by Tl Reeve
“But it’s Saturday.”
Yeah, his sentiments exactly. “We have a new case.”
“To add to the three hundred and forty million others we have?” Kyle said.
Stuart rolled his eyes, regretting it the minute his head began to pound. Yep, definitely the last time I let Kyle talk me into doing Jager shots.
“Okay, I admit,”—Kyle sighed dramatically—“that’s a little bit of an exaggeration.”
“A little?”
“Yep. I’ll be out in ten.”
Since Hurricane Katrina, the police department in New Orleans had lost hundreds of quality officers. They had been understaffed and severely scrutinized. Corruption ran rampant, leading to several IA investigations. Hell, his own department had gone through three in the last six months. Their new chief had taken the job a year ago. Their previous chief had survived six months before being brought down by money laundering charges.
Stuart grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt and headed for his bathroom. Twenty minutes later, he felt a little more human and a little less like a frat boy. Kyle was standing in the kitchen when he finally emerged from his bedroom. There was a cup of coffee on the table along with two aspirin. “You are a godsend. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different.”
Kyle snorted. “Should I polish my halo, too?”
“I’m sure you had your halo polished several times last night,” he joked. Kyle frowned and went back to staring out the window overlooking the river. “What? Did I offend?” Stuart said.
“I can’t fucking remember last night.”
“Not even a little bit?”
“Nope, it’s like a blank fucking wall.” Kyle put his cup in the sink and shook his head. “Damnedest thing. I never have that issue.”
“Same here,” Stuart said, popping the pills into his mouth. With a swig of his coffee, he swallowed them. “We’ll figure it out later. Right now, we need to meet with the chief.”
By the time they arrived at the station, they were still nowhere near figuring out what had happened the night before or how they got home. Around them, the station hummed with activity. People milled about, handing off files while others were grabbing for them.
To the right of where Stuart stood was a window that looked out toward the city. In front of him was his superior’s office. The big oak door had his name, Chief Granger, etched into the beveled glass.
“Hey, I think I’ve got something,” Kyle said, interrupting his thoughts. “We were at the bar and that dude...” Kyle shook his head. “The guy with the spider.”
“I am never drinking again.” He laughed.
“Then call me fucking crazy. Don’t you remember?”
“Nope. I think I would remember a fucking spider.”
“Lucky bastard,” Kyle muttered.
“Yep.”
Mrs. Johnson’s statement still sat on Stuart’s desk along with the next witness statement. While they waited for the chief to call them back, he opened the file and started reading it to Kyle. “This witness statement says the assailant dropped a 9mm in a garbage can near the riverfront. Can we confirm that?”
“Yes,” his partner answered, scrubbing his jaw. He picked up another folder and opened it before throwing it on Stuart’s desk. “Two hours later, forensics found the gun wrapped in newspaper.” There, in crystal-clear quality, was a 9mm handgun in a grocery store flyer.
“Did they get any prints off it?”
“Yes. One set. The suspect’s.”
Bingo. “Great. What else does the file say?”
“Suspect one didn’t have any gunshot residue on his hands at the time of pick up. There was also no GSR found on his clothing or the newspaper the gun was wrapped in.”
Damn it. “Okay. Without a positive GSR, we can’t say he used the gun in the crime.” Stuart glanced at another statement and paused. “Did you read the Ruiz statement?”
“Just getting to it,” Kyle said, writing down something on his steno pad. “Don’t you find it a little too convenient how everything fits together except for there being no GSR residue?”
“Do you think our perp was set up?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Okay, Kyle, explain what you’re seeing to me.” He sat back and watched his friend twist back and forth in his chair. It was a bad habit of his. He claimed it helped him concentrate.
“The perp is Bernardo Sanchez. He has a rap sheet a mile long, but from what I’m seeing here, he got a job cleaning bathrooms in a hotel. He hasn’t been in trouble for three years. For all intents and purposes, he’s been on the straight and narrow. I could see him wanting to get rid of the gun; he’s a convicted felon. If he was caught with it, he could go away for a long time.”
