“Could you find the place again?”
“Oh, I never want to go back there.” Ruby’s eyes widened at the possibility. “Diablo would kill me if I did. Especially if he knew I’d been talking to you and to the cops.”
“The cops?”
Ruby nodded, dropping her eyes again.
“I got picked up for shoplifting after I left the compound. I was just trying to get some food, but the cops found drugs. They wanted to lock me up, but Detective Bell brought me here instead.”
“And you told the police abut Diablo, and about the compound?”
An angry glint shown in Ruby’s eyes.
“I tried, but they wouldn’t believe me.”
Rising from the chair, Ruby moved to the window. She wrapped her arms around her thin body and stared out toward the parking lot.
“I’m sorry they didn’t believe you,” Veronica said, feeling a guilty flush spread over her cheeks at her own doubt. “But I do, and I’d like to help stop these men before they hurt other women.”
Ruby didn’t respond.
“If you can describe what the man called Diablo looks like, we can make a composite drawing, and-”
A soft cry interrupted Veronica’s words as Ruby turned around, her face deathly pale, her dark eyes filled with fear.
“I can’t do this. I need you to leave. It isn’t safe.”
“What isn’t safe?”
Scurrying toward the door, Ruby didn’t stop or answer as Veronica called after her.
“Ruby? If you want to talk again, you can call me.”
But Ruby had already disappeared down the hall.
✽ ✽ ✽
Veronica left Hope House feeling as if she’d just failed an important test. Ruby Chase had wanted to tell her story, but something Veronica had said or done stopped her.
What was it that made her clam up and panic?
Parking her Jeep in the downtown parking garage, Veronica tried to bring her focus back to the task at hand. She needed to talk to Nessa. Hopefully, the police chief had an update on the search for Astrid Peterson.
As she approached the police station, Veronica saw Peyton Bell standing on the sidewalk. The detective wore a black police-issue jacket and a thick woolen scarf. Her short hair had been tucked away under a dark knit cap.
Looks like Peyton hates cold weather as much as I do.
Veronica buttoned her red coat and stuck her hands in the pockets, wishing she’d remembered to bring her gloves.
“Detective Bell, how are you?”
Veronica gave an awkward nod, thinking that she’d never be able to repay the detective who had saved her mother’s life when Ling Lee had been abducted the previous fall.
“I’m doing pretty good,” Peyton replied, but her smile melted as she stared past Veronica.
Looking around, Veronica saw Detective Marc Ingram marching toward them. Peyton’s partner wore a nasty scowl as he approached.
“Are you working on the joint trafficking task force?” Veronica asked Peyton, determined to ignore Ingram. “Has there been any progress that you can share with the community?”
“No comment, Ms. Lee,” Ingram said behind her. “If you have any questions for the department, ask our media relations officer. She’s right over there.”
Veronica could see Tenley Frost standing outside the police station. She appeared to be deep in conversation with Nessa Ainsley, and Veronica suspected the media relations officer wouldn’t be happy to see her.
Anticipating a cold reception, Veronica was surprised when Tenley looked up and waved a graceful arm in her direction. She left Peyton and Ingram behind, eager to speak to Nessa while she had the chance.
“Hello, Veronica!” Tenley called out in the friendly tone she usually reserved for on-camera press conferences. “How’s your mother's campaign going?”
The question stiffened Veronica’s back. Tenley was undoubtedly being friendly in hopes of getting information about Ling Lee’s campaign strategy. After all, the woman worked for Mayor Hadley. She was bound to want to help her boss get re-elected.
“I’m sure it’s going very well,” Veronica replied, without a smile. “But since I’m a reporter, I don’t get involved in the campaign for any candidate, even my own mother.”
“Of course,” Tenley said with a wink, smoothing back a glossy strand of auburn hair. “I just wanted you to know, off the record, that your mother has my vote."
Blinking in surprise, Veronica gaped at Tenley, then turned to see if Nessa had overheard the unexpected admission.
