by J. C. Wilder
“It has to do with the Ramirez case, Jason, and we need you to look at a few photographs.”
Where the hell was Ortiz? He was the lead investigator.
He nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Lieutenant Walker, the floor is yours.”
“Thank you, Chief.” Opening a leather portfolio, he withdrew two color photographs and laid them on the table in front of Jason. “Do you recognize this woman, Officer Diver?”
As a cop, Jace had seen bodies in almost every state imaginable. He’d thought himself to be hardened to such sights but this one struck him was particularly rough. The first photo was a close-up of a young woman’s face and, judging from the condition, she’d been in submerged in water. Marine life had done a number on her features rendering her unrecognizable. The second photo was of a small tattoo below her left ear.
“Yes, sir. Her name was Jenny Fields, and she worked as a waitress at Living Dolls.” Jace looked up at Walker, but his expression gave nothing away.
She hadn’t worked there long so he’d only spoken to her a couple of times. His first impression of Jenny was that she was an intelligent woman who could be doing a hell of a lot more than waiting tables in a strip joint.
“When was the last time you saw her, Officer Diver?” The Fed he didn’t recognize spoke.
“And you are?”
The man bristled.
“I’ll handle the questioning, Agent Sanders.” Walker looked irritated at the interruption. “Answer the question, Jason.”
“I’d have to look at my notes, sir. Off the top of my head I’d say it was approximately two weeks ago.”
“Were you aware that Jenny Fields was an alias?”
He frowned. Background checks had been run on the employees and nothing had come up as suspicious that he could remember.
“No, sir.”
“Her real name was Sylvia Michaels and she was an investigative journalist for the Cleveland Plain Dealer.” Walker sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Her editor reported her missing on July tenth.”
Which meant she went missing around the same time he’d last spoken to her.
“Did her editor indicate what was she investigating, sir?”
“Ms. Michaels was working on a story about the lives of women working in the sex industry. Strippers, prostitutes, that sort of thing.” He leaned forward and scanned his open portfolio. “Her editor received a voice mail from her July eight in which Ms. Michaels said, and I quote, ‘This is a much bigger story than I originally thought. If my lead pans out we could be talking a Pulitzer.’” He sat back. “Other than the prostitution and drug trade, do you have any more information you can add?”
“Not off the top of my head. Did she leave any notes or—”
“We’re taking a second look at her apartment today but as of yet, not that we’ve found.” Walker’s gaze slid over to Riker. “She’s not the first employee of the club to come up missing is she, Officer Diver?”
“No, sir.” He looked over at Riker. “The most recent is a man we knew as Manny who worked for Esteban as his driver. It turns out he was a Fed.”
“How…” The fed’s expression went hard. “With regards to the reporter, whoever killed her never meant for her to be found. She was cut into pieces.”
Riker watched him closely, but Jace didn’t flinch.
“Officer Diver.” Walker laid another photograph on the table. “What do you know about Jorge Arroyo-Ramirez?”
Jace barely glanced at it. “Jorge is the half brother of Esteban and Juan, the owners of the club. He’s in his early thirties and worked at the club for a few years as a general manager, and he left seven, eight years ago.” He shrugged. “He makes an appearance every now and then, usually when the brothers are away, but he doesn’t appear to be involved with any of the criminal activity.”
“Is that so?” Riker smirked at him, his contempt unmistakable. “Jorge is not only involved in the business, we believe him to be one of the ringleaders. He’s been under constant surveillance for the past six months.”
Irritation stabbed through him. Whose side were these fools on because they sure weren’t helping Walker’s investigation by withholding information?
“Thanks for sharing.” Jace’s tone was dry. “Wouldn’t that have been advantageous for us to know before now?”
Triumph gleamed in the agent’s eyes. “Why, so you could tip him off?”
His gaze narrowed. Walker looked mad enough to tear off the Fed’s arms and use them for batting practice, and Jace was ready to line up behind him.
