by Kat Martin
His interest stirred. “The cause of death in the first homicide was blunt force trauma, not strangulation, but the killer used a wooden bat of some kind.”
Dr. Chow nodded. “Yes, it could have been some kind of bat or club.”
“So there could be a connection between the cause of death of both victims,” Kate said.
“It’s possible. It’s certainly something the police will be interested to know.”
And so was Jase. Two dead women. Two bat-like weapons used to kill them. Or the same weapon used two different ways.
“From what I noted in the Dallas case file,” the doctor continued, “there were ligature marks on the wrists and ankles of both victims and evidence of repeated sexual assault.”
“You mean rape?” Kate asked.
“Those kinds of injuries, yes. Some were fairly old. I would say our victim was likely a prostitute.”
Kate’s fingers tightened on the leather purse in her lap, but she managed to keep any show of emotion off her face. “Jason thinks the women could be victims of a sex trafficking ring.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” Dr. Chow said. “You need to speak to Detective Edward McKenzie in the homicide division. He’s in charge of the case.”
Jase had met the guy once. McKenzie wasn’t a fan of bounty hunters in general, but he’d been grudgingly willing to exchange information when he thought there was some payback for him in return.
Jase stood and so did Kate. “We’ll make that our next stop. Thanks for your help, Dr. Chow.” They both shook the doctor’s hand before they left the office.
It was late in the day by the time Detective Edward McKenzie managed to carve out some time for them. McKenzie agreed to meet them at a Mexican restaurant called the Thorny Cactus, downtown on the Riverwalk.
By five thirty, the after-work crowd was swelling inside the bar, patrons trickling in from the famous walkway that ran beside a winding channel off the San Antonio River. After the Alamo, it was the city’s most famous landmark.
As they traveled the concrete walkway beside the channel, an endless stream of excursion boats filled and dumped passengers at various stops along the route. Even on a hot, sticky mid-May day like this one, the Riverwalk crawled with tourists.
They stepped inside out of the heat. Recognizing McKenzie, Jase set a hand at Kate’s waist, guiding her through the crowd to a booth off to one side upholstered in a serape-style, striped, multicolored fabric. Bright piñatas hung from the ceiling, and Mexican music played in the background.
McKenzie looked past the shot of whiskey in front of him, and spotted Jase walking toward him. He was off duty, the meeting unofficial. McKenzie was divorced and balding. He practically swallowed his tongue when he saw Kate.
The detective slid out of the booth and extended his hand to her. “I’m Detective Edward McKenzie.”
“Kate Gallagher.”
“I understand your sister was also a victim of murder. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Kate slid into the opposite side of the booth.
“McKenzie.” Jase slid in beside her.
The detective smiled sardonically. “Heard about your little fiasco with Randy Harding up in Waco. Another dead guy added to your body count, Maddox?”
“I guess you missed the part where I wasn’t the guy who shot him. Not that he didn’t deserve it. You might check with Rosa Diaz on that.”
McKenzie just grunted.
A smiling Latina waitress arrived with a basket of tortilla chips and a couple of menus. Jase handed the menus back. “Maybe later.” The server whirled away in a flurry of orange gathered skirts to take care of another customer.
McKenzie snagged a chip. “So you’re investigating a murder in Dallas you think might be connected to the one we have here.”
“That’s right. Your ME more or less confirmed it. Same tattoo, same location behind the vic’s left ear. Murder weapon either the same or similar.”
“Are you thinking we might have a serial?”
“I guess it’s possible. Considering the tats, I’m thinking it’s more like trafficking. Some kind of brand that signifies ownership. Restraints used on the vic’s hands and feet. Any evidence of anything like that going on in San Antone?”
McKenzie frowned. He took a sip of whiskey, then shook his head. “Nothing I’ve heard about. I’ll make a point to look into it, though. You say the murder weapon was the same in both cases?”
“The same or similar. A bat or club of some kind, wooden in the first case, unknown here, but used to kill in different ways. First vic died of blunt force trauma not strangulation.”
“I need to take a look at the Dallas file. Who’s the lead on the case?”
“Detective Benson.”
“I know Roger. I’ll get in touch. Anything else?”
“Where did they find the woman’s body?” Kate asked softly.
“Couple of miles out of town, next to a dumpster behind a fleabag motel in Prospect Hill called The Padre. Lot of prostitutes hang out in the area. CSIs checked the place over, didn’t come up with anything useful.” He kept his gaze on Kate. “Anything else you’d like to know?”
“Yeah, there is,” Jase said, drawing his attention. “I’d like to know if the girl was a local or if she came here recently from somewhere else.”
“We knocked on doors, talked to folks in the neighborhood. She was known in the area as Darcy. No last name. One of the prostitutes said she hadn’t been in the neighborhood long. No criminal record for soliciting, but she was clearly working the streets. I’d say she probably wandered in from somewhere else.” McKenzie downed his whiskey and set the glass back down on the table. “That it?”
“Appreciate if you’d let me know if you turn up anything else.”
