Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers

by Diane Capri

  I tapped the man on the shoulder. His mouth fell open in surprise and then pleasure. “Well, hello.”

  “Hi,” I said with a sultry gaze. He was just the type I knew how to get past. “Mind if I borrow your partner for a while? You can watch.”

  His eyes lit up and he stepped away. Hannah stumbled at his sudden absence. I grabbed her waist and steadied her, and didn’t let go. She didn’t bat an eyelash; rather, she kept the rhythm as if she hadn’t traded partners.

  We danced, and stared deep in each other’s eyes. What secrets was she hiding? What lies had she told me?

  Finally, I spoke. “You’re not Daddy’s little girl at all. And you were never betrayed.”

  Her face still stayed hidden behind a mask, but I saw a flicker of anger in her eyes.

  “I’d swear on my father’s grave that you aren’t Hank Williams’ daughter,” I said, and then whispered in her ear. “Everything you have is a lie.”

  The song pulsed louder and I turned my back to her, rocking to the beat. When I turned around, she had stopped dancing.

  “You’re quite brash,” she said above the music. She frowned and lowered her chin. Speaking in a low voice so I had to lean in to hear, she said, “You shouldn’t have found that out, Sarah. And you certainly shouldn’t have told me.”

  Was that a threat? Anger flooded through me and I gritted my teeth. “All houses built on lies will crumble,” I said. “You’d better be clear of it when it does.”

  She shook her head slowly, as if I’d just said the most preposterous thing in the world. “Nothing is going to crumble, Sarah.” She kept saying my name and I didn’t like it. She grabbed my arm and pulled me to her, hard. “You’ll be broken.” And she kissed me on the cheek.

  An involuntary shudder rippled through me. I was speechless.

  She sauntered away, grabbing her male friend’s hand, and went for the door. I stood in the middle of the happy, dancing crowd. I think I’d just been handed my ass on a plate.

  By the time I regained my composure, she was already out the door and had her phone to her ear. I took off after her.

  The cool night air felt good on my hot skin. I took a deep breath and looked around. There wasn’t a car in sight. Suddenly, a blue Ferrari peeled out of the club’s driveway. I squinted, looking for a license plate number. Dang! It was too dark to see. But then they passed under a streetlight, and I saw UVF 615.

  Walking back, I whispered the license to myself over and over so I wouldn’t forget. Once inside, I asked the nearest waiter for a pen, and then wrote on my hand.

  I had a feeling that wasn’t going to be my last talk with Hannah Williams. Our dance had only just begun.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  MANDY, RICK, AND SOLOMON still stood around the table, looking awkward. I approached as if nothing had happened.

  “I think the club is going to close soon,” I said. “We should get out of here.”

  Rick nodded and put a hand on the small of Mandy’s back.

  But Mandy wasn’t going to let me get away with it. “Where’d you go?” she asked. “Who was that?”

  I shrugged. “Just some hot chick I wanted to dance with. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at clubs?”

  She glared at me, but Rick put his mouth to her hair and whispered, “Later, babe. Let’s talk later.”

  Mandy eyed Solomon and then nodded. He looked like he hadn’t heard, but I knew he hadn’t missed a thing.

  “It was a pleasure, Solomon,” I said. And I really meant it.

  “The pleasure was all mine. I hope you call again for another lesson.” He walked us to the door. I turned to say one last goodbye and he was standing right behind me. I could feel his breath on my skin. I felt a little woozy all of a sudden.

  Solomon pulled me into his arms and hugged me. He whispered in my ear, “It was good to meet you, Sarah Steele.”

  His body so close to mine made me shiver. Mandy was talking, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. All I could see was his face so close, and his lips … What was going on? How was this happening to me? This was crazy!

  He stepped back, waved, and went back into the club. I stood there so weak, I tried to move but was stuck.

  “You okay?” Mandy rubbed the back of my arm and I snapped out of my trance.

  “I, uh ... yeah. Just tired.”