“Last night Jorge was seriously injured when someone tried to take his life. Instead of going to a hospital he paid a visit to an old friend.” Riker held out his hand as Agent Sanders handed him a manila folder. “We believe this friend could have access to some very delicate information that could compromise both of our cases and put the lives of our operatives in danger.”
Jace didn’t respond. Riker was so excited he was practically bouncing in his chair.
He opened the folder and shoved it across the table. “I’m sure you recognize this woman, Officer Diver.”
A roaring filled his head when he saw Sissy’s beautiful face looking up at him. The photo was grainy but not so much that he couldn’t recognize her. In one photo, she had her arm around a man in dark clothing and they were walking into her bedroom. The man’s head was down and his face was hidden. Another photograph showed himself and Sissy outside her back door. She was in his arms smiling up at him. He knew that look because he’d been the one to put it there.
“Can you tell us her name, Officer?”
Jace heard the challenge in the agent’s voice as did everyone in the room. He waited a beat before speaking.
“Her name is Sissy Kolchek, and she lives here in Haven. She’s a waitress at the 3C Bar & Grille.” And I’m in love with her, but he didn’t say that out loud.
Riker slid another photo toward him, this one was taken through the sliding glass door when Sissy and Jace were making love. The urge to reach across the table and bash that smirk off the Fed’s face was almost more than he could resist.
“I am concerned that the woman you’re having sex with happens to be intimately involved with the suspects in your current investigation.” His smile was mocking. “Were you aware that this woman was employed at the club at one time?”
Jace’s gut began to churn.
“No?” Riker was gloating now. “For seven months she worked there. Hired as a stripper. She used a fake ID before she was of legal age. It would appear your, uh, girlfriend, is well acquainted with the Ramirez family.”
Jace didn’t realize he’d moved until Ryan grabbed his arm. He knew what the smarmy bastard was thinking. Esteban enjoyed a little half-time activity he called testing the merchandise, which was slang for banging the dancers. So if Sissy worked for the brothers…
“Looks like I struck a nerve there.” Riker looked at Sanders. “I guess Officer Diver doesn’t like to share his meat—”
“That’s enough.” Walker was on his feet so fast that his chair slammed into the wall. “I don’t give a damn who you work for, Riker. You’re conducting yourself like this is a grade school pissing contest. Officer Jason Diver is a decorated, ten-year veteran of the police force, and in no way do I think he’s compromised this case.”
Riker stood and began shouting. “We have documented proof that he’s screwing a woman who helped Jorge Arroyo-Ramirez elude the police last night.”
“Gentlemen,” the chief’s voice cut through the tension like a sword. “This is counterproductive at this point.” He glared at Riker. “Lieutenant Walker is directing this meeting.”
Jace watched as Riker slowly backed down but he didn’t retake his seat.
“We have absolutely no evidence that Ms. Kolchek was in contact with either of the brothers prior to early this morning when Jorge sent her a page.” Walker gave Riker a withering glance. “Officer Diver, were you aware that Ms
. Kolchek was employed at the club?”
“No, sir.” The Fed grunted, but Jace didn’t look in his direction. “Detective Ortiz and I compiled the records of everyone employed at the club in the last five years, and her name was not there.”
“Ms. Kolchek was employed there ten years ago, Officer.” Walker cleared his throat. “You’ve been working hard on this case. I’m sure you are aware of how delicate this situation is.” He looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Chief Sherman was kind enough to offer your services to our investigation, and your assistance has been invaluable…”
No, they couldn’t be thinking of taking him off the case.
“Sir,” Jace broke in. “At no point in time have I spoken of this case to Ms. Kolchek. In fact, I haven’t seen her nor had contact with her during the time I’ve been working in Oak Brook.”
“So you say,” Riker muttered.
