Nameless (Sinister Secrets Book 1)

by Candle Sutton

  Meaning he’d been intoxicated. Dak didn’t need to be ten years younger to read between the lines on that one. He turned to Garcia. “How about you?”

  “He was white. Had on a baseball hat that hid his face. Go Mariners.” Garcia held up his hands. “Didn’t see anything more than that.”

  “Was he taller than you are? Bigger?”

  Garcia pursed his lips. “Uh, probably ‘bout Max’s height. You’re right at six foot, huh dude? But he looked strong. Was carryin’ that girl like it was nothing.”

  Milligan shrugged in a noncommittal fashion.

  He wanted to shake the kid. Didn’t he realize that a woman had died? That more lives were on the line here?

  The problem was that he probably didn’t care.

  “Is there anything you can remember? Even the smallest detail might help.”

  Milligan’s eyes darted back to the paused video game while his lips remained shut.

  Garcia tapped his foot on the worn carpet. “Uh, he seemed older.”

  “Are we talking your parents’ age? Grandparents?” If they hadn’t gotten a good look at him, how could they tell anything about his age?

  “Nah. Just older than us. And the girl.”

  “What made you think that?”

  Garcia rubbed his head, disheveling his already messy hair. “I dunno. The way he talked, I guess. Didn’t sound like he was one of us, right Max?”

  “Guess not.” Milligan’s tone indicated he couldn’t care less.

  “What did he say to you? Exact words, if you can remember.”

  “Uh…” Garcia’s forehead creased. “I think he said, ‘My girl can’t hold her liquor.’ And then, when I asked if he needed help with her, he said ‘Not my first rodeo.’ And ‘Our apartment’s up the street.’ I think.”

  Not exactly anything helpful.

  “Oh! And he called me kid. That’s why I thought he was older.” Garcia looked pretty proud of himself for that observation.

  And, as far as observations went, it wasn’t a bad one. “What about his voice? Was it rough? Deep? Anything that stands out about it?”

  Garcia shook his head. “Nah. It was normal.”

  “Did you notice him inside the bar?”

  Both guys shook their heads.

  He wasn’t too surprised. Everything they knew about their unsub indicated he would lay low, not be so bold as to watch his victim where someone might notice him. “Did he seem like he’d been drinking?”

  “Nope.” Garcia’s response was almost immediate. “Dude seemed sober. Walked and talked normal. I thought the chick must’ve called him to come pick her up ‘cause she was too wasted to make it home.”

  “Did you see her make that call?”

  “Nah. She took lotsa selfies, but that was about it. Least as far as I saw.”

  He knew analysts had already gone through the pictures on her phone from that night and were working to identify the people in the background. If someone had told him about any outgoing calls or texts, he’d missed that detail.

  He made a mental note to check on that first thing tomorrow. “So, you didn’t see the guy inside the bar. Was there anyone who seemed particularly interested in her?”

  It was always possible the unsub had been inside, but in disguise.

  “Dunno. Not like I watched her all night or nothing.”

  Milligan snorted. “You’re so full of it. You were hitting on her the whole time.”

  Blood flooded Garcia’s cheeks. “Was not! Besides, you were just as bad.”

  “Well, yeah. But did you see her body? Dang!”

  “Okay, okay.” Dak brought the conversation back on track. “So other than you, was anyone else interested in her?”

  “A couple other guys tried to talk to her, but she shut us all down pretty quick. She’d dance, but didn’t want to talk or drink with anyone.”

  “Yeah.” Milligan’s head bobbed. “Said she was only lookin’ to have a good time.”

  “And none of these guys was overly persistent?”

  “Nope. There were other chicks there.”

  He’d probably gotten about all he was going to get from these guys. Pulling a card from his pocket, he passed it to Garcia. “I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me. If you happen to think of anything else, please give me a call anytime.”

  “Yeah sure. Hope you guys get that dude.” Garcia looked at the card before setting it on the coffee table between a donut box and a half-full two liter of generic cola.

  That card would be lost before he left the neighborhood.

  He let himself out, the sounds of blaring music blasting the closed door behind him.

  Not as informative as he’d hoped, but it was another piece of the puzzle. He had an approximate height, as well as a vague guess as to the man’s age. The fact that the man hadn’t had any kind of accent or distinguishing speech characteristic should help with suspect elimination.

  All of that could be matched against the potential suspects Kevyn had identified at Nobles, as well as the suspects from the warehouses.

  He looked at his watch.

  Nearly four. Time to swing back by the hospital to check on Kevyn. Earlier he’d spoken with a supervisor and requested a more secure room for her. If the hospital hadn’t been able to deliver on his request, he’d be spending another night there, just to make sure the unsub didn’t try to finish what he started.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Kevyn closed her eyes and tried to quiet her mind.

  The thoughts wouldn’t be silenced.

  She’d been attacked. And she had no recollection of any of it.

  The churning in her stomach refused to settle.

  Nothing had happened to her. Nothing. She was fine.

  However, the knowledge of what could have happened was never far from her mind. What if the chef hadn’t heard her? What if the unsub had succeeded?

