by Mary Stone
“I understand.”
“I knew you would.” I allowed myself a smile, thankful now I hadn’t taken that second shot so I could feel the anticipation of my plan being carried out.
Gabe poked his head in just as I hung up. He didn’t say a word, but simply waited to be invited in.
I let Gabe think the smile was for him. “Did you get the information from my client that I asked for?”
He nodded. “Updated in the system.”
“Are you through for the day?”
He took a step forward. “I can stay if you need me.”
“Whatever would I need you for?” I retorted with absolutely no inflection in my voice.
Pain flitted across his sweet face, but he didn’t sulk or fire back at me. A simple nod and he was gone.
He really was the very best.
I waited until I heard the turbo engine of his little sports car fire up outside the window. His world was so different now than it had been when I found him begging on the street corner. The cardboard sign in his hand had flopped in the wind, black marker dripping in the constant drizzle of the dreary fall day. Not a second of hesitation had shown on his face when I rolled down the window and told him to get in.
That day had changed his life. Mine too.
The fact that I delighted in hurting him should be obvious to him, but there were things Gabe craved more than my approval. A warm place to sleep and an endless supply of food was at the top of the list, surely. He’d never asked whose name his apartment was under, or who had the groceries delivered to his door. Being a kept man obviously agreed with Gabe. He never questioned me, and he never asked for anything more.
Another bit of perfection crossed my mind, so I dialed her number. Her voice was sweet, and despite her age, she sounded no older than a college freshman.
“I need your assistance,” I said when she answered.
“Anything.” She was breathless to do whatever I bid.
I explained briefly, and with every breath, I could hear her excitement growing.
“Shall I deal with Steve?”
I chuckled. “Not to bother. I have a consort dealing with that.”
She made a sound of disappointment. “Oh poo.”
“Patience, my sweet. You’ll have a prize of your own soon.”
Her giggle was soft, like gossamer wings. “I cannot wait.”
“What I need you for is far more important.”
“Yes?” I imagined her chest heaving, nostrils flared and eyes wide like an animated doll.
“You are such a delight. I need you to call this number and leave an anonymous tip.”
“That’s all?” She giggled again. From anyone else, the habit would’ve annoyed me like nails on the proverbial chalkboard.
“Our friend Steve has let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. I need you to throw Detective Kline off the case. Here’s what you need to do.”
She listened intently as I explained exactly what I needed her to say.
When I was done, she let out a quivering breath. “That sounds fun.”
“Good. No need to call back. I trust you’ll do what I need done in a timely manner.”
“Gladly,” she chirped, like a bird on a string.
“I look forward to our next endeavor together.” The little titter of joy that bubbled up from her delicate throat brought a smile to my lips. “And puppet?”
“Yes.”
“Do choose another name. Katarina has run its course.”
I didn’t need to wait for her answer to know she would do that exactly.
The building was quiet when I disconnected the call. I walked to the window and peeked through the blinds. The only car that remained in the lot was mine. Sleek and stylish, it was a sophisticated tan that whispered money rather than shouted it. Success without the fanfare. It was imperative that my clients see me as worthy of their trust without jealousy raising its ugly head. To achieve this was a delicate balance, but it was only one of the many careful ways I’d curated my image through the years. The quiet doctor with a warm smile and a kind heart who never earned a second glance when things went askew. The image was what made me so good at my job.
But I’d taken a chance I shouldn’t have, and the books in the locked drawer filled the room with the voices of the lost.
Taunting me.
Begging for my demise.
As if Ellie Kline had the slightest chance of finding me.
I knew I couldn’t keep the books in my office any longer. Sighing, I retrieved two collapsible storage boxes and sneezed when the cardboard dust made by the lasered cuts reached my nose. One by one, I loaded the books into the boxes until the drawer was empty.
Staring into the abyss that was now my drawer, rage filled me as quickly as a strike of lightning. I kicked the drawer front and it bounced on the hinges then slid to a close and locked on its own. Pain shot through my foot, but I ignored it. It wasn’t fair. First my trinkets, and now my scrapbooks. These would go in a safe at my home inside a hidden room. Even if they turned up in an investigation, having scrapbooks of murder victims didn’t link me to any crime.
Eventually you’ll have to destroy them, a voice nagged in the back of my head.
I grimaced, stacking the boxes on top of one another and taking the handles of the lowest box. By some miracle, all the books had fit perfectly, with room for another if Ellie proved to be more than two books could contain. Different colors, they were a rainbow of beauty and pain.
My muscles flexed beneath the fabric of my shirt as I carried the boxes out the door. Balancing them between my thigh and the wall, I fished in my pocket for my keys. When they fell to the floor, I cursed under my breath.
“I got it.” I nearly jumped out of my skin when the woman appeared from around the corner.
“Janice, hi,” I said, forcing the surprise and concern from my expression. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll manage.”
“Nonsense, let me help you.” She scooped up the keys and locked the door then shoved them into my pocket. “I’ll call the elevator for you.”
I held back a sigh, forcing a smile. “If only my real neighbors were as courteous as my office neighbors. What are you doing here so late? I didn’t see your car.”
