Blue Steele Box Sets 2

by Remington Kane

  I scratched Willow behind the ear as I looked about the small stable in wonder.

  “Oh my God, I know we talked about doing this, but how did you get this done in only four days?”

  “A lot of planning and a lot of money, but it’s all worth it to see that look on your face.”

  “They have to be cared for too, you know.”

  “It’s all arranged. The Miller’s farm hand, Henry, I placed him on a small retainer so that he’ll take care of the horses. It works out great for him; he was already taking care of them at the Millers anyway.”

  I went to Ramón and hugged him.

  “This is the most fantastic gift ever, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, and I know it’s not your own horse ranch, but it’s a start.”

  I was so happy that I started to cry, and Ramón wiped at the tears.

  “I hope these are tears of joy?”

  “They are. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

  Ramón brushed back my hair as he stared into my eyes.

  “Are you happy, baby, I mean truly happy?”

  “More than I thought possible.”

  “Do you know what’s scary?”

  “What?”

  He kissed me.

  “We’ve only just begun.”

  “You mean it will get even better?”

  “That’s my plan.”

  I took his hand.

  “Let’s go inside and I’ll show you how much I missed you.”

  He grinned wickedly and pulled me down upon a pile of hay.

  I looked around.

  “Here?”

  Ramón made a neighing sound, even as his hands began unbuttoning my jeans.

  Chapter 15

  That evening, I set in our home office and looked over the package that Lawson had given me concerning Victoria Belle.

  Victoria Belle was a female serial killer, a human predator. Unlike Rothman and others of their ilk, she never sought to blend in with society, to live life in a mask of normalcy. Her entire existence appeared to serve only her desire to kill, and her victims, both male and female were believed to be many, possibly even over a hundred.

  She had never held a job, owned a car, or bought a house. When asked about her, Robert Rothman, her mentor, said that Belle realized the world was filled with the weak. The weak and unwary provided everything Belle needed to live and would always do so.

  Robert Michael Rothman himself was revealed to be a serial killer when three armed men invaded his home on a cold and rainy night.

  Rothman had been living on a farm with his wife and mother-in law. He had been a well-known sculptor who kept a workshop out in the barn, where he often worked until the early hours of the morning. When three men entered his home one night, they found only the women.

  Soon after, the would-be thieves dragged his wife and mother-in-law along to the barn, and that’s when his mother-in-law unwisely decided to try to escape. When she was shot down by one of the thugs, Rothman went into action, killing all three men in less than ten seconds.

  His wife Claire was reeling in shock from the carnage when Rothman told her that he was leaving. When he asked her to go with him, she stared over at the open trapdoor, and with tears in her eyes, asked him what he had done.

  Rothman refused to answer but told his wife that he would come back for her.

  Claire, still stunned, simply watched him disappear into the night, but then she decided to investigate the open trapdoor set into the barn’s floorboards.

  Claire had known about the trapdoor since she was a child because the farm she owned had once been her grandparents’ property. Her grandfather had been a moonshiner on the side during Prohibition. He had used the underground chamber as a vault to store his illegal liquor. After the Volstead Act was repealed and alcohol was legal once more, her grandfather had sealed off his hidden vault.

  What Claire discovered that night is that her husband had been putting the chamber to illegal use once more, but illegal use of a far more heinous nature. Claire Rothman came upon the body of a girl hanging from chains, the evidence of torture plain to see.

  Behind the suspended body were dozens of 55-gallon polyurethane drums. They were all black and sealed up tight, and each one contained the body of a young woman.

  When Claire was later questioned by the FBI, she told them that Rothman had abducted her as a girl, but later released her after realizing that he loved her.

  Convinced that he had changed, Claire married him. Four decades later, she learned the truth, that Rothman had never changed, and that his sick impulses had never left him, had in fact, only grown stronger. The man she loved was a monster.

  That’s when Victoria Belle entered the picture, Belle who was theorized to have been Rothman’s first victim, but instead was revealed to be his student.

  Victoria Belle was sicker and more sadistic than Rothman, and she came forward to help him. When Rothman refused to leave and disappear without his wife, Victoria Belle helped him storm an FBI safe house. It ended in a deadly, yet vain, attempt to grab Claire and whisk her away.

  In the aftermath, Rothman was captured, and Belle was thought to have possibly drowned after diving into the rushing water of a rock-strewn stream.

  However, a recent photo found on a dead man’s phone was later confirmed to be Belle, and her last known location was Indiana, but that was months ago.

  I saw why Lawson considered her a challenge. Up until the time she came forth to help Rothman, Victoria Belle was a ghost. That act of charity toward her mentor was responsible for both her fingerprints and her DNA to be on file. They were later matched to dozens of crime scenes.

  However, other than Rothman, Victoria Belle had no friends or family that she cared about, and Rothman was deep inside a high-security prison. In a way, it was too bad, because her affection for him appeared to be her only weak spot.