  Using herself as bait to draw him out had been her idea. She should be glad it had worked.

  Somehow being the victim wasn’t anything like she’d imagined.

  If only she could remember! Surely she’d seen his face. If she could remember, maybe it would make all this worth it.

  She knew how she would counsel someone in her position, how she had counseled people in her position, but applying it to herself was a completely different thing.

  A shoe scuffed the floor.

  Her heartrate sputtered and her eyelids flipped open.

  A doctor strode into the room, his bushy gray eyebrows curling into smiling brown eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  Instead of checking the machines, which would undoubtedly give him all the vitals he needed to know, he stopped beside the bed and focused on her.

  His kind attention reminded her of her grandfather. Some of the tension ebbed away.

  “I wish I could remember.”

  His gentle smile conveyed sympathy. “It might come back.”

  “In your experience, do most…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word victim. “…people recover their memory?”

  “Not often.”

  At least he didn’t offer artificial reassurances. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but she’d take a truthful response over false hope any day.

  “But some do.” He began a cursory exam, shining a light in her eyes. “You seem plucky enough that you might be one of the few.”

  Some might call that stubborn. She kind of liked plucky.

  He asked a few questions, checked a few things on the machine beside her bed, then continued on his rounds.

  Turning to stare out the window, she wished she could see through the darkness.

  It was awful how quickly night fell at this time of year.

  A throat cleared. She started, her hand smacking into the edge of the bed frame, and whipped her head toward the hall.

  Dak stood inside the doorway. A green reusable bag hung from his fisted hand.

  Forcing deep breaths, she managed a smile. No way w
ould she let him know how edgy she was right now.

  Although the way she’d jumped, there really was no hiding it.

  “I see they got you a new room.” Dak’s voice seemed loud.

  “Right by the nurses’ station. I’ll be lucky to get a drop of sleep tonight.” The unapologetic look on his face confirmed her suspicions. “And I have you to thank for that, don’t I?”

  He crossed and dropped into the chair beside her bed. “Guilty. I asked them to put you somewhere they could keep a close eye on you.”

  Why was she doing this? She didn’t have to stay. She could check herself out against doctor’s orders.

  The doctor’s warnings rang in her head. New drug. Unknown reactions. Fatal results.

  Fine. One night of poor sleep was a small price to pay to make sure she didn’t drop dead.

  “At least you can get some sleep tonight. Without putting a crick in your neck.”

  Dak didn’t deny it. “I gotta admit, that sounds pretty good.”

  “Thanks for keeping an eye out last night. I know I was out of it, but I appreciate it.” She still couldn’t believe he’d done that, especially for someone he barely knew. Was it because she was part of his team? Or was it the way he was?

  If she had to guess, she’d say maybe a little of both.

  “Gave me peace of mind.” He held up the bag. “Thought you might like some real food.”

  He pulled a few takeout containers from the bag.

  The smell of chicken teased her senses. After not eating much all day, she was suddenly famished. “Smells great.”

  “I thought mild might be best today so I picked up some roasted chicken, rice pilaf, and mixed veggies.”

  As the nausea continued to linger, that was probably a wise option. She’d better take it slow.

  Dak spread out the containers and dished a sampling onto a paper plate, which he set on the tray in front of her.

  She picked up a piece of chicken and shot him a sideways glance. “Better not let the nurses catch you with this.”

  Adding some food to his own plate, he sat back down. “I can take ‘em.”

  Yes, he probably could.

  She nibbled on a piece of chicken. The chicken was tender, with subtle spices, and tasted much better than the rubbery turkey and bland potatoes they’d brought her for lunch.

  After choking down lunch, she’d declined dinner.

  Now she was glad she had. “Thanks. This is exactly what I needed.”

  Dak nodded as he took a big bite of rice.

  While her vision had normalized sometime during the afternoon, her head still felt light. When would she be back to normal?

  She needed a distraction. “So, what does Thanksgiving at your house look like?”

  While she wasn’t sure if she’d show up, it would give her something else to think about now.

  “Dad always smokes a big turkey. We do a full spread. Mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet rolls, cranberry relish, green bean casserole, pie…mmm.” He grinned. “We usually play a rousing board game or two, maybe some basketball if the weather’s nice. I’m telling you, you don’t want to miss it.”

  Maybe she didn’t. It would be kind of nice to participate in a good American tradition, right?

  “The chef went to the PD this afternoon to work on the sketch. We should get it tomorrow.”

  The veggies turned to dust in her mouth. Kevyn forced herself to swallow. “Okay.”

  She wanted to see the sketch, but the idea of looking at an image of her attacker left her unsettled.

  What if she remembered it all?

  Or, worse yet, what if she didn’t?

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Quiet enveloped him like a peaceful blanket. Beside him, Ebony stirred before settling again, her breathing soft and even.

  Jax stared into the darkness, wishing sleep would come, but it was far from him.

  Yesterday’s failure haunted him.

  Failure was unacceptable. His father had taught him that. It was one of the few lessons of worth that his father had bothered to teach him.

