by Jana DeLeon
“I agree, but I’m not optimistic.”
“Neither am I. Take care, Ms. Archer.”
Shaye nodded and watched as he walked down the hallway toward the elevators. She had every intention of taking care. Of herself and of Madison.
She just had to figure out how.
14
Jackson looked up as Detective Maxwell stopped by his desk. “Take a walk with me,” Maxwell said.
Jackson popped up from his chair and followed Maxwell down the hall and into the break room. His current cases were at that point where it was all online research, phone calls, or random interviews, and they only required one person to do them. Grayson had been out all afternoon on interviews, and Jackson had stayed back to handle the online research and phone calls.
Some days one of them felt more confined in the office, and that’s the one who took the legwork. Today it was Grayson, which was fine with Jackson. It left him readily available for an emergency phone call should one arise, and centrally located in the French Quarter where he could get most places quickly. And it allowed him to work on his side project—creating a list of birth records for the time frame surrounding the sale of Shaye’s baby. Then he’d create a list of adoption records and they’d have a starting point.
In the break room, Maxwell started a new pot of coffee and waited until two other cops cleared the room before speaking.
“I just interviewed Madison Avery,” Maxwell said. “I assume you know what happened to her today?”
Jackson nodded.
“And that Shaye intends to remain on the case?”
“I didn’t expect anything different.”
“Neither did I, but I have to tell you, this one worries me. I know she’s dealt with some harsh stuff…is she ready to do it again? Because this guy, taunting Madison on the street like that. That’s a whole different level.”
“I know, and I’ve been grinding my teeth ever since Shaye told me what happened, but on that end of things, there’s nothing I can do. Shaye is determined to help Madison, and I get it. Shaye spent a lot of years walking the streets of New Orleans not knowing if she was standing next to the man who abused her. She’s not going to let another woman go through that. Not if she thinks she can make a difference.”
“I get it. And I don’t blame her. I just wanted to make sure everyone was on the same page as to the severity of this.”
“Oh, I’m definitely there.”
Maxwell nodded. “I’ve already asked for additional resources. I haven’t had a new partner assigned, but the brass agreed to give me two men gunning for a detective badge to help with the legwork. And they also said they’d increase patrol presence around Madison’s building and maintain a unit within five minutes or less for a week. After that, it will be a day-to-day decision based on need.”
Jackson felt a bit of tension leave his body. “That’s something, at least. I didn’t figure they’d do anything.”
“Ha. Well, you can thank Shaye for that one. When I told them the target was a client of Shaye’s they jumped right on the additional help bandwagon.”
“They don’t want her making them look bad.”
Maxwell grinned. “And I figured that would be the case, which is why I made sure to mention it.”
Jackson smiled, his respect for the young detective shooting up another notch. “Well played. And I appreciate it.”
“I know how worried I’d be if it was my lady in the middle of this. Hell, shit like this makes me really glad she’s a florist. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I’m doing everything I can to keep Madison safe and track down this psycho before he can terrorize her again.”
“Let me know if you need anything. Even off the record.”
“I will, and thanks for trusting me with this. Grayson could have pulled rank since you guys got the call on the body.”
“We both know that would have caused problems this department doesn’t need, but I’ll be the first to admit it’s killing me.”
Maxwell patted him on the back. “I’m going to find this guy. And I’m going to take him down.”
He poured his cup of coffee and headed out of the break room. Jackson leaned back against the counter, his mind overloaded with all the potential scenarios running through it, and none of them good. He believed Maxwell would do everything possible to find the killer.
He just hoped everything possible was enough.
Shaye closed her laptop and looked at the television. The news had come and gone with no mention of the investigation but she still hadn’t decided whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Probably it didn’t matter in the big scheme of things at all, but she wondered if an open investigation would push the killer to close in on Madison quickly. Perhaps force him to take a chance he wouldn’t otherwise. That risk might be the opening they needed to catch him, but she hated to think of Madison as a sitting duck.
So she’d gone through all the facts with Jackson earlier that night and they’d talked them through until they were both hoarse. Unfortunately, the identity of the killer hadn’t magically appeared for either of them, nor had an easy way to track him down. Normally when someone was murdered, you tracked backward to identify the people who had access to them, but with the victims being working girls, it made things difficult as it was an anonymous cash sort of deal, and the streets they chose to work tended to be camera-free. Even looking based on proximity was an issue because a man cheating on his wife with prostitutes would drive across town for such a transaction to ensure he wasn’t spotted by anyone he knew.
If the girls she’d already talked to had any idea who Carla was with that night, they would have shared it with Shaye. But he’d been smart. He’d probably waited until Carla was alone and then made his move when no one was watching. The question was, had he picked Carla specifically, or had he set up the apartment, then gone looking for a victim? If Carla was a random selection based on opportunity, it made identifying her killer next to impossible. Especially since he was smart enough to leave no forensic evidence behind.
