by Stacy Green
My turn to still. United States Attorney Cameron Dietz, operating out of Philadelphia for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. A newsmaker, Dietz looked like a retired model and had the whitest teeth of any man I’d ever seen. He’d just won a big case against an organized crime family, and he’d reveled in giving interviews on the courthouse steps. The distinguished attorney always wore a tie bright enough to match his teeth. But who was his wife? I didn’t remember a Dietz coming into the salon. “What’s his wife’s name?”
“Feet.” Preacher’s eyes rolled back in his head.
I smacked his cheek, and slowly, like spoiled milk that’s curdled, the whites of his eyes rolled back down, and he focused on me. “No, U.S. Attorney Dietz. What’s his wife’s name?”
“She does feet.” His words were slurred. “Fat bitch too.”
Then I remembered. Amanda Rollins, Sarah’s client the night I stole the phone. Of course. Sarah must have freaked out and told her it was missing. “So what’s Attorney Dietz’s preference? Little girls or boys?”
“Sarah,” Preacher said. “Him and Sarah.”
“An affair?” So Sarah was making money off the wife and doing her husband at the same time, plus dealing little kids. Why did Sarah Jones deserve justice again?
Preacher closed his eyes, pursed his lips. His head jerked up and down. I took that for a nod. “Long time. His wife’s a bitch and has all the money. Big prenup.”
Anger coursed through me. I pressed the scalpel against the soft skin beneath his eye. “You’re lying. Sarah wouldn’t share this information with you.”
“Riley. She and Sarah buds. Riley told me, ’cause she my girl and she know her place.”
The scalpel trembled. A tiny droplet of blood oozed out of Preacher’s skin. I caught it before it hit the mattress.
“Is that why you took her friend’s little boy for your sick site?”
His mouth opened and closed, making me think of the trout that flopped against the bottom of the boat when Mac and I went fishing. I never could kill them. He had to take care of that messy deed. “That’s right. I found The Candy Market. Quite smart using obscure Philadelphia historical figures. A nice middle finger to the authorities unable to bring you down. And too smart for you to think of. Boss’s idea?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you take the little guy from Riley to punish her?”
“She felt bad. Wasn’t hard to do.”
I could probably slice through his carotid with this scalpel and let him bleed out. But that left evidence that was impossible to clean up, and I still needed information. Fighting for control, I pushed on. “So Dietz stood to lose money and his reputation. He thinks I know about his affair and figures this is the easiest way to get rid of me. But what if the charges don’t stick?”
“How should I know?” Preacher snapped. His shoulder jerked. “And I’m glad that bitch is dead. You know what she did? That night you tried to blackmail her, you naughty girl? She came to me at Ward 8 and said she wanted out. I had to take her back to the salon and show her I was boss.”
“You did kill her.”
He grimaced. I tightened my grip on the scalpel and checked my watch. Twenty minutes had passed. Ketamine trips could last anywhere from a half hour to hours, depending on the person. Preacher might be having a short ride.
“Nope. Just smacked her around until she understood how things was.” The corner of his mouth twitched up as he tried to smile. “Took that gold locket she loved. Begged my ass to give it back, said her mama gave it to her, and I said I would if she proved her loyalty to me. See, I knew she’d been visiting that Senator’s office. Told my boss that too. Just waiting to hear from him on how to handle her. But I put her in line, thought maybe she’d be good. But someone else didn’t.”
Sarah met with the Senator? That meant he recognized the name and hadn’t said a damned word. I didn’t have time to think about it right now–Preacher’s fingers were moving.
“She alive when I left her.”
“You think your boss killed her?”
This time, his laugh actually produced some noise. “Never gets his hands dirty.”
I straddled him, pressing the scalpel between his eyes. “What’s his name?”
“I told you I don’t know. We only communicate online, and he’s smart. Got himself protected. He’s the one who runs the website too. I don’t handle that shit. I’m a people guy.”
“You’re just a stupid street pimp who didn’t think to investigate,” I corrected him. “Don’t you know anything about manipulating people? Or are your skills limited to vulnerable girls?”
“What’d you mean?”
“You could have found out who he was, turned the tables, took control. Made my life easier.” He disappointed me. We weren’t as equal as I’d thought. He probably hadn’t even figured out I was really going to kill him yet. What a fool.
“Riley. Where can I find her?”
“This week got her in a place not too far away. Motel-North. She working right out of there. But she won’t betray me. Got that girl right where I want her.”
“If you were so mad at Sarah, why’d you go back the next day to pay her?”
“Because money talks, don’t it?” This time, his entire body twitched. I didn’t have any more time to waste.
I slid off him and grabbed the other syringe out of my bag.
“No more.” Both shoulders moved, his face looking strained.
“I have to take care of you. And you’ll never know what happened. Painless. That’s more than I can say for some.”
Understanding ricocheted across his face. My pulse kicked up at the fear brimming in his eyes. “You’re really going to kill me?”
“You’re a bad person. How many kids have you pimped out over the last few years?”
“They’re willing!”
