The Fixer's Daughter

by Hy Conrad

  “No, it’s not that.”

  “Then why wait? Just text me your bank info and the money will be in your account – first, last and security. Then we can celebrate.” He reached over and pulled her in close. “I could really use some celebrating, if you know what I mean.”

  “You’ve been very patient,” she said in a flirty voice that she didn’t realize she had. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “I take it your roommate is in tonight?” he whispered in her ear. Callie nodded. “Damn, that girl needs to get out more.”

  They parted with a kiss, not as long or as passionate as their first, but definitely in the same ball park. Callie knew it would be their last. Between the alcohol and Will’s reluctance to talk about his life, she had managed to extract nothing new. So, unless she was serious about becoming a sugar baby…

  This time she didn’t get into the elevator. She found a corner of the chrome and leather lobby and punched in her brother’s number before she could change her mind. “State, don’t yell at me.” She tried not to slur her words.

  A TV was playing in the background. “Callie? Okay, but I reserve the right to yell at you later. What have you done?”

  “I have someone for you to interview. You’re much better at it than I am.”

  “Thank you. It’s my job. Now what am I going to yell at you about?”

  “I’m dating Briana’s second sugar daddy. Hold on, it’s not as bad as it sounds. Well, maybe it is.”

  “Mother of God.” She could hear the TV fade as State walked into another room. “Tell me.”

  Callie started to pace the open, airy lobby and tell the story from the beginning, how she had gotten into Briana’s laptop and recognized the wording from one of her sugar daddy contacts. “It was the same guy who contacted me, but with a different handle and photo.”

  “And you know he dated Briana?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Their communication went private. But the timing’s right. And he told me he had two dates with a girl and then she disappeared. Just like Briana disappeared.”

  “Callie!” He sounded just like their father. “What the hell are you doing dating a suspect?”

  “He’s not a suspect. Well, I guess it could go either way.”

  “Did you put out?”

  “What? Jeez.” She was incensed. “You don’t get to ask me that question. No.”

  “Good. Well, he’s definitely worth talking to. Do you have his contact information?”

  “Probably not his real information. He has this wife he needs to keep things from.”

  “Well, you need to stay in touch. Make plans to see him tomorrow.”

  “We more or less have plans,” Callie said. “He wants to rent an apartment for me. Well, technically, I’ll be renting it. He wants to put the money into my account. We haven’t settled on how much, but he seems pretty rich.”

  “Putting…” State paused. “Callie, how is he putting money into your account?”

  “Well, he asked me for my bank info, so…” It was her turn to pause. “Oh, shit!”

  “He asked for your account information.”

  Callie felt she had to sit down. “Shit. Is that all he needs?”

  “Well, he also needs your bank passcode.”

  “What are you, nuts? I’m not sending him my passcode.”

  “Maybe not. But you’re not a naïve twenty-one-year-old desperate for a sugar daddy.”

  “Like Briana,” Callie said, her voice flat.

  “Exactly like Briana,” State confirmed. “I’m betting your guy’s a scam artist. All this daddy stuff is just his way of stealing from young women.”

  “No,” Callie said but meant yes. She was both incensed and disappointed. Will, she suddenly knew, had never really been interested in her. That was the part that hurt. “I can’t believe it. He is so not the type.”

  “He sounds exactly the type. My guess is he’ll get you to text him your routing number and the passcode, and you’ll never hear from Mr. Sugar Daddy again. Remember Dylan Dane?”

  Callie had nearly forgotten. “You think he’s Dylan Dane? Do you have the surveillance photo from the bank?”

  “It’s on my phone,” said State. “Hold on. I’ll send it to you.”

  “If you’d given me the pic days ago when I asked you to, I wouldn’t be in this mess.” Her claim didn’t make sense, but she didn’t care.

  “Here it is,” he said. Two seconds later and her phone dinged with the text.

