Danette stood, waiting to see how her body would react. Her legs felt weird and her shoulders ached from having her arms pulled together in front for so long. The ache in her breasts made her think of Micah. She’d quit breastfeeding a few weeks ago and the baby had not been happy about it. A sob rose in her throat; she choked on it. Would she ever see Micah again? Danette fought for control. She couldn’t break down. She had to stay alert and resilient if she wanted to survive this ordeal, whatever the hell it was.
The big guy had replaced the handcuffs on her wrists with thin nylon cord, so her hands had less mobility. Still, she was able to push the bandanna up and off her eyes. The room was just as dark without it. She was ready to yank it back into place if she heard footsteps coming. Her captor didn’t want her to see his face, and it gave Danette hope she might eventually be released.
The gag in her mouth wouldn’t budge without tearing off her lower lip. Danette shuffled forward, thinking there was a bathroom in the corner. Had the big guy told her that? Cautiously, she crossed the small space, found the switch inside the door, and flipped it on. The light was so dim she barely blinked after hours of darkness. Danette shuffled into the bathroom and used the toilet.
Having her wrists tightly bound made it difficult, but Danette searched the tiny room for something that might help. She found nothing. Not even a towel. She left the light on and shuffled back out into the main room. In the weak glow, she could see she was in a basement. Yet it wasn’t a typical filled-with-crap basement. She was alone down here, with nothing but a bed, a couch, and toilet. She touched the cool stone wall, paralyzed with despair.
Another vague memory surfaced. She’d come awake once at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. The door to the room had opened and someone had come in. He’d offered her food if she promised not to say a word while the gag was off. She vaguely remembered chewing her way through most of a nutrition bar before she’d passed out again.
As her eyes adjusted to the weak light, she realized one long wall was stacked high with boxes. What were they storing down here? She thought about trying to open one. Was it worth the risk of angering the big guy?
She heard footsteps and yanked the cloth back over her eyes. A key clicked in the lock and a door swung open. Danette turned toward the sound, braced for assault. Two sets of footsteps moved toward her. A man’s voice whispered, but she couldn’t understand the words. Another man said softly, “The body’s good but I need to see her face. Take the blindfold off.”
“Trust me. She’s pretty.” Then louder, “Step over here to the light.”
Danette was conflicted, as she had been since she’d landed on her face while getting out of the van. So far, as long as she cooperated with them, nothing bad had happened to her. Yet every fiber in her body wanted to refuse the command.
The big guy grabbed her arm, pulled her toward the bathroom, and stepped behind her.
“Keep your eyes tightly closed,” he threatened. “If you want to live, don’t look at him.”
He untied the blindfold at the back of her head and lowered it to her collarbone, keeping his hands on the ends. His thick wrists rested on her shoulders. Danette kept her eyes closed, painfully aware the big guy could tighten the bandanna around her neck and strangle her in seconds.
“She’s gorgeous,” the other one said. His voice was not as deep or as loud as the big guy’s. Danette wondered if she’d heard it before. “Good skin tone, but no strong ethnic features. The Dutchman will love her. We have a deal.”
Danette shuddered. She’d just been sold like a side of beef.
As the blindfold came up, she relaxed her eyelids and got a nanosecond glance at the man who’d purchased her. All she could process was that he was not very big and his hair was light.
“Good girl.” The big guy grabbed her arm. “It’s time for another pill.” He put two little white tablets under her tongue and they dissolved instantly. As Danette began to feel sleepy, the big guy put the bandanna back on her mouth, tied her feet, and carried her up the stairs.
Soon after Jackson and Katie arrived at Kera’s, Mrs. Blake took off, saying she was going out to see an old friend for dinner.
“It’s nice of her to give us some time alone,” Jackson said, as he watched Kera change the baby. Katie was in the living room, texting a friend. For a moment, Jackson wondered what his life would have been like if he’d met Kera twenty years ago, instead of Renee, and they’d had a child together. What would their child be like? Would he have had more than one?
“I think she needed to get away from babysitting,” Kera said with a laugh. “I don’t blame her. She’s not well.”
They were silent for a few seconds as they both thought about Jackson’s disease. People might say that about him now.
“How did your day go?” Jackson didn’t want to talk about the whole RF thing yet. Kera picked up Micah and they sat beside each other on her bed.
“Good, I think. I filed a missing persons report and talked to Sophie Speranza.”
“She told me she ran into you at the department.”
“We had coffee together, and I told her about Danette. Sophie said she’d try to get her picture and story in the paper. We might as well enlist the public’s help.”
“Of course.” Jackson hated the idea of Sophie getting to know Kera. She would try to use it to manipulate him.
“I went into Danette’s house,” Kera said softly.
Jackson felt a flash of concern mixed with irritation. “I advised you not to do that.”
“I know, but Detective Zapata isn’t taking this case seriously and I didn’t expect him to get over there anytime soon.”
She was right about that. “What did you find out?”
“I couldn’t find the boyfriend’s name anywhere, but I did see an e-mail that mentioned meeting another young mother at a center. So I’m looking into that.”
