“Ellwood Park? At night? By herself?”
“I’m at a loss for words, man. Kids are stupid. They think they’re invincible.”
“But doesn’t it strike you as risky on the kidnapper’s part to yank some kid up from the sidewalk like that at what, ten o’clock? I know the area’s bad news, but still…”
Tucker shrugged. “Crappy neighborhood. Nobody gives a shit. There weren’t any other witnesses, or at least no one else came forward. Seemed to work for them. Their method has worked for them every time, whether it be ten at night or four thirty in the afternoon, like with Abby.”
Jackson made a sound in his throat and took another sip from his mug. “Did Ethan find a profile on anyone else? What about Abby?”
“No. At least not yet. He’s still digging, but this is a damn good lead.”
Jackson nodded. “I agree. When we find out who this guy is, it’ll only be a matter of time before he leads us to Abby.”
“I’m going to talk to a friend on the force out in LA, see if she’d be willing to play decoy. I think we should set up a profile of our own. We might get a hit.”
“Good idea—”
The knock at the door cut Jackson off. Alex peeked her head in and met his eyes. “Am I interrupting?”
“No, come on in.” Jackson’s stomach clutched as she sent him a smile. Damn, she took his breath away. Despite Olivia waking them four hours after they lay down, Alex appeared rested. Alex smiled again while he stared at her in her snug blue jeans and light blue Sagawa Elementary PTO t-shirt, remembering the way she’d come alive in his arms before the sun came up. They had burned up the sheets more times than he could count in their college days, but it had been different last night; they had been different last night. Each touch and taste had meant more. He had taken their relationship for granted before. He would never make the same mistake again. “Where’s Liv?”
“She wanted Grammy to French braid her hair so she could be a real princess for the annual Matthew’s Neighborhood Barbeque this afternoon. I guess my regular braids aren’t good enough.” She chuckled.
He grinned. “A princess wants what a princess wants.”
“This is true.” She moved closer to the desk. “I thought I would pop in and see if Ethan had any more news on those websites.”
“Actually, he found a few things. Tucker and I were just discussing it.”
“That’s great.”
He loved watching her eyes brighten. “We’re looking into a couple of dating sites Detective Canon and his taskforce keep an eye on.”
She frowned. “But what does that have to do with Abby?”
“Honestly, we’re not sure yet, but we can’t afford to overlook anything.”
“What about Renzo? I thought you said you had something.” The light had vanished from her eyes.
“We do, but this doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with Renzo. That’ll take some time to figure out.”
“Oh.” She sat on the couch by the fireplace with a barely perceptible huff.
“One of the young women who vanished before Abby had a profile on Baltimore Dates. She was corresponding with someone on a regular basis up until the week she disappeared. The conversations follow a pretty classic pattern used by somebody fishing for a victim. This has sex trafficking written all over it, Alex. We haven’t connected all the pieces yet, but this has serious potential.” Maybe it was unfair to get her hopes up, but he truly believed this might be their big break. A bump on the right card could bring the whole house tumbling down.
“Abby wasn’t into online dating. She tried it once a couple years back. Her first and only experience turned out to be a disaster. The guy she went out with was an obnoxious chauvinist. She left the restaurant through the kitchen, and that was the end of that. Besides, Abby doesn’t have any trouble attracting a date if and when she wants one.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but there’s a connection somehow. Kristen converses with a potential lure in a sex ring and disappears a week later in an identical way to your sister. There’s definitely something here.” He looked at Tucker, who nodded his agreement.
“I guess.” She stood and started toward the door. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
He snagged her hand as she moved passed and pulled her to him, slinging his arm around her waist. “Take my word for it.” He ran his hand up and down her back as he looked her in the eye. “This is the first time we have a serious lead to follow. Answers are waiting for us somewhere in cyberspace. Trust me on this.”
“Of course I do.”
His hand stilled on her back. “Good.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Keep it up.”
Her fingers curled into his shirt. They both knew he wasn’t speaking of Abby’s case. He held her gaze as Tucker’s computer made a pinging noise, alerting them to a new e-mail.
“From Ethan,” Tucker said. “He sent us—well, son of a fucking… Take a look at this.” Tucker turned the laptop. The grainy image Jackson had snapped of the man dancing with the underage girl at Club Jericho had been cleaned up and filled the left side of Tucker’s screen. Another cropped photograph of the same black-haired, brown-eyed man filled the right side.
“Bingo,” Jackson muttered. He read aloud the small caption attached at the bottom. “This is Tim Monroe. He’s a freelance fashion photographer with numerous connections in the modeling industry. According to Ethan, Tim and Renzo’s names overlapped on several different occasions—they worked several of the same runway shows, snapped photos at many of the same shoots. Oh, and isn’t this interesting. He also has a profile on Baltimore Dates. This is the picture on the right.” He flicked his finger toward the screen. “Of course, Ethan couldn’t find anything overly alarming in his interactions with women eighteen years of age or older, except on more than one occasion he’s checked out the foreigners Canon’s taskforce keeps an eye on.” He looked at Tucker.
Alex leaned closer to the laptop, studying Ethan’s latest e-mail. “What does this mean exactly?”
