One by One

by Sarah Cain

  She laughed. “He is a peacock. But he doesn’t usually wear the watch. He must have forgotten.” She held up her hand and pointed her finger at her temple. “He can be a little dense at times. He grew up in a goddamn mansion, for Chrissake. Of course, his father practically disowned him. No wonder he wanted to pretend to be someone else, right?”

  “Dad didn’t approve of his life choices?”

  “To say the least. I guess that’s why Ted joined the Camden PD. Trying to be all macho. What an idiot.”

  “Is that how he ended up at Greg’s parties?”

  “He was in serious pain. Hooked on oxy, you know? Heroin is an easy fix for that. Plus, he met people.”

  “Prostitutes,” Kevin said.

  “He met other guys.” Barb gave him a look that challenged him to make a remark. “Cops can be such assholes. Most of the guys at Greg’s parties were rich. A few were in the closet, too. But he finally met someone who wasn’t an asshole. Drew’s sweet. He wasn’t really part of the whole party scene. He talked Ted into getting straight. Well, you know what I mean.”

  “So good for Ted. He got clean and found true love.”

  Barb pursed her lips. “You don’t believe in love? Or is that just for heteros?”

  Kevin suppressed his sigh. That’s right. He was the asshole. “I believe in love, and to be honest, I hope Ted Eliot is happy as hell in a house with a white picket fence. I just don’t give a shit unless it has bearing on this case. I want to know about Greg and his parties. If he’s important, I need to know about Drew. I want to know what your deal is, Barb. I want to know about Greg’s partner, and I want to know about Cromoca.”

  She blew out a slow breath and ran her tongue over her lips. “That’s a lot of information. I could call my lawyer.”

  “Someone’s after you. Maybe it’s connected to Greg’s parties. Maybe it’s not.”

  “I’ll talk to you as a source. If you try to arrest me, I’ll deny everything.”

  Kevin considered. He might need her testimony. Greg Moss was dead. She definitely was tied into the party scene, but did the parties tie into Greg’s death? Was it worth losing her as a possible accessory? If it saved his brother, then yes.

  “I’m not recording you. I’m not talking to you as a suspect,” he said. “I’m trying to connect the dots.”

  “Look. I know people. That’s my job. I cater parties. Okay? I just got my real estate license. Yeah, I introduced people to Greg, and he introduced people to me. I catered his parties. I helped provide entertainment.”

  “Entertainment?”

  “Escorts.” She hesitated. “The women were working girls, but very high-end. Like you think Philly’s a dead town, but it isn’t. Lots of upscale escorts. There were girls from Atlantic City and New York, too. Nobody underaged. No sex slaves.”

  “You’d swear to that?”

  “Yes, but I’m not going to court.”

  “A lot of dope changed hands?”

  “Yeah. Mostly blow, but they were moving heroin and pills, too. Lot of X. The old guys needed their little blue pills, so it was available. And trust me, you aren’t going to get anywhere going after the people who went to those parties.”

  Kevin swallowed. That sounded familiar. “Greg’s clients paid to get in. Is that how it worked?”

  “Something like that. If they wanted a full package—dope and sex. Some guys got comped because they were major customers. Some made extra arrangements with the women on the side. It was pretty free form.”

  “Do you know how Greg brought in the drugs?”

  “Greg had a partner. He took at least half of the profits.”

  “Did you ever meet him?”

  She shook her head. “He never came to the parties, but I know Greg and he were old friends. Greg only did business with old friends.”

  “Like high school friends?”

  “Yeah.” Barb sighed. “Greg could never let go of anyone, you know. So whoever this guy was, your brother knows him.”

  Kevin perked up. It was a slim lead, but still a lead. “Why do you say that?”

  “Greg said so. His partner knew your brother, said he was a good guy.”

  Kevin clenched his fists. Greg’s drug dealing partner thought Danny was a good guy, which meant he was probably an associate of Vic Ceriano. On the other hand, maybe Theresa knew him. Their sister knew most of the lowlifes in the city. That was something. A shred of something.

  “What about Cromoca?”

