Skin in the Game

by D P Lyle

“I went back a few years. To his days at Princeton. You’d think a kid of his means wouldn’t need a job. But Tyler did. Part time.”

  Mama B liked stretching the spring. Loved to roll out a story slowly. She should write thrillers.

  “Do we have to guess?” Cain asked.

  “He deposited a bunch of checks from Tootie’s Tattoo Parlor.”

  “What?” Harper said.

  “Yep. He did. Essentially once a month for nearly three years.”

  “He worked as a tattoo artist?” Harper asked.

  “I doubt he was sweeping the floors,” Mama B said.

  “This is a game changer,” Cain said.

  “Sure gives him the skills,” Mama B said.

  “And narrows our choices.”

  “This is amazing,” Harper said.

  “I’ve got a little more,” Mama B said. “Tyler’s spread is maybe twenty acres. Abuts the southern edge of his father’s much larger estate.”

  “I think we saw the entrance to it,” Harper said. “Just off the county road.”

  “That’s it. I grabbed some satellite photos. From a friend.”

  Mama B had friends everywhere. CIA, NSA, everywhere.

  “Shows four buildings,” she continued. “The residence, a garage, a barn, and another smaller building. Like an equipment shed. I’m sending it all your way.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I suspect you’ll pay him a visit come nightfall. Be careful.”

  CHAPTER 55

  He was late. He had worked for a couple of hours early in the morning. Just after sun-up as far as she could tell. Then he had said he had some things to take care of but would be back around noon. It felt well past that now. She was hungry. The bacon and egg burrito he had brought her earlier hadn’t been very good. She only ate half. Now she wished she had the remainder.

  She examined herself for like the five hundredth time. Nearly her entire body had been tattooed a tan/orange color with random black splotches everywhere. Only her abdomen, one shoulder, and her face had escaped his needles. But that was coming.

  She stretched out her arms, rotated them. She did look like a cheetah. A fucking cheetah? Her eyes moistened, the splotches now running together as if melting.

  She heard footsteps. The side door swung open. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and sniffed. He walked toward her, handed her a white bag.

  “Got you a burger and some fries.”

  It smelled wonderful. She took the bag. “Thanks.”

  “Eat up. Then we have to get back to work.”

  Inside she found a thick cheeseburger, a small bag of fries, and a large bottle of water. Maybe the best burger she’d ever eaten. Or perhaps she was simply starving.

  Once he had strapped her back on the table, she asked, “What time is it?”

  “A little after four.”

  “No wonder I was so hungry.”

  “Took me longer than I thought. Means we’ll work a little later tonight. Maybe until nine or so.”

  “I don’t know if I can take it that long.”

  “You’ll be fine. Besides, we have a lot left to do before tomorrow night.”

  She stiffened. “What happens then?”

  “Your debut.” He smiled. “You’ll be completed and ready for the world.”

  The tattoo gun buzzed to life. She jumped when it touched the tender flesh of her abdomen, just below her ribs.

  Again, tears pushed against her eyes.

  Don’t give him that.

  She fought but felt them leak from her right eye, slide across her cheek.

  “Are those tears of joy?” he asked.

  Was he freaking kidding? Or mocking her? She couldn’t tell. The only thing she knew for sure was that he was one demented fuck.

  “It just hurts,” she said.

  “I know,” he said. “You’ve been a real trooper. Not much more. Just this and your shoulder today, then tomorrow morning your face.”

  A sob escaped. “Then what happens? I don’t understand.”

  “You will. You’ll be the star of the show.”

  She had no idea what that meant. Only that whatever it was, she wouldn’t survive it. There was no way he could let her live. No way. Would she get a chance to escape? Would she be taken somewhere, or was this her final resting place? Here in this cold, dingy barn? Please, dear God, don’t let that be true.

  Her parents, her sister, would never know what happened to her. No one would. She would simply evaporate. As if she never existed.

  Or would he make a mistake? Lose his concentration? If he did take her somewhere else, would an opportunity arise? Could she somehow surprise him? Overpower him?