  I rose from my seat and began pacing as I thought about Robert Rothman. I remembered seeing pictures of the man when his evil nature came to light, and it was discovered that he had killed dozens of young women. Most of those women were similar to Victoria Belle, at least in appearance and age.

  It had been assumed that Rothman and Belle were lovers, but were they? Would a woman risk herself to help a man she loved free his wife from federal agents? It seemed to me that Rothman and Belle were likely more like father and daughter, and a loving daughter would risk herself to help her father.

  I ended my pacing and retook my seat to send off an email to Lawson. I requested that he send me everything he had on Robert Rothman.

  Rothman was the key to finding Belle, I was certain of it, if for no other reason than that he knew her better than anyone.

  I looked at a photo of Belle and realized that we shared a superficial resemblance, although her eyes were blue instead of green, and her raven hair was curly rather than straight, but we appeared to be of the same body type and height.

  I put the files away and hoped that my subconscious would come up with a plan of attack. In any event, Victoria Belle was a future concern. I intended to enjoy myself fully until it was time to go off and track her down.

  Ramón and I arrived in Santuario two days later, and Walter Calvin, Ramón’s adopted father, greeted me with a warm embrace. Walter Calvin was sixty-three, lanky, with a receding hairline and crinkly blue eyes.

  He smiled at me. “Now I have a son and a daughter to visit me, how are you, Blue?”

  “I’m great, Walter, or should I call you Dad?”

  “Walter will be fine, but I hope you’ll think of me as a father-in-law; I certainly consider Ramón my son.”

  “I do think of you as my father-in-law, you’re family.”

  Ramón and I went out for lunch and entered the town’s only restaurant. Ramón’s friend, Juan, and Juan’s wife, Marta, owned the eatery. Marta and Juan were in the process of moving to the Fort Worth area and I looked forward to seeing them more often.

  Juan,
Like Ramón, had been a gang member as a boy, and like Ramón, he had his life turned around by Walter, who was a former priest.

  Juan was a good-looking man who was built thick and was shorter than Ramón, while Marta was beautiful with long flowing hair and big brown eyes.

  Marta and Juan had a nine-year-old daughter named Mary. When I told her about our horses, her eyes lit up in wonder.

  “You mean you can go riding anytime you want?”

  “That’s right, and when you move there, we’ll take you riding if your parents think it’s okay.”

  Mary looked at her mother with pleading eyes.

  “Can I, Mom?”

  “Not by yourself, but you can ride along on the horse with Blue or Ramón, would you like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, now go in the kitchen and see if Sylvia needs a hand.”

  Mary went skipping off and Marta sighed.

  “I’m so glad you mentioned the horses. She’s not looking forward to moving.”

  “I can understand that; all her friends are here.”

  Ramón touched me on the arm to get my attention.

  “Mary and Amy are the same age; perhaps they’ll be in the same school district?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I think they will be.”

  Juan looked back and forth at us.

  “Who’s Amy?”

  “The daughter of a friend of ours,” Ramón said, “and I think they’ll get along great.”

  We visited several other townspeople that day. When we returned to the house, we found Walter in the kitchen preparing to cook dinner.

  Ramón made a groaning noise as he pointed at Walter.

  “Why are you cooking? You know you’re not good at it.”

  Walter stuck his tongue out at him.

  “My housekeeper, Anna, her bursitis has gotten worse and so she’s retired and moved in with her daughter. Until I find a new housekeeper, I’m the maid and the cook.”

  I walked over and saw a griddle in Walter’s hand while also noticing that he had a stack of chicken legs and breasts piled in a bowl.

  “What are you going to make, Walter?”

  “Fried chicken.”

  “With a griddle pan?”

  “Isn’t that how it’s done?”

  Ramón laughed. “How long have you been without Anna?”

  “About a week, why?”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t starved.”

  Walter gave us a sheepish look.

  “I’ve been eating out all week.”

  I took the griddle from his hand and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Go spend time with Ramón while I cook dinner. I’m no chef, but I do know how to fry chicken.”

  Walter smiled. “Thank you, Daughter.”

  The next day, Ramón and I traveled to a nearby town that was much larger than Santuario, and we shopped at their supermarket.

  By the time we left for home, Walter had a freezer full of gourmet TV dinners and I had cooked several meals that he could heat up in the following days, but Ramón made Walter promise to find a new housekeeper.

  When we returned to Fort Worth, Ramón and I began a new ritual. We went riding every morning. I hadn’t been riding so much since I was a kid and I loved it.

  Two weeks after I captured William Stinett, I found that my thoughts were more and more turning to Victoria Belle. The woman was truly dangerous and would continue killing for as long as she remained on the loose. That said, I still had no starting point or plan to use in capturing her. Until I did, it was useless to even begin searching.

  Rothman was the key, he knew Belle better than anyone and might possibly know where she would hide. At the very least he should be able to help guide a search in the right direction.

  Rothman and Belle were tight, but she had escaped while he was now locked away, perhaps his misery would like some company.

