by Gerri Hill
“If you’re out?” Finn asked as she poured a little cognac into the glass. “Where do you go?”
The question was asked innocently enough, but yet there was an awkward pause before she answered.
“I…I don’t go out much. Ever, really.” She took the glass from Finn, daring to meet her eyes for a moment. They were alone. Should she bring up that night? Should they talk about it finally?
But Finn didn’t give her a chance. She lightly touched Rylee’s glass.
“Cheers.”
Rylee gave her a quick, relieved smile. “Cheers,” she returned before taking a sip. It was unexpectedly smooth. She nodded. “I like it.” She cleared her throat. “So, what did you tell Dee?”
Finn took a sip of her own drink, then shook her head. “Not much. I didn’t want to cause alarm.”
“You’re going to show her the files?”
“Yes.”
Rylee wasn’t sure why, but she moved closer to her. “Have you thought any more about it? The Petersons, I mean.”
“I think you’re right. There is no affair. His reason for hiring me was a ruse. I’m not sure the reason, though.” Finn met her gaze. “I wouldn’t have come to that conclusion without you, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not curious like you are. I don’t need to know the why of things. If you weren’t here, I would have followed Lori Peterson, I would have taken pictures, I would have done a little background on Carlos Hernandez but not much. Mr. Peterson didn’t ask for detailed info on the guy. Just like Daniel Frazier didn’t ask. They only wanted to know if their wife was having an affair and with whom.”
“When you researched Carlos Hernandez, you would have realized it didn’t make sense.”
“Make sense to who, though? Michael Drake threw up all sorts of red flags. But I didn’t care. Daniel Frazier wasn’t—”
“—paying you to care,” Rylee finished for her.
“Exactly.” Finn set her glass on the table. “I have a theory, some guesses as to what’s going on…and a whole lot of questions. But we’ll wait and talk about it when Dee gets here.” She looked at the watch on her wrist. “Which I hope is soon. It’s getting late.”
She’d no longer said the words when a beeping sounded in the kitchen. Rylee raised her eyebrows.
“Alarm. The gate opened. Dee has the code.”
“What other security features do you have?”
“Outside cameras. And I have a home security service that monitors the house. The same thing I had installed at the office last month. Why? Are you worried?”
Rylee shook her head. “If you’re not worried, I’m not.”
“Having a system like this sometimes gives one a false sense of security. So yeah, I’m still a little worried.”
Chapter Forty-One
Dee hadn’t known what to make of Finn’s request. Not really a request, she noted. Finn needed to see her. It was urgent. And oh, can you pick up the dinner I’ve already ordered? There’d been no mention of Rylee joining them, so she was quite surprised when the young blonde was the one to open the door to Finn’s house. If Rylee noticed the startled look on her face, she didn’t show it. Instead, Dee was greeted with a genuine smile, a smile that made her again take note of Rylee’s attractiveness. Damn…if Finn didn’t hurry up and ask her out, she had half a mind to.
“Detective Woodard—Dee—please come in,” Rylee offered as she held the door open. Her smile faded, though, as she looked past Dee. She then quickly closed and locked the door. “Here, let me help,” she said, taking one of the bags from Dee.
“Thanks.”
She followed Rylee, pausing in the living room as she spotted the cat sitting on the sill of one of the large windows facing the bay. The lights were on along the pier and there was a swirling fog over the water. The cat seemed fascinated by it. Why was Smokey here? For that matter, why was Rylee here?
She looked over toward the kitchen, past the bar separating it from the living room. Finn was there, watching her. She walked over, placing the bag she still held on the counter.
“What’s going on?”
“What makes you think something’s going on?”
“Because I’m a detective and I notice things.”
“Yeah. Well, we’ve got—”
“Let’s eat first,” Rylee interrupted.
Finn shook her head. “Rylee, we need—”
“—to eat. We didn’t have lunch and if I had to guess, you didn’t have breakfast either.” When Finn would have protested, Rylee held a hand up. “Don’t argue. If we talk first, we’ll never eat. Now…where are the plates?”
