by T. R. Ragan
“I didn’t understand at first, but now I think it was because she knew exactly what the note meant. Whoever gave it to her must have known she had lied on air about having a stalker. She was embarrassed by what she did and didn’t want anyone to know.”
“And she was probably afraid of losing her job,” Jared added.
“Definitely. Her career is number one.”
“Sounds familiar.”
“Come on,” Lizzy said, “that’s not fair.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Anything else?”
Lizzy grabbed her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed to put them on. “During the basic investigation interview, which was done at Madeline’s home, Kitally found a magazine with all the cutout letters that were used to make the note I just told you about.”
“What did the detective think about that?”
“He doesn’t know. Assuming Madeline’s attacker planted the magazine when he left the wallet, I figured there had to be more surprises in the house, so Hayley, Kitally, and I performed a search. There was a steel rod in one of the living room windows, which is how Madeline’s attacker must have been getting inside. We also found a syringe that I’m sure he planted in hopes that the police would think Madeline was the one who put a needle in her arm, not her so-called attacker.”
Jared rubbed his face with both hands. “And what did you do with all of this evidence?”
“I took photographs and I made everyone wear latex gloves. I made sure everything we found was placed inside evidence bags.”
“And then?”
“And then I put it all in a box in the trunk of my car.”
Jared slid his legs over the side of the bed, and then turned on another light. He looked at Lizzy, his hair mussed, his eyes tired. “What are you doing?”
“I already told you. I’m going to meet Madeline at her house. The police should already be there.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. You can’t just take evidence away from a crime scene. And no matter how careful you were, you know evidence gathered by anyone but the cops won’t be admissible.”
“Look,” Lizzy said as she came to her feet, “this stuff was obviously planted. Madeline’s judgment might be suspect when it comes to furthering her career, but she’s not stupid enough to leave wallets on her coffee table and cut-up magazines in her bathroom for everyone to see. If she had anything to do with it, that magazine would have already been burned in the fireplace or shredded.”
Jared came to his feet. He stood near the bed, naked in all his glory, and she was running out in the middle of the night to help a woman she wasn’t sure she could trust. She grabbed her bag, then walked up to him and gave him a quick kiss on his jaw.
“I guess I’ll meet with the photographer and the florist alone,” he said.
Her shoulders sagged. “Was that today?”
“Yep.”
“I shouldn’t be long. What time are we supposed to meet the photographer?”
“Ten o’clock for the photographer and twelve noon for the florist.”
“Any chance we can postpone until next week?”
“I’ll be gone next week.”
She sighed. “That’s right. You leave tomorrow, don’t you?”
“Just go,” Jared said. “Go take care of whatever it is you need to do and I’ll figure out the rest.”
He ushered her out the bedroom door and when she got to the landing, Lizzy looked back at him, but he’d already disappeared. The bedroom lights went out.
For a moment, she merely stood in the semidark and wondered if she was doing the right thing. Maybe she should tell Madeline to find someone else to help her. And then her cell phone rang and she walked out the door, photographers and wedding plans all but forgotten.
CHAPTER 38
Hayley had been walking the streets for hours. It was cold out, but not cold enough to stop her mind from racing. A dog barked in the distance and she could smell the last remnants of a fire simmering from a chimney or two. She thought about Tommy and wondered what he was doing tonight. Two years ago, before her mother was murdered, she had considered Tommy to be more than a friend. Not a lover, although that had been a possibility, sort of. Now she wasn’t sure what exactly he meant to her. She usually saw him at UFC training, but she hadn’t been going lately, mostly because she’d felt angrier than usual and she had no desire to hurt someone who might not deserve it. Kitally and Lizzy were the only two people brave enough to step inside her apartment. And now Jessica, too, although Jessica probably had no idea she was playing with fire by coming around. Or maybe Jessica did know . . . she wasn’t as easy to read as she used to be.
It was hard to tell what Jessica was thinking these days. There was something about her that boggled the mind. Jessica used to get so emotional and afraid when it came to doing anything outside the law, even outside her own set of unspoken rules. The same maniac who’d abducted Lizzy had taken Jessica’s sister. That was their connect, their bond. Jessica’s sister had been subjected to some of the cruelest torture possible before she was killed and put out of her misery. And yet despite all the things that man had done to her sister, Jessica was determined to remain on the up-and-up and do things within the law.
What is it that makes the two of us so different?
Hayley knew the answer to the question before she’d finished the thought.
It was all about choices.
People, good or bad, right or wrong, made choices every day.
Hayley’s situation with Brian, though, was different. She had no choice when it came to how this would end. She knew what had to be done. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t sleep, and she couldn’t rest until Brian was dead.
She took a hit off her cigarette, but even the nicotine failed to release enough dopamine to do her much good.
As on many other nights, she found herself across the street from the house she’d once shared with her mother—the house where she’d found her mother propped up with an axe embedded in her skull.
And it was all Hayley’s fault.
