by Kim Knight
“Fine, things have been a little rough, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m just happy that freak is behind bars where he belongs.”
“I hear that. You did good. It was so brave of you to put yourself out there like that. But please, don’t do it again. I don’t wanna lose you.”
“Lose me? Chris, that’s rich coming from you. You lost me when Stacey showed up, remember her?”
“She’s long gone. As soon as I met you, I knew my intentions were to get to know you. Like I said, when we went to find out about those girls, that was the day I wanted to talk to you about it. Sure, we’d only just met, but I knew what I wanted. Stacey would have been long gone once I knew how you felt.”
Madeline paused and considered what Chris said for moment. “Look, I’m not looking for any bullshit, okay. I’ve been there, done that, if you want—”
“No bullshit, I promise,” Chris’ voice came across the line with a layer of warmth that had a plea attached to it. “Let’s start again. A fresh slate. How about it, beautiful? Now that you know I’m not a serial killer.”
Madeline laughed. “All right, let’s try.”
“Thank God for that!” Chris sighed down the line.
“Chris.”
“What?”
“I mean it, don’t fuck me around. No bullshit. Got it?”
Chris laughed again. “Got it loud and clear.”
36
The Red Light Girls
Madeline Sloane
Two months later, in the fresh bitter air on Saturday morning, Madeline walked around Amsterdamse Bos. No longer fearful for her life, or any of the lives of the working girls around the city, she felt good.
The early morning winter sun had shown up. But it was still chilly. She wrapped a scarf around her tighter with one hand, and balanced her coffee in the other. She walked along in peace and took the time to appreciate the trees, grass, people exercising around her, and life in general.
A pond nearby had a few baby ducklings with their mother, crossing the length of the body of water.
Stopping, she sipped her drink and watched them paddle across in a single line. As she did, she thought about the recent events.
She had followed the coverage of Jonas Schmitdt’s case closely over a number of weeks, and she reported on the German serial killer with hard hitting journalistic news. As a result, the De Telegraaf newspaper’s sales peaked from her hard work.
Her reputation as a journalist grew, and so did her love for investigating unsolved mysteries. During the evenings, when she was alone, she had spent hours on the Internet searching for leads and information on cold cases. Often, she wrote about them in the new column the De Telegraaf newspaper had given her full creative control over.
The paper’s column was dedicated to appeals, reports, and information to help uncover mysteries that needed solving. The amazing thing for Madeline was the cases and reports were not limited to Amsterdam alone. She was able to pull up and report on cases of interest from across the globe.
In truth, the move from London to Amsterdam turned out to be the best move she’d ever made. So, she decided her stay would become a permanent one, especially since Chris had captured her heart.
It’s not as if I could leave him behind.
No longer fearful that he was a dangerous man, a heartbreaker, or a deadbeat cheat, she allowed herself to open up. And as a result, over the weeks since she and Chris had reconnected, he had treated her like a queen.
She had also moved from the deathtrap of a flat she rented under her ex-landlord’s watch into a new one bedroomed flat in Amsterdam Centraal in tiptop condition. Now, two months since her move, she felt better than ever about life and the direction it took her.
Once the ducks had made it to the other side, she continued her walk around the pond. The wind blew locks of curls from her face.
She pulled her beany hat down farther, so she wouldn’t lose it with another gust of wind.
Overhead, the trees rustled, and she decided to take a seat on a bench opposite the pond. As she did, the Saturday paper—held down by a flat, circular rock by its previous owner—caught her eye.
She picked it up and glanced at the headline.
German Red Light Girls Serial Killer Revokes Guilty Plea.
She opened up the paper, panicked, and began to read the article reported on by one of her rival media sources.
How the hell did they get this?
Her eyes roamed over the article, scanning it for the main details. It turned out, Detective Janssen and her team had carried out a detailed investigation and successfully linked Jonas to eighteen different murder cases, all women living in Amsterdam over a period of a year.
Good job, she thought to herself, then continued to read.
“Oh, my God.” Her attention moved to the next paragraph. “Some were sexually assaulted but survived, while others lost their lives,” she read out loud.
Tears stung eyes and cascaded down her cheeks.
The women who had been assaulted came forward after reading about the case in De Telegraaf. They gave evidence to help build a case against Jonas, which only demonstrated his predatory nature.
His employers were shocked, and totally unaware that he had escaped from Germany three years prior. And news that he had legally changed his name came as a shock to those who knew him, even more so to the people who hired him as a property manager. They fully co-operated with Janssen as part of the case building process.
“Thank God, he’s been caught.” She looked ahead of her and stared out at the empty pond in front of her.
Madeline placed her drink on the bench beside her and wiped her eyes.
Flipping the page, she continued to read and learned Jonas was now on suicide watch. He was held in remand and waiting for his court appearances.
He had revoked his original guilty plea, claiming that he ‘said no such thing, and insisted he hadn’t touched a hair on any woman’s head here—or in Germany.’