I had to drop the scalpel, or I would have stabbed him. “Really? The ones you bring in from other states? The boys? That sweet little boy Riley was babysitting? Is he willing? What about his mother? Did you dope her up until she didn’t care if you took him or not? And the girls you prey on and beat down until they’re broken? They’re willing?”
“You’re too pretty to be a killer, you won’t do this.” Even facing death, the pimp tried to worm his way into my good graces. Sad thing was, he probably believed he could do it.
I started laughing. “Oh honey, if you only knew. This isn’t my first time.”
Sheer terror, his body dumbly thrashing, trying to get his arms and legs to move and defend himself. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Your boss? That’s the only thing that will keep you alive.”
“Don’t know his name, but I know how he works. He knew I had girls. He contacted me, said he had access to people who wanted more than just street hookers, and how’d I like to make some real money? So we set up our business. All on the Internet–you saw it! We got people who bring in boys and girls from Ohio and New York, mostly. Sarah’s phone had all them clients.”
“Do you keep records?”
Tears sprang into his eyes. “Only of who I pay.”
“I want the boss. And the johns. How did Sarah get involved?” What a waste of space this guy was. All bluster and no brawn at the end. How could he get involved in this whole mess with no inside information in case he needed it? He wasn’t even worthy of being a captain. Preacher was just a grunt.
“The boss found her. Said she was perfect for what we were doing. Needed a lot of money, and she couldn’t turn us down. He sent me to her.”
“It was more than just money he had on her, wasn’t it? What was it?”
“He didn’t tell me much. Just to drop the name Sam, so I did. And she bent right over and started dealing.”
“So,” I climbed back on top of him, unbuckling his belt. I grazed his flaccid penis, and his choking breaths eased. As if he thought I was going to reward him. I worked his pants down to his knees. He’d dribbled urine on his red underwear. �
��We’ve got Sarah having an affair with U.S. Attorney Dietz. Dietz has a lot to lose if that’s found out. Did he know about Sarah’s involvement with you?”
“No. I don’t know, Riley might know.”
“And it was just your partner, you, and Sarah?”
“Yeah. No one else.”
“So small staff, wide operation. How many working kids you have?”
He tried to grind his hips into my hands, as if that would suddenly change his fate. Disgusting. “About thirty right now, not counting my girls. They mine. Boss don’t care about them. Don’t make enough money to keep him happy.”
“Where are the kids I saw on your website?”
“Lots of places. Motels in North Philly. Couple at a project. I’ll show you.”
“No, you won’t. As soon as you get full function back, you’ll try to beat me like your other girls. But you see,” I leaned forward, letting the tip of the needle graze the big muscle of his thigh. “I’m not like the other girls. I’m the one who will fight back. Who’s smarter than you. And the last face you’ll ever see.” I stuck the needle into the muscle, pushed down the plunger.
“Please…” The begging trailed off as the next dose took over. With the other shot still in his system, Preacher was so far gone he could no longer speak. For a moment I thought he’d lost consciousness, but his bloodshot eyes darted from side to side.
I could leave him like this. Ketamine destroys the memory, and chances are he would have little recollection of the episode. But I couldn’t take the risk.
And he was an enabling piece of trash.
I reached for the pillow. His eyes followed my movement. He knew.
My lips brushed his immobile mouth. “This is for Riley. And the little boy you stole from her friend. And every child whose life you helped steal away.”
I pressed the pillow over his face and lay on top of it. He couldn’t struggle. His chest was the only thing that moved, gasping and sucking for air. I pressed harder. My heart pounded and sweat beaded on my temple. My cheeks hurt. I realized I was smiling. Gripping the pillow more tightly, I folded over the sides of his head, clamping the material over his ears.
It took him seventy-two seconds to die.
I sat the pillow aside and called Chris.
27
“You said you might not kill him.” Chris stood at the foot of the bed staring at Preacher’s body. He fiddled with the latex gloves I’d made him put on before he touched anything.
“It didn’t work out that way,” I said.
“Was it the ketamine?”
I nodded. Easier for him to believe the lie.
He rubbed the back of his hair and then stopped. “Jesus, I probably just left evidence.”
“No one is going to come looking for him,” I said. “He set himself up. Used a fake name. Who knows if he told anyone. But this hotel doesn’t keep records–they didn’t even take my identification. And they definitely don’t want the cops around. We just have to get rid of him before he makes a mess.”
The hardness in my voice surprised me. I’d never disposed of a body before. Until today, Brian Harrison was the only victim whose death I witnessed. I made my escape before the others could die. But I saw Brian take his last breath, and I thought the reality of my actions scarred me. Instead, the wound had healed incorrectly, leaving an infectious tissue that seemed hell-bent on making me a mindless predator.
“How’d you luck out and get the room closest to the fire escape?”
I couldn’t help the smile. “Preacher saved me the trouble of requesting it. My guess is for an easy escape if he needed it. Like I said, he set himself up.”
“The rig is around the corner.”
“You didn’t have any trouble getting it?”
Chris shook his head. “It’s an old one no one will miss. But just enough not to draw attention.”
His offer to provide the ambulance had surprised me. “You’re awfully calm. I expected you to be running around the room.”
“Yeah well,” he turned to me with an imperceptible gaze, “I learned from the best, didn’t I?”