“Don’t look so shocked,” Nessa said, a wry smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Anyone who gives a hoot about Willow Bay, or who knows what Mayor Hadley’s really like, is planning to vote for your mother.”
Tenley nodded her agreement.
“Especially anyone who plans to raise a daughter in this town.”
The comment brought another smile to Nessa’s face. She turned her light blue eyes to Tenley.
“How is that little angel of yours?”
A pleased blush turned Tenley’s smooth skin pink.
“Little Avery Lynn is perfect.” Tenley’s happy smile faded. “Although, I have to admit this town is beginning to feel like a dangerous place to raise a daughter."
Veronica raised her eyebrows at the city’s official spokesperson.
“I’m assuming that comment was also off the record?”
Without waiting for a reply, Veronica turned back to Nessa, her thoughts returning to poor Ruby Chase hiding in fear over at Hope House.
“Tell me, Chief Ainsley, for the record, do you think the women in this town are in danger?”
Chapter Nine
Nessa winced at Veronica’s blunt question, knowing she couldn’t tell the reporter that Willow Bay was unsafe for women without causing panic in the community. But she was also reluctant to make a blanket statement that there was nothing to fear. Either option could cause trouble down the line.
“Willow Bay is safer than other cities in South Florida,” Nessa finally said. “Crime rates are much higher in Miami or Tampa.”
The image of Agent Marlowe’s map of trafficking activity flashed through her mind. The red and blue stickers had painted a grim picture. She could only hope the press wouldn’t get hold of the map before the task force could make some real progress.
“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Tenley said, her voice losing some of its warmth. “I’ve got to get back to City Hall.”
As soon as Tenley was out of earshot, Veronica turned to Nessa.
“Have you heard anything more about Astrid Peterson? Any update from Agent Marlowe or your detectives?”
“I’ve assigned the case to Vanzinger and Jankowski, but I haven’t gotten an official report from them on their progress yet.”
Noting the disappointment on Veronica’s face, Nessa promised herself that she’d check in with the detectives before lunch time. The sudden thought of lunch made her stomach lurch, and she wondered if she was coming down with a stomach bug.
Maybe one of the boys brought home the flu. That’s all I need now.
“…and I’m glad it’s not Detective Ingram.”
Nessa frowned, realizing she’d missed Veronica’s last remark.
“I was just saying I’m glad you assigned Detectives Vanzinger and Jankowski to the case instead of Detective Ingram,” Veronica repeated. “I’m sorry to say, but I can’t stand that man.”
Looking around to make sure they were alone, Nessa leaned forward and lowered her voice.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” she murmured. “You aren’t the only one to feel that way. And off the record, Mayor Hadley signed an iron clad agreement with Ingram which allowed him back on the force against my advice.”
Veronica rolled her eyes.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she asked, shaking her head in disgust. “That man doesn’t ever seem to learn his lesson.”
“Well, he’s not the only one. Ol
d Judge Eldredge mediated the agreement, so I don’t have a hope in hell of getting it thrown out.”
The frown on Veronica’s face deepened.
“You mean the same Judge Eldredge that lets criminals like Nick Sargent walk free on bail?”
Nessa nodded, her own outrage bubbling up to match Veronica’s.
“Yep, that’s the one. But if we’re lucky, Judge Eldredge will be voted out of office along with Mayor Hadley next month.”
A high-pitched scream sounded somewhere in the distance. Nessa looked around in alarm as a man came charging down the sidewalk, his eyes bulging underneath a Miami Heat baseball cap.
“What’s going on?” Nessa called out. “Are you hurt?”
“There’s a woman sitting on a bench in Old Willow Square,” the man gasped as he ran toward the police station. “She’s…she’s dead.”
✽ ✽ ✽
The woman sat on a wooden bench under a gnarled willow oak tree. She was bundled up for winter in a puffy black parka, black jeans, and black boots. A thick woolen scarf was draped around her neck, and a black knit cap covered her head.