Stalking Madison was the one mistake he’d made. He was exposing himself in a way that wasn’t necessary. If he’d simply taken a shot at her, Shaye would have understood, but this toying with her made no sense. Every time he was within eyeshot of her, he ran the risk that she saw him and called the police. At least, that should be his line of thinking as he didn’t know about Madison’s disorder.
Or did he?
She frowned. Was she making an assumption that was incorrect? Property records were public, so finding out her name based on her apartment address wouldn’t be difficult. She grabbed her laptop and did a search for Madison Avery. There were several articles about her parents and their charitable and political contributions and events, and then she saw it…a small article in the health section of a local newspaper about living with prosopagnosia. She sucked in a breath.
He might know.
And if he did, that changed everything. Because if he knew she couldn’t identify him and was toying with her anyway, then this wasn’t about eliminating a witness.
It was about finding a new victim.
Shaye pulled on her tennis shoes, jumped up from the couch, and grabbed her keys. She had planned on taking the night off and getting some sleep as she’d been short on it the night before, but no way would she be able to sleep now. Not with that thought racing around her mind. First, she’d go talk to the night manager at the motel and see if he could provide her any information, then she’d see if she could find Shonda and Louise again. She knew Detective Maxwell would try to talk to them eventually, but doubted he’d head there tonight. So far, Carla’s murder wasn’t public, and Shaye didn’t want Shonda and Louise finding out that way. It was best if they heard it from her.
The streets were starting to empty out so the drive to the motel went quickly. The only sign of activity Shaye saw there was the flashing Vacancy sign out front. A single light burned in the office, and she parked in front of it a
nd knocked on the door. That’s when she noticed the sign in the window.
Back in 15 minutes.
Since she had no idea if that fifteen minutes had started ten minutes ago or one, she climbed back into her SUV to wait. About ten minutes later, she saw a middle-aged guy walking up the sidewalk to the office. She waited until he started to unlock the door before climbing out of her SUV and following him inside.
“Daily, weekly?” he asked as he stepped behind the counter.
“Neither,” she said, and gave him her card. “I’d like to ask you some questions, if you don’t mind. Ray said it would be okay.”
“Oh yeah, you’re that PI. He told me you came by here today looking for Carla. I’m Walter. Did you have any luck?”
“I’m afraid not,” she said, not wanting to reveal Carla’s murder until the police did. “That’s why I’m here now. I know it’s a long shot, but if there’s anything you can tell me about her—if you saw her with anyone, overheard her talking—anything at all that might help me track her down, I’d appreciate it.”
“I thought about it for a while after Ray told me—not much else to do up here sometimes—but I couldn’t come up with anything. I wish I could. Carla is nice and never any trouble, but she keeps to herself and that makes it hard to know much about her.”
“So you never saw her with anyone?”
He shook his head. “The only people she’s ever talked to here that I’m aware of was me, Ray, and Casey, the weekend night manager. And like I said, she wasn’t much for lengthy conversations. Just the usual ‘how ya doing’ and kept going. A couple times when she’s been here she dropped off payment late at night, but she hasn’t been by this time at all.”
“Did you see her leave for work at night?”
“Sometimes, but not often. Being at the opposite end of the motel and night, you don’t really pay much attention to one person walking away. I sometimes saw her when I was making rounds, or if I was out handling a complaint.”
“Do you remember the last time you saw her?”
“Not specifically. It was last week sometime. Two guys got into a fight in room 9 around two a.m. and she stuck her head out, probably to see what was going on. I waved and told her it was all over and she nodded and closed the door. That’s the last time I recall seeing her.”
“Thanks. If you see or hear anything, please give me a call. Doesn’t matter what time.”
“Sure. I wish I could help. I know Ray’s worried something happened to her and he doesn’t get worked up over things, so I figure it’s serious.”
“It is. Hey, I didn’t think to ask Ray, but do you know where I might find the weekend night manager—I’m not asking for his home address but maybe he has another job? Somewhere that I could find him tomorrow instead of waiting until the weekend?”
“He works for a furniture delivery company during the day. First Rate Delivery, I think is the name of it. They delivered my sofa. Not sure how easy it would be to find him though, as he’s one of the drivers.”
“Maybe not, but it doesn’t hurt to try. What’s his last name?”
“Dugas.”
“Thanks for your help. You have a nice night.”
“You too.”
She turned and started for the door.
“Wait,” he said.
She turned back around and he shuffled, looking a little nervous. “Look,” he said. “Normally, I wouldn’t tell anyone this but you’re not just anyone, and I don’t think he’ll mind.”
“Don’t think who will mind?” Shaye asked, completely confused.
“Casey. He lives in one of the rooms here. His apartment got sold to one of those condo developers a couple months back so Ray told him he could stay here until he finds something else. Discounted rate, of course.”
“That’s nice for Ray to do.”
Walter nodded. “He’s a nice guy. He doesn’t take any crap, but he’s the first to lend a hand if you’re doing all the right things and just need a boost, you know?”
