Sinful Deception

by Mel Comley

  Candy chewed on her bottom lip and stared at the door. From the gist of their conversation, she guessed Rico would not be willing to kill his brother, at least not yet. Val had said he was rich and powerful on both sides of the pond. There must be something about him online. Before she went any further with her plans, she needed to meet this Samael.

  ~

  Samael parked across from the trailer park, keeping a view of the Granger trailer as well as those close by. Few people could disappear into thin air, but apparently, Duke MacIntyre had. Frustrating. When he found MacIntyre, he would punish him before turning him over to Foxy.

  An image of Joshua and Selina Sims flashed in front of his eyes. Their sins were many, and although he’d enjoyed watching them swing from the rope, it wasn’t punishment. He’d given them an honorable death for their service. Punishment must be painful and last for days, weeks, or years to be an effective deterrent from future sins.

  Movement caught his eye, and he lifted the binoculars to watch a man leave the trailer next door to the Granger home. He turned in the seat to follow the man’s path as he climbed up on a box and peered through a window. A peeping Tom. There was always someone in every neighborhood who saw or heard something, but for crimes of their own, they never came forward. Samael continued to watch, then laughed when a shirtless man opened the trailer door and screamed, “Get the hell out of here, you pervert!”

  Samael dropped the binoculars and waited for the peeping Tom to return to his trailer. If the man told him what he needed to know, Samael would punish him only for his crimes. He glanced at the dashboard, settled into his seat, and waited for the trailer park to shut down for the night.

  He waited a full hour, snapped on his gloves, picked up the bag he’d prepared earlier, and walked toward trailer number twelve. The steps were badly in need of repair and squeaked loudly as Samael climbed them. The lights were off, and the trailer was silent. Not that it would have made much difference—anyone awake so late would think little of questioning a late-night visitor in this trashy neighborhood. Samael slipped a card into the doorjamb below the lock, pushed in and up, and turned the knob. The door swung open. Idiot. A peeping Tom should at least install a deadbolt.

  His eyes adjusted to the dark, homing in on the deep snores from the shabby sofa. The man was bigger than he’d appeared from a distance, and Samael wasn’t in the mood for resistance. He pulled a rag from his pocket, doused it with chloroform, crossed the room, and held it over the man’s nose and mouth. Samael retrieved his bag, removed the duct tape, and strapped the man’s arms to his upper torso and his legs at the ankles, knees, and below the hips. He always laughed when he watched a show where the victim’s ankles were tied, with the arms bound only at the wrist. Any fool could break that hold if given enough time.

  Samael wafted the smelling salts beneath the man’s nose. “Time to wake up, Tom.”

  His eyes widened, and he struggled to move. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Relax, Tom. I have a few questions for you.” Samael pulled out the scalpel. “I hope you give me the right answers.”

  “You got the wrong guy. My name ain’t Tom.”

  Samael laughed. “Of course it is. It’s Peeping Tom.”

  The first sign of fear appeared in the ocean-blue eyes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, mister. Told you, you got the wrong guy.”

  “The trailer next door, who lives there?”

  “Some chick and her daughter.”

  The scalpel slipped slowly down his cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood. “Who else?”

  “A guy comes there sometimes. Guess he was the mother’s boyfriend. Hell, might’ve been the daughter’s, too. Mother was trailer trash. Daughter was, too.”

  “And you liked to watch them, didn’t you, Tom?”

  “I might have peeked once.”

  The scalpel moved toward his face again.

  “All right—I watched them. They was always humping like a bunch of rabbits.”

  “And what about last night, or early this morning? Were you watching then?”

  He nodded and swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving up and down rapidly. “It was the daughter this time, her and some big ugly guy.”

  “What about the mother and the boyfriend?”

  “The big man, he carried them out and put them in the back of a truck. Then he went in and him and the girl got it on.”

  “Describe this big man to me.”

  “He was all scarred up on the right side of his face. Burned maybe, or some kind of accident. Didn’t seem to bother the girl much, though. She screwed his brains out.”

