by Stone, Mary
Certain this could only mean bad news, Ellie hurried up the walk and straight into the breakroom. If she was going to get a tongue-lashing this early in the morning, it wasn’t going to be on an empty stomach.
* * *
Once she had fortified herself with pastries and coffee, Ellie walked into Fortis’s office ready to defend herself against whatever had him twisted up so early. But the minute her eyes settled on the lanky man sitting in front of the desk, with well-worn cowboy boots and an easy smile, everything she’d prepared to say died on her lips.
“Agent Lockwood.” She stepped forward to offer him a handshake, trying to hide the pleasure the sight of him brought her. “What in the world are you doing here?”
Soft brown eyes crinkled at the corners when his palm touched hers, and his smile widened at her friendly greeting. Fortis looked from Agent Lockwood to Ellie and back again, head tilted in puzzlement.
“I guess you two are friends.” He kept his tone light, but he gave himself away that he was relieved by her reaction as his shoulders slumped and he leaned back.
She pulled her hand from Agent Lockwood’s, ignoring the heat that lingered. “We’ve met.”
Fortis gave a startled laugh and shook his head. “I just didn’t expect you to be happy to see him.”
“Making people feel at ease is part of my job,” Agent Lockwood explained before Ellie was forced to think of a response to her supervisor’s comment. “Detective Kline has proven herself more than capable, and I look forward to working with her.”
Fortis grumbled under his breath, and though Ellie couldn’t quite make out what he said, it sounded suspiciously like, “What the hell is going on here?”
Resisting the urge to laugh and argue with Lockwood that maybe she was just likeable, she gestured to the briefcase propped against his leg. “New case?”
“Cold case, actually. That’s why I’m here. I spoke with Fortis about getting your assistance with a local cold case that came across my desk Friday. He said that as long as you’re not too busy, I can get some help on this one.”
Fortis scowled and muttered again, drawing a grin from Agent Lockwood.
Ellie’s interest perked up even more. “How did a Charleston cold case end up in your office? I thought you were back in Dallas.”
Throwing his hands up, Fortis rolled his eyes, letting his hands slap on the desk. “I can see I’m not needed here. Kline, in lieu of forcing you into a partnership right now, I’m going to have you work with Agent Lockwood. Focus on this case he’s got and anything related to it.” He narrowed his eyes, regarding her over the rim of his glasses. “I know I don’t have to tell you to include Agent Lockwood in any outside interviews you do on this case.”
She nodded, pressing her lips together in an almost successful attempt to hide her amusement. She rarely got to see Fortis flustered and loved it.
“Great. I’m going to grab something from the breakroom since I also skipped breakfast this morning. If you need me, Kline, you have my cell. Agent Lockwood, go ahead and brief her, and head down to the evidence locker. We don’t have much on Charity Parker, but I remember her mother insisting she wasn’t a runaway anymore. Hopefully, we can get this one solved and bring that poor family some closure.”
Fortis, still muttering under his breath, closed the door behind him, leaving Agent Lockwood and Ellie in his office.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Should I ask what that was about?”
Ellie shook her head. “I’m not even sure. Tell me about this case. How did it end up on your radar?”
“My supervisor handed it off to me. It looks more like the work of a serial killer than human traffickers at this point, but you never know. Purchasing victims from trafficking websites on the dark web has proven to be an effective countermeasure.” He opened the file and began arranging crime scene photos on the round table in the corner of the office. “If we can’t use the victim’s abduction site to pinpoint a serial killer’s hunting ground, it’s that much harder to find a viable suspect.”
“Clever. Tucker Penland used that technique.”
“The Hunter of Bartlett Woods?”
Ellie cringed. “I hate that name. I don’t know why the media has to glorify these monsters.”
“That’s what they do. Tucker took it a step farther and discarded the bodies deep in the woods where scavengers would pick the bones clean. If you hadn’t caught the case, he might have gotten away with his crimes indefinitely.” He treated Ellie to a wide grin, his praise chipping away at the despair that had plagued her all weekend.
