“Hello? Is this Mrs. Sylvia Wilcox?” The voice was high-pitched but masculine, and the caller had a slight lisp.
“Yes, this is Sylvia Wilcox.”
Silence.
“Are you there?” I asked.
“My name is Raymond Masters and I need to see you.”
Raymond Masters was Demario’s younger brother. I was stunned. Glancing at my cell phone, I saw that it was 6:30 a.m. I had overslept.
“Mr. Masters, I would be happy to meet with you. Tell me when and where.”
“I can meet you at your office in an hour.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be there in an hour,” he said, hanging up. No need for the address.
I jumped out of bed. My heart was racing. Perhaps the prison hit had some validity. Maybe Demario Masters had set up Liza and had her killed by one of the gang members on the outside.
After a quick shower and a cup of coffee, I rushed to the office. I wasn’t sure how Raymond had found me or why he had called, but I was eager to hear what he had to say. He arrived within the hour. I was standing at the door when he rang the bell.
“Hello, Mr. Masters. Thank you for coming,” I said, opening the door and holding out my hand.
A small, emaciated man wrapped his skeletal fingers around my hand and gave a weak squeeze. His face was aged beyond its years, but there were hints of how handsome he’d been. His eyebrows had been plucked and shaped, and a heavy layer of foundation was covering the cracks and wrinkles on his face.
“I had to come,” Raymond Masters said, stepping through the door with a feminine sway.
“Okay. I’m ready to hear whatever you have to say.” I led him to the comfortable chairs by the desk and motioned for him to sit down.
“I know what happened,” Raymond blurted out as soon as he sat down.
“Great. Tell me.”
“First, you gotta understand that my brother is crazy. He was abused as a child and he went on to abuse me and his daughter, and probably others.”
“What type of abuse are we talking about?”
Raymond’s almond-shaped eyes shifted to the floor. I nodded my head to show that I understood.
“I am sorry you had to go through that. Did you know Liza Abernathy or Madelyn Price?”
“Both. Liza was okay, just not too smart. Madelyn was smart and nice. I always felt sorry for her. We tried to warn Madelyn about Demario; she just didn’t listen. Before she could get away from him, she was pregnant. Her parents were married, and I think she was young enough to think that she was going to be able to marry Demario.
“Danica was tortured by my brother. She’s spent time in treatment centers and when she found out that her mother was living in luxury, she just exploded. At first, she wanted to get to know her and the other children, but Liza didn’t want that. She was okay with meeting Danica, but she wanted her to be a dirty little secret.”
That explained why Liza had been in Brightmoor: it was the only place she was willing to meet with Danica because no one she knew would be there. It was hard to imagine Danica as the killer, but the more I heard about how Liza had treated her, the more I felt like Danica was a likely suspect.
“Are you telling me that Danica killed Liza?”
Raymond looked down at his hands.
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you that she killed Liza?”
“I know she did this, and she’s not done. That’s why I’m here.”
“What do you mean, she’s not done?”
“Liza abandoned Danica, but not all by herself: Madelyn encouraged her. I tried to be a friend to both.”
A friend…The soft, scratchy voice from the phone call the night before had mentioned being a friend. Raymond Masters had been the prank caller.
“You think Danica is going to hurt Madelyn?”
There was logic to that assumption. Liza may not have abandoned Danica if she hadn’t been encouraged. Then again, if the situation was desperate, which it seemed to be, it was hard to judge Liza.
“I think you need to find her.”
The tricky thing about being a PI is that you can’t make an arrest. You investigate, and if you have solid evidence, you head to the police station. After you share your information with the officers, they decided whether you’ve done your job. The next step is the prosecutor’s office. By that time, your suspects may have skipped town. If Danica was Liza’s killer, I had to be careful how I approached her—before I took the information to the police.
“Mr. Masters, I am a private detective. I can’t do anything with this information until I have something definitive to take to the police. Why did you come to me instead of going to the police?”
He pondered the question for a few minutes, then reached a skeletal hand up to his temple. The interview was clearly draining his strength.
“Mrs. Wilcox, I used to live the same life that my brother and sisters did. I ran credit card scams, smoked dope, and prostituted myself. There was a time when I thought I was doing all of that because I liked it. Danica is seventeen years younger than I am. I’ve watched her grow up in the same dysfunctional way that I did. And I know that if she could do something different, she would, but it’s all she knows, and the police don’t always get that. I think you get that.”
It was strange. What had Raymond Masters heard about me?
“If she killed Liza, I want to see her do time for it. You understand that, right?”
“Yes, and I agree…that’s the right thing. Mrs. Wilcox, the doctors told me that I don’t have long. I waited until it was too late to go to the doctor and get started on the treatments. By the time I got tested, the HIV had turned into AIDS. Now, it won’t turn back. Before I die, I want to see as many of my nieces and nephews in as safe a place as possible. Alyssa’s mind ain’t right, so she can’t give them kids what they need—a chance. Danica needs to be away from all of that. If she gets locked up, she might get help, maybe even a high school diploma and college degree. If she stays on the streets, she gonna end up like the rest of us.”
