Nameless (Sinister Secrets Book 1)

by Candle Sutton

  “Looks like our unsub.” His words, softly spoken, carried on the light breeze.

  “Likely.” Unless somehow the unsub’s MO had leaked. She’d not heard it in the media, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t out there somewhere.

  Still, the likelihood of a copycat seemed low.

  Her calves began to burn from holding the crouch so long. Rising, she surveyed the area.

  The purse’s contents were scattered across several feet of asphalt. Had the victim dropped her purse when the unsub assaulted her? Or had the unsub taken advantage of the victim being distracted?

  It probably didn’t matter much either way.

  She looked at the surrounding buildings, the light posts, and the power lines.

  No sign of any camera.

  Not that she was surprised. The unsub hadn’t been careless enough to get caught on video before. Why should now be any different?

  There was a camera by the machine to pay for parking, but it was focused on the machine itself, not the lot.

  Dak approached the detectives. “What do we know so far?”

  “A guy who parks here for work noticed the purse this morning and called it in. ‘Bout five a.m. Said that it wasn’t here when he left work yesterday.”

  Kevyn nodded at the white vehicle. “Is that car registered to her?”

  “Yep.”

  Not exactly itching to offer information, was he? “Can we pull the payment records? See when she came in?”

  “Already submitted a request, but parking’s free from eight p.m. to six a.m. If she came in during that time, there won’t be any records.”

  Which, given that it was adjacent to a bar, was a distinct possibility.

  They needed to get back to the office to investigate the victim. Maybe she’d end up being the key to stopping their kidnapper-turned-killer.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Ebony wheeled the small rolling cart to the side as she slid the key into the lock. A grating noise echoed as the lock released.

  She pulled the door open.

  A narrow hallway stretched before her.

  Pushing the cart, she started down the long, dismally-lit hallway. Her shiny red high-heeled shoes – much fancier than anything she’d ever owned before – clicked on the concrete floor beneath her.

  She passed the first of the four cells, which was empty, and stopped outside the second one. Oliver barely glanced at her as he lay back on the cot.

  Well, he may not have to be cordial, but she’d be nice. Maybe one of these days he’d come around. She forced a smile. “Good morning, Oliver. I brought breakfast. Scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. I hope you like it.”

  “Whatever.” The words, said with a bit of a pout, erased her smile.

  She picked up Oliver’s plate, which had slightly larger helpings because he was a man, and approached the narrow slit designed specifically for food delivery.

  While she’d never been in prison, she knew from pictures and television that these cells were designed much like those in a prison. The only difference was that the cells were larger, and the bathroom was walled in instead of exposed.

  And the furnishings were a little nicer. The mattress Oliver lay on, while not overly plush, was thicker than the standard prison-issued cot.

  Where Jax had gotten this facility, she had no idea.

  She really didn’t even know where they were. Sometimes she heard loud horns, but even then she could tell they weren’t super close.

  Oliver didn’t move, not even as the plate slid onto the small platform.

  Fine by her. He always ate the food she left, even when he pretended to not be interested.

  She deposited three bottles of water on the floor inside his cell, then rose, passed the empty cell next door, and moved to the cell at the end.

  Wendy sat on her cot, back against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. Head tilted back, her closed eyes angled toward the ceiling.

  Was she sleeping? Sitting up?

  Wendy’s eyes flipped open and fixed on her.

  What would it be like to have Wendy as a friend? They could sit and talk and play games…

  Ebony reigned the thoughts in.

  Until Wendy and Oliver accepted their position here, there would be no friendships, no game playing. They would live in these cells, except at dinnertime, and not get to enjoy the same freedoms she did.

  “Hi, Wendy.”

  Wendy hesitated, then offered a small smile. “Thanks for always bringing breakfast.”

  Someone was thanking her? Ebony stared at Wendy.

  No one ever thanked her. Not Jax, or Ava, and certainly not Oliver. Before now, Wendy never had either.

  Wendy rose from her cot and crossed the cell, her eyes widening slightly. “Did he do that to you?”

  She felt Wendy’s gaze travel across the slight bruising on her chin to the massive bruise encompassing her upper arm.

  “No! Of course not!” The lie rolled off her tongue with more desperation than she would’ve liked. “Jax is amazing. He would never hurt me on purpose.”

  Sympathy in Wendy’s eyes told her Wendy didn’t buy the story.

  Ebony brought her chin up. Well, that was too bad.

  Last night had been an exception. Jax had been worked up, really worked up, about something. He hadn’t volunteered it, and she knew better than to ask.

  Although he was never particularly gentle, last night he’d been especially rough and demanding. He had never hit her. The bruises were from him holding her too tightly. He hadn’t meant to hurt her.

  Wendy clearly didn’t understand.

  “No one should ever treat you that way. Ever.” Wendy reached out to touch her, but Ebony stepped back. Wendy’s hand dropped. “You deserve to be treated with kindness and respect.”

  At least Wendy couldn’t see the other bruises. All from last night. “He does. You don’t know him.”

  “I know real men don’t abuse women.”