“I know some people like that.”
“Well, anyway, Casey stays in room 108. I saw him come in a little while ago. Not sure if he’s still there.”
“I’ll check, and thanks for the information.”
“Good luck, and let us know if you find Carla.”
“I will.”
Shaye exited the office and walked up the stairs and down the walkway until she located room 26. She knocked on the door and waited. Several seconds later, she heard footsteps and the door swung open.
“What’s wrong, Walter?” he asked.
The man staring out at her was in his twenties, with brown hair and green eyes. He blinked several times and then frowned. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else. Can I help you?”
“I hope so. My name is Shaye Archer. I’m a private investigator, and I’ve been commissioned to find Carla Downing.”
“Carla? The uh…lady who rents here?”
“Yes.”
“She’s missing?”
“I’m afraid so. Can you tell me the last time you saw her?”
“Oh wow, let me think. The weekend job throws off my sleep and the days are starting to run together.” He blinked again and scrunched his brow. “It was last week. The day I had a late delivery of that damned red couch. Tuesday. It was Tuesday. Wouldn’t fit through the door and I had to take the whole thing off the hinges. By the time I turned my truck in it was really late, maybe ten or so. Carla was getting into a car when I got here.”
“A taxi?”
“I don’t think so. It could have been one of those Uber cars, I guess.”
“You didn’t recognize the car?”
“Not that I know of, but you can find a white Corolla on just about any street.”
Shaye nodded. Jackson had chosen a white Corolla for his surveillance car for exactly that reason.
“And you never saw her again after that?” Shaye asked.
“No, but she wasn’t much of a talker, and I usually pick up dinner on the way home and settle down for a night of television. You said she’s missing? Do you think something happened to her?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to find out.”
“That sucks. I didn’t know her well but she seemed nice. Always said hello, which is more than most people do even when I’m carrying furniture in their houses.”
“Did you ever see Carla with anyone?”
He shook his head. “No. But like I said, I didn’t see her that often. Even when I’m working weekends, it’s hard to see that end of the motel from the office.”
“No one ever called for her or came by and asked for her?”
“Not while I was working.”
Shaye nodded and handed Casey one of her cards. “If you think of anything, please give me a call.”
“Sure. Hey, you think she’s all right?”
“I hope so.”
Definitely not on this earth, but hopefully somewhere, life was better for Carla Downing.
15
Shaye headed back to her SUV, somewhat disappointed. It didn’t appear that the motel employees could tell her much about Carla. She seemed to have adopted a very private and quiet lifestyle—which Shaye could appreciate if she was truly trying to make a break from Rattler. And neither of the managers looked to be a good fit for the killer. Walter was too old and too heavyset to fit Madison’s description, and while Casey’s description fit, he would have been working the office at the time Carla was killed.
She guided her SUV down the road to where she’d found Shonda and Louise, mulling over the reported change in Carla’s behavior. Shonda had said that Carla stayed at the motel when she was done with Rattler but always went back. Ray had confirmed that but this time, she’d paid for a month instead of just a couple days or a week as before. Why would she part with that much cash up front unless she really intended to change something? Granted, Ray said he would have refunded her the unused funds, but she’d still put a dent in her wallet to shell o
ut a month’s rent.
Why was this time different from the last?
Something else she’d noticed was a lack of drugs or booze in Carla’s room. Maybe she had run out, but nothing in the trash cans indicated that she’d been using or drinking either. More things that were inconsistent with people’s description of the woman’s lifestyle. It appeared that Carla really was making some changes. Had those changes somehow put her in the killer’s sights? Or was she simply a convenient, random choice?
Shaye turned onto the street she’d spotted Shonda and Louise on before and saw them standing at the corner. The street was lined with cars, probably in one of the many bars in the area, so she pulled around and found a space a block away. When Shonda saw her approaching, she pushed herself away from the lamppost she’d been leaning on and watched as she crossed the street.
“You find out anything?” Shonda asked.
“Yes,” Shaye said, “but it’s not good news.”
Louise sucked in a breath. “Oh my God, she’d dead. I knew it. That asshole Rattler killed her.”
“She’s dead,” Shaye said, “but I don’t know who did it.”
“Did you talk to Rattler?” Shonda asked.
“I did, but I have to be honest, I don’t like him for this.”
“Because that other girl is missing,” Shonda said. “Yeah, if it was just Carla, I’d put my money on Rattler any day of the week, but I don’t see him out killing random girls.”
“Maybe it was two different guys,” Louise said. “Rattler killed Carla and somebody else got the other girl. Wait—is she dead too?”
“At the moment, she’s just missing,” Shaye said, “but I went through her apartment and it doesn’t look good. She hasn’t been there in a while but the money and drugs she hid are still there.”
“I think we all know what that means,” Shonda said. “Ain’t no hooker leaving money or drugs behind. Even if she stopped using, them drugs would fetch some money on the street.”
Louise nodded.
“Was she killed like your client say?” Shonda asked.