BOOKER Box Set #2 (A Private Investigator Thriller Series of Crime and Suspense): Volumes 4-6

by John W. Mefford

“And you want us to find out why?”

  “Yes. Who, why, how. Everything you can. That’s the only way we’ll be able to deal with this shit and try to piece our lives back together.”

  I checked the time on the phone, saw that it was after two in the morning, and made a couple of mental notes.

  “Are you worried about us paying you? I’m a saver. We got extra money stashed away. Don’t be worrying about that.”

  “That’s fine. No concerns. Alisa or I will send a contract to you tomorrow. Real quickly, just so I can start thinking about the timeline, when did you say Jade went missing?”

  “I didn’t. The last time we saw her was a week ago yesterday.”

  My eyes locked with Alisa’s, both of us staring blankly, making the obvious connection to when Natalie had last been seen by her roommate, Sarah.

  “Was she alone?”

  “Didn’t tell us who she was meeting up with. Frankly, we really don’t know any of her friends other than Natalie. Don’t even know if she’d been dating. If she was, he’s not come to our house,” he said. “Last week she just went out on the town like she’s done a million times. Never came home. Didn’t alarm us too much at first. She’s done that a whole bunch. That’s one of the reasons she moved out a while back. So this time we tried to be more open-minded and not jump to conclusions. Sad irony. I wonder if we’d acted faster, if there would have been any way to stop her from being…you know.”

  “I can’t imagine how difficult a time this is for you and your wife. Blaming yourself, though, won’t help. Someone took Jade’s life. They are to blame. They will be punished.”

  Bucky nodded, closed his eyes for a second, and released a breath. “Thank you.” He looked to his left. “Can I go now?”

  Helmet Hair opened his arms and mouth, glancing at me then back to Bucky. “Your vitals are looking better. Technically, I can’t stop you from not going to the hospital. But I think you should.”

  “It’s late. Let’s call it a day and all go get some sleep,” Bucky said, swinging his legs over the side of the gurney.

  The paramedics removed the IV and unhooked every other tube and wire connected to Bucky.

  “Would you mind if we dropped by tomorrow?” I asked. “We’d like to look through Jade’s room, try to find something that will give us an idea of what she did in her spare time, who she hung out with.”

  Bucky glanced over his shoulder at Alisa. “It might be too soon for Carol.”

  Alisa raised a conciliatory arm. “I’ve got plenty to do with my day job. No worries. Booker can handle it.”

  I whispered to her, “Thanks.”

  Bucky buttoned his shirt while the paramedics packed up their equipment.

  I heard a couple of mugs clink together behind me. “Finally closing up shop,” Justin said. “Got a long day ahead tomorrow. I’ll be up bright and early prepping the food truck for a midday event they’re holding up at Reverchon Park. So, Alisa, Dax will be working the bar tomorrow.”

  “Great,” she said, with nothing behind it.

  I watched Alisa approach Bucky, whisper something to him, then give him a hug.

  Everyone walked toward the front door, and I sidled up to Bucky. “I’ll have more questions tomorrow. But one more quick thing. Did Jade hold down a day job? She still working at the same coffee shop?”

  “Hell no. Quit that a while ago. She got the same itch Natalie had. No offense,” he said, glancing at my partner. “Jade has…had this vivacious look about her. Someone finally saw in her what her mother and I have seen since the day she was born. In the last few months, she’d been working for a modeling agency. Nothing too big time yet, but she did get a part in a Dairy Queen commercial.”

  “Which agency?” Alisa asked, stopping in her tracks.

  “Uh…begins with a P. Picture something or other.”

  “Picture Perfect Images?” I asked.

  “That’s the one. You’ve heard of it?”

  It felt like a cold, wet rag had touched the back of my neck. “Yes.”

  I locked eyes with Alisa. “We’re making a visit to the PPI offices tomorrow.”

  “Damn straight we are.”

  6

  She brought a trembling hand to her mouth, felt warm air leaving her lungs. She was still alive.

  For now.