  I’d parked beside them about three blocks away from the club. The night had been fun, and full. I had a lot to process. My phone buzzed and for a second I thought it might be Solomon, but that was silly. It turned out to be Joshua. Breathless, I answered the call. “Joshua!”

  “Hi.” I could hear him smile through the phone. “I’ve got good news. Figured you wouldn’t mind the late-night call.”

  “I love good news,” I said, zoning everything out so completely that I tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. “Give it to me.”

  “They processed the DNA from the barn, and ...” He slowed.

  “And what?” I nearly shouted in the phone.

  “They found saliva on the candy wrapper and the DNA does not match Hank Williams. But it has to be someone in his family.”

  I yelped with excitement. “So the sick psycho was watching after all—it had to be Glen. Was the pee on the wall Hank’s?”

  “No, that’s the strange part.” I held my breath. He was clearly enjoying this hold over me. “The urine was from the same person, not a match for Hank. And from the location, it’s as if he’d peed over her blanket, or on her, or something.”

  “So we have DNA from someone in the Williams family at the crime scene?” I asked, somewhat awed by the turn of events.

  “Yes. And you should see some of the stuff I have on Glen. He has several aliases and legally severed his relationship with Hank Williams when he graduated from college, although they’ve worked together closely since then. I found some files from the police in Hong Kong that fit his description.”

  “What kind of files?”

  Joshua hesitated. “He was involved in a sex trafficking ring there and then disappeared. The Hong Kong police have been looking for him ever since, but haven’t gotten a match until today.”

  I pumped my fist. “You did it, Joshua.”

  “We did it,” he corrected. His voice softened. “Come back soon. No one works me as hard as you do. Besides, it’s a mess around here with the internal investigation going on.”

  “What investigation?”

  “The judge ordered one—he’s bent on finding out who paid off the jury. And the defense is claiming it was us, even though that’s ridiculous.”

  I groaned. “Why would we do that? How is Dan taking it?”

  “Like you’d expect. He’s pissed and has me working like a dog. I could use your help—he couldn’t find a replacement for you and is seeing to the case personally.”

  “I’m sorry, Joshua. That sucks.”

  “Tell me about it. Anyway, thought you’d like to know what we found.”

  “Thanks for the update,” I said, and then we ended the call.

  “Good news, I take it?” Mandy asked.

  “Absolutely, even though we don’t have anything on Hank Williams yet. At least we know it was a Williams family member. Now I just have to find out who.”

  As we approached my car, I saw something white fluttering under my wiper. It wasn’t a ticket—it looked like an envelope.

  “What’s that?” Rick asked. “Are cops getting classy and putting tickets in envelopes these days?”

  “Let’s hope not,” I replied. “I don’t want my tax dollars going to that.”

  The wind tore at the envelope again and I snatched it up before it could be blown away. It didn’t have a return address. It felt heavy, as if there were pictures inside or a really long letter. I got a bad feeling and exchanged a glance with Mandy. She must have felt it too because her exhilarated expression was gone and she was frowning. I slid my finger under the edge of the envelope and tore it open.

  Photo
s fell out and fluttered to the ground. I bent over to pick them up and the hair on my arms stood on end. The pictures were of a girl; she was tied up and had duct tape across her mouth. A gasp escaped my lips and it took everything in me to keep focused.

  The faint smell of cherry wafted from the envelope. Cigar smoke? Something that passed from the sender of the letter?

  I gathered up the pictures and could feel my eyes grow hot. I wanted to cry and scream all at the same time. I knew the girl in the pictures.

  It was Angela.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  WILLIAMS SUCKED ON A cigar and the end glowed amber. It was a clear night, but a slight breeze made the smoke waft away. The girl was pretty, in a punk sort of way. She put up a fight, but she was so small that her kicks did nothing to stop him. He was, after all, a driven man.

  Walking back inside, he turned the corner and his breath stopped. She stood defiantly staring at him, holding a piece of wood. Why she didn’t try to run was a mystery—maybe she liked it rough.

