If She Ran (Martina Monroe Book 2)

by H K Christie

  Jordan's hands shook on the table. He quickly moved them toward his lap, out of sight. "Look, yes. We told them to keep it a secret. I'm not proud of this, but I didn't have many clients back then. I was just starting out as a talent agent, and I needed them on my roster. I didn't have any work for them; therefore, I didn't have any income. How I made my money was from services my clients paid for. I took their headshots for a fee. It's not illegal. But, the photo shoots they didn't show up for were really a buddy of mine who was pretending to be a professional photographer to make the girls think I was legit."

  My blood was boiling. "So, you swindled these young women out of money, and then they disappeared?" I asked.

  "I don't know what happened to them. Yes, I was reprehensible. I took their money. I knew they wouldn't get any work. Look, I admit to being a creep, but I did nothing to those girls. I swear it."

  Fuming, I turned to Hirsch. "Do you know if the statute of limitations on fraud is up?"

  He nodded and said, "I'm afraid the statute is up, but there is no statute of limitations on kidnapping or murder."

  "Wow. I don't know anything about a kidnapping or murder," Jordan said.

  Hirsch said, "Accessory to either crime could mean serious jail time."

  I sat there, staring at Jordan, and I was glad I didn't have my weapon on me. This creep was why those girls went missing.

  Jordan's face turned beet red as he shook it back and forth. "I swear I had nothing to do with their disappearances."

  Hirsch stared him down. "I don't think that's true, but if you cooperate, maybe we can help you out. We need you to print the name and contact details of that buddy of yours who posed as photographer for the photo shoot. Besides the name of the photographer, include all your vendors, anyone who may have crossed paths with the girls as part of your business. I want you to write every single detail you have about your buddy and those women. If there're any others, write their names too."

  "Others?"

  "If there are any other clients of yours who did not show up for the photo shoot and you never heard from again. Write their names down." He paused and then spat, "Now."

  For a second I thought he was playing good cop, but he wasn't. Good.

  Jordan didn't speak, but he grabbed a pen from a mug on his desk and began writing on a legal pad.

  We sat back and watched as he scribbled on the paper. When Jordan was finished, he sat back and stared up at us like a deer in headlights. "That's it."

  "Where were you four years ago, June 12, July 7, and August 5?"

  "I will have to check my calendar. I swear I didn't do anything to those girls."

  "Check your calendar," Hirsch commanded.

  "We'll wait," I said with snark in my voice.

  He tapped on his computer, and I leaned over to see what he was doing. "It would be on your current work calendar?"

  "When they went missing, I had been interviewing here. That is why I moved shortly afterward. I first started interviewing in June and had a few trips to southern California after that. I know I was out of town for all the days that they went missing. I'm just looking for the exact dates to prove it."

  "Did you fly?"

  "Every time. I swear I did nothing to those girls," he said, without removing his attention from his computer monitor.

  I grabbed the yellow legal pad and read his notes. My mouth dropped open. There were others. I turned to Hirsch and pointed to the pad. I set the pad back down.

  Jordan faced me. "I emailed my boss's assistant. She is the one who made all the airline reservations back then. She should be able to provide exact dates."

  An alibi didn't equal innocence. "Tell us about the other girls. Daniela, Aria, and Iris."

  We sat back as Jordan told us a similar tale about the additional missing women. "And you're sure those are the only others?"

  "Those are the only others that were my clients that didn't show up. You can even ask my brother. He's the one who gave me all the referrals back then."

  Hirsch cleared his throat. I looked at him and nodded. "I'm afraid we have some bad news."

  I watched the color drain out of Jordan Day's face as we explained that his brother was dead.

  He shook his head. "But I just talked to him. He sounded okay. It couldn't have been an accident. We practically grew up on that mountain."

  "We're not convinced it was an accident either."

  "Suicide?"

  "We don't think it was suicide either."

  "It happened three days ago?" Jordan asked.

  "Yes."

  Jordan buried his face in his hands. He glanced back up at us. "I could be next."

  Without emotion, I said, "If he was silenced by whoever took those girls, then yes, you could be next." Even if what Jordan said was true and he had done nothing to the women, I knew with every fiber of my being that they were gone because of him and his brother. They’d handed the women off to some monster and now that someone was trying to quiet them.

  "Find a safe place to stay. You could be next."

  Jordan nodded.

  Jordan's eyes darted between the two of us. If he wasn't scared before, he was now.

  23

  Detective Hirsch

  Through the glass panel on Jordan Day's office door, I could see the receptionist heading our way with a piece of paper in her hand. She looked inside before knocking on the window. Jordan set his pen down and walked over to the door. "I have the travel dates that you requested. Let me know if there is anything else you need." She peered in at Martina and me as if curious to know what was going on.

  "Thanks, I'll let you know." He shut the door and returned to his seat behind his desk. He studied the paper from the receptionist and set it on top of his yellow legal pad. "Those are the dates of my travel. I'm sure your team can confirm them."

  "Excellent," I said.

  "Are we done here?" Jordan asked.