“My husband dropped me off this morning and took it to get serviced.” Her grin was wide, eyes twinkling with sheer delight and endless optimism. I loathed her. “It’s one of the many perks of having a mechanic in the family.”
“I’ll bet.”
The elevator bell dinged, and she stuck her arm in front of the door to hold it. “I’m assuming you’re going down.”
“Of course.”
She stood between me and the door, looking over her shoulder to smile at me for no reason at all. I squeezed past her, and on the way down, every time the back of her head faced my way I imagined bludgeoning her right there and leaving her carcass on the floor. A chuckle escaped from me, breaking the silence and giving me a startle. I coughed to cover the noise but the dimwit didn’t seem to notice.
“Don’t you just love Mondays?” she gushed. “There’s something about a new week crammed with exciting possibilities that just makes me want to sing.”
“You’re a peach,” I lied.
The doors finally opened, and once again, Janice blocked the sensor, ensuring my safety. Just when I thought I was rid of her, her heels clicked behind me on the tile floors covered with far too many coats of wax. “There you go,” she announced as she squeezed by me to open the outer doors.
“Thank you, Janice.”
“I can get the trunk if you’d like.”
“No need. It’s operated by my foot.”
“That’s amazing. I wonder if my husband can have that installed in my car. Oh, that would sure help when I have too many things in my hands. There’s something about putting them down and picking them up again that makes them feel so much heavier, wouldn’t you say, and—”
“There he is right now.” It was a blis
sful moment as her car turned into the parking lot and there was silence for a moment.
“Right on time! I sure am the luckiest woman alive, but you know, he says he’s the lucky one.” Her dreamy smile made me want to vomit.
“I bet he is.” I wondered if her husband ever thought about having the mechanic “tweak” her brakes. “Well, thank you for the help.”
“No problem.”
I walked over to my car and swung my foot under the rear bumper. The trunk popped open, and I lowered the boxes inside carefully before snapping it closed. When I turned, Janice was only a few feet from me. I jumped and instantly hated her for it. “Can I help you?”
“I just wondered what you were taking home. I mean, are you supposed to take patient files home with you?”
“They’re not files. It’s research.”
“Oh.” She furrowed her brow, and her husband lightly tapped the horn to get her attention. “What kind of research?”
I forced my hands not to reach out and grab her around the throat. Giving a cheerful laugh, I said, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you. Isn’t that what they say in spy movies?”
Her mouth snapped shut, and for a moment I thought she was going to run to her husband in a panic. But then she threw her head back and emitted a sound that was somewhere between a braying donkey and a dying cat. Saliva clung to her buck teeth, and I imagined a million vile ways for her to die before she closed her gaping mouth and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“You’re so funny. I’ll have to remember that one.” She put her hands on her hips and wagged her head in a mocking fashion. “‘If I told you, I’d have to kill you.’”
Anger filled me, exploding out the top of my head, and blackness crawled around the edges of my vision.
Another tap of the car horn brought me back to reality.
But nothing surprised me as much as the quick hug around my neck she gave me before she bounded off like a wounded gazelle in her clumpy heels. Ungainly, tragic, and far too ugly to kill.
I raised a hand and waved to her husband. As he kissed her on the lips, I nearly gagged at the thought of her skin touching mine. The ride home would take far too long and the water would never be hot enough to rid me of the feel of her. I would have to try anyway. I needed her scent off me, even if I had to burn my clothes and scrub a layer of skin off to do it.
I wondered if she knew just how repulsive she was.
26
After Monday’s excitement, Tuesday was almost mundane. After visiting with her dad, and liking the new color in his cheeks, Ellie dragged herself into work on a dreary Wednesday morning that insisted upon spitting rain and turning cooler. The look on Jillian’s face said they were both feeling that midweek, no-new-lead slump.
“Should I pretend to be surprised that new information in this case led to another dead end?” Ellie asked with a wry smile that faded into a grimace. “I’m starting to wonder if Jones didn’t give up on this case with good reason. This is frustrating.” She sat down in her chair and kicked her foot to spin it around, head back, eyes closed. When it puttered to a stop just two turns later, she sighed and looked over at Jillian. “Any hits on the tip line we set up?”
“Not one. Social media is the same, though I’m not surprised about that.”
“Why?”
“Even anonymous names can be easily traced online through their IP address.”
“We can trace the phone calls too, but if they block their number or use a burner phone, we can’t. The paranoid ones will go to extra lengths to make sure they stay anonymous. People aren’t always willing to put themselves out there.” Ellie lifted her hands and let them fall back on the arms of the chair.
Jillian scrunched her lips and puffed out her cheeks. The air sent her thin bangs straight up where they hung for a minute before settling back on her forehead. “What about tracking down the others on the trip? Maybe we should try that?”
“I’m not sure what that would accomplish. No one knew each other, and Tabitha and Mabel never even made it on the plane. We could ask them about Katarina, but I’m not sure she exists.”
“You’re right about this being nothing but frustration. Two steps forward and ten back. It’s like every clue leads to nowhere.”