  He replayed the details of the scuffle in the alley.

  She’d fought back surprisingly well. Especially for a woman.

  No doubt she’d had some self-defense training. If he’d had time to research that, he probably would have discovered that before he’d tried to take her and maybe things would have played out differently.

  What do to about it now?

  Ebony was right. They didn’t need her. Especially now that she’d proven to be unworthy.

  But she’d seen him.

  Sure, she’d had the drugs coursing through her blood at the time, but he distinctly remembered her gaze locking on him in the seconds before the drug took her down.

  How much had she seen? How much would she remember?

  Kexatreme was designed to induce amnesia, but he had heard stories.

  It didn’t always work. Sometimes the victims remembered everything. No one knew why. Maybe genetics, maybe because of past drug use, maybe sheer determination.

  Either way, could he take the chance that she’d be one of the few? That she’d remember enough to be able to identify him?

  Maybe he should get rid of her. Eliminate the risk altogether.

  The idea bounced around in his head.

  The tricky part now would be getting to her. The law would probably be watching her. Heck, they might’ve even locked her away somewhere. Witness protection or something. He wasn’t sure if she met the requirements for that, but if she did, it’d be impossible to get to her.

  Besides, she’d be more watchful now. And if she saw him, she might remember him.

  What to do?

  It was too bad, really. She’d been perfect.

  From out of town, no family, lonelier than most…

  Maybe too perfect.

  His breath froze.

  Could she have been a plant? It would sure explain how she’d fought back so well. She might even be an undercover cop for all he knew.

  Law enforcement was after him. They had to be.

  You didn’t abduct five people and kill two of them without catching the attention of the law.

  Assuming she was a cop, what really concerned him was that they’d figured out where he shopped for his family. If the last one had been planted by the law, and the more he thought about it the surer he became, what was to say they hadn’t planted others?

  Ebony was definitely right.

  Time to stop. They didn’t need anyone else, especially now that the police knew where to look for him.

  Sleep was miles away. Maybe playing out his frustrations would help.

  He slipped out of bed and pulled on some clothes.

  The piano was calling to him. He only hoped the music would calm his frayed mind.

  Fifteen

  “I can’t believe you didn’t call us.” Sid’s glare might have fooled most people, but Dak knew him too well.

  The team had just heard about the attack on Saturday and none of them looked happy.

  Nor should they. Not only had one of their own been injured, the unsub had gotten away.

  “You all needed down time. We’ve been pushing ourselves hard this past week.” Dak held up his hands apologetically. “Besides, there was nothing any of us could do.”

  Felicia shook her head slowly. “I feel like we should’ve been there for her. Supported her or something.”

  Dak refrained from saying he’d been there. “I suspect Kevyn wouldn’t have wanted all of us tripping over her.”

  “Probably right about that, bro.” JD laced his fingers together behind his neck. “None of us would like that very much.”

  “The good news is that she was discharged this morning.” Dak looked around the conference table, taking in each face. “She was planning to go home and clean up, get her mandatory psych eval in, then join up with us.”

  He prayed the psych eval went well. She’d seemed pretty shaken.

  With good
reason.

  “So, she doesn’t remember anything?” Felicia asked.

  “Not yet. But we have the sketch from the chef,” he tapped the printout in the middle of the table. “And we now know how he’s getting his victims. He targets them at Nobles, then drugs them with Kexatreme. I’ve asked Caiden to reach out to some of his buddies at Seattle PD vice to see if they can point us to a possible supplier.”

  He didn’t really expect that lead to pan out, though. Drugs were too widespread and too easy to get for them to be able to isolate the dealer right away. They’d probably need a sample of the drug, which might enable them to trace it back to a specific batch.

  Maybe.

  But it didn’t matter. The unsub had taken the syringe with him, so they didn’t have a sample.

  All they had was a vague sketch.

  He glanced at the image. It was a start, but it looked like any number of people. This alone certainly wouldn’t isolate their unsub.

  “Okay. Let’s pick back up where we left off on Friday. Sid, finish going through the suspects Kevyn gave us from Nobles. Felicia, keep digging on J.J. Trane and Jimmie Mays. JD, you’re with me. We’re going to pay Mays’ fish packing plant another visit and see if we can identify our mystery guy with the kid in Spokane.”

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Dak tried not to breathe too deeply as he and JD walked through the fish packing plant.

  Not many smells bothered him, but dang. How could anyone work here?

  The fishing industry brought a lot of money into the city, so he was glad these people were able to ignore the smell.

  The receptionist, a heavyset bottle-blonde wearing a good inch of makeup, led the way down a short hall. A wave of sweet perfume trailed her, the smell mingling with the fishy aroma. She probably wore it to keep from smelling like fish, but he doubted it worked.

  She showed them into Mays’ office, then walked away, her cloud of perfume following her.

  “Another visit?” Mays glanced at him before addressing JD. “Did I not answer all your questions the last time?”

  Not exactly hostile, but definitely not happy to see them.

  Interesting.

  JD glanced at him and Dak nodded. Since JD had already spoken with Mays, it might be best for him to take the lead.