37

by David Achord

  “Is she a natural blonde?” she asked with a sly grin.

  “I have no idea and I don’t think I’m going to get the opportunity to find out.”

  “Pity,” Anna said. “I could see you two together, even though she’s a little young for you.”

  I scowled. “Too young? Maybe I should start hanging out in senior citizen centers to pick up women.” I was going for sarcasm, but I think she actually thought I was being serious. Then she giggled.

  “Make sure she’s drawing Social Security and she’s a VIP member with AARP.” She giggled harder this time.

  I shook my head in exasperation and finished my wine. My phone buzzed. It was a text message from Hope.

  Why don’t you come by the hospital tomorrow? Lorilee would like to meet and thank you.

  I did not hesitate in responding.

  Absolutely. Will you be there?

  Absolutely.

  I texted back that I’d see her in the morning and put a smiley face on the end.

  “What are you smiling at?” Anna asked. “Is new chick sexting you?”

  “Could be,” I said and gave her a wink.

  Chapter 35

  Hope texted me the room number, but as soon as I stepped off of the elevator, I was stopped by hospital security. I flashed him my temporary FBI credentials. He seemed satisfied and signed me in. When I walked into the room, Hope was sitting beside the bed with Lorilee.

  “Good morning, you two,” I said.

  “Well, speak of the devil. Your ears must be burning,” Hope said. “Lorilee, this is Thomas.”

  “The man who saved me,” she said. She was looking at me like a puppy dog looks at someone who is holding a handful of kibbles. Well, with one eye. The other eye was badly bruised and swollen shut. She looked like hell.

  I gave a friendly smile. “How are you, Lorilee?”

  “I hurt everywhere, but at least I didn’t get raped.”

  I wasn’t sure the proper response to that statement, so I gave an agreeable nod.

  “Agent Delmonico said there’s no way they would have killed Amber. Do you believe that too?”

  I glanced at Hope. “I do. I don’t know how much you’ve been told, but we’re certain they’ll keep her alive, which is good because it increases our chances of rescuing her.”

  Lorilee did not respond. Instead, a single tear fell down her cheek. She quickly rubbed it away with her good hand. I looked at Hope, who made a head gesture toward the door. She then gently rubbed Lorilee’s good hand. “Get some rest, honey. We’ll talk more later.”

  She waited until we were down the hall before speaking. “She’s relatively calm now, but that’s because she’s medicated.”

  “She’s worried about her child,” I surmised.

  “Yes, she is,” Hope agreed.

  “Can you give me a brief summary of how it happened?” I asked.

  “The gypsies had befriended her from the start, and she became infatuated with Wolf. He came over that night with a bottle of wine. Somehow, he had drugged her, because the next thing she knew, she was tied up and in the back seat of her truck going down the interstate.”

  “That’s when she attacked Tambourine Man,” I surmised.

  Hope nodded. “She managed to work the ropes loose and jumped on him. That’s what caused the wreck. Oh, I forgot to mention, she said her baby was not in the truck when she regained consciousness.”

  “The rescue squad people will want to know that,” I said.

  “Already taken care of.”

  “Good. Has she remembered anything else?” I asked.

  Hope shook her head. “Little things, like Wolf was wearing New Balance running shoes and black socks. Things that have no significance. Oh, she did confirm Peko had shaved his beard and hair. In fact, she was the one who did it. He paid her twenty dollars.”

  “Does she know the name of Guitar Man?” I asked.

  Hope shook her head. “They mostly spoke in their own language around her.”

  I nodded in understanding. It would’ve been foolish of them to freely talk about themselves around her.

  “You know, in some respects, they’re actions are professional, but in others, they’re on the amateurish side,” Hope said. “They’re making mistakes. It’s almost like they’re getting desperate for women.”

  “Like they have to meet a quota or something,” I said in agreement. “After the failed attempt in Nashville at the shopping mall, one would think they would have ghosted.”

  “Lorilee and her child were almost an afterthought,” Hope said.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “Lorilee is as homely as a pig in mud,” she said. “The little teenage goth girl, on the other hand, has model quality looks. I’m speculating on this, but I think they kidnap based on orders for a particular type of girl.” She gestured toward the room. “Lorilee, for example, big behind and big breasts. The girl in Nashville, pale, slender, young.”

  “That begs the question, orders from whom?”

  Hope avoided eye contact for a moment before fixing me with a hard stare. “You do not repeat what I say, alright?”

  I gave a slight nod.

  “Certain sheikhs in a certain Mideast oil-producing country,” she said. “At first, we thought it was Russia, but prostitutes are a dime a dozen there. They don’t need to outsource. The aristocracy in the Mideast have so much money from oil, they make cars out of solid gold, can you believe that? They’re the ones who buy these girls. We’ve only heard rumors about what they do to them, Thomas, and it’s horrible. Have you heard of hurt-core pornography?”

  “I’ve read a little bit about it, but I can’t say I have a good working knowledge.”

  “Hurt-core is a subculture of real sick people. It involves rape and other acts of degradation. The actor not only gratifies himself through the sexual aspect, but to also destroy the psyche of the victim. If they are rescued, they never recover. Suicide is common among the survivors.”

