Hard Press'd
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“We’re still tracking four of the most recently taken, and we’re getting close. I believe we will be able to get all four of them home eventually, too. As to the women who were taken over the last twenty years…well, we’re still trying to track several of them. Of course, some will never come home,” she sighed.
“As we find out more, the numbers may rise even higher. The Secretary of State may not get much sleep over the next few months. As I said, George had been at this for a very long time. The ledger we found may or may not be complete. There will never be any way to know whether or not we have located all of them.”
“They’ll all have a lot to get over,” Press added.
Bob spoke up. “We’ll be meeting with the DA later this week to go over the case against Moira and what can and cannot be used in her trial.”
“It was premeditated, Press. I assure you, Moira Roberts will never get out of prison. Even if she did—which she won’t,” and Rachel took a small amount of satisfaction in this, “she’d be penniless and her life would be crap.” Rachel smiled.
“What about David Olivette?” Press asked.
“David Olivette is going to be a witness against the whole trafficking ring to save his own neck. His lack of loyalty seemed to apply to everyone and everything. His court martial will guarantee that he never sees the outside of a military prison again. Even with the deal we made with him, the counts are so many he’ll never see daylight again.”
“He betrayed everyone who ever cared about him—his father, Macy, his country, even Moira—no one will come to his rescue,” Rachel assured him.
“That’ll have to be enough, won’t it?”
“Yes, it will.” She smiled.
“Well, I have a meeting. Detective, good to see you again.” Bob shook hands with Press, nodded to Rachel and left the conference room, closing the door behind him.
Rachel continued, “We know now that Moira was much more involved in George’s enterprises than we realized. The family money she brought with her when she married George set them up in business. Everything she possessed relied on George not getting caught.”
“So, to protect her own interests, she started a little enterprise of her own. Seems most of those jewels were paste. She’d swapped them out for the real thing a few at a time and set herself up in business out of George’s reach.”
“George was an ass. He abused Moira as much as he did his whores. Moira hated George even more than Macy did. If he had just treated her well, the drug business would never have been necessary and Macy would still be alive.” Rachel looked as sad as she sounded. “Murder is harder to hide than Moira thought.”
She waited as he sat looking sadder than she’d seen him in all the weeks they’d been working together.
“What’s wrong, Press?”
A humorless laugh escaped as he looked up at her, those icy blue eyes going straight through to her very soul. “Not here. Dinner tonight?”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll meet you at the hotel as soon as I’m finished here.” She looked forward to a little down time with him. Where they went from here—who knew?
Epilogue
Virginia Beach
Several Weeks Later
Press was so very grateful that they were all safe and sound—Steffi, Jennifer, Sherry.
As for not knowing all the details or having any control over the prosecutions, he found that ultimately, he didn’t really care—as long as David Olivette and George Roberts never hurt another woman.
As soon as Sherry’s doctor released her, she had relocated to Oregon to paint and teach privately. Since George was dead, she didn’t have to testify to what he had done to her that day. She just wanted to get away from everything that reminded her of how close she’d come to being a victim instead of a survivor of George Roberts’ evil.
A week after Moira’s arrest, George Roberts had been buried in a pauper’s grave.
For Moira—a woman’s penitentiary for the rest of her life would be satisfactory in Press’s mind. The longer she lived in those conditions, the better he liked it.
The Feds had seized all of the Roberts’ assets, including all the foreign accounts. The money would be given to the victims of his crimes.
Moira Roberts didn’t get bond, of course. If she had, she would have had to either get a job or live off the charity of her society friends. Frankly, there was no charity towards Moira. She was a pariah in the same circles that had held her in such high esteem just days before.
* * *
Press and Rachel had decided that they would give their relationship a chance. DC was only five hours away by car and just a short commuter flight by air.
Enjoying a lovely sunny weekend at the beach together, Press and Rachel snuggled under the covers and listened to the pounding surf, reflecting on the people who had lost so much.
As he nuzzled her ear, Press mused, “Poor Macy. If she hadn’t gone to Moira for help, she’d probably still be alive. Moira knew there were problems between George and Macy. She probably figured George would somehow get nabbed for Macy’s murder. It probably never occurred to her that we would zero in on David Olivette—or that David would turn on her.”
Rachel sighed. “I think Moira loved David. A strange couple—a woman abused and used by her husband with every right to hate men; a man who despised women in general, but who doted on a woman many years his senior.”
“I think Freud would have a great deal to say about that pair,” Press added.
The End
To my readers,
I hope you enjoyed your time at the beach. It’s one of my favorite haunts, and the reason I settled so near the coast.
As I sit here writing, it occurs to me that I haven’t been there recently. Hum…is that the surf beckoning me? I do believe it is.
Hopefully, Press and his friends are waiting for me there, and I’ll have another story to share soon.
Linda Rae
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Visit the author’s web site:
https://lindaraeblairauthor.wordpress.com/