by DeLeon, Jana
“You’re correct. If he wanted to, he could simplify things and end it all with one well-placed bullet. But I understand from Shaye that he’s already had the opportunity to finish this and hasn’t. That he’s taunting you.”
Nicolas nodded.
“Someone like that feeds off your fear. He won’t settle for anything less than looking you straight in the eye when he makes his move. For stalkers, it’s personal. He has an emotional investment in the outcome, and he wants more than your death. A bullet isn’t good enough. He’ll want to reveal himself before he finishes the job.”
“That’s a sobering and horrifying analysis.”
“It is. And it’s not mine. It’s Shaye’s. But I happen to agree with her.”
“So what do we do?”
“You go about your normal routine—as much as possible, anyway. I go with you as your medical aide. I was a field medic, by the way, so I have the experience and lingo to maintain cover.”
“That’s helpful.” Nicolas had to admit that he felt a little better about things knowing that Colby had actual medical experience. He didn’t want things to go south, but if something went wrong, then Colby would know how to handle it.
“The best possible scenario,” Colby said, “is that we go about the day as normal. Either I spot something unusual and it breaks the case, or Shaye tracks him down and it breaks the case.”
“And what about the worst possible scenario?”
“He gets desperate because my presence prevents him from moving forward with his original plans, and he makes a mistake.”
“A mistake meaning he tries to kill me without all the pomp and circumstance.”
Colby nodded. “And I’ll be right there to nail him.”
“Of course,” Nicolas said.
Colby was an impressive figure with an equally impressive skill set. And Nicolas knew Shaye wouldn’t have recommended him if she didn’t have absolute confidence in his abilities. But Colby was still a man. The stalker might not be able to settle for an impersonalized death for Nicolas, but that wouldn’t stop him from shooting Colby just to get him out of the way.
Shaye parked in front of the weekly rental motel where Crystal Walker and her missing friend, Sunny Trahan, stayed. It was typical of this type of business in a rough area of town—in desperate need of repair and with a collection of people loitering around on sidewalks and corners. Shaye knew exactly what the loitering was for. It was mostly young men now, which meant drugs. Once night hit, the working girls would join them.
She checked her pistol and climbed out of the completely average and nondescript car that Jackson kept for surveillance. It was smart because the people she was trailing didn’t notice it, and it wasn’t high on the list for car thieves, either. She was dressed in street clothes—jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes—but she wasn’t fooling anyone. They knew she didn’t belong here.
She hurried to the apartment and knocked on the door, hoping Crystal was home. She heard some movement inside and then the door opened a crack and a girl looked out at her. She held up her PI license.
“My name is Shaye Archer. I’m a private investigator. I hoped I could speak to you about Sunny.”
The girl studied her a second, then unlatched the chain and motioned for her to come in. She closed the door, drew the dead bolt, and re-hooked the chain as soon as Shaye was inside. The inside of the room was as rundown as the outside of the motel, but it was neatly kept. Two full-size beds were on one wall and they were both made up with colorful comforters that looked more like college dorm linens than that of adults. A couch separated the living area from a kitchenette. There was no clutter on the counter. No dirty dishes or food wrappers in sight.
Shaye turned her attention to Crystal and the first thing she noticed was her age. The cop had been right. There was no way this girl was eighteen, regardless of what her ID said. Shaye put her at sixteen at the most, and she struggled with the difficulty this girl faced living the way she did at such a young age. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, but it was for far too many young people.
“Are you with the police?” Crystal asked.
“No. I’m a private investigator.”
“Doesn’t someone have to pay you to investigate? Why are you asking about Sunny?”
Shaye had done nothing else on the drive over but consider how she was going to answer this exact question. She didn’t want to scare the girl half to death but by the same token, she didn’t want to gloss over the gravity of the situation.
“My client overheard someone saying he’d hurt a girl,” Shaye said. “My client couldn’t see the other man and didn’t recognize his voice, but your friend fits the description of the girl who might have been hurt.”
Crystal gave her a skeptical look. “So your client hears someone talking crazy and he hires you to find the guy? Is your client crazy too? Because in my experience, most people don’t concern themselves with things that don’t affect them, especially when it costs them.”
“My client is not crazy, but he’s got plenty of money and what he heard disturbed him greatly. He’s a sensitive sort of person and gives all his time to helping others. That’s really all I can say for confidentiality reasons. But rest assured, he’s a normal person with a legitimate concern.”
Crystal stared at her for a bit, then nodded. “I guess if I overheard something like that, it might freak me out too. I mean, not anymore but before. You hear a lot of crazy shit on the streets.”
She flopped down on the couch and waved a hand at Shaye to join her. “What do you need to know?”
Shaye sat in a chair near Crystal. “I need to know about Sunny—about her normal routine. The places she went, the people she interacted with.”
“You think someone took her on purpose? It wasn’t just random?”
“That’s what I’m trying to determine. Anything you can tell me about her everyday life will help.”
“That’s easy enough. We don’t have the money to do much. We work the south corner.”
“Do you bring customers back here?”