  What kind of fantasy world did Wendy live in? Most men lived to abuse women. Ebony had experienced that truth more times than she could count. “You don’t know anything.”

  “Don’t you want safety? Don’t you want to be free?” Wendy’s voice dropped as though afraid Jax would overhear.

  And she should be. Jax had cameras in the hallway. They might have sound. “I’ve never been safer in my life. And I am free.”

  “Then I’m sorry for you.” Wendy’s tone sounded genuinely sorry.

  She was probably only sorry for herself. No one had ever been sorry for Ebony except Jax.

  Wendy swept her hand around. “Because this isn’t freedom. Not for me. And not for you.”

  Enough of this. Listening to these lies would only make Jax angry. “This cell is your choice. When you choose to accept Jax’s generosity, then you’ll be free like me.”

  Without another word, Ebony slid the plate of food into the opening and dropped off a few bottles of water. Swinging the cart around, she hurried down the hallway, her heels tapping a monosyllabic beat that echoed off the cold concrete walls.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  “Seattle PD found a body. Matches the description of our latest vic.”

  Sid’s words echoed in the sudden silence. Or maybe only in her mind.

  Kevyn glanced at Dak to find him already rising from his chair.

  “Kevyn, you’re with me. I want your take on the scene. Sid, contact the SPD and let them know we’re coming. Have JD and Felicia keep digging into our vic. We’ll reconvene when we get back.”

  She rose, retrieving her badge from the top of the desk and slipping her Glock into her holster.

  Dak gestured for her to precede him out the door, then fell into step beside her as they headed toward the elevator.

  Given that Dak’s friend had picked up her car an hour ago, she knew she wasn’t driving. Honestly, she probably wouldn’t have been anyway. Dak struck her as the type of guy who always liked to be in control. No doubt he was always the one behind the whee
l.

  She waited for him to merge with traffic before volunteering the information she’d recently discovered. “Paula Lennox works at Nobles.”

  Dak didn’t remove his eyes from the road, but a slow nod acknowledged her words had hit home. “So, the retail connection holds.”

  “It does.” Had he given any more thought to the undercover operation? Part of her wanted to ask, but she refrained. She’d already said her piece. It was up to him to take it or leave it.

  He turned onto a steep road that angled toward the water.

  The Puget Sound sparkled under the rare winter sunshine.

  “If,” Dak put heavy emphasis on the word, “we considered an undercover op, what were you thinking?”

  “We target the departments our other victims worked in. Two of us would go in, probably me and Sid, and we’d play up being new in town or alone or something.”

  “I’m still not sold on the two-agent angle. That’s a big percentage of our team.”

  She couldn’t deny that, but she wasn’t ready to back down either. “Our unsub doesn’t seem to stick to one gender, so I think we need to have both represented. So far, he’s only taken people who are white, which makes me think he’s unlikely to change. Plus, we’re the smallest ones on the team and he gravitates toward those who don’t look like they can fight back.”

  Of course, both she and Sid were well trained in hand-to-hand combat, but the unsub wouldn’t know that.

  Dak nodded slowly, but didn’t reply.

  By now, they’d almost reached the waterfront.

  “Where did you say the body was found?” She didn’t think he’d said, but if he had she’d completely missed it.

  “At the end of a pier. Used mostly by fishermen, which is who phoned it in.”

  “Why a pier?” She didn’t expect Dak to have an answer to that one. “There are easier places to dump a body, so it must have some significance.”

  “Well, we’re almost there. Maybe he left us a clue this time.”

  Hmmm. This pier wasn’t as remote as the last one. Was the unsub getting more brazen? “I don’t suppose there are cameras on this pier.”

  “I’m not sure, but I’d guess not. Our guy seems too careful.”

  So far. But no one was perfect. All they needed was one misstep and they’d have him.

  Swirling emergency lights greeted them as Dak turned left onto a waterfront road. A police officer stopped them as they pulled into the parking lot, but waved them through upon seeing Dak’s badge.

  A brittle wind whipped up off the water, pushing her hair back and cutting through the lightweight jacket she’d grabbed on her way out of the house.

  If she’d known then that she’d be down by the water, she would have brought something heavier. Maybe some gloves.

  A dozen gawkers hovered at the edge of the parking lot. Could one of them be the person they were after?

  She studied each one. About half of them had the weathered look of career fishermen with chapped skin, unruly hair, and water-resistant clothing. None looked happy to be waiting behind the police line. Three young women, college age by the looks of them, each with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands, whispered together. Two older guys, both wearing US Navy caps, sat on the edge of a three foot high planter box and watched the activity with interest.

  While one of the fishermen could be involved, her gut told her the group was nothing more than the standard curious crime scene junkies.

  She held onto the cool, damp handrail as she navigated the sloping walkway leading down to the water.

  At the end of the pier, several officers waited.

  Conversation ceased as she and Dak approached. Dak made the introductions, then they turned toward the body.

  The woman lay on her side, hair splayed behind her. Unlike the last body, this one was fully dressed. Her face angled toward the water, her hands posed to cover her face.

  Why her face? To hide who she was?

  Or did the unsub feel she had something of which she should be ashamed?