“At least half of the cops in Haven are familiar with Ms. Kolchek through her job at the Grille, and she has been a family friend for many years. I’m sure I’m not alone when I say that she would never knowingly compromise a case no matter who was involved—”
“Are you willing to bet your badge on it, Officer Diver?” Riker’s fists struck the table and he leaned toward Jace. “Are you aware of the large financial payment to your girlfriend totaling more than fifty thousand dollars?”
Jesus.
His gaze dropped to the photograph of them outside her back door. A steel band across his chest tightened, and his breathing went shallow. Fifty grand was a hell of a lot of money. What did she have to do to earn that much? Before this meeting he would’ve sworn on a stack of Bibles she’d have nothing to do with any type of criminal activity, but the evidence was certainly damning.
“Not quite so sure of her now, are you?” Riker’s voice was cutting. “What do you suppose she did to make that kind of money? I mean, she was only employed there for six months—”
“You’re out of line, sir.” Ryan’s words were uttered in a low growl.
Chief Sherman began to rise. “Gentlemen…”
“I’d sure like to find out.” Riker laughed and poked Sanders with an elbow. “She’s a beautiful woman, and she probably fucks like—”
One minute Jace was sitting at the table, and the next he had Riker pinned to the wall by his throat. Jace was aware of people grabbing at him and someone was shouting, but the mayhem was drowned out by the beat of his heart. In the end it took Walker and his brothers to pull him off the Fed.
Jace shook off the restraining hands. In all his years on the force, he’d never lost his cool like he did today. If the chief didn’t fire him on the spot he’d be surprised.
“You’re off the case.” Riker’s face was beet red and his voice was raspy. “We’ll be filing charges within the next day or so, Officer Diver.” Sanders was plucking at the agent’s sleeve like a nervous old lady.
Jace crossed his arms and met the Fed’s gaze squarely.
“I’ll have your badge,” Riker hissed.
“You’re welcome to it.” Jace was pleased when he walked past the little prick he flinched. He was out in the hallway before noticing the Chief had followed him.
“Jace.”
“I know. I’m suspended.”
“I’ll see you in my office on Wednesday morning.” The chief looked him in the eye.
“Yes, sir,” he ground out.
Several officers stood in the hallway outside interrogation room number one. Johnny Stephens and Jay Barnes moved to intercept him.
Jay laid a hand on his arm. “Jace, you need to—”
“Not now, guys.”
When he tried to move past them, Picasso, a member of the S.W.A.T. team, planted himself in Jace's path. With his thick arms crossed over a chest the width of Main Street, the only way to move him was a stick of dynamite. Jace glared at him but the man didn’t flinch.
He turned to Jay. “You were saying?”
Chapter Eleven
Sitting in the interrogation room, Sissy wished she’d grabbed a pair of stilettos rather than flat sandals. For the past two hours she’d envisioned attacking Kevin Nobs with the heel of her favorite shoes. It would be a pleasure to hammer one of those suckers right into his skull.
The object of her violent fantasies stood by the door, watching her like Wylie E. Coyote and she was the Road Runner.
She’d been stuck in this little gray room for more than six hours and granted only one bathroom break. It was probably a good thing they’d been stingy with a drink since they seemed to be limiting her trips to the potty.
It didn’t help that she was freezing her ass off either. The thermostat was set low to ensure the officers were comfortable beneath their layers of protective gear. She could sure use a few layers herself right now. Helen Ryder, one of female officers in Haven, had given her a jacket, but it was only a windbreaker. It was about as effective as wrapping herself in a garbage bag.
Lifting her head, she glared at the two-way mirror. She could feel them watching her, waiting for her to make a mistake. They’d have a hell of a long wait because she didn’t know the answers to the questions they’d asked her. Agent Sanders, the one who’d left bruises down her arm, along with another agent she’d nicknamed No-Neck, had been in several times to pepper her with the same questions over and over again though they’d yet to trip her up.
No matter how many times she told them she knew nothing about Jorge’s life they came back at her from another angle. They’d also asked about the Ramirez brothers then stopped just short of calling her a liar when she told them she’d had no contact with them in ten years.