He rolled out his sleeping bag, revealing the black body bag.
“Something else you stole?”
“You can buy these online. Seriously.”
“Gross. Okay, so you’ve dealt with bodies as a paramedic. I’ll let you take the lead.”
Chris laid out the body bag next to Preacher. The sound of the zipper made me shiver. He arranged the plastic bag so that it was open and then motioned for me to take Preacher’s ankles. “He’ll be heaviest at the top.”
“Wait.” I’d nearly forgotten. “We need to check his pockets, make sure we take his wallet. I’ll get rid of it somewhere, but it will make him a lot harder to identify if he’s found.”
“Fine. You do it.”
Preacher’s left pocket was empty. In his right was a fine gold locket I recognized. “Sarah’s. Just what I need to have on me.” I tossed it in my bag. Chris rolled him over, and I wrestled his wallet out of his back pocket. Whatever hope I had of finding all the answers quickly faded. Nothing but cash and IDs. One of them was Riley’s. At least I’d have that to bargain with when I went to find her.
“You ready?”
I nodded.
“On three, we’ll lift him.” Chris crawled on top of the bed and positioned himself at the front of Preacher’s body. He stared down at the dead man’s open eyes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Me either, but we need to get it done. And I’ll owe you my life.”
“My mother?”
“Yes. The second I’m not a wanted fugitive, we’ll go after her with everything I have.” I grabbed Preacher’s ankles while Chris shoved his hands under Preacher’s shoulders.
“One, two, three.” We lifted, my back straining to maintain his heavy weight. The bed shifted with our efforts, and the bag dropped to the floor. “Put him down,” Chris said.
I let Preacher’s heavy legs fall. “What now?”
“I’ll lift him up at the waist, you slide the bag under. Then we’ll do the feet.” His tone was all businesslike now. He pushed at Preacher’s shoulders until the dead man was sitting up. I glanced back at the mirror hanging directly across from the bed. Preacher’s dead eyes stared back. Behind him, Chris’s blue ones were nearly as vacant.
I slipped the bag in place. Then we worked at his feet. In five minutes we had him zipped up and we were both panting.
“Now,” I said. “There’s only one guy on duty downstairs and one elevator. You bring the ambulance around and park at the fire escape. We know there are no security cameras, but you don’t want to be seen. Keep your hood up. I’ll stand watch at the elevator while you get him into the ambulance.”
Chris’s head bobbed up and down as I spoke. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he looked ready to bolt.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “You walk away now and the harm is minimal. I’ll get rid of him myself.”
“I can handle it. You’re going to need my help with Mary, and this is a good test run. Besides, he wanted to put his hands on you and treat you like trash. That’s enough for me to compartmentalize.”
“Right,” I said. “You see death on the job. You know how to block it out. Compartmentalize like you just said.”
“Something like that.” He looked at his watch. “It’s nearly three a.m. Let’s get out of here before people start waking up.”
Preacher was loaded into the ambulance twenty minutes later. I wiped the room down with a strong disinfectant before we left, stripping the sheets and bringing the covers with me to burn.
“You’re right, this sucker is old.” I climbed into the passenger seat and glanced behind me. Preacher was strapped to a gurney. In the darkness, I couldn’t see if the ambulance was fully loaded, but we wouldn’t need medical supplies. “Where are we going?”
“Northwest. Lots of forests up there. We can dispose of his body, cover him with snow. The b
ears will find him in the spring before the park rangers.”
“Good idea.”
We drove silently for a while, lost in our own thoughts. Chris seemed resigned to becoming an accomplice to murder. I guess he’d accepted that’s what being the closest part of my life meant.
“Why are you doing this for me?”
“I already told you.” We got out of the city just as the sun began to peek over the horizon. Maybe the temperature would climb above zero today.
“You already had my promise to help with Mother Mary, so it’s more than that.”
“I can’t handle you going away,” he said.
“To prison?”
He nodded. “That means doing whatever it takes to keep you out.”
“How’d I become so important to you? I’m not special. I’m dangerous. Unstable.”
“You’re the only person who understands me. Or at least comes close to having some real comprehension of what I’ve been through. I trust you.” His voice softened, his face flushed. His eyes remained fixed on the road.
The serenity from killing Preacher began to wear off, and my emotions started to roll out of their prison. “I’m not sure I’m worthy of that trust.”
“Too late,” he gave me a weak grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”
I rubbed my stinging eyes. “Guess so.”
By the time we reached the national forest, I’d recounted all of Preacher’s confessions to Chris.
“Ketamine,” he whistled. “Who knew it was basically like a truth serum?”
“Forget about that. What do you think about Dietz going to all this trouble to have me arrested instead of just pulling a good old-fashioned power play and threatening me?”
“Maybe it’s not his style. Or maybe he’s planning on swooping in once you’re incarcerated and offering to save the day if you comply.”
“That fits with a man like him.”
We drove through a back entrance with so many trees the ambulance barely fit through. I could only hope there were no rangers around to ask what we were doing. I wasn’t sure how we’d explain a morning drive in the state forest with a dead body. Chris finally stopped at the top of a hill where the brush was thick and the decline steep.