  “Have we ID’d her?” Dak’s question floated on the wind behind Kevyn as she crouched on the edge of the pier to get a better look at the woman’s face.

  Without moving the hands, she couldn’t see everything, but she saw the high cheekbones and sweetheart hairline.

  “Not yet. No purse that we’ve found and no ID on the body.”

  It was the woman who’d gone missing last night. Too coincidental to not be her.

  The biggest question was why he’d killed her.

  Of the victims of which they were aware, he’d only killed one – and even that one hadn’t been killed right away. To have a victim turn up within hours of her abduction could indicate a shift in the unsub’s profile, perhaps even a psychotic break.

  Were the other abductees dead? Or did they still have time to bring them home?

  She dreaded returning to the jail to tell Esterson that his daughter was dead. Yet if that happened, she’d allow no one else to do it. She would face him herself, since she’d been the one to promise to bring Ava home.

  Maybe it wouldn’t come to that.

  She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Ava, not to mention the other victims, deserved the opportunity to live a full life in freedom.

  She refocused on the body.

  There were no obvious signs of trauma, so no indication that the victim had been murdered in a fit of rage, but there was a lot she couldn’t see. The autopsy would give her a better indication of what was going on.

  She slowly rose.

  The dump site being on a pier was important, although she hadn’t quite figured out why. But she would, and it would help identify the unsub.

  She slowly surveyed the surrounding area. No boats docked at this pier. Was it reserved for loading and unloading? The equivalent of a fifteen-minute parking zone?

  She didn’t know enough about docks to know if that was even a thing, but it was worth looking into.

  The fact that the body had been dumped here, where no boats were docked and no one would be likely to see, made her think their unsub was familiar with the area.

  Her mind returned to the fishermen waiting behind the police line.

  Maybe it was one of them after all.

  Before they left, she’d make sure to talk to them.

  Large warehouses perched on the edge of the water on both sides.

  Maybe the dock was privately owned by one of them. If so, it warranted a closer look at the people who worked there.

  From the size of the warehouses, she guessed that would be a lot of people.

  She stepped aside as the medical examiner headed toward them.

  “Hey, George. Kinda slow today, aren’t you? Even the Feds beat you here.” One of the detectives ribbed as the balding ME got within earshot.

  In spite of the detective’s kidding tone, the ME glared at him. “Multi-car pileup on the Interstate. Ugly.”

  The detective clamped his mouth shut and turned away.

  She couldn’t tell if the ME had been called to the scene or simply caught up in the traffic, but based upon his response, she’d guess the former.

  The wiry ME pulled some gloves from his kit and knelt next to the victim.

  Dak came up beside her. “George is a good ME, but he won’t tell us anything until after he completes his report.”

  Sounded like the voice of experience talking. Which meant standing here observing would do nothing but waste valuable time.

  Maybe she could still learn something. “Let me give it a go.”

  In her peripheral, she saw Dak shrug. “Suit yourself. He’s never given up anything to any of us.”

  It was all in the tactics they chose to employ, right?

  She sure hoped that was the case with this guy.

  Approaching the body, she maintained a respectful distance and crouched opposite the ME. He flicked up his gaze, spearing her with narrowed eyes. Tightly pressed lips indicated his displeasure.

 
Definitely a hard case.

  She offered a well-practiced soft smile. “G’day. Sounds like you’ve already had a crazy day today. I’m sorry.”

  The firm line to his lips softened slightly. His head dipped. “Hard when there’re kids involved.”

  Must be referring to the multi-car pileup he’d mentioned.

  “It always is.” Which gave her the perfect segue to the case at hand. “I don’t want to be in your way, but I wanted to ask you about our victim.”

  “I won’t know anything until I examine her more closely.” Warning colored his words.

  “She may be the key to finding a missing little girl and bringing her home safely. Do you have any preliminary thoughts you’d be willing to share?”

  A stoic mask froze his face.

  Dang. He was tough to read. “The girl is only eight. She’s already been missing four days.”

  The pause lengthened. She held his gaze.

  Finally, he sighed. “I’m just getting started, but there’s no sign of trauma. So far.”

  No missing the emphasis on those two words. She nodded. “Of course.”

  “See this?” He indicated toward something on the victim’s lips.

  Sounded like an invitation if she’d ever heard one. Kevyn moved closer.

  Looked like something was crusted on the victim’s lips and chin. She glanced up at the ME to find him watching her closely.

  “What is that?” Even as the question left her mouth, she knew the response she’d get. “I mean, your best guess, based upon professional experience?”

  A brief hesitation. “Best guess? Maybe vomit. Or excess saliva with something mixed in.”

  “Could we be looking at poison?”

  “I don’t have enough data to make a conclusion like that.”

  No surprise there. “Does anything else stand out about this scene?”

  “The position of the body.” He gestured to the stretched out corpse. “It’s most unnatural.”

  “I thought so, too.” Kevyn pointed to the woman’s legs. “The straightness of the legs, for starters. And the way her hair is fanned out almost perfectly behind her. Then, of course, there are the hands over her face.”

  “Almost like he’s trying to hide her face?”