by Robin Mahle
“Of course,” Druseburg began. “Detective Franks, I can be at your office by ten a.m. tomorrow morning. Will that suffice?”
“Yes. Thank you for your cooperation,” Franks replied.
Druseburg showed them to the front door. “Good evening, gentlemen, and ladies.” He closed the door and engaged the lock. Returning to the foyer, he stopped as his housekeeper approached.
“Is everything all right, Mr. Druseburg?” she asked.
“Yes, everything’s fine, Nancy. Why don’t you go ahead and call it a night. I won’t be needing anything else.”
“Thank you, sir. Good night.”
“Good night, Nancy.”
Martin Druseburg walked back into the living room and retrieved his cell phone from the side table. He ascended the large staircase to the first landing and turned to watch the headlights outside fade from view. Continuing up to his bedroom, he pulled open the door and switched on the light. His eyes shifted to the back of the room where a keypad lay hidden behind a piece of artwork on the wall. A combination of numbers were entered when he approached and the wall slid open. What was revealed inside was an opulent bed with thick coverings and pillows; a small bathroom was adjacent.
Druseburg’s time with Madlena, or Aster, as he knew her, had been almost finished, but she’d decided she wanted a way out—a way out of everything, by all accounts. He inhaled the floral scent that still lingered in the room where she stayed, ready for him at any time.
He opened the contacts on his phone and pressed the name. “It’s Druseburg. Apparently, they found her.”
» » »
The room in which Nicola slept was little more than a closet, but her mother had just given her an old television handed down by a coworker and friend that made her accommodation slightly more palatable. At least she wouldn’t have to sit in the living room with her brothers watching them play video games or some basketball game. Nicola didn’t care for basketball, or any other sport, for that matter. She was a pretty typical twelve-year-old girl with the exception that she was an immigrant. Born in Croatia, her mother brought her and her brothers to America a couple of years ago.
It was a hard life where they lived before. Recession had gripped the country for the past several years. That was why, when Nicola’s father died, her mother brought them here. He worked in the shipyards, building cargo ships, and had a fatal accident. Her mother had family already living in America and so they all packed up and moved to Richmond.
Nicola’s mother was now working two jobs. A housekeeper at a hotel by day and a waitress at a local restaurant that her distant relatives owned by night. Of course, she was paid in cash. Her mother had no social security number. Nicola enrolled in middle school without any questions regarding her personal history, but she had no legal identification either. Nor did her brothers.
They could’ve worked, but Nicola thought they were just too lazy. Instead, they sat in front of the TV playing on the Xbox that seemed to magically appear in their living room one day.
Her brother, Gregor, was kind-hearted, but often fell into the shadow of Vito, the eldest of the children. Now, as Nicola sat perched on a small beanbag chair on her floor watching Cartoon Network, she began to hear the rumblings of the brothers’ return home.
It was Vito’s voice she heard. Harsh, like he was angry, and she wondered why. Nicola stood up and tiptoed to her bedroom door. She pulled it open just a crack and leaned an ear towards it.
“It’s not like we have a choice, Gregor. You’re in this now just as much as I am.”
The two spoke in their native tongue mostly because Gregor’s English was so poor. It was the only time Nicola was exposed to Croatian and she was glad to still understand it. It made her feel connected to her home, to her father. She continued to listen.
“This is your fault. You shouldn’t have gotten involved with Toma. I told you he was bad news. Everybody knows that. How could you do those things, Vito? How could you be a part of finding innocent girls and taking them from their homes?” Gregor asked.
“I only did what Toma hired me to do. I never hurt any of them. I swear it. How do you think I got all that money? You think Mama brings home enough money to support all of us? I did what I had to do. It was what Dad would have wanted.”
“No. No. Tata was a good man, a hard-working man. He would never do what you did. You took our people, our sisters and let them be sold to big, fat, rich American men.”
