Always Watching

by LS Sygnet

  “He knew what he was getting into, Helen. He wanted in. I didn’t hear you complaining when you were living an affluent comfortable life.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Are you sure that this is related to Sully?”

  “You heard that phone call. Sullivan’s Boutique? They were sending a message.”

  Hard to disagree with that one. “Still,” I said, “he’s usually far more subtle than that.”

  “And he’s not pulling the strings on the outside anymore.”

  “Do you know if he has any operations on this side of the country?” Dev asked.

  Datello shook his head. “We had an understanding that my mere presence in this city was not a green light for him to set up shop on the west coast. There are far too many existing… well, let’s just say that the west coast has its own problems. He didn’t want a territory war.”

  I dragged one hand over my face. “If you think of a name, anyone at all that you think could be under Sully’s influence, call me. Officer Thomas will make sure everyone knows that I’m at your disposal if you have information. I will not accept calls for status updates. Are we clear on that point?”

  Datello’s eyes narrowed. “As long as you’re clear on something from my perspective, Helen.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When you find the bastard who stole my daughter, you be ruthless. You be every bit the cold hearted bitch you were with Rick.”

  I didn’t have to respond. Datello read the agreement in my eyes. Seems we had more than a few traits in common. It was definitely not ok to screw with kids.

  Chapter 7

  Darnell called Devlin before we were out of the parking lot at the jail. He disconnected the call and slammed on the brakes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We’re supposed to meet Briscoe at the bay. Pier 20.”

  I gripped his arm. “Why?”

  “Dead body. Female. A child, Helen.”

  “Fuck!”

  “Calm down. We don’t know much. Bay View summoned CSD. Maya’s on her way out there too. We’re just gonna go check it out before we do anything else.”

  “They could call us if the search is off. Even Briscoe isn’t too dumb to identify a dead infant.”

  Something dark and ominous unfurled in my belly. The pain was so intense that everything faded to a tiny pinpoint of light. I clutched my stomach and groaned. Sweat burst from every pore on my body.

  The next thing I knew, Devlin was hovering above me, slapping my cheeks lightly. Disorientation hit in crashing waves. I gasped for breath. One hand gripped his wrist before the hand connected with my cheek again.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I rasped.

  “You fainted!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Helen, what’s going on? We were talking about going to the bay, you were arguing about why we shouldn’t be there, and the next thing I know, you’re slumped over in your seat.”

  I sucked breath through my nose. The nausea crawled up the back of my throat and choked me. “Gonna be sick,” I gasped.

  Dev jerked the handle on the car door and tipped my head toward the ground before my dinner made its reappearance. I retched for what felt like hours. Hair plastered to my head. Every muscle in my body quaked.

  “You shouldn’t be out here,” he murmured. “Jesus, Helen. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you tell me you were this sick?”

  “I’m not,” I whispered two weak, barely audible words. No telling how he understood me, but he did.

  “The hell you aren’t.”

  “Kids,” I rasped. “I can’t stand dead kids.”

  “Oh honey.”

  “Let’s just get this over with. You’re right. It’s part of the job. I’ll be fine.”

  He pulled a bottle of water from somewhere in the back seat and handed it to me. “Rinse,” Devlin said.

  “Sorry about the mess.”

  “You’re not gonna get car sick if I start driving, are you?”

  I shook my head. “It’s this case. Any cases with missing kids. When we find bodies, I have a history of losing it. Not like I just did, but like you said. I’ve been a little under the weather this week, so there you have it.”

  “Are you sure you should be out here?”

  I shot him a glare. “Remember what I told Datello? Do you think somebody else in this goddamned city is more capable of finding a missing child than I am? They aren’t. If this child is …” another wave rippled through me. “If this is the Datello infant, we lost. Game over. You can find the perp without my help.”

  “Somehow I doubt that, Helen, but let’s just play it by ear after we see what they found at the bay.”

  He drove much slower than I was used to, no doubt in deference to my stomach. It wasn’t pleased no matter what happened. The closer we got to pier 20, the harder the fist tightened where digestion should’ve been the norm. I felt pummeled by Mike Tyson by the time the symphony of flashing lights blinded me.

  “Ready?”

  “Do I have a choice?” I muttered. Every dead child I’d ever seen flashed on the backs of my eyelids. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve seen more than my fair share of dead bodies over the years. Some were so far gone that all that remained were bleached bones. Some were gooey with an odor that should’ve made me vomit. Others looked like they had merely gone to sleep, never to wake again. Masks frozen in terror, the look of utter surprise that this was how it ended, you name it. I’ve seen it.

  But the children.

  I think it’s the vulnerability, the knowledge that the living possess that we have a responsibility to protect those incapable of protecting themselves that gets under my skin. Their bodies are too small, too frail to withstand some of the abuse I’ve seen inflicted. The innocence lost, reflected in vacant eyes digs deep into a dark place in my mind that most times, I’d prefer deny exists.

  “It ain’t our girl,” Briscoe said. He rushed toward us, huffing and puffing around the tire of lard that cushioned his middle.

  Maya waved me over with one hand.

  “If this isn’t our kidnap victim, I need to get back to the case,” I said. My heel dug into the sand on a quick pivot back to the car.

