The Toybox

by Charly Cox

  Manny took it and handed it over to Alyssa. ‘We’ll want a copy of that, but I think your department needs this more than we do right now.’

  ‘Thanks, Manny.’ She walked back over to her Tahoe while Cord stayed and talked to Manny. When she was far enough away from the commotion to hear, she dialed Hal and read off the vehicle identification number, feeling like she’d hit the motherlode. With this, they could learn everything about the car: the year, make, model. But more importantly, it would reveal the car’s ownership history, including whoever it was currently registered to.

  Her fingers and scalp tingled in anticipation as Hal typed the information in, mumbling to himself as he did, and then, with something close to reverence, shared what he discovered. ‘The 2017 Dodge Viper is registered to none other than Rosenfelt Holdings and Finance.’

  ‘Wait, Rosenfelt Holdings? As in, billionaire Bartholomew Rosenfelt, one of New Mexico’s largest land moguls? Doesn’t he live in New York or New Hampshire or Delaware or somewhere on the East Coast now?’ She knew he hailed from the Land of Enchantment, but despite his land holdings, which counted in the upper hundreds of thousands of acres scattered all around the state, the man himself hadn’t lived in New Mexico for a number of years.

  ‘Connecticut, and yes, that would be to whom I’m referring,’ Hal confirmed. ‘And before you ask, yes, he’s currently there, not in our great state, and how do I know? Because, as luck would have it, guess who’s flying into Double Eagle II tomorrow morning? Let me just tell you: One Bart himself. It’s been all over the news for a week now.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you have a way of contacting this Rosenfelt fellow now, do you?’ Alyssa felt her excitement sink a little at the prospect of having to wait.

  ‘Why, Alyssa, I can’t believe you underestimate my abilities. I actually have his personal cell phone number right in front of me – and no, I won’t tell you how I acquired it. That’s my secret. I’ll text it to you now.’

  ‘Hal, you really are the bomb. Do kids still say that?’

  ‘Sure, let’s say they do. And… it’s sent.’

  Alyssa’s phone chimed, and she hung up and hurried back to Cord. ‘Let’s go. We’ve got a name.’ To Manny, she said, ‘Thanks for this! We owe you one.’

  ‘By now you probably owe me more than one, but who’s really keeping score, right?’

  Alyssa laughed, and she and Cord rushed back to her Tahoe. As she performed a three-point turn, she said, ‘I’m glad this is a four-wheel drive. I’m amazed that Viper was able to make it through some of this rocky terrain.’

  ‘Maybe because of its lack of clearance, but you never even shifted out of two-wheel drive,’ Cord pointed out. ‘So, you going to tell me who the car is registered to, or am I just supposed to figure it out by reading your mind?’

  ‘Rosenfelt Holdings and Finance.’

  Instead of the excitement she’d expected to see, Alyssa watched as Cord cupped the back of his neck and rotated. ‘Bartholomew Rosenfelt is one of the richest men in the country… any country.’

  ‘Yeah, so? That doesn’t mean he’s above the law, does it? If he’s somehow involved in this, well, the same punishment applies to him as it does to anyone else.’

  ‘I’m not saying it doesn’t. I’m just predicting a media hailstorm, not to mention the political fallout from the implication of the possibility of his involvement in a fourteen-year-old girl’s brutal rape and murder.’ She actually heard Cord’s teeth grinding at the words.

  She risked a glance at him before turning her attention back to the road. ‘Not just rape and murder, Cord, a possible sex trafficking ring.’ Keeping one hand on the wheel, she handed him her phone. ‘Thanks to him working magic the way only Hal can, I’ve got the guy’s personal number, so why don’t we just call and see what he has to say?’

  ‘Isn’t he arriving in Albuquerque tomorrow anyway?’

  ‘Am I the only one who didn’t know this?’

  ‘I just heard about it today while Sara and I were waiting for the doctor. We’ve been kind of busy with finding out what happened to Rachel, Jersey, and Katelyn, not to mention finding out who killed Meghan. Watching the entertainment news hasn’t exactly been high on our list of priorities.’

