by Scott Pratt
“How about a steak dinner at the Peerless?”
“Sold. I’m a sucker for a T-bone.”
“I’ll swing by, say four-ish? What do you need?”
“Just bring me all you can.”
“You got it.”
Lukas breathed a sigh of relief. Smart might not be able to help, but then again, he might come up with something that would break the case.
Smart had tried to get Lukas to apply to the FBI back when they met, but at the time, Lukas wanted a career as a pararescueman. He loved everything about the job. All of that ended with a bar fight in Anchorage, Alaska, thirty days after Lukas’s older brother, Ben, who was a member of the Marine’s Special Operations Command and whom Lukas idolized, died when the helicopter he was riding in crashed into the Gulf of Mexico near Homestead Air Reserve Base, Florida, during a training exercise. Funny how the world works, Lukas thought. You serve your country in a combat zone, fight the enemy, then end up being run out of the service because a drunk starts a fight in a bar and gets his ass whipped. Lukas had also had a bit too much to drink. He didn’t start the fight, but he’d certainly ended it. Unfortunately for Lukas, the fight also ended his career in the Air Force.
Despite having been decorated and having an impeccable record up to that point, his commanding officers did not take kindly to one of their enlisted men putting an American civilian – even a drunk American civilian – in the hospital for three weeks. At least he didn’t get a bad conduct or a dishonorable discharge. Either one would have been disastrous. They simply told him he was leaving and gave him an honorable discharge. There was no mention of the fight in any of his separation papers. His commanding officer thanked Lukas for his service and unceremoniously sent him on his way.
Lukas made electronic copies of everything in his file, downloaded them onto a jump drive, and arrived at the FBI office more than fifteen minutes early for the meeting with Danny Smart. He was antsy. Smart looked him over with a critical eye. “You look like shit.”
“I feel it, too. Be nice to have a cushy FBI gig.”
“You could have,” Danny reminded him. “Still could.”
“Hell, I won’t even have a career with the JCPD if I can’t put this thing to bed. I need you to rush this and do me a solid.”
Lukas took several minutes going over the details with Smart.
“What’s your instinct tell you?” Danny said.
“I don’t know. My instincts are usually pretty solid, but I’m up in the air on this case. That’s why I’m here. One thing I have is that I think he’s trying to tell some kind of story by the way he’s disposing of and displaying the bodies. I can’t tell you exactly what the story is, though. And the latest murder really has me stumped.”
“Different?”
“More violent for one thing. And the body was placed in the mayor’s driveway.”
“Yeah, I heard,” Danny said, shaking his head. “That’s a little over the top.”
“That’s not all,” Lukas said. “I had a personal connection with the victim.”
“And the plot thickens. What kind of a connection?”
“I arrested her once, she provided information to me from time to time, and her son is on my baseball team.”
“Interesting. I need to look at your file.”
“The other thing is that we have a witness who saw a black man pull a rug out of the trunk of a car near where our latest body was found, but I just don’t feel this guy being black. Can’t explain that, either. I just don’t make him for a black guy.”
“All right,” Smart said. “I’ll look the file over and see if anything jumps out.”
Lukas’s phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen. It was a short text from Brooke asking for a call back when he had time. He stuck the phone into his pocket and looked back at Danny.
“I’ll get something out to you as soon as I can,” Danny said.
“I hate to be pushy, but…” Lukas hoped he didn’t come off as too overbearing.
“I’m sure the brass is up your ass. I get it. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks, man. We can use all the help we can get. Even if it’s from a Fed.”
Danny gave him a friendly smile. “You can get out of my office now.”
Chapter Fourteen
Lukas was at his desk before eight the next morning, checking the tip lines to see if any information had come in overnight. There was no mention of the murders. There were, however, several complaints about speeders and loud parties. Morons. He looked at the field interview reports submitted by beat cops to see if there was any information that might reveal a lead, but there was nothing there, either.
He turned away from the computer and noticed a message he’d missed on a pink sticky note. A woman identifying herself as Claire Andrews had called. She was the mother of his first victim, Jamika Bradley. He had talked to her briefly the night Jamika was murdered. The note said that she had found something that may be of some use. He picked up his desk phone and called the number Claire Andrews had left. She said that she stumbled across something that might be worth a look. He told her he’d be there within the hour. He grabbed his keys and headed for the door just as his phone buzzed. Brooke. She said they were a little light on females for the sting they were planning and encouraged him to get as many female officers as possible. He told her he hoped to hear something more on his end about the task force later that night.
Twenty minutes later, Lukas arrived at Claire Andrews’s home. There were crooked numbers on the faded column that was barely holding up the roof that hung over the porch. He knocked on the door, remembering that the doorbell didn’t work. After two rounds of knocks, the door opened, and a middle-aged, black lady wearing a housecoat that looked as old as she was opened the door.
“It’s good to see you again, Detective Miller,” she said as she waved him into the house.
