by Dale Mayer
Miles nodded and carried the laptop over, noting each of the red dots located on the map. “It’s not something you think about,” she said, “but seeing a visual like this …”
“I’m still struggling as to why you guys didn’t possibly figure this out before,” Ruby said.
“Remember, Ruby,” Vanessa said. “These guys just came on the job.”
Ruby nodded. “So are the police always that slow?”
“No,” Nico said, “because, just within this last hour, we’ve determined the seventeen women were in different counties and different districts. Sure, there’s a database of crimes, but it’s not shared with all law officers. And not everybody’s on it, and not everybody reports everything, and, over one single year, one missing redhead is not a pattern.”
“No, it’s not,” Vanessa said. “And this dot would have been one woman for some particular year, and then another dot is one for another year, correct?” As she tapped the first one and then another, she watched Miles and Nico nod. “So who noted the similarity in the pattern?”
Miles pointed at Nico.
“But I thought you guys just came on the case?”
Miles nodded. “But Nico worked for MI5 before and then, on special assignment later, had another case in Paris that was similar to this, and it made him take another look. That’s when he found the pattern. Then brought me in to help.”
“Wow,” Vanessa said, looking over at Nico. “Too bad you weren’t on the job seventeen years ago.”
“I can’t judge anybody who was on the job all these years,” Nico said. “It’s a very difficult pattern just to find. Also, even though we know it’s a pattern now, it’s damn hard to pinpoint the kidnapper.” He glanced over at Miles. “What about the video cameras?”
“I have to check in with the team because it makes no sense. Apparently our guy is either lucky, or he has a way of controlling the street cameras.”
“True, or maybe he has some software that just blurs the pixels,” he said.
“I don’t know,” Vanessa said. “He has a hat and a beard, so it’s pretty darn easy for him to change his appearance from one camera to the next.”
He looked at her in surprise and laughed and said, “You’re right. It could be just that easy.” He brought up the video cameras. “While you guys have your coffee, I’ll sit here with Nico, and we’ll look again.”
“He didn’t have any of those disguises on outside on the street when I first escaped,” she said.
“Until he went around a corner,” he said, “and then he could have added a hat or a beard. He could have changed shirts or just took off one. Considering the number of years he could have been doing this—he could have learned to use any number of disguises.”
“A master of disguise.” She thought about it and then nodded. “That fits. There was something very efficient about him.”
“I remember you saying that,” he said. “And, of course, it doesn’t take very much after you’ve done this a few times.”
Just then his phone rang.
“There’s a match on the fingerprints,” the detective said.
“Seriously?” Miles said. “That’s good news. What do we have?”
He hesitated and then said, “A dead man.” And hung up.
Miles turned slowly to look at Nico. “The fingerprints in the second apartment belong to a dead man.”
Nico’s frown was instantaneous. “Shit,” he said.
Miles nodded. “We’re getting the information coming through by email now.” Just then his phone beeped to say it was in. He shifted to the laptop, brought it up and said, “Look at that. So we have a dead man who died supposedly six years ago.”
“He’s been very careful to not leave fingerprints anywhere,” Nico said.
“Yeah. This was on a lightbulb apparently. When he changed the bulb in the bedroom.”
Nico laughed. “Not exactly something that anybody is thinking about when they change a lightbulb.”
“So, if this dead man isn’t who he says he is, then the question is, did our guy here kill this man and make it look like it was him or what? Unless, of course, it was his apartment first.”
At that, Nico winced. “That’s possible too. I’ll bring up the purchase and the deed on the place.”
While Nico worked on his laptop, Miles checked out the information on that fingerprint. Apparently the man died in a car accident, and his body was badly burned. So, was it really him who died, or was it somebody else? If he had owned the apartment at any point in time or had visited the apartment, that’s a different story. He did have a rap sheet of breaking and entering and petty theft though. So it’s possible that the dead man and Ambrose were associates. But it didn’t mean that Vanessa’s imprisonment involved the dead man.
“So, look at that,” Nico said. “He was the owner of that second apartment twelve years ago.”
“And that lightbulb,” Miles said, “may not have been changed out in the last six years?”
“It’s possible, especially if he was not there very long, and the place was vacant for a long time. Or was it one of those long-life LED bulbs? Those last for years.”
“Shit,” Miles said, “so maybe it’s not him.” And when Miles’s phone rang again, he said, “Yes, what’s up?”
“Two other fingerprints. This time it’s a different man.”
“Good, because the fingerprint that you found on the lightbulb matched the owner of that apartment, who bought the place twelve years ago and apparently died in a car accident six years ago.”
“Right. We did figure that out ourselves. Now these two fingerprints are a different story.”
“Where did you find them?”
“Under the toilet seat.”
“Interesting,” he said, frowning. “And who do they belong to?”
