by D P Lyle
They did a lap of the town, getting a feel for