Wild Killer

by Tripp Ellis

  "If I felt comfortable with the person, that wouldn't be a problem."

  "I like to live life on the edge, Melody. I like to find the limits. That's where all the fun is."

  Denise forced another smile. "I agree."

  “How are you with pain?”

  "Depends on what kind of pain we are talking about?"

  "I find a mixture of pleasure and pain can be exhilarating. The contrast heightens pleasure, don't you think?"

  "So you want me to inflict pain on you?"

  Declan chuckled. "No. I like to dispense pain. Again, I'm not talking about anything extreme.”

  “You mean, you wanna pinch my nipples and spank my ass?”

  “Maybe something a little more intense than that.”

  “You're not talking about drawing blood, or leaving permanent marks, are you?"

  “No. Nothing like that.” Declan paused. "I have to ask, are you a police officer, or in any way affiliated with law enforcement?"

  "Do I look like a cop?"

  Declan looked her up and down. "I can't say that you do. But the gentleman a few tables over, pretending not to be interested in our conversation, does."

  Denise swallowed hard. She glanced to me. Then dismissed the whole idea as preposterous. "Who, that guy?"

  Declan was spooked. He pushed away from the table. "Nice to meet you, Melody."

  His tone suggested that he didn't believe Melody was her name.

  I gritted my teeth and grumbled under my breath as Mr. Model strolled out of the bar. We didn't have anything on him. No fingerprints, and the name he gave was probably fake. I couldn't chase after him and leave Denise alone.

  Denise looked at me and shrugged. She had several more speed dates lined up. This was going to be a long evening.

  "That guy was a real freak show," JD said, his voice crackling in my ear.

  "You heard that?" I asked.

  "Clear as a bell. Hunter is a no go. He climbed into a cab and took off. We’ll have to run his first name and his prints against the database to see if we can get a hit."

  "I have a sneaking suspicion we are going to come up with a lot of suspects tonight, but nothing solid," I said.

  "Denise sure can bring the perverts out," JD said.

  "It's because I hang around you two so much," Denise grumbled.

  By 10 PM, we were all burned out. The bar was starting to get crowded, and it wasn't conducive to conversation. After the last suspect, the three of us left Beach Bums and headed over to Tide Pool for a change of scenery.

  The bar had an indoor and outdoor pool. Skimpy bikinis clung to hard bodies. Sometimes they didn't cling at all and ended up floating in the water. The music was chill, and caustics reflecting from the water danced on the ceiling. The place smelled like chlorine and whiskey.

  JD wanted to sit on the back patio and enjoy the view.

  There was plenty of eye candy for Denise to enjoy as well. Muscled men with beach bodies and washboard abs. It felt like spring break, and the bar served beer, mixed drinks, piña colada's, and various flavors of daiquiris.

  JD had a thing for the bartender, Harper, at the outside bar. She slung drinks from a tiki hut, and JD always tipped her well.

  I made it a habit to stay away from the fruity drinks. It could lead to wicked hangovers from all the sugar. Beer would do fine as we decompressed from the evening's interviews. We reclined on lounge chairs by the pool and watched the festivities.

  People frolicked in the water. Wet feet slapped against concrete as girls sauntered around the pool, mingling, sometimes falling in, sometimes getting pushed. It was hard to sit this close to the action and not get hit with an occasional spray of water.

  "We got so goddamn many suspects, I'm not sure what we're going to do with them all," JD said.

  "Who knew there were that many creepers out there?" Denise said, sipping her strawberry daiquiri.

  "And there are dozens more we didn't get to tonight,” I said. “I'm afraid we can’t do that every day.”

  "I feel dirty." Denise shivered. "I need to take a shower."

  "Let me know if you need a hand with that," Jack said.

  Her eyes narrowed at him. "Honestly, I don't know how much more of that I can do. It's draining."

  "At least you didn't have to sleep with any of them," JD said.

  "Can you imagine?" Denise said, thoroughly repulsed.