Nicola gasped as she quickly pulled away from the door. Had she heard Gregor right? Were her brothers involved somehow in the deaths of those women down the street? No, it couldn’t be. They wouldn’t do that. She stepped back towards her twin bed and lowered herself down.
That lady, that FBI agent, Nicola thought. Gregor must not have known or else he would have never agreed to talk to her that day. Vito was a part of it and was dragging Gregor down with him. Nicola noticed that the voices stopped. Footsteps were nearing her door now.
“Nicola!” Vito pushed the door open wide. He studied her eyes.
She did her best to appear calm, as though she hadn’t heard anything, but she sensed Vito knew better. “What is it? I’m watching TV, what do you want?”
Vito looked at the small television that rested on her chest of drawers and then back at Nicola again. “Nothing. I just didn’t know you were home. I thought I heard something. Everything okay?”
“Fine. Can I go back to watching my cartoons? I already did my homework.”
Vito cast a sideways glance to Gregor, who had caught up to him. “Yes, of course. So long as your schoolwork is finished. You wouldn’t want to disappoint Mama.” He closed the door.
“No. Don’t want to disappoint Mama,” she replied.
THIRTEEN
It was a relatively small police station by comparison, but this wasn’t as large a city as San Diego. And as the agents waited in Detective Franks’ office, other officers seemed to move with speed and purpose around them.
“We don’t get a lot of this type of thing,” Franks began. “I’ve dealt with my share of murders and violent crimes, but human trafficking isn’t something I’m accustomed to handling. Especially considering the high-profile of our primary suspect.” She dropped a file onto her desk. “This is what we’ve got so far.”
Nick picked up the file that contained the coroner’s report and the photos from the scene where the victim was found. “The sooner we get a statement from Druseburg, the better.”
“I understand and we will make sure he’s down here tomorrow. My guess is that he’s already on the phone with his lawyer,” Franks replied.
“We’ve got his DNA from the victim, but in no way does that prove he played a part in her death,” Nick said.
“What about the tattoo?” Kate started. “Did you hear what he called her?”
Nick turned to Kate and revealed a knowing grin. “Aster. That’s a flower, right? Agent Reid, wouldn’t you say that the tattoo on the victim resembled a daisy-type of flower?”
“Yes.”
“And am I correct in assuming an Aster is similar to that?”
Kate pulled out her phone and quickly Googled “Aster Flower.” An image of a purple flower with petals similar to a daisy appeared. She held out her phone so they could see the image. “I’d say so.”
“Phone records,” Jameson began. “We need to know who he’s been talking to, who arranged for the meeting with the victim. I’ll give you three guesses as to who it was.”
“What we need is a warrant to search his property,” Kate said. “If we can search his car and check the traffic cameras in the vicinity of the laundromat, we might be able to find out if he was in the area that night and if there’s any evidence to suggest she was inside that car.”
“Then we need to get a judge to issue a warrant. On a guy like this, we’d better have a compelling reason to request one,” Franks interrupted. “I think we need to hear his statement first, then we can talk to a judge.”
S
carborough agreed. “There’s not much more we can do tonight. Detective Franks, can you post a patrolman near Druseburg’s place and let us know if he goes anywhere? If he does, we’ll need to put a tail on him.” Nick picked up the file. “You mind if I hang on to this? We’ll be back in the morning and I’ll return it then. I’d just like to have some of this data entered into our case file.” Nick pushed up from his seat. “We’ll head back to the hotel. Call me if you need anything or if Druseburg leaves.”
The detective began to show the agents out. “Will do. Get some rest. I’m sure you’ve all had a long day.”
“It’s been a long week,” Jameson replied. “Thank you. Pleasure to be working with you.”
» » »
Because she’d been awake since five a.m., spent half the day in training and then hopped on a flight, Kate felt as though the hour was much later than it was. The hotel was just ahead and Kate envisioned her head hitting the pillow. She retrieved her cell phone to check for messages as Nick pulled into the parking lot. Two missed calls from Will.