“What center?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out.” Kera paused, touched Jackson’s leg. “A police officer came to Danette’s house while I was there. He called in a report, then made me leave.”
Jackson laughed out loud. Suddenly he had to pee. “Excuse me,” he said, charging for the adjoining bathroom.
Kera made enchiladas, one of Katie’s favorites, while Katie watched Micah in the living room. Jackson wandered back and forth between the two. At least his daughter was here, having dinner with them, so they were making progress. Katie still believed her parents would get back together now that Renee was sober, so she kept Kera at a distance, much to Jackson’s anguish. He needed these two females to bond, so he didn’t have to spend his life like this, going back and forth.
At dinner, he delivered on his promise to Kera and Katie to discuss his medical situation. “I have an appointment with a urologist on Wednesday to talk about surgery. It’s nothing to worry about,” he said, looking at Katie. “I think they’re just going to cut out some of the growth, which is a good thing.”
Kera gave him a look. He took it to mean he was over-simplifying things. Jackson didn’t feel the need to scare Katie with the whole truth yet. Hell, he didn’t even know what the whole truth was.
Kera said, “I think they’ll do a little more than that. They also need to protect your urinary system from having this happen again.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Jackson faked a grin. As Kera was talking, it hit him for the first time that the surgery would leave him with quite a scar.
“Will you still pee normal?” Katie mumbled, her mouth full of corn.
“Of course.” He felt like he had to go right now. He was learning to ignore the sensation until it became overwhelming.
“How long will you be in the hospital?” Katie wanted to know.
“For a few days.” Jackson glanced at Kera. She rolled her eyes but didn’t correct him.
“What if the fiber stuff comes back?” Katie asked.
“After the surgery, I’ll take steroids to make sure it doesn
’t happen.”
“Will they let me watch? You know, like on Grey’s Anatomy, how they sit up there in the little room and watch surgeries?”
“I don’t think so,” Jackson said.
“Too bad.”
While they cleaned up from dinner, they listened to the local news on the small television in the kitchen. Trina Waterman, a wispy blond who looked just out of high school, led with: Last night, a young woman named Courtney Durham left Diego’s nightclub on Pearl Street and has not been seen since.
As they flashed Courtney’s picture on the screen, Jackson stopped wiping the counter and turned up the volume.
The anchorwoman continued: Courtney is five-seven, a hundred and twenty pounds, with long blond hair and green eyes. At the time of her disappearance she is believed to have been wearing black jeans, a black tank top, and a turquoise jean jacket.
Courtney’s photo filled half the screen. Kera moved over and stood with Jackson in front of the small TV.
If you have seen this woman, please call the police tip line at 682-8888.
The phone number flashed on the screen in big white letters.
Jackson was caught off guard by the story. He shouldn’t have been. Elle Durham was worried about her daughter, and she had money to throw around.
The broadcast cut to Elle, seated in front of a gray wall, with perfect hair, clothes, and posture. Her voice quivered as she spoke: My daughter Courtney is missing, and I’ll do anything to get her back. If you have kidnapped Courtney, please don’t harm her. I will pay for her return. Contact me directly at 606-2315.
“Oh crap.” Jackson shuddered at the calls the poor woman would get.
“What about Danette?” Kera complained, her voice rising. “I talked to Trina Waterman this afternoon. I e-mailed her a digital file.”
In the background, Waterman continued her broadcast: Another young woman was reported missing today as well. Danette Blake, age twenty, has not been seen since a doctor’s appointment this morning. The police are investigating, but so far they do not believe foul play is involved. Danette’s picture flashed briefly on the screen as Waterman spoke, then she switched to a traffic accident on Beltline Road.
Kera muted the sound. “Who is Courtney Durham? What is going on that two young women are missing? And why does Courtney’s disappearance get more coverage than Danette’s?”
Jackson had no good answers. “Courtney Durham is a rich party girl who has willingly disappeared before. Mrs. Durham got air time because the Durhams probably own the news building, maybe even the station.”
Kera made the connection. “Oh, those Durhams.” A second later. “That’s bullshit.”
“What’s bullshit?” his daughter asked from the doorway, holding Micah on her hip.
“You don’t get to say that word.” Jackson tried to never swear in front of his daughter.
“Kera said it.”
“She’s earned the privilege.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have.” Kera turned to Jackson. “Could these disappearances be connected?”
“It’s possible, but I just don’t see how. Zapata believes Courtney will turn up on her own. She has a history of bad behavior that includes running off without telling her mother.” Jackson shook his head. “I wish Mrs. Durham hadn’t announced her willingness to pay a ransom. She’s going to get calls from thugs who will try to shake her down.”
“What if Courtney was kidnapped? How much money can they demand?”
Kera was asking what he thought the Durhams were worth. Jackson could only speculate. “If she’s been kidnapped, they know who she is and they’ll probably ask for millions.”
“I feel sorry for her,” Katie said. “I guess being rich is not always a good thing.”
Jackson looked at his daughter with pride. “It can be a problem. It’s too bad making that kind of money can put your children at risk.”
“In more ways than one,” Kera added. After a moment, “What do we do next about Danette?”