  “I see I need to work on my bondage skills.” Williams pulled on his cigar and let a small grin cross his lips. “Now just put the wood down. You’ll hurt yourself.”

  “I’m gonna hurt something, you sick perv.” Angela stood, knees bent, ready to strike. She looked like a batter about to hit a home run.

  Williams laughed and took a step forward, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “You got me. Please don’t hurt me.” This was fun—maybe his subconscious wanted her to get free so he could mess with her. Was that why he hadn’t tied her up more securely?

  “I’ve lived with pigs like you all my life. You’re just one more man who needs to be taught that you do not have the right to abuse women.” Her eyes flashed, and Williams took a small step forward as if sneaking up on a scared rabbit. She took one step back, and that was all he needed to let him know that her front was just a cover for her fear.

  He lowered his hands and pulled on his cigar one more time. “My father used to say that if you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.”

  Williams lunged forward and Angela swung, hitting him across the ribs. He didn’t stop and bull tackled her to the ground, not feeling the pain. She grunted under his weight, and in a matter of seconds he had her hands behind her back and hauled her to her feet.

  Angela screamed for help, but he wasn’t worried. This was a basement, and her cries would do no good here.

  “Yes, that’s it—scream. I like the wild ones.” Grabbing her throat, he squeezed and pushed her against a wooden support post. He slipped the knife from his hip sheath and pressed it to her neck. She froze.

  “That’s right—be a good little girl and hold still.” This time he used duct tape and put one strip over her mouth. She was crying and this made him want to kill her. Crying was for the weak, and the weak did not deserve to breathe.

  “You see, my dear, you are cursed to be submissive to man; you are weaker in every way and need to be ruled. Your only worth is to bear children to keep the human race going and for man’s personal pleasure. But you fight against it, demand freedom, only to miss your true calling.”

  Taking the knife, he felt for her fifth rib. “You are a slave, and you will always be a slave no matter how much power you think you have. Women in power are only there because we let them be there. But it all comes around in the end.” He let the knife slide in slow. Angela screamed into the duct tape. Once the knife was all the way in, he yanked it out again. Blood spurted from the wound and stained her shirt.

  “There. You will bleed out for a few hours, and you will suffer as you were meant to suffer.” Williams wiped the blade on her pants and took another draw from his cigar. He hadn’t even dropped it in the struggle, more proof that he was the master and she the servant.

  Her skin was pale now, the trauma too much for her to handle. She was a beautiful thing, a prize to be proud of, and the makings of a great gift for his prey.

  Sarah Steele.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  I laid out the pictures on the table at my bed-and-breakfast and unfolded the note. Mandy stood at my shoulder and Rick was lying on the bed, stunned by what he’d seen in the pictures. I was in full-on business mode, analyzing the pictures and notes.

  Miss Steele,

  You wanted to play with me, and now here we are. This is Angela—say hi. She’s in love with me and I with her. Will you stop our love? You have until 5 a.m. If you fail, she and I will play … You like to play, don’t you?

  HW

  P.S. Oh, and if you go to the police or your pal Dan, game over. This is our game—no cheating!

  I read the note three times and looked at the four pictures. I wanted to get the police involved and call in every connection I had, but I knew that if this was real, if Hank Williams had kidnapped her, my decision could cost her life. He had unlimited resources, and for all I knew he was watching me now.

  “Four hours,” I whispered. Picking up my phone, I set the alarm on it. Beep. It began counting down. Every second that went by meant that Angela’s chances were getting slimmer.

  How had the pictures gotten on my car? Had someone been following me this whole time? I thought about Hannah, how she said she would break me. It had to be her. She probably called Glen or Hank when she left and told them where I was.

  “You need to go to the police,” Mandy said. There were tears in her eyes. “They’re equipped to handle things like—”

  “Shh,” I said harshly. Spreading the photos out and putting my lamplight directly on them, I snapped a picture of each one with my phone. Then I took a picture of the note.

  “How can you do this, Sarah? You’re an attorney, not a detective.” Her voice shook in anger.

