A Killer's Watch

by Tallulah Grace

  He always knew the right thing to say. Jeri smiled, grateful for the sincerity she heard in his voice. Her phone rang, before she could respond.

  “It’s Anna,” she told Ethan as she answered.

  “Hi, Anna, you’re on speaker with me and Ethan.”

  “Hi, guys, I’ve got the sicko list ready. Man, who knew there were so many of these perverts in such a small area?”

  “One is too many,” Jeri remarked. “How many did you find?”

  “A hundred and fifty seven in the two hundred mile radius you requested, including Kansas, Nebraska, Missouri and Iowa. That includes one group home, but I separated those names out. I figured the perv you’re looking for will need a private place to do his business,” she finished with disgust.

  “Good thinking, thanks, Anna. Check with Dylan, see if he needs help searching for similar cases. And Monique or Chloe may be in touch this morning. Help them however you can.”

  “Sure thing, Jeri, will do. Later, guys.”

  “One-fifty-seven? That seems excessive,” Ethan glanced down at the list Jeri pulled up on the tablet.

  “Not really, sad to say. The good news is that seventy-seven of those reside in the group home. That leaves eighty scattered in the four states. Anna’s already separated them out by region, so we can start interviewing the ones in Iowa today, while we’re there.”

  “Good idea. Any of them live close to Shelby Torrent?”

