by T. R. Ragan
Once they arrived, everything went quickly. After signing in, they were ushered down a long hallway. Surrounded by stark-white plaster walls and sanded cement floors, Sawyer stiffened at the sounds of alarms, yelling, and someone pounding on the wall.
Inside a ten-by-ten, windowless room, Brad Vicente sat at a rectangular metal table. He wore a state-issued T-shirt and jumper and no restraints.
Lexi pulled out a chair across from Vicente and took a seat. Sawyer did the same. Armed with paper and pen, Sawyer glanced at the tall security guard standing off to the side. His arms were crossed, and his gun holster was visible. His presence provided comfort, and yet the jittery feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t leave her.
She’d never interviewed a prisoner before. First time for everything. Sawyer looked across the table at Brad Vicente and said, “I’d like to start by thanking you for allowing us to talk to you.”
Brad Vicente looked like a regular guy, leaning toward handsome. His head had been shaved, leaving an outline of dark shadows where his hair had once been. His jaw, on the other hand, was bristling with new growth. His smile was disconcerting. The twinkling eyes and flash of straight teeth made her feel like prey. Or maybe nerves were simply getting the best of her. Forgetting her question, she looked back at her notes.
“I’ve been in business for many years,” he said as she flipped a page. “One of the things I learned early on was that getting right to the point of the matter is usually the best way to go.”
He was right. Sawyer raised her gaze to meet his. “Do you have any idea who cut off your penis?”
He smiled.
She waited.
His smile turned sour. “Don’t you think I would have told the world who did this to me if I had a name?”
“You were locked in your house with five women for days. You didn’t recognize any of their faces?”
“I was born a ladies’ man. They flock to me like bees to honey. I’ve been with a lot of women.” He laughed. “I was also blindfolded.”
“How many women have you been with?”
Lexi appeared to shift uncomfortably in her seat.
Brad Vicente lifted a shoulder. “Too many to count.”
“Whoever took a knife to you,” Sawyer said, “must have been angry. These women tied you up and then cut you. That makes what happened to you seem very personal. Don’t you think?”
“Women are overly sensitive. Maybe one of them didn’t like something I said in passing. Who knows? It’s not easy being a single man in today’s world. You have to buy a woman dinner and drinks just to get an opportunity to try and get to know them. Because of who I am, I’m able to get reservations at the best restaurants. Maybe I didn’t tell my date at the Blue Fox that she was hot enough. If you want to get anywhere with a woman, you have to dish out the compliments. It’s ridiculous.”
“Is that where you took your dates? The Blue Fox?”
He fidgeted in his seat, making Sawyer wonder if the question had made him nervous.
“No,” he said. “I don’t remember.”
It was clear by his sudden difficulty with keeping eye contact and the way his lips pursed that he was lying. She wanted to keep him talking, though, so she made a mental note to go to the Blue Fox and find out if anyone recognized his name or picture. “Do you ever go out with a woman more than once?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you usually have sex on the first date?”
Lexi coughed into a fisted hand.
Sawyer ignored her.
“Yes,” he said. “If the woman passes my tests, then we usually have sex. Why go on a date otherwise?”
“What sort of tests does she need to pass?”
He blew air out of the side of his mouth. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me.”
“Most importantly, she needs to be good looking. When we finally meet up, she better look like her picture.”
“Her picture?”
“Yes. The one she posted on the dating app. A lot of women post pictures from years earlier when their skin was as plump and firm as their breasts.”
Sawyer glanced at Lexi, but she was looking down, making notes. “So if your date looks like her picture, she passes the test? That’s it?”
“Not necessarily. If she’s a bitch, then it’s a no-go. Bossy or too abrupt would be a game changer.”
“Meaning you wouldn’t ask her to your place?”
“Exactly.”
“What dating app did you use?”
“Zoosk. Match. Tinder. Whatever’s out there.”
Sawyer jotted the names down. “I’ve read reports from two women who went out with you. They both had similar stories. You asked them to your house for a nightcap. They agreed. Both women began to feel woozy, as if they’d been drugged. As soon as they walked into your house, you locked the door and forced yourself on them, pushing one woman against the wall so hard she suffered a concussion.”
“Liars.” He jabbed a forefinger into the tabletop. “If they made it through dinner and came to my house, they wanted a piece of me. Every single one of them.”
He was upset, off balance, and she wanted to keep it that way. “Do you get along with your mother?”
His face reddened.
“I talked to your sister,” Sawyer said, on a roll now. “She said you’ve always been an angry man, distrusting and—”
He slapped both palms flat on the table in front of him. “I was framed. Her name was Li. And yes, we were at the Blue Fox. She was beautiful. Exotic. Long blonde hair. Find her fucking ass and take her and her friends down.” He stood. “This little party is over.”
“Why?”
“Because I was told this session would give me a chance to tell the world that I’ve been wrongly accused.”
“A jury found you guilty,” Sawyer stated matter-of-factly. “They have videos showing you raping multiple women.”
“Fake. Photoshopped. Someone is trying to frame me.” He held up a hand to inform security he was ready to go.
“We’re on your side,” Lexi cut in. “We want to expose these women in black wigs and see that they are punished for what they did to you.”