  “I can do this,” I whispered, more to myself than to her. Opening up the envelope, I breathed in the scent again. Cherry. No doubt about it.

  Rick sat up. “There’s no room for error, no chance at forgiveness. You make a mistake and Angela’s dead. Now take the photos to the police.” His voice was stern.

  Some of my old confidence returned. At the sight of Angela tied up and hurting, I’d shut off everything about me and made it all about her. This was bigger than me now. It was time to meet Hank Williams face-to-face. And I wouldn’t mind getting Glen Williams behind bars in the process.

  “I’m not taking the pictures to the police,” I said evenly. “I have to study them. I have to find out where she is.” I looked up at them. Their expressions were frantic. “I have to play the game.”

  Mandy turned her back to me and slammed her hand against the wall. “You’re going to get that girl killed.”

  I stood up so quickly that the chair fell over backwards. Mandy’s eyes widened and Rick tensed up. “I can’t think when it’s so quiet.” Going over to my computer, I turned on an old screamo album to its loudest volume. Mandy gave me a strange look. She knew me better than that. She knew I couldn’t think unless it was quiet.

  I picked the chair back up and sat down, bending over the pictures again. This time, I motioned for Rick and Mandy to come close. Rick stood and slowly came toward me, as if he was afraid I would do something. Mandy leaned in right away. Her red hair blended with my blonde on the table.

  When Rick bent over the two of us, I mouthed to them with a mixture of hand motions. “Take—” I pointed to the pictures, “to police. Place could be bugged.” In a motion, I slit my throat. “Don’t come near me again.” And then I looked up at them, my soul in my eyes. “Stay safe.”

  Rick nodded solemnly. Mandy winked at me and then said loudly. “Fine. If you want to sentence her to death, I’m not going to be a part of this. See you at the funeral.”

  I handed her the envelope with everything inside and blew her a kiss. She hid the pictures inside her purse.

  When they walked out the door, I’d never felt so bereft.

  And so intent on finding Angela. The clues were at my fingertips—I could feel it. My whole body tingled with tension. Now it wa
s my turn to hunt down Hank Williams.

  And I had less than four hours to do it.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  I WENT TO THE spot where I did my best thinking—near the office, on the bench beside the lake. In the center of the lake, the fountain ceaselessly spouted water. It made ripples in the pool and sounded like rain. It was the only music I needed for this. The place was deserted, and at this hour I would be shocked if it wasn’t.

  I hadn’t had a chance to study the pictures. They were still a mystery. I pulled my legs up and sat cross-legged on the bench in a lotus position. Time to meditate. I opened my phone and focused all my energy on the images in it. The pictures must’ve been taken on a nice camera—the quality was good. I took them apart centimeter by centimeter, studying every little square.

  I shut off my imagination and feelings and became like a computer, only recognizing objective details.

  Her clothes. I noticed she wasn’t wearing her own shirt. It was a button-up blouse with a floral pattern, which Angela wouldn’t have picked out in a million years. She wasn’t wearing any pants. There was a big, dark stain on the carpet beneath her hips, and what looked like blood running down her leg. She wasn’t wearing any shoes, but I saw them in the corner of the photo.

  Her marks. She had bruises on her shins, as if she’d tripped over an obstacle in her path. Too low to be a fence. Too high to be a step. Maybe it was a car door, like she was forced to enter one. There was a bruise on her cheek as if she’d been backhanded. And one of her toenails was torn off.

  Bindings. Her hands were tied behind her. I couldn’t see what with but I assumed it was duct tape, as that’s what covered her mouth and bound her feet.

  Location. The building was being renovated. It seemed to be a house because I saw a closet with a Cat Lover’s Calendar hanging on its door, and the wallpaper trim had cartoon kittens hugging and cuddling with mice. There was a toolbox in the closet with a power drill beside it. The air seemed hazy, as if filled with sawdust or drywall dust. All the wooden trimming was torn off and thrown in a corner. Loose and twisted nails littered the ground. Angela stood with a wooden post at her back. Her hands looked to be behind it.