She’d known exactly what kind of a scumbag Brian was when she’d cut off his dick, but she hadn’t had the guts to go on and do what needed to be done. Her mother would be alive today if she’d taken care of business when she’d had the chance.
She hated herself almost as much as she hated Brian.
She couldn’t let it go. Never. No way. She would find Brian and this time she would take him out. No last smoke. No last words. She would just point and shoot and be done with it.
CHAPTER 39
Lizzy had been wrong about Detective Chase. She’d thought she was impervious to his intimidation tactics, but that wasn’t true. Now that she’d had the opportunity to spend time alone with him, she could see that the man didn’t bother with tactics to bully or coerce. He didn’t need to. The man was just plain scary. He had a set jaw and dark eyes, not a glimmer of warmth no matter where you looked. She couldn’t help but wonder how he could afford the perfectly fitted suit and shiny new watch. She did not trust the man.
The only reason he’d agreed to meet with her at all was because he happened to be pals with Special Agent Jimmy Martin, who’d happened to put in a call for her, asking Chase to meet with her as a favor.
Lizzy turned over the evidence collected at Madeline’s house and after the detective had a chance to examine it, he looked across his desk at her and said, “So, what is it you want?”
“Three people are missing now. Dr. Blair’s cell needs to be tapped. She needs twenty-four-hour surveillance.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Lizzy straightened in her chair, taken aback by the outburst.
“Do you realize I could bring charges against you for withholding evidence?” he asked.
“I brought the evidence to you as soon as I could,” Lizzy said, ke
eping her voice calm. “Maybe I should talk to my friends at Channel 10 News and let them know that the police failed to do their job in the first place, leaving me to clean up their mess.”
His jaw hardened, which couldn’t be an easy feat, considering it appeared to be made of granite. She watched as the hand on his desk rolled into a fist. What was he going to do, hit her?
“Under the circumstances,” Lizzy went on, “we both know that a missing persons case is not considered a conventional criminal investigation.”
“That was before we found one of the missing persons’ wallets in Dr. Blair’s house.”
“Said missing person was reported by Madeline herself. You wouldn’t have known anything about her missing neighbor if she hadn’t told you.”
“Doesn’t matter. Dr. Blair is a suspect and there’s nothing you can do about that.”
“All the more reason for you people to pull your heads out of your—out of the sand and tap her phone, at her home and office. You also need to set up surveillance.”
A uniformed officer knocked on the door before he poked his head inside. “I just got off the phone with Amber Olinger’s roommate. She said it’s common for Amber to be away for days at a time. I also talked to her parents. The last time they heard from her was two months ago when she called to borrow money.”
Detective Chase nodded and the officer shut the door.
Chase settled an unflinching gaze on Lizzy and said, “Being that you’re sort of like the slug on the bottom of the investigative pond, maybe you don’t understand that missing person cases take time. Unless there are obvious signs of foul play, our hands are tied.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he stopped her with a raised hand. “Lizzy Gardner, big Sacramento PI,” he said with distaste. “You really think you can just walk in here and get everyone hopping with a snap of your fingers?”
Lizzy kept her voice level. “I was once a missing person, Detective. I know firsthand what it feels like to think everyone’s looking for you, but then begin to wonder why nobody’s knocking down any doors. Mine wasn’t a mere missing person case, and neither are these. Why would David Westlake leave his car at work? And why would Chris Porter’s wallet be found in Dr. Blair’s home? Do you really think Dr. Blair would lie about being attacked and then go so far as to say a crazy man called to let her know he had another victim? Someone she happened to know?”
“Dr. Blair lied about having a stalker. Why would she stop there?”
Frustration clawed at her insides. Lizzy tried to think, but he was right about one thing. There were too many dead ends. No bodies and no solid leads. “Can you tell me what you’re doing around here to find Chris Porter?”
“Seventy percent of reported missing persons are found or return within seventy-two hours. I suggest you practice patience, Ms. Gardner.”
“I suggest you read the files again,” Lizzy said. “Chris Porter has been missing for weeks. What are you going to do when another one of Madeline’s friends disappears?”
“You be sure and come back for a visit and let me know when that happens.”
The man’s condescending tone brought Lizzy to her feet. “You think you’ve got everybody cowering under that black-eyed stare of yours, don’t you? Well, you don’t scare me. You’re an asshole, Detective. Plain and simple. If anything has happened to any one of these people, I’m holding you accountable.”
“You should watch that mouth of yours. It just might get you into trouble.”
“I’ll be in touch,” she said as she turned toward the door.
“Ms. Gardner,” he said, stopping her. “I don’t think you want to get on my bad side.”
She lifted both brows in surprise. “Are you trying to tell me that this is your good side?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Are you threatening me, Detective?”
“Just a warning, Private Eye, just a warning.”
CHAPTER 40
“Oh, man, you need to take a look at this.”
Hayley had just stepped into her apartment. She hung the dog leash on the nail next to the door before she made her way to the kitchen area, where Kitally was working on her laptop.
