The Steele Collection Books 1-3: Sarah Steele Legal Thrillers

by Aaron Patterson

  “What are you gonna do? Search her locker?”

  She stopped in her tracks. “You think I should?”

  “No,” I exclaimed, laughing. “I think you should calm down and look through your suitcase and purse again. You’re always losing things and then finding them ten minutes later.”

  As she riffled through her purse, she muttered, “This is it. This is the mystery I have to solve. I have to figure out where it is.”

  I chimed in. “It’s ‘The Girl with the Missing Dragon Tattoo Bracelet.’” I pulled my hair back into a messy bun and chose simple silver hoop earrings to accent my dress.

  Mandy wore a slip and still had her hair up in a towel. “We should report it. I bet there are cameras in the halls—we could get them to show us the last few hours and see who was in our room.”

  “Mandy, come on—I’m sure it will turn up. I don’t think anyone stole it.”

  “Sarah Steele, this is our first case in Rio. The bellhop might be a part of a gang, and she took it to draw us out. Then, when we find her, she’ll drug us and sell us on the black market as sex slaves.” Mandy turned toward the bathroom, but not before I saw the smile she was hiding.

  “Then we’d best not risk it,” I said. “Rest in peace, dragon bracelet.”

  “Sure, fine, whatever,” she called from the other room. “You handle important cases for work all the time, but you can’t help your best friend out.”

  “Tell you what. If we can’t find it by tomorrow, I’ll go to the front desk and demand to see the surveillance tapes. We’ll get to the bottom of this dragon bracelet thing, okay?”

  “Fine, but I’m not kidding—it was stolen.”

  When I heard the blow dryer start, I peeked in the bathroom. She was drying her hair and painting her toenails at the same time.

  “How long’s this gonna take?”

  She sent me a sharp look. “You can’t rush perfection.”

  “Well then, Mary Poppins, I’m going on a walk. Meet you outside on the patio. Try to be done before Christmas.”

  As I left the room, the Blondes came to mind. Solomon had texted not to go anywhere alone. Shrugging, I softly closed the door. I wouldn’t leave sight of the hotel. What were the odds that I’d get kidnapped on my way to the beach? Even with my penchant for trouble, no one was that unlucky. Besides, if the Blondes took me for my money, they’d be the unlucky ones. My savings account could only buy a couple pairs of Jimmy Choos.

  VITORIA’S HEART STILL HADN’T slowed by the time Mia, her first-in-command, picked her up. She swerved to a stop in front of her. The white Jeep was an older ’02 model. They traded in cars after every job. Emilia knew a guy who got them a great deal.

  Mia knew where to go. They’d talked over this plan for a month, ever since their contact had made the first call. Mia was a good driver. She knew when to gun it and what alleys to take. She used the horn superfluously, cursing out the window as if the other drivers had ridiculed her mother.

  They got to the hotel and everything slowed. That’s just the way the tourists liked it: slow. People meandered along the walk. They lazily talked in the shade, strolled to the beach, and drank martinis in lounge chairs—it was enough to make Vitoria’s blood boil. These people had never worked an honest day in their lives. They deserved to be robbed. She wanted their money to go to people who had calluses on their hands … after she collected a hefty percentage for herself, of course.

  The sun lost its zenith, fading in the sky. Vitoria calmed, her blood no longer pumped full of adrenaline. She missed it. Some people loved the thrill and escape of drugs or alcohol or extreme sports—she needed this. She couldn’t wait for the next bit of excitement, the feeling of losing all control.

  “They should be looking for her by now,” Mia said.

  Vitoria just nodded. An odd peace settled over her. There was no unease in her soul from what she’d done—it settled just right. The woman had deserved it and no one would even miss her.

  “Hey, look,” Mia whispered.

  Their target walked out of the hotel. She was prettier than her picture and wore stilettos with a short dress. If she were poor, people would say she dressed like a hooker, but because she was rich, they called her stylish.

  “Put on your mask.” Vitoria pulled a thin black ski mask from her pocket and pulled it over her head. She adjusted the air conditioning so it blasted in her face. Despite that, sweat trickled down her cheek.