  While sitting in the office, I grabbed the secure phone I used for work and dialed Lawson’s number. When there was no answer, I left a message.

  He called back several minutes later.

  “I hope this call means that you’ve been thinking about Victoria Belle?”

  “It does, and I’ve come to the conclusion that Robert Rothman is the key to finding her.”

  “I don’t see how, Rothman is locked away and he’s never agreed to offer assistance in her capture.”

  “Still, no one knows her as well as he does.”

  “What would you like to do?”

  “I want to interview him. Can that be arranged?”

  “I believe so, but I’ll have to make requests and it will have to take place in the prison.”

  “I understand. Let me know when you have a date and time.”

  “There’s no rush on capturing Victoria Belle, you know, and what I mean by that, is that I don’t expect you to do this all on your own. You have a team behind you now. That team will gather intel as it becomes available. When Belle slips up and reveals a possible location, that’s when I’ll send you in.”

  I let out a long breath.

  “Lawson, that could take months. I’d rather be more proactive where she’s concerned.”

  “All right, I hired you because you know what you’re doing, so I guess I’ll let you do it, but be aware, I’ll be sending you after other targets until you’re ready to move on Belle.”

  “You have an assignment for me?”

  “Not as yet, and self-starter that you are, you’ve already gone to work on the Belle case.”

  “I’m just gathering information for now; the next step in that is to talk to Rothman.”

  “Blue.”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful around Rothman. He’s in his sixties, of average stature, and will likely be shackled, and he’ll still be more dangerous than most men.”

  “I understand, I’ve studied the reports you sent me, however, he did meet his match in our mutual friend, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but Dr. White’s husband may be the deadliest man alive, and that comes from someone who has known many deadly men over the years.”

  “He may be deadly, but he’s nothing like Rothman.”

  Lawson was silent then, and in that silence, I sensed disagreement with my last statement. He spoke again before I could ask about it.

  “I’ll let you know when you can see Rothman.”

  “Thank you, and goodbye.”

  As I put the phone away, Ramón stuck his head in the door.

  “Are you working?”

  “More like prep work, and I’ll have to travel to Indiana in a day or two.”

  “What’s in Indiana?”

  “The United States Penitentiary at Terre Haute, I’m going there to interview Robert Michael Rothman about Victoria Belle.”

  Ramón made a face. “That bastard, he’s killed dozens of girls.”

  “And played mentor to only one, Victoria Belle.”

  “Do you really think you’ll get him to talk?”

  I smiled. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Chapter 16

  Three days later, I entered an interview room inside the penitentiary at Terre Haute, Indiana. Rothman was shackled to a metal chair and dressed in a beige two-piece outfit that resembled hospital scrubs.

  We were alone in the room, but a guard stood outside and could see into the room through a small, wire-mesh window placed high up in the door.

  The United States Penitentiary at Terre Haute is a high-security prison that houses federal prisoners. It is a sprawling complex, and Rothman was a guest of its death row. Although, given the legal system’s innate slowness at dispensing justice, Rothman would likely die of old age before his appeals ran out.

  Robert Michael Rothman was sixty-two, five-foot-eight, and weighed one-hundred and fifty-two pounds. Until his true nature was revealed, he had made his living as a sculptor, and a very talented sculptor he was. When researching him, I studied his body of work and often marveled at the beauty he cr
eated by chipping away at lifeless stone. Many of his sculptures had an almost animated appearance to them, despite being made of granite or marble. In his other life, he’d labored at turning young women, women who were full of life and promise, into inanimate objects.

  Were it ever determined that he had a split personality, I would find it difficult to scoff at the diagnosis.

  Rothman looked me over with a pair of intense eyes that didn’t match the rest of him at all. His eyes never left me and when I sat down across from him at the scarred wooden table, he took his gaze from my body and stared into my eyes.

  I got the impression that he expected me to flinch, but I had seen eyes more intense than his. They belonged to the man that Lawson often referred to as, “Our mutual friend.”

  Rothman spoke first. “My lawyer thinks this interview is a bad idea, but when I heard you were a young woman, I overrode his objections.”

  “Does that mean you’ll be cooperative?”

  “I’m told you want to know about Victoria, why is that?”

  “Because I’m going to hunt her down and see that she’s locked away in a cell like you are.”

  He smiled. “If you fail at that, she will kill you.”

  “I won’t fail.”

  His smile widened. “Blue Steele, is that your real name?”

  “It is.”

  “Such a hard name for such a soft-looking woman, but I see the fire in those eyes, and I can tell that you’re far from soft inside. However, you have a weakness that can be exploited, while Victoria has no weaknesses.”

  “What weakness do you think I possess?”

  “The usual, you have people you care for, I see a ring on your finger there, Victoria could use your husband to hurt you.”

  “She might find my husband a handful as well.”

  The smile left his face, but then he gave a slight shrug.

  “She’d find someone to use against you, your mother, perhaps even a child.”

  I thought of little Blue and my heart raced just from imagining Belle getting anywhere near him.