“Did you hear about the three bodies they found today?” Solomon asked.
I put my hand to my mouth. “No.”
He took a sip of his red wine. “Yeah, three women. They found each of them in their cars, all were robbed, and the Blondes used their credit cards and checks. It looks like they’re not even kidnapping them anymore—just killing them and leaving.”
I wondered if the crazy leader had turned her followers into murderers. Of course, they didn’t see it as evil. Everyone is the hero of her own story. Not the sidekick or antagonist or mentor or minion. The hero.
Someone had to stop these heroes.
“Something has definitely changed. With serial killers, there’s an evolution that takes place, and it seems like a similar pattern is going on.” Solomon stared out the window as if lost in thought. “Every murder is the same—with a gun, at close range. The leader is taking over, forcing his or her agenda on the group.”
“Or she’s converting them.”
It was like they wanted to scare the public, to show they could do anything and kill anyone at any time. They were spreading terror—losing Rio its tourist business. But why, to what end? And did it have to do with just one psycho, or was it bigger than that?
I wished I could go behind the lines, into their place, and see what they were saying. The police and FBI had a subjective view—they could only see it from an official perspective. I wondered if my view was real—untwisted.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
Solomon took a breath and looked right at me. “We’re going to find them and do whatever is necessary to stop this insanity.”
We were distracted by a shriek of happiness from Mandy. She kissed the bird on the nose and called over, “It said my name. I think it really likes me, too.”
“Man-dee,” came a squawk. Mandy fed it a cracker. Then she took out her notebook and marked that line off her list of to-dos.
ONCE SOLOMON AND I had finished eating, we left Mandy to polish off her dessert and went outside to walk along a short boardwalk. The sun was setting in a glorious array of orange and pink and other fantastic colors I couldn’t name, and for a few minutes we just stood in companionable silence, enjoying the view.
Then Solomon attempted to hold my hand and the good feeling was gone. I crossed my arms and said, “I’d like to see this through to the end. Let me go with you to the police.”
He tried to tell me that it would be better if he went to the police alone. Something about how they would want to know why I was getting involved in a police matter, and he didn’t have an answer for them other than that I was a nosy citizen.
On a whim, half-joking, I said, “Just tell them I’m a freelance contractor for the FBI. You guys hire them for different things, don’t you?”
He paused. And then, as if he had been thinking it all along, he said, “Okay. It might be smart to make it official, though. This case is getting big, and if we go to trial, we could lose on a technicality. But having an attorney on contract would be helpful. I’ll tell the office at home to send the necessary paperwork.”
I froze, not believing what I was hearing. Did he actually just say I could work for the FBI? My mind whirled, processing the info. Perhaps he’d wanted this all along and had been waiting for the right moment. I brushed that thought away but didn’t dismiss it entirely. He was, after all, FBI.
Then he said something that made my blood turn cold in my veins. “I know you have secrets, Sarah, and I don’t need to know them all.” His big brown eyes widened and he spoke earnestly. “I know about the evidence at your mother’s trial and the mismatched dates that made the judge throw out the case.”
I wanted to run so badly, but I couldn’t move. I heard myself say, “What dates?”
His voice turned gentle. “Your father was walking dead long before he received the blow to the head.” I swallowed. Tears came to my eyes and I hated myself for them. “He was being poisoned. Your mother wasn’t the only one involved, as she was gone on a trip during one of the doses, so she had help.”
I turned my back to him, unwilling to let him see any kind of weakness that might be playing on my face. It was one of my greatest fears—hearing my father’s death brought up by a law enforcer.
“I—I—”
He brushed a stray hair off my neck. “That’s ancient history. It involves you, so I was interested, but I promise on my own mother’s grave that I’ll never bring it up again unless you do.”
I had a good BS detector, and I could tell he wasn’t lying. I believed him. Was I stupid?
“Why did you tell me that?” I asked in a rough voice, then cleared my throat.
“Just so you’ll know you can trust me to keep a secret and not ask questions.”
Those were the two best qualities I thought anyone could possess. My shoulders sagged and I leaned my head against his chest. My cheek rubbed his soft shirt, and I closed my eyes.
His voice returned to all business “So, you working on contract for the FBI. Whaddya think?”
This idea was complicated; a lot of risk would be involved for me. Even though my faith in Solomon was rising, it was still too much to decide so spur of the moment. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Text me your answer by eight o’clock,” he said, turning away.
Eight o’clock. Ugh. There went another chance to sleep in.
SOLOMON AND I MET up for breakfast in the lobby café while Mandy got ready. Before my coffee had even arrived, Solomon set a stack of papers in front of me.
“They’ve already sent the contract.”
I narrowed my eyes. Maybe he’d had it with him the entire time. Was I being set up?
He continued, leaning over my shoulder to go through the papers. “I had someone go by this morning to print them off.”
He riffled through the papers until he got to the last page, where a line had been highlighted as if I were a second grader who needed to know where to write my name. Did he really think that would work? I always tried it on clients I wanted to hurry through the process.