  “Let’s roll.”

  I MADE MY WAY down to the lobby and caught several passing looks from men and women both as I walked out the front door. I was not used to such attention. Most the time I was in business attire and wore a shark-type attitude. But here, I felt different—relaxed. It felt good to be dressed down, I smiled easily, and I felt like I didn’t have to be on my guard.

  After taking a step outside, I had to close my eyes and pause, enjoying the breeze. It ruffled my hair playfully and smelled like flowers and sea salt.

  Chills suddenly went up my arms and I knew someone was watching me. I opened my eyes to see the valet sitting on a stool in front of his podium, wearing a cheeky grin.

  He had white, shoulder-length dreadlocks with beads and feathers in them, and his face was covered in freckles. He bowed slightly. “Need a car?”

  “No, thanks. Just going for a walk.” Even though his grin was on the lewd side, his eyes looked light, as if he meant no harm. With a nod, I started walking.

  “Sure thing,” he said. “Be careful out there. Them Blondes love your type.”

  I stopped short. What did he know about them? “Blondes?”

  He looked down and tugged on his dark red vest. “Yes, the Blondes. You’ve heard of ‘em, haven’t you? They kidnap wealthy women tourists and take their money. Credit cards and the like. Max the cards out in a few hours and let their captives go afterwards. It’s been going on for some time now and the authorities can’t catch ‘em.”

  “I wouldn’t be a target—I’m not exactly loaded with bullion.”

  He squinted at me. “They all blonde, that’s why they call ‘em the Blondes. Though none of ‘em have been identified. You look like one of ‘em—maybe you is one of ‘em.” He chuckled as if it were a hilarious joke.

  “If I were, you wouldn’t know it anyway, would you…” I checked out his nametag. “Marco?”

  Marco laughed nervously. “No, I guess not.”

  “But they don’t hurt anyone?”

  “No way. Never. They’re just after the cash.” He lowered his voice. “Did you know they give money to orphanages and families and churches that need it?”

  That was interesting. “So they’re like Zorro? Taking from the rich and giving to the poor?” Something about that struck a chord in me and I spoke without thinking. “More power to them.”

  Marco’s eyes rose in surprise, and then he settled on his chair with a grunt. “Amen. But you be careful.”

  “I will.” They could probably recognize that my shoes didn’t cost more than thirty bucks and thus I wouldn’t be worth their trouble. Plus, I figured I could take them. In fact, it might be kind of fun to pit myself against a gang of girls.

  Wait, that was stupid. I was here to relax. Relax, and eat lobster. I made my way toward the beach.

  The heat and humidity were heavy, but in a weird way, I loved it. The weather was a presence—it had weight.

  A warm breeze came off the ocean. I walked down a concrete path that reminded me of the Greenbelt back home. People jogged, rode bikes, and walked. There were a few hundred yards of sand between the path and the water. It was scattered with seashells. I was half tempted to scrap dinner and go sit on the beach again to watch the sun go down. Maybe we would have time to do that after dinner.

  Squealing car tires rent the air. The hair on the back of my neck stood up straight. A white Jeep sped across the American hotel parking lot and flew out the exit. It narrowly missed hitting a car, which swerved and honked. Why were they in such a hurry?

&nb
sp; There was a figure on the concrete lying on his back. I rushed over, my heels clicking on the pavement.

  As I neared, I heard him calling, “Help, please, help. Someone. Policia—”

  “Sir, are you okay?” I ran up to him as fast as my heels would allow. He had a terrible gash on his forehead and his eyes were glazed, as if in shock.

  “Tanya. Tanya … they took Tanya.” Jerking quickly to his feet, he wobbled like a drunk man and would’ve fallen on his face if I hadn’t put my shoulder under his arm and held him steady.

  “Sir, you should sit,” I said in a soothing tone, lowering him to the concrete before he crushed me. A couple approached, eyes wide, and I asked them to go tell the hotel manager and call the police.

