“I think that’s a good starting point, but I’d also like to see how she’s doing.”
“I’m sure she’s been battling her own demons.”
Rene nodded. “Benzo has been nothing but trouble for everyone who crosses his path. Let’s stop him before he ruins anyone else’s life.”
“I won’t stop until I destroy him.” Turner’s voice was grim. “One way or another, Benzo is going down.”
Chapter Thirty One
Ivan lumbered over toward the inmate who was lifting weights in the yard. The yard was one of the few places where inmates were thrown together. Though they tended to segregate themselves according to race and religion, at any given time there would be two hundred to two hundred and fifty inmates thrown together in the area. The problem was that there were only two to five guards on duty and one sniper ready to shoot high above the ground in a tower. The yard was the perfect place for fights to break out, and they often did.
As Ivan strode across the yard, the inmates separated like the Red Sea, allowing the big man unfettered passage. His movements were slow and deliberate as he approached his quarry.
He stood behind the weight bench where Soho was working out. When the man lifted the barbell, complete with 250 pounds of weight, Ivan grabbed it with ease and laid it across the inmate’s neck.
“You’ve been talking a lot of shit about knowing a certain serial killer. I want a fucking name.” To Ivan, please and thank you were unknowns. Such frivolity was a sign of weakness.
“Oh shit,” said one of the onlookers who fought to restrain another inmate who appeared poised to intervene. “Stay back, man. That’s Ivan The Terrible. He’s Bratva. Under the protection of Alexander Glazov.”
The man shut up immediately when Ivan cut his eyes at him and grunted. Though Ivan was well known among the inmates, he didn’t like people sticking their nose in his business. He wasn’t the chatty type by any means.
Soho barely eked out, “I…can’t…breathe.”
“Better start talking, then.”
“Peter Demandez. I can’t breathe.” The man was sure his esophagus would be ruptured if Ivan didn’t hurry up and get the weight off of his throat.
The man who had just informed the inmates that Ivan was Bratva spoke up again, observing, “That’s one seriously big motherfucker.” Ivan’s size was intimidating and he didn’t hesitate to use it to his advantage when the Pakhan needed information. He missed being on the outside but being able to work like this on the inside of the penitentiary sated his need for violence. He was even beginning to make friends.
“Fuck, Ivan, all you had to do was ask,” Soho whined as he hurriedly sat up. Even though Ivan had easily removed the weight, he was worried that Ivan might not be through with his interrogation.
“But it wouldn’t have been as much fun,” Ivan laughed. The rest of the group laughed with him, but it sounded forced.
“You got a visitor,” an approaching guard announced.
Weightlifter boy whined again, “Why does he get special visiting privileges? It’s not even visiting hours.”
Ivan trudged away after the guard but he still overheard the men’s whispers. “He’s going to meet Glazov. Let’s go look through the glass.”
~~~
The inmates who wanted a view pressed up against the glass to get a glimpse of the Pakhan. He strode past the guards with an almost dismissive confidence and sat down across from Ivan.
“Ivan, my friend. It is good to see you. Do you have everything you need?”
“I live as well in here as I do on the outside because of you, boss.” Ivan was a grateful man and it didn’t go unnoticed. “Only thing I’m missing is my wife. If ya know what I mean.”
“I’ve let it be known that you will require weekly conjugal visits. It won’t be a problem.” Most prisoners were doing well to get a couple a year, but most people didn’t have Glazov for a boss.
That got a huge smile from Ivan. “You’re the best, boss.” He leaned in to ensure he wouldn’t be overheard. “I got that name you wanted. Peter Demandez. You know, these guys don’t go by their real names, but I figure it’s a start.”
“It gives me something to work with. I’ll take it from here. Good work, Ivan."
After a few more minutes of small talk, Glazov tapped the metal table twice and got up which was Ivan’s cue that the visit was over. Though Glazov was aware of curious eyes following him as he moved toward the exit, he was unaffected. He exited the facility the same way he entered it: like he owned it.
Chapter Thirty Two
Rene turned around and looked at Tee from where she was seated in the SUV. “Are you sure you’re okay to do this?”
“It isn’t something I want to do, but I need to get it over with. Benzo isn’t going to stop killing unless we handle it. And I can’t move on if I don’t face this. If I can help you at all, then I’m all in.”
Rene was surprised by the woman’s insight into the killer’s likely mental state. Most laypeople weren’t aware that killing was a drug to serial killers that easily escalated into a full-blown addiction. “You spent time with this guy and survived. You know more about him than anyone. If you remember anything else as we’re doing the walkthrough, tell us. No matter how small or insignificant it seems, it could be a clue.”
Tee just nodded. They were now parked in front of the property Turner had researched. Tee pushed away the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. It looked different in the daylight; so normal, so well maintained. One thing she had noticed about her kidnapper was that he was neat and tidy; almost to the extent of being OCD.
She tentatively exited the vehicle, wrapping her arms around her mid-section as if that could shield her from the barrage of bad memories threatening to overwhelm her. She was grateful for the two FBI agents being here with her—and for the guns they carried. Agent Turner unlocked the door with the practiced skill of a locksmith, or better yet, a criminal. Tee fell in step behind Rene and opened her mind up to any suppressed memories that might be lodged in her subconscious.