  That reminded her: she wanted to know what was wrong with Sara, and why he’d chosen to go to the doctor with his wife, who was a registered nurse.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Friday, May 24

  As it turned out, they had to wait anyway since repeated attempts at reaching Bartholomew Rosenfelt failed – as had her efforts in reaching anyone within his company who may have been able to tell her who drove the Dodge Viper. Alyssa left several messages expressing the urgency of returning her calls, all to no avail. And that was why, just before eight on Friday morning, Alyssa and Cord found themselves sitting in the tiny restaurant located at Double Eagle II Airport listening to the news blasting from the tiny television mounted high on the wall in the corner while watching the privately owned planes take off and land.

  ‘Checking your watch every thirty seconds isn’t going to get his plane here any quicker, you do know that, don’t you?’ Cord asked as Alyssa peeked at the time – again.

  ‘I’m not wearing a watch,’ she retorted, then sighed. ‘I’m just impatient.’

  Her partner’s jaw dropped open. ‘No. You? Impatient? Wait, wait, let me work on my shocked face. Oh yeah, there it is. How’s that?’

  Alyssa wadded up her napkin and tossed it at Cord’s face, earning her a narrow-eyed glare from the lone woman working the diner who happened to be wiping down the table right next to them. Alyssa didn’t take it personally since the facial tattoos the woman wore apparently weren’t the only permanent things on her; so was the scowl she’d bestowed on every customer in the place. When she stalked away to help a pilot who walked up to the counter, Alyssa whispered, ‘She could almost give Ruby a run for her money, don’t you think?’

  Cord’s head bobbed in agreement. ‘I’d still place my bet on Ruby any day of the week and twice on Saturdays. You know, I’m not entirely unconvinced she wasn’t a pitbull in her past life.’

  ‘I’d pay good money to see her reaction to that comment.’

  Eyes widening comically, her partner shook his head back and forth, his hair falling into his eyes as he did. ‘I’d kick it into gear and leave the country before she could find me.’

  Alyssa chuckled. ‘All the gold and silver in the world couldn’t take you far enough away to hide you from Ruby’s wrath.’

  Cord’s eyes widened, and his fork clattered to the plate. ‘Gold,’ he whispered.

  Baffled by his reaction, Alyssa stopped smiling. And then she jerked upright, her spine stiffening as what she said clicked. ‘The symbol branded into Meghan Jessup’s hip – it’s the hermetic symbol for gold! The same gear that’s on the Rosenfelt Holdings logo!’ The second she said it, she knew they were finally closing in on more answers than questions.

  Cord wiped one hand down his face as he slumped back against his chair. ‘Holy…’ And then he slammed his fist against the table, rattling the plates, the napkin holder, the salt and pepper shakers, and their half-empty cups of coffee. ‘Damn it! It’s been right there in front of us this entire time. Jesus! How could we miss that?’

  A shadow fell across the window, and they both twisted in their seats in time to witness Rosenfelt’s sleek Gulfstream – clearly the priciest one here – hit the tarmac with barely a bounce, showcasing the pilot’s expertise. Due to Hal’s research, she now knew this private luxury liner held up to fourteen passengers, had a private executive suite, a bedroom, and an extensive bar. And whenever Rosenfelt entertained guests, everyone from bartenders to toddlers was required to sign a nondisclosure agreement that would result in a massive lawsuit if said agreement was breached. In Alyssa’s professional opinion, that amount of secrecy was usually only warranted when shady dealings were taking place.

  Say, for instance, dabbling in the sex trafficking
trade, a lucrative business for the heartless.

  Alyssa took a final swallow of lukewarm coffee before heading outside to wait for one of the world’s wealthiest men to disembark. At almost nine in the morning, the temperature had already soared into the low eighties, and there wasn’t a single cloud in the blue sky or even a hint of a breeze to break up the heat, so when five, ten, then fifteen minutes elapsed with the plane not moving, and no one exiting the aircraft, waiting in the hot sun ate away at Alyssa’s patience.

  ‘What in the hell is he doing in there?’

  ‘I don’t know, but you need to hold onto your temper. Otherwise, we risk him clamming up immediately when he sees us.’ The tightening in Cord’s jaw belied his own impatience, and she wondered if he was thinking of his sister, Shelley. If she was, it stood to reason there was a good chance so was he.