  Another thought crept in. An even scarier one. Who were those other two guys? They were obviously in on this. Would they be “part of the show,” as he put it? Was this some crazy sex game? Would they do all this to rape her? What kind of sick fuck would do that?

  She knew the answer to that. The one bending over her, marking her flesh.

  “Who were those other two guys?” she asked.

  The buzzing stopped, he looked at her. “Friends.”

  “Will they be part of things tomorrow night?”

  “Oh, yes. Definitely.”

  “But, you won’t tell me what it is? What’s going to happen?”

  “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

  The buzzing restarted.

  CHAPTER 56

  Cain and Harper found themselves back at Flo’s Diner. They had called Cutler just after scooting through Lynchburg. Cutler suggested meeting there, saying she was starving. Cain and Harper hadn’t eaten since their granola and fruit breakfast that morning, so Flo’s worked perfectly.

  Flo greeted them, wiping her hands on a red-checkered kitchen towel as she approached. “Welcome back. The Chief said you’d be joining her.”

  “Smells better than I remembered,” Harper said. “And I remembered it being wonderful.”

  “Love to hear that,” Flo said, her face lighting up. She jerked her head toward the back. “She’s back that way. I’ll bring some menus.”

  Cutler sat at a table in the far corner. She wasn’t alone. Jimmy Rankin sat next to her.

  “I invited Jimmy in on this discussion,” Cutler said.

  “Good,” Cain said. “I’m interested in his take on everything.”

  Flo appeared, menus in hand. She handed one to Harper, then Cain. “These two don’t need a menu. They know it by heart.” She laughed. “But I’d recommend the meatloaf. Luke Nash brought me some of his famous pork sausage and I ground a bit in there.”

  That’s what everyone ordered.

  Cutler waited until she left. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Cain glanced at Rankin.

  “I told Jimmy you suspected one of the Stensons and maybe Ted Norris.”

  “And I find that hard to believe,” Rankin said.

  “I think we know which one now,” Harper said.

  Cutler and Rankin stared at her.

  “Let me lay it out,” Cain said. “Then you can tell me what you think.”

  Cutler nodded.

  “We know Cindy Grant was tattooed and hunted. Most likely, the teacher, Rose Sanders, was, too. From Cindy’s autopsy, the weapon used was an arrow. My guess is a crossbow bolt.”

  “How’d you figure that?” Rankin asked.

  “The nature of the wounds. Small, round, not bullets. Definitely not a hunting arrow. More like a target type, or a crossbow.”

  “And since bowhunters don’t use target points?” Rankin shrugged.

  “Exactly. That led us into Stenson’s world. Our visit to his place left me with the impression he has a pretty tight group. So we figured the killer was at least known to Stenson.”

  “Makes sense,” Rankin said. He took a sip of coffee.

  “We wormed into the business of one Carlos Campos. Up in Nashville. We got there thanks to Adam Parker. He’s the one who recruited Cindy into prostit
ution.”

  “Your fake website worked?” Cutler said.

  “Sure did. We made Carlos an offer he couldn’t refuse. Lots of money, lots of girls. From that relationship, we learned Carlos had sold Cindy to someone. Our killer, no doubt.”

  “Which is who?” Cutler asked.

  Flo and one of the waitresses appeared. Plates were eased onto the table. “Get you anything else?” Flo asked.

  “I think we’re good,” Cutler said. “Thanks.”

  Flo and the waitress left and everyone dug in.

  After a few bites, Cain continued. “I’ll get to the ‘who’ in a minute. We learned the buyer was sent Carlos’ way by a valet at Caesars in Las Vegas. Guy named Luis Orosco. We paid him a visit. He looked at a photo Harper had taken at Stenson’s the other day. He narrowed it down to three people. Martin Stenson, Tyler, or Ted Norris.”

  “But he didn’t know which one?” Cutler asked.

  Cain shook his head.

  “Ted does look at lot like Tyler,” Rankin said. “Martin, too, for that matter.”

  “Probably why Orosco couldn’t say which one for sure,” Cain said. “He told us he only met the guy once. Several years ago. After that everything was done over the phone.”

  “Everything, like what?” Cutler asked.