The small hallway that had led to her freedom on the darkened night of her escape was now well lit with natural sunlight flowing through the windows. She remembered the small hallway table she had bumped into on the night of her escape. A small potted plant sat on the table, and she wondered how it was that a serial killer could have a green thumb.
“Just look around and take in your surroundings. Any hidden memories will come back on their own so don’t try to force them.” Rene placed a warm hand on Tee’s arm in a show of compassion and support.
“The only part of the house I saw was this and the basement.”
“Okay, we’ll start there, but we are going to check out the rest of the house while we’re here to see if maybe he forgot something and we can find some clues.”
Agent Turner deliberately went down the stairs first, then Tee, and then Rene. It was the agents’ way of shielding her and trying to make her feel safe. A chill ran through Tee as she was taken back in time to the worst chapter of her life. The small stage with the pole where she had been handcuffed was right there in front of her; seemingly harmless, but she knew better.
The speakers and the disco ball were still there. Strips of colored lights that beat in time with the music when they were turned on lined the upper baseboards. The room was sparsely furnished. The stage was the focus of the immaculate room. Before Tee’s encounter with Benzo she had assumed serial killers were dirty and unkempt. Now she understood how OCD tendencies could play into a serial killer’s psyche.
Tee slowly walked around the perimeter of the room, forcing herself to take in memories she’d buried up until now. She felt raw, like she had picked at an emotional scab and been left bleeding. She would never look at bars the same way. From now on, special lighting effects like Benzo’s disco ball would only dredge up memories of this house of horrors. She hated Benzo for changing her life in such a basic way. What used to be a fun night out with
the girls would now be an ordeal. She had escaped Benzo physically, but the emotional and mental damage he’d done would be lifelong.
“I’ve always wondered why he left that door open. It’s the only reason I was able to get away.” Tee looked at Rene for her opinion.
“You were handcuffed while you were down here, and when you were released from the restraints you were already wounded. He had no reason to think it mattered.”
“Maybe on some level, he wanted me to escape so I could tell my story.” Tee’s face took on a serious look. “He talked about you, you know. He has some sick fantasy about the two of you being together.”
Rene shivered at the thought of Benzo still stalking her. She had been under the impression he had become diverted since he’d likely taken other victims. It wasn’t common for stalkers to take on new obsessions. For some, it wasn’t always the woman they believed they had to have. Much like people who were in love with love, some stalkers were obsessed with the hunt. Rene had hoped that was the situation with Benzo and that he would move on, although she wouldn’t wish that kind of misery on anyone.
Rene could feel David’s eyes boring through her. He was jealous by nature and when it came to Rene he was overprotective as well as obsessed. Benzo would be doing well if he didn’t end up with one of the agent’s bullets between his eyes. She noticed David’s fists clenching at his sides and figured it would be a good time to change the subject. “Does anything else occur to you, Tee?”
“Not down here, but I’d like to see the rest of the house. If that’s okay,” she added, unsure if they wanted her tagging along as they searched for clues.
Rene took a minute to look at Turner and get a read on him. He gave a slight nod of his head. It wasn’t part of their usual protocol, but he didn’t want to have to come back. They didn’t want to give Benzo time to come back and remove something he might have forgotten. He also didn’t want Tee to have to be alone in the house battling memories of her ordeal.
The three of them climbed the steps. Tee was glad to leave this part of the house behind and wanted to see the rest. No doubt it would be just as tidy as the basement and hallway had been.
The stairs led back up to the hallway. When they turned left they entered a large farm kitchen; that, of course, was orderly, organized so that each thing was in its place.
Why couldn’t a guy like this be normal, with a wife and kids? It could have been a great family home. They walked into the living room. A fabric couch sat against a wall. A large screen television hung on the opposite wall. Rene shook her head. Men and their toys…
Rene opened the small drawer on the end table with gloved hands. Nothing there but a notebook, pen, and, of course, the remote control to the big screen television.
Turner peeked into the medicine cabinet in the bathroom on their way to the bedroom. He picked up a bottle of Xanax. “I wonder if he’s taking this himself or just using it on his victims.”
“He’s dosing his victims with hit, heavily. Or, at least, that’s what he did to me. I don’t know about the others. He should be suffering from anxiety with all the bad karma he’s spreading around,” Tee said with a shudder.
When they crossed the hall into the bedroom, they hit pay dirt. Rene walked over to the full wall dedicated to photos of her. It was lined with photos Benzo had taken of Rene in various situations. Photos of her at restaurants, at crime scenes, and even one taken with a zoom lens…while she slept.
“Oh my God. I feel violated,” Rene said before she could stop herself. She was sick of this bastard blindsiding them. Benzo must have been stalking her longer than they thought. Now she knew that all those times recently when she’d felt like she was being followed or watched, she hadn’t just been paranoid.