“So someone knows about Bernardo, and they…what? Blackmail him?” It was a stretch of the imagination thinking someone would really go to those lengths to get rid of Mr. Sanchez.
“What if they knew he was living in their neighborhood, and they just wanted him gone? No blackmail, just a simple bait and switch. While one person is breaking into the shop, another is running down the road in black. They would have needed a third who dumped the gun.”
Stuart had opened his mouth to answer Kyle’s questions when the door in front of them opened and Chief Granger, a tall, portly man, stepped out of the office, barking their names. Both scrambled and made their way down the short path to the waiting office. Once inside, Stuart closed the door behind him and sat down. The office wasn’t overly cluttered. Functional messy was what he would call it. On the desk sat three files and a few picture frames. To the right sat an open laptop, the AFIS sign-in screen waiting patiently for its next command.
“We’ve got another kidnapping case,” Chief Granger handed them each a file folder. “Same as the one two weeks ago.” Neither man said anything. Stuart had heard rumblings about the kidnappings, but it seemed likely the victims were women needing to get away from their overly protective and controlling boyfriends. He didn’t blame them. “Our third victim was coming out of work. Her co-worker called it in. A late model black-on-black van pulled up to the front of The Three Princesses and snatched her.
Stuart paused, glancing at his partner who wore the exact same expression as he did. The Three Princesses… “I be tellin’ ye ‘bout The Three Black Princesses.” What the fuck had happened to them last night? “Any description of the driver or the person who grabbed our victim?” he asked. He shouldn’t stop doing his job just because he couldn’t remember the night before.
“No, nothing,” Chief Granger answered. “Each time a girl has been taken, the same account is given. The suspects wait until two a.m. when the bar closes and then take one girl. There is no specific pattern to when they come and take the girls. They show up, grab them, and go.”
“When was the last girl taken, sir?” Kyle asked as he continued to take notes on his little pad of paper.
“Two weeks ago,” he said. “The victim’s name is Suzie James. Her body washed ashore just outside the city limits of Reserve.”
“And we’re just now getting the case?” Stuart couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There should have been homicide detectives crawling all over this case. What the hell was going on?
“The mayor didn’t want to alarm women. Since the hurricane, peace has been hard to come by in some sections of town. He didn’t want to ‘ruffle’ feathers, so he requested we keep this case under wraps.” There were not enough words in the English language, at that particular moment, to describe the level of stupidity running rampant in the mayor’s office, Stuart thought.
“What changed?”
“It was the mayor’s daughter who was kidnapped last night.” Granger handed over a folder with the victim’s picture and personal information in it. Her name was Sabine Babineaux, and she was only twenty-eight. She had worked for The Three Princesses for six months. Before that, she was in college getting her doctorate in molecular biology from Tulane University. She was pretty. With her straw
berry-blonde hair hanging in loose ringlet curls, her almond-shaped blue eyes, and a killer smile, there was no doubt in Stuart’s mind why she was chosen, yet it begged the question, why her? And why was she working for a bar when she was obviously educated and could have any job she wanted?
“So, let me get this straight,” Stuart began. “Several girls have been kidnapped, but only because the mayor’s daughter is now a victim of these abductions, are we being called in? Doesn’t that seem a little…off, sir?”
“Son, I know you mean well by doing your job and asking these questions, but this is New Orleans, not some high-society, give-a-damn town. We’re doing our best to squeak by.”
“Does her boss have any cameras? Bouncers?” Jesus Christ, didn’t the responding officers ask any of these questions? “You would think, sir, an establishment such as this one would have high-quality security equipment.”
Granger grunted. “When the report was taken, the young beat officer who responded forgot to ask. Another officer will be going out to ask those questions.”