  Rico. Samael reached for the duct tape, tore off a strip, and applied it to Tom’s mouth. “You have to be punished for your sins, Tom.” Placing his hands on both sides of the man’s head, Samael pressed his thumbs into the man’s eye sockets, popping out the balls. He ignored the man’s screams. After one swift slice from the scalpel, he held them in his hand. “You used your eyes for evil, Tom, so I have taken your eyes from you. If you talk about tonight or tell the police anything about what you saw or heard, I will come back and take your tongue.” Samael dropped the eyeballs on the floor and crushed them with the heel of his boot. “Consider yourself lucky.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Alex rolled over, hit the snooze button then buried her face in the pillow. The team hadn’t broken up until after midnight. She didn’t think she had the strength for Dixie’s morning run, but a hot tongue lapped at her neck as a furry paw rubbed her shoulder. “I love you, too,” Alex mumbled then rolled over and hugged her pet. “Give me five more minutes, and I promise I’ll get up.”

  The last three days had felt like a month, and they were no closer to the truth than when they’d first started on Tuesday. Unless they found new evidence, Alex would be forced to concede that Durrell killed the last two girls, and the case would be closed. They were still clueless as to the location of MacIntyre and Granger, and with the disappearance of Mrs. Sims, it was beginning to appear more and more like they were victims, buried deep in some forest where they’d never be located. The only good thing that had happened was Sarah Jane and Bethany. She’d been shocked at first when Crimshaw had called his wife and insisted the girls go home with him. A much better plan than Reefer and Tamara’s. They hadn’t given a thought to what they would do with the girls while they worked. Crimshaw had told her once that Susan wanted children but couldn’t have any. They were looking at adoption, so maybe if everything went okay, the girls would have found a loving family, and Susan wouldn’t be so lonely with the long hours Crimshaw had to pull.

  Alex groaned again as the alarm clock beeped for the second time. A huge red X on the calendar caught her attention, and her heartbeat accelerated as she tossed off the covers. It was Friday—Nobby’s tests at the hospital. “Come on, Dixie; today’s going to be a great day.”

  ~

  Thirty minutes later, after a short run and a quick dash through the shower, she entered the kitchen just as the toaster popped up. “Good morning, Nobby. Today’s the big day. What time is your appointment?”

  “Don’t be so damn chipper. Ten, if everything’s on time. Who knows, if they’re running behind.”

  Alex grabbed a piece of toast. “You should go back to bed and grab a couple of hours. At least everyone went home last night.” She started to walk past him, stopped, and kissed him on the cheek. “Except me.”

  “You are home.” Nobby glared at her. “Blake should be out in a minute. Crimshaw called and said he’d pick you two up on the way in.”

  “If you won’t let me go with you, why don’t you take Blake? You know, company and all can be stress relieving.”

  “Don’t need no damn babysitter.”

  Blake walked into the kitchen. “Crimshaw’s out front and ready to go.”

  Nobby refused to meet Alex’s gaze.

  “You’ll call me, right?”

  “Yes, Momma, I’ll give you a call.”

  She
wasn’t sure she believed him, but Crimshaw was blowing his horn. “Tell him I’ll be right there, Blake. I just need to get my jacket.”

  Dixie barked as she walked into the bedroom, startling her, as did the slight beeping sound. The phone! Alex dug through her underwear drawer, removed the panel she’d set up to hide it, and extracted the cell the Escape Artist had given her. Why didn’t he tell me the damn thing beeped? What if Nobby had heard it or found it?

  “Hello,” she whispered as she crossed to the door and closed it.

  “I found your man, love. Not sure what condition he’s in. I’ll call you when I have him.”

  “What—”

  The line went dead.

  “Damn him.” She fiddled with the phone, looking for a power button or silencer. She’d never seen anything like it before. I’ll have to carry it with me. That was probably the bastard’s plan all along. The car horn blared again, and Alex picked up her jacket, blew Dixie a kiss, and rubbed Cinders’s ears. “You guys take care of Nobby for me, okay?”

  She glared at Crimshaw as she opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat. “What the hell is your hurry?”