  The man put his head between his knees. Blood trickled down his cheek from the wound on his forehead. Judging from his worn skin and the white hair above his ears, he was probably in his late forties. He wore a slim-fitting T-shirt, designer jeans, and shoes that looked like they cost more than my whole shoe collection. But his watch stood out—it was a cheap plastic piece with a cracked face. I let go of him, but he didn’t release my arm.

  “They took her.” He looked over at me, eyes scared. “They took Tanya.”

  “Who took her?” I asked, although I had a feeling I knew the answer before he even said it.

  “Girls in ski masks.” He took a quivering breath.

  Had it been the Blondes? A morbid thrill went up my spine. They’d been so close to me.

  “What happened?”

  His speech was choppy as he tried to sort through his thoughts. “Two girls. Both blonde. Sped up to me and Tanya. One came at me fast. Punched me so hard, I fell down. Then they shoved Tanya in the car. Her face. She was so scared. She didn’t even scream.”

  His eyes cleared, and he looked at me as if for the first time. Then his expression shadowed. “If they hurt her, I’ll kill them.” The panic choked his voice.

  My heart melted to see him so upset. He looked like a man who was strong and in control—even the way he spoke at this moment was sure—but he was breaking down.

  “Shh, I know.” I took a Kleenex from my purse and dabbed it on his forehead to stem the bleeding, which had slowed already. “From what you’ve told me, they might be a gang called the Blondes. They’re micro-kidnappers.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s when they kidnap the victim for a couple of hours, max out all their credit cards, and then drop them off in another part of town.”

  He clenched his jaw, and his hands shook.

  “Unharmed,” I finished.

  “Oh, thank God.” He swallowed, wincing as I pressed the Kleenex to his gash. I was surprised the hotel managers weren’t out here already. Perhaps they were too busy calling their lawyers.

  “Now you should go inside to wait for the police and get your wound cleaned up.”

  He took my hand and sucked in a shuddering breath. He was on the verge of tears. “She must be so scared—she doesn’t handle stress very well. I should never have … She said this vacation was a bad idea …” He trailed off. I gave him time to recover. I remembered when I was in a similar situation and the feeling of possibly losing a loved one flooded back, making my gut hurt.

  “Sir, we should get you inside. And you should report this immediately. Your brain loses details of the memory every second you don’t write it down.”

  “The Jeep didn’t have a license plate,” he said quickly. “I noticed that.”

  “Was there anything particular about the girls?”

  “They were young, I think. I didn’t see their faces. Their clothes were simple—T-shirts and jeans. I didn’t notice anything else. Except …”

  “What?”

  “There was a mini surfboard attached to their rearview mirror.”

  “That’s a good detail—anything like that will help the police find them. Though they’ll probably ditch the car soon enough.”

  “My wife and I are staying in the Palms Hotel, right there.” He pointed to the very expensive-looking hotel on the other side of the parking lot. “We were going to look for her friend who never came back from her shopping trip this afternoon. Do you think they took her too?” The more we talked, the steadier he became. He took the Kleenex from me, and after pressing it to his forehead another second, threw the blood-soaked tissue on the pavement.

  This case was getting more interesting by the second. “That’s worth telling the police. What’s your friend’s name?”

  “Nancy Parker.” He looked closer at me. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Sarah Steele. I’m an assistant district attorney back home in the States. Just taking a vacation. Who are you?” I helped him up.

  “Eddie Lofton, state representative of Nebraska. We’re on vacation as well, our twentieth anniversary. It was my gift to her.”

  My BS sensor went off at that. If the Loftons were on an anniversary vacation, why would she bring a friend? That could mean their marriage was … I stopped myself. I told my brain to stop trying to solve the case and just help the guy.

  Eddie cleared his throat. “So we have a lead already, these … Blondes.”

  “Can’t say for sure. From your description, I’d say they fit the bill, but I don’t know very much. You really should talk to the police.”