  “Hell no you don’t,” Briscoe said. “Winslow’s got concerns, and by God, you’re gonna see this –”

  “Tony,” Dev intervened, “it’s not necessary. Maya can call Helen later. She’s here to consult on one case for OSI, not every vic that turns up in the city.”

  “Oh, so one dead baby matters, but another don’t?”

  It was a hard punch to an already aching gut.

  “Or don’t we give a damn ‘cause this one ain’t a pretty blonde white baby?”

  I saw it happening like an out of body experience. A hand that looked like mine, but surely couldn’t be connected to my body, snaked out and wrapped around Briscoe’s windpipe. It squeezed with more strength than I possessed in my still weak left arm.

  His face turned purple.

  A voice barked in my ear. “Helen! Let him go!”

  I’d seen that grip before. A little more pressure, a lateral twist, a satisfying pop, the crunch of the hyoid bone and this thorn in my side would never antagonize me again.

  Devlin gripped my wrist and jerked my arm free. Briscoe fell to his knees in the sand gasping and wheezing.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Dev bellowed. “You could’ve killed him!”

  Speaking of death masks, a trembling finger pointed down at the one staring up at me with hurt and confusion. “Don’t ever speak to me again!”

  I stomped off in the direction of Maya, oblivious to the stunned stares that followed me. “Make it fast. This isn’t my case.”

  “Helen, did you just choke Tony?” Maya’s incredulous eyes stabbed through the haze of rage.

  “He said something so offensive, I think I lost my head for a moment. I do care when children are found dead, Maya.” Hot tears sprang to my eyes.

  H
er arms hugged me tightly. “That fucking troll. Of course you do, sweetheart. I only wanted you to take a look at a mark I found on her arm.”

  “A girl?” I whispered. My emotions bounced around like a red rubber ball on elastic, smacked relentlessly by a wooden paddle. I glanced at the tiny body covered by white on the muddy beach.

  “Helen, if you can’t do this –”

  “Give me a minute.” I stepped away, turned my back and wiped the moisture from my cheeks. Devlin’s boots came into view in the sand in front of me. He reached out and tucked a damp strand of hair behind my ear.

  “He’s fine. I think you scared him more than anything. Scared the shit out of more than Briscoe. He was out of line, Helen, but damn.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “Is he pressing charges for assault?”

  “I think he’s too scared of pissing you off again,” Devlin chuckled. “Did you see what Maya wanted you to look at.”

  “Not yet.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  I sniffled and tucked my riotous emotions into the pit of my stomach. “Yes I do. Whoever she is, she deserves more than washing up on a filthy beach.” I turned around. “Show me what you wanted me to see, Maya.”

  She carefully pulled back enough of the shroud for me to see the wisp of an arm. Breath hitched in my throat. So tiny. My lips rolled inward.

  Maya shined a flashlight on the bluish skin.

  “What the hell?” All squeamishness evaporated. I knelt beside the body for a closer look. “It looks like a UPC symbol.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Maya said, “though for the life of me, I can’t figure out why somebody would put one on a child.”

  “Is it a tattoo?”

  “I won’t know for sure until I get her back to the morgue for a better look.”

  “How old is she?” It looked like the arm size of a toddler, a little too thin. I wondered what sort of physical abuse would spring out if I pulled the cover away from the girl’s body.

  “I’m going to say five to seven years of age.”

  “Malnutrition? Neglect?” Dev’s thoughts mirrored mine. He thought she was too small for that age too.

  “Asian,” Maya said. “From the look of her teeth, this little girl was very well cared for. At least until she was dumped in the bay and left to wash up on shore.”

  I cleared my throat. “Can I have a better look at her?”

  Maya pulled back the sheet. Black glassy eyes stared up at me. She was missing a front tooth, the bud of its permanent replacement piercing the fleshy gum.

  “Her cause of death isn’t jumping out at me, Helen. It doesn’t look like some of the other cases we’ve seen over the years. No obvious fractures. No evidence of physical abuse. She’s not malnourished.”

  “Is she already out of rigor?”

  “No,” Maya shook her head. “Her body temp indicates that she hasn’t been dead long at all. I’d say she was dumped within an hour of washing up on shore. She was probably dumped close to it in shallow water. Otherwise she would be on the bottom and we’d see all sorts of predation in a few days when a body would be discovered.”

  Briscoe approached with extreme caution. An apology wasn’t forthcoming from either one of us.

  I barely acknowledged his presence, but asked a general question. “Is there a missing person’s report on an Asian girl that matches this victim?”

  “Are you aware of any other Amber Alerts in the past twelve hours?”

  I had to admire the balls on a man who would be so openly antagonistic toward a woman that could’ve snapped his windpipe not five minutes earlier. “Somebody has to be missing this child. What about other states?”

  “He’ll look into it, or someone from Bay View will,” Devlin said. “I think we should get back out to headquarters, Helen. We’ve got a lot to do that doesn’t appear to be related to this case.”

  “Don’t it?” Briscoe sneered. “You ain’t spoken to Puppy in awhile, have ya?”