  “Derek is waiting for us at the hospital to interview a guy they found with his eyes gouged out this morning.”

  “Shite! Doesn’t he have any officers to do that? We’re supposed to be the special investigations team. This sounds like everyday crime, and I think we’ve got enough on our plate already.”

  Crimshaw grunted. “I’d agree with you, and Derek would, too, except this guy just happened to be the next door neighbor of Granger and MacIntyre.”

  Alex turned to the window, the Escape Artist’s words spinning through her head. “I found your man, love.”

  ~

  “Matt Adams?”

  Nobby stood and walked toward the desk. “That’d be me.”

  “If you’ll follow me, Dr. Shah would like a word with you.”

  “That don’t sound good.”

  The nurse smiled at him but didn’t respond. She opened the door to a small exam room. “Have a seat, and she’ll be right with you.”

  He fiddled with his cell phone, looking through the pictures he’d taken over the last year of Alex, Dixie and Cinders. Damn it, I should have been prepared for bad news. I finally get a family and care, and now karma is gonna take it all away from me.

  The door opened, and Dr. Shah walked in. “How are you feeling, Matt?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  Dr. Shah placed his scan on a monitor and turned it on. “We’ll get a full report from the radiologist later today, but as you can see, the cancer is still spreading.” She glanced at a report and frowned. “I had the lab rush your bloodwork, and I have to admit, your CEA is down from last time, so I’d like to rerun that test on Monday before we make any final decisions.”

  “What’s a CEA test?” Nobby asked.

  “It’s a blood test that measures a certain protein tumors put off in the blood. It gives us a baseline for how the cancer is growing, or in patients who have had cancer before, it’s a signal the cancer’s returning. We use it to monitor how effective a treatment may be in certain types of cancer.”

  “So what was it last time?”

  Dr. Shah flipped through her chart. “A forty-three, which is about what you’d expect with stage-four cancer.”

  “And what was it today?”

  “It’s a thirty, but we have a new technician in the lab, and that’s why I’d like to run it again on Monday when Robert comes back. I can always trust his results.”

  Why the hell would you have somebody in the lab if you didn’t trust their work? “Couldn’t the scan be wrong and the blood test right?”

  Dr. Shah placed a hand over his. “You’ve been my patient for a long time, Matt. Huge advances have been made in treatments over the years. If we don’t start one soon, well…”

  “You’re talking about chemotherapy, and I done told you I ain’t doing that. I got a friend that’s been feeding me broccoli sprouts and some kind of juice. If the blood test is right, then maybe it’s working.” Nobby watched her face, expecting to see the scorn and disbelief most doctors showed for alternatives.

  Instead, she nodded. “There is ongoing research into the benefits of many cruciferous vegetables and cancer prevention. And some research shows the use of broccoli sprouts slowed tumor growth. We’re years away from finding the right amount or right mixture for a cure.” She stood and sighed. “Keep doing what you’re doing—it can’t hurt—and I’ll see you on Monday after your test results.”

  Nobby sat for a moment after the doctor left. Alex had been so full of hope this morning, and he hated to burst her bubble. He could put her off until Monday, but he would have to tell her eventually. Cancer sucks.

  The waiting room was almost empty when he walked out, except for the pretty little brunette who had been sitting there when he’d gone back to the exam room.

  She stood as he walked past her. “Excuse me, could I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure, what do you need?”

  “Are you leaving now?”

  “Planned on it. You need a ride?”

  She shook her head. “No, but would you mind if I walked out with you? I was visiting my brother, and this guy is giving me the creeps. I snuck in here hoping he’d leave, but I saw him again a few minutes ago. I need to get to work.”

  “Where is he?”

  The young woman hooked her arm through his. “I don’t see him now, but I’d feel much safer if you’d walk out with me.”

  “Come on, then. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “My name’s Candy, and you have no clue how much I appreciate this. These places are hard enough without this. Are you visiting someone?”

  Nobby shook his head. “Just a follow-up.”

  She stopped in the middle of the aisle and looked up at him. “Please don’t tell me you have cancer?”