Finn sighed, then motioned with her head. “The cabinet there, closest to the fridge.”
To say that she was perplexed by their interaction was an understatement. The Finn she knew was too…too obstinate to take an order from someone. Too self-controlling, if that was even a word. She did what she wanted, when she wanted. To see her acquiesce now…well, what was going on?
“You want a drink?”
Dee turned to Finn and nodded. “I think I better.”
She followed Finn out to the living room and to the small bar, watching as she poured them each a scotch. She also noticed the glass Finn normally used at her office was now here.
“You move out of your office?” Finn looked at her quizzically and Dee motioned to the glass. “That…and the cat is here, not there.”
“This was my father’s,” she explained. “I…”
Finn looked past her to the kitchen. Dee turned too, seeing Rylee watching them as she brought plates out to the table. She took a sip of her scotch, noting that Finn’s eyes never left Rylee. Indeed…what was going on?
* * *
Conversation over dinner was either nonexistent or forced and Rylee finally threw up her hands…literally.
“Fine,” she said to Finn. “Tell her already.”
Dee looked up and Finn had just shoved a jumbo shrimp into her mouth. “Tell me what?” she asked, her curiosity having gotten the better of her.
Finn said nothing as she chewed. Rylee leaned her elbows on the table, moving a bit closer to Dee.
“We found it,” she said quietly.
Dee raised her eyebrows. “It?”
“Yes. It. The thing they were looking for.”
Dee’s eyes flew to Finn, who had finally swallowed and was taking a drink of water. “You found what they were looking for?”
Finn nodded. “Yes. Rylee found it. It was in the damn litter box, taped inside on the lid. A flash drive.”
Dee put her fork down, the fried snapper forgotten. “What the hell was it?”
“A list of names,” Rylee supplied. “And a debt ledger of some sort. And some account numbers. And photos. Sex photos. Disgusting, really.” She pointed at Dee’s plate. “Finish your fish first.” She looked over at Finn. “I knew this would happen.”
“Yes. Sorry.”
Dee ignored her plea to finish eating, shoving the plate away from her instead. “Names? Who?”
Finn, too, moved her plate to the middle of the table. “I think we’re in trouble, Dee. Powerful men. The mayor is on the list. The county judge. Businessmen. Councilmen Stevens is on there too. Ten total.”
“Rumor has it that Mayor O’Leary is going to run for state senate. Stevens is running for mayor.”
“They’re not the ones I’m worried about.”
“Who then?”
“John Mabanks.”
Dee couldn’t stop the startled gasp. “Oh, my God! Captain Mabanks?”
“Show her the files,” Rylee suggested. “I’ll clean up.”
Finn nodded and stood, motioning for Dee to follow. “Don’t put it in the fridge yet,” Finn told Rylee. “I’ll have some later. You were right. No breakfast or lunch.”
“I know. What am I going to do with you?”
The look they exchanged was…what? Intimate? Dee stood quietly, watching them, wondering if Fin
n had forgotten she was even there. It was almost as if Finn had to physically pull herself away from Rylee.
“We’ll…we’ll be in my office. It’s—”
“I’ll find you. Go on.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Finn stood behind her, watching as she scrolled through the photos one-by-one. They both gasped when the one of Captain Mabanks appeared. Dee quickly went on to the next one.
“I didn’t need to see that,” she murmured.
“What do you make of it?”
She clicked out of the file with the photos, pulling up the list of names again. “I agree with you. The photos are for leverage…blackmail, if need be. In each still, the face is clearly visible.”
“To what end, though?” Finn motioned to the laptop. “If we take this at face value, these guys pay for sex. Some obviously don’t pay and they have a debt. But as Rylee said, that’s a lot of money for sex. It has to be something else.”
“It could be a combination of things. Sex, drugs…what else?”
“Big debts like that? Gambling. It’s got to be.”