Neither agent wanted to think about how much their lives would have to change until Benzo was finally caught. It would mean their lives were on lockdown. All Rene could think about was the floor-to-ceiling windows in the penthouse not having curtains. She no longer felt safe in her own home. Her beautiful view that had been one of her favorite things about the penthouse was now a threat. And she hated Benzo for it.
Rene went over to a filing cabinet and began looking for birth certificates, insurance documents, and the title on the house. Anything that would give them Benzo’s real name. Up until now all they had was the name of a dead man he’d been using as an alias.
The bottom of the filing cabinet held a lockbox. “We’re taking this and his computer. That bastard crossed a line and now all bets are off,” Rene hissed.
Benzo had managed to do something he would surely regret: he’d pissed off two federal agents who were now on a mission to take back control of their lives.
Benzo had them backed into a corner, but they were coming out swinging. They always went by the rules, but now they were being forced to break them. The first rule they blew by had to do with chain of custody for evidence. Benzo’s lockbox and computer were on a one-way trip straight to the penthouse, instead of to the FBI office. This was no longer just an FBI case; this was personal.
Chapter Thirty Three
Benzo struggled to choke back his anger as he watched from his vantage point in the woods. The FBI agents were carrying things out of his house. He felt violated; defiled. How dare they take his computer and lockbox?!
How dare they steal from him?! He could barely keep still in his hiding place amongst the trees. He was practically vibrating with anger. They were supposed to be law-abiding officers of the law, the paragons of society. But they were common thieves. Benzo might be a stalker, but he had no patience with thieves. They were the lowest of the low.
He was shocked they had brought Tee with them. Surely that wasn’t normal procedure. Maybe they brought her to see if she remembered anything. Judging by the forlorn look on her face, the woman didn’t want to do anything but get the hell out of there. He smiled at the thought that coming back had upset her. She may have gotten away, but he’d be with Tee for the rest of her life. She would never forgive herself for getting in his car that night. She would never forget the night she was abducted by a madman. It was her fault; she should have been more careful. You couldn’t trust anyone these days.
If he got bored maybe he’d start stalking Tee again. It would be fun, even if he never had time alone with her again. He could move shit around in her house just to fuck with her head. He knew she was still traumatized since the abduction because she hadn’t been back to work. She’d have to go back sooner or later. Living in that nice apartment of hers couldn’t be cheap.
He grinned. He knew just what to do next. By the time they busted open that lockbox, they’d be even more confused than they were right now. He considered himself something of a profiler, too, and couldn’t wait to find out if he was right.
Benzo had been careful not to leave a paper trail that could do him any harm, just a clusterfuck of confusion that would leave the agents chasing their tails. He was a planner by nature. He had spent a lifetime preparing for this moment when the authorities got perilously close to catching him. He’d been looking forward to playing with them; teaching them all a lesson. Few serial killers could toy with the FBI and get away with it, but he would.
He looked forward to fucking with their heads. The time they would spend chasing the false leads he’d left for them in that box would give him more time to stalk the sexy redhead.
He could tell her partner was already jealous of him. The way Turner stormed out of the house with a scowl on his face and his fists clenched could only mean he’d seen Benzo’s shrine to Agent Murphy…and didn’t like it one bit. A man who was used to being in control was at his wit’s end, all because of Mr. Benzo. Yes…control was a wonderful thing.
Chapter Thirty Four
Tee sat on her bed twisting and untwisting a corner of her duvet. She felt like her mind was running on a loop and she was still getting nowhere. It wasn’t like her life was drama free anyway. Working at a strip club brought its own set of problems, but
she’d managed to steer clear of the unnecessary theatrics. Of course there was the usual catty, witchy shit that went on with a dressing room full of competitive women, but she’d learned to deal with that.
But this was a beast of a different kind. These were problems beyond her control because they’d been brought on by an outsider. She’d always been so careful about not letting outsiders in. Men at the club were just looking for a paycheck or a booty call. She’d seen it all before: a dancer flirting a little too much with a customer, then making sure he gets all of her private dances. Next thing you knew, she told him her real name, then she let him into her life. He gained her trust, showered her with attention…and took control of her money, her body, and ultimately her life. You couldn’t get rid of someone like that once he’d found a free ride—not without risking serious injury.
How did accepting a ride from a stranger lead to all this chaos, though? Even her relationship with Harper had changed. Tee had secrets now and, oh, how they weighed on her. Factor in boredom from not working and it was a recipe for disaster.
She reached over into the nightstand drawer and grabbed a joint. Maybe she could come up with an idea if she opened her mind. She lit the joint and listened to the crackling of the end as it fired up. She took a nice, long drag, holding it in her lungs until she went into a coughing fit.
She looked up as Harper bounced into the room without a care in the world. Must be nice.
Tee passed her the joint and Harper sat down next to her to partake. After her own coughing fit, Harper weighed in with her thoughts on life in general. “I don’t know how you can stand staying in this apartment all the time, Tee. I’d be so bored.”
“Funny you said that. I’ve decided to go back to work tonight. I’m sick of this bastard controlling my life.”
The Profilers (Born Bratva The Lost Years Book 2) Page 10