Thankfully, the evidence from the discussions with the criminal psychologist Dr. Fountz backed up his original admission to guilt, and his serious mental instability. That knowledge gave her a sense of satisfaction.
The article also confirmed that after just twenty minutes of deliberation, the jury had found Jonas guilty of the murders and kidnappings of the Red Light Girls, as well as guilty of multiple accounts of sexual assaults. DNA also linked him to the unsolved disappearances of women and girls in Berlin, Germany three years prior, which up until now, remained unsolved due to a lack of evidence.
Madeline had given a statement about her attack to help build the case against him but did not want to appear in court to face the monster.
Her gaze moved down to the bottom of the article.
“Under Dutch law, he was sentenced to life imprisonment for his premeditated and intentional crimes, which included kidnapping, sexual assault, and the gruesome murders of several women and girls across Amsterdam and Germany.”
Madeline smiled through her tears. She recalled researching the laws, and how they applied to his case during the time leading up to his trial.
Unlike the rest of Europe, the Netherlands is one of a few countries where life imprisonment sentences, do not allow parole at any point. A sweet smile played upon her lips.
Madeline lowered the paper and felt happier.
Jonas will live out his last days in a maximum-security prison in isolation. That was her only highlight from the news coverage.
She folded the paper and discarded it in the waste bin next to her, then sat for a moment.
Over the weeks, she had used Jonas and his employers as a case study to campaign for stricter regulations for property management applications made, and the recruitment process. She had highlighted, from her personal experience of crossing paths with Jonas and his instability, and argued how better checking and monitoring practices for sex offenders were needed in positions of authority that involved individuals having direct access
to residents. Not only facility managers, but for care home managers for the elderly and those vulnerable too.
Her fight was still ongoing. But it was a fight she’d continue, as well as digging deep into the cases of unsolved mysteries around the world.
One wave can make a difference in the fabric of life. With that comforting thought, she rose from the park bench and discarded her finished cup.
Tossing one end of the scarf over her left shoulder, she draped the garment over her chest, shoulders, and back. She shoved her hands into her pockets, then made her way through Amsterdamse Bos to the location where Suzy Chan’s body was found.
As she walked along, she pulled out the letter she had received from Mrs. Chan, thanking her for her persistence in finding out who was responsible for her daughter’s death.
Madeline kept it close to her at all times as a constant reminder of what ‘curiosity’ really could do—rather than kill the cat, it could nab the culprit.
She approached the large tree close to where Suzy was found, pulled a bundle of flowers out of her bag, then placed them under the tree.
Glancing around, all she saw were dog walkers, children running around, and people going about their daily business as if the location wasn’t the last place Suzy had been alive before Jonas had preyed upon her.
Swallowing hard, she fought back the tears and heartache. After a bit, she decided to make her way back home to her laptop, so she could carry out some additional research on a case she had discovered in Italy.
All most ten years ago to the date, a woman had gone missing without a trace in Milan. Not a sherd of evidence existed to suggest how or why.
“I’m on the case, and I won’t stop, Suzy,” whispered Madeline.
She would report on the situation uncovered in Italy in next week’s column of De Telegraaf.
I won’t stop because like your mother, her family needs answers, they all do, and I intend to dig them up.
THE END
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing The Red Light Girls. If you have time please do leave a review on Amazon. I appreciate you.
Sneak Peek of ’Til Death Do Us Part
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It's been twenty years. What really happened to Mariya Crosby the day she never made it home from work?
When a convicted murderer confesses to kidnapping a depressed wife, Mariya Crosby, twenty years ago, but be evidence in the present day clears him of the crime, who or what would you believe–the evidence or a convicted murderer on his death bed?
Detective Dominic Ruiz is under pressure to close-in on the truth, and fast. But there’s a problem, Ruiz has one confession, one witness, and one devoted husband with a different version of events in the lead-up to Mariya Crosby’s disappearance twenty years ago in Florida. The more Detective Ruiz follows up with the leads, the more things don’t add up. He has one of the biggest mysteries of his career to solve. The question has remained unanswered for twenty years. What really happened to Mariya Crosby on the day she never made it home from work?
Connect with Kim on Social Media:
Author Website: https://kimknightauthor.com/
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She’s also on Bookbub @KimKnight
1
The Confession
Detective Ruiz
Raiford, Florida State Prison
Valentine’s Day, Present Day…
“Detective Ruiz?” A uniformed female guard, holding a ring of keys, glanced his way.
“Yeah.” Dominic Ruiz flashed his ID badge, then tucked it away.
Reaching inside his pocket, he extracted a tissue to wipe his brow. The stuffy, uncomfortable feeling of his sharp suit and tie in the Florida heat, annoyed him.
I hate the ‘official detective’ look, he scoffed.
Most days, he preferred to rock dark denim, Nikes, and a fitted t-shirt to work. But as soon as he rolled out of bed this morning, the universe had other plans for him. A visit to the state’s maximum security prison unit was in order.
“Right this way, Detective.”