  We went slowly across the parking lot toward the lobby. I still had my arm looped through his to steady him. But as we walked he stood up straighter, took a deep breath, and seemed to find his strength. When he looked down at me, I saw the panic was gone and determination was in its place. “I should call the credit card companies and cancel them.”

  I shook my head. “You should wait for the police and see what they say first. You don’t want to piss off the gang if they’re trying to use her cards.”

  The hotel manager and security came running out of the hotel with harried expressions.

  Before they reached us, Eddie turned to me with a grave face. “It seems extra beneficial to have a lawyer at my side. Will you come with me to the police station and embassy to get this worked out?” His voice was professional, but his eyes pled with me.

  I bit my lip. On the one hand, here was a man in need asking for help. On the other, I felt like it was something the police could handle, and he didn’t really need me to babysit him. Then I caught sight of a figure walking across the parking lot, looking worried. Mandy. Her face was full of distrust, as if I had sought out this bit of trouble.

  The sea wind blew gently and the gulls called above. I inhaled and smelled diesel, but beyond that was the unmistakable scent of budding flowers. It pulled me out of myself, out of crisis mode, and helped me see the bigger picture.

  There had to be a point where I could just walk away and not try to save the world. Other people could take care of this—it was their job.

  The manager and security reached us and instantly started asking twenty questions, but Eddie didn’t take his eyes off me. I slowly shook my head, looking at Mandy. “I really think the police and embassy will help you more than I can.”

  His shoulders slumped a bit and I felt a pang of guilt for not helping him. I slipped my card out of my purse and handed it to him. Mandy shot me a disapproving look. “But if things don’t go smoothly, give me a call and I’ll come right away.” I heard sirens wailing in the distance.

  Eddie shook my hand, gripping it like he wouldn’t let go. “Just come with me to the station.”

  “I’m sorry, no. I hope your wife is found quickly.” I gave him a small smile.

  That’s when security pulled him away. He entered the building with a backwards glance in my direction.

  I mentally said goodbye to him, and to the case. The only mystery I wanted to solve here in Rio was Mandy’s missing bracelet.

  She came up beside me with an eyebrow cocked. “You spend five hours in Rio and already you—”

  “Refused to help a state representative find his kidnapped wife.”

  Mandy gas
ped. “Geez.”

  “Two blonde girls took her. The police can handle it.” I started toward our hotel, where a cab waited in front of Marco’s podium. Mandy must have ordered it for us.

  “We’ll be much too busy parasailing and surfing and getting our nails done to work on that.”

  She was right. There was a time for everything. A time to get involved and a time to stand back. A time to work and a time to eat huge lobster dinners.

  “Ready for the best lobster you’ll ever eat in your life? They’re so fresh they’ll be crawling off your plate.” Mandy climbed into the cab.

  “Where’s my bib?”

  As I closed the cab door, I hoped whoever got Eddie’s case was good at his job. His vulnerability and fear still haunted me, and I didn’t want to imagine what Tanya was going through. Promising myself to check on him later, I did my best to put it out of my mind.

  VITORIA LOOKED PAST HER new patent leather boots, propped up on her desk, to the three women who were bragging about their latest plunder. They all had long blonde hair. Handbags were piled on the wooden table stretched along the east wall. Emilia giggled and pranced around the room in a long fur coat. It was at least a hundred and ten degrees in the warehouse they called their “cave,” and yet she pranced. They’d searched for an abandoned building with fast exits in every direction and had found this. Their little headquarters wasn’t much more than a barn—a wooden structure, square and open, filled with trunks and wooden shipping crates. There were two new Ducatis parked in one corner. A desk and a makeshift office sat in the other corner, which was Vitoria’s domain.

  It wasn’t glamorous, but it was safe.

  Tied to a chair with duct tape was the rich white woman. She’d stopped struggling ten minutes ago.

  “The thing I love about this is the shoes. God, I could have a thousand pairs and it still wouldn’t be enough,” Lili said. “Platforms, stilettos, sandals, boots, Choo, Vuitton, Miu Miu, Gucci—gimme, gimme, gimme.” She giggled. She was the shortest one of the gang, and the youngest. And acted like it.