“Customers…that’s funny. Bunch of dirty old men, mostly. And usually married. But no, we don’t ever bring anyone here. We agreed on that from the beginning. If they want the whole pretend thing, they can rent a room. But mostly, it’s just cars.”
Shaye had been afraid of that. It was common but so dangerous, as it was easier to attack or drug someone in an enclosed space without other people seeing or hearing. Then it was a simple matter of driving off. Depending on where and how they dumped the body, it might never be found.
“You were working the night she disappeared?”
Crystal nodded. “It was close to midnight. One of my regulars showed up. He’s a room guy and usually springs for a whole hour, so I was gone for a bit. When I got back, Sunny wasn’t there but that’s not unusual. We were working, you know? When she didn’t come back within an hour, I called her but her phone went straight to voice mail.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Yeah. She usually just puts it on silent.”
“Was anyone else around who might have seen her?”
“I asked and one of the guys who sells pot on the corner said he thought she got into a car, but he couldn’t tell me what kind or what time, much less who was driving. Dude’s always high, so I can’t even be sure he saw Crystal at all.”
“No one else saw anything?”
“If they did, they’re not saying. People don’t like to talk much, you know? If you get a reputation for talking about the business that comes to your area, those ‘customers’ tend to relocate. It’s not the sort of thing they want other people to find out about.”
“No. I guess it’s not.”
“But Sunny and I had that tracker thing set up on our phones. We thought it would be a good idea given what we were doing. But it showed her phone off-line and her last location was here. It’s never showed since. I’ve called and checked day and night, usually every hour or so.”
“I’m so sorry,” Shaye said.
Crystal rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and sniffed. “It sucks. I know something bad happened because Sunny would have never taken off. Not without telling me. We made promises, you know? And I know that she’s probably dead and that if I keep doing this, the same thing will happen to me. But at least here I’m getting paid for it. At home, my stepfather was taking it for free.”
“What about your mother?”
Crystal sneered. “That worthless bitch? As long as it kept him from beating her, she didn’t care what he did.”
Shaye’s stomach clenched and she pulled a card from her wallet, then passed it to Crystal. “This information is for my mother. She’s building a huge facility to help house and protect minors who are living on the street. Everything is not yet in place, but it will be soon. In the meantime, I want you to contact her.”
Crystal’s eyes widened. “No. I can’t tell anyone the truth. They’ll send me back home. I’d rather die than be there.”
“They won’t send you home,” Shaye assured her. “My mother has attorneys on staff who will file protective orders on your behalf. There will be an investigation, but you won’t be forced to return to a home where you’re being abused. Please contact her. She’s helped out so many kids. She’s dedicated her life to it, in fact.”
“I’ll think about it.” She looked down at the floor, then back up at Shaye. “So do you think the guy your client overheard is the one who took Sunny?”
“I don’t know. When you weren’t working, did you frequent any restaurants or bars? Any place that someone might have zoned in on you and seen you more than once?”
“We buy groceries at the mini-mart two blocks down. We don’t have the money for restaurants, and the bars hassle us. They don’t like our kind in there taking business away from their own girls.”
Shaye nodded. She already knew that some of the less reputable establishments had their own girls on payroll, so to speak.
“Sometimes we’d get coffee and muffins at the corner bakery,” Crystal said. “But maybe only once a week and not at the same time or same day. It was usually just when we’d had a really rough night and had a little extra.”
“Is there anyone you noticed hanging around? Any customers that gave you a bad feeling—I mean, beyond the usual.”
Crystal shrugged. “There’s always people hanging around but we know them all. I don’t think anybody around here is a stellar citizen or anything, but I can’t see them hurting Sunny, either. There’s been a couple customers that got too strange, but all the girls started turning them down and they moved on. I haven’t seen any of the weird ones in months.”
Shaye put her card on the coffee table. “This is my cell phone. If you think of anything or see anything that might help, call me. Day or night. It doesn’t matter. And please think about calling my mother. She can help you.”
The tiny flicker of hope in Crystal’s expression broke Shaye’s heart. It was so hard to trust when you’d been living in hell. So hard to believe that anyone else could have your best interests at heart. Shaye knew exactly how she felt. But Corrine had saved her life. She was going to save others.
20
Jackson lowered his binoculars and called Grayson on his cell phone. “I hope we’re not wasting our time here. He hasn’t shown any sign of leaving.”
They’d been watching Michael Pitre since he left for work that morning. So far, it had been uneventful. He’d driven straight from home to the office and hadn’t left the building. It must be a day for phone calls and paperwork and not direct customer interaction. Jackson was watching the front of the building and Grayson was watching the rear where Pitre’s car was parked.
“It’s almost one,” Grayson said. “If he doesn’t head out for lunch soon, we’ll cut out and get a unit to cover him this evening.”