His jaw twitched. As he plopped back down into his chair, he kept his gaze on Lexi. “Go on.”
“I also talked to people who know you,” Lexi said. “A few close friends of yours, including Margo Kensington. She said the two of you once dated. She and others were adamant about you being wrongly accused.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Because it’s true.”
“Margo said you were always thoughtful and kind.”
He drew in a steady breath. “She was a sweet girl.”
Sawyer watched the exchange. Lexi kept her gaze directed at him the entire time.
Lexi angled her head. “The two words that came up the most to describe you were ‘compassionate’ and ‘generous.’”
“That’s right. I once stopped a dog from attacking a neighbor’s kid.” He pulled up the right sleeve of his jumper. “The animal bit me. Twenty-three stitches.” His chest puffed. “But the kid got away.” He laughed. “They called me a hero for months.”
“That’s what I mean,” Lexi said. “You’re smart, good looking, and you care about others, which is why none of this makes sense to me or the people who know you best.”
His eyes widened, and he leaned forward. “It’s refreshing to finally talk to someone who understands what’s happening here. I’ve been wrongly accused and nobody seems to care.”
“You have a lot of followers out there rooting for you,” Lexi told him, her voice soft and soothing. “People who care about you and who want to see you released.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“And that’s why we’re here.” Lexi placed her forearms on the table and leaned closer. “This is your chance to tell us, in your own words, what happened.”
“It was horrible,” he said. “A nightmare.” He raked his fingers over his head. �
�Imagine being in a room with five aggressive women, all wearing wigs and masks, stripping you naked, then tying you up with rope and duct tape. I was freaked out.”
“Did you recognize a voice, anything at all?”
“No. They all called each other by weird names, like Bug and Psycho.”
“Did they tell you why they were there?”
“That’s a good question, but no. They never did tell me why they came after me. I think they might have had me confused with someone else. They tore my house apart. I still don’t know what they were looking for.”
“Videos,” Sawyer said. Brad Vicente was full of shit, and she couldn’t take it anymore. “They were looking for video content you took of the women you bound and raped. That’s why you’re sitting here now.”
He angled his head back toward Sawyer and gave her a look that shouted psychopath—eyes wide, eyebrows elevated, nostrils flared. But the rest of his face was relaxed. A chill swept up her spine.
Facing Lexi again, he hooked a thumb like a hitchhiker at Sawyer and said, “I don’t think she’s on my side.”
“She’s on the same team,” Lexi said matter-of-factly, leaving no room for argument.
“Time to wrap it up,” the guard said.
Lexi nodded at the guard, then returned her attention to Brad. “You said the women wearing wigs used nicknames. Were there any other features that stood out to you?”
The guard approached the table.
Brad stood. His eyes flashed. “Tattoos,” he said. “I couldn’t see much through the blindfold, but every now and then I got a glimpse. One of the women had weird markings on her neck and arms. I thought they were tattoos, but they could have been birthmarks. Or maybe she’d been disfigured in a fire. Who knows?”
“Were all the wigs the same length as far as you could tell?” Sawyer asked.
He gestured to a spot just past his chin.
“Lipstick?”
He shook his head.
Lexi cut in. “If we need to talk to you again, would you be willing?”
His gaze roamed over Lexi. “I might talk to you again,” he said. “But not your friend.”
Sawyer mentally flipped him off as he was ushered out the door.
Lexi slipped her notepad and pen into her bag. As they strolled out of the room and back toward the front of the building, Lexi said, “Overall, I’d say that went well.”
Sawyer wasn’t so sure. Her adrenaline was at max speed. She felt riled up. “That was intense.”
“You did good. Now we just need to find Li on Tinder.”
Sawyer appreciated her kind words. She had interviewed a lot of people over the years. She knew that if she wanted someone to talk that she needed to make her subject feel at home. And yet the dirty, lying bastard had managed to strike a nerve. “When did you talk to Margo Kensington?”
“I called her yesterday. She told me that Brad Vicente was scum and to never call her again.”
“So you made up that whole story about talking to Margo and friends,” Sawyer stated rather than questioned. “And now he’s putty in your hands.”
Lexi smiled.
The sound of their footfalls slapping against the concrete floor was nearly drowned out by the sound of too many men crammed into not enough space. Sawyer and Lexi took turns signing out.
The air outside warmed the back of Sawyer’s neck. Her gaze immediately fixated on the car parked across the street from the prison. It was shiny, mint green, small, and hard to miss—the same car she’d seen at her house after Derek had dropped her off. She was about to mention it when the vehicle merged onto the road and drove off.
“Everything all right?” Lexi asked.
Sawyer didn’t say anything about the car since she didn’t want to come across as paranoid. Instead she said, “I was just thinking about Brad Vicente. He’s a narcissist and a liar,” she said as they walked. “I think I’ll leave the prison visits to you.”
“Perfect. Maybe next time I see him, he’ll propose.”
Sawyer looked at Lexi as if she’d lost her mind.
“That was a joke.”
“Ah. Funny. I guess we’re going to learn a lot about each other.”
“Not if I can help it,” Lexi said.