“What is it?”
Kitally pointed to a picture of a girl, then zoomed in on the girl’s face. “Who does that look like to you?”
“Like a younger Abbi Santos. What site is this?”
“It’s not good. It’s a porn site, but not just any porn site. Here the parents not only rent their kids out to perverts, they also post nude pictures of their teenage kids. They get paid for every click.”
“That is fucked up.”
“Earlier today, I ran Owen Santos’s name through a database of porn sites and sure enough, it popped up. That was my first clue that Mr. Santos had hobbies other than his fish. The problem with finding the hardcore perverts is that as you get to the more repulsive sites like this one, just about all the men use aliases and they’re difficult to track down.”
“What made you think to look for him on a porn site?”
“Come on,” Kitally said, “the man talks to his fish. He’s missing and his daughter is a cutter. We’re obviously dealing with a highly dysfunctional family. Anyhow,” she went on, “if a pervert wants to do more than just look, if he wants to sell pictures or anything else on any of these sites, the guy needs to give the so-called company a name and a bank account so they know where to send the money. These scumbags treat these sites like a real business, with 1099s and everything.”
“Did you sign up with a fake name?”
“No,” Kitally said. “I hacked into their system. I found Owen’s name within five minutes, which means he’s a vendor, not just a viewer. It didn’t take me long to find shots of Abbi. No wonder there’s no love lost between her and her father.”
“I guess you didn’t find any pictures of the younger daughter?”
“Nope. But poor Abbi was forced to do some pretty disgusting shit. I’ll print a few of the pictures and put them in the file.”
A rock hit the window, cracking the glass and making Kitally jump.
Dog barked and Hayley went to the sink and looked out the window. Nobody was there. She ran out of the apartment and downstairs. Leave Us Alone was spray-painted in green neon letters across the garage.
Kitally joined her. “Hmm. It’s obvious who left this message. She might as well have signed her name.”
Hayley sighed. “What are you now, a handwriting expert?”
“Just observant. Didn’t you see the green paint on the tips of Lara’s fingers the other day?”
“My attention was on Abbi’s wrists,” Hayley said as she noticed a man sitting in a Chrysler LeBaron parked across the street.
“Well, my guess is Abbi used her little sister’s spray paint.” Kitally pulled out her cell phone and used it to take some pictures, then looked at Hayley. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t look across the street,” Hayley said. “Just point to the paint on the garage door and keep talking.”
“Fine, but can you at least tell me what’s going on while I talk about nothing?”
“There’s a car parked across the street by the park. I’ve seen the driver before. He used to work for Brian.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go over there and talk to him. While I’m at it, I need you to get his license plate number.”
Hayley got halfway across the street before the car took off, tires screeching as it shot right at her. Hayley dove out of the way, rolled a few times, then jumped to her feet and said, “Did you get the number?”
“No. Let’s go after him.” Kitally jumped on her motorcycle and turned on the ignition. As soon as Hayley threw her leg over the back of the seat, Kitally took off.
After Kitally rounded
the first corner, Hayley caught a glimpse of the Chrysler making a left up ahead. Kitally sped up and took the next turn too sharp, just missing a parked car, but managing to hold the lean position and keep the bike upright. The engine growled and screeched when she downshifted in order to swerve around a group of people crossing the street. Hayley had no idea how fast they were going and she didn’t want to know.
The Chrysler ran a red light.
Kitally hit the throttle. The front wheel jumped as they sped through the intersection. There were too many cars between them, so Kitally jumped the bike onto the sidewalk. People shouted and shook their fists before she cut back onto the road.
Kitally squeezed down on the throttle as she circled around the car in front of them, then sped up. They were gaining on him as they headed up El Camino.
He took a right. Kitally did the same.
“Which way did he go?”
“I’m not sure,” Hayley said. “Pull into the shopping center.”
Kitally circled around the area while they both kept a lookout. She stopped and said, “Damn. We almost had him.”
“One. Zero. Eight,” Hayley said. “Those were the first three letters on his plates. Doesn’t do us much good.”
They both took a moment to catch their breath.
“I guess you’ve been driving this thing for a while.”
“Since I was a kid.”
“Since we’re out and about,” Hayley said, “let’s go say hello to Helen Smith, Robin Santos’s neighbor, and see what she can tell us about the mysterious Owen Santos.”
Helen Smith resembled a troll. She stood under the five-foot mark. Her rolled back didn’t help matters. She had beady little eyes and a mountainous nose. She wore a flowery dress and a lavender sweater with missing buttons. Not only did Helen Smith talk a lot, she talked fast. It was like speed-reading: if you caught the first and last word in every sentence, you could pretty much figure out what the hell she was saying.
“The only normal one in that family is their little girl, Lara. Sweetest thing in the world,” Helen said. “Before Owen Santos disappeared, Lara used to come over all the time, mostly after school. We would talk and bake cookies.”