“What about this woman? Charity Parker, right?” She touched the edge of a teen’s photo with the tips of her fingers, careful not to leave prints inside the white border. “Aside from being in water and some puncture wounds, her body looks nearly intact. Is that normal for the desert?”
“She was dealt the killing blows before a flash flood, and her body was swept away in a dry wash when it filled with rain.”
“That’s awful. Was she alive when she was swept away?”
He nodded, his brown eyes revealing that Charity wasn’t just a file to him. “She was. The autopsy revealed that she’d inhaled a significant amount of water, as if she’d been partially submerged and breathing for quite some time after she was attacked.”
“That’s horrific.” Ellie made herself study the photos of what used to be a beautiful, vibrant young woman, her black curls wet and stuck to pasty skin.
“When I saw her family was connected to Charleston and still lived in the area, I gave Fortis a call.”
“I’m glad you did. He’s been on a mission to saddle me with a partner.”
“Ahh. He was shocked at your reaction.”
“I’ve been a little resistant to being teamed with anyone. I’m just glad it was you and not someone else.” Heat flushed up from her chest to her cheeks, and she hurried to explain. “I know it’s just for this case, but those guys out there don’t get me.” She flicked her eyes toward the wall of glass looking out into the bullpen.
“There are men who are intimidated by a strong woman. I’m not one of them. I’d rather you have my back than someone whose ego is so fragile a woman’s mere presence is emasculating.”
Ellie nearly choked on her laughter. “You won’t win any friends in that bunch calling it like it is.”
His laughter rumbled up from his chest, deep and warm, brown eyes dancing with amusement. “I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to solve cases.”
“So am I.”
“Good. Then let’s figure out who killed Charity Parker and give this young lady the justice she deserves.”
8
A real estate sign on the side of the highway marked the turn. If it hadn’t been for the red-lettered placard declaring the property Sold! Katarina would’ve missed the turnoff, even with her GPS.
Slowing just enough to take the corner with all four wheels of the Altima on the pavement, she slammed on the brakes and pointed toward the passenger window. “Hey you, grab that sign and toss it in the trunk. I don’t want any looky-loos driving down my road.”
Nodding, the man she’d started thinking of as Brutus, with his hair buzzed almost to his scalp and more muscles than will, lumbered his bulk out of the car, doing as she had ordered.
It was a plus that the man answered to “hey you,” because Katarina had promptly forgotten his name moments after he’d introduced himself. Not that his name was important. He was a brute of a man who took directions well and would do anything to earn her praise. He was all she needed in an assistant. At least, for now. Whether he lasted would depend largely on how well he served her. So far, so good.
Brutus. She snorted, deciding then and there to call the man by that name and no other. Brutus was fitting. He was a large man, with little more to offer the world than physical strength and medical knowledge.
Eager to please, she’d noticed his admiration of her right away, even as he’d focused on stitching up the master�
�s torn cheek from where the bitch, Ellie Kline, had nearly killed him. Blushing when she’d caught him staring, Brutus’s eyes darted nervously back to the master’s face. At first, his attention had been annoying. Soon though, Katarina realized she could use him, and there was nothing Katarina liked more than using a man.
Once Brutus had sewn up the master as best he could, which wasn’t great because the bastard needed a miracle, the master had boarded a private plane, fleeing the country for parts unknown. Since Detective Ellie Kline knew that Dr. Kingsley and the master were the same person, he couldn’t stay, not in his condition.
Katarina had pretended to care right until the plane disappeared over the horizon. Once it was gone, she’d turned to the large man with a smile and offered him more money than he’d been making operating on a suspended medical license, to be her personal assistant. Brutus had jumped at the chance.
The trunk of the car slammed, ripping Katarina from her musings and drawing a moan from the man lying face down across the back seat, arms tied behind his back.