McKenzie didn’t look enthused. He slid out of the booth. “I suppose I can do that. Long as you do the same for me.”
“Deal.”
McKenzie reached for his check, but Jase plucked it off the table. “It’s on me,” he said.
McKenzie actually smiled. “Thanks.” He sauntered across the room toward the exit, leaving them alone at the table.
Jase leaned back against the booth. “We’ve got two choices. We can head back to Dallas. Or we can have a couple of margaritas, spend the night and do a little more digging in the morning.”
“You think we might come up with something more?”
“Probably not.” He smiled. “But I don’t fly after I’ve been drinking, and I could sure as hell use a margarita.”
Kate laughed and the sound slipped right through him. He wished he could make her laugh more often.
“I vote for staying,” she said. “We can’t do anything more until tomorrow, anyway.” She reached out and snagged a chip. “But instead of a margarita, I think I’ll have a straight shot of tequila.”
Jase laughed. Damn, he liked this woman.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
They took the night off. Finished their drinks at the Thorny Cactus, then checked into an Embassy Suites just around the corner from the Riverwalk. Kate figured a big guy like Jason needed room to move around, which the suite provided, plus they could set up their laptops in the living room and do a little work before they drove out to The Padre Motel.
Once they were settled, they walked back downtown to a small country-western bar Kate had noticed earlier. A few more drinks, then the band started playing. Kate danced to half a dozen songs with Jason, who for a big guy was surprisingly good. She couldn’t remember having a better time.
Made even better by the passionate lovemaking back at the hotel, followed by a deep, dreamless sleep.
It was scary, Kate thought the next morning, how well the two of them fit.
Not that Jason would see it that way. Maddox wasn’t the kind of guy who’d be interested in any kind
of ongoing relationship. Kate had known it from the moment she had seen him lounging against the wall of the saloon like a big handsome lion on the prowl.
Kate got up from her laptop as he ambled out of the bedroom, ready for their trip to the crime scene.
“Too bad you didn’t bring your hooker outfit,” he teased, checking out her dark blue jeans and bright pink tank top.
“Guess regular clothes will just have to do,” Kate said.
“Trust me, honey, as good as you look, you’ll have half the johns in Prospect Hill trying to buy a night.”
Kate grinned.
The Padre Motel could have been in Old East Dallas—same seedy neighborhood, same seedy clientele. She noticed Jase staying close to her as they knocked on doors, visited nearby businesses, and talked to people in the area.
Late in the morning, they got lucky. A heavyset black woman named Bessie who worked at a nearby mini-mart remembered the murdered girl.
“Darcy.” Bessie propped a thick hand on her ample hip and took a drag on her cigarette. “That was her name. Used to buy smokes in here, come in ’bout every other day. She hadn’t been ’round here long, just a couple of weeks. She was lonely so we talked some.”
“You know where she came from?” Jase asked.
“You a cop?” the woman asked, squinting at him through a wandering tendril of smoke.
“Bounty hunter,” Jase said.
“Uh-huh. You hunting her killer?”
“Yeah.”
Bessie nodded her approval. “She said somethin’ once ’bout Houston. Said she’d had a real bad time of it there. Said not to say nothin’. She’s dead now, so I guess it don’t matter.”
“You tell the cops?”
“I don’t like cops.” She leaned back against the counter. “I hope you find that shit bird who killed her.”
“Don’t worry,” Kate said. “We will.”
* * *
Jase’s cell phone rang just as they pulled into the rental-car lot at the airport. He grabbed it and checked the screen. “It’s Tabby.” He parked the Mustang and put the phone on speaker. “What’s up, Tab?”
“I never got the location of Tina Galen’s last call, but I figured you’d want to know the phone was purchased in Houston.”
“Houston.” Jase flicked a glance at Kate. “Looks like the second victim may also have a connection there. That’s good work, Tab.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know if I turn up anything else.”
The line went dead, and Kate’s gaze found his across the console. “Looks like we’re going to Houston,” she said.
“Looks like.” Leaving the keys in the ignition, he cracked the car door and they climbed out into the afternoon heat.
“Are we leaving from here?” Kate asked as they walked toward the plane.
“If that works for you.”
“I’ve got my carry-on. That’s all I need. Where do we start looking once we get there?”
“I know a couple of people who might be able to help.”
Kate smiled. “You always know a couple of people.”
Jase grinned. “Comes in handy sometimes. I need to make some calls, get things rolling.” Since it was hotter inside the plane than outside, he stood in the shadow cast by the wing and went to work, sending texts, calling informants, setting the wheels of information-gathering in motion.
By tonight, he hoped to locate someone who could give him a line on what was happening on the streets in the underbelly of the city.
While he worked, Kate phoned her office. Jase could hear her going over details with her team and answering questions. He phoned The Max to let Mindy know he wouldn’t be in for a day or two and to give Chase an update on the case.
The good news was Garrett Resources, being an oil and gas company, had offices in a building on the Houston Energy Corridor. The company kept a couple of apartments there for staff and clients coming into the city to do business. Chase offered to let them use one.
