Before I could second guess myself, I snatched up the pile of folders and tucked them under one arm, thinking I could hide Tasha's with the rest if someone questioned me. Then I walked nonchalantly across the squad room, and out into the hall. I headed straight to the lady's restroom, and went inside. I hurried to the farthest stall and sat down on the closed toilet with a huffed out breath. Then I sat there and stared at my pilfered case files.
Holy shit, I just stole from another detective. What the hell was I doing risking my career like this? I should just take them back before I ended up getting busted, but then an image if Tasha's sweet smiling face appeared in my head. She'd been so young, her life stolen before it had barely begun. Tears pricked my eyes, and I closed them as determination fell over me. No. I had to do this. I had to, no matter the risk. I took a fortifying breath and opened the file.
I scanned the police report first. It detailed the crime scene and how they'd found Tasha's body sprawled out on her bed, apparently whipped, beaten, and stabbed. There'd been no sigh of forced entry, and the old building didn't have security cameras in the halls so a suspect couldn't be found that way.
I flipped to the medical examiners report next and felt ill as I read through all the horrific things that had been done to her. I never asked Emilia for any details, not wanting to traumatize her further. Now I was glad I didn't. I imagine it was bad enough telling it all to the police. Tasha had been beaten badly, her face, in particular, which explained the closed casket yesterday. It caused the head trauma that attributed to her death along with the multiple stab wounds. There were signs of forced intercourse, vaginal bleeding and tearing, but no semen was found. The bastard must have worn a condom.
She also had marks on her wrists and ankles consistent with restraints of some sort. The report stated that there were several sets of these marks of differing ages. What? It also said that there were whip marks on her breasts, back, and thighs, also of differing ages. Whip marks? I stared at it in confusion. How was that possible? Had some sicko been beating her for a while? Why would Tasha let someone do that to her, let alone let them into her apartment? I shook my head in consternation and continued reading. The restraints, the knife, and whatever had been used to whip her weren't found at the crime scene. The killer must have taken them with him.
It was quickly becoming clear that Warren wasn't anywhere near solving this crime, let alone found any evidence to the identity of the murderer. Damn it. I was hoping for more, some sign that they were getting somewhere. I flipped the page hoping to find something useful. I stilled and stared at the crime scene photos. Reading about it had been one thing, and it wasn't like I'd never seen images of murder victims before, but seeing someone you knew was a whole other story. My stomach churned at the sight of Tasha's bloody and broken body. Tears instantly blurred my vision, and the few files under Tasha's slid off my lap onto the floor, some of their contents slipping out. Shit. I bent down to gather them up before someone came in and saw them. I grabbed one of the crime photos that had fallen out and froze as I realized what I was looking at.
The woman in this image wasn't Tasha, but everything else in the picture was eerily similar to Tasha's photos. What? I hastily shuffled through the case files until I found the one the photo had fallen out of and scanned through it. Restraint marks. Whip marks. Head and facial trauma consistent with a beating. Sexual assault. Cause of death from multiple stab wounds. One after the other, all the details lined up almost identically.
I went through the other two case files and found the same similar details of each homicide. I stilled again as realization hit me like a blow. Holy shit, did this mean what I thought it did? Was I imagining things? I flipped through the files a second time, not wanting to believe it, but the similarities were glaring and undeniable to me.
"Oh my God," I whispered in disbelief. It was true. Tasha was a victim of a serial killer. This was some serious shit. No wonder Warren was keeping the case to himself. Hell, he'd probably been ordered to keep the details from anyone but the few detectives working the case. A public panic would probably ensue if anything about it got out. I stared down at the horrifying photos, and my stomach churned.
This was so fucked up, so very wrong. None of it made any sense at all. How the hell did the killer manage to restrain and whip them several times and not have the girls report it? None of them were missing before their bodies were discovered in their own apartments. They must have willingly let this scumbag do those things to them, but why? Why would any sane person let a man restrain them and whip?