“It means we’ve got a few big coincidences here. Tim Monroe has an eye for young girls and foreign women, and he has a connection to Renzo. He also has a connection to the same dating website Kristen was affiliated with. Ethan’s going to have to do some more work.”
Alex stood straight. “Is Tim Monroe the one who was corresponding with Kristen?”
“We can’t be sure. Monroe’s profile name is PhotoShop, but the person who potentially lured and arranged Kristen’s disappearance is Crazy80.”
“Then how can you say this is connected? What if Tim Monroe just happens to have a profile on Baltimore Dates? Baltimore is a large city; it’s not that hard to fathom. Many singles look for love online.”
“True, but not all singles are professionally connected to a man who was dating your sister just a few weeks before she disappeared. And how many do you think go to clubs to flirt with young girls when there are literally hundreds of legal adults surrounding them. If Monroe is looking for love, he isn’t looking in the right places—unless he’s a trafficker.” Jackson’s excitement built as he glanced from Alex to Tucker. This was going to be their big break. “I’m willing to bet my house that Tim and Renzo have something to do with Abby and Kristen’s disappearance.”
“Then let’s call Detective Canon.” Alex reached for the landline.
Jackson settled his hand on top of hers, holding the receiver in place. “Not yet. Give us some time to toss this around.”
“We’re wasting time by ‘tossing this around.’ You’re theory makes perfect sense.”
“I’m with Jackson on this one,” Tucker supplied. “I don’t see dissecting the angles as wasting time. The taskforce would definitely check out what we pass along, but unless they find a solid connection between Cruz, Monroe, and Zachary Hartwel
l, they’re not going to touch it. Plus, Canon will just get bitchy knowing we still have our noses in on this when he’s told Jackson to back off. Cops are real bastards that way.”
Temper darkened Alex’s blue eyes. “Well that’s unacceptable. This isn’t a game of yours or mine. My sister is suffering.”
Jackson pulled her rigid hand from the phone and held it in his. “Now that we have something absolutely solid… We won’t give up until Abby’s home, Alex. I promise.” He gave her icy fingers a gentle squeeze. “Tucker’s going to call one of his former co-workers, a detective with LAPD, and ask her if she’s willing to be our decoy—off the record.”
“Decoy?”
“Yeah, you know, set up an account on Baltimore Dates and pose as a young woman traffickers would find interesting.”
“I’ll do it.”
He could only stare as Alex’s words froze his heart. “No.”
“Yes.” She yanked her hand from his grip. “This is a great idea.”
“Forget it. Absolutely not.” His heart now shuddered as trickles of unease grew to full bloom.
“Tucker’s friend lives in LA. I’m right here. I want to do this for Abby.”
“Melinda’s a cop, Alex,” Tucker interjected. “She does decoy work all the time.”
“Melinda’s sister isn’t missing.” She seared Tucker with a look.
“Drop it,” Jackson snapped, recognizing the unshakable determination in Alex’s voice. “We’re wasting time arguing about something that isn’t an option.”
“Why?” She focused her frosty stare on him. “Because you say so.”
“Damn straight. Case closed.”
“But Abby’s isn’t.”
“We won’t get to the bottom of her disappearance any faster if we have to worry about your safety too. You’re staying out of this. Tucker, call Melinda.”
Alex held Jackson’s gaze a moment longer, and then walked out.
Jackson stared down the hall while Tucker spoke to Melinda, feeling no better about the situation. Alex had let that go too easily, much like she did the night she’d convinced him to bring her to the clubs. There was no way in hell she was changing his mind this time. One wrong move is all it would take for Alex to find herself in as much trouble as Abby or Kristen Moore.
Laughter and noise from the barbeque flowed through the open windows as Alexa shut the office door behind her. She leaned back against the dark, glossy wood, swallowing the vile taste of deception as she stared at Tucker’s laptop and the small stack of papers beside it. Sighing, she closed her eyes. She hated what she was about to do, but she couldn’t think of another way. God knows she tried while she nibbled BBQ chicken and mingled with guests in Jack’s parents’ backyard, but nothing had come to mind. Jack had left her little choice when he said no earlier this morning. No wasn’t an option she could live with. Abby was lost out there. If this could bring her home...
She stood straight, huffing out a breath. She was wasting time. Who knew how long it would be before Tucker or Jack came up to check in with Ethan again? Alexa shoved away her regret as she walked toward George’s beautiful antique desk, watching the breeze catch the edges of the printouts she intended to study. This is for Abby, she reminded herself when her pulse kicked into high gear. She licked her dry lips, knowing that once she started the wheels turning, there would be no going back.
She reached for the papers but jerked her hand away, standing perfectly still, as footsteps echoed on the stairs. Her breath came faster, and she glanced over her shoulder, staring at the doorknob, waiting for someone to enter. What would she say? She had no reason for being in George’s office. Tucker or Jack would more than likely see through her phony explanations—her lies. Surely that was what she was doing—telling lies. She pressed a hand to her queasy stomach, struggling to ignore her guilty conscience, as whoever had come up the stairs went back down.
