“Let’s just say it’s second rate,” Alisa added.
“No offense, but it might be lower than that,” Paco replied, both hands grasping the top of the chair.
It seemed like Paco was trying to avoid discussing Jade’s murder.
“Hey.” I got his attention, and he looked me in the eye, his face hard.
“Everything cool?”
Paco picked at a pilling ball of fabric, releasing an audible breath. “Not sure you recall, but I have a niece. She’s eighteen, a wild child if I’ve ever known one,” he said.
“Yeah. I think we all go through that rebellious streak,” I said.
“She reminds me of Jade, at least how Bucky talks about her. My niece has been in a bit of trouble too. Skipping school, smoking weed, getting drunk. Staying out all night, treating her parents like they’re pariahs.”
“And you could envision your niece making the wrong decision and ending up like Jade?”
Paco glanced at Alisa then back at me. “Yeah, man. My family, you know, we’re close. I just don’t know how to stop it from happening.”
“You do whatever it takes.” Alisa placed a hand on the arm of the chair. “I’m trying like hell to not picture Natalie ending up with the same fate as Jade. Shit, they were friends even.”
She used a jittery hand to rub under her eyes.
Paco pursed his lips, laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Alisa. I shouldn’t have gone there.”
She placed her hand on top of his. “It’s okay. It just goes to show how we’re all impacted by this.”
“Paco, I don’t normally ask you to mix business with pleasure—I save that for Henry. But he’s in Hawaii with Cindy. Is there anything you can share about the investigation into Jade’s death?”
He scratched his chin. “Detective Tanner also has a teenage girl. I think it got to him too, more than most of the sickening murders he has to deal with. We got to talking, and he gave me a few nuggets. First, he’s got a good idea when her body was tossed into the Trinity River. Or should we call it the Trinity Moat, considering it’s more mud and garbage than streaming water? Regardless, he and his partner found a homeless guy who was eating a late-night snack under the fancy new bridge when he heard the body slam into the mud.”
Feeling my back stiffen, I couldn’t help but lean forward as Paco continued.
“Tanner said that occurred between two o’clock and two thirty. The homeless guy was scared at first. Didn’t move. He said he heard a loud engine drive away. Thinks it was a diesel of some kind.”
“No ID on the vehicle?” I asked.
“Afraid not. Just the sound of the engine.”
I grunted my irritation. “Still, I’m sure the DPD has someone who can replay audio files of different car engines for the witness to try to narrow it down. Then they can check the video cameras at the nearby stoplights to see if there’s a match to the engine sound.”
Paco smirked. “Man, how did they let you get away?”
“What?”
“This whole PI thing has you thinking—”
“Like a PI,” Alisa interjected, giving me a subtle wink.
“I’m a quick learner. Anything else from the witness?” Paco’s accolades were all well and good, but pats on the back wouldn’t help us find Natalie, or Jade’s killer. In the back of my mind, I was still riding the fence on whether the two open cases had any links.
“The homeless guy waited a few minutes, then walked over and realized the object that fell was enclosed in a thick plastic bag, gray. Thankfully, he didn’t try to open it up. The bag looks a lot like the ones coroners use, but it had no logo, not a single tag. Tanner’s team is trying to determine the exact composition of the material to try to identify the manufacturer. If they can find a match, they’ll start pouring through the company’s distributors or sales data to see if they sell directly to the public. With any luck, they’ll be able to follow a trail to whoever might have purchased it. That could take a while. Even then, it’s a bit of a long shot.”
I noticed Alisa typing away on the laptop, her brain on autopilot. I was glad she’d been able to build a wall between her and the natural urge to respond emotionally to every disturbing word from Paco. How long it would hold up, I had no idea.
“Any word on the official cause of death yet?”
“Not definitive.” Paco’s eyes shifted to my new partner then back to me. I could see he didn’t want to pull the plug on Alisa’s emotional dam, but we didn’t have the time to worry about it.
I gestured with my hand for him to keep talking.