  I glanced over at Martina, who wore a devilish grin that she didn't seem to be trying to hide. "Not quite. Actually, not only are we here to ask you questions about the missing women, but we’re also concerned about your safety, seeing as your brother may have been killed. We'll be giving you an escort home, and we'll stay with you for the rest of the day."

  Jordan tried to protest. "But I have client meetings and an opening tonight."

  "I'm happy to sit in on the meetings and escort you to your opening. How about you, Martina? Are you available?"

  I turned to her. She was clearly relishing in Jordan's displeasure. "I can make myself available."

  "Or, Jordan, you can clear your schedule because we also brought a warrant for all your records and to search your house. I hope you have been honest with us so far."

  "Look, I'll cooperate. Let me clear my schedule and we can head over to the house."

  "Darn. I sure was looking forward to going to an opening," Martina said.

  Jordan waved us off as if annoyed with us.

  His past had finally caught up with him. It was unfortunate I couldn't book him for swindling young aspiring actresses out of money in order to further his own career, but we were likely to get him on accessory or something more serious, depending on what we discovered. He was as guilty as the sky was blue. I'd bet a month's salary he hadn't told us everything he knew. But what else? Had he kidnapped the women? Murdered them? Sold them into the dark world of human trafficking? However, if the women had been sold into trafficking, why would all the girls look the same? It sounded more like a predator's M.O. than a trafficker's.

  Jordan finished telling the receptionist to change his meetings and hung up the receiver. Martina took his pad of paper from his desk. She tore off the relevant pages with his notes and then placed the pad back on top of his desk.

  "Are you ready to go?"

  "Just about."

  "Where are you parked?"

  "In the garage."

  "Perfect."

  As Jordan gathered his belongings, I turned to Martina and spoke qu
ietly, out of Jordan's earshot. "I'll stay with him as you get the rental car. You can meet us in the garage and we'll follow him home."

  Martina nodded in agreement.

  I had the sinking feeling our new friend Jordan was not telling us everything he knew.

  Martina drove as I scanned through the notes that Jordan had written. "There's only five names listed for the vendors Jordan worked with in the Bay Area and only one name for the photographer. It’ll be a little tricky to track him down with only a first name."

  "No last name?" Martina asked.

  "Nope. I plan to question him more at the house. Perhaps with a little nudging, his memory will clear up. What is your gut feeling about this guy, Martina?"

  She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she stared ahead, keeping her eyes on Jordan, who drove along the highway in his silver Mercedes. "He's definitely lying, or at the very least, hiding something. He's awfully nervous. I think he knows who took those girls and who killed his brother."

  "You think he's a flight risk?" I asked.

  Martina shrugged halfheartedly. "Maybe. He seems to have done well for himself here in Los Angeles. He could flee to Mexico in a heartbeat. Without traffic, it's only a three-hour drive from here to the Mexican border."

  "True. We could get the local PD to lock him up and give him a place to stay for a little while until we get this figured out."

  Martina said, "That's probably not a bad idea, but chances are if we do that, he'll lawyer up."

  Martina was right. Chances were the last of our alone time with Jordan would be at his house and the clock was ticking. "Agreed. Let's push hard at the house and see what else we can get out of him."

  "Good idea."

  Martina pulled in front of Jordan's house and watched as he opened the garage door and slid his Mercedes inside. Martina and I exchanged a quick glance before hurrying out of the car. I didn't like the idea of having Jordan out of my sight, not even for a minute, considering I trusted him about as far as I could throw him.

  I jogged down the driveway and toward the front door, talking loudly. Within a moment, Jordan opened the door. "Hello again," I said. "Here's your warrant." And I handed him the packet of paper.

  He looked down at it. "Maybe I should call my lawyer?"

  A lawyer was the last thing we needed. "You may call your lawyer, but you're not under arrest. We're just trying to understand what happened to those women and right now you're our best lead."

  Martina added. "May we come in?"

  Jordan stepped back and fully opened the door.

  I entered the home and scanned the area. It wasn't as tidy as his brother's house. Clothes were thrown over the side of the dining chair, and a mug full of dark liquid sat on the coffee table. "Jordan, after reviewing your notes, I have a few follow-up questions."

  "Let me call my lawyer first and then we can talk."

  "Sure, whatever floats your boat, but know that once your lawyer gets here, I'm not sure what kind of deal we can cut for you."

  Jordan shook his head and mumbled, "Damn dirty cops," under his breath before walking toward the dining room.

  I stared at him quizzically. "Are you going to call? I can't help if you do. I mean, as it is, you're likely looking at accessory to kidnapping or murder. Not sure exactly what you're into, but I have a feeling you do and a deal could help your situation."

  Jordan stiffened, and his eyes widened. "I swear I didn't do anything to them."

  Martina stepped closer to him. Hands on hips, she declared, "But we think you know who did."

  She could definitely be scary when she wanted to be.

  Jordan, visibly shaken, wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

  I said, "Why don't we have a seat and we can ask you about these notes. I'd really hate for something bad to happen to you when there was something I could have done to help."

  Without a word, he went over to the dining table and sat down. I glanced at Martina and nodded toward the table.