I wondered why he thought Alyssa’s mind was not right. She was going to school to be a nurse and she was providing the best she could for her family. She was clearly one of the more stable members of the Masters clan, but there was no use telling that to her brother.
“That makes sense, but I can’t protect her from what the police might do. The best thing would be for her to turn herself in.”
“Yeah, but Demario is her father, and she knows that he would never want her to do that. She gonna run until you catch her. It’s gotta be you to catch her.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’ll hesitate to shoot. You a PI, so you gonna try to do things a different way because you have to.”
Raymond Masters knew how it worked. I was a citizen who happened to own guns, but the rights of law enforcement didn’t apply to me anymore. He was in my office telling me what his niece had done because I couldn’t shoot her unless it was absolutely necessary. Smart.
“Do you know where Danica is now?”
Raymond’s eyes filled with tears. He dropped his face into his hands and sobbed.
“I tried to stop her. I tried, but she wouldn’t listen. Said she had to finish it; said they deserved it.”
“What are you talking about? Mr. Masters, what did you try to stop her from doing?”
“She got a car…and some people from the hood. Went out to Ann Arbor late last night…”
I didn’t need to hear anything else. Danica had gone to Madelyn’s. I hoped I wasn’t too late.
“Mr. Masters, I have to ask you to leave,” I said, before typing out a text message to Martin and Charles: Meet me in Brightmoor ASAP!
“Please don’t hurt her. She’s just a kid and she’s been through so much,” Raymond begged as I ushered him out of the office.
“I will do what I can, but no promises.” I thought about the additional charges Danica was racking up. If she had taken Madelyn
from her home, she would have a kidnapping charge and, God forbid, an additional murder charge. She would be tried as an adult and her life would essentially be over. Of course, that wasn’t unfair if she had taken the lives of two women.
I locked up and rushed down the stairs. Charles called me back as I burst through the double doors and sprinted to the crosswalk.
“What’s up, Sylvia?”
“I need you. I think I’ve got a potential kidnapping on my hands.”
“Where?”
“It’s in your precinct. Brightmoor. That’s why I contacted you.”
“Okay. Tell me what happened.”
“Liza Stark’s daughter killed Liza, and she’s out to get revenge on the woman who encouraged her mother to abandon her. It’s a long story, but I think we’ve got something here. We need to get to Brightmoor ASAP.”
“Slow down, slow down. First, call the lady you think has been kidnapped. See if you can reach her.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right. Okay—calling now,” I said, just as the light changed and I charged across the street.
The moment I reached the other side, I pulled up Madelyn’s number and called. She answered on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Madelyn?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Sylvia Wilcox. Are you still at the safe house?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Have you heard from Danica Masters?”
Silence on the other end.
“Madelyn, this is important. Have you heard from her?”
“No. Why would I hear from her?”
Madelyn was safe. What if Raymond Masters had just told me a bunch of lies?
“Okay. Well, just call me back if anything out of the ordinary happens, okay?”
“Sure. I will do that. Thanks for checking on me.”
I slowed my pace and called Charles back.
“False alarm. It appears that I may have been played. Madelyn Price is at home and hasn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Dammit, Charles, my eyes are starting to cross on this thing. I need help.”
“Okay, relax. I’m free this afternoon. Meet me at Mickelson’s."
Chapter Seventeen
Mickelson’s was sparsely populated. The lunch rush consisted of a group of seniors at a back table chatting and laughing away the afternoon. The same girl I’d spoken to weeks before was working the counter. She took a second look at me when I walked in. There was recognition, but no desire to reminisce. I took a seat at one of the wooden two-tops and waited for Charles. He arrived about ten minutes later.
Charles looked exhausted and ruffled around the edges. His maroon tie was crooked, and his gray suit coat hung unevenly on his oversized arms.
“Long night?” I asked.
“Yeah. Things are kind of crazy at my place. My brother and his family ‘surprised’ me with a visit. They’re all staying at my place. Kids are great, but I’m glad I don’t have them.”
“Yet,” I said.
“Don’t jinx me!” Charles said, swinging his arm for a handshake. We sat and waited for the lady at the counter to come over and take our order. Two Famous Fish and Chips, water for me, and a Coke for Charles. After the order was taken, we got down to business.
“Okay. Tell me what I need to know.”
“The uncle says that the kid did it.”
“Do you believe him?”
“She has a good motive, knows the area well, and who else would Liza go to Brightmoor to meet?”
“The bosses didn’t want us doing too much with this case because of the people involved. The Starks are like royalty and the Abernathys are important too. They didn’t want to be investigated, but if we’d known about the kid…”
“The kid is a good angle, but she also had a motive to not kill Liza.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Someone sends money to whoever is caring for her; I’m guessing that someone was Liza. Now that she’s gone, the money might keep coming, but there is a chance it will stop. I don’t know how much, but life is hard for a kid in Brightmoor. Every dime helps.”
“So, the question is whether or not she was angry enough to not care about the money.”
“That’s one question, the other major question being: why did the uncle come to me? Why give me this information on his niece? Is it a set-up?”
It was strange that the police had not discovered that Liza had a child, but I knew how politics could shape an investigation.