Exhausted and sick to her stomach, she let her chin drop to her chest. It was the photos that almost made her lose it. Someone had watched her during some very private moments, and it was all caught on film. Sissy rubbed her forehead. In the back of her mind she’d dreaded the day any of this came out. Her worst nightmares paled in comparison to the reality she now faced.
Did Jace know what was going on? She lifted her head. He probably did. Johnny was good friends with Ryan; surely he would’ve said something.
Nobs cracked his gum, and she resisted the urge to glare at him. What time was it? They took away her cell phone, and the room didn’t have a clock or a window. She had to go the bathroom so badly her eyes would be floating soon.
“Oh, sorry. I forgot to pass on your request to use the bathroom,” Nobs spoke.
Judging from the smirk on his ugly mug he wasn’t a damn bit sorry at all. She looked from him to the trashcan then back again. Hey, when a girl’s got to go…
“Bet you’re sorry now that you weren’t a little nicer to me.”
So that’s what this little pissing match was about. Nobs had asked her out numerous times, and she’d always turned him down. The last time he’d tried to corner her at the grocery store, and she’d shoved him into a toilet paper display just to get away from him.
“Sorry?” she forced a laugh. “You’re kiddin’, right?” Slamming her hands on the cold metal table she pushed out of her chair. “Only thin’ I’m sorry ’bout is that ya got up after our meetin’ at the grocery store.”
His face flushed, and he made a move toward her. Nobby didn’t scare her. She’d dealt with bullies most of her life, and she could handle him.
“Now, listen up ’cause this is what you’re gonna do.” Bracing her fists on her hips, she met his gaze squarely. “You’re gonna ask someone to escort me to the bathroom then you’re gonna run over to the diner and get me some food, a club sandwich with iced tea will do nicely. Then, you’re gonna tell Agent Sanders and Agent No-Neck that if they’re gonna arrest me they’d better get to it ’cause I’m outta here.”
“I’m not about to do anything of the sort.” He towered over, crowding her and trying to force her to back up, but she wasn’t about to budge. “Now put your ass back in that chair—”
“I want a bathroom break, now.”
When he grabbed her arm, she fli
nched. Her arm was black and blue, and his fat fingers turned the dull ache into stabbing pains. He led her back to her chair and shoved her down.
“Yes, you will,” he spat.
When he moved away, she bounced back up like a Jack in the box. She’d just about had enough of being manhandled today.
“I’ve got rights,” she shouted.
“Criminals shouldn’t have rights,” he gritted. “Now, you sit your ass—”
“Ya’ll can’t keep me here without tellin’ me why.”
“I’m warning you,” he snarled. One hand moved behind her back, but she barely noticed.
“And I want a phone call and someone will take me to the bathroom or…” Her words trailed off when she realized he pointed a Taser gun at her. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She threw up her hands. “Ya can’t shoot me with that, I’m pregnant.”
When Sissy opened her eyes the first thing she saw was Ranger’s face looking down at her. Then she noticed the short hair and realized it was Cowboy instead. Muffled voices surrounded her and her head threatened to split open.
“What happened?” she whispered.
“You hit your head, Sis.”
“That bastard shot me, didn’t he?” She clutched her lower stomach. “I told him, I was pregnant, and he did it anyway.”
“The ambulance is coming in right now.” His voice was soothing, so much like Ranger’s. “They’re going to take you over to the hospital and check you out.”
“Am I hurt? The baby…” She grabbed his hand.
“It’s just a precaution.” He was shaking his head. “When you fell you hit your head on a chair and you’re bleeding.”
“Well, of course I hit my head,” she grumbled. “A trigger-happy cop just shot a million volts through me.”
Two paramedics came into the room bearing a gurney. She heard raised voices coming from the hallway.
“Hey, Sissy.” Connie Brandon set a red box on the floor then donned a pair of bright purple rubber gloves. “You have a big knot on your head, girl. What kind of trouble are you in now?” Her smile was gentle.