Long strands of strawberry blonde hair had escaped the cap, falling over her shoulders and obstructing a clear view of her face as she appeared to stare down at a newspaper on her lap.
“Are you sure she’s dead?”
The woman in front of Nessa nodded.
“She’s stone cold. I checked her pulse just to be sure, but I used to be a nurse over at Willow Bay General until I retired last year, and I know a dead body when I touch it.”
Hearing the whine of an ambulance siren coming closer, Nessa knew she had to focus on securing the scene. A crowd had started to gather, and she didn’t want pictures of the poor woman’s body posted online before she’d had a chance to figure out who the woman was, and what had happened to her.
She called over to Andy Ford, who was staring at the body with wide eyes. The young officer had been the first one on the scene, and he seemed shaken by the surreal sight.
“Officer Ford, call Eddings out here. You two can cordon off the scene while we wait for the medical examiner.”
Footsteps pounded the pavement behind her. Vanzinger appeared at her shoulder, closely followed by Jankowski.
“What the hell?” Vanzinger murmured.
“We need Iris here as soon as possible,” Nessa said, catching sight of the ambulance crew running across the square. “Unfortunately, these guys are way too late to be of any help.”
The paramedics confirmed the retired nurse’s assessment under Nessa’s watchful gaze, taking care not to disturb the body before rolling the empty stretcher back to the ambulance.
Minutes later Wesley Knox appeared in the crowd using his thick arms and broad shoulders to make a path for Iris Nguyen. The petite medical examiner followed closely behind the brawny forensic technician. She wore white protective coveralls and carried the big black bag she always took with her to a death scene.
“We need to get a tent set up,” Iris called to Wesley as she surveyed the scene. “And I want to take plenty of photos before we move anything.”
Iris turned to Nessa with a grim expression.
“I think you need to get Alma Garcia and her team out here fast.”
“You think this is a suspicious death?” Nessa asked. “Couldn’t she just have sat down and had a heart attack or something?”
Raising her eyebrows, Iris shook her head.
“She wouldn’t still be sitting upright if she’d suffered a sudden fatal event of some kind,” Iris explained. “I’d say that her body’s been staged and that whoever left her here didn’t want her death to be discovered until he was long gone.”
Jankowski hovered at Nessa’s shoulder and cleared his throat.
“You want me and Vanzinger to take this one, Chief?”
She nodded slowly, her plan to ask him for an update on the Astrid Peterson case now forgotten.
“Yes, and you probably want to start by interviewing the witnesses who found her on the bench.”
She pointed out the man in the Miami Heat hat and the retired nurse still standing in the crowd, then waited as a tent was erected around the bench. Once Iris was inside performing her initial exam of the body, Nessa waved Vanzinger over.
“I’m assigning this one to you and Jankowski, and I expect we’ll need to give a press conference before the day is over, so we need to get feedback from Iris as quickly as possible.”
“Speaking of the press…”
Following Vanzinger’s gaze, Nessa saw Veronica Lee and a Channel Ten News cameraman setting up just outside the scene perimeter. A crew from Channel Six News snaked their way through the crowd just behind them.
Stress began to work its way up Nessa’s back as she anticipated the media frenzy around the case. Her thoughts were interrupted by Wesley’s deep voice from inside the tent.
“Chief Ainsley, can you come in here?”
Nessa ducked under the flap, her pulse quickening as she joined Iris beside the bench. The woman’s parka had been removed to reveal the bluish flesh of her back, and Nessa felt her stomach heave as she saw the red, ragged bullet hole in the stiff, mottled skin.
“Looks like we may have found our cause of death,” Iris said, as Nessa felt Vanzinger slip into the tent beside her. “And based on her internal body temperature, and the lividity of her skin, I’d say she was frozen within hours of death.”
"Frozen? Like, in a freezer frozen?”
Iris nodded.
“She’s just starting to thaw. Decomposition hasn’t even begun.”
Circling to the other side of the body, Vanzinger bent to stare at the woman’s face, still partially shielded by her curtain of reddish, blonde hair.