“Outside forces can really mess up an investigation…Don’t think of it as a failure. Now we have something to go on. I just need your help bringing this kid in.”
“Okay, but we need evidence before I can step in. The chief doesn’t want us working anything that doesn’t add up.”
“Yeah, I think—” My phone began to vibrate on the table.
“Hello?”
“Kara is missing!”
It was Madelyn Price, sounding frantic.
“Slow down. Start from the beginning.”
“The school called. Kara hasn’t made it to any of her classes today. She’s missing! I think someone has her!”
“Okay. Calm down. Where are you?”
“On my way home! I have to find her!”
“I’m headed to your place, but I’m in Detroit, so it’ll take a while for me to get there.”
I hung up and filled Charles in on what was happening.
“Let’s get lunch packed up,” Charles said, catching my wrist as I stood to leave.
He headed to the counter and explained that we had to leave. Our food was delivered in white paper bags with grease stains on the bottom.
“Call me after you talk to her.”
“Will do,” I said, before getting into the Taurus and heading for I-96.
I drove five over the speed limit and arrived at Madelyn’s place thirty-five minutes after leaving Mickelson’s. I checked the property, making sure it was secure and free of intruders. Madelyn showed up about forty-five minutes later.
“Mrs. Wilcox, I don’t know where to look. Kara is such a good girl. She would never skip school. I just know someone has her!”
“Okay…think. When was the last time you spoke to Kara?”
“Last night. We talk every evening between six and seven.”
“Anything seem off? Did she say anything out of the ordinary?”
Madelyn stared at the floor for a few minutes before looking up.
“Come into my office.”
We headed to Madelyn’s office and sat down. She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a notepad.
“Obviously, I am always trying to make sure that my child doesn’t end up like I did. Last night everything was fine, but last week, Kara said something that…caused me to wonder.”
Madelyn pushed the notepad across the table. She had scrawled “The Spot?” on the notepad, along with “What does it mean?”
“Kara let it slip that she’d met a new friend. She wouldn’t tell me where she met her, but they both enjoyed playing virtual reality games. She mentioned that there was a new club for teens called “The Spot” and her new friend had invited her. I tried looking it up, but couldn’t find anything. I know Kara’s friends, so it struck me as strange. I asked more questions, but she buttoned up about things.”
Back when I was a cop, there was a place the kids in Brightmoor called The Spot. It was an old factory that had fallen into blight. The building was on the list for demolition, but the city had been slow about tearing it down. I hadn’t been there for years, but it was probably still standing.
“Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything else that stood out?”
“No. That was it.”
“Okay. I have an idea. I’ll be in touch.” I pushed the notepad back across the table and headed for the door.
“Mrs. Wilcox! Where are you going? What are you going to do?”
“Just stay here. Lock the door and keep the phone close,” I said, closing th
e door behind me.
I called Martin.
“Hey, what’s the next move?”
“I’m headed to Brightmoor. I’m going to text an address to you and Charles. Get there, but don’t engage until I call back.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve got a hunch.”
***
“The Spot” is a small structure that served as a store, café, and pawn shop in the years after the packing factory had ceased production. It sat on the edge of Rouge Park, not far from the Coney Island where I’d met Bunk. When I was a cop, it was an unofficial lover’s lane during the day, and a haven for rape and drug use at night. The bright street lamps of Rouge Park gave the Spot enough light for criminality without forcing assailants to provide additional illumination. I drove to a parking lot in the park, adjacent from the street where the old, rundown building sat.
I strapped one gun to my ankle and double-checked for the side-mounted Luger. Rouge Park was not a common destination for non-criminals, and the empty parking lot made the Spot the perfect place for a crime. I crept along the edge of the aluminum guardrail that separated the park from the former neighborhood. After climbing over the guardrail, I fought through overgrowth and litter, hoping that the crunch of leaves and greenery wasn’t as loud as it sounded to me. Inching up against the side of the building, I made sure that I wasn’t visible to anyone inside it. I placed my back against the mangled aluminum siding and listened. At first there was nothing, but then I heard the faint sound of a voice. I turned to face the empty window sill and saw Danica Masters standing in front of a young woman who was tied to a chair: Kara Price.
“So, you’re my sister?” Danica asked as she strolled over to Kara. “Did you know that your mom told my mom to abandon me? Not that I blame your mom, because my mother should have had more of a brain, but that’s neither here nor there. My father has told me about your mom—how she was so smart. How she fooled him into thinking that she and Liza were bitter enemies when they were actually running a business together.”
Kara looked up, confused.
“Oh, yes…You didn’t know? Yeah, our moms helped women leave their husbands and boyfriends and start new lives; it’s quite a thing. They have traveled all over the country together. Your mom is the real brains behind it, but my mother was the financial support. Surely your mom told you all of this? No? Well, there’s more. Our dad wanted to see you, and develop a relationship, but your mom prevented it. She didn’t want you to associate with me or our father. He’s languishing in jail, wondering how his eldest daughter is doing. Don’t worry, I filled him in, but don’t you think it’s a shame that a man has to wonder how his child is doing, simply because her mother is a stupid, selfish bitch?”
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