Sawyer laughed again before noticing the grim expression on Lexi’s face. Something told her the next few weeks were going to be anything but enjoyable.
After she was buckled up and Lexi was back on her phone, talking about a case unrelated to the Black Wigs, Sawyer texted Aria, telling her what Brad Vicente had said about one of the women who held him captive having scars or burns, which reminded Sawyer of Christina Farro. Perhaps it’s time I pay her another visit. She also told Aria about the exotic blonde-haired woman named Li, whom Brad Vicente had been matched with on one of the dating apps.
This Li could be the answer to all their questions. Too bad they didn’t have a surname.
Sawyer’s shoulders slumped. If Li was involved with the Black Wigs, there was no way she would have used her real name on a dating app. But still . . . if they could find the profile, it would be something.
And something was almost always better than nothing.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After checking in with the receptionist, Aria sat in a waiting area at the insurance company in Elk Grove where Nick Calderon used to work before he was killed, and she found herself thinking of Corey Moran, the nice man who had brought the dog to the shelter and then helped her and Tiffany deal with Nolan, the weirdo.
Enough of that, she thought as she flipped through the pages of a People magazine, hoping the receptionist would tell her Nick Calderon’s boss would talk to her. Her phone vibrated, letting her know she had an incoming text. It was an update from Sawyer, telling her about her visit with Brad Vicente and asking her to look into Li and Farro.
Aria was about to use her phone to search the internet and see what she could find on Li, if anything, when a young woman dressed in slacks and a blazer appeared and told her Mr. Panfili could see her, but he had only a few minutes.
When Aria entered Mr. Panfili’s office, he stood. He was at least six feet tall and had a receding hairline. He looked friendly, and she instantly felt at ease. His office was made up of floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a stunning view of downtown Sacramento. She leaned over his desk and shook his hand, then took a seat in a leather chair opposite him.
“You’re a reporter for the Sacramento Independent?” he asked after they were both sitting.
“I’m actually an assistant,” Aria told him. “I know you don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll get right to it.”
He nodded.
“Nick Calderon worked here for the past ten years, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
Aria wanted to sound professional. She thought about what Sawyer might say under these circumstances. “I’m sure you’ve already chatted with police detectives, and I know it can get redundant in cases like this, but—”
“Nobody has come to see me about Nick.”
That was surprising.
“I did hear through the grapevine that he was found on the floor inside his home,” he said. “Any possibility that he had a heart attack?”
“I’m afraid not. His death has been ruled a homicide. His ex-wife, Linda, said that Nick didn’t have many friends, if any, which is why I’m here. He does—or at least he used to—post on social media, but there wasn’t much to go on.”
Mr. Panfili lifted a finger to quiet her and then picked up his phone. “Hey, Adam, could you come to my office for a minute? Thank you.”
He hung up. “Adam Masters is the one you should be talking to.”
Before she could respond, there was a knock on Mr. Panfili’s office door.
“Adam, this is Aria from the Sacramento Independent. She was wondering if Nick Calderon had any friends.”
Aria noticed a look shared between them, a look she couldn’t decipher. But as soon as Adam opened his mouth, the mys
tery was solved.
“Should I tell her the truth?” Adam asked Mr. Panfili.
“Nothing but,” he answered, leaning back in his swivel chair.
Adam remained standing. “Nick Calderon was written up too many times to count. He has more complaints on record than every employee in this building put together. He was a troublemaker and a bully.”
Aria lifted an eyebrow. Adam didn’t beat around the bush. “And yet he wasn’t fired?”
Again, Adam exchanged a look with Mr. Panfili, who simply nodded as if to say, “Go ahead and tell her.”
“Let’s say we were in the process of doing just that.”
Aria let out a breath. Wow. “So it would be safe to say that Nick Calderon had few friends but plenty of enemies.”
“People who might even wish him dead?” Adam asked. “Unquestionably.”
Aria found his candor almost shocking, but still, yes, that’s exactly what she was looking for. “Can you give me any names?”
After a quick glance at his boss, Adam smiled and said, “I shouldn’t have been so flippant. It’s just that Nick tended to rub people the wrong way.”
When it became clear that no names would be forthcoming, Aria thanked both men for their time, and then Adam walked her out of Mr. Panfili’s office and to the main exit.
Aria was walking across the parking lot when she heard someone calling out to her.
“Miss! Miss!”
Aria stopped and turned around. The woman was short and overweight, and she was winded by the time she caught up to Aria. “I heard you were here asking about Nick Calderon.”
“That’s right.”
“Adam said he told you that Nick didn’t have any friends.”
Aria nodded.
“I thought I should tell you that he did have one friend.”
Aria perked up at that.
“Long story short, it was Nick’s birthday last month, and he made sure everyone knew it, telling everyone who passed by his desk that drinks were on him at a bar not too far from here. I knew nobody would go, and that made me sad.”
“So you joined him?” Aria asked.
She snorted. “Yep. Despite all the warnings, I went. Big mistake. I met Nick’s friend, Felix Iverson, and I wish I hadn’t. He was one of the most unsavory characters I’ve ever met, and that’s saying a lot.”