  "No," JD said.

  "What am I going to do when these guys figure out who I really am and they start stalking me in real life?"

  JD and I exchanged an uncertain glance. We didn't have an answer for that.

  "I mean, what if I happen to see one of them out casually? Like, when I'm going to the grocery store, or if I'm at a bar?"

  I started to feel guilty about letting her do this. "You have to maintain good situational awareness. I want you carrying a weapon wherever you go. I don't care if you're running out of the house for just five minutes. You need to be packing."

  "Trust me, I always carry," Denise said.

  "Better safe than sorry," I said.

  She slumped for a moment and sighed. "I guess I'm going to have to tell my dad I'm doing undercover work. I mean, what if his friend says he saw me on this website? Then I'm going to have some explaining to do."

  "I think your dad's friend would have some explaining to do if he said anything."

  Denise had a horrifying thought. "What if my dad uses that site?"

  JD and I exchanged another wary glance.

  "Nevermind. I don't even want to go there," Denise said.

  "I'm sure your dad is a fine, upstanding member of the community," I said, trying to reassure her.

  "I know. That's what freaks me out. If this job has taught me anything, it's the people that are the most buttoned up that have the most shady shit going on."

  "I thought we were coming here to decompress," JD said. "No more shop talk." Jack lifted his beer. "To clearing our minds."

  We clinked glasses and echoed the sentiment.

  JD leaned back and watched as slippery bodies bounced and jiggled.

  I leaned over and ribbed him a little bit. "Are you sure this isn’t going to be too much excitement for you? Can your heart handle it?"

  His eyes narrowed at me. "I'll handle it, or die trying."

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled out the device and looked at the screen. It was Reagan. I swiped the screen to answer it. "Hey, what's going on?"

  "Nothing," she said. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

  "Well, it's nice to hear your voice too."

  That drew JD's curious eyes.

  "I just wanted to see what time you thought you'd be home?” Reagan asked. “I'm here, all alone," she said in a breathy voice. "Naked."

  "That sounds interesting."

  "I thought, maybe, if you got home before too late, we might, you know, see if last night was a fluke?"

  I grinned. "It was no fluke."

  Both JD and Denise were on the edges of their seats. They leaned in, trying to listen to my conversation. I shooed them away.

  "We're just wrapping up a special operation and doing a post-op debrief. I should be back before too long."

  "Hurry home," Reagan said before she hung up the phone.

  I slipped the device back into my pocket and prepared for the onslaught.

  "And who was that?" Jack asked.

  "Reagan. She gets a little freaked out when she's by herself. She was just wanting to know when she should expect me."

  A wry grin curled on Jack's face. He could barely contain himself.

  Denise pretended not to be jealous.

  "Looks like you've got yourself a what time are you coming home girl?"

  I vehemently protested. "I do not have a what time are you coming home girl."

  "Excuse me? What did she just ask you?"

  I held my tongue for a moment. Then muttered, "What time are you coming home?"

  "Your Honor, I rest my case."

  "
It's not like that."

  "Oh, really? What's it like?" Denise asked.

  "Are you sleeping with her?" Jack asked.

  I hesitated. "Define sleep?"

  Denise rolled her eyes. "You've got a girlfriend."

  "I do not have a girlfriend."

  "You're sleeping with her,” Denise said. “She's calling you to find out what time you're coming home. And she lives on your boat."

  I shrugged, innocently. "It's not my boat."

  "She sure as hell ain't my girlfriend," Jack said.

  The two of them giggled at my expense.

  "There has been no discussion of formal terms," I said.

  "Give it time," Jack said.

  I scowled at him.

  "Hey, whatever floats your boat,” Jack said. “Find happiness where you can."

  There was a long moment of silence.

  I knew the grilling wasn't over yet.

  "Have you given any thought to what happens when this goes south?" JD asked. "I mean, first it was just a few days. That ended up being a few weeks. Now, she's a permanent resident. What are you going to do, kick her off the boat when you get bored?"