She was a hypocrite, plain and simple. She always touted the importance of telling the truth to Livy and her students, yet she was taking the first steps down the road of deception. Her shame only compounded when she caught site of Jack and Livy through the window, sitting in a lawn chair by the docks. Jack took Livy’s dripping vanilla cone from undoubtedly sticky fingers and licked around the melting edges, then he handed it back to her. He was such a good daddy, such a good man, and she was going behind his back. “I’m sorry, Jack,” she muttered as she clasped her hand around her necklace and looked away.
There was no one she wanted to hurt less. She loved him, but she loved Abby too. Her sister had slipped through their fingers. They were running out of chances to bring her home. How long would the sex ring wait before they shipped her overseas, if they hadn’t already? Desperate times called for desperate measures, and what she was doing fell under that heading.
Bolstered by her justifications, Alexa reached for the papers again. She lifted the pretty shell Tucker used as a paperweight with trembling fingers, mindful to remember the order in which she took sheets from the stack. She scanned the first two pages—e-mail correspondences between Ethan and Tucker—and set them on the desk. She studied Timothy Monroe’s Department of Motor Vehicles picture, and then moved on to the copy of his information from Baltimore Dates. “PhotoShop,” she murmured as she read his profile name, interests, hobbies, and philosophies on life. Interesting, but not what she was looking for. She flipped again until she stared at the photo of the beautiful girl with blonde hair and brown eyes—LoveGoddess17.
Kristen looked different from the pictures Alexa had seen on the Missing Children’s Websites and local news. Here she appeared older; the hint of desperation and defiance in her eyes was unmistakable, but she was just a baby—barely seventeen. A swift kick of anger melded with sorrow. This was so wrong. Everything about this entire situation was wrong for Kristen and Abby.
Kristen should’ve been home getting ready for a date to the movies or sunbathing by a pool with her best girlfriend, not dealing with the traumas of prostitution and sex slavery. Alexa slammed the paper to the desk, growing angrier by the second, and studied the shadowy photograph of the man known as Crazy80. The strong jaw and sharp cheekbones hinted at a handsome face, but it was hard to tell with his dark shades and ball cap pulled low on his head. He could be anyone, but he wasn’t Timothy Monroe or Renzo. The features she could make out didn’t fit either man, but that didn’t mean Crazy80 didn’t know Timothy and Renzo.
She tore her gaze from the mysterious face and read his generic profile. Next she read the conversations Kristen Moore had had with him. Her breathing grew shallow as she scanned the words of a young woman in crisis and the slimy promises of someone who knew what a girl desperate for love and attention would want to hear. “Bastard,” she hissed as her eyes filled. Crazy80 was a bastard of the lowest form. He’d reeled Kristen in with false promises, and now she was paying the ultimate price.
The sticky clutches of guilt troubling Alexa lessened as she stacked the papers neatly and replaced the paperweight. She needed to do this. She had to help Abby and Kristen and as many other victims as she could. Hopefully this would be the beginning of the end for all of them. If the answers to her sister’s disappearance were floating in cyberspace as Jack said, she was going to find them. She grabbed a sheet of paper from the printer and jotted down the Baltimore Dates URL along with the links to Timothy Monroe’s and Crazy80’s profiles, although the latter’s had been disabled shortly after Kristen disappeared, according to the notes Ethan sent.
She shoved the paper in her pocket and glanced out the window again. She did a double take as she noticed the empty lawn chair. Where did Jack and Livy go? She scanned the crowds of people talking and laughing in groups around picnic tables or the small fire pit until she found them on the dock. Despite everything, a smile tugged at her lips. Jack held Livy on his lap, but a fishing pole had replaced the dripping i
ce cream cone in her hands. Alexa’s heart melted as she stared at her baby girl smiling up at her daddy.
Forgetting herself, Alexa walked closer to the window, drawn by the sweet scene Jack and Livy made. He was so perfect and kind. “Handsome Jack,” she whispered, as she had so many times before when he filled her heart to bursting.
He loved Livy. He loved her.
It was safer and certainly less scary to believe he’d said what he did because he’d been caught up in the heat of passion, but while they lay together in the wee hours of the morning, holding hands with their daughter snuggled between them, she’d had no choice but to accept that he meant every word. He’d never gotten over her; he’d never stopped loving her.
Alexa stepped back from the glass and sighed as she pressed her hand to the paper in her pocket. Would he be able to forgive her for this? From the beginning, their relationship had been built on trust. Would such a blatant deception ruin what they were working to get back? She needed to believe he would understand. She thought of her sister’s screams of terror and whispered pleadings for help. “I’m coming for you, Ab. No matter what, I’m coming for you.”
Turning her back to the window, she walked from the room and closed the door behind her.
“Night, night, Lovely Livy. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay, Mommy.” Livy puckered up for her kiss.
Alexa leaned in and pressed her lips to her daughter’s. “Snuggle up, sweetie.” She tucked the light cotton sheet up to Livy’s chest.
“I want to write a book about fishing with daddy,” Livy announced as Alexa settled herself more comfortably on the edge of the bed for their nightly bedtime chat.
Forever Alexa (Book Four In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series) Page 23