  “Sickos like that actually exist?” I asked and shook my head in disgust. “Never mind, it was a rhetorical question.”

  “We need them alive, Thomas. We need them to talk and tell us specifically who is buying these girls, where are they going, and how we can rescue these girls and dismantle the whole network.”

  “That sounds good, but in my humble opinion, they’re beyond your reach.”

  A look of irritation crossed her face, but then she emitted a long sigh. “Yeah, you’re probably right, but the command staff still want the names of those involved and as much evidence against them as we can obtain.”

  She was right, but I didn’t admit it.

  So, as I stood in the elevator a little closer to Hope than was necessary, I made the plunge.

  “I know you’ve been working nonstop, but, if you’re not too tired, do you think you’d be interested in going somewhere for dinner later?”

  Hope turned in surprise. “I’d love to. I mean, I have no idea what time I’ll be through for the day, but I’d love to.”

  “Good,” I said, and then on impulse I leaned forward and kissed her. She kissed me back.

  “I’ll text you and let you know when I can get away.”

  I nodded. And then the elevator door opened and suddenly it seemed a little awkward.

  “Alright, I’ll see you later,” I said. I got a grin from her before I walked off, which was nice.

  I texted Dresden when I got to my car.

  I’m going back to the river and have a look around.

  I expected him to call me and implore upon me the importance of reporting in to the incident command to await further instructions, but surprisingly, he texted me back a minute later.

  Copy that. Keep me posted.

  Traffic was light and I arrived back at the Red River forty minutes later. There were a few rescue squad vehicles parked on the shoulder. I parked fifty yards away and sat there, wondering what the hell I was going to do next. Lighting a fresh cigar, I g
ot out and approached a man who was sitting on an undamaged portion of the guardrail. He squinted up at me like I was some tourist inquiring about canoe rentals.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “How are you? I’m Thomas Ironcutter with the FBI. I’m just checking to see if there are any new developments.”

  He eyed me a moment before standing. “What kind of cigar are you smoking?”

  I held it out at eye level. “This, sir, is a Padron 1964, an extremely succulent blend. Goes great with coffee.”

  He eyed me a moment longer before reaching down into the side pocket of his cargo pants and pulling out a cigar tube.

  “I agree,” he said as he pulled a Padron out of the tube. “But I forgot my lighter.”

  “Not a problem,” I said and retrieved my butane lighter. “It’s got a punch on it.”

  He accepted it gratefully, punched the end with the little attachment, and lit up. “I’ve been jonesing all morning. Say you’re with the FBI?”

  “I’m a private contractor with them at the moment,” I said.

  He nodded like he understood. “Well, the short answer is, we haven’t found a thing.”

  I looked at him questioningly. He saw it.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “You guys received the word that the little kid is no longer believed to have been in the truck when it wrecked,” I tell him.

  He stared at me a moment. “Are you sure?”

  I pulled my phone out and called Dresden. After speaking to him a moment, I hung up.

  “Yep, I’m sure.”

  “When was that decision made?” he asked.

  “An hour or two ago.”

  He muttered a string of invectives under his breath before getting on his portable radio and telling everyone the information.

  “I guess there was a miscommunication,” I offered.

  He grunted, but after a moment of angrily smoking on his cigar, he seemed to settle down.

  “We were going to call it off after today anyway. Most of us are volunteers and have real jobs we need to get back to.”

  “I understand,” I said. We talked for several more minutes. His name was Jeb and he was a farmer by trade. He told me they had all of their boats in the water and even the State Troopers had their helicopter up in the air, although he understood now why he had not seen the helicopter in a while.

  “Do you have anything else you need to tell us?” he asked.

  I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic. I told him I did not, thanked him for his time, and went back to my SUV. I had the notion that I was going to walk around the riverbank and see if I could discover anything, but it was clear to me now it would be a waste of time. As much as I wanted to think otherwise, there was nothing I could do here.

  As I sat there wondering what to do next, it hit me. Maybe I missed it, but I was paying close attention during the briefing, so I did not think so. I called Dresden and got his voicemail. I hung up without leaving a message and tried Hope’s partner, Special Agent Carter Pike.

  “Hello, Thomas, what’s up with you?” he asked.

  “Listen, I’m up here at the Red River watching the rescue squad people do their thing and I’d like to ask a favor.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Is it possible I can take a look at the property and evidence reports from the rest area where Stainback and Candy were found?”

  There was a long pause before he answered. “I don’t see how that’d be a problem. What are you looking for?”

  I hesitated for a second. I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell him. Part of it was I did not want to appear silly, but part of it was I did not want to give away a lead. I decided for honesty. “During the briefing, nothing was said about Stainback’s burner phone. I was curious as to whether or not it was recovered.”

  “Interesting question,” he said. “I can already tell you that neither have been recovered.” He paused, then explained. “I was the one who was tasked with trying to locate them. I obtained court orders on the call history for both phones. Candy made a few calls to a number during the time frame, but it’s a burner phone that was bought at a store on Nolensville Pike. The prepaid hours have not been used, but there has been no activity on it since last Thursday.”