He turned off the engine and, alert as ever, Nick asked, “Who wants a drink?”
This was not in her plan, but looking at Dwight, Kate noticed he appeared keen on the idea too. “Okay. Sure, one drink, then I’ve got to get some sleep.”
Nick tossed his arm over the seat and turned toward her in the back. “I’m sorry, but aren’t you the youngest in this little group of ours and you’re tired?”
“It’s the Academy,” Dwight replied. “Don’t worry, Kate. This one here might not remember what it was like, but I’m not that far removed and I remember it quite well. It’s okay if you want to skip it.”
“No, no. It’s fine. One drink. It’ll probably help me sleep anyway.”
“That’s what I say,” Nick replied.
As they walked inside, the small bar tucked into the corner of the hotel lobby was empty. Then again, they were staying on the outskirts of town, far away from the excitement of the beach.
“Wow, the place is hopping.” Nick raised his brow to emphasize his sarcasm and hiked up his pants. He strutted inside like he was some sort of peacock. Maybe because they’d finally gotten somewhere on the investigation, Nick seemed to be feeling pretty good right about now.
Kate sat down at the closest table and glanced at her phone again. Will hadn’t left any messages, just missed calls.
“Anything urgent?” Nick asked.
Kate looked up, “Hmm? Oh, no, nothing urgent.” She figured he could see through her, but he chose not to comment.
“What do you want to drink?” Nick pulled out his wallet.
“Just a house white, thanks.”
Nick and Dwight returned with their beers and Nick held Kate’s wine. “Here you go.”
“Thanks” She sipped on the wine that was much too dry for her taste.
Dwight pulled out his barstool and sat down. “So, we wait until tomorrow, until we can get Druseburg’s statement.” He gulped from the heavy pint glass that left a small foam mustache on his face. He quickly wiped it away with his tongue.
“We can’t wait forever. I need to get with Detective Garrett and find out if he’s made any progress. Let’s hope he has and someone was willing to talk.” Nick replied.
“If I can get Druseburg’s phone records, I have no doubt Corbett’s name will turn up. If we find him, then we’ll find his partner and we can put this to bed.” Dwight replied, taking another large gulp. It appeared he had wanted to put the job behind him for a moment and turned to Kate. “So how goes the training? You’ve got what? Like seven or eight weeks left?”
“About that. It’s going well.” Kate glanced to Nick, assuming he wouldn’t say otherwise, even if that was, at least, partially the case. “Just need to work on a few things, but I’m getting through it. I’ll get through it.”
“I’m sure you will. Scarborough wouldn’t have recommended you if he didn’t think you could handle it. I can tell you one thing, your skills were not being fully utilized where you were before. You’re a pretty tough kid, Kate Reid.”
“Kid? Really?” She laughed. “You’re what, four maybe five years older than me?”
“Maybe—something like that,” Dwight replied with a smile.
“I think that’s the first I’ve heard you laugh in a long time, Kate,” Nick said. “I almost forgot what it sounded like.”
The three of them had been through a lot together. Kate felt like she owed a lot to the both of them. “Well, you’d think working with you two clowns, I’d be laughing every day.”
The sound of their amusement echoed through the small bar and into the lobby, drawing the attention of the man attending the front desk.
Kate noticed his glare. “Oops. Guess we were a little loud.”
“Ah, screw him.” Nick swatted his hand. “He has no idea the kind of shit we deal with every day. We deserve a goddamn laugh once in a while.”
“Okay, okay, calm down there, Sparky.” Dwight patted Nick’s shoulder. “I don’t think the guy meant anything. We just caught his attention, that’s all.”
“Whatever. I need a real drink.” Nick stood up. “Anyone else want anything?”
Kate still had half a glass. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“I’ll take another beer,” Dwight replied.
Once Kate felt confident Nick was out of earshot, she looked at Dwight. “What’s going on with him? He seems wound up tonight.”
