“We’re decent.”
Opening the door, I stuck my head inside. “If the woman that was taken was just a visitor, then no one would have reported her missing.”
Dave sat up and groaned. “Okay. I’ll give the Carlisle another call right now.”
“I think we should go there. Not as easy to put us off if we’re standing there looking at them.”
“Now?”
“Can you think of a better time? I can go alone.” I lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Or Greg and I can do it if you’re too tired.”
“Give us five minutes.”
I turned away to hide the grin spreading across my face. “I’ll make some fresh coffee to take with us.”
Dave’s five minutes turned into fifteen, and we opted to leave Greg at the house in case we got tied up or Marcone showed up early.
“We got a plan?” Dave yawned and flipped on the windshield wipers. “Wish it would stop raining for a while.”
“I could tell them I’m looking for my sister and give a description.”
“Yeah, and what are you gonna say when they ask her name?”
“God, I hate this case.” I turned to stare out the window. “All right, we’ll barge in there, give a description, and at least find out if they have a guest who matches it.”
“Maids would have checked rooms every morning anyway. Should have some reference as to whether a guest was there or not.”
“Maybe.” I turned to stare out the passenger window, guilt eating me up inside. “We should have turned it in that there might be a missing woman. If she dies, it’s on us.”
“If she dies, it’s on Park.”
I jerked around. “What do you mean?”
“Greg told Park about it, and when he asked for his source, he told him it was one of the prostitutes working the area. Park chose to ignore it and not follow up. Which is probably why the Carlisle never called me back with anything.”
“Did he tell him about the police officer?”
Dave nodded. “Pissed Park off.”
I rubbed my right temple, my head beginning to ache as chaotic thoughts attempted to culminate into something useful. “As much as I hate to admit it, I understand Park’s attitude on this one. If she wasn’t a prostitute and no one has reported anyone missing, then it’s not a case the department can get involved with. And the person who allegedly saw the incident isn’t around to confirm anything. For all we know, Ginger lied to dupe us out of a couple of hundred dollars.”
Dave slowed as we neared the motel. “You believe that?”
“No, but we’re on the streets. We see things Park will never see, and we listen to people. We both know Ginger was right about Emily. If she’d reported the rape, an officer would have stopped by, took a report, maybe even talked to Worthington, and that would have been the end of it.”
Taking a slot near the front, Dave parked and cut the engine. “Can’t believe you’re taking up for Park.”
I laughed and unhooked my seat belt. “Me, either. They say with age comes wisdom.”
“How do you want to handle this?”
“You made the original call, so I’ll let you do the questioning. We’re following up on an anonymous tip.”
The Carlisle was what I called a mid-range motel. Not so expensive that middle-income visitors would be put off, and yet expensive enough to keep out the riff-raff. Definitely not a place men brought hookers to for a few hours of perverted entertainment. “Didn’t Ginger say Cotton and several girls were working these corners?”
Dave nodded and held the door for me. “That’s what she said.”
“I didn’t see anyone as we drove in, and it’s late enough, they should be out by now.”
“Maybe the kidnapping scared them off.”
The lobby was empty, and the girl behind the desk glanced up as we entered. She smiled and started her speech. “Welcome to the Carlisle. How can I help you?”
“Detective Dave Capello and Detective Kacy Lang. We need to speak with your manager.”
“One moment, please.” She continued to smile as she poked a button on the phone. “There’s two detectives here to see you, sir. Yes, sir.” She replaced the receiver. “If you’d like to have a seat, Mr. Spencer will be with you in just a moment.”
We eyed the uncomfortable-looking couch and chairs spread out around the lounge area. Fortunately, Spencer showed up before we had to make up our mind. There must be some rule that motel employees smile constantly.
The man approaching was in his mid-fifties, with gray just beginning to show around the edges of his short hair. He greeted us with a firm shake and huge smile. “William Spencer. You wanted to see me?”
I glanced to where the desk clerk was leaning forward in an attempt to hear every word. “It might be better if we did this in private, Mr. Spencer.”
He shook his head, eyes darkening, but the smiled never wavered. “I can’t tell you anything more than I told the officer who called before. Without a court order, I can’t give out information concerning a guest.”
“Even if her life may be in danger?” I held his gaze until he glanced away.
“My hands are tied.”
“If we describe her, could you at least tell us if you have a visitor here who fits that description?” My voice was rising, and I took a deep breath. “This woman’s life depends on it.”
Spencer shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
Dave started to speak, and I nudged him with my foot. “Thank you, Mr. Spencer.” I nodded for Dave to follow me and headed toward the elevator.
“Where are we going?”
“Mrs. Wallins is staying in room 314. She may be able to help us.”
“Good thinking.”