  “Has anyone gone to the phone store?” I asked.

  “Yeah, a couple of our agents did. They described it as a shady little operation. No video system and they preferred cash transactions. The store manager remembered the person who bought it though. He described Wolf to a tee. Said he bought four phones. Paid cash for all of them. He did not have the paperwork that gave us the numbers of the other three burner phones. Like I said, it’s a shady operation.”

  “Okay, Carter, thanks for your time,” I said.

  “If you come up with any other ideas, feel free to call,” he said before hanging up.

  I was out of ideas and out of cigars. Unlike what they show on TV, a detective’s work was filled with dead ends. Even so, it still frustrated the hell out of me. I glanced at my watch. I mentally ticked off at least a dozen things I needed to do before my dinner date. With no other ideas to pursue, I started up and headed home.

  Chapter 36

  I checked myself in the rearview mirror after I had parked. I was overdue for a haircut, but I was freshly shaven and felt I still looked respectable. I’d changed into a pair of slacks and a pressed button-down shirt for dinner. I’d made arrangements for her to meet me at an upscale restaurant located on West End Avenue. Hope was waiting for me in the lobby.

  “I have a bad habit of showing up early,” she said with a smile. I smiled back in appreciation. I hated it when people were not punctual.

  “I would have been here earlier, but there was a wreck on the interstate. Nashville traffic is like Atlanta these days.” I checked my watch. “I made reservations for seven. Let’s check in with the hostess.”

  We were seated immediately at a corner table looking out at West End. I looked out and absently frowned slightly.

  “What’s wrong?” Hope asked.

  “Oh, nothing. I just remember Nashville back in the day when there wasn’t continuous bumper-to-bumper traffic.”

  “The price of progress, right? Oh, I forgot to tell you, they found the RV.”

  My eyes lit up. “Really? Where?”

  “In Chicago. In fact, it was in the parking lot of the former Gypsy Dragon Tattoo Parlor. Unfortunately, it had been set on fire.”

  “Did the Chicago cops have anything interesting on the people who owned the tattoo parlor?”

  “Yes, a little. The entire family is named Gray, which they believe is an alias. They all emigrated from Romania and were suspected of running a heroin smuggling network out of the tattoo parlor. They had an undercover operative who made some controlled buys, but he disappeared a couple of months ago. The tattoo business shut down the same time he went missing and everyone disappeared except for the old woman. They said they interrogated her for hours, but she didn’t tell them anything.”

  “Was the operative a cop?” I asked. She shook her head.

  “Not here. He was a Romanian national who used to be a cop. He immigrated to America and got caught running his own little drug business. He had agreed to turn state’s evidence and work for them to build a case. The only good thing that came out of it is they recovered nearly eight kilos of heroin the day before he disappeared.”

  “Did they have any intel at all on Wolf and his merry band?” I asked.

  She paused with a forkful of food and peered at me. “Apparently, Lilith Gray was charged with murdering her stepfather when she was a young girl. Did you know about that?”

  “I learned about it eventually,” I answered evenly. “Due to the mitigating circumstances, she spent some time in a mental institution rather than prison.”

  “What mitigating circumstances?” she asked.

  “He was molesting her.”

  She looked surpr
ised. “Oh. Wow, they weren’t aware of that. The record had been sealed because of her age.”

  “Yeah. She had a rough childhood,” I said. “The things that happened to her when she was a child affected her the rest of her life.”

  “It happens. How was your childhood?” she asked.

  “Oh, it wasn’t all that good, but it could have been worse, I suppose. How about you?”

  Hope took a sip of her drink. “I had great parents. My father died of a heart attack when he was still relatively young, but my mother remarried a good man. He treated us like we were his kids and he adored mom.”

  She then finished her drink and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

  “I have something to tell you,” she said. “I’m leaving for Chicago in the morning.”

  “You are? Is this related to the case?” I asked.

  “Yes. We have agents from across the country going. We’re going to saturate the airports and the shipping docks.”

  “So, the command staff believes my theory,” I said.

  “Yes, they do. Reuben had a lot to do with that, and after the past two days, you’ve picked up a few supporters.”

  “I hope you’re one of them,” I said.

  “Oh, absolutely,” she said and patted me on the arm. “In spite of the circumstances, I’m glad we’ve met.”

  “How long will you be gone?” I asked.

  She shrugged and her features darkened slightly. “I’m uncertain. Probably until they are apprehended, but the Chicago office also has a couple of significant public corruption cases brewing. I’ve already been invited to transfer up there and take part in the investigations. Either of them has the potential of becoming really big.”

  “A career maker,” I said. She nodded. “Have you ever been to Chicago?” I asked.

  “I have not. Have you?”

  “Enough to know it’s different from Walker, Louisiana,” I said.

  She laughed lightly. “I’m sure it is, but I can handle it. Hell, I’m excited, Thomas. The entire reason I joined the FBI was to fight public corruption.”

  “Hmm, sounds like there’s a story behind that passion.”