  Touching the chilled, metal edging of the foldout cot under her back, a gagging odor infiltrated her senses. She scrunched her face. It smelled like she was lounging in a litter box used by nine cats, and it hadn’t been scooped in a month.

  Nothing like urine being shoved up her nose.

  Wait. A sudden, jolting memory of feeling watched, someone standing over her. No movement, just a presence. She had started rocking back and forth, her head feeling like it would explode into a million pieces, sweat pouring out of every pore in her body. Images floated across her cot—ghostly, transparent figures with mutant features, like she was trapped in some type of Jack Kilborn horror novel.

  Her mind had known it was all a hoax, but she couldn’t help but swipe at the imaginary figures. Self-control was as elusive as a grease-covered pig as she swatted and lunged at flies as big as basketballs and a pink serpent that coiled into a snail.

  Was any of that real?

  She’d felt something bump her lips and nose. And then that high-octane pee scent. Could it have been ammonia? She’d smelled this crap before during her stay in Hotel Hell. Each time, she’d awakened, her heart motoring so fast she thought it might lift her off the floor.

  “Fuck,” she said out loud, trying to raise her body. Restraints kept her tied to the cot.

  No one responded, so she assumed she was all alone in her pitch-dark room.

  She twisted her neck and tried to catch a glimpse over her shoulder. Couldn’t see a damn thing. Her mind cleared a bit, and she heard a familiar hum. It wasn’t an air conditioner or a fan. She searched for a match, her brain sharpening its focus. She let the noise saturate her senses, feeling what it was like to truly be blind. She snapped her fingers. It was power lines. Not sure she could do much with the information, since she was cut off from the free world. But she felt a dose of satisfaction, a smidgeon of hope that her brain had figured something out.

  Just as quickly, she felt a crack in her shot of confidence, realizing her crazy mind had been able to fool her so many times before. She’d always figured out a way to get out of so many predicaments, lived to fight another day. But not this last one. Her manipulative charm had failed her. Big time.

  Licking her lips, her throat felt razor sharp. She couldn’t recall her last drink of water. With the sweat now cold, her face felt like a cracked sidewalk. She was only nineteen, but her inner core had been sapped, worn well beyond its years.

  She hadn’t seen a mirror since she was getting ready for her last jet-setting trip. Clumps of matted hair draped across her chest, reaching the tips of her fingers. The strands felt like day- old spaghetti. She was certain her signature golden locks with hints of brown sugar weren’t suitable for anything more than a haggard, old mop. As her old pals from Nacogdoches might say, “Girl, you look tore up.”

  She took in a shaky breath, thought about how she got here, her pulse peppering the side of her sticky neck. She couldn’t undo the whole journey, but fuck it, why didn’t she listen to that voice in the back of her mind before she took off in the Learjet 35 headed to the East Coast? With nothing left of her vanity and no self-inflicted distractions to avoid facing reality, she knew why—because she was being flown up in a Learjet 35 to see a powerful man. She’d always had a weak spot for luxury, even if a round, ugly man with a foamy mouth had paid for it.

  Which meant there had been expectations. She knew it, but at the time, she refused to listen to that meek existence of the true Natalie…again.

  She took in a breath, hearing herself sniffle. Tears had been shed since she started this journey when she dropped out of high school, but usually they were contrived or in response to smearing her nail p
olish, running out of eye makeup, not having just the right dress for a certain event. As she thought about it now, they were only life’s minor inconveniences. Even when asked to do things she didn’t want to do, her mind created a nice little sock drawer to cram those thoughts and memories into. She’d turned into a professional in so many ways, although she still couldn’t use the real term. Her self-esteem might only be about two inches high, but it was still existent.

  When she was young, maybe five or six years old, her daddy had once played her a song, something about “happiness is Lubbock, Texas, in the rearview mirror.” He’d chuckle, recall when he was younger, spending countless days working in the searing heat, building oil rig platforms on the flat, dried-up creek bed known as west Texas. He’d moved east, attended Stephen F. Austin State University, and fell in love with the Piney Woods and rolling hills of East Texas.