He stepped into a tidy living room with modest furnishings. Pictures hung on the walls, neatly arranged. They reflected Jamika’s life, from infancy to high school. Lukas remembered how surprised he’d been at how orderly the house was, given its outside appearance.
“It’s hard to believe that’s my Jamika,” the woman said from behind Lukas. “I did my best for her, but once she got on the drugs, she just went downhill. Can I get you something to drink, officer?”
“No thank you, ma’am,” he said. “I appreciate you contacting us. Your message said you found something?”
“I don’t know how much this will help, but…” Her voice faded as she stepped into an adjoining room. She emerged a short time later holding a small worn notebook with flowers on the cover.
“I was looking through her things after she was, you know, gone, and I found this. I flipped to the end and noticed the last entry was on the day she was killed.” She pointed to the entry.
“Meeting RO.”
“Do you have any idea what this means, or who ‘RO’ is?”
“I stayed out of her business. The less I knew, the better.”
“Can I keep this?”
“Be my guest. I was going to throw it out anyway. Like I said, I don’t know how much it will help, if it helps at all.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Andrews, and I’m sorry for your loss.”
“When you find the man who killed my girl, will you call me?”
“I will.”
Lukas went back to the station and logged the notebook into the case file as evidence. He checked his messages. There was a message from Captain Hunter detailing the names of the detectives he had allocated for the hooker sting. He picked up his cell phone and dialed Brooke.
“Hey Lukas. How’d the lead go?”
“Do the letters ‘R.O.’ mean anything to you? They appear to be initials.”
“Not that I can think of. What’s the context?”
Luka
s told her about the meeting with the victim’s mother and the diary entry.
“Could it be a new pimp?” Brooke said after a pause.
“Anything’s possible. Hold on one second.” He unlocked his computer screen and searched the database for persons known to be pimps in the area. “Nobody with those initials shows up here.”
Lukas could hear key strokes on Brooke’s end. “Same here.”
“Ah, it may be nothing. But I’ll look through my case files and see if there’s any mention of anyone with those initials.”
“I’ll do the same,” Brooke said.
“Thanks. Oh, I almost forgot. I got four people for the sting. Two women.”
“So that’s seven total, three women. We need one more girl. Any chance you have any probies that could help us out over there?”
Lukas silently ticked off the number of probationary officers that hadn’t been on the street long enough to develop a police identity. “Might be a couple in the department we could use.”
“You know what?” Brooke said. “On second thought, never mind. I’ll do it.”
“You’ll do what?”
“I’ll do the sting.”
“You mean you’ll be a hooker? I mean, you know what I mean.”
“Sure, and you can be my pimp.”
Lukas laughed. “When do you want to do it?”
“We’ll need some time to get things lined up. How about Friday night?”
Lukas took a quick look at his calendar to make sure there were no conflicts. “Friday’s good for me.”
“Friday night, then. Have your people meet us at headquarters in Kingsport, and we’ll finalize the assignments.”
“I’ll get the word out. Talk to you later.”
Lukas hung up feeling a little more hopeful. He sat in front of the computer thinking about the initials. Or was it an acronym? It could be anything. Another very small lead. But many small leads often led to a break. Eventually. Maybe Friday would bring their killer out of the darkness and put them on the offensive for a change.
Chapter Fifteen
Lukas showered and dressed in jeans, a plain, navy-blue hooded sweatshirt over a tactical shirt, and his favorite pair of Merrells. He checked the magazines on his Sig Sauer and Glock 42 back-up, stuffed his badge and handcuffs into his black go-bag, and grabbed his Kevlar vest and keys on the way out.
The late afternoon Friday traffic would be bad, so he decided against a direct route. Instead, he took State Route 36. It was a little longer drive than using the interstate, but it would take less time on a Friday at rush hour. Lukas drove with the window down, allowing the fresh air to circulate through the car and invigorate him. This time of year always brought back fond memories of playing football in high school. Those cool October and November nights seemed so far away, but he still enjoyed thinking back.
Lukas’s mind turned to the present, which was far more tumultuous than those Friday nights so long ago. He was excited about tonight. He actually had a few butterflies in his stomach. He walked into the conference room at police headquarters in Kingsport right at 6:00 p.m. All the task force members were there milling around getting to know one another. The women who would be the stars of the show were dressed in gaudy hooker outfits. A table at the rear of the room contained equipment that would be used during the sting.
Lukas looked at the clock on the wall and wondered where Brooke was. He slid his cell phone out of his pocket to call her when a sudden hush came over the room. It was as if everyone hit their mute button at the same time. Lukas looked up from the phone and saw stunned looks on all the faces, especially the men’s. He turned and realized Brooke was standing in the doorway talking on her cell phone. She was wearing a black leather mini-skirt with black, fishnet hose, four-inch stiletto heels, and a red, skimpy mohair sweater with a neckline that plunged nearly to the middle of her chest, revealing a hot pink bra and ample cleavage. Her hair was loosely curled and seductively pulled back and tied with a pink bow. She had applied her make-up and lipstick thick and heavy. Hooker heavy.