  “Give me a few minutes, I’ll make a list.”

  ~~~

  “I thought we were going to an office? This is an apartment building,” Chloe commented, parking the car near the curb.

  “It’s the right address,” Monique confirmed, double checking, just in case. “Perhaps the owner runs the business from home.”

  “It’s definitely possible, since they solicit clients through the website. How did Anna get this address?”

  “No clue, but I’m trusting that she’s right.”

  “Who is the owner?”

  “Candace James. Suite six-thirteen.”

  “There’s no doorman, which helps. I don’t see any cameras, either.”

  “Apparently Ms. James is not concerned with security.”

  “Good for us, not so much for her,” Chloe held the door to the elevator open. “How do we play this?”

  “We’re private investigators,” Monique grinned. “Ones who will keep the true nature of her business to ourselves, as long as she cooperates.”

  “But we don’t have any proof that she’s running an illegal business.”

  “No, but she doesn’t know that. We found her, so that says something. Maybe it will be enough.”

  The ride to the sixth floor was quick and smooth. Chloe felt a knot begin in the pit of her stomach, trepidation over her first official interview as a member of EJB.

  “Relax,” Monique shot a quick look in her direction. “This has to be easier than living through a war.”

  “It’s different,” Chloe looked down at her petite partner, wishing she could feel as cool as Monique looked. “I’m totally out of my depth, here.”

  “You’ll catch on quick enough,” Monique assured her. “Follow my lead, and for goodness sakes, don’t fidget. We are the ones in control here, remember?”

  With a rapid tap on the door, Monique squared her shoulders and prepared to get the information she needed.

  “That was fast,” a female voice trilled as the door slid open. “I didn’t expect you for…who are you?”

  “Monique Pellier,” Monique flashed a badge she’d retrieved from her pocket. It meant nothing, but Candace didn’t know that. “My partner, Chloe Carson and I would like to ask you a few questions.” Monique prepared to step inside the doorway.

  “About what?” Candace held her ground, closing the door slightly, to keep them from entering.

  “About your business, your real business,” Monique eyed her haughtily, a true feat as she stood at least eight inches below the woman facing her. “We can come in, or give your neighbors an earful. Your choice.”

  After considering her options for a moment, Candace finally stepped aside, allowing them to enter.

  “What about my business?” she asked warily.

  “Let me be more specific,” Monique said, choosing to sit on the sofa, without being invited. Chloe followed suit. “We need to know everything you know about Pepper Sweet’s last client.” Monique pulled out a notepad, preparing to write.

  “I already told the cops everything I know,” Candace tossed her hair back, before sitting down across from Monique and Chloe.

  “Sure you did. I want the rest of the story. Surely you keep the client’s IP address, or a record of his previous transactions.”

  “He was a new client, Pepper was his first date. If you want his IP address, you’ll have to ask the web company. I don’t keep those records here.”

  “How did he pay?” Monique glanced over to the laptop, set up on the dining room table.

  “I already told the cops, he used a prepaid debit card. Why are you asking the same questions? I really don’t have time for this.” Candace started to stand.

  “Sure you do. Unlike the cops, we don’t care that you’re running a whorehouse from this cute little two bedroom. We’ve got the time, and the resources, to gather every bit of incriminating information available on your ‘Escort Service’. For example, we know that only the deposit is made via debit or credit card. The balance is handled via iGold, a supposedly untraceable online currency.” Turning to Chloe, Monique grinned. “It still amuses me that people really believe that. Untraceable! Right!” she laughed.

  Chloe nodded, laughing lightly.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Candace protested. “I’ve never heard of iGold!”

  “Wow, then I suppose the two Cayman accounts we found don’t really belong to you. A shame, really. All of that lovely money, turned over to the IRS. We’ll probably get a reward for finding it.”

  Candace narrowed her eyes, all semblance of innocence gone.

  “What do you want?”

  “I told you, we want information. Give us everything you have on Pepper’s last client, and we forget everything we know about your business.” Monique stared her dead in the eyes. “We have no problem with free enterprise, to each his own. But we will find the man who murdered Pepper, and you will help us.”

  “You can begin by showing us the transactions. Is that the laptop you use for business?” Chloe asked, nodding toward the dining table.

  “Yes,” Candace answered, tightly.

  “Bring up your iGold account, give us the account number of the man who paid for Pepper.”

  Within minutes, Monique and Chloe had everything Anna needed to begin tracing the client, including his IP address, which Candace had stored on her computer.

  “Thanks for your help, Candace,” Monique told her as they were leaving.

  “You didn’t exactly give me a choice,” Candace grumbled. “Now what?”

  “Now nothing. Your life goes on as usual. Though I would check into a better home security system. Anyone can waltz in here. And it’s not like you can’t afford it,” Monique winked as she and Chloe made their exit.

  “That was easier that I thought it would be,” Chloe grinned, after Candace had slammed the door behind them.

  “Piece of cake. Most enterprising people are happy to trade information, assuming they can keep their business intact.”

  “But why didn’t Anna just tap into her computer, get everything we just did, but without her knowing it?”

  “Anna had no way of knowing which iGold account paid for Pepper. Getting Candace to give it up was the only way to identify it.”

  “Now what, she traces the account, matches it to the IP address, and we have our perp?”

  “Oh, if it were only that simple. No, Anson would have given instructions on how to hide behind online currencies and identities. We can only hope that the IP address leads us to a place
with surveillance cameras, and that the cameras retained the feed from Tuesday at two in the afternoon. Then we may get a visual on our guy.” Monique stepped into the elevator. “As for the iGold, we can match it to the account used to pay for the other prostitute, Rusty Dennis, corroborating that one person committed both murders. It could take days, but eventually Anna could trace the iGold account to a real person.”

  “Let’s hope that the missing Iowa teen has days, assuming that our killer took her.”

  “Hard to say, but I’m sure that Jeri and Ethan will have a better sense of things, once they assess the situation. Let’s do this again, shall we?”

  “Looking forward to it,” Chloe smiled, pointing the car into traffic.

  Chapter Six

  “Allison, why aren’t you answering the phone? This is the third time I’ve called you, call me back!” Sandy left the message, a niggling thread of fear starting to coil in her stomach. Allison was not in school, had not returned any of the calls, or replied to any of the texts she’d sent during the course of the day.

  Something was wrong, it had to be. Allison would not ignore her this way on purpose.

  Unless she was grounded, which was possible, but even grounded, she would still have been in school.

  Deciding to drop by her friend’s house on the way home, Sandy waited patiently for her turn to exit the high school parking lot.