“So, you’re saying someone shot her in the back, kept her body in a freezer, then staged her here on this bench so we would find her?"
He raised a long finger and lifted a strand of hair to reveal the woman’s cold, stiff face. Suddenly dizzy, Nessa turned and felt her way out of the tent, lifting her face to the sky and sucking in a breath of cold, fresh air.
“You okay, Chief?”
Peyton Bell stood guard by the perimeter as the crowd continued to swell. Both women turned to Vanzinger as he charged out of the tent after Nessa, his face flushed a deep red to match his crewcut.
"Maybe I’m crazy,” Vanzinger gasped, “but I’d say that woman in there looks an awful lot like Astrid Peterson.”
“Who’s Astrid Peterson?”
Nessa ignored Peyton’s question as she stared at Vanzinger, her mind spinning with the possibility that the woman who’d disappeared from Montana almost two years before could have turned up on a bench in the middle of Old Willow Square.
“How sure are you?”
She watched Vanzinger pull out his phone and tap on the display. The color in his face drained away as he held up the phone to show her Astrid Peterson’s image from the FBI’s missing person website.
“Based on this, I’d say I’m pretty damn sure.”
Chapter Ten
Peyton glanced down at Vanzinger’s phone. A pretty woman with long, strawberry blonde hair filled the screen. The kind of vibrant young woman she’d expect to see on a shampoo commercial. Was that same woman inside the tent?
“Who is Astrid Peterson?”
Her eyes were still on Vanzinger’s phone.
“She was a college student in Montana. Went missing about two years ago,” Vanzinger said, sticking his phone back in his pocket. “The local police organized a search, called in the FBI, but they never were able to find out what happened to her.”
Looking toward Nessa, Peyton was alarmed to see the chief of police swaying on her feet. She reached out a hand to steady her.
“Chief? Are you okay?”
Nessa nodded and straightened her shoulders.
“I’ll be fine,” she murmured, giving Peyton a weak smile. “I should have eaten something for lunch. And seeing that poor girl in there certai
nly doesn’t help.”
“I hope the FBI has Astrid Peterson’s DNA on file,” Vanzinger said. “If they managed to get a profile, we’ll know for sure it’s her.”
Lifting a finger to her lips, Nessa motioned for the big detective to keep his voice down. Peyton looked around to see who might be listening in to their conversation.
The historic square was jammed with people trying to get a glimpse inside the tent, but no one seemed close enough to overhear anything they were saying.
Her eyes landed on the Channel Ten News crew shooting live at the edge of the scene. Veronica Lee stood in front of the camera holding a microphone and gesturing to the tent behind her.
“I don’t want Veronica to find out the victim might be Astrid Peterson,” Nessa said in a hushed voice. “Not until we’re sure.”
Peyton raised her eyebrows and turned to Vanzinger.
“How does Veronica know about Astrid Peterson?”
“Astrid Peterson submitted a comment on the Channel Ten website,” he murmured. “At least someone claiming to be Astrid did. Said she was like the other girls in Veronica’s reports and that she was being held by a man who wouldn’t let her go.”
Glancing back at Veronica, Peyton understood Nessa’s reluctance. If the woman in the tent had reached out to the reporter for help, and subsequently been killed trying to escape, it would be a bitter pill for Veronica to swallow.
“If Astrid disappeared in Montana, why did she contact a reporter all the way down here in Willow Bay?” Peyton asked, her past experience as a detective on the missing person’s squad in Memphis kicking in. “Maybe he was holding her down here, or has connections in the area?”
Vanzinger’s eyes narrowed in concentration.
“Maybe leaving her here for us to find is the killer’s way of stopping us from looking for her where she was taken.”
He spoke slowly, as if still piecing together the thought.
“Could be this is the guy’s way of saying, no need to look anywhere else, cause here she is.”
“You could be right,” Nessa said, her voice sounding stronger. “But, if my gut is right, I think he’s telling us, no need to look anywhere else, cause here I am.”
Her Winter of Darkness Page 6