Brutus opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, the small sedan lowering under his weight. “All done.” He rubbed his hands together to rid himself of the dirt the sold sign had accumulated.
“Great, Brutus. Check on Matt. He sounds like he’s waking up.”
She didn’t wait for a response before she hit the accelerator, wanting to put as much distance between them and the highway as possible while the road was clear. The fewer people to see them, the better.
Might as well take advantage of the tall grass growing over the gravel road; the easement was well-hidden. The beauty of the location was that even if someone happened down the drive, like her latest “investment,” everything would look legit at first glance. Like she really was fixing up the place.
“He’s still out.”
“Good. Keep an eye on him. I don’t want any trouble.”
Brutus let out a giggle, surprisingly high-pitched for a man his size. Katarina frowned, glancing at the chestnut-haired man slumped in the back seat, then at the big man at her side.
When their eyes met, Brutus turned red and clamped his lips together, cutting his laugh off mid-cackle. “Sorry. I just don’t know how he could be trouble when he’s tied like an animal and you zapped him three times with the stun gun already.”
“You’d be surprised what people can do when they’re scared enough.”
He nodded, the humor gone from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
“Just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
He submitted without question, bowing to her will as if he’d served her for years, not just a few weeks. “Yes, mistress.” He said it so much like Igor that she had to bite back her own cackle.
Something warm swelled in the pit of her stomach, but she mentally tamped it out. Katarina Volkov didn’t get attached to her underlings. She used them until they fulfilled her needs, then she cast them aside without so much as a “thank you.” If they were lucky, they lived to revel in memories of her.
Most of them didn’t live.
The overgrown gravel road took a sharp turn into the trees, shielding them from the highway. Though she hadn’t seen a vehicle for several miles, once they were out of the open, she let out a soft sigh. She’d chosen the property because of its proximity to the highway, while also being hidden from view. The perfect mix of accessible and remote.
Inhaling the sweetness of fresh-cut grass that creeped in through the car’s vents, Katarina followed the winding drive until it opened up to reveal ten cleared acres surrounded on all sides by trees. Piles of lawn clippings were scattered about, still bright green, so no more than a few hours old. Nice of the realtor, but cutting the grass didn’t really improve the looks of the place.
Katarina stared at the tan warehouse streaked with rust and gave a soft snort. “I guess I should be happy she had the grass cut before we got here.”
Brutus shrugged. “Beats the hell out of the filthy motel we stayed at last night. I wouldn’t mind sleeping out under the stars here.”
“Speak for yourself.” Katarina flung her elbow onto the center console, backing the red sedan into the three-sided carport close to the main building. “Though I’ve seen worse.”
“I’m sure you’ve seen better too.”
Ignoring his attempt at humor, Katarina pointed her thumb over her shoulder at truck driver in the back seat. “Get him first. I don’t need him waking up in the car while we’re setting up and trying to escape again.”
Brutus nodded, opening the back door and dragging the unconscious man across the seat by his ankles.
Katarina popped open the trunk and dug her bag out from under the realtor’s sign.
Brutus grunted, swearing as hard-soled work boots slapped the carport’s cement, drawing Katarina’s attention.
The trucker staggered from the car, pushing Brutus against the wall. Taking two steps toward her, the big man froze. Trapped between Katarina and Brutus, the car left no room for him to squeeze past either of them in the enclosed space.
Katarina arched a brow at him, shaking her head as she tsked. “You’re a real pain in my ass.”
Matt glared at her, hair that was just a little too long plastered to his head with sweat. The way it stuck up in some places made him look like a wild man. “Dammit. What do you want from me?”
“Make it four.”
Matt blinked in confusion, but Katarina wasn’t talking to him. Realization hit her prisoner suddenly, and his eyes widened, but he wasn’t fast enough. Before he could turn around to confront Brutus, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed. His head connected with the concrete, bouncing once before he came to a rest in a twisted heap between the Altima’s back tire and the carport wall.