Yeah, bullshit. Stuart wanted to call the man on every ounce of the trash he was spewing. He picked up the file and stood. “We’ll let you know when we have something, sir. Until then, put out some kind of statement telling the women how to stay safe. I have a feeling whoever is doing this isn’t going to stop. However, they’ll get cocky and, when they do, Kyle and I will catch them.”
“Make sure you keep this hush-hush for now. I’ll talk with the mayor’s office to get an official statement. Give your current cases to Gomez and Maco.” Their commanding officer stood up and walked around his metal desk, stopping in front of them. “She is your priority, boys. Bring her home.”
As opposed to the other vics already in the suspect’s hands? Stuart glanced over at his partner and could see the bewilderment in his friend’s eyes. What in the serious fuck is going on here? Did they actually fall into some alternate universe? The obvious answer was yes. The complicated answer, “Well, who the fuck knows?” didn’t seem to fit their current predicament. “You can count on us, Chief,” said Kyle.
“You can count on us, Chief?” Stuart glanced at Kyle and shook his head as they walked out of the overcrowded station and over to a car that was supposedly theirs. “Don’t you find any of this a tad bit strange?”
“Yeah, I do, but what else am I supposed to do?” He shrugged. “Let’s go.”
Stuart climbed into the black, unmarked sedan and put on his seatbelt while his partner did the same then started the car. “After this, I’m taking a long-ass vacation.”
“I hear ya.”
Chapter Three
What day was it? Sabine had lost track of time since, oh, when she woke up the first day in the cage. Artificial light had been used to create daytime and nighttime, but whether or not it was accurate was another thing. After the first day, she’d realized she was in a warehouse somewhere. The brown brick walls and industrial rebar beams gave way to a penthouse apartment two floors above where the girls were being held captive. All of the small windows were painted black to keep the light and prying eyes out. In the time she’d been with the “Master,” she’d learned a few things. One, don’t back talk him. Her jaw still hurt from where he had hit her. And, two, don’t give up.
On the plus side, she was resourceful—quickly making friends with one of the guards. She knew the guard shifts now and when the lights would come on or be turned out. At “night,” the guards went upstairs and no one came down until the Master was called. She’d also grabbed the master key to all of the doors in the building off of the guard when he wasn’t paying attention. Stupid bastard liked staring at her boobs, so she had used it to her advantage. The crates were replaced by floor mats, and that is where she’d promptly hidden the key once she’d retrieved it. Now she quietly lifted the corner of her mat and palmed the key. For several days, she had toyed with the idea of freeing all of the women. None of them should have to stay another moment in that fucking place.
Sabine bit the inside of her cheek and contemplated the pros and cons of opening her mouth and telling them what she was going to do. If she left them there, who knew what would happen to them. Nine chances out of ten, they would die, and it would more than likely be her fault. She couldn’t have that on her conscious, not when she was equipped to fix this. Sabine stood and slowly made her way around to each of the girls, waking them up.
“I’m getting out of here. If you want to leave, follow me,” she whispered.
The women murmured quietly among themselves. “We’re going,” Carly answered.
She knew they would. They would have to move quickly. From their room, they would have to walk downstairs and across the first floor to the back door. From there, they had to hope like hell the place didn’t have an alarm on it. “Stick together, and don’t make a sound. We’re going to the back door. Once I open it, I want you to run. Got it?”
“Got it,” they answered.
Sabine closed her eyes and silently prayed her hastily put together plan would work, or else she was afraid of what would happen. You’ll all die, Sabine. Every last one of you. She pushed the thought away and spoke again. “Grab onto each other, and we’ll move as one.”
One after the other, they linked up until they formed a small human chain. With the door to their room open, Sabine stopped, listening for anything that could possibly get them caught. The ground floor was completely silent. She tiptoed out of the room, feeling each of the girls following behind her. Their steps were silent on the concrete, moving quickly. They were halfway across the room, almost home free. A moment of elation filled her. She would get out of there. She could feel it. Freedom was at her fingertips.
