Must be too cold to wait for dull city officials to make a statement.
Circling the crowd, Nessa attempted to study the faces of the people who’d decided to stick around.
Is the man who killed Astrid Peterson here in the crowd?
She heard someone calling her name before she could get a good look at everyone. Vanzinger waved to her from the podium, his red crewcut covered by a white knit cap.
“We’re about to start, Chief,” he called to her, sounding nervous.
“There you are, Nessa,” Tenley murmured in relief, grabbing Nessa’s hand and tugging her toward the podium. “I’ll introduce myself first, and then you and the detectives on the case. Which one of you can give a brief update on the investigation?”
Shaking her head at Tenley’s wide-eyed question, Nessa tried to step back, but Tenley held on to her hand.
“We just got started on this investigation,” Nessa whispered, turning her face away from the increasingly restless press corps. “We don’t have any update to give at this time.”
“They’re all standing here now,” Tenley whispered back with a pasted-on smile. “So, think of something….”
Before Nessa could protest further, Tenley turned to tap her long nails against the microphone. The reporters turned expectant eyes to the podium at the sound.
“Thank you for joining us today,” Tenley said, adopting the upbeat tone she’d perfected back when she’d been Channel Ten’s star reporter. “I’m Tenley Frost, Willow Bay’s media relations officer, and joining me at the podium is chief of police Nessa Ainsley.”
As Tenley continued with her standard introduction and greeting, Nessa again surveyed the faces staring up at the podium, expecting to see someone suspicious in the crowd.
“And now I’ll turn the microphone over to Chief Ainsley to give a brief update on the investigation.”
Inching toward the podium, Nessa tried to focus on the people she knew. Veronica Lee was there, grim and silent, as was a crew from Channel Six, and Mackenzie Jensen with the Willow Bay Gazette.
“The WBPD was called to Old Willow Square this morning after a body was discovered on a bench in the area. Officers responded within minutes, as did emergency services, but unfortunately the woman was already deceased.”
A wave of dizziness washed through Nessa as she spoke, and she had to grip the edge of the podium to steady herself.
“The woman’s identity has not been confirmed at this time, and an autopsy will be conducted within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours to determine cause and manner of death.”
Nessa swayed slightly on her feet, and for one terrifying moment she thought she was going to pass out, then suddenly a strong hand closed around her arm.
“I got you, Chief,” Vanzinger murmured, helping her back from the podium, his big arm holding her upright as she fought another wave of dizziness. “Jankowski can finish up.”
Watching Jankowski take her place at the podium, Nessa sucked in a breath of chilly air, willing her legs to stop shaking.
“I’m Detective Simon Jankowski, and I’m leading the investigation with my partner, Detective Tucker Vanzinger.”
Jankowski straightened his tie and adjusted the microphone. Nessa assumed he was stalling for time while he thought up something to say. She tried to step forward again, but Vanzinger held her arm and shook his head.
“Based on our initial investigation, we’re treating the death in Old Willow Square as a homicide. We are in the process of interviewing potential witnesses and have no suspects in custody at this time.”
A murmur of voices started up at his statement, but Jankowski ignored them, plowing ahead without pause.
“We will provide further updates to the press and the public as the investigation proceeds. The victim’s identity will be released once an autopsy has been completed, and family members notified.”
Raising his voice to be heard over the growing noise of the crowd, Jankowski leaned forward to speak directly into the microphone.
“We have no further information to share at this time.”
His brusque tone suggested questions would not be welcome, but the reporters immediately began to shout.
“Is the killer still on the loose?”
“Was the victim a local resident?”
“Can you provide details on the age or ethnicity of the victim?”
“Are the people in the community in danger?”
Jankowski stepped back from the podium, and gestured toward Tenley Frost, leaving the media relations officer to field the barrage of questions.
Nessa’s head had stopped spinning, and her legs felt steady enough to carry her back to her office. She looked up at Vanzinger and smiled weakly.
“Thanks for the support. I didn’t stop for lunch and…well, I guess it all just caught up with me.”
“I didn’t want to say anything, but you were looking kind of sickly earlier at the scene,” Vanzinger said, keeping his hand on her arm. “I think you better get yourself checked out, Chief.”
Shaking her head at the idea, Nessa shrugged off his arm. Before she could tell him she’d be fine, Mackenzie Jensen blocked her path.
“Chief Ainsley, why is the FBI involved in the investigation?”
“The feds aren’t involved, and we said no more questions.” Vanzinger’s voice was hard. “Now please clear the path.”
“I saw an FBI agent at the crime scene,” Mackenzie insisted. “Why were the feds at the scene of a local homicide?’
Nessa pushed past the journalist without a response. She hadn’t had a chance to think about Marlowe’s sudden appearance at the scene, but Mackenzie had a point.
Why was Agent Marlowe at my scene? What or who was he looking for?
First, she needed to eat lunch, and then she would seek the answer to Mackenzie Jensen’s question.
✽ ✽ ✽
Nessa had just taken another bite of her cheese and tomato sandwich when Marlowe knocked on the doorframe to her office.