  When the door to the plane finally opened a couple of minutes later, the stairs whirred their way to the ground, and Bartholomew Rosenfelt descended from inside the cabin, dressed in pressed khakis and a hunter green silk shirt that even from a distance looked like it cost more than Alyssa made in two months. At the top of the steps, Rosenfelt paused, one hand still holding onto the door, surveying his surroundings, and to Alyssa, it appeared he was expecting an orchestra to announce his arrival.

  She disliked him on sight.

  Standing just behind Rosenfelt was Vincent Yates. According to Hal’s research, Yates had been the billionaire’s private pilot for close to twenty-five years. While his attire wasn’t quite as snazzy as his boss’s, he still sported clothes that would’ve taken more than one of Alyssa’s paychecks to purchase. And if anyone would know about Rosenfelt’s comings and goings, he would be the one, so she had every intention of cornering him, too. Before descending the steps, both men whipped out aviator sunglasses and placed them over their eyes.

  Tired of being patient – well, tired of waiting, anyway – Alyssa approached the land mogul billionaire, hand outstretched to introduce herself only to have him ignore it as he removed his sunglasses and stared down at the badge sitting at her hip. After craning his neck to check that Cord also wore a badge, he popped his shades back into place.

  ‘Albuquerque Police Department?’ Rosenfelt drawled. ‘Has something occurred with one of my properties that I’ve been as of yet uninformed?’ Barely shifting his chin to the side, it was clear he was expecting a response from his pilot as well as the detectives.

  ‘None that I’m aware of, sir.’ Vincent Yates’s voice was high-pitched and squeaky, not at all befitting of the man’s physique.

  ‘Detectives Wyatt and Roberts. We have some questions we’d like to ask you. Why don’t we head inside where it’s not so hot?’

  His expression guarded, Rosenfelt lowered his glasses to the bridge of his nose and peered over them at Alyssa. ‘Do I need my attorney present, Detective? As he’s not traveling with me at the moment, this conversation will need to wait. If his presence is necessary, that is.’

  ‘I can’t answer that for you, Mr. Rosenfelt. You’re not under arrest; we’re merely hoping you can provide some answers for us. However, if you feel you can’t answer those questions without an attorney present, then I suppose that’s entirely up to you. Do you have something you wish to hide from us?’

  Bartholomew Rosenfelt threw his head back and laughed, a deep, throaty sound. ‘I think I might like you, Detective. But if I do indeed have things to hide, then I most likely wouldn’t want to inform you of that fact, now would I?’ He turned to his pilot. ‘After she gets sprayed down, go ahead and put her in the hangar and wait for me there.’

  Yates nodded and took off in the opposite direction, presumably to get one of the service attendants who worked at the small airport.

  ‘Shall we?’ Rosenfelt moved past the detectives as he led the way off the tarmac and into the lobby, strutting through as if he owned the place, proving how much clout he truly did have. Without slowing his stride in the slightest, he passed the receptionist’s desk, throwing over his shoulder, ‘Jenny, my usual conference room is available, I presume?’

  Star-struck, eyes shining bright and fluttering her eyelashes in a movie-like caricature of a love-sick creature, Jenny rushed to assure him. ‘Yes, of course. As soon as we were informed you were arriving, we made sure to have it ready in case you required it.’

  Tottering on ridiculously high stilettos, she moved from behind her counter to follow him but stopped when Rosenfelt waved a hand in the air with the command, ‘Be sure we’re not interrupted, Jenny.’

  Alyssa and Cord exchanged looks. Rosenfelt was a man who was used to being in charge and expected people to obey. Well, he was in for a surprise because she was also used to being in charge, and she was going to get answers from the man, no matter what it took.

  Rosenfelt stopped at a large, ornately designed wooden door, which opened into a spacious conference room. He stepped inside and ushered Alyssa and Cord in before closing the door, crossing to a linen-covered table and pouring a glass of ice water from the pitcher perched in the middle. ‘Anything for you?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’d actually like to get down to business, if you don’t mind.’

  He gave a curt nod. ‘Certainly. Why don’t you start by telling me what this is about?’ He made a show of checking the expensive Rolex on his wrist.

  Alyssa didn’t bother to ease into things because she wanted to see his first reaction before his mind had time to conjure up excuses. ‘What can you tell me about the rape and murder of Meghan Jessup?’

  One eyebrow shot up, and he frowned. ‘Come again?’