“Detectives found puncture wounds all over her arms, toes, even her thighs. Initial toxicology report showed a heavy amount of heroin in her system.”
I started chewing the inside of my cheek. “There must be more.”
“She was beaten up pretty badly. Bruises, abrasions all over her body. Two significant wounds to her skull. Lots of blood matted to her head inside the bag. I got a look myself. It was one you’ll never forget. Ever.”
Paco wiped his face, then grabbed his glass off my desk and chugged about half of it in five seconds. “That’s not everything. It gets a lot worse.”
“Sexual assault?”
“Possibly. MEs will let us know for certain. That’s not what I was going to point out though.”
“Tell us.”
“There was a fork buried in her eye socket. It was in there deep, man. The toss off the bridge probably didn’t help, but her eyeball was just dangling off to the side.”
Alisa brought a fist to her mouth, and her chest lurched just a bit.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said in a measured tone. She licked her lips and returned her eyes to the laptop.
“Sounds like the vic, Jade, and perp might have known each other. Maybe a crime of passion? Even with all the heroin in her system, why would the killer have stabbed her with a fork? Very possibly could have been a struggle. If so, DNA has got to be on her somewhere, starting with the fingernails.”
“Strong theories to work with,” Paco said. “One problem. She didn’t have any fingernails. They’d been ripped off her fingers. Fucking psycho did this, Booker. A fucking psycho.”
I wasn’t sure if that narrowed our list of possible suspects, or just made it that much more difficult to determine who was leading a double life.
12
A swell of cool air brushed her frigid body, and it trembled in response. Grinding her teeth, she did all she could to not rattle the metal cot, not produce any noise.
Peeking an eye open, the door to her room was ajar about two feet, a faint glow coming from the hall. Shuffling and voices in the distance. Was there hope in finally getting out of this fucking torture chamber?
Her heart churned like it was pumping through sludge. Breaths came in slow gasps and she could feel the edges of her limited vision begin to blur, a lightheaded feeling brought on by nothing more than pure anxiety. She couldn’t afford to pass out or vomit all over herself. The sickening odor had already been infused into her body. Even worse, the sound would solicit a quick response from Tex and Tongue—the names she’d given the vile, despicable men who’d put her through hell.
But now she was certain she wasn’t the only girl.
A whimper. Arching her neck, she saw no shadows in the hall, no flickering of light. There it was again, this time a bit more distinct, or just louder. It was a girl’s voice. It had to be. It sounded as if she was gagged or had something stuck down her throat. Panting, gurgling moans followed, and Natalie could hardly bear to listen.
“Please stop,” Natalie whispered to herself. “Please, please, please stop.”
Tears pressed the corners of her swollen eyes. They escaped and rolled off her cheek, sliding to the back of her neck, crossing two distinct rows of mangled flesh. That beast, Tex, had put her through some type of strange ritual, mumbling shit she couldn’t understand. It ended with his bear claw holding her head in place while h
e ran a burning cigarette across the back of her neck.
Screaming until her voice cracked, biting at his calloused hand, he didn’t stop until he’d etched three lines of burns on her once unblemished skin.
Once it ended, she just lay there in her own pool of sweat, her drug-ravaged body drained of all energy. She wondered if she’d ever model again. Her lifelong dream of being discovered, ascending the stardom ladder from working commercials, to TV and movies, and on to becoming the next Scarlett Johansson, Jennifer Lawrence, or Kate Upton had most likely disintegrated. Hollywood wouldn’t accept a scarred actress.
And she couldn’t give a Nacogdoches rat’s ass. That’s how much she’d fallen. Giving up her dreams was nothing compared to being tortured and left for dead. She’d been an immature fool as long as she could recall. Her arrogance and lack of good judgment had put her in this life-threatening situation, with no one to blame or to manipulate into accepting a heaping truckload of guilt.
With her whirlwind lifestyle, it was impossible for most of her friends, colleagues, or family to keep up with her. To a degree, she’d planned it that way. She didn’t need or want anyone watching out for her, cramping her style.