She nodded. “You suggested that at the beginning. The men on this list could certainly afford to be in a high-stakes game. All but Mabanks. How the hell did he get involved?”
“Someone he knew had to have recruited him. Judge Santos, maybe?”
“He lunches sometimes with O’Leary. I always assumed it was a business lunch. Maybe not. Only one way to find out, though. Ask him.”
“Oh, hell no,” Finn said quickly, holding up her hand. “You can’t let him know we have this.”
“I’ve got to. This is major evidence, Finn. These account numbers are probably where the money trail leads. The trail we’ve lost. He’s—”
“He’s involved, Dee. Until we find out what the hell is going on—and who’s behind it—we tell no one. Three people are dead, remember?”
Dee blew out a breath. This was evidence, sure. But evidence of what? Daniel Frazier wasn’t listed here. Neither was Michael Drake. On the surface, there was nothing about this flash drive that linked to the murders. On the surface. But Daniel Frazier had obviously hidden it. This was the thing the killers had been looking for. The debt, the photos…that was for leverage. The account numbers? That’s probably what was most important to them. The account numbers would lead to the money. And the money would lead to whoever was running this little operation. She took another deep breath. Finn was right, though. She couldn’t go waltzing into Captain Mabanks’s office with this. It would be too easy for him to bury it.
“Okay, Finn. It’s against my better judgment, but you’re right. But how do we find out what’s going on?”
Finn let out a relieved breath. “My specialty. Surveillance.”
“But Finn…there are ten names on this list.”
“And there are two of us. Three, counting Rylee.” Finn looked up, finding Rylee standing in the doorway. She motioned her inside. “Come in.” She turned back to Dee. “We start by doing background checks on everyone. We pick someone to start with and do surveillance. Where do they go? If it’s a brothel of some sort, where is it? A hotel? That’s unlikely.”
“Apartment complex,” Rylee suggested. “I’m talking your smaller, mom-and-pop type places. One with only a handful of rooms. Eight to ten.”
Dee nodded. “Makes sense. But most of these small complexes are rather rundown and are located, well, shall we say in the shady side of town.” She motioned to the list on the screen. “These guys, I can’t see them going to a place like that.”
“No. Especially the public figures. O’Leary? Judge Santos? They’d be recognized,” Finn said as she paced in front of the desk. “Where else?”
“How many women do you think there are? Two? Three? More?” Rylee asked as she sat down in the lone guest chair.
“Hard to say,” Dee said. “If these are the only clients—ten—then two, maybe three. The fewer women they have, the smaller place they’d need to operate.”
“The camera was pretty much focused on the men, but I’m sure we could determine a roundabout count,” Finn offered. “If it even matters.”
“True. If the gambling angle is correct, then that’s where they’re making the money, not sex for hire.”
“What kind of gambling?” Rylee asked. “Poker? Sports betting? What?”
“I’m picturing a high-stakes poker game,” Finn said, glancing at Dee. “I can see these guys sitting around a table, smoking cigars and slapping down poker chips.”
“For high-stakes poker, you’d need a secure place, certainly nothing public.”
“Someone’s home?”
Finn shook her head. “These guys are the players. Whoever started this, it’s not one of the names on this list.”
“Members,” Rylee corrected. “Not clients, not customers, but members. That suggests some sort of a club or something.”
“A secret club by invitation only?” Finn nodded. “I can see that. But who started it? And where do the girls come from? Who do they work for?”
Dee was surprised by Rylee’s astuteness. Perhaps because like Finn had said—she looked much younger than thirty—Dee hadn’t expected her to contribute.
“You’re good at this. Ex-cop?” she guessed, addressing Rylee.
“Who? Me?” Rylee smiled and shook her head. “No, sorry. Not a cop.”
Rylee didn’t elaborate and neither did Finn.
“How the hell did Daniel Frazier get mixed up in it? He’s not listed as one of the members,” Finn continued.