“It’ll take me all morning to look through this—“
He interrupted with a cough-laugh. “Oh, yeah … you’re a lawyer.”
“Which means I’ll analyze these papers inside out and upside down.”
He turned his face. We were so close—almost cheek to cheek. He smelled like mint, coffee, and faintly of sea water.
“Did you go swimming this morning?” I asked.
“Yes. I can’t pass up an ocean swim.”
“And you don’t sleep very well,” I surmised.
His eyes roved over my face, taking me in. A longing in his expression drew me in. Without a thought, I leaned in and kissed him. Our lips barely touched, but it sent warmth through my body. Then he pressed his lips gently against mine, moving his tongue into my mouth, and before I knew it I’d grabbed his neck and pulled him closer to me.
“A-hem.”
We broke apart to see Mandy standing there with raised eyebrows as if she’d just caught us making out during church.
Solomon put on his sunglasses and I poured sugar in my coffee. Mandy just looked at me as if thinking, “I can’t leave you alone for one minute.”
Tipping his head Mandy’s way, Solomon said, “While you study your papers, I’ll talk to your witness. What was his name…?”
“You can’t talk to him. He gave me the address and I don’t want to bring him in on this. Can’t you tell the FBI that a confidential informant gave the address to you? Or that it was me? All part of the service I provide as a freelance contractor.”
“Potential freelance contractor. Or you could sign the papers right now and we could go down to—”
“Not on your life,” I said in a flat tone.
“Okay, then. I hate to do this, but I’ll fudge the dates so you’re covered for all last week.”
It was hard to draw the line when it came to the law. I used to be a down-to-the-letter girl, bu
t in the past year I had found myself more concerned with justice than following every rule. Was it wrong? Maybe, but sometimes two wrongs do make a right.
I SAT ON A lounge chair on our patio. Poring over the papers with a skeptical eye, I didn’t find any words undefined or anything I couldn’t agree to. I even called Joshua a couple times to confirm things.
Mandy had gone out shopping, and by the time she was done, I had signed my name with a flourish at the bottom.
“You may now call me Special Agent Steele,” I said as she lugged her pile of bags into the room.
“That has a nice ring to it,” she said. “Hey, look, since you’ve been so busy catching criminals, I went ahead and bought you an entire wardrobe.”
My eyes widened in shock as she pulled out shirt after shirt and dress pants and skirts and leggings and even a couple pairs of shoes. I was even more surprised to find that I liked them. I smiled when she pulled out a T-shirt that said, “Another day went by and I didn’t use algebra.”
“Good friends can order meals for each other,” I said. “But only truly great friends can pick out a wardrobe for you.”
“And lookee this.” She pulled out neon-green bikinis that looked like they glowed in the dark. “No matter what you say, we’re going out in these tonight.”
“After all this shopping you did for me, I’ll do anything you tell me.” Feeling an overwhelming affection for her, I gave her a big hug. “Thank you.”
She squeezed me back, then handed me an outfit. “Put this on. You’ll look the part of secret agent.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The matte black tuxedo pants were a perfect fit, as was the mint-green blouse with a mock collar.
“Are you meeting Solomon now?”
“Yeah.” I paused. “I have a bad feeling about all this. How things will finish with the Blondes, I mean.”
Her eyebrows creased. “Things like this never end well.”
“No, I mean, I feel like we’re missing something. Things don’t add up. Why would they kidnap people for over two years and one day just start killing?”
“Who knows? Maybe they figured it was easier with no one alive to ID them.” She took out a small compact and began retouching her makeup.
“It’s more than that—it has to be. The other thing is Eddie Lofton …”
“What about him?”
“I don’t know—just got a hunch. Do me a favor. Look into all the murdered women’s financial situations. If they were married, see if you can find anything out of order.”
Mandy hopped up on the edge of the desk. “You mean beyond the stolen credit cards?”
“Yes, everything. It feels like when they started killing, they also went from picking random people to specific targets. So far seven women have been killed, including Mrs. Lofton. See if they’re tied to anyone important. They were assaulted—they could have been tortured for information, passwords, usernames, bank accounts. The police haven’t released the names of the three most recent victims, but they should soon.”
“I bet Solomon knows. I could get their names and run a background check on them, see what I can find.”
“Sorry to leave you again,” I said before heading out the door. “I know this—“
“Shut it,” she said, engrossed in her laptop. “We’ve got work to do.”
I RODE TO THE police station with Solomon. We parked in a small lot in front of a faded yellow two-story building. It was in need of repair and a paint job, but so were most buildings in this part of town. Solomon had called ahead and we had a meeting with the police chief and the lead investigator in ten minutes.
A large man in a uniform and glasses met us and offered us coffee. It smelled like dirt water, so I declined, but Solomon took a cup. Once again, I had to question his taste.
“This is Chief Lucas.” Inspector Paulo waved his fat finger toward an even fatter man in a white button-up shirt with a tie that was much too short. “Chief, this is the FBI—Mr. Solomon and his consultant.”
“Nice to meet you.” Solomon stuck out his hand and the chief shook it. He eyed me with open suspicion.