And now that only added to her dismal position. No one knew where she was. They probably weren’t aware she’d been kidnapped, let alone drugged, raped, and tortured. Hell, she had no clue of her location. DC, Dallas, Fort Worth, some meth house in Decatur, an island in the middle of the Pacific? She had no frickin’ clue.
She was alone. Only she could save herself. Willing her tears to stop, she refused to allow herself to play silly games. The odds of her making it out of this place alive were disastrous. Vegas probably wouldn’t even give the odds they were so bad. But as long as she was breathing and able to use her brain even a few hours a day, she’d force herself to take the continued assaults and torture if it bought her more time to clear a few more webs, begin to figure out a way to escape.
There had to be a way.
Just then, she heard bare feet smacking concrete. Lights flickered in the hallway, and a sobbing moan grew closer.
“Leave me alone. Leave me the fuck alone!” a girl screamed outside of Natalie’s sights. Slurring her words, the girl’s voice sounded scared, desperate.
With her neck strained to its limit, Natalie waited to see a figure.
More feet smacking concrete, more moaning wails.
“Who do you think you are, telling us how to run our house? Ha!”
Tongue.
Natalie’s already tense body stiffened like an igneous rock. Staring at the door opening, she saw a thin, moving shadow, more smacking against the concrete. She forgot to breathe.
“No, no, noooo!” the girl screamed.
Thwack.
“Ahh!”
Was that an arrow being shot into the girl’s body?
Natalie’s chest nearly split open.
She heard a person crumble to the unforgiving floor, crying out as she fell. Then an arm reached inside her doorway, a stiff hand smeared with red. Blood pooled under the girl’s arm. The injured girl cried out again, but there was no energy left in it. Only a futile grunt.
“You’ve spilled your guts all over the place, bitch. Now I got more cleaning up to do. Cunt,” Tex complained with a professional-grade hick accent.
In no time at all, the arm scooted away, leaving a trail of smeared blood. The whimpers were gone. Natalie was sure the girl had been killed.
Her chest heaved and she jerked her head back and forth, fighting back a surge of emotion. She’d only seen the girl’s arm. But she’d heard her desperate pleas, her cries of terror. It felt like the arrow had punctured Natalie’s heart and every other organ in her body.
The wishful hope of light had only brought to life how barbaric her captors were—as if she needed third-party confirmation.
An echo of men growling bounced off barren walls. Then she heard a snap, as if someone was cracking open a walnut. The next sound was more of a rippled crunch, followed by two more similar noises. Then more animalistic snarls.
Were they acting out a type of sadistic ritual, similar to what Tex had done to her?
With her mind begging for a reprieve to take her someplace far away, she began to hum softly, drowning out the sound. Just her, the white noise of her hum, and a steady breathing pattern.
A gentle wave washed over her body. It was warm, comforting. Her spastic, sputtering pulse had slowed to a measured pace.
She realized she was in another world. One engulfed by silence all around her. No growls, wails, or crying. Just the murmur of the power lines—if that’s what they were.
She sniffled.
“Dearest Cybil.” Tongue’s voice jolted her senses. It was close, within a few feet outside her door.
He continued. “I thought you had so much promise. More than the rest. Your beauty, your sense of purpose. It saddens me to see you in this…state.”
She paused, then heard a ruffling sound, as if someone had flapped a cape.
“But while you gave part of yourself to me, you never fully committed yourself to our cause. It’s a crying shame.”
A snarky, Southern chuckle, most likely Tex. Then he stopped in an instant, as if the teacher had silenced him with his killer glare.
“Oh, Cybil. It’s a shame to see you break down like this, nothing more than a bag of bones. Ha-ha.”
That was Tongue laughing this time. Natalie ground her teeth, a mixture of fear and vitriol steamrolling through her bloodstream.
“Taming the wildest of horses brings me immense pleasure. And you were one of the wildest.” The crazed man was speaking to a dead girl. Natalie’s mind could hardly comprehend what she was hearing.