  She hesitated. “Cromoca is just a property acquisition company. It buys land and sells it. Nothing illegal.”

  “Nothing illegal?” Kevin gave a harsh laugh. People always said that when they hid behind these goddamn corporate fronts. Nothing illegal, his ass. “Who’s making a profit, Barb?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know who the partners are. Greg never told me.”

  She made eye contact and spoke directly, but Kevin didn’t believe her. She held herself rigid, her lips pursed. She was holding something back. He either pushed her or let it slide. For now, he chose the latter.

  “So what are you going to do?” Barb asked.

  “Nothing for the moment.” Kevin leaned a little closer. His size tended to intimidate people. Barb Capozzi didn’t lean back, but he watched her pulse begin to notch up. Good. She was nervous. “But let me tell you something. If you didn’t spike your own drink—”

  “Are you crazy? I almost died! I’m not even supposed to touch naproxen with my hands.”

  Her pulse was hammering now. Fear? Anger? Both? She looked genuine enough, but sometimes the best liars seemed the sincerest.

  “Look,” she said. “If I tell you something that has bearing, could you maybe stop hassling me?”

  “Something like what?”

  “At senior week, at Greg’s, there was this one night. He had this insane party with excellent dope, and things got out of control.”

  “This isn’t anything new, Barb.”

  She played with her cell phone, running her fingers around the edge of it, almost but not quite pressing the button to turn it on. Kevin waited. She was testing his patience, but with witnesses, he knew how the game worked.

  “This girl got gangbanged.”

  “What girl?”

  “Jenna Jeffords.”

  “So? Nothing I can do about it now. She’s dead.” But it gave him a place to start, and maybe it tied into whoever was texting Danny. “Who was involved?”

  “I don’t know everyone. Frank Greer. Stan Riordan. Rick. Nate. Chris. Not Greg, though there were probably others.”

  Kevin took a breath before he asked the next question. “Danny?”

  She shook her head. “Danny never came in the house.”

  “Okay. Write the names down.”

  “It won’t—you won’t use my name?”

  “No.”

  “There’s something else.” Barb reached for Kevin’s arm, and he stared at the bruises left by the IV on the pale flesh of her hand, not wanting to look into her eyes. “I don’t know if it’s true, but I heard Jenna got pregnant.”

  “And then she was killed in that fire.”

  Barb shrugged. “I guess.”

  Kevin needed his Maalox. This case was insane. “All right, Barb. I suggest you watch your back, and don’t think about leaving town. I might need to talk to you again.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his card case. “Here, take my card. It’s got my cell phone. If you think of anything, you call me. If you see something, you call me. If something doesn’t seem right, you—”

  “I got it. Call you.” She gave him a bitter smile. “And you’ll be my protector?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I sure hope you carry a great big gun.”

  Kevin shoved the case back into his pocket. “Just call.”

  43

  Alex’s head throbbed, and she thought she could hear the tsk, tsk, tsk of a cuckoo clock. But that was wrong. That was a bad dream where she’d been in
a green living room with a crazy woman. She opened her eyes and let out a small sob. She was lying on her side on a cold dirt floor that smelled vaguely rotten, like old vegetation, her hands duct taped behind her back. Her knees and ankles were taped as well. Something thick and sour and cottony had been stuffed into her mouth and taped in place.

  She took a deep breath, and the cotton fibers mixed with the smell of feet choked her. She had to relax. She tried again. It was a little better. It was important to be calm. Try to get her bearings. If only her head didn’t hurt so much. Then she remembered Rachel offering her iced tea. Standing over her. Smacking her with that goddamn tray.

  Calm. She had to stay calm. Crazy Rachel who believed Danny and Jenna were in love. Crazy Rachel who photoshopped a prom picture to make it look like Danny and Jenna had been prom dates.

  Where did Rachel get that photograph? What other photos were in that album? If only Alex had texted Danny and told him where she was going this morning. He would have come after her. Now she was on her own. In a hole. Dim light filtered through an opening in a corner of the room, just enough to turn the gloom dark gray.