  ~~~

  “Ashley, where is your sister?” Trudy Wells tapped her nails on the desk in her office as she spoke to her eldest daughter. “She’s not answering her phone.’

  “I don’t know, Mom, I just got home. I’m sure she’ll be here soon.” The sound of the doorbell punctuated Ashley Wells’ answer.

  “Who is that?” Trudy asked, hearing the bells chime in the background.

  “I don’t know, why don’t we see?” Irritated with the interruption of her after-school plans, Ashley dutifully went to answer the door. “Maybe Allison forgot her keys.”

  Seeing Sandy’s face, peering through the sidelights, Ashley rolled her eyes as she opened the door.

  “It’s Sandy, Mom. I’m sure Allison is with her.”

  “Allison’s not here?” Sandy asked, hearing Ashley speak to her mom.

  “No, she spent the night with you, remember?” Ashley glared at the younger girl, thinking what an idiot her sister’s friend could be.

  “No, she didn’t,” Sandy stepped inside the house, confused. “I haven’t seen her since last night, at the club.”

  “Did she say club? What club?” Trudy’s voice rose with intensity. “Did your sister go out on a school night? You said that she went to Sandy’s, to study. What’s going on, Ashley?”

  “I don’t know, Mom, jeesh. Give me a minute, will ya?” Turning to Sandy, Ashley sighed heavily. This was so beneath her.

  “Alright, squirt, you said that you and Allison went to a club. Did you leave together?”

  “No, she wanted to wait to see if Trey showed up. I left before eleven, she was still there.”

  “But she texted me, just before midnight, said that she was spending the night with you.” Ashley began searching the texts on her phone. “See?” Showing Sandy the short message, Ashley turned her attention back to her mother. “I swear, Mom, I thought she was at Sandy’s.”

  “Put me on speaker,” Trudy demanded, feeling the icy fingers of fear close around her heart. “Sandy, did you see Allison at school today?”

  “No, she wasn’t there, and she hasn’t answered my calls, or responded to my texts. That’s why I’m here.” Sandy spoke to the phone, but her eyes never left Ashley’s. “What if something happened to her?”

  “Where did you go last night? What’s the name of the club?” Trudy reached for her purse, began hunting her car keys.

  “It’s called The Barn Door,” Sandy’s voice was shaky. “It’s in Smathers.”

  “Nebraska? You girls drove to Nebraska to go to a club? What in the hell were you thinking?” Trudy let her fear turn into anger, all of it directed at Sandy.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Wells, but it’s the closest place to us that doesn’t check ID’s,” Sandy blurted out. “We were safe, I promise.”

  “Not safe enough. Where is Allison?” It was a moot question, one that Trudy did not expect Sandy to answer. “You stay put, Sandy. I’m calling the police, I’m sure they will want to speak with you.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Sandy felt her world crumble as she realized what could have happened to Allison.