  Devlin’s jaw tightened. “Detective Briscoe, if there is a link between this case and the missing baby from Saint Mary’s, you can count on Darnell calling to put the case in our hands. Maya, good to see you again. Let’s go, Helen.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Briscoe, what makes you think this girl’s Amber Alert would’ve been issued in the past twelve hours?”

  “First twenty-four are critical, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Winslow says this girl ain’t been dead more’n an hour, two tops. Don’t that fit with your federal profile on how soon these pervos dump the victims after they snatch ‘em?”

  “Yeah, actually, it does fit.”

  “Does that matter?” Maya asked.

  “Perhaps. If there was no alert in the past day for a five to seven year old Asian girl, it could mean a number of things. First could be that a family member is responsible for this. They’d be the first line to report her missing.”

  “But she don’t look like an abused kid,” Briscoe said.

  “No, she doesn’t. Which makes me wonder why her family wouldn’t have reported her missing. She could’ve been in the care of someone else, someone the family trusted.”

  “Yet that don’t explain the mark on her right arm,” Briscoe said.

  “You may as well spit it out now before I get frustrated with you again. What did Crevan tell you?”

  “I never said he told me,” he said, “but I did overhear him tellin’ Darnell before he left the hospital for a chat with your suspect.”

  “And?” Devlin growled his lost patience.

  “Your Florence Payette came right unglued when the boys from OSI picked her up.” He paused, stared at the tiny arm of our victim. “All they got out of her was that she don’t have no choice but to do what her owner tells her to do.”

  “Jesus,” I rasped. I grabbed Dev’s hand and dragged him behind me on the beach.

  “What? Why are you freaking out, Helen?”

  “That mark,” I said. “Maybe it looks like a UPC symbol because it is.”

  “Why would you –”

  “Human trafficking,” I wheezed the horrible thought from a constricted throat. “Selling human beings, Devlin. If Payette is owned, and she stole Datello’s daughter –”

  “And we have a dead child on the beach with a weird mark on her arm, that baby could be far out at sea by now.”

  “Dammit!”

  The corruption in Darkwater Bay apparently knew no bounds.

  “We should expand the search for missing Asian children to the international stage,” Devlin said.

  “Prepare to be sickened. It’s not a pretty picture, Devlin.”

  Chapter 8

  My leg bounced. I chewed the cuticle of a thumbnail until it bled onto my lower lip. That particular pound of flesh was next in line for abuse.

  “Helen, we don’t know that these cases are related.”

  “Dev, as much as I hate Tony Briscoe right now, he made a valid point. And who the hell refers to someone as their owner? I’d bet my life savings that Crevan hasn’t gotten a coherent word out of Florence Payette.”

  “Try to call him again.”

  “If he didn’t answer the first three times, what makes you think he’ll pick up if I call him again?”

  “Maybe he’s reached the same conclusion you did by now.”

  “No,” I said. “He won’t give up that easily.”

  “You won’t give up that easily. Crevan knows when he’s beating his head against a wall. Plus, he’s gotta know that this woman is probably going to be more likely to open up to a woman than a man. Hate to break it to you, cupcake, but women aren’t as threatening as men.”

  “Don’t call me cupcake. And did you miss my little non-threatening outburst at the bay? I bet Briscoe would give you a different opinion right about now.”

  “Well, I’ve never thought you were an average girl. I still think you’ll have
a better shot at getting information out of Payette than the rest of us.”

  “I doubt it. Are you familiar with Stockholm Syndrome?”

  “In a very vague sense. Isn’t that where victims begin to identify with their captors to the point of cooperation?”

  “It’s a little more complex than that. Say I kidnap you. And every day, I come into the dungeon where I’ve got you chained to a wall without even the most basic of creature comforts. I repeatedly tell you that today, I might kill you.”

  “After what I just saw, I think I can almost picture that scenario,” he grinned.

  “Knock it off. I’m serious. So I’m constantly threatening to kill you. Maybe I even smack you around a little bit. But I always end the interaction with some act of mercy. Say I give you food and water. I don’t speak kindly. But my actions are a stark contrast to the threat of death and physical abuse.”

  “I think I’d be wondering if the food and water were poisoned.”

  “You think like a cop. A normal human being is going to latch onto that unspoken kindness. It creates a situation where the captive is willing to do just about anything to please the captor. The survival instinct kicks in. They start convincing themselves that maybe this horrible person isn’t so terrible.”

  “And all victims of kidnapping experience this?”

  “No,” I said. “But imagine a lifetime of systematic abuse like that, threats followed by kindness. It bonds the captive to the captor in ways that are often impossible to work through. If Florence Payette is in her mid to late fifties and still identifies herself as the property of another human being, it doesn’t bode well for even the most gifted psychologist to break through that bond.”

  “So you’re saying this is a dead end.”

  “No, but I don’t expect her to open up and suddenly cooperate. If we’re going to get anything out of her, we’re going to have to take the approach that she’s going to help her tormentor. If she thinks she’s doing the right thing for this person, we might glean a clue that helps us find out who she stole that baby for.”

  When we arrived at OSI, Crevan met us with tufts of hair standing on end. He shook his head. “She’s not talking.”