  But that was Natalie’s dad.

  All she’d known since she could remember was the feeling of suffocation, from the sky-high trees to what she saw as closed minds, no one willing or capable of thinking big, of making more of themselves and their hick-ass existence. Even at age six, hearing that song her daddy played might have been when the seed was planted, the idea of leaving that dreary, slow-minded, backwoods existence of Nacogdoches in her own rearview mirror.

  She’d always been enamored with sparkling lights. The mere thought gave her goose bumps, infused her with…hope. She’d never felt comfortable in darkness—her current situation a perfect example. Almost every hour of the last several days had been spent in total darkness. She’d experienced things she couldn’t bear to replay in her mind. In darkness.

  But in some respects, this darkness had served as a cloak. What she couldn’t see couldn’t hurt her, right? Not always, apparently.

  Glitz and glamour had driven every one of her thoughts and goals, the lights of the big city permeating her core while caking on layer upon layer of her fake, self-serving way of life.

  If…no, dammit, when she got out of this hell hole, she would develop her inner self, show compassion and interest in other people, what they were feeling. She would reach out to old friends and make sure she didn’t put others down just to give herself a false sense of self-worth. She would read more—poetry, romance, women’s fiction, even a cozy mystery. She’d always had an inkling to write. Maybe she would finally have the courage to follow through to put words on paper.

  She swallowed back a ripple of emotion, accepting that she missed her mom and dad, even that flawed hometown of hers. She’d once described it to her uppity Dallas friends as “Naconowhere filled with Naconobodies.” What she wouldn’t give right now to hang out at the drive-in theatre, all the young people sitting in lawn chairs in the back of pickup trucks. Many folks tipping back bottles of cheap beer, even a few under age. It was a simple life, one that she’d never appreciated.

  But that would change. All she wanted was a second chance at living the life she was meant to live.

  A sound, like someone smacking sticky, gooey lips. Her neck grew stiff, her ears on high alert. Wasn’t she alone? What kind of animal would release that type of noise?

  An image shot through her fuzzy mind, and she felt her pulse take off, but this sprint wasn’t drug induced.

  “Oh God,” she said as water filled her eyes. Breathing became sporadic as still pictures fused together like metal being soldered, burning a hole through her cloudy mind, coming into full focus.

  Her body had been violated again and again, in ways she would have never fathomed. Rape doesn’t even begin to describe the torture. They’d tried to suck every ounce of self-worth from her body, where she would completely succumb to their every order and desire.

  But she knew they could do so much more. Threats of not surrendering her mind and body would lead to further torture. Or, they said she could have another life in a foreign land—of their choosing—as nothing more than a slave.

  Gripping both fists while she gritted her teeth, she knew she had to stay strong. She couldn’t give up. She couldn’t give in.

  Then she heard a slithering hiss, and her chest exploded.

  7

  Uncoiling his tongue, he licked salty sweat off the side of her cheek, his warm breath bouncing off her clammy skin. He could feel her tremble, sensing sheer dread…which engulfed his body with a sense of fulfillment.

  “My Natalie, you feel cold tonight. Would you like for me to warm you up?”

  “I…I…I…”

  “Cat got your…tongue?” He released a wet chuckle. “Seriously, Natalie. I would have thought by now you’d feel more at ease with our arrangement. Am I just misreading you?”

  He paused and ran a single fingernail down her thigh.

  “Natalie? I’m going to need an answer if I’m able to understand how to proceed.” His voice remained calm, almost playful. He hoped she would finally give in, release all her inhibitions.

  “I…I’m feeling better each day. Thank you for…asking.”

  His breathing stopped for a brief second. Was she finally allowing the power of his aura to take control of her life? So many others had followed the same path. Only a few had failed in their joint mission. But that only made the successes taste that much sweeter.

  And Natalie tasted sweeter than almost any he could recall.

  “You’re giving me hope, Natalie. Hope is a good thing. A very good thing,” he said, circling the cot, brushing up against her arm. He felt her hand reach out, but she wasn’t trying to claw at him.