  Alex closed her eyes. In the distance she thought she could hear the sound of water, so the river wasn’t too far. That meant the earth would probably be soft. Maybe this was some kind of boathouse? No, the river didn’t sound close enough. The air was dense and close but not overwhelmingly hot. She was underground. How far was she from that crazy house?

  The walls appeared to be cement block though the floor was dirt, and the ceiling was braced and held up by jacks in three spots. It wasn’t particularly reassuring. Whoever had built the foundation for this—whatever it was—had done a terrible job of it.

  The floorboards overhead squeaked as heavy footsteps approached. Alex curled into a ball as a door above her opened. Footsteps trod down wood steps. A flashlight shone in her face, and she turned her head.

  “You look good like that,” a male voice said. Young. Alex tried to see his face, but the light shone in her eyes. “All trussed up like a Christmas turkey.” He ripped the tape off Alex’s mouth and pulled out the gag. Then he yanked her upright.

  “Be nice now, dear.” Rachel’s voice.

  “Rachel, please. Let me go. I don’t understand why you’re keeping me here,” Alex said. Her voice came out in a froggy croak as she worked to get saliva back into her mouth.

  The man said, “Keep that light shining in her face, Ma.” He held Alex with one hand and pulled out a bottle of water with another. “Sit still.” He let go of her to open the bottle, and she slumped sideways. He jerked her back up and threw some water in her face. “I said, sit still. Now drink.” He held the bottle to Alex’s mouth, forcing her to swallow. She choked, and water slopped down her front. “Stupid black bitch.”

  “Fuck you!” Alex screamed the words as loud as she could.

  He poured the rest of the bottle of water over her head. “You think screaming will help? Who’s gonna hear you? The raccoons? We own twenty acres. Nobody’s gonna hear you.” He dropped another bottle on the ground. “That’s all you get till tomorrow, so make it last. Have fun getting it open.”

  “Oh, now, honey. There’s no need to be so mean. Ms. Burton, I’m going to leave you these nice sandwiches. I think you can eat them if you just lie down on your stomach.” Rachel set down a paper plate with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

  “Rachel, please.” Terror made her voice crack. Alex tried to see past the glaring light, but their faces blended into the darkness.

  The man let go of Alex so quickly, she dropped back onto the wet dirt.

  “Jesus Christ. Be nice to her if you want, Ma. She’s the one your precious Danny was trying fuck the other night. Remember that. She’s nothin’ but a Ho-Ho-Ho.” He gave Alex a kick in the stomach, not hard enough to do any real damage, but enough to knock the wind out of her. “You’re a wicked Jezebel.”

  Alex couldn’t answer. If she did, he’d come at her again, but if he touched her, she’d hurt him. Somehow. She didn’t care what it cost her.

  Alex glanced up. Rachel had let the light droop again, and she could see the man now. He was young, in his teens or early twenties, with wavy dark hair. She bet he had a pair of bright-blue eyes. He was the boy in the photographs. She was sure of it. She lowered her gaze before he caught her staring.

  Rachel said, “You should be nicer anyway. She’s our guest.” She opened the second water bottle. “Here, you’d better drink a little.”

  She eased Alex up and held her until she’d swallowed enough water to ease her thirst.

  “Okay, Ma. Be nice, but she’s untrustworthy.”

  Rachel ignored him. “Now you can rest.” When she let go, Alex slumped over, and it occurred to her that there might be something in the water. Poison? It was too late now.

  The boy just chuckled. “Let’s let our guest eat her snack.” He paused at the foot of the steps. “If you get lonely, you can howl.” He was still laughing when he and Rachel closed the door.

  Alex lay with her face pressed against the cool mud. The smell of peanut butter made her stomach rumble, but she couldn’t force herself to move closer. “I’m not afraid,” she said aloud. Something brushed past her, and she gasped. “It’s dark. I can deal,” she said after catching her breath.

  She couldn’t just lie there. He might come back. He’d hurt her if he came back alone. His hatred had been a living thing, like a black cloud of stinging bees. He’d been watching Danny and her the other night. That was enough to make her skin crawl.

  She’d messed up, and now she was paying for it. Mama always said she was too headstrong, too damn stubborn.