  “Depends on who you ask. Messed up the tests, they said, so I have to come back Monday and do it again.” Nobby pushed open the door and let her walk through.

  “Well, you’re going to be fine. I have a way of sensing these things. There’s my car. Thank you so much Mr…?”

  “Adams. Matt Adams.”

  “Thank you again, Mr. Adams. Maybe I’ll see you Monday.”

  Nobby watched her until she was safely in the car. Pretty little thing. He turned and scanned the area. He still didn’t see anybody, but young girls couldn’t be too careful. Might as well call Alex and get it over with.

  She answered on the first ring. “Give me some good news.”

  “I gotta run a test on Monday, but it looks good. Where are you guys?”

  “Heading to HQ to meet with the chief. Are you coming in?”

  “Nah, think I’ll go home, catch a nap, and fix a good dinner for a change. Want me to take Dixie for a walk?”

  “That would be lovely. Hopefully, we’ll be home on time tonight.”

  “I’ll see you then.” Nobby opened the car door and tossed his phone on the passenger seat. He hadn’t lied to her, at least not too much. A nice quiet afternoon on the porch with Dixie and Cinders was the perfect way to end his week.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Where’s the chief?” Alex asked. “I thought he was meeting us here?”

  “You can put that over here,” Blake Morgan instructed the young officer pushing a huge whiteboard on rollers. “Chief Brown will be joining us later. For the next hour or so, we’ll be concentrating on what we’ve got, what we don’t have, and what we need to solve these cases.”

  “I don’t think what we’ve got is gonna take us long,” Crimshaw said. “So far we’ve got zilch.”

  “Separated as we’ve been, that is the way it appears.” Blake picked up the remote. “I think when we’re finished here today, we’ll find out we have a lot more than we knew. If no one has any objections, Warden Sams would like to sit in on this one. Since he hasn’t been part of this at
all up to this point, he may see something we’re overlooking.”

  “The more the merrier.” Reefer yawned. “I’d like to get more than three hours’ sleep tonight.”

  The rest of the team murmured their agreement, and Blake turned on the monitor. “Sams, are you with us?”

  “Here, Blake. Thanks for including me; it was getting a little boring down here without you.”

  Blake wrote Case One on the board and underlined it. “We’ll start where it began. We have Belinda Montgomery, Janice Brockhurst, and Jane Doe. What do we know about them?”

  “That isn’t the first case, Blake. Patterson was taken by the Escape Artist the same day these girls were found,” Alex said. “Belinda Montgomery ran away from home and went to Second Chance, where the young girl there told us she was given to John Campton.”

  Blake wrote Patterson/Escape Artist in the center of the board above Case One.

  Tamara piped in, “Janice Brockhurst, originally thought to be a runaway, went to Second Chance looking for Belinda. According to Sarah Jane, she was also given to John Campton.”

  Blake drew an arrow from Belinda to Janice and wrote Case Two, John and Elisa Campton. “We have a connection between these two cases now.”

  “You still don’t have an ID for Jane Doe?” Warden Sams asked.

  “Not yet, Warden, and we searched all the missing persons’ database, and no one has reported anyone that looks like her, and even after releasing the photo to the media, no one has come forward. Any ideas?” Blake asked.

  Sams lifted a cup of coffee and took a slow drink as he stared at the board. “What kind of home did the first two girls come from?”

  “Middle class to upper class. Not your normal runaways,” Alex answered.

  The warden stroked his chin. “So what if the parents are out of town and don’t know their child is missing? She could be a friend of the first two. I’d say talk to one of the kids’ best friends and see if anyone knows them.”

  “Mrs. Brockhurst did say she thought Janice had run away because they wouldn’t let her go on a trip with some new friends that were into drugs. What if Janice took one of those girls along with her when she went to Second Chance?” Tamara asked. “She gave us a list of names, but with everything that’s been going on, we haven’t had a chance to check any of them out except Amelia Dunham, and she was home safe and sound, if you can call that safe and sound. Her mother was as bad as Candy’s mother.”