repeated. “What’d I miss?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Jack told her. “We were just talking about my family.”

  The woman smiled. “Have you met all of Jack’s sisters yet? They are such a hoot.”

  Lorena nodded. “Yes, they are. I like them a lot, actually.”

  Her eyes darted to Jack’s. He didn’t seem too pleased.

  “White wine spritzer. You remembered, Jack,” she commented on her drink and took a sip.

  Lorena couldn’t help but stare at the enormous wedding set on her left hand. It must have been ten carats. She also wore large diamond studs in her ears.

  The waitress came back with their appetizer a second later and took their orders. Jack asked for corned beef and cabbage, while Lorena ordered fish and chips. His ex-wife ordered a side salad. No wonder she stayed so slim and fit.

  “Elizabeth, we need to talk about that charity event you hosted about a month ago,” he said. “Lorena, have an egg. These are great. You’ll love them. They’re fried.”

  Lorena smiled and served herself one on an appetizer plate. His ex passed on the offering and sipped at her beverage instead.

  “I know. I brought the list of guests with me,” she said and pulled a slip of paper from her Louis Vuitton bag.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Do you know which one of these men might’ve been the one who hit on Hailee?”

  “I’m not sure, but I circled two that it could’ve been.”

  Lorena wanted to ask her why she had those kinds of men around her step-daughter in the first place. She obviously already had doubts about the sort of men they were if she was able to finger two out of the group who could’ve been perverts. Instead, she ate her deviled scotch egg, which was a hard-boiled egg pocketed inside of sausage, coated, and deep fried, served with a dipping sauce. It was rather good.

  “Who are these men?” Jack asked. “Harvey Phillips and Valentino Moreti?”

  “Both art dealers. They both specialize in art importing. Harvey handles mostly sculptures, and Valentino brings in paintings, rare ones from Italy.”

  Lorena studied Elizabeth, noting her heavy hand at makeup application. She was pretty enough, certainly didn’t need to wear such dramatic, thick makeup.

  “Yeah, I guessed that part,” Jack said sarcastically, drawing conclusions from the man’s very obviously Italian name.

  “They both deal art to galleries around the world, not just here in tiny Portland. Harvey just came from Rome when he attended my charity dinner.”

  “Was it held at your house?” Lorena asked, capturing the attention of Jack’s ex. The woman studied her a long moment before answering.

  “Yes, it was. I had a cocktail party with a formal dinner served out on the veranda.”

  “In the middle of winter?” Lorena questioned as their food arrived. It all looked great, except for Elizabeth’s salad, of course.

  She gave Lorena a look of judgmental contempt before answering, “We hired a company to handle it. I didn’t exactly go into the kitchen and cook for two hundred people. Heated tents, chandeliers, catering, Miss…”

  “Evans,” Jack answered for her. “Her name’s Detective Evans. Lorena if you’re nice.”

  “Right, Miss Evans,” Elizabeth said.

  Lorena didn’t miss the fact that the woman left off her detective title. She could tell the woman didn’t like her, but she wasn’t sure what she’d done to upset her or if she was just always bitchy.

  Elizabeth continued, “There was a heated tent, hors-d’oeuvres, of course, cocktails, and a dinner. It was all stunningly beautiful.”

  “Sounds like it was right up your alley, Liz,” he commented with barely concealed disdain.

  “You know I just want to make the world beautiful with art, Jack,” she said wistfully and touched his wrist.

  “And Victor has the money to help you with that endeavor,” he said.

  “How late did the party go on until?” Lorena asked, diverting their brewing marital spat.

  Elizabeth poked her fork around in the lettuce on her plate but didn’t eat any of it.

  “Until…around midnight, I suppo
se. We had music and champagne,” she answered.

  The woman knew her way around alcohol. Her white wine spritzer was nearly gone, but her food was still all there.

  “It was lovely.”

  “Did you actually see anyone bothering Hailee?” Lorena asked since Jack seemed content to sit there and give his ex-wife a look of loathing.

  “No, not that I recall,” she said.

  Lorena didn’t believe her. She finished her meal and pushed her plate aside, whipping out her notepad instead. This woman was hiding something or a lot.

  “So, you didn’t see Hailee being harassed by someone or bothered by a man at your party, but you brought us a list of two people who might have done it?”

  “No, I only brought a list of the guests and circled two men who could’ve possibly done something like that.”

  Lorena frowned. Wasn’t that the same thing? Either this woman was hiding something, or she really didn’t care if they found her step-daughter. She wished she would’ve asked Skylar and the boyfriend more about Elizabeth and her relationship with her step-daughter. They’d probably knew. Kids complained about things like that to their friends and boyfriends.

  “What do you know about them? Are they friends of Victor’s?” Jack finally asked, joining the discussion again.

  She paused, and Lorena could tell that she wasn’t comfortable talking about this, either.

  “I don’t know, Jack. I think if you want to talk to them, then you should. I don’t know how involved I should get in this.”

  He scowled at her and retorted, “Damn it, Liz. Hailee’s missing, for God’s sake. Don’t you want to help us find her?”

  “Yes, of course, but if Victor finds out…”

  “What? What’s he going to do? He should’ve just talked with the agent that called him about this list. Instead, we got the blow off.”

  “But Victor hired a private investigator. I’m assuming he’s having him look into these men, too.”

  “That’s interfering with a police investigation, no, an FBI investigation. Even worse. You were married to me for almost four years, all during which I worked as a cop. You should know better. You should’ve explained it to that jackass that what he was doing was just interfering with our investigation.”