They took another step, and she stopped them. Dread coiled in her belly as the sound of the elevator caught her attention.
No, no. This can’t happen. Sabine ran the rest of the way across the room, stopping twice to pick up one of the women. By the time the elevator dinged, she was at the door. Her breath came in rapid pants; her heart was lodged in her throat. It was now or never. She couldn’t be caught. There was no way in hell she was going back into the room the men who had kidnapped her called home. Hell no. Her hand trembled. Damnit! She tried to steady herself, but the sound of male voices had her hurrying. Behind her, the women whimpered quietly, and she wished to God she would have gone by herself. Keep it together. You can do this.
Sabine took a deep breath, aligned the key with the lock, and it slipped home. She turned the lock and grinned. They were home free; all she had to do was twist the knob and get out of there. The handle gave under her hand, and she pushed it open. Bright light blinded her. She put her hand over her face and could hear the Master’s goons coming toward them.
“Hey, get back here!” One of them called out.
“Hurry!” she cried, pushing them out the door. Sabine didn’t look back as she ran out the door. There was no way she was going to let them catch her. She didn’t even pay attention to where the other women went. She booked it, trying to get away.
“Stop.” Another man yelled, and she heard the repeat of a gun bounce off the surrounding walls as she hurried down the alley.
Searing pain filled her body, and she tripped, falling to her knees. Small asphalt rocks dug into the flesh of her knees, and her palms were scraped up. Her side burned like hell. Sabine glanced down and saw the blood right above her hip. Her head spun at the sight of how much blood she was losing, but she couldn’t give up. She had to keep going. She needed to get away.
Pressing her palm to the wound, she got up and started running again. Sabine could hear the footsteps getting closer to her before another shot rang out. Bystanders turned in her direction, craning their necks to see what the commotion was. An excited thrill rolled through her. Surely someone would come to her rescue. But if she thought the pedestrians walking around her were actually going to step into the fray, she had another thing coming. Sabine came to the lip of the alley as people passed in front of
her, not even bothered by her predicament. Others threw her dirty looks, giving her a wide berth.
In front of her, not more than two hundred feet away, sat a cab by the curb. Behind her, the man’s footsteps grew loud, causing her to cringe at the sound. If she was going to get away, she needed to go now, but the pain was excruciating, and she felt woozy as hell. Each step would take all of her concentration and strength. One more step. You can do this. You can’t go back. Her mental pep talk pushed her on until she was only ten feet from the car. Her hand reached out for the handle, and she pulled it open. Sweet relief filled her.
Freedom.
“Police. Please.” She wheezed, leaning awkwardly against the seat. “Please go.” Frantic, she looked up at the man in the driver’s seat. “Please hurry before they take me.”
“She’s going to get away.” She could hear the goon getting closer to the car, and she broke down crying. The man wasn’t going to move. She was going to be taken back to her hellhole.
“Please, sir. Help me.” She twisted in the seat and saw how close the men were. “They’ve kidnapped me.” Whatever trance the man had been under broke, and his gaze shifted to hers, widening as he noticed she only wore a bra and panties.. “Thank God.” She sighed. “Police please.”
The man blinked several times then stammered. “Y-you need a hospital, not the police.”
“No! They’ll find me in a hospital. Police! Just take me to any station. I don’t care where.” Sabine lay down on the seat and closed her eyes. The sweet air of the city caressed her, wrapping her in a blanket of comfort. She knew she should be scared by the amount of blood she was losing, but she couldn’t muster the care to worry. She was free; that was all that mattered.
The cab came to a stop some time later, and she sat up. The world spun on its axis. The sound of bees buzzing filled her ears as she broke out in a cold sweat, and she began to shake violently. Sabine tried in vain to make her body cooperate with her, but it was a no go. Her brain was muddled, and nothing made sense anymore. Not even her body would oblige her and move. “Where am I?” Sabine whispered, licking her lips.