Ruiz glanced around the reception area of the prison one last time, then pocked his damp tissue.
“Thanks.” He crossed the threshold and made his way through the heavy steel gate.
“If you’ll follow me.” The guard ascended down the hallway, and he followed.
The sway of her high ponytail brushing against the waistband of her pants, pulled his gaze to her not so hidden arse under her baggy uniform.
Slightly smiling to himself, he held back a chuckle.
“We don’t get many visitors our way.” The guard looked over her shoulder. “Well, not from your office.”
Just in time, he fixed his expression back to a serious gaze. But to his surprise, she winked at him.
A blush moved from his neck up toward his golden, sun-kissed face. Ruiz shifted his gaze from the guard’s and focused on the job ahead.
As they made their way down the corridor, the only audible noise was the click-clack of the guard’s shoes and his against the cold, concrete, floor.
The guard stopped outside a steel door, then turned to Ruiz. “Here you go, Detective.”
Her gaze roamed over Ruiz’s form, taking him in from head to toe, then she leaned in close.
Ruiz ignored the flirtation, and rather than pandering to her, he lowered himself from his six-foot-two height, inspecting the room through the glass window.
He examined every inch of the room, from left to right, taking note of the unbreakable plexiglass that split the room in half.
To the left, on one side of the protective barrier, two guards stood in the corner behind the prisoner, who appeared to be in his sixties.
Ruiz studied the man’s close-cut salt and pepper hair, full beard, and calm demeanour. He sat patiently, his hands locked in a prayer position with his elbows on his knees. Hardened, unreadable eyes sat between well-defined eyebrows and high cheekbones. His pale, almost grey skin, from several weeks in solitary confinement, gave him a waxen appearance. And an unreadable expression sat on his face.
“He’s all ready for ya,” she said.
Glancing around the brightly lit room, his gaze finally came to rest on the man once more.
“Cool, thanks,” Ruiz responded. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Not a problem, Detective.” She placed a hand on the door handle, swung the heavy metal open, then offered him a final smile. “Let me know if ya need somethin’.”
“Will do.” He stepped into the room.
The heavy duty door closed behind him with a thud that echoed around the room.
Ruiz nodded at the guards on the other side of the glass, then focused on the man in front of him, locking eyes with him.
“Mr. Lee, I’m Detective Ruiz,” he announced after a beat.
“Detective, so nice of you to pay me a visit. I’d offer you a handshake, but ya know.” The man held up his wrists, and as he did, the chains clashed against the floor.
Ruiz took a deep breath and allowed the sarcasm to go over his head. He didn’t have time for it today, or any day, for that matter.
Coolly, he took a seat on his side of the protective glass, crossed one leg over his other knee, and met Mr. Lee’s intense gaze.
“I’m sure you’ve got better things to do, then bein’ here on Valentine’s Day an’ all.”
Ruiz exhaled a long, steady breath. “Mr. Lee, I was told you have some information for me about Mariya Crosby’s disappearance.”
“Yeah, Mariya.”
Ruiz watched with interest as Mr. Lee leaned back in the chair, the chains that bound him, crashed on the polished concrete floor around him.
Mr. Lee tapped his chin as if in thought. “Mariya…Hmm, yeah ‘bout twenty years back now. They say she never made it home.”
“Fro
m what we understand, yeah, that’s right,” said Ruiz. “What do you know about this?”
“She never made it homes ‘cos, I took her.” Mr. Lee chuckled.
Ruiz leaned in closer to the glass that separated them and tried to remain patient. “You took her,” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”
“Like I said”—Mr. Lee leaned in closer and matched Ruiz’s stance, as he did, the slack of the chains fell to the floor again with a ting. Ting. Ting—“I. Took. Her.”
“Is that so?” Ruiz held Mr. Lee’s empty gaze.
A shit eating grin split the man’s lips. “Yep, that’s right, I did.” He leaned back, chuckled, and mumbled to himself.
Ruiz took another deep breath and maintained a passive expression. “Mr. Lee.” He approached the glass. “Mariya Crosby went missing twenty years ago. Are you confessing to her kidnap?”
Mr. Lee cocked an eyebrow in Ruiz’s direction. “Yep.” He confirmed with a slow nod.
Leaning back on the chair, Ruiz re-crossed one leg over the other. He clasped his hands in his lap.
“So, what happened that day? What contact did you have with Mariya?”
“She clocked-out after her shift at the hospital. And let me tell ya, she wasn’t expecting me, but I sure did show up.” He winked. “I even asked her if we could talk a spell.”
The man paused a moment as if allowing Ruiz time to absorb the meaning of the words.
“Then we had a coffee and talked.”
“Where did you go?”
“My place, then we went for a walk, and the rest, well, she just wouldn’t listen.”
Ruiz swallowed hard.
“Go on.” Ruiz had him talking and didn’t want him to stop now.
“Well, I had to put an end to it.” Mr. Lee’s shoulders raised in a non-fussed shrug.