“Tonight? Try most nights lately.” Dwight tossed a look over his shoulder to ensure Nick wasn’t heading back. “I don’t know. I think it’s got something to do with Myers. I’ve known Scarborough a long time and he isn’t much for being tied down. It’s damn near impossible with this job anyway. But I think it bothers him that Myers expects him to be around more than he is.”
“She’s gone just as often. That doesn’t make any sense,” Kate replied.
“I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about it much, except when he’s had a few. I’m not sure dating someone you work with is a good idea anyway.”
Kate noticed the apologetic look immediately appear on Dwight’s face.
“I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean…”
She raised a pre-emptive hand. “No, please, it’s fine. I know you didn’t mean anything…”
“I didn’t. I swear. I saw the two of you together. I saw what you did for each other. You two were different. In most cases, I wouldn’t recommend dipping the old pen in the company ink, but you and Marshall were different.”
Kate grinned. “Thanks, Dwight.”
Nick returned with a drink for himself and a beer for Dwight. “You sure you don’t want anything else, Kate? That glass is looking a little low now.”
“No, I’m good. I have any more and you all might have to carry me to bed, I’m so damn tired.”
“All right, all right, ya wimp,” Nick replied.
Kate turned up her palms and shrugged. “What can I say? It’s hard to hang with you boys.” She took the final few sips of her drink. “Well, that’s it for me. I’m off to my room.” She jumped off the barstool, dabbed the corners of her mouth, and set her cocktail napkin next to the empty wine glass. “I’ll see you two bright and early.” She reached inside her small purse for a ten.
“Put your money away, Reid. Good night,” Dwight said.
“Night.” Nick followed with a raise of his glass as if he was making a toast. He watched her walk away and turned back to Dwight, who had in turn been watching him.
“You all right, man?” Dwight asked. “You seem on edge. Is it this case, ‘cause you know you can’t let this shit get to you. I’m pretty sure you’re the one who said that to me a long time ago.”
“No. It’s not the case. Well, maybe part of it. Hell, I don’t know. I just got a lot on my mind.” He tossed back the rest of his Jack and Coke.
“Uh-huh. Any of it have to do with that pretty dark-haired woman who just left?”
Nick appeared as though being unjustly acc
used of something.
“Come on, man. You feel responsible for her. I get it. I didn’t stop Avery from going to Shalot’s place. I feel responsible for what happened to him. And I gotta look into Kate’s eyes and see it all the time too.”
“You didn’t know that was where he was going,” Nick replied.
Dwight only shrugged. “You didn’t know either. But for some reason, you feel as though her success at Quantico, as an agent, all rests on your shoulders. As if her failure would be your failure.”
“Maybe it would be. You want another?” Nick twirled the ice cubes in his empty glass.
“No, man. I’m good. It’s probably best if you get some rest yourself.” Dwight pushed off the table and to his feet. “Maybe give Georgia a call. It’ll do you some good to talk to her.”
“Sure. You’re right. I’ll do that. Catch up with you in the morning?”
“Absolutely. Good night, Nick.” Dwight turned away and headed towards the elevator.
Nick was alone and cast his eyes to the empty glass, seriously considering another drink. He’d been doing pretty well lately, keeping it in check, but something had set him off tonight and he wasn’t really sure why it had. After considering Dwight’s suggestion to get some rest, he set the glass down and pulled out his wallet. “What do I owe you?” he approached the bartender.
“Forty-three fifty.”
Nick suddenly regretted picking up the tab. He dropped a fifty on the bar. “Thanks.”
“Thank you, sir. Have a good night.”
He had already begun walking away and raised his hand in reply. “Good night.” Nick reached the elevator and pushed the button, staring at the light that illuminated each floor on its way to the bottom. He again thought of what Dwight had said as he stood there waiting. It wasn’t what he’d ever intended—feeling responsible for Kate’s success, but maybe that was what this was. He’d been with her that day, holding her because she couldn’t stand on her own two feet when the doctor said Avery was dead.