  “Seems that whenever the guy was in Vegas, he’d get girls through Luis. Then a month ago, he asked Luis if he could buy a girl. Apparently he’d read some article about trafficking. Online or somewhere. Luis knew he was from the Nashville area so he sent him Carlos’ way.”

  “And he purchased Cindy from him,” Rankin said. Not a question.

  “Carlos never actually met the guy,” Cain said. “His two sidekicks did. Guys named Munoz and Reyes.”

  “So they know our killer?” Cutler said.

  “They said no. Didn’t recognize anyone in the photo. But, they were lying.”

  “What about this Adam Parker?” Rankin asked. “He know the guy?”

  Cain shook his head. “Never met him. All he did was bring Cindy to Carlos.” He looked at Cutler. “And get himself killed.”

  “What?”

  “Carlos’ two guys. Last night. In his condo.”

  Cutler gave a slow nod. “You sure it was this Carlos guy and his crew that did it?”

  “I am,” Cain said. “He told me so. Right before he tried to do the same to me.”

  “Obviously not successfully,” Cutler said. “I assume they’re in custody?”

  “Sort of,” Harper said. “The ME has them.”

  Cutler sighed. She looked at Cain. “You?”

  “Us,” Cain said. “Munoz caught a knife, Reyes a bullet.” He looked at Harper. “Forgot to say this earlier, but nice shot.”

  “Lucky,” Harper said.

  “Right.” Cain smiled. “So, we have three bodies and Carlos in Lee Bradford’s hands. But since Carlos never saw the guy, that left us still unsure which of the trio to focus on.”

  “But now we know,” Harper said. “It’s Tyler.”

  “You sure?” Cutler asked.

  “After some digging, we discovered that Tyler had a side job while he was at Princeton. At a tattoo parlor.”

  Cutler couldn’t hide her shock. “You’re kidding.”

  “So we have Luis picking out the two Stensons, and Ted Norris, and Tyler with the requisite skills.”

  “But this Luis guy couldn’t say it was Tyler for sure. Right?” Rankin asked.

  “No, he couldn’t,” Cain said.

  “You have to admit they look a lot alike,” Harper said. “Martin looks much younger than he is, and Norris looks like part of the family, so I can see how he couldn’t be sure from a photo.”

  “I don’t get it,” Rankin said. “Why on God’s green earth would Tyler Stenson do something like this?” He glanced at Cutler. “I mean, he’s kind of a pussy.”

  Harper smiled. “He does seem a little passive. But, I had a nice chat with him. He was against hunting. Gave his father and his friends grief about it. But, he said something odd. He suggested they should hunt each other. Said that would be more fair.”

  “And that’s his motivation?” Cutler asked.

  “Maybe.” Harper shrugged. “Or maybe he’s trying to show daddy up. Hunt real prey. Not simply dumb animals, as Tyler called them.”

  Cutler pushed her plate away, her meatloaf only half eaten. “Martin can be a little overbearing.”

  “And Tyler is definitely spoiled,” Rankin said. “Never wanted for anything. Privileged upbringing, top notch education, and a very high-dollar career dropped in his lap.”

  “All courtesy of his father,” Cain said.

  “Yeah, but always on Martin’s terms,” Rankin said. “At least that’s my read.”

  “Mine, too,” Cutler added.

  “It’s not an uncommon dynamic,” Harper said. “Daddy’s demanding. Kid wants to make a statement. Prove he’s a man. Maybe one up daddy. That sort of thing.”

  “Okay, I get that,” Cutler said. “But this? Hunting girls?”

  Harper leaned forward, propped her elbows on the table. “Think about it. Martin Stenson is a skilled hunter. A big man in that world. He displays his trophies in his home. Like badges of honor. Tyler isn’t part of that group. An outsider of sorts. Yet, daddy and his friends are there all the time. Rubbing it in his face. Intentional or not, doesn’t matter. To Tyler it’s just that. He grows up seeing those trophies, seeing his father bond with his buddies while Tyler’s ignored to some extent. So, he decides to do the one thing daddy wouldn’t do. Hunt a human.”