  "How do you know I'm going to get bored?"

  Jack scoffed. "I've known you for a long time. It's impossible for you to settle down."

  "You’re one to talk. You settled down six times."

  "Temporary insanity."

  "Six times?"

  "I'm a slow learner."

  “I'm just waiting for the right one," I said.

  "Is she the right one?" Denise asked. "Or is she Ms. Right Now?"

  "Hey, ease up guys… Putting the cart before the horse, don't you think?"

  Denise and JD laughed again.

  "It's so much fun watching you squirm," Denise said.

  I took a deep breath, exhaled, and sipped my beer.

  “Well, you’re gonna have to tell your roommate to find someplace else to stay tomorrow. We've got a charter.”

  “Really?”

  “I put it on the calendar. You should have gotten a notification."

  I shrugged. “Maybe I missed it? What are we doing?"

  “You’ll see,” JD said with a grin.

  I could only imagine what he had lined up for us.

  “Do we really need to keep doing charters?” I asked.

  "Well, you might be loaded from doing a movie deal, but some of us have kids to put through college.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I know you've got a pile of cash somewhere. Don't pretend to be broke."

  JD scowled at me.

  We sat there in silence for a moment, then my phone rang again. I pulled the phone from my pocket and looked at the screen. It was Reagan again.

  Denise and JD giggled.

  "You two shut up," I said before answering. "Hey, what's going on?" I asked Reagan.

  "He called," she said, her voice trembling.

  "Who?"

  "Mr. Sandcastle. Who do you think?"

  "When?"

  "Just now!"

  "I'll be right there."

  27

  The glass of whiskey shook as Reagan lifted it to her full lips. She sipped the amber liquid, set the glass on the counter, and poured herself another. She was self medicating in the salon of the Wild Tide when I arrived.

  "What did he say?" I asked.

  "Nothing I wanted to hear." She took another sip of whiskey. "He abducted another girl."

  My jaw clenched tight, and my hands balled into fists. "Has he killed her already?"

  "No. She’s still alive."

  "How do you know that?"

  Reagan looked at me with hollow eyes. "Because I heard her voice. She was terrified. Crying and screaming." Her eyes welled with tears. They soon overflowed and streamed down her cheeks, streaking her mascara. "It was horrible. It was the most gut-wrenching thing I've ever heard."

  She ran into my arms and squeezed me tight. In between jerking sobs, she said, "He tortured her while I was on the phone. I begged him not to harm her. To let her go. I think that only a egged him on. He’s sick. Twisted. He’s thoroughly enjoying this."

  Reagan sniffled and wiped her eyes.

  "Why did he call you?"

  "I don't know. To brag? I'm sure he doesn't have anyone he can talk to about this."

  "And now you're his new best friend."

  "I feel like I've invited a monster into my life."

  "You didn't invite him in."

  "Maybe not, but I sure as hell didn't have to open the door."

  "Did he say when he's going to kill her?"

  "No. He likes to play with his food before he eats." Reagan shivered with disgust.

  I pulled out my phone and called the sheriff's office. I spoke with Deputy Trammel. "Have you received any missing persons reports in the last 24 hours?"

  I heard his fingers clack against the keyboard. A moment later, he said, "Nope. Why? What's up?"

  "I think we've got another missing girl."

  He groaned. “Better let the sheriff know.”

  I hung up, called Sheriff Daniels, and filled him in on the situation.

  "And you’re sure about this?" Daniels asked.

  "Yeah."

  "Son-of-a-bitch," he grumbled. "Do we know anything about the girl? Was Reagan able to get a name?"

  "We’re you able to get a name?" I asked Reagan.

  “Her name is Heather.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Reagan shrugged. “That’s what he called her.”

  I relayed the information to the sheriff.

  "And your people can't trace this call?" Daniels asked.

  "I've tried."