  I could tell by the look in her eyes she was tired of this guy, and I wondered what she'd do if I wasn't here. Would she be as polite as she was right now, or would she let her emotions take over? I had a feeling her bite was every bit as bad as her bark. I had learned firsthand that Martina didn't like it when someone messed with an innocent and they didn't pay for it.

  Seated at the table, all eyes were on Jordan. "Let's start from the beginning. Six young women, all of whom were your clients, went missing. You didn't think that was strange and that maybe you should tell someone?" I asked.

  Jordan's eyes darted across the room as if he thought others were listening. Was he that paranoid? "I don't know. Maybe. I liked those girls, but there was no way they could get any real modeling jobs. They just didn't have the it factor, you know. I considered that maybe deep down they knew it, too, and ran away."

  "I'd like to believe what you're saying, but I think you know those girls didn't run away. You seem intelligent, and I think any person with half a brain would know it was far too coincidental."

  He sat stoically while Martina and I stared him down.

  "Did somebody pay you for these girls? Was that your real business—selling young women? Who did you sell them to?" Martina asked.

  Jordan stared at the floor, not saying a word.

  Whatever he was into, it was bad, and it wasn't tricking some young women out of a few hundred dollars for headshots. It was much bigger. "I think I should call my lawyer."

  "No one is stopping you, but you're not under arrest, not yet anyhow." I was going to enjoy slapping some cuffs on this guy.

  Martina pushed her chair back and strutted away from the table, going straight back through the house. I could hear the opening of drawers and doors. It sounded like she was tossing the place. The local officers who were coming to help search weren't planning to arrive for at least thirty minutes. I think she was mad he was remaining silent, and was very good at showing it.

  I focused on Jordan. "What do you think she'll find?"

  "She won't find anything."

  "Look, if you're just a little guy in this, we can cut a deal, but know this, if you're the big guy, we're going to take you down. And if you don't help us, we're going to take you down because we know that you're linked to the disappearance of those six women."

  His eyes met my stare. "You can't prove anything."

  "Oh, I'll prove it and Martina back there, she won't stop searching until she finds what she's looking for. Trust me, I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of her."

  "You don't know what you're up against," he said with a slight shake in his voice.

  "And what exactly are we up against?"

  Before he could answer, there was a crash from the back of the house. Martina yelled out, "Sorry, I accidentally knocked over a lamp. My bad."

  I don't think she was sorry.

  "Look, I questioned the guy about what was happening. The first girl that went missing I figured she was a flake and maybe she really did run away, but the second time I was suspicious and the third time I asked him about it."

  "You asked who about it?"

  "The guy."

  "What guy?"

  "Look, I'm not talking without my lawyer. He told me he's untouchable. He told me to stop asking questions and do what he asked. After Layla, I changed my number and moved."

  I thought it was best Martina wasn't hearing this firsthand. I thought she might've throttled him. I understood the urge. This guy was a piece of trash. "So, you just handed off these women, because he said he was untouchable."

  He glanced toward his backyard. I turned around and tried to figure out where his attention had gone. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

  "Why were you afraid of him?"

  "I can't say. I just was. I went back to using my real last name and got out of town out as precaution in case he tried to contact me again."

  He picked up his phone from the table and punched the buttons before holding it up to hi
s ear. "This is Jordan Day calling for Sam Honey, it's urgent."

  "Who are you calling?"

  "My lawyer."

  I called out to Martina.

  Martina reappeared, and I walked over to her in the living room without taking my eyes off Jordan as he called his lawyer. "He's on the phone with his lawyer right now. He just told me he knows exactly who it was who took the women, but he won't give me a name. He says the person is untouchable. I think he willingly sent girls to the guy knowing that they were going to disappear."

  "What do you mean?"

  I explained. "Well, he said he got suspicious after the first and second, but by the third time he questioned the perp, the guy threatened him."

  "Do you think he moved away because of the perp?"

  "He was under somebody's thumb."

  "He won't say who?" Martina asked.

  "Nope. He says he's not saying another word without his lawyer."

  "We can arrest him right now, right? I mean, it sounds like he knowingly supplied women? That's trafficking. I'm surprised he told you that much."

  "I think he's scared."

  "Are you going to arrest him?"

  "I need to call local PD. Everything he said was without having his rights read to him. And we don't have enough to make it stick right now, but we have enough to hold him. Hopefully, Vincent will be quick with the research on this guy."

  "This guy is as scummy as the bottom of a pond. I look forward to watching law enforcement take him out for good." Martina seethed.

  Jordan didn't know it, but this was likely the last time he would be in his house unless he could make bail. With six missing girls and his lack of cooperation, it was likely he'd be in jail for a long time. That was just fine by me, but I wanted to know where the women were, and their families deserved to know what happened to them.

  24

  Layla

  In the past year, I have learned to go back to that special place in my mind. In my mind, I could drift outside of this space and time like I had done when my father had done those awful things to me. Back then, I was just a kid. Now that I was older, I realized I was tougher than I was before. Even so, it was hard to believe that I'd survived an entire year in the barn with Willow and Raquel. I had survived 365 days of the master's hot sticky breath and his brutality. I had almost gotten used to the yellow and white house. The bad place is what we called it because it was. It really was.