My eyes widened. Holy fuck. I suddenly knew exactly why someone would do that. I didn't know why it didn't occur to me sooner. BDSM. Some sick fucker was using BDSM to prey on unsuspecting women. Though I wasn't in the kinky lifestyle myself, I'd been exposed to it on the vice squad quite a few times. I knew most people in it were consensual adults not hurting anyone, but there were bad seeds everywhere.
There were countless romance novels romanticizing BDSM, but they were fantasies. They rarely talked about what could go wrong, or how to safely have that kind of relationship. The victims were all in their early twenties and probably inexperienced. Some sick bastard must have exploited that and then killed them for it. Those poor girls. Poor Tasha. No one deserved that. No one.
I stared at the pictures again. It was obvious Warren hadn't made the connection I just did. There was no mention of BDSM anywhere in all the case files. I thought about telling Warren about my suspicions, but balked at that idea. I feared the bullheaded asshole wouldn't listen to me or take my idea seriously. He had such a singular mind, that he tended to focus in one direction and not even consider any other. It wouldn't be the first time he ignored someone else's suggestions. No, I wasn't going to tell him. I couldn't trust him to use the information I gave him. It wasn't my place or my job, and it could get me fired or worse, but I had to do something about this myself, and I knew just where to start.
I carefully put all the case files back together and left the restroom. I walked confidently down the hall and into the squad room. No one noticed me place the files back where I'd found them on Warren's desk. I went to my own desk and woke my computer up, then typed in, Désir Dangereux, the name of the only BDSM club in town. According to my search, it was owned by a company called R&C LTD, and there was an address listed for it. I nodded in satisfaction. That was where I would start my own investigation.
CHAPTER
FOUR
____________________
Scott
Douchebag. I shit on the mother who bore you.
I laughed quietly to myself as I walked toward the entrance of R&C LTD's business office, once again recalling the English translation of the venomous words Lu had thrown at me a week and a half ago. I'd looked it up as soon as I got home that night, then went straight to my shower, grabbed a hold of my aching hard dick, and jerked off to memories of Lu and her scathing tongue until I exploded all over the marble tiled wall. My orgasm had been unbelievable, hard, intense, and unlike any masturbatory experience I'd ever had before. I'd been doing it everyday since, and having the exact same outcome each time.
I suppose I should feel a little bad about doing it, but I didn't. I'd always unashamedly loved sex, the kinkier the better, and if I got off on a smoking hot babe shoving me around and verbally berating me, then so be it. It's not as if I had any control over the things that turned me on, and I wasn't going to apologize for it. After all, it was pretty tame compared to how my sex life used to be, or the way I liked to fuck now, rough, uninhibited, and on my terms. I may be out of the BDSM lifestyle, but I was still a dominant, controlling, and kinky motherfucker in bed, or on the floor, or up against a wall, or a handy piece of furniture, or just about anywhere really. I really needed to get laid.
I snorted out a laugh at myself as I pulled open the door of the office entrance. It was at the back of a converted warehouse that was also the home of The Indigo Room, the city's flagship nightclub that I co-owned
with my best friend, Calder Rennen. I waltzed in and crossed the waiting room with its industrial decor, exposed brick walls, and polished concrete floors as I headed toward the hall that led back to Calder's office.
I didn't have one here, and I was happy about that. I was his silent partner for a reason. I sucked at running a business and knew it. Private investigations and security were more my thing. Calder, on the other hand, had an innate talent for it, always had. I was man enough to admit my limitations, and leave my half of the business and its everyday operation in his more than competent hands. I had the steadily fattening bank account to prove I'd put my trust in the right man, despite my parent's very vocal doubts when we started R&C LTD six years ago. Eat that, Mom and Dad.
"Hi, Scott," Gwen, R&C's General Manager said from her desk behind the open sliding glass window to my left. "Calder's still meeting with a promoter right now out on the club floor, but he should be done soon."