  "With all your fancy connections, you're telling me you can't figure out where that bastard is calling from?"

  "My contact tells me he’s using an anonymous connection, probably from a mobile burner phone, then routing through multiple proxy servers, bouncing all across the globe. There's no way to track it. And even if you could, I can guarantee you will never be able to match that number to a person," I said. "I mean, that's how I’d do it."

  "Keep trying. Pull whatever favors you can." Daniels hung up.

  I called Isabella and asked her once again for help.

  "Look, I've tried," Isabella said. "This guy knows what he's doing. He's either extremely tech savvy, or he’s had experience in signals intelligence and knows how to avoid detection."

  I thought about what she said for a moment. It struck a chord with me. "So, this guy could be former military?"

  "Could be. Could be special ops."

  "Do you think you could come up with a list of all former special operator's and clandestine agents that fit the profile and may have a connection to Coconut Key?"

  "You mean, besides yourself?"

  "Yes," I said flatly. "Besides myself."

  "I'll see what I can do."

  I hung up the phone.

  "We've got to find that girl before he kills her?" Reagan said.

  I felt completely helpless. Somewhere out there was an innocent young girl going through the most horrific experience of her life. And there was nothing I could do about it.

  28

  I woke the next morning with Reagan's silky body draped across mine. I was getting used to this sort of thing.

  I peeled open my eyes, yawned, and stretched.

  "What time is it?" Reagan asked, her eyes still closed.

  "Time to get the show rolling. We have a charter this morning."

  "Aw, does that mean we don't have time for fun?"

  "No time for love today," I said.

  Reagan was headstrong and didn't take no for an answer. Her delicate fingertips traced their way down my rippled abs and grabbed hold of the throttle. My engine was already started, and she revved it up.

  "Are you sure we don't have time?" she asked in a sultry voice.

  Before I could answer, she had submerged below the covers and made a very persuasive oral argument.

  "I guess we might ha
ve time, if we make it quick," I said.

  We proceeded to rock the boat, and I'm sure it sent ripples through the entire marina.

  Somehow we managed to finish up, shower, get dressed, and make ourselves presentable by the time JD arrived.

  He wasn't alone either.

  I had stepped into the cockpit to drink my coffee and take in the morning air when I saw Jack parading five gorgeous women down the dock—all dressed in short-shorts and bikini tops. There were blondes, brunettes, redheads—all with svelte, toned bodies.

  Jack grinned from ear to ear.

  A nice camera with a large lens hung from a strap on his shoulder, and he had a collapsible reflector in his hand that was silver on one side and white on the other.

  It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on.

  There was another man with him, as well as a woman who rolled a case behind her. She must have been a make-up artist or a stylist.

  "Ladies, gentlemen," JD said. "Welcome aboard the Wild Tide.“

  He motioned for them to board the boat, and the entourage stepped into the cockpit.

  "This is my first mate and camera assistant, Tyson Wild," Jack said.

  I smiled and shook hands.

  JD introduced everyone. "This is Tristan. He is the owner of Coconut Cream Sunscreen. He’ll be our art director today. This is Misha, the make-up artist. And we have Holly, Chloe, Megan, Emily, and Quinn. Did I get that right?"

  The girls nodded with bright smiles.

  JD tapped his noggin with his index finger. "I still got it."

  "This is a really nice boat,” Tristan said.

  Tristan was tall, pale, and had strawberry blonde short hair. His round face was dotted with light freckles. He wore all black, which was a bad choice for a day in the sun.

  "Thank you," Jack replied. "We can shoot around the boat, and I have the perfect location for the beach shots."

  "Excellent," Tristan replied.

  Jack said, "Tristan wants to shoot a calendar to promote his sunscreen. These five lovely ladies will be doing two months each, and one group shot for Christmas."

  "You're missing a month," I said.

  They all looked at each other confused.

  I spelled it out for them. "Five girls times two is ten, plus a group shot—that's eleven. There are twelve months in the year."