  ‘I said…’

  ‘I know what you said, Detective. I have no idea what you’re talking about. As I’m in Albuquerque, and you’re with the Albuquerque Police Department, I’m going to put two and two together and assume this Meghan woman is also from here. Since I haven’t been in New Mexico for more than a year, much less Albuquerque, I’m not sure why you’d think I’d have anything to do with anyone’s rape and murder. And I don’t mind telling you I’m a little insulted that you would assume I do.’

  ‘Mr. Rosenfelt, Meghan Jessup was fourteen years old. And not only was she raped and murdered, she was discovered with your company’s logo branded into her hip. How do you explain that?’

  His hands dropped to his side, and he shook his head as if he hadn’t heard correctly. ‘Excuse me? When was this?’

  Of course, it was possible Rosenfelt was a great actor, but to Alyssa, his shocked reaction seemed genuine. Still, she pushed. ‘Tuesday, the twenty-first. Is it coming back to you?’

  This time, Rosenfelt narrowed his eyes. His jaw clenched as he leveled his gaze on her. ‘Detective, I assure you I had nothing to do with this young girl’s rape and murder, and while I want to help you, I won’t be bullied or harassed, and if you intend to continue pointing your finger at me, I’ll be forced to contact my attorney which in turn will force you to wait to get answers. If that’s what you want, then proceed with your barely cloaked accusations. But before you do, I want you to understand that I can either be an ally or an enemy, and it’s really up to you which I am.’

  Cord spoke before Alyssa could. ‘Mr. Rosenfelt, security cameras spotted someone driving a 2017 red Dodge Viper removing Meghan Jessup’s body from the trunk and tossing her inside an abandoned restaurant. Last night we discovered that same Viper driven off a cliff out in Rio Rancho. That Viper, sir, is registered to Rosenfelt Holdings and Finance.’

  ‘Are you asking me a question, Detective?’

  ‘Why would someone driving a 2017 Dodge Viper registered to your company be dumping a dead body – branded with your company logo – if you don’t know anything about it?’

  Fixing them both with a steady look, he said, ‘I’m reaching into my pocket to grab my phone, Detectives, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t jump the gun so to speak and shoot me because you’re afraid I’m reaching for a weapon.’

  Despite his words, Alyssa and Cord both shifte
d so their hands hovered over their service pistols, relaxing them only when they saw the phone.

  Rosenfelt punched in a number and brought the phone to his ear. From where she was standing, Alyssa heard the woman on the other end answer.

  ‘Kimberly, drop whatever you’re doing. I need to know who’s driving the 2017 Dodge Viper in Albuquerque, and I need to know now.’ His hand tapped impatiently on his sweating glass of ice water as he waited for his secretary to supply an answer. When she came back on the line, his eyes cut over to Alyssa. ‘Steven Yarmini. You sure about that? Yes, I want his address and phone number. And Kimberly, this conversation is not to be discussed when I hang up. Not with anyone. Am I clear?’

  Eye contact unwavering, voice firm, and a decisive nod later, he shared the information. ‘Steve Yarmini is in charge of my Albuquerque holdings. His responsibilities include meeting with investors as well as scouting out acreage I may be interested in purchasing. He’s been with my company for approximately four years, and to my knowledge has never given me cause to suspect him of any wrongdoing, much less something of this heinous nature. That being said, you claim to have seen the car he drives at the scene of the crime and later discovered it at the bottom of a cliff. And while I may be many unsavory things to certain people in this world, and my methods may not always be met with approval, one thing I will not be accused of is rape and murder. And if someone in my employ is guilty, I, along with my company, will do what it takes to bring that person to justice. On the other hand, I assure you, if my employee proves to be innocent, in the wrong place at the wrong time, I, along with my company, will provide counsel and fight the charges.’

  Alyssa heard everything he said, but what had her mind buzzing was that Steven Yarmini was responsible for scouting out acreage. If Rachel, Jersey and, Katelyn – and others, if Lorna Price was correct – were being held somewhere, he might know where. A wave of urgency gave emphasis to her words. ‘I appreciate that, Mr. Rosenfelt’ – her gaze flickered to Cord and back – ‘but if Yarmini is involved, he may be in deeper than rape and murder. He may be involved in a sex trafficking ring.’