The elevator was clean, but my heart started pounding as soon as the doors closed, and only when they reopened did I realize I’d been holding my breath. “It’s after eleven. I hope she’s still awake.”
We followed the numbers to 314, and I knocked softly. The door was opened almost immediately.
“Detective Lang, have you caught him yet?”
The hope in her voice was heartbreaking, and I shook my head. “Could we come in for a minute?”
“Of course.” She opened the door wide, and Dave and I stepped into the room. “I was going to call you today. I’m worried about my friend.”
“Your friend?” I watched her close the door, a river of ice flowing over me.
“Janice Stacy. She went out night before last and hasn’t returned. I told her to be careful, but you know how these young people are.”
Dave and I shared a glance, and he reached in his pocket for a notepad and pen. “Could you describe Miss Stacy for us?”
“Oh, dear, she’s about five foot two, slim, and in her twenties. She has dark-brown hair, green eyes.” She smiled softly. “Sometimes my mouth doesn’t want to cooperate with my brain. Spitting image of her mother. We became friends after her mother was killed.”
I was pretty sure I knew the answer, but I had to ask the question. “Who was her mother?”
“Why, Angela Stacy, the detective who investigated Mannie’s murder. Janice came down to join me as soon as she heard Carson was here.”
~ ~ ~
It was nearing one in the morning by the time we made it back to the house. Even with Mrs. Wallins’s information, the manager had refused to confirm or deny Janice Stacy was a guest. If we were lucky, we would be able to convince Park to seek a court order, but the odds of finding her alive were diminishing by the hour.
The clock struck three, and I gave up trying to sleep and made my way to the kitchen. The moon disappeared behind the clouds, and the room was totally dark until I flipped on the small light above the sink. My lips lifted as a board in the hallway creaked. “I hope I didn’t wake you.” I started the coffee and turned around. “We keep meeting for these late-night rendezvous, and people are going to talk.”
“People are already talking. I sleep more at your house than I do
at mine.” Dave pulled out a chair and flopped into it. “Martha and the girls are supposed to be home on Friday, but if this case is still up in the air, I’m gonna tell them to stay another week.”
“So what did Marcone say when you called him?” I faced the sink and grabbed two cups from the cabinet.
“Just said he’d see us tomorrow, which is now today.”
“Then what’s keeping you awake?” I placed a cup in front of him and opened a new box of doughnuts.
Dave sipped his coffee and pursed his lips. “I was thinking about what Greg said about twins. What if there was only one killer originally? He did the New Orleans murders and then, six months later, hit Massachusetts. We’re looking at Carson, so let’s assume he caught the killer, but instead of turning him in, used him for his own purposes. Carson kills the first detective, then waits three months and kills the second one. When Keisha’s case was taken over by the FBI, you came up on his radar. All he had to do was convince his accomplice to come here.”
“If he’s our Baykok connection, you’re probably right. I still don’t know how he knew about my birthday or why he’s using prostitutes.”
“Maybe Combs and Williams ain’t involved now, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t talk about you. Kurt and Katherine Lange were a big topic in the news after their deaths, along with articles on you and Kyle. They played you up to be a real heroine, and they put in the part about Crimson.”
“More guilt for me to carry.” I downed my lukewarm coffee and rose to refill my cup. “So exactly what are you planning on having my father do?”
“You like Carson for our suspect, and I trust your judgment. I believe he’s the one with the demon fetish. The other guy just likes killing, but he’s got a Christian hang-up and somehow is trying to justify his kills.”
“Greg made some notes for Myriah earlier.” I reached for the notepad. “He wants her to ask about the liver on the two detectives.”
“Smart guy.” Dave raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “Need to do something about that snoring problem, though, if he’s ever gonna get married.”
I stifled a yawn. “Maybe he’s like me, not the marrying kind.”
“Anything else on that notepad?”
“Just his thoughts on Carson having a twin. I still think if he had a twin, it would have come out in the investigation of Mrs. Wallins’s claims that he killed her daughter. It could be someone that looks enough like Carson that from a distance, she couldn’t tell.”
“And it could have been Carson. We need to ask Mrs. Wallins what time her daughter was kidnapped. It takes about six hours to drive from Washington to Springfield, but the flight is only a little over an hour. If he had access to a plane, he could have left long enough to kidnap her, and no one would have been the wiser when he came back.”
“That’s pretty far-fetched. Surely they would have considered that when they investigated.”
“You know how it works, Kacy. He’s FBI. Mrs. Wallins is old, it’s dark outside, and she’s traumatized, having just watched her daughter get kidnapped. How many times have you seen a good lawyer—or, for that matter, a cop—twist a witness’s words until they were unsure of what they’d seen?”
“She never wavers. She’s adamant it was Carson.”
Dave nodded. “Figured we’d ask Marcone to check out the killings in Massachusetts and Carson’s Washington stay. If it was him, there’s a trail out there somewhere, and we need to find it.”