  Callie enlarged it as much as she could. It was what she’d expected: a high-angle shot over the teller’s window, black and white, grainy, showing a large man with a wide-brimmed trucker cap that shielded his eyes. The mustache was a distraction, as State had said. But there was something about his bearing – a tilt of the shoulders, the long angle at the nape of his neck. And then the hair, just visible enough, dark and curling over his ears.

  “It’s him,” she said, absolutely sure of it. “That bastard.”

  “What’s the matter? Your pride hurt? You thought you had this sugar baby soul connection? Is he cute? I bet you he’s cute.”

  “Shut up.”

  “A cute guy buys you dinner, pays some attention. That’s all it takes.”

  “Shut up. I have what’s left of Mom’s money in that account. Almost thirty thousand. Goddamn bastard.”

  “Okay, Cal, fun’s over. I’m sorry I teased you. Honestly.” State’s tone helped her to focus. “This guy of yours. Do you have anyway of ID-ing him?”

  “His name has to be fake. I’ll bet you he’s not even married.”

  “Ooh, the bastard.”

  “All I have is his cell number.”

  “That’s not going to help. Any pictures?”

  “No. I doubt he would’ve let me take any if I’d tried.”

  “How did he pay for dinner?” State asked.

  “He paid cash.”

  “Well, we can’t lose track of him. Can you get him to meet you again?”

  “We’re supposed to rent that apartment tomorrow.”

  “Well, that’s not going to happen.” Callie could make out some noise in the background. “It’s Callie,” he shouted. “Jeez, Yolanda, I’ll be back in a minute.” State reverted to his normal voice. “Sorry about that. She hates it when I interrupt her shows. Look, call this dirtbag in the morning. Or text him if you think you’ll be too nervous. Say you need to meet again.”

  “He’ll keep pushing for my account info.”

  “Well, if worse comes to worst, give it to him.”

  “What? Did you just say…? I’m not giving him thirty thousand.”

  “Hey, he won’t get away with it. He can transfer the money somewhere else, but If he wants it in cash, then he has to show up in person, like he did at Briana’s branch. We’ll alert your bank. They’ll keep track of it.”

  Callie got up again and continued pacing. The lobby was empty, illuminated as much by the moonlight as by the artfully placed table lamps. “You think he killed her, don’t you?”

  “It’s looking good, yes. The guy has a sugar daddy scam. He took Briana’s money. Those are our facts. I’m figuring she tracked him down. There could be dozens of other victims out there. He’d be facing serious jail time unless he got rid of her. The rape also makes sense in this context.” Callie didn’t answer, not that he’d asked her a question. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice was shaking. “I suppose I should be happy or relieved or something.”

  “But you’re nervous,” State said. “That’s because you just had a date with her killer and he’s still out there. Where are you now?”

  “I’m in the lobby of Briana’s building. It’s a long story.”

  “Well, get back home. Have you had a few drinks?”

  “No more than usual.” Well, a few more than usual.

  “Do you want me to pick you up?”

  “No, I’m fine. Really.”

  “Don’t call him tonight,
okay? You don’t want to spook him. Text him in the morning. Ask for a meeting. If he’s skittish, then apologize and send him your bank info. Don’t worry. You won’t lose it. Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

  “I’m fine,” she repeated. “Thanks, State. You’re a good brother.”

  “No problem. Drive safe.”

  Callie had found a parking spot directly across from the apartment building and once she got out of the University district, traffic was light. Sarah was still at the gatehouse, like a babysitter waiting for parents who’d stayed at party too long. “He had a good dinner, watched a little TV and went to bed,” Sarah said. “I checked on him just a minute ago. Sound asleep and snoring up a storm.”

  Callie thanked her profusely. She wanted to say that Sarah could come in late tomorrow but stopped herself. She had no idea what tomorrow’s schedule would be like.