Jackson put his cell phone down on the seat of his truck and blew out a breath. He was beyond frustrated. They were making no headway on this case and any thoughts of locating Hailey alive were fading. Hailey’s father had all the makings of a great suspect but without evidence, they had nothing. Jackson didn’t figure Pitre for much of a tough guy, but they needed something to break him with. If they could find something, anything, to pressure him with, Jackson thought he would fold. In Jackson’s opinion, Pitre was a nut but not a sociopath.
His cell phone rang and he glanced down then grabbed the phone when he saw the call was coming from headquarters. Maybe one of the cops reviewing videotape had spotted something.
“Lamotte, this is Brewster,” the detective said. “You were asking about missing girls the other day and I told you about the pro that the roommate reported.”
“Yeah, you got anything else?”
“A body. Tourist found it in Metairie Cemetery. And get this, she was tied to a cross on a crypt by her hands and feet and had a crown of thorns on her head. I know crazy isn’t limited to atheists, but when these religious fanatics lose it, they really go hard. That’s some seriously sick shit.”
Jackson winced. “Agreed. Do you have a cause of death?”
“Nothing official yet. You know the drill, but she was strangled. The bruises on her throat were consistent with handprints. Maybe that wasn’t what ultimately did her in, but it was definitely the route he took. I didn’t see any other wounds. No blood.”
“Rape?”
“Can’t say for sure until the autopsy, but her clothes were intact and no bruising on her thighs. If I had to guess, I’d say no, but given her profession I doubt there will be any shortage of hair and fibers.”
“Yeah. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Do you think this has something to do with your missing girl?”
Jackson had gone looking for the information for Shaye, not himself, but he couldn’t exactly say that. “I was leaning toward no when I asked, and now I’m definitely hoping it’s no. But you have to cover all bases.”
“Gotcha. Well, good luck. Let me know if you need more info. The autopsy is scheduled for this afternoon.”
“That’s quick given the backlog.”
“Brass is in a snit over young girls going missing. It looks bad in the press. And it doesn’t help if tourists find them strung up on crosses, so they’re pushing it ahead of other cases. I think they’re probably operating out of your camp, worried that these two cases are related. My guess is they’re not about to be caught back-burnering a murder that might have led to finding a victim alive.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Thanks again. I owe you one.”
“I’ll take payment in beer the next time we both get off at a decent hour.”
“You got it.”
Jackson disconnected and blew out a breath. If Sunny Trahan wasn’t Shaye’s victim, then it was an enormous coincidence. The strangulation. Lack of sexual assault. Blatant religious signaling. It fit the profile she’d given him in its entirety. Which meant her priest’s instincts had been correct. The confession had been legitimate. Jackson knew he didn’t have to tell Shaye how dangerous someone was who stood behind religion for the awful things they did. She’d lived it firsthand. And if the man who’d strangled the life out of a girl and strung her up in a cemetery was messing with a priest, then that priest was in serious danger.
He lifted his phone and called Shaye. “I’ve got some news,” he said when she answered. He filled her in on Sunny Trahan. He could tell by her response that she was saddened but not surprised.
“I talked to her roommate this morning,” Shaye said. “Honestly, I wasn’t holding out much hope, but this is way worse than I imagined. The dramatic placement, I mean.”
“I know I don’t have to tell you all the implications,” he said.
“No,” she said quietly. “I know what I’m up against, and I’ve been putting some measures in place. I’m on my way to see my client now. This is going to devastate him. Especially given the girl’s age. If she was the same age as her roommate, no w
ay that girl was an adult.”
“The detective investigating doesn’t think so, either. I’m really sorry about the girl and what it means for your client, but I’m even more worried for you. Promise me you’ll get backup if you have to go anywhere questionable, especially after dark. If I’m not available, you’ve got people you can call.”
“I know. And I will.”
Jackson’s cell signaled another call and he saw it was Grayson. “I have to go. Call me later and let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
“Thanks.”
He disconnected with Shaye and answered Grayson’s call.
“Pitre is on the move,” Grayson said.
“Driving?”
“No. He walked out the back entrance and is headed south. I’m about half a block behind.”
“I’ll be right there.” Jackson jumped out of his truck and took off down the street at a decent run, dodging people as he went. He was probably a good two blocks behind Grayson but assuming Pitre was walking normally, it wouldn’t take him long to catch up.
A couple minutes later, he spotted Grayson crossing the street half a block in front of him. He picked up the pace a bit and caught up with him right after he’d crossed the street.
Grayson looked over at him and grinned. “I’m impressed. I didn’t figure you’d catch up for another block or so.”
“Helps that we’re in casual clothes today. Couldn’t have done it in dress shoes.”
“Or if you had you would regret it later.” Grayson pointed to Pitre, who was about to cross the street a half block ahead of them. “There’s our man.”
“Probably going to lunch,” Jackson said. “And I hurried for nothing.”
“But you never know. Hey, he’s going into the church grounds.”
“Let’s pick up pace. I don’t want to lose him in the courtyard.”
They increased to a slow jog, dodging pedestrians as they went, but stopped at the corner and waited for the crossing light. The last thing they needed was a bunch of cars honking at them. That drew attention. If Pitre turned around and saw them, there was no doubt he’d know what they were up to.