“Maybe he organized it from the beginning,” Dee offered. “After all, it’s his restaurants that are moving the money. This could very well be his gig.”
Finn leaned against the wall, her brow furrowed. “Then who killed him? If he started it and he’s making the money, who killed him?” Finn shook her head. “I know we’ve talked about it before, but I don’t see Daniel Frazier in this role. The whole setup seems too…too organized. You’ve got your fake vendors where you’re washing the money through…you’ve got prostitutes. There’s got to be a secure location for these members to meet. All of the logistics of this thing leads me to believe this is a professional operation. Not just a bunch of local guys getting together for a good time.”
Dee nodded. “I suppose. There’s also the question of where does Michael Drake fit in. Who hired him? If they knew Daniel Frazier had this information—and perhaps threatened to disclose it—why kill him without securing it first?”
“Maybe he didn’t give them a chance,” Rylee said. “He found out that Drake was sleeping with his wife. He confronts Drake. He may have even had a gun. Perhaps they didn’t intend to kill him, but Drake had no choice.”
“So with Frazier out of the way, the race was on to find this drive and the account numbers,” Dee agreed. “Whoever is in charge, I doubt they’d be concerned with this list of names getting out. I assume they’re only interested in the account numbers.”
“I agree.” Finn pushed off the wall. “A lot of these scenarios that we’re tossing out here make sense. Doesn’t make any of them true, though.” She pointed to the laptop. “We divide the names and do surveillance. We find a pattern, a common denominator, something.”
“Or their secret hideout,” Rylee said with a confident smile.
Dee nodded. “Divide it three ways?”
“No,” Finn said quickly. “Two.”
Dee glanced at Rylee. “But—”
“No. She’s inexperienced. She’ll ride with me.” Finn looked at Rylee. “Or she’ll stay here and do background checks.”
“I’d rather ride with you.”
Dee didn’t miss the look that passed between the two of them. What in the world was going on? “So you’re ditching the office?” she asked Finn.
“I think so. It’s safer here. Locked gate. No side streets. Nowhere for anyone to hide a vehicle and walk to the house.”
Dee had to agree. Moonlight Avenue was downright creepy. Dead-end stree
t, no lights, no traffic. Creepy at night, anyway. She turned her attention back to the list of names. Finn was right. The only way they would know what was going on would be to follow these men. The fact that some were high profile—county judge, the mayor, her own damn captain—was her only hesitation.
Well, that and the fact that she was withholding evidence in a murder investigation. She reminded herself that she was the one who followed the rules, followed protocol. Always. Finn? No. She was the rulebreaker. She’d admitted that herself. Dee hadn’t needed Captain Mabanks to reinforce that. Nonetheless, she was following Finn’s lead in this case. It was the only way.
If they uncovered something, though, where would she take it? Captain Mabanks was out of the question. Did she go over his head? Did she trust the young detectives he’d assigned to the case?
It was starting to make sense now. Was that why he’d pushed her aside? He didn’t want these murders solved?
“He wanted me out of the way,” she murmured. She looked up, meeting Finn’s gaze. “Mabanks. He wanted me off the case.”
“And now you know why.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Rylee sat at the table, across from Finn, watching as Finn nibbled on a cold piece of fish, her eyes fixed on the paper in her hand…the list of names Dee had printed out, their five highlighted in yellow. Smokey was perched on the counter, eyeing the fish. Finn had already tossed her off the table twice.
Dee had left a half hour ago after they’d finalized a plan. Rylee and Finn would run background checks on everyone on the list and provide addresses—both work and home—and photos. They’d agreed to focus their surveillance to after working hours, hoping to follow one of their targets to the “clubhouse”—her words, not Finn’s or Dee’s—before he went home to his wife and family. Dee was also going to keep an eye out on Mabanks, stating that he frequently took long lunch hours. By looking through the pictures, they’d determined there were at least three different women. It wouldn’t be shocking to find that some of the men used their lunch time for a quick hookup.