  They said their goodbyes and Sarah drove off, leaving Callie to plop herself into the roomy armchair by the window, Buddy’s chair, open her laptop on the side table and play a few games. An hour or so of spider solitaire would help calm her down. After that would be her pill regimen and bedtime and the sleep that wouldn’t come. Not tonight. When a car pulled up a minute or later, she didn’t think twice. Sarah must have forgotten something.

  Callie was still in the armchair when the front door swung open.

  CHAPTER 26

  The man who called himself Will Peterson loomed in the open doorway. “What do you want from me?” His arms were straight down his sides, his fists balled.

  “What do I want from you?” Callie repeated before she could even process the moment. Her brain raced to fit the pieces together. “You saw me in the lobby, on my phone.” How ridiculously stupid of her, to be talking to State in full view of the street. “You saw that I was upset and you were curious. Maybe concerned. That’s understandable. Sweet of you. I guess you were in your car when you passed by and saw me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been able to follow me.”

  As she talked, a plausible story was forming. She, Heather, had been on the phone to a sick friend who was living here. Heather was worried enough to go visit her friend right away. If Will didn’t believe her, they could always tiptoe up the stairs and peek in on Buddy, her sick friend, now asleep. An uncle perhaps, not a friend. Yes, that would be better.

  “You’re Callie McFee,” Will said.

  “Um, excuse me?” How on earth could he have known? She was stunned. She was also grateful that she hadn’t blurted out her first story.

  He held up his phone and wagged it. “I Googled this location. Buddy McFee. It’s a famous house. Like something from Gone with the Wind.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean…”

  “A lot of articles came up. Your picture came up.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m not a twenty-one-year-old student.” Callie got up slowly from the armchair and pushed aside her laptop. “Sorry. And I don’t live in an apartment. I live here.” She didn’t start out being afraid, but now she was. She just couldn’t let it show.

  “You’re a TV reporter. That’s what they said.”

  “That’s an old article. But yes, I’m a reporter.” Another story was forming. “I’m doing a newspaper article on the sugar baby scene in Austin,” she explained. “My editor asked me to go undercover, to see firsthand how sugaring worked. He thought it would be a good angle.”

  “Good angle? What does that mean? You were just playing with me? Were you recording what I said?”

  “No, I promise you I wasn’t. No recording. No photos.”

  “Were you going to take my money?”

  Take your money? You bastard. You were trying to take mine. She tried to keep her thoughts out of her expression. “No. It was just the two dates. And I’m changing your name in the article. I was going to tell you tonight, but I had a little too much wine.”

  Will shook his head. “I knew something was up.”

  “Look, I can reimburse you for the dinners. My paper can. The Austin Free Press.”

  For the first time since walking in, Will unclenched his fists. The lines between his brows relaxed, and Callie noted how, with the slightest change, the same face that had seemed romantic and masculine could seem threatening and cold.

  “I can’t believe I invested all this time and energy. I mean, you seemed so perfect.”

  “You seem perfect, too. And I know you’re disappointed. I’m sorry.”

  “You can’t use my picture, or anything else that identifies me.”

  “Agreed.” Her goal now was to keep herself safe. “Will, it’s kind of late and I’ve had a few.” She made a guilty face. “Can we please meet tomorrow? I can buy you lunch and you can tell me about the experience from a daddy’s perspective, for the article. Again, no names or pictures or recordings.”

  Will hesitated. He rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure that’s something I want to do.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a waste of time. You wasted enough of my time.”

  “It’s lunch. You have to have lunch. I’ll meet you anywhere you like.” She softened her voice. “Your wife will never be able to identify you, I promise. We had two great dinners. I think people would want to hear your point of view.”

  “No. I have to think this over.” His hand went from his chin toward his jacket, as if reaching for his car keys.

  “Okay, think it over. I’ll call you in the morning.” But she knew it wouldn’t happen. Tomorrow’s lunch would never take place.