  “Ashley, if the cops get there before I do, let them in. Tell them whatever they want to know. I’m on my way.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Ashley echoed, feeling the seriousness of the situation for the first time.

  ~~~

  “Thank you for speaking with us, Mrs. Torrent. I promise that we’ll do everything we can to find Shelby,” Jeri squeezed the other woman’s hand, trying to reassure her.

  “Shelby’s a good girl, why did this happen?” Mrs. Torrent clung to Jeri’s hand like a lifeline.

  “I don’t know, but I promise you that we’ll find out,” Jeri eased her hand away, while maintaining eye contact with the distraught woman.

  “Thank you, thank you. I just don’t know what I’ll do without my Shelby,” the woman cried, shoulders shaking as a new wave of sorrow hit her.

  “Come on now, sweetie, let’s get you a nice cup of tea.” Guiding the woman inside, Mrs. Torrent’s neighbor waved Jeri and Ethan away.

  “That was rough!” Ethan exclaimed when they were out of earshot. “I hope we can keep your promise.”

  “We will,” Jeri told him, grateful to be away from the overwhelming grief inside the Torrent home. “It’s too bad the men we already interviewed have alibis. I really want to nail this bastard.”

  “How many more on the Iowa list?” Ethan asked, starting the car.

  “Seven. We’ll be lucky to be back in Kansas before midnight,” Jeri checked her watch. “It’s three-thirty now.”

  “We may as well interview them all while we’re here.”

  “Agreed. The next one lives about six miles from here. Turn left.”

  “Why don’t you check in with Monique, see if they’ve turned up anything?”

  “You read my mind,” Jeri smiled, trying to get the image of Shelby Torrent out of her mind. She was only fifteen, but already a beauty. Her bedroom was every girly-girl’s dream; a canopy bed with pink satin bedding, a chandelier, dripping crystals, and more pillows than Jeri could count. In the center of the pillow mountain rested a deep brown teddy bear, obviously well-adored for years. It broke her heart to think of such an innocent child, possibly in the hands of Anson’s watcher.

  “Take the next right,” she told Ethan as she dialed Monique. “Then take the third left.”

  “Hi, Jeri,” Monique answered the call. “How was the meeting with the mother?”

  “About like you’d expect,” Jeri told her. “Nothing concrete, but we do believe that this is a kidnapping. Still not sure if it’s our guy, or not. How are things going with you?”

  “So far, we’ve had no luck. The last three names on Anna’s list were not at home, so we’ll swing back by later today. Otherwise, each man we spoke to has an alibi.”

  “Same here, but we’re starting back on the list, now. Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Jeri didn’t believe it, but they had to try.

  “At least we confirmed the iGold accounts are the same for both transactions. Anna has something to go on there.”

  “Yes, that’s a start,” Jeri sighed. “We’ll be late getting back, don’t wait on us for dinner.”

  “Okay, keep in touch.”

  “You, too.”

  ~~~

  “Will you be joining me tonight for the Arts Council meeting?” Belinda Grant eyed her son warily from across the parlor. A warm fire burned in the oversized hearth, spreading warmth into the cavernous space.

  “Not tonight, Mother. I’m afraid that I already have plans. Benson can take you.” Graham didn’
t bother looking up from his paper as he answered.

  “Benson is not a Grant. You should really take your responsibilities to the community more seriously, Graham.”

  “I take my responsibilities very seriously, Mother, as you well know. And as our attorney, Benson should earn his keep. Besides, you are enough Grant for the Arts Council, surely.”

  “You sound just like your father,” Belinda chided, picking up her teacup.

  “Thank you,” Graham hid his smile behind the paper.

  “What are your plans?” Belinda inquired, politely.

  “Nothing that would interest you, Mother dear. I’ll be going out before you return home. Please don’t wait up for me.”

  “Of course not, dear. You are certainly old enough to come and go as you please.” Belinda hesitated, then asked the question that burned in her mind. “Will you be in the company of a young lady? It’s high time you settled down with a wife, you know.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Graham purposefully kept the malice he felt from his voice. “As it happens, I do plan to spend the evening in the company of a young lady. If it becomes serious, I’ll let you know.”

  “Wonderful,” Belinda practically glowed. These days, she could imagine nothing better than to have grandchildren to spoil.

  “Indeed,” Graham shook his paper, indicating an end to the discussion.

  ~~~

  Allison had long given up on ripping the duct tape bonds, and her throat was raw from repeatedly screaming. Resigning herself to remaining immobile on the uncomfortable mattress, she tried to capture tears with her tongue, as they rolled from her eyes.

  As unnerving as the blinking red light on the camera was, she managed to block it out, in light of everything else she felt.

  Chilled to the bone, she turned her thoughts to warm memories of home, family, and friends in an effort to stave off the terror, and remain calm.

  Whoever was watching probably wanted her to thrash around, try to get free, she thought. Thinking he got off on it, she denied him the pleasure. It was the only control she possessed, at the moment.