  “And the tattooing?” Rankin asked.

  “Two things,” Harper said. “One is that it makes them resemble daddy’s trophies. Sort of a ‘take that’ statement. The other, it dehumanizes them somewhat. Makes them truly prey and no longer human. Easier to hunt that way, I suspect.”

  “Why behead Cindy?” Rankin asked.

  Cain sighed. “A trophy. Like daddy’s heads on the wall.”

  “Wait a minute,” Cutler said. “You’re saying Tyler Stenson has Cindy Harper’s head hanging on his den wall?”

  “Maybe Rose Sanders, too.”

  “If not on his wall,” Harper said, “somewhere nearby. Where he can enjoy them.”

  “Enjoy?” Rankin said. “This is unbelievable.”

  “More than that,” Cutler said. “This is a fucking mess.” She glanced at Cain. “What now?”

  “We need proof,” Cain said. “And to find the other girl.”

  “Maybe raid his place?” Rankin said.

  “Not sure we can do that,” Cutler said. “We have no real evidence he’s done anything. Be hard to get a search warrant with what we have. And going in there empty-handed would put him on alert. Give him time to destroy any evidence he might have.”

  Rankin nodded. “Including the girl. If he still has her.”

  “We have another idea,” Cain said. “You two are handcuffed. Have to work within the framework of the law.” He nodded toward Harper. “We don’t.”

  “You want to translate that for me?” Cutler asked.

  “We’re going to visit his place as soon as it gets dark.”

  “And what? Ride in on white horses?”

  Cain smiled. “Not exactly.”

  “Okay. So Tyler sees you out there sniffing around, calls me, and I have to lock you up for trespassing.” She smiled. “Maybe even B and E.”

  “He’ll never know we’re there,” Harper said.

  “Really? I don’t know his security situation out there but it’s his house, his property. Don’t you think that gives him a leg up?”

  “You don’t know us,” Cain said. “Our history. And we can’t talk about any of it. But, let’s say we’ve carried out too many missions to count. Middle of the night. Very hostile territory. Tip of the spear stuff.”

  “Black ops?” Rankin asked.

  Cain shrugged. “Some tasks need to be accomplished quietly and efficiently. Deep in the bad guy’s home
court. Off the radar.”

  Rankin stared at him.

  “Bottom line, is that we can get in there and see what’s what,” Harper said. “Completely off the grid.”

  Cutler shook her head. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

  Cain caught her gaze. “It’s our job. What we were hired to do.”

  “Weren’t you hired to find Cindy Grant? You did. So doesn’t that end it?”

  “That was part of our mission,” Harper said.

  “What else?” Realization fell over her face. “No, wait a minute. Does General Kessler want you to take out whoever murdered his granddaughter?”

  Cain deadpanned her.

  Cutler took a deep breath. “I can’t let you go in there if your plan is to kill Tyler Stenson.”

  “We’re going in to gather intel,” Cain said. “And hopefully rescue a girl in deep trouble.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “That’s it. Unless our hand is forced. Hopefully we’ll find what you need to make an arrest.”

  Cutler sighed. “This makes me uneasy.”

  “That’s why you’ll be miles away. Completely out of the picture.”

  Cutler sighed, looked toward the entrance. Cain could sense her wheels turning, wrestling with what to say. Whether to buy into this or not. Finally, she simply said, “It’s supposed to rain.”

  Cain smiled. “Good. It’ll provide cover.”

  CHAPTER 57

  The intel and maps Mama B provided proved invaluable. Of the four buildings on the property, the garage and the small shed seemed less likely candidates for locating the girl. Neither appeared to have the space he would need for his work. If the girl was indeed on his property, at a minimum he would require some place to incarcerate her: a locked room, a basement, a cage, something that was secure, and a work area. A table, and ample room for his tattooing equipment. The shed was too small, barely room to stand up much less move around. The garage, a single car version, could work, but it’d be tight.

  His home could easily provide the needed elbow room. Four bedrooms and a full basement according to the construction plans Mama B had scooped up. The basement could’ve been modified to suit his requirements. Tyler wouldn’t be the first killer to have done so.