“Damon Stahl,” he said. “I’m sending you the information. He’s wanted in Europe.”
“Wanted for what?”
“Kidnapping, sexual offenses, sex trade.”
“Wow. That sounds like our man then,” he said.
“Yep, that’s what I’m thinking. We have an image that I’ve forwarded to you.”
“I’m waiting for it to come through now,” he said. And, sure enough, it came up on his laptop. He brought up the picture and whistled. “That’s him,” he said. “That’s definitely him.” He flipped his laptop around and held it up for Vanessa to see from the bed. The color stripped away from her face, and she nodded. “Yes, that’s him.”
“Did you hear that? That’s Vanessa confirming it.”
“Good. Damon Stahl. So our John Ambrose has reinvented himself as Damon Stahl, John Smith and Barry White,” he said. “That’s the man we want. Unfortunately he’s been wanted for ten years.”
“Ten years in Europe?”
“Yes, and he’s relatively unheard of over here.”
“So, what’s with the seventeen years of the women disappearing?”
“Who knows?” he said. “The warrant outstanding for the European community is ten years old, so he was over there being very active and then came over here and went underground.”
“Great. So, if he’s supplying women for the sex trade, he could have been doing that over there a little more openly until the warrant was issued a decade ago. So he began fishing from this part of the world since then? And then he had to go underground and be a whole lot quieter over here while fishing.”
“Yes,” the detective said. “We don’t have any family or next of kin. Nothing.”
“No. He has no living blood relatives, since he was like one year old. Adopted at twelve. So, we have an alias and a face and his fingerprint. What about DNA?”
“They’re checking it,” he said. “There wasn’t very much in the way of forensic evidence in either of the apartments.”
“No, he’s a pro,” Miles said. “But even pros make mistakes.”
“Well, he’s made one now,” the detective said. “We got his fingerpri
nts. And that puts him in both apartments. So now we have a much better idea of what he’s doing.”
“Not to mention that it’s kitty-corner to where Vanessa and her sister lived.”
“Yes, we brought that up in the map too. We have mapped all seventeen of the missing redheads in relation to that double set of apartments. It doesn’t make sense that he kidnapped all those people and kept them there, but it’s a good system.”
“He could also quite probably have at least one more location.”
“And why is that?” asked the detective, his voice almost distracted.
“No electronics,” he said. “No printer for those photos, no chargers, nothing.”
“Right. So we’re still looking for another property, where he actually lives.”
“Search under his name and his aliases. I know it’s a big stretch, but …”
“Already in progress,” he said. “I’ll let you know if we find anything.”
“Okay,” and they hung up.
“So, interestingly enough, we have a new name, a face and a confirmed ID. We’re setting up an alert for anybody to approach cautiously.” Miles looked at Vanessa. “Did you ever see a weapon?”
She shook her head. “He was the weapon. I figured he would snap my neck like a twig,” she said.
“That muscled?”
She nodded. “That big, that muscled and that dead inside.”
“Good to know,” he said. “And did he ever have a backpack with him?”
“He did out on the street,” she said and nodded. “But I don’t think it was all that big.”
“No, but it’ll have his essentials,” he said. “Now we just have to be lucky enough to track him down.”
“Facial recognition is in progress, scouring the city for him,” Nico said. “So far, nothing.”
“They’ll have to run more than one photo, some with the hats and some with a beard.”
“You know that trying to find somebody who can change disguises like that won’t be easy.”
“No,” Miles said, “not at all. But it’s not impossible. What we need to know is if he has European connections. Would he take a chance of going over there again?”
“Not if Interpol’s after him. That’s quite likely a place he’d avoid.”
“Scotland? Ireland? Or change locations altogether and just walk away from this one because it’s now a bad deal?”
“That’s what he’s more likely to do,” Nico said, “because he’s got an awful lot invested here.”
“He’s also really angry,” Vanessa interrupted. “He won’t let this go. He’ll come after me again.”
“Think so?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “He’s already figuring out how to get to me.”
Miles looked over at her and smiled. “Well, let him figure it out, and then I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter 10
The rest of the evening passed so quickly between naps and long periods of sleep, waking to go to the bathroom, eating and then sleeping some more. By the time Vanessa woke the next morning, she almost felt normal again. As she shifted to get out of the bed, Miles hopped up once again to help her.
“I’m getting much better, you know,” she said good-naturedly.
“Good,” he said. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Did you get any sleep last night?”
“I got some,” he said, “but I kept thinking that we would have an intruder.”
“Me too,” she said. “I kept waking up to make sure I could see you, and I’d fall back asleep again.”
He chuckled. “Happy to help.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do without you though,” she said.
“Not an issue,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere until we find this guy.”
“Promise?” She was at the bathroom door and about to close it, when he hesitated. She frowned up at him. “Promise?” she repeated.
He gave a clipped nod. “I promise.”