The chief didn’t stand up, merely leaned over his desk. I decided to lay low on this one. The vibe in the room was that a woman should not be in this line of work, and it was not the time to fight for my rights.
“I am very interested in what you have to say about our little problem.”
Solomon nodded and took a seat in a chair next to mine. The cramped office was cluttered with boxes, files strewn here and there, and crooked pictures of girls in bikinis on the walls.
“I emailed you our report so you should have everything we have, but I wanted to go over it with you personally. The last thing the FBI wants to do is step on your toes.”
Paulo cleared his throat and scooted his chair forward a little. The three of us were on the other end of the desk—it felt like a meeting with the school principal. “I looked over this report—you have some good intel here. What do you know of this woman?” He held up the picture off the security camera.
“In the course of her investigation,” Solomon motioned to me, “Miss Steele had a run-in with this woman after the murder of Tanya Lofton. Sarah works with the FBI as a freelance consultant and we brought her on this case because of her special skill set.”
Chief Lucas wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and looked at me. “What special skills?”
I decided to go in soft. “I have a knack for finding people and making them talk. Call it a gift.”
“Miss Steele is also a criminal lawyer back in the States and a very good investigator.”
The room fell quiet and both men looked me over as if I was the newest animal at the zoo. Chief Lucas finally spoke, and I let out my breath. “Very well.” Motioning to Paulo, the chief cleared his throat. “What did you find out about the girl?”
Shifting in his seat, Paulo glanced through the file and back up to the chief. “We got lucky, a much-needed break. One of my people recognized the girl. We confirmed her to be Emilia Lopes.” He handed us all a file on Emilia. “She’s been in and out of juvie on drug possession charges. We don’t know where she’s living, and the address doesn’t match anyone in relation to her.”
“What do we know about the address?” Chief Lucas asked.
Solomon took out a piece of paper and handed it to Lucas. “We discreetly asked around and found out that the house is owned by an elderly woman by the name of Margret Caio. She has two children—one daughter, and a son who died a few years ago in a local gang war. Not sure of her connection to Emilia or even if there is one. We’re going in somewhat blind.”
“We’ll send a man down there to talk to Caio, see what she knows,” Chief Lucas said.
Paulo mumbled something and the chief shot him an irritated look. “Speak your mind, Paulo. What’s wrong?”
“We’ve been trying to get this gang for a long time. Up till now we’ve had nothing—no leads, no pictures or anything to give us a hint of who the girls are. Now we have a name, a face, and an address. We can’t blow this. I think going in as police would be a mistake. You know how everyone feels about the Blondes on that side of town.”
Solomon agreed. “Maybe go in undercover, see if we can get her talking before we take the hardline approach.”
The chief pushed back in his chair and licked his lips. The buttons on his shirt strained under the pressure of his girth, and I was prepared for one to pop off and fly across the room.
“For once, I agree with you. It should be handled differently.”
Paulo looked straight at me. “Miss Steele, you blend right in. You should go talk to her. We could put a wire on you and see if you’re as good as the FBI claims.”
Solomon stood up as if a bee had stung him. “No, I’ll do it. Sarah isn’t trained for this kind of thing.”
Chief Lucas snorted. “You reek of America. And a few minutes ago you said Steele is one of the best. Didn’t you hire her to do this sort of thing? She goes
in with a wire, she has backup. It’s not a dangerous situation. Our people will be on it. You can assist, but this is my show now.”
Solomon’s face flushed and his jaw worked.
I stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I know her face; if Emilia is there, I’m the best person to talk to her. And if only Margret is there, you know that I’m more likely to get an old woman to talk than you are.”
After a respectful nod to the police, Solomon turned and left the office without a word. I let him go. This wasn’t his call. I held back a smile at the thought of going undercover. The rush was the same as when I was in the courtroom—the challenge of getting someone to break and give up something they wanted to hide. I was good at getting people to talk, and now all my skills would be put to the test.
I was ready for it. Time to see if I was right about the Blondes.
BEFORE THE POLICE ATTACHED the wire to me, Solomon took my hand and pulled me to an empty meeting room. He said with a wry look in his eye, “When you’re out there, don’t do anything stupid.” He’d been short with me ever since the meeting with Chief Lucas. “Find out what you can, but don’t push unless you think you can get her to talk.”
“It’ll be fine. I bet she’s one of the girls’ grandmothers or aunt or relative. Or maybe their crack dealer.” I winked.
He took me in his arms and whispered in my ear, “I don’t like this, Sarah. It feels wrong.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I would have gone to talk to her alone if I wasn’t trying to keep you in the loop. What’s the worst that can happen? She’ll jump me and I’ll have to fight off a senior citizen?”
“Not funny.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“You better.” He kissed my cheek and all at once I wanted him so badly I ached. I leaned in for a kiss just as he pulled away.
He was so confusing. He was the one who wanted me on his team, and now he was acting all prickly. He was getting to me, and I wondered if I was getting to him in the same way. I knew he liked me, but to what end?
The Steele Collection Books 1-3: Sarah Steele Legal Thrillers Page 24