“I’ll find out which unit’s available and call you back,” Chase said. “The West Houston Airport’s closest. If you land there, you can borrow one of the company cars.”
“I’m liking this deal,” Jase said, smiling. He ended the call and turned to Kate. “Looks like we’ve got a place to stay.” He opened the door on the copilot’s side and helped her climb into the seat. “Thanks to Chase, we’ve got the use of an apartment not far from the airport.”
“Wow, that’s great.”
While Jase completed his visual inspection, Chase phoned back with the info. A little over an hour later, the plane landed at the West Houston Airport, where a pair of black Range Rovers sat side by side in the parking lot.
Jase matched the license plate number to the info Chase had given him and found a set of keys inside. From the airport, he drove to a three-story apartment building at an address on Briar Forest Drive. The furnished unit had hardwood floors, granite kitchen counters and lots of windows, which pleased Kate. Him? Not so much.
As soon as they were settled, they both set up their laptops and started digging for information. Beginning with the Houston Chronicle, Jase read crime reports, public arrest records, anything to do with murder, rape, gun crimes, assault and particularly prostitution.
He had picked up enough bail skips in the city over the years to be familiar with the high crime areas. Sunnyside was the roughest, with the sixth highest crime rate in the nation. The southwest side had a lot of gang-related activity, mostly at night. Areas in the Third Ward near the university could be very bad news.
A story about an undercover sting the cops called the Easter Bunny raid caught his eye. Twenty johns picked up in various locations over a period of a couple of weeks. The police were looking into the possibility that some of the women were trafficked.
He needed to follow up, talk to someone in the department, see what he could find out.
He was following a link to a drug bust when Paulo Diaz returned the call Jase had made to him earlier. Paulo owed him for getting his sister out of a jam. Jase wasn’t shy about using whatever leverage he had to get the info he needed.
“I got a guy for you to talk to,” Paulo said. “He knows what is happening in town, who is doing what, where to get whatever it is you need. His name is Hector Moran. Hector owes me money. I told him you would pay for information. You pay him and he pays me. Works for both of us.”
“Sounds good.”
“He’s a little guy, skinny, with a tattoo of a skull on his cheek. He’ll meet you at a cantina called El Lagarto at midnight. It’s in the southwest on Acacia Street.”
El Lagarto. The Lizard. Southwest Houston. Not good. “I’ll find it. Thanks, Paulo.”
“You saved my sister. I do not forget.”
Jase scrubbed a hand over the roughness along his jaw. He hadn’t shaved that morning. Where he was headed, the hard look it gave him worked in his favor.
He shoved back his chair from the kitchen table. “That was Rosa Diaz’s brother, Paulo. He’s got a meet set for midnight with a guy who knows his way around. Southwest side. That’s a rough neighborhood. I don’t suppose there’s any way in hell I can keep you from going with me.”
Kate just smiled. “No way in hell,” she said.
Jase swore under his breath and left her sitting at the table.
* * *
El Lagarto sat in a run-down neighborhood that reminded Kate of Prospect Hill. Which reminded her of Old East Dallas. After a while, they all looked the same.
They were sad places and they were dangerous. She had known that, accepted it. Didn’t matter. She still wasn’t quitting.
Jase parked the borrowed Rover in a dark spot between a couple of beaters where it was less likely to be spotted. Kate had dressed down for the visit, in black jeans, black boots and a black T-shirt, no makeup, her hair in a single
braid.
Jason—no, Kate mentally corrected—Hawk Maddox looked like a real badass. Also dressed in black, his jaw rough with a dark growth of beard, he wore a black leather vest over a black T-shirt, the eagle tat on his powerful biceps daring anyone to give him any flak.
He set a hand possessively at her waist as they walked up to the bar. They surveyed the interior, both of them looking for a skinny guy with a skull tattoo on his cheek.
“He’s in the back left corner,” Kate said, spotting the guy sitting in the darkest part of the cantina.
Jase urged her in that direction. Both of them pulled out chairs and sat down.
“You’re Hector?” Jase asked, though there really wasn’t much doubt.
“Sí, and you are Hawk. A bounty hunter.”
“That’s right.”
His black eyes went to Kate in search of an introduction, but it never came.
A waitress appeared wearing too much makeup and a low-cut blouse. Jase ordered a couple of beers, and a shot of tequila for Hector, since his glass was empty. He paid for the drinks when they arrived.
“I need to know what’s happening on the street,” Jase said, his beer bottle untouched, just props so they wouldn’t stand out. “I’m looking for men running whores, someone involved in prostitution on a large scale. You heard about anything like that going on?”
Hector shot back his tequila. With a hiss, he set the empty glass back down on the table, the sound disappearing in the noise and chatter around them. “You are dealing with fire, Senor Hawk. No one speaks of it. No one who wishes to live. Be very sure you wish to know the answer.”
Kate ignored the chill that ran down her spine. Jase fanned three hundred-dollar bills out on the battered wooden table. Finding a killer was getting expensive, she thought, not that it changed anything.
Hector reached for the money, but Jase set his hand on the cash. “Tell me what you know.”