  “I…I think I finally understand what you’re trying to accomplish. It took me a while, but now I get it.”

  He slid his tongue between his lips. “Go on.”

  “We’re all put on this earth to serve a purpose. My…purpose is to serve you. To fulfill your every desire.”

  “You do know, Natalie, that it can be just as satisfying for you. I’m not selfish. It’s a mutual thing between us.”

  “I know, I know that. It’s just taken me a while to release myself from how society has brainwashed me. I guess you can say I’m a slow learner.”

  He inhaled, taking in a waft of her scent, and then moved his hand across her flat belly. “Don’t be hard on yourself. All of us grow in different ways, different timetables.”

  “Thank you…for understanding,” she said.

  He unlatched the restraints and had his way with her.

  Minutes later, he put his hand on the inverted door handle, then turned over his shoulder to listen. He could hear her teeth rattle like Morse code. But no one would ever hear a signal from the lovely Natalie Lopes. She belonged to him, in every aspect. Her body, her mind, her soul.

  His young prodigy had come a long way. But commitment to the cause was still a distance away. He could feel it. Once it happened, she would disappear from his life. It would be more of a graduation than a goodbye, though.

  He could feel his heart pump in his chest. He was human, that he couldn’t deny. And on some days, he felt almost normal. He admitted to himself that the courting of Natalie had brought immense pleasure and self-gratitude. As a result, she would be a difficult routine to break. He’d known all along it would end, one way or the other. He’d have to let her go.

  And she would choose her ultimate destination.

  8

  A wave of pretty people flooded the lobby, all jabbering away with each other, a few texting on their phone while speaking. The herd of scantily clad men and women—not a soul over the age of twenty-one—appeared to linger just long enough to leave their mark.

  Alisa’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

  “Can you breathe?” she asked without inhaling.

  The mixed bag of perfumes and colognes couldn’t have been any worse if I’d been locked in the bathroom with a gaggle of pyramid-scheme participants at a cosmetics convention.

  I caught the last few words from one of the pack’s stragglers.

  “Oh my God, we could be in a commercial with the stud from th
e number one online soap opera,” one girl said to another. They both looked factory made. “Don’t forget, keep the cheeks tight. Tiara said that’s what they’re looking for. Tight cheeks.”

  “Any idea what the number one online soap opera is?” I asked my sidekick.

  “Of course. You don’t know? Gosh, Booker, where have you been?”

  “Working. Breathing. Living.”

  “I’m just joking. I have no frickin’ clue. My guess is they don’t either.”

  Nudging Alisa with my elbow, I shot her a quick wink. A few hours of sleep, a shower, and a professional onceover had renewed Alisa’s spirit. She seemed mentally refreshed, able to compartmentalize the emotion of not knowing the whereabouts of her baby sister. I was proud, yet not overly surprised. I’d grown accustomed to watching Alisa use adversity as a staircase to address any weaknesses or vulnerabilities. Losing herself in frenzied hysteria would only harm our chances of finding Natalie. Alisa had come to realize that without me saying a word. She made me proud.

  Wearing a sharp, blue-and-white-checkered suit with blue heels and gold stud earrings, she stepped to the right of the receptionist’s all-white desk to a peculiar plant that stood about my height, right around six three. Trumpet-shaped orange and white flowers shot out from green leaves that had the skin of an elephant. She rubbed a thumb across a leaf, smelled the flower, perhaps wondering if the plant was real or fake.

  I wondered the same about most of the people around us.

  “Good morning, Picture Perfect Image, where your image is our everything. This is Bree, how can I help you?”

  I turned to my left, trying not to stare at the girl sitting behind the white desk, phone to her ear.

  “Oh, Mitch. How are you on this awesome day? Yeah.” She chewed a piece of gum, twirled a strand of bleach blond hair with her finger. “We’re hopping today, oh my God.”

  She nodded. “Uh-hum. Yeah. I’m right there with you. Certainly. Hold just one second and I can put you through to Chas.” She hung up the office phone, then picked up her cell phone.