“I got your text,” he said, holding up his phone in one hand as his tall figure filled the doorway.
Swallowing the bite more quickly than she’d planned, Nessa coughed, then grabbed for her water bottle and took a few sips.
“Yes, thanks for coming,” she said, clearing her throat. “I wanted to ask why you were at the scene in Old Willow Square.”
She wiped her hands with a napkin and threw it in the trash, but her eyes never left Marlowe’s face.
“Mayor Hadley’s son came in while we were having a meeting,” Marlowe said without hesitation. “Said a dead body had been found in the square, and that the woman was a possible trafficking victim. Naturally, I decided to see what was going on for myself.”
Stunned that Hunter had shared the confidential information about Astrid Peterson with Mayor Hadley, Nessa took another long sip of water and sighed.
“Hunter Hadley had no right to share that information with his father…but he was telling the truth. The woman we found is most likely Astrid Peterson, the one who went missing in Montana.”
Marlowe’s expression didn’t change.
“She’s the one Veronica Lee asked you about,” Nessa continued. “She sent a message saying she was being held against her will. She said she was like the women in Veronica’s reports on trafficking.”
“Yes, I remember the woman,” Marlowe said, his eyes flicking to the phone he held in his hand. “I forwarded the information to the agent assigned to the case. I’ll let him know she’s been found.”
Frowning at Marlowe’s callous tone, Nessa leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.
“What does it take to get a show of emotion out of you, Agent Marlowe?” Nessa asked, no longer bothering to tone down her southern accent. “You hear that a young woman who reached out to us for help was killed and left on a park bench, and all you can say is you’ll update the agent in charge?”
Marlowe raised his eyebrows but didn’t reply
.
“Did you all even bother looking for Astrid Peterson?” Nessa demanded. “Did you even try to find out what happened to her?’
“Not me personally, Chief Ainsley,” Marlowe said, a hint of sarcasm coloring his voice. “But I know the assigned agent, and I can guarantee he did everything humanly possible to find that woman.”
Moving into the room, Marlowe positioned himself in front of her desk. She lifted her head to look up at him, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable.
“Just because I don’t let my emotions get in the way of doing my job doesn’t mean I don’t care,” Marlowe said calmly. “I don’t have the luxury of falling apart every time we find a dead body.”
“Have a seat, Agent Marlowe,” Nessa said, pointing to the chair across from her, “I’m getting a neck ache here.”
Finally flashing a smile, Marlowe lowered himself into the chair and leaned his elbows on the desk in front of him.
“Now, is there anything else you wanted to know?”
Nessa leaned back in her chair and shrugged.
“I’d love to get an update on Operation Stolen Angels,” she said. “I’d be interested in knowing if the task force has made any progress finding the men that have been preying on this community.”
Sticking his phone into the pocket of his jacket, Marlowe adjusted his position in the chair, as if settling in for an extended stay.
“I think we’re pretty close to figuring out who’s running the new organization,” he said, sounding pleased. “We worked with Miami PD last year to take down a similar group, and it seems some of the same men are involved. Only now they work for a different boss.”
“Let me guess,” Nessa said dryly. “The guy calls himself Diablo.”
Marlowe nodded.
“That’s why we’re calling the group the Diablo Syndicate. We know they’ve established connections with buyers and sellers through the darknet. It’s just a matter of time until we find out who Diablo really is and what rock he’s hiding under.”
Thinking back to Ruby Chase’s interview, Nessa wondered if the girl had been telling the truth about seeing Diablo. If so, would she be able to identify him? Could she be the key to stopping the guy once and for all?
“What would you say if I told you I know a girl who has seen this guy Diablo? That she may be able to identify him. Maybe even lead us to him.
Suddenly Marlowe’s placid expression tightened with interest.
“I’d say I need to speak to her as soon as possible.”
Nessa sipped again from her bottle, unsure she was doing the right thing. What if Ruby Chase had been making up a story to get herself out of trouble? What if she’d simply heard the rumors about Diablo and used the name to her advantage?
“Who is this girl that can identify Diablo?”
Marlowe’s eyes narrowed.
“And more importantly, where is she?”
Staring into the agent’s dark eyes, Nessa wondered again if she’d made a mistake telling Marlowe about Ruby Chase.
Chapter Sixteen
Ruby Chase stared out the window of Dr. Horn’s office with red, achy eyes. She’d woken up that morning thinking of her father and of little Rory, imagining her little brother watching cartoons on the living room floor while her father tried to make pancakes in the kitchen.
Dad never was able to make them fluffy the way Mom used to.
Thoughts of her family back in Daytona had strengthened Ruby’s cravings for the little pills that could take the edge off her guilt and her loneliness. The little pills had been at the heart of her downward spiral, but they now seemed like her only salvation.
Looking around as the door opened, Ruby saw the Hope House director bustle into the room carrying an armful of files and a mug of coffee.
“I hear you’re not doing so good today, Ruby. What’s going on?”
Ruby turned back to the window, surveying the parking lot beyond. The day she’d been in the office with Veronica Lee, she’d looked out that same window. She was sure she’d seen one of the men who’d been at Diablo’s compound. A big man who had barked orders at the others.