She put away the phone and looked disapprovingly at her admirers.
“Let’s get started,” Brooke said.
But her co-workers were not letting her get by that easily. The catcalls started. The other women didn’t participate in the jokes, and Lukas thought he noticed genuine jealousy on their faces. He understood why. When the room quieted down enough, Brooke and Lukas took center stage for the briefing. Lukas noticed that nobody was looking at him.
“First, I want to thank everyone for volunteering to help us,” Brooke said. “Hopefully, we won’t have to do this for very long, and you guys can get back to your regular duties.”
“Uh, excuse me ma’am, but how much do you charge?”
An officer who looked like a homeless man, obviously a vice cop, had yelled the question from the back of the room. Laughter ensued. Brooke’s eyes met Lukas’s, and he thought he saw a flash of embarrassment. She recovered and continued.
“Remember why we’re here,” she said. “We’ll be working a couple of hotels on Stone Drive that are known for prostitution. We’re looking for a red car – unknown make or model – that may be occupied by a black male. I know it isn’t much. Just be vigilant and report anything suspicious, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem. This is primarily a recon assignment, but if we develop any leads, we’ll follow them. Ladies make sure you stay in close contact with your handlers. They’re your lifeline out there. And handlers, stay close enough to be able to act quickly should the situation demand it. We’ll be working off tactical channel two. Ladies make sure you get your wires and have your handlers assist you with them. Grab your radios on your way out. Most importantly? Stay safe out there.”
After everyone filed out, Lukas took a wire from the table and began helping fit it to Brooke’s outfit. The job brought Lukas into close proximity to some parts of her body that made him feel a bit uneasy. Brooke didn’t seem to notice, though, and she certainly didn’t seem to mind. As he was finalizing the job and attempting to attach the microphone to the underside of her bra, Lukas heard a low whistle followed by, “Lucky dog.”
Lukas looked up at Brooke. “Ignore them,” she said, smiling. “You’d think they’d never seen a hooker before.”
He smiled back. “Not one that looks like you.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“I believe it was.”
“Thank you, Detective Miller.”
“You’re welcome.”
As soon as they were finished, everyone headed out, much more somber than they had been at the precinct. The seriousness of the task at hand seemed to settle heavily over the whole crew. It was go time.
Lukas drove to Stone Drive while Brooke navigated. She directed him to a corner of the parking lot of a hotel frequently worked by the prostitutes in her city. The place was a dump, and many of the security lights weren’t working. But there was enough light for a potential john to cruise through and notice her. Brooke got out of the car and walked away. Lukas made sure the wire was working and completed a communications check. Then he called her cell phone and adjusted the microphone to increase voice clarity.
“I need you to pick a code word or phrase,” Lukas said.
“Let’s make it ‘big boy,’” she said seductively.
“Got it. If anything goes wrong, or if you feel you’ve been compromised or are in danger in any way, say those two words. I’ll be there in a flash. And remember, once we’re off the cell phone, I can hear you, but you can’t hear me. We can text, though. So, keep your phone handy.”
“I got it. I’m not a rookie, you know.”
“You mean you’ve been a hooker before?”
“No, wise ass. I’ve done stings before.”
“Roger that. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. Remember, any pr
oblems at all, you say the words.”
“Got it.”
“All right. Go live. I’m listening.”
Lukas sat in the car, watched from across the lot, and listened to the wire. He could hear her clothing brushing against the microphone and the steady click, click of the heels as she walked. When she stood still, he could hear the night sounds. Sometimes she would talk to herself, momentarily forgetting she was wired. She would comment to Lukas to disregard this or that. If she found a potential customer, she would describe the car and the situation and Lukas would jot down notes. The whole session was being recorded, but notes often came in handy since it sometimes took days to get the recordings transcribed.
Lukas also kept an ear to the radio to see if the other teams were having any luck. The first hour was slow. After a short bathroom break, Brooke was back out on the lot. Lukas heard some chatter about a red Ford Mustang, but one of the other teams called it maroon. It could be the same car based on the loose description.
Well into the second hour, word must have gotten out that at least some of the girls were back in action, because the radio chatter picked up considerably. Brooke’s parking lot remained relatively quiet. Lukas wondered to himself if maybe Brooke looked a little too good. She damned sure didn’t look like a crack whore or a meth addict. She might be scaring off their killer, who had to be smart enough to realize that if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. His thoughts were interrupted by Brooke’s voice over the wire.
“I’ve got a red Ford Mustang. It’s been around once, and I think it’ll be back.”
Lukas refrained from texting her. A couple of minutes later, she spoke again: “He’s coming back around, slower this time. I’m going to ease out a little farther and see if I can get a look at him.”
Before Lukas could text, he heard Brooke on the wire.
“I spooked him. Damn it.”
Lukas could hear the frustration in her voice. Another two minutes passed. “Wait,” Brooke said. “He’s creeping back around. What’s up with this guy?”
Lukas texted, “B patient stay where u r. He is testing u.”