Brutus grimaced, gritting his teeth. “I hated to do it. That was a pretty hard hit. He’s probably got a concussion.”
“Good. It’ll keep him from trying to run off. When you get him inside, tie him to something, and when you think he’s secure, add another rope. He’s starting to piss me off.”
Slinging the unconscious man over his shoulder, Brutus followed Katarina out of the carport, waiting patiently while she unlocked the door to the abandoned building that had once been a dog training and boarding facility.
The door stuck, despite the strong odor of fresh oil coming from the metal hinges. Using both hands, Katarina yanked on the doorknob, staggering backward when the door finally budged. A wall of stale air hit her full force, but she walked over the threshold without hesitation.
She’d run an auction out of one abandoned property or another. The only difference? This property was hers. It wouldn’t take long to air out, not that her guests would be in any shape to complain. She wasn’t running a boarding house; she was running a business. She would use her hired labor to get it shipshape and sell it for a profit once it was no longer useful.
Flipping on the light switch beside the door, the smile slid off Katarina’s face when the room flooded with a sickly yellow glow. They’d come in the back door, used to access the outdoor fenced exercise yards from the kennels directly inside.
The pictures of the abandoned building hadn’t been taken as recently as she’d thought when she scoped the place out online. The kennel runs, which were three feet wide and five feet deep, had once been shiny silver chain-link reinforced with steel rods buried in concrete. Now, they were dilapidated and could hardly contain a captured man, let alone the additional five she planned to add to her collection.
Jaw clenched, she walked the aisle, scanning the two rows of kennel runs that each backed up against a wall. There was a lot of work to be done before she was going to be able to hold a sale. Luckily, she had Brutus to do the heavy lifting for her, but the state of disrepair was more than she was ready for.
After a quick inspection, Katarina motioned to one of the kennels on her right. “This one is the best, but it’s still not secure. Even if you tie him up, I’m afr
aid he’ll try and escape again.”
“He’s unconscious.”
“He won’t be forever.”
Brutus set his bag down before shifting the prisoner from his shoulder to the concrete floor inside the kennel and rolling him onto his side. A quarter-sized spot of blood was already starting to dry near his hairline, at his temple, where his head had hit the concrete floor.
Brutus removed a long rope from the bag, tying the man’s legs together. Running the rope around one of the poles buried in the cement, he tied the other end to Lucky’s hands, which were still fastened behind his back. Even if he did wake up, trying to untie himself from behind would slow him down, if it didn’t stop him altogether.
Katarina nodded her approval. “That’ll do for now, but you’re going to have to come up with a long-term solution. You can’t watch him while you work. Drug him. Give him whatever it takes to keep him out for a few days at a time.”
Brutus balked, already shaking his head. “That’s not a good idea if he has a concussion. And I don’t have the equipment to monitor him like I would in a hospital. It’s better if we just keep him tied.”
Katarina closed the distance between her and her lacky with quick steps, pulling out the pistol she kept tucked in her waistband, and poking the barrel into the large man’s chest.
Despite being twice her size, he trembled beneath her touch.
Eyes narrowed, she conjured a feral grin to grace her lips. “I didn’t hire you for your looks, sweetie. You’re here to do a job. If you can’t do that job, you’re of no use to me.” She licked her lips, eyelids still narrowed, every movement slow and unhurried. “Do you have something that can knock him out for a few days at a time, or not?”
Brutus opened another bag, a hard-sided cube that unzipped on the top. Inside, five identical plastic cases with separate compartments were stacked on top of each other. He unpacked them one by one, setting them on a rickety table as he explained the contents.
“I have needles and syringes, plastic tubing, antibiotics and bandages.” He set the first two cases down, pointing to the third. “This one has naloxone for overdoses, thiopental, ketamine, and rohypnol. I can put him into a drug-induced coma, but that’s not without risks.”