She smiled, closed the door and made good use of the bathroom for yet another time. All those trips to the bathroom went unnoticed when she was healthy. But each painful trip now was duly noted. And, when she opened it again, he still stood there, waiting for her. She made it back to the bed, walking much easier, and said, “I’d really like to go home today.”
“When the doctor comes around for his rounds, we’ll see if that’s possible.”
“Do you think I should though?” She sank back down on the bed and stared up at him. “Or is that just foolish?”
“It’s both,” he said cheerfully. “But it’s your home. It’s your natural surroundings, so, of course, you want to go home. You won’t go alone.”
“My sister?”
“I imagine she’ll want to go home too.”
“Well, she didn’t want to go to her friend’s house last night. I know that.”
“Well, until this is a done deal,” he said, “we have to be as smart about our actions as we can.”
“Do you think he’ll attack me at home?”
“As long as I’m there, I’d like to think so,” he said. “But, with us around, it may be too much of a military presence for him to want to tackle it.”
As she sat on the bed, stretching and easing some of her stiff muscles, she asked, “Are you moving in then?”
“I’m definitely staying with you,” he said. “We’ll see how that works out.”
Her phone rang then. She looked at it and frowned. “Ruby, why are you calling so early?”
“I wanted to go home last night, but then I decided that you’re right, and I should go to Mark’s house. So, I’m still over at Mark’s, but I want to get a change of clothes. Do you think it’s okay?”
She looked at Miles. “Ruby wants to get a change of clothing from home.”
“If she can wait until we get there,” he said, “it would be better.”
She relayed the message to Ruby.
Hearing her sister sigh heavily, she reminded her, “Don’t forget what happened to me.”
“I can hardly forget that,” she said and hung up.
At that, she twisted and looked at Miles and said, “Did you ever get a hold of my cousin?”
He shook his head. “No answer at his door and he didn’t answer his phone.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded.
She pulled out her phone, searched her contacts and hit her cousin’s contact number.
When he answered the phone, she said, “Hey, Tristan. A special investigator was trying to get a hold of you yesterday and the day before.” She listened to his surprised voice on the other end. “Something about your visits to the apartment in the last year or so.” He snorted at that. “Do you mind if he talks to you now?”
“No, I have to go to work,” he said. “What’s this all about?”
She put it on Speakerphone, and Miles leaned forward. “I don’t know if you know, but your cousin was kidnapped the day before yesterday and escaped yesterday morning,” he said. “So we’re looking into all aspects of her life.”
“Oh, my God,” Tristan said. “Vanessa, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “But it was a pretty rough ride. So they caught sight of you around my apartment twice. Ruby says she talked to you one of those two times, but the other time you were standing there, staring at the apartment.”
He groaned. “Yeah, that figures that they’d catch sight of that,” he said. “I kept thinking that, if I asked you for a meeting with one of your photographers, then maybe I could get into modeling faster. But then you know that because I sent you an email about it.”
“But you didn’t come up to the apartment, and you just waited?”
“I was waiting for you to come home,” he said. “But you never did.”
“When was that?”
“A few weeks ago,” he said, stifling a yawn audibly through the phone. “I think you were traveling, but I didn’t realize it at the time. I think I was there
a couple other times as well. But honestly it was nothing nefarious. I just wanted to see if there was any chance of you giving me a hand up.”
“And did you give up on that idea?” she asked curiously.
“I looked into a different modeling job,” he said sheepishly. “And I didn’t want to say anything in case it didn’t go anywhere.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said in surprise. “You should do really well with it.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “It’s small bananas at the moment, and I’ll see what I can do with it.”
“Exactly,” she said warmly. “Just keep trying. You never know when something will break.”
“Well, that’s the idea,” he said, laughing. “Anyway I hope that explains the reasons for my visits.”
“Absolutely,” Miles said. “I’m sending you a photo. I want to see if you recognize the man. Call me back as soon as you get it.” And they hung up the call, and Miles quickly sent the picture of Ambrose, and Tristan called back immediately.
“You know what? That’s really weird because I saw him one of the times that I was there waiting. He came up and talked to me. I think it was the last time I was there, just a few weeks ago.”
“What?” Vanessa asked. “What do you mean, he talked to you?”
“Yeah. He said that he was waiting for his girlfriend to come back from a trip, and he noticed me hanging around.”
“So, he was acting like you were stalking his girlfriend?” Miles asked, lunging forward so he could get closer to the phone.
“Yeah, that’s kind of the way it was, yeah,” Tristan said. “Who is this guy?”
“The guy who held me captive,” she said.
“Weird,” he said. “And holy crap, I actually talked to this guy.”
“Did you see where he went, or did he say anything about the apartment he was in?” Miles asked.
“He just pointed up toward your apartment, Vanessa,” he said. “But he was pointing to the building, not necessarily to your apartment.”