  Callie looked out one of the tall front windows. A gray, stylish sedan was parked right behind her truck. Maybe… As he walked out of the house, maybe she could turn on the front lights, a polite gesture, then take a photo of his license plate as he drove off. That would do it. Now where had she left her phone? Probably on the side table, beside her laptop.

  Will was standing by the side table, staring down at her laptop. “I’m sorry, Will, for misleading you, I am. If we had met under regular circumstances, just two people…”

  “What are you doing with her photo?” His voice was soft but intense.

  Callie knew immediately and her blood ran cold. It was that photo, stubbornly clinging to the lower right corner of her machine. Bri’s inspiration.

  “It’s Briana Crawley,” she said. Up until this moment, Callie hadn’t known for sure. But his reaction told her everything. She took a deep breath. “The girl you raped and murdered.”

  Will turned to face her, his body clenching again. “Who are you?”

  “Like I said, a reporter. I’m investigating her murder.”

  “Are you with the police? How did you find me?”

  “I’m not sure that’s important.”

  He repeated himself, shouting the words. “HOW DID YOU FIND ME?”

  “I didn’t find you,” she reminded him. “You found me.”

  “HOW?” he bellowed.

  She stumbled back, as if pushed. “I went on the website, putting myself in Bri’s situation. The phrases you used for her were the same ones you used for me. ‘Meet-and-eat.’ ‘High-end restaurant of my choosing’.”

  “Phrases, huh?” He winced. “I guess I was sloppy.”

  “And then there’s the security footage of Dylan Dane at her bank. I recognized your hair. Your neck. Your way of standing.”

  “You know about the bank?”

  “I do.” She didn’t know which would be better, to tell him that her brother the cop also knew, or to let him think that she’d been acting alone. “The police are…”

  “Callie!”

  It was Buddy’s voice, coming from the top of the stairs. He sounded half asleep but fully annoyed. “What the hell’s the racket? What’s wrong?”

  “Go back in your room and lock it,” she shouted. “Call 9-1-1. Home invasion.” And then a sharp pain shot through the left-rear part of her skull.

  CHAPTER 27

  Callie woke up slowly. At first, she thought she’d been unconscious for a split-second, just
long enough to fall to the floor, her face tilted sideways. A strangely mangled object, black, was in her direct line of vision and it took her several seconds to recognize it, her laptop, nearly broken at the hinges, the monitor twisted open. Something wet was streaming down her face and the back of her head. She assumed it was her own blood and decided against using her tongue to confirm this.

  Will, his shoulders and back looking huge in his blue blazer, was in a corner by the TV, busy with something. Callie wasn’t conscious enough to be afraid, just in pain and calmly fascinated. When Will finally stood and moved aside, she could see her father sprawled on the floor in his white, half-open bathrobe. His eyes were closed and there was a gash across his head, too, running from just above one eye up to his hairline. She focused and tried to see if he was moving. His hands were tied, she saw next, tightly bound across his stomach with the sash from the bathrobe. His feet were bound with something else. She instinctively knew this was good. Why was it good? Oh, yes. It meant he was alive. People don’t tie you up when you’re dead. She kept staring until everything faded once more to black.

  The next time she opened her eyes, Buddy was still there, still in the same position, still unmoving. She thought she could see his chest rise and fall, but she wasn’t sure.

  “I know you’re awake.” Callie didn’t respond. “If you don’t say something, I’m going to come over there and kick you in the ribs.”

  “I’m awake,” she managed to mumble.

  “Good. I just don’t want you to think you’re fooling me.”

  When she finally got up the strength to fight the pain and turn her head, she saw the man who called himself Will in the armchair, casually examining his phone. “Hello, sunshine,” he said. “Be with you in a sec. Just working out my plan.”

  “Plan for what? Escaping?” Callie didn’t feel like being antagonistic right now, but she had to stay on the offensive. It was a Buddy strategy. Always play strong. “You’re not very good at escaping. I managed to track you down. Bri managed to track you down.”