“I need something to take the edge off, Dr. Horn,” Ruby said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m feeling shaky, and I’ve been having these dreams…”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Ruby. And why don’t you call me Reggie? Everyone else does, and I think we need to get to know each other better if I’m going to be able to help you.”
Ruby nodded, looking down at her hands. She didn’t like the idea of telling the counselor anything about herself. She didn’t want anyone to know the kind of person she was, or the things she’d done.
“Now, why don’t you tell me about these dreams. Maybe if we can figure out why you’re having them, we can make them go away without needing any medication.”
“I don’t want to think about the dreams,” Ruby blurted out, clenching her hands into fists on her lap. “I just want something to make them go away. Please, just give me some pills and I won’t bother you anymore.”
Waiting until Ruby had finished with her outburst, Reggie shook her head and gave her a sad smile.
“It doesn’t work that way, Ruby. You need to face your problems in order to overcome them. The pills will only make it all worse.”
The counselor crossed the room to sit in the chair next to her.
“Now, tell me how you got here, Ruby. Tell me what it is that you can’t face without the pills. Sometimes just saying the words out loud takes away their power to control you.”
Ruby felt her shoulders slump under the weight of everything she’d been holding inside. But how could she tell this stranger what she’d done? She hadn’t told anyone the whole story. She didn’t even allow herself to think about it most of the time.
“I’m not here to judge you, Ruby. We’ve all made mistakes, but that’s part of being human. It’s what you do after you make a mistake that counts the most.”
Turning back to the window, Ruby shook her head.
“What if you just keep making mistakes, again and again?”
Tears burned her eyes as she thought of all the stupid decisions she’d made. So many bad choices which had caused so much pain.
“I got hooked on prescription pills back home,” Ruby found herself saying. “When I couldn’t get any more, I tried to steal them, and I got busted.”
She kept her eyes on the entrance to the parking lot as she spoke, half expecting to see Diablo’s big SUV pull in at any minute.
“I’d just turned eighteen, so I decided to leave. I thought maybe if I got away from home, from all the mistakes I’d made, it’d be better for everyone.”
Swallowing hard, Ruby couldn’t force herself to tell the truth. At least not the whole truth. She couldn’t relive the car crash that had taken her mother’s life and had left her dad in both physical and emotional agony. She wasn’t ready to shame herself even further by admitting she’d tried to treat her grief with her father’s drugs.
Only she and her father knew just how low she’d fallen. The look on his face when he’d found his prescription bottle in her purse had seared itself into her heart. After everything he’d been through, she’d betrayed him and disappointed him.
She’d left home the next day, leaving behind only a note of apology. Assuring him she’d be all right, and that she’d come back when she’d fixed herself, and when she could be the kind of daughter and sister he and Rory deserved.
“I had enough money to take a Greyhound bus to Tampa,” she said, finding her voice. “When I tried to buy pills from a girl at the bus station, she told me she knew someplace I could stay.”
Reggie sat still, her deep brown eyes resting patiently on Ruby’s face, as the memories came rushing back.
The glassy-eyed girl sat next to her on the concrete bench, her hands nervously fumbling with a small baggie of pills she’d pulled out of the pocket of her jean shorts.
“How much?” Ruby asked, looking at the pill
s, and thinking of the few crumpled bills remaining in the bottom of her backpack.
“You can have ‘em for free if you want,” the girl offered, swiping a hand under her nose and sniffing. “I know a place you can stay, too.”
“Nah, I’m supposed to meet someone,” she lied, not liking the vacant look in the girl’s eyes. “But I’ll give you a five for two pills.”
Digging in her backpack, Ruby pulled out her last five-dollar bill and extended it toward the girl, who just stared at it in confusion.
“Don’t you want a bag?”
“I’m kinda’ short on cash,” Ruby admitted, ready to walk away.
The girl hesitated, then motioned for Ruby to follow her.
“I can’t open this here,” she said, shaking the bag. “Follow me.”
Ruby watched the girl walk to the edge of the platform and disappear around the side. After a minute, she walked over and looked around the corner after her, but a black SUV was blocking her view.
Straining to see past the big vehicle, Ruby didn’t notice the man come up behind her until he’d put his massive hand on her arm, forcing her toward the idling SUV.
“What the fuck?” she’d sputtered, trying to wrench her arm away.
The man tightened his grip as he pushed her toward the back door, which swung open to reveal the glassy-eyed girl and another burly man wearing a black t-shirt and dark sunglasses.
“Shut up or I’ll call my cop buddies and tell ‘em about your little habit,” the man grunted, barely opening his mouth. “And don’t try anything stupid, like jumping out of the car. I know where you live, and I might have to pay a little visit to your family.”
Ruby knew the man was bluffing. There was no way he knew about her father and little brother across the state in Daytona.
But she wasn’t so sure about the threat of turning her into the cops.
She thought of the half-empty prescription bottle in the bottom of her backpack. Could she risk getting picked up and maybe causing her dad more worry? Hadn’t she already done enough to hurt him?
Her Winter of Darkness Page 10