“Just know that I meant no harm. It was all a part of the process, giving you just enough leeway to see if you’d run off or show your loyalty. You could have been one who graduated, moved on to the next phase of your life. A new lover, a new master. Most likely a new country. But fate’s hand dealt you a mixed deck. Some things just aren’t meant to be. Cybil will not appear in the caged circle, soliciting bids for a lifetime of service. It’s an honor, and one that you will not attain, I’m sorry to say.”
The man who seemed part snake, part human gurgled back a wet cough.
“Just know that you are not alone, even as you lie here turning a cool blue. Many girls have gone through this same development, and like you, they have failed. Countless girls going back so many years I don’t even know. How could I? I wasn’t even around.
“For everyone else listening, there is still hope for each of you.”
Natalie’s once calm state had been sucked away. He was speaking to her and other girls apparently. The words he spoke felt like a scalpel nicking away at her heart, slowly bleeding out.
“We live in such a selfish society, no one fully comprehending what it’s like to give all of yourself. That’s what I’m asking. You do that, and you will live. Not only live, but experience life on a plane that is incomprehensible for the ninety-nine point nine percent of the population to fathom. You could be part of that point one percent. It’s freeing. It’s euphoric. Just give yourself until you have nothing left to give.”
Suddenly, a hand reached inside her door, and she squeezed her eyes shut, playing the part of the wounded animal. She heard the door slam shut, metal latch lock. Peeking, she noticed a slice of light under the door.
Had they intentionally left the door open before, just so Natalie could better witness another girl murdered a few feet from her own cot? It couldn’t have been fake. The girl’s cries had permeated her core, a haunting sound that would live in her soul until the day she perished.
How soon would that be?
According to Tongue, that was all up to her. But how much more of herself was there left to give? He spoke of this caged circle and a better life. It sure as hell couldn’t be any worse than what she’d been put through thus far.
Or could it?
Licking her cracke
d and rutted lips, a hint of copper lingered from her last interaction with Tongue. No one would swoop in to save her. It was up to her to figure out how to escape. But she couldn’t be clumsy or arrogant about the process.
Her mind felt as sharp as it had since she’d first awakened in Hotel Hell. How many days had it been? She tried not to dwell on a fact that couldn’t be verified. But she knew she was due another dose of their magic little dust. Thankfully, they’d gotten their jollies by watching her snort coke. She’d asked for coke a few days in, when she knew they’d been shooting her up with heroin. Both drugs were laced with some type of wacky shit that made her go stir crazy. But, they didn’t know that Natalie Lopes had a skill, one that she’d acquired as soon as she hit the Dallas party scene. She could snort coke up her nose and only allow a fraction to be sucked into her nasal passages.
Five of the last six occasions, she’d been able to utilize her coke-snorting talents. Once Tongue and Tex left her alone, she would frantically blow out the remnants. It still sent her on the craziest ride of her life, full of ups and downs, but she guessed she’d only consumed about half of what they gave her.
Her undeniable, self-centered ego had brought her to Hotel Hell, on the brink of death. Her mind would be her only vehicle out.
13
Whoever made the joke about walking, talking, and chewing gum at the same time should copyright a contemporary version. Walking, talking, chewing gum, and texting at the same time were apparently the new definition of talent, but only if it was done with the right amount of flair.
“Gifted,” I whispered, leaning toward Alisa while casting an eye on Bree, the enigmatic admin for Picture Perfect Imaging.
“You can add curling a lock of hair to her list of marketable skills,” Alisa replied. She rolled her eyes back so far, I could only see the whites.
My hands clasped behind me, I rocked back and forth on my toes, as we waited not so patiently for Bree to escort us to a meeting room. Thus far, she’d engaged four other ladies in brief conversations, unwrapped two pieces of gum and curled them into her rather large mouth, and found the time to knock out half a dozen texts, emails, or posts—all while seemingly standing guard at the copy machine at an inlet just off a hallway decorated in red and green ribbon. During our first visit, our path was rimmed with black, white, and iridescent green stripes.
BOOKER Box Set #2 (A Private Investigator Thriller Series of Crime and Suspense): Volumes 4-6 Page 13