Gwen was a strikingly beautiful woman of Indian descent with her long thick black hair, big intensely green eyes, and warm dusky skin. I knew she was in her early forties, but she didn't look it one damn bit. I still had a hard time believing she had a son in his early twenties.
"Cool," I replied with a sharp nod, then headed past her down the short hallway toward the partly open door at the end. I peered inside.
There sitting behind Calder's huge mahogany desk was a familiar tall and skinny eleven-year-old girl with her flaxen hair pulled up into cute braided pigtails. A tablet and a bunch of school books were spread across the desk in front of her. I grinned and pushed the door open the rest of the way.
"Wow, Violet," I said with a grin. "You've only been a Rennen for two weeks, and you've already taken over the business."
Her face popped up, and she graced me with her glorious smile and sparkling dark-green eyes as I stepped into the room. "Hi, Uncle Scott," she cried out happily.
She hopped out of her chair and rounded the desk, then rushed across the space between us, plowing into me as she wrapped her arms around me for a hug. I hugged her right back. I loved this kid. Everyone who knew her loved her. Who wouldn't? She was so sweet and affectionate, and fucking hilarious.
Last summer, her mother came back into Calder's life, rekindling a lost love from thirteen years ago. Calder had married Ella in December in a simple courthouse ceremony, and then preceded to adopted Violet as his own, a long process that had just been finalized two weeks ago. Her biological father had been an abusive piece of shit criminal who faked his own death, then kidnapped Violet and tried to kill Ella. Calder saved Violet when her cornered and desperate father fell through the floor of the abandoned building we'd confronted him in and tried to drag his own daughter down with him. The fucker ended up falling to his death, and got what he deserved.
Needless to say, I knew Violet was happy to rid herself of that bastard's last name, and have a father who loved and took care of her like she deserved. This kid and her mother had come into my best friend's life and made him happier than I'd ever seen him in the eleven years since we met in rehab. I was happy for all three of them.
"You are the shortest CEO I have ever seen, kid," I told her as she stepped back from our embrace. I smirked at the mock glare she shot up at me. "And the cutest," I added with a wink. "Tell me, are you planning on taking over my half too or are you going to stop with overthrowing your father?"
She grinned wickedly. "Dad says I'm going to take over the whole world someday, so that would be a big fat no."
I glanced over at her school work spread across the desk. "What are you studying today? World Domination or Hostile Takeovers?"
She giggled, then rolled her eyes and groaned dramatically. "Fractions," she answered in disgust.
"Do you need help?" I offered. "I'm pretty good at math."
She eyed me with a calculating expression. Uh-oh, I knew that look. She was up to something.
"What if I gave you ten dollars to do it for me?" she asked with an adorable pleading expression. It was a weapon she knew how to wield with precision and skill. Even I wasn't immune to its power. Shit.
"Violet Marie Rennen," came a stern deep male voice from behind us. "Are you seriously trying to pay Uncle Scott to do your homework?"
We both turned to see Calder standing in the doorway in a dark-gray suit with his arms crossed, and his piercing crystalline blue eyes fixed on his daughter in a disapproving expression. At six-foot-three, he was an intimidating site with his broad muscular upper body, dark almost black short hair, and perfectly trimmed goatee.
"Uh...no?" she replied with a grimace. I stifled a snort of laughter, for fear I'd piss her off. That kid could glare better than anyone I knew. It was downright terrifying, and I didn't want it turned on me.
"Good," he said, his lips quirking up into a slight smirk of amusement. "I'd hate to have to tell your mother about it."
"Tell me what?" a female voice asked from behind Calder, who turned to reveal a flaxen-haired beauty standing in the hall, her steel blue eyes narrowed on Violet.
Ella was a tall slender woman, only a couple of inches shorter than me with a flawless oval face and a fair complexion. Calder had gotten himself a gorgeous wife, and I'd be jealous, if I didn't think so little of the institution of marriage. Theirs was solid and strong, but I'd seen the flip side to that coin with my parents and had the subsequent jaded opinion to prove it.