“We keep talking to her friends. We try to find the boyfriend. We print posters with her picture and put them up all over town.”
“Can I help?” Katie asked.
“Of course.” Kera smiled at his daughter. “Once I get the posters printed, you can help me distribute them.”
And I’ll look for a connection between the two women, Jackson thought.
Chapter 10
Wednesday, April 8, 7:55 a.m.
Jackson hurried into the U-shaped building that housed city hall and police headquarters. Every time he noticed the non-staggered masonry, he hoped the public safety department would get a new building before the five-hundred-year earthquake hit. If the building collapsed, it would take all the patrol cars parked under it, leaving citizens to fend for themselves.
He was at his desk only a few minutes when Sergeant Lammers called him back to her office. He stopped in the bathroom on the way, thinking his surgery couldn’t come soon enough. The pain was easier to take than this constant pressure.
“Jackson, how are you feeling?” Lammers gestured for him to sit.
“Just fine.”
“Good. I need you to investigate Courtney Durham’s disappearance.”
“Why? It’s not my usual department, and Detective Zapata doesn’t believe she’s really missing.”
“Elle Durham specifically asked for you to be assigned to her daughter’s case. Since you don’t have a homicide investigation right now, there’s no reason not to make Ms. Durham happy.”
“How did she come to ask for me?” Jackson was skeptical.
“She said you asked intelligent questions when she was filing the missing persons report. I said you were our best investigator. She said she wanted you to find Courtney.”
“Money talks.”
“In this case, it does more than talk.” Lammers let out a harsh laugh. “It may buy us a new building.”
Jackson opened his mouth to speak, changed his mind. He hated the politics of money. Even more, he hated being manipulated by it. Nothing he could say would change the reality. He was also pleased by the assignment. It would give him an excuse to keep investigating Danette’s disappearance too. “I’ll do my best to find her.”
“Thank you.” Lammers sounded sincere.
Jackson headed down the hall to Robert Zapata’s desk. The officer was putting on his jacket. “Hey, Jackson. What’s up?”
“Sergeant Lammers assigned me to Courtney Durham’s case.”
Zapata looked surprised. “Ms. Durham must be throwing her weight around.”
“Did you see her on the news last night?”
“No. Did she make a public appeal?”
“She offered money to get her daughter back.”
“Oh shit.”
“Why do you think she’s so desperate? I mean, since Courtney has a history of bad behavior that includes disappearing for days at a time?”
“Maybe it’s a ploy to make her daughter feel guilty. You know, the look-what-you-put-me-through crap.” Zapata picked up a black zippered notebook.
“Interesting. You’re headed out?”
“I was going to stop by Diego’s and talk to the staff and show Courtney’s picture around.” He put the notebook down, unzipped it, and handed Jackson a photo. “If you’re taking the case, you might as well do the legwork.”
“Taking this case wasn’t my idea.”
Zapata grinned. “Better you than me. I don’t like wasting my time.”
As Jackson pulled out of the underground parking lot, he thought about driving the few blocks to Diego’s, then changed his mind. Courtney had been to the club late in the evening. If he wanted to catch the bartender or cocktail waitress who had served Courtney or the customers who might have seen her, it would be best to stop in after nine this evening. He headed for the south hills instead.
The Durham estate was off Fox Hollow on its own little street. From the bottom of the driveway, the building looked more like an elite luxury spa than
a single-family home. Jackson guessed about five-thousand square feet. As he drove up, he spotted a tennis court off to the left. He parked in front of the four-car garage and felt the cameras on him as he trotted over to the main entrance. He’d called ahead and Elle Durham was expecting him.
Still, the staff woman who answered the door said, “Ms. Durham is with her acupuncturist right now. She’ll be out in ten minutes. Please have a seat.” The woman started to walk away, but Jackson called out, “Excuse me. I need a moment of your time.”
“Yes?” She looked surprised. She was in her fifties but looked well cared for and was comfortably dressed in black cotton slacks and pullover.
“What’s your name?”
“Helen Joseph.”
“What do you do here?”
“I’m the housekeeper.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Sixteen years.”
“When was the last time you saw Courtney?”
“Late Monday afternoon. I saw her in the gym when I picked up the towels. I left here at five o’clock.” Her answer sounded practiced, as if she’d been through it a few times. She didn’t look worried.
“What gym?”
Helen pointed toward the back of the house.
Of course they had a gym. “Do you have any idea where Courtney is?”
“None.” She kept her face deadpan. Jackson suspected she had some interesting stories to tell, but sixteen years on the job meant she was loyal and discreet.
“Thanks. I may have more questions later.”
After she left, Jackson decided to look around. It was part of the job. The first two rooms he wandered into, a sitting room and a library, gave him little information except that the Durhams had more money than he’d realized. Hearing voices at the end of the second hallway, he headed in that direction. He needed to interview everyone in the household.
Halfway down, Elle came out of an intersecting hall. “Hello again, Detective Jackson. Thank you for coming.” She grabbed his arm and steered him back the way she had come from. “Let’s talk in my office.”
Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 03 - Thrilled to Death Page 6