  “You want what you want now, and there’s no compromising with you,” she’d say. “You’re just so too full of yourself. You’ll pay for that.”

  Wasn’t that what Sam always said? “You don’t listen enough, Alex. I don’t understand how you can be a good reporter when you don’t want to listen.”

  Tears boiled in Alex’s eyes. She was a screw-up. That’s why she still toiled in relative obscurity. She pushed and pushed, but she didn’t have the knack for drawing people out. Her parents would shake their heads, ever so gently. Never wanting to give offense. It always pissed her off. She was always the squeaky wheel while her sister, Thea, was a perfect lady. Thea should have married Sam. By now, they’d have two perfect kids and a dog, and she’d run his house and cook his dinner, and they’d have a perfect life.

  Screw them all.

  Alex started wiggling and twisting. At least Danny liked her the way she was. He told her she had fire. If she was going to die here, at least she’d kissed him, even if she’d told him they couldn’t do it again. If she got out, she’d do more than kiss him. And she wasn’t sorry. If she got out. God, she had to get out.

  Alex managed to push her body through the circle of her arms and gave a shout of triumph. All that yoga was good for something. Now at least her hands were in front of her.

  She picked and peeled away the duct tape that bound her knees and then her ankles. Maybe she’d be able to catch Rachel and that boy off guard when they returned.

  The boy. He called Rachel “Ma.” Of course, Rachel was clearly missing a few marbles. That photograph. Something about that photograph bothered her, aside from the fact that Rachel had done a piss-poor job of altering it. Damn.

  Of course, Rachel probably didn’t understand technology that well. She’d come out here and hidden away. Why?

  How much did anybody know about Rachel Jeffords? Did she have family? Alex tried to remember, but her thoughts were turning wispy, like a fog rolling in. Rachel must have had some family. Somewhere. Why did she choose to hide out here with that horrible kid? Where did he come from?

  Was he Jenna’s brother?

  Not her brother. The revelation came to Alex like a clap of thunder. Oh, shit. She was wearing that same damn Claddagh ring. It couldn’t be, but it would explain why Rachel looked so young. Something happened at that bea
ch house all right, and Alex had to tell Danny. She had to get the hell out of this hole in the ground. Alex started to stand, but she toppled over into the mud. There must have been something in the water they’d given her, and she fought to stay awake. She had to fight. She had to get out.

  Jenna Jeffords hadn’t died in that fire. Her mother had. Jenna’d switched places with Rachel, and nobody had figured it out, until today.

  “I’m not afraid,” Alex shouted. “I’m getting out.” She tried to push herself up again, but her elbows buckled. Tears slid down her cheeks, and she rolled onto her back. “I’m awake. I’m awake. I’m awake.” She said it over and over until the darkness took her.

  44

  Danny cruised down Delaware Avenue toward the old neighborhood, turning right on Tasker and heading down Second Street. He wasn’t trying to remember the good old days in living color. He wanted to check out Jenna Jeffords’s old home. It was gone, of course. According to Alex’s site map, the property was owned by a Henry Chang, and it was no longer a redbrick row house. The entire block was part of a larger development of townhomes that was slightly more upscale than the surrounding neighborhood. This was Cromoca Partners’ first major development in Philadelphia.

  Danny parked and got out. He took a picture of Henry Chang’s house and accessed the homes facing the development. Redbrick rows, a few with Blessed Mother statues in the front windows, which probably meant they belonged to older folks. It was a warm afternoon, and Danny figured the owners might be coming out to enjoy the sun.

  He saw a woman in a blue sundress. Blonde, in her sixties, and built like a fire hydrant, she frowned when he approached and asked if she knew anything about the new townhouses. She stepped back from him and shook her head. Even after he pulled out his press ID, she eyed him like he might be a serial killer, so Danny stood back and let her go on. A pair of teenagers shrugged and said they were new to the area, and an older man was so deaf, he couldn’t understand what Danny was asking.

  Danny wasn’t deterred. He walked down to the end of the block where two older women in bright sundresses sat watching him from their white vinyl beach chairs.