Calder's face got that soft yearning expression he always had when he looked at his wife. I'd never seen my father look at Mom like that. To be honest, I was in wonder of my best friend's relationship. I'd never been exposed to one like it.
"Your daughter was attempting to pay Scott ten bucks to do her homework," Calder told Ella with a smirk as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"It was just a joke, Mom," she told Ella in a pleading and genuine tone.
"Good, because I'd hate to have to ground you from your tablet for a month," Ella replied as she arched a brow at her daughter.
Violet blanched and her eyes widened in horror. I couldn't help snickering a little at her. Suddenly, that glare I was trying to avoid was now directed at me. Yikes. I grimaced apologetically.
"Get your stuff packed up, baby," Ella told her as she grinned at my interaction with Violet. "It's time to get you home, so Dad can get some work done."
I knew Ella had late college classes for her business degree on Wednesdays, so Calder must have picked Violet up from school today and brought her to the office for her mom to pick up afterwords.
"Okay, Mom." Violet scurried over to the desk to gather up her things, her ire with me already forgotten and forgiven. She was a good kid.
Within moments, she had her purple backpack over her shoulder and was saying goodbye with hugs for both Calder and me. Calder kissed Ella briefly, yet heatedly, then watched them leave with a tender wistful expression. The man had it bad.
"What?" he asked when he noticed me grinning indulgently at him.
"You are adorable." A smirk pulled at the corner of my lips.
He shot a glare at me that faded quickly, then shook his head with a smirk of his own as he walked past me to his desk. "Is this visit for business or pleasure?" he asked as he sat down.
"I thought I'd check in since I was in the neighborhood," I replied as dropped into a chair across the desk from him. "And I had to make sure you're not fucking slacking off and running the business into the ground."
He snorted out a laugh. "Yeah, that's me. A lazy fucking slacker."
All kidding aside, Calder was the hardest-working man I knew, and our business flourished accordingly. The man was a beast. Anyone who conquered a heroin addiction like he did had to be.
We sat and shot the shit for a few minutes about work and our families before I eventually excused myself, knowing he had work to do. I walked out, planning on heading home to gather some cyber intelligence on an insurance fraud case I was working on. I was halfway down the hall when I heard a female voice coming from the end of th
e hallway.
"I'm Detective Tavarez," the very familiar alto voice said as I froze in stunned surprise. "I was wondering if I could speak to whoever is in charge here."
Holy fucking shit. It was Lu.
"May I ask what it's in regard to?" Gwen asked.
My ears pricked. I was curious about it too. Was she here looking for me? I grinned at that thought. I'd love to spend more time with that sexy as all hell woman.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not at liberty to discuss it with anyone else."
"Oh...uh...okay," Gwen replied. "That would be Mr. Rennen then. Let me see if he's available.
A second later, I heard Calder's phone ringing behind me through his still partly open door. I listened as Gwen explained to him who was here, and I heard him tell her to send Lu back to his office. Oh, shit. I didn't want her to see me. I swiftly moved toward the door of the conference room I was standing next to and slipped inside. I closed the door, leaving it open just a crack, so I could watch the hall.
A moment after, Lu walked down the hall toward Calder's office door with sure and confident strides. She was wearing a sleek black pants suit that made her ass look amazing and those same sexy black boots from the other night. Her long silky dark hair hung in soft waves down her back that I itched to touch. Yum. She looked delicious and badass. I ogled her backside as she knocked on the office door. Calder called out to invite her in, and she disappeared inside.
At this point, a decent guy would have just left. Luckily, I wasn't one. In my line of work, being a decent guy didn't get the job done. I let my curiosity lead the way and stepped back into the hall, then headed straight for the office door. Thankfully, it was still hanging open a few inches, and I quietly settled in with my ear next to the door to eavesdrop.
Tempting Calm Waters Page 4