As much as I hated involving my father, it was a good plan and would keep Carson from realizing he was on our radar for a few more days. If the killer was considering Janice Stacy his third kill, we were running out of time. “If Carson goes after strong women and warriors, I might have a way around him for a few days.”
“How’s that?”
“What if I lean on him? Ask him to teach me profiling and go all gaga eyed as if I’m hanging on to every word he says. If it works, he might even think he’s been wrong about female detectives and turn on his partner.”
Dave guffawed. “You really think you can pull that off? Hell, Kacy, you’ll wind up shooting him in a day.”
I placed a fist under my chin, tilted my head, and batted my eyelashes seductively. “Wow, I would never have seen that. We really need someone like you around all the time.”
Dave went into his Three Stooges act, laughing so hard tears were streaming from his eyes. “I gotta see this in action.”
“Looks like I’m missing the party.” Greg glanced from me to Dave before moving toward the coffee pot. “I could use a good laugh.”
Dave gasped for breath and pealed into another raucous roar. “Kacy’s gonna seduce Carson.”
His cup rattled against the sink as Greg whipped around, his irises tiny pinpoints and his jaw rock hard. “You’re going to do what? Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Greg—”
“I’m not finished, Lang.” He sounded so much like Park it was hard not to laugh.
“Excuse me, sir.”
“All we know about this guy is we suspect he’s involved in the murder of at least one woman, maybe more. Toying with him is one of the stupidest ideas the two of you have come up with.”
Definitely Irish blood somewhere in my veins. “Are you finished, Mr. Stevens?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “Leave Dave out of this. It was my idea. You walked in on the last part of a conversation without listening to the full plan.” I pointed my finger at him. “Which is a good plan. But since you think it’s ‘one of the stupidest ideas I’ve ever come up with,’ why don’t you point out my other faults?”
Dave cleared his throat. “Maybe we should bring it down a notch or two, guys. We start fighting amongst ourselves, and we won’t get anywhere.”
“I’m going to take a shower.” I stomped from the kitchen to my bedroom. My ideas are stupid, are they? The bedroom door took the brunt of my anger as I slammed it behind me. Tears pricked the back of my eyelashes as I rummaged through my dresser for clean underwear. Since Kyle’s death, anger brought on tears, which resulted in more anger and an aching desire to beat my fists against the wall and scream at the world. Entering the bathroom, I stripped then stepped into the shower stall. Take a deep breath and calm down. Turning on the water as hot as I could stand it, I stood beneath the shower head as Dave’s words flitted through my mind. “You’re a successful woman in a man’s world, Kacy. A lot of men might resent that.” Obviously, Greg was one of those men. The thought hurt more than I wanted to admit. I lathered up quickly and rinsed off. At least I found out before I really started to care about him.
Dragging my thoughts away from Greg, I finished my shower and dressed quickly. My father would be here today, and I still had a report to write if I wanted to convince Park and Carson that the killings were connected to my brother’s death. It might be hard to sell, considering the murders in New Orleans and Springfield, but it gave Carson the perfect opportunity to prove me wrong and change my mind. He’s one of those male chauvinists, so if I can control my temper, this might be fun.
The house was deathly quiet when I left the bedroom and made my way to the kitchen. Greg was standing with his back to the doorway, staring out the window over the sink.
“Where’s Dave?”
“He thought maybe we needed to talk. He decided to go home and check on his house.” Greg turned, his deep-blue eyes filled with pain. “I guess I need to apologize.”
“You guess? You’re damn right you need to apologize.” I made a beeline for the coffee pot. “I’m lead detective on this team, and if you don’t like that, then ask Park to reassign you.”
“I plan on doing that as soon as this case is over.”
My hands shook as I filled my cup. “Don’t let the case stop you. Dave and I can handle it. Dealing with Carson will be hard enough. I don’t need two alpha males to deal with.” I raised my cup and took a sip before meeting his gaze. “Some men can’t handle a woman being in charge.”
His eyes
darkened for a moment, and his hand tightened around the coffee cup before he slung it in the sink. “Is that what you think this is about?”
The anger in his voice should have stopped me, but the hurt inside was beginning to boil, and a strange desire was taking over. My eyes locked on his lips. “What else could it be?”
The coffee cup was jerked from my hand, and strong hands seized my shoulders as his lips descended, capturing mine in a soul-searching, bruising kiss.
I don’t date cops. The thought flashed through my mind as my lips parted and my hands suddenly had a will of their own, seeking his back and drawing him closer. The kiss softened, and his hands left my shoulders to grasp my hips, crushing them against him. Liquid fire. I wasn’t a prude. I’d had sex before. But no one had ever made my legs go weak and moans escape my lips.
Dishonorable Death Page 9