Ellie snorted. “Glad I’m not the only one feeling stuck.” Opening the top drawer of her desk, she pulled out the list Fortis had written for her. “I guess I could look at Fortis’s wish list.”
“Are you really going to admit defeat?”
“Of course not.” Ellie looked up sharply. “But there’s no use pounding our heads against a wall all day again. Yesterday was bad enough. We’ll set this aside, and I’ll look at another case while we wait for something to click.”
“I guess I could do my job,” Jillian said. “My backlog is basically nonexistent, but I have some things I can work on that are slightly more exciting than watching paint dry.”
“That’s the spirit. Glass half shattered and all that.” Ellie smirked at her friend, who she was beginning to think of as her partner in crime—or in fighting crime. God, she needed more coffee.
Jillian looked confused. “I believe you mean half full.”
“Whatever. I guess I’ll track down number one on Fortis’s list and see what’s in the box.” She stood up and was halfway across the room when her phone rang. “If that’s Fortis, can you tell him I’m in the cage working his list?”
Jillian spun in her chair and picked up the phone on Ellie’s desk. “Detective Kline’s desk. She’s in the evidence locker at the moment. Want me to grab her?”
Ellie gave her a thumbs-up as Jillian’s brow wrinkled.
Jillian nodded, then waved frantically for Ellie to come over. “Hold on, she’s right here. Go ahead and patch the caller through.” She smiled up at Ellie, almost giddy. “They got a tip. It seems like a strong lead.”
Ellie ran the last few steps and pressed the phone to her ear just as the caller came on the line.
“Hello?” a young woman’s voice said. “Detective Kline?”
“Speaking. Can I help you?” Ellie dug through the drawer for a pen and started to write on a blank page in the notebook. Nothing came out, so she flung the pen, grabbing another and scribbling a circle in the corner of the page until the ink flowed.
“I have information about the missing girls.”
“Tabitha and Mabel?”
“Yes,” the woman said, her voice breathy and fragile. Punching the button to raise the volume, Ellie still struggled to hear her when she continued. “They came to the plane for Ghana, but the man turned them away.”
“What was this man’s name?”
“Steve Garret.” The woman paused only for a second. “He told them their money was no good and they argued. I couldn’t hear everything, but they left and the one was crying.”
“How long was this before the flight took off?”
“Maybe one hour.” Her voice lowered, as if she were telling a secret. “Then they disappeared.”
“And you’re sure it was Mabel and Tabitha?”
“It was the girls in the picture online. I remember them very clearly.”
Ellie’s heart quickened. They hadn’t released Steve’s name. The lead felt good. “So, they fought with Steve, then the two of them disappeared.”
“No, not two. All of them.”
Ellie frowned, wishing the caller would be more specific. “All of who?”
“Steve and the two girls.”
Ellie caught Jillian’s gaze. “Steve went with them?”
Jillian’s mouth dropped open.
“There was a lot of yelling, then they calmed down after Steve said something to them.”
“What did he say?” Ellie tapped on the notepad, willing the woman to get to the details she needed.
“I couldn’t hear them, and I didn’t want to look like I was trying. But they nodded, and when he pointed to the door, they all went out together.”
“Did Steve come ba
ck right away?” Frustration welled up in Ellie, to know that this woman might hold the information they needed, if only she could have heard the conversation.
“I don’t remember when he came back. We boarded the plane a little bit later, but there was some mechanical issue. They left us on the tarmac for a long time, and I was so tired that I fell asleep. When I woke, the plane was about to take off. Steve was there and the girls were not. No one seemed to care, so I went back to sleep and didn’t wake up for hours.”
Jillian had moved to stand over her shoulder, reading the notes as Ellie recorded everything the caller was saying. When Ellie wrote the last part, Jillian gasped.
“Do you remember what Steve was wearing?” Ellie wanted to see if there was a possibility that his shirt was ripped or maybe dirty, but she didn’t want to lead the tipster and have her tell her what she thought she wanted to hear. She hoped her questions would jog the caller’s memory if there was a tear or some other sign the women had fought back. “Was it the same as what he wore when he first arrived?”
There was a long pause and then the woman’s soft voice was back. “I’m not sure. I didn’t really look at him. He made me uncomfortable. He flirted with everyone, and when I asked him to stop, he kept at it.”
Steve was starting to sound like a lot more than a harmless dopehead. “What about Katarina? Did she seem like she was flirting with him, or was it all on his end?”
“Katarina?” the woman repeated. “There was no one named Katarina.”
“There wasn’t? Are you sure?” Had Steve been lying?
“Yes, I’m certain of it. We all worked very hard together in Ghana, and I remember everyone from the trip. They became like sisters to me. There was no Katarina.”
“Can you tell me if Steve hung out with anyone in particular, then?” Ellie asked.
“Just another man, but he didn’t tell us his name.”
“A man in Ghana?” Ellie rapidly wrote that down, then realized how quick she was to grasp at leads, that was how badly she wanted this case solved. She would be crushed if she had to shelve her very first cold case as a detective.
“No, before we left. They were together every minute until the plane left, but the man didn’t come with us. When we flew home, the man was there again.” The woman sucked in a breath over the phone. “He was very quiet and a little odd.”