by WL Knightly
“Everyone is the type. In this world today, you really think there is a type? Motivation. That’s all a person needs.”
“The guy lives with his sister, for Pete’s sake.”
“So?”
“I’m just saying, I think we have other leads to follow. Like the tattoo artist. There was tattoo ink in that room. She’d just had a session. Most likely, he’s our man.”
“And you’re so sure this is a man?”
“Something that brutal against a woman? Are you kidding me? The strength alone would be tough for a woman, not to mention the level of violence.”
“The toxicology report said the girl was most likely in a euphoric state. So, all bets are off. Not to mention, she was found face down and was most likely compliant to a degree.”
“Compliant? To being murdered?”
“I’m saying that the girl could have been under the rule of her master to be still and take her punishment.”
“You know way too much about that sadistic shit.” Darek knew the two of them weren’t going to agree on anything, so he took a cue from his personal life and shut his mouth. He didn’t feed into Megan’s arguing, and he damned sure wasn’t going to feed into Lizzy’s. Something Tad said or did set her off, and he wasn’t taking the ass chewing for it.
“It’s called being informed.” She must have decided not to argue anymore as well, and the two headed back to the station where Max met them at the door.
“No luck on the security footage. It seems to be missing.”
Lizzy threw her hands up and leaned against the door jamb. “Shit! What luck.”
“Were you able to get anything?” Darek asked. Max gave Lizzy a sideward glance. “Don’t mind her; she’s been in a pissy mood.”
“Here, it’s all in the report,” Max said. “I’m going to snag an early lunch. You guys headed out to interview more escorts?”
“Yeah, after I grab a bite,” Darek said.
“I’ve got to call and make sure my reservations are in order,” Lizzy said. “I’m flying out for the weekend, so if you happen to get anything, don’t call me. I’ll get it when I get back.” She hurried away, heading to the chief’s office, leaving Darek to look over the report alone.
He looked down at the envelope, hoping like hell what he found inside wouldn’t be familiar. The last thing he needed was another visit to an old friend.
11
Darek
Saturdays were supposed to be fun, but ever since he’d started going to see his mother at the convalescence home, he hated them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his mother, but it was always so hard.
He took his time getting out of bed and showering, but he was surprised when he went to the kitchen and found that Megan had the coffee maker ready with his cup and his special blend. All he had to do was push the power button and wait for it to pour.
He almost fell for the generosity, too, but soon, he learned it wasn’t that she was trying to make things easier on him, but on herself.
“You sure you don’t want to go down there with me?” he asked.
“No, Darek. I can’t go there. Those old people stare, and they tug at my heartstrings. It’s too emotional. No thanks, but send my love.” Her emotional grid was void, and he’d had enough of it.
He huffed. “No worries. I’m sure she doesn’t miss you. She probably doesn’t even remember you exist.” He wished he could forget it at times himself. Especially when she was in one of her moods.
“Well, that’s not a nice thing to say. If that’s how it is, then don’t fucking ask me to go along with you. Besides, you knew I already made plans to go shopping.” She got up from the table and went to their bedroom where she slammed the door.
He took his coffee on the road and drove down to Pine Grove where his mother had a small room and one window, which she loved to sit and stare out of. Her view was a parking lot and a small strip of grass with one tree and a bird feeder.
He sat next to her in the most uncomfortable chair as she rocked in hers. The room was always kept dim, and what light they had was from the sunlight and a small lamp beside her bed.
She hadn’t even said more than hello, and he knew by the lost gaze in her eyes that she had no idea who he was.
He wished he could check out of life like she had, and he supposed in some ways, he did now and then. The shrink had called it repressed memories and wanted to work with him to retrieve them. But he knew the past in his head was best kept a secret.
He wondered if there were thoughts lingering in his mother’s head. What kind of dark secrets had she kept bottled up all these years? He knew they weren’t as awful as his and only wished he could remember things exactly as they happened that night.
All he knew was the twelve of them had gotten together, and he’d tried to save the girl. Bay had wanted them to have power. And for some reason, even though he knew what Bay was preaching wasn’t gospel, he’d wanted to be strong and fit in so badly that he’d—he did it, didn’t he? He’d had a hand in it somehow, but he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t put in that last piece of the puzzle. He remembered finding her there, face-down on the millstone. The two of them were alone. She was so small on the large stone. Her body was barely moving, twitching as her eyes went glassy and a single tear slid down her nose. She was still alive.
He’d grabbed her, scooping her up into his arms. The blood that seeped out of her wounds coated his arms, and it was so cold. The rise and fall of her chest were so labored, but he told himself to run. Run! Faster. He’d encouraged himself to keep his feet moving, although he’d wanted to stop and drop her. He had to put her somewhere she would be safe. Somewhere she’d be found. He wasn’t thinking clearly. If anyone had found her alive, his dreams would have been much different. But he wasn’t the villain, was he? He was the hero. Or at least, he’d tried to be.
Her body stilled, and once he slowed down enough to realize it, he looked down to see her arm dangling lifelessly. Her blood covered them both, and one tear remained on her cheek. Her eyes had set into a permanent stare. She was dead.
He stopped in a clearing just inside the woods in the back of the diner where he’d met Bay Collins. He’d leave her there, and someone would find her. Her family would have peace.
He walked back to the millhouse, and instead of going inside, he went down to the water to clean up. He washed the blood off his arms and clothes and then gathered up an old bucket that had one small hole and carried it back and forth to the millhouse to wash her blood from the stone. There was a nasty stain. He looked down and saw that it was no use. His clothes were stained too. He couldn’t go back to camp that way. He was wondering what to do when he heard a whistle. He looked up and saw Bay standing in the clearing with Carter and Logan. “What did you do with her?”
“Mr. Blake?” Carla, the nurse on staff, stuck her head in the door.
“Yes?” He stood up as the woman waved her hand dismissively.
“I was just making sure your visit was going well.”
“It’s not a good day, but it’s not the worst.” His mother had a few violent episodes when she’d gotten confused, and those had been horrifying.
“Good. Let’s be thankful for that much. Enjoy your time. I’ll be back in about an hour to get her ready for dinner.” She shut the door and continued down the hall, her footsteps falling heavily on the tile floor.
He turned back to his mother, who hadn’t even noticed the woman had come and gone, and then he let loose a long breath. His memories of that night had always started in the same place, and the paralyzing fear of being caught stayed with him for days, even after Bay and the others had made up their cover story.
They’d taken his clothes, everything but his underwear, and weighed them down with some heavy rocks. Then they tossed them in the creek and hurried back to camp with a story. They’d tricked him into taking a swim and then stolen his clothes. It had been Bay’s idea, and even though it was humiliating for Darek, it had worked. I
f only he could remember what he’d done before that.
Maybe if he could, it would help him with the new case. Perhaps something would connect, and he’d solve the thing in a matter of weeks instead of months. Then he’d get that new job with the FBI. He could see him and Megan happy like they used to be. With any luck, they’d start a family, and he’d give Megan everything she’d dreamed of when she agreed to be his wife. She might even be pleasant again.
He couldn’t wait to be a father. He’d be much better than his own had been. That was for sure.
The thought of having children made him miss his own mother, and he knew the woman would never meet them.
Carla came back an hour later and prepared his mother for her trip down to the cafeteria. She had seemed excited at first about having a place to go, but then, she blanked out again. He couldn’t stand to see it. His father had gotten off easy, dying in his sleep, but his mother had to suffer a horrible disease. Life and death truly weren’t fair.
On his way home, he decided to turn and drive down to the station. He didn’t think Megan was done spending money, so he didn’t want to be home all alone. Lizzy had taken off out of town, and he couldn’t blame her for wanting to get away. He’d see if anything would be waiting for them when they came back on Monday, if not sooner.
He saw the envelope on his desk from across the room and hurried to it. Inside, he found the report on the security footage, and he stared at it again. His heart had sunk like a stone when he saw the name the day before. Lowe’s Security. Of all the security places in the city, the crime scene was under Alan Lowe’s watch? The guy was one of the twelve. The group’s Taurus. Fuck.
He tried to remember what he could about the guy and pictured the younger version, which was what he’d seen last. The guy was about two inches shorter than him, with dark hair and deep brown eyes. He’d heard the guy married years ago and had taken over the security company from his father. His gambling had nearly cost him everything, and Darek couldn’t help but worry about the coincidence of it all. Two names from his past have come up in evidence? Maybe he was overreacting? Maybe it was just coincidence. He’d seen stranger things happen in his time on the force.
He wondered if he should go ahead and call Bay, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to let the guy know there was another connection.
And if he wasn’t careful, his partner could figure it out as well.
12
Darek
The weekend had put Lizzy in a much better mood, and Darek was thankful for that, especially when the chief called them in for a briefing with Sam Reed. The last thing he needed was for them to be at each other’s throats or making snippy comments. He needed things to go well. His future career was on the line.
Sam Reed sat with his leg propped up on his knee, sipping coffee like the most casual man in the world, and Lizzy was next to him, leaning in like the two had some intimate past. Darek still wasn’t convinced they didn’t, but then, maybe she had a way with older men. She was a charmer.
Darek stood against the back wall, and when the chief came back into his office, it was time to get down to business. “My apologies,” he said, taking a seat behind his desk.
Sam cleared his throat. “Now that we’re all here. Tell me what you have. We’re not even going to discuss the recent media slip.” He cut his eyes over to the chief who had no doubt gotten an earful. “Just be careful who you talk to.”
“Well, the tattoo ink that was found at the scene and the fresh ink in her back are a match,” Lizzy said. “So, we know we’re on the right track with that lead. The escorts gave us nothing. Rounding them up was much harder than expected and a huge waste of time.”
Darek was surprised to hear her say so but wasn’t about to comment.
“Have you gotten anything from the tattoo artists?” Reed asked.
Darek thought it was time to speak up. “No, sir. Not yet. But we need to make another round. We have clearer images and hope that it helps people get a better look. Not to mention that we’re hoping to catch new artists on shift. The department has had several men on it.”
Sam turned and gave him a scolding look. “I want you and Lizzy on it. See if there were any shops the others think you should focus in on. Hit them again, and grill whoever you can. Someone knows something.”
“It’s a fairly tight community,” Lizzy said. “The shops are a bit competitive at times. They have competitions, and all of them want to be the top parlor or have the top artist. We’ll find something.” Lizzy told him everything he wanted to hear and earned the smile to prove it.
Sam clapped her on the back. “I’m sure you will. What’s with the security footage being missing?”
Darek cleared his throat. “It happens, sir. I’m going to check into it, though. Hopefully, the security company has something in their archives that might help. It’s a stretch, but you never know.”
“Good thinking, Blake.” Sam stood up and shook his hand. After wishing them well, he left them alone with the chief.
“Get out there and catch this bastard,” the chief said. Then he got up and headed to the coffee pot.
“So, you changed your mind about the escort?” Darek asked, referring to Tad.
“No, I still think he’s a creepy SOB, but, I want to wait and see if any of the other evidence points back at him. If not, then I’ll change my mind.”
They walked out of the chief’s office and continued down the hall side by side. They had a lot of stops for the day, and thanks to Max, they had a pretty good idea where to start.
Pinkie’s Ink was located in an old tobacco shop where Darek had bought a friend some cigars several years ago. He was surprised that the place still smelled the same, but the looks had changed. The walls were painted black, and there was a huge pink and black dragon hanging from the ceiling and lots of canvas art hanging on the walls. A large, pink leather sofa was in front of a black-lacquered coffee table where there was a stack of photo albums and books.
The lady behind the counter was bleached blonde with pink tips, and she had a silver stud in the space between her chin and bottom lip. She frowned when she saw them come in. “Can I help you?”
Her attitude was unnerving, and she seemed a bit hostile.
“Yeah, we’d like to talk to you about Alicia David,” Darek said.
“I already told your friends that I don’t know her. And I don’t want to see her picture again; the damned thing’s been giving me nightmares.”
“We have a cleaner version, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to look at it.” Lizzy walked up to the counter and took out the photo.
The woman backed away, giving her a hard stare. “I’ll look. But I better not see those stab wounds again.” She took a deep breath and looked down at the image of the tattoo. Suddenly, she put her hand to her mouth and then pushed the picture toward Lizzy.
The girl’s already pallid complexion turned even whiter. “I can tell you exactly who did this tattoo.” She held her arm across her stomach as if she might be sick.
“Is it someone you know?” Lizzy asked.
“I know him, but not well. His name is Victor Barnes. He owns Victory tattoos downtown.”
Darek and Lizzy exchanged a look, and he leaned in across the counter and pointed to the picture. “You can tell that by looking at this tattoo? This is a heavy allegation. Are you absolutely positive?”
The woman took a minute to regain her composure and then pointed to the image. “See this?”
Darek looked at the picture and saw the place on the tattoo she’d indicated. “Is that a mistake?” he asked. There was a small, V-shaped mark close to the outline of the wheel. It was so small that it almost looked like a mistake.
“No, it’s a signature. An artist’s trademark, if you will. V as in Victor.”
“I’ve never heard of an artist signing their work before.” Lizzy looked as puzzled as Darek felt.
“Yeah, I’ve never heard of that, either,” he said. “Is tha
t done often?”
The woman shook her head. “No, it’s not. Most artists frown on it. We take pride in our work, but we also consider we’re marking someone’s body. It’s not about our ego. Our work speaks for itself. But Victor, he’s a little bit of an egomaniac. He’s also got some other hobbies that are questionable. You’ll have to talk to him. He’s a freak.”
“A freak?” Lizzy asked. “As in a creepy guy? A pervert?”
“Deviant. He’s what some could call controlling.”
“You don’t mind if I get your name?” Lizzy took out a pen.
“Yolanda Peters. People call me Pinkie. But I don’t want people knowing I ratted this guy out.”
“Don’t worry, Pinkie,” Darek said. “Your secret is safe with us. Besides, it could have been anyone.” Darek took out the other photos, and sure enough, the mark hadn’t been visible with all the blood. The small V would have been easily recognizable otherwise.
Lizzy took out her list and pointed to the man’s name and address. “I’ve got him. Looks like the others went by. The note says the owner wasn’t in.” She looked back up at Pinkie. “When you say deviant, you mean sexual deviant, right?”
She let out a nervous laugh. “Trust me, lady. You’ll see when you get there. Be sure to go all the way into the shop. The back room is a sight you gotta see. I went once with a friend when he first opened. I’d heard some things. Was curious, maybe nosey is a better word, but let me tell you. We ain't been back.”
Lizzy thanked Pinkie, and she and Darek were on their way.
Lizzy practically bounced in her seat. “This is it, I can feel it. Our first big crack in the case. The guy was there; he’s either the killer or had something to do with it.”
Darek noticed the way she gripped the wheel with determination. Her smile spread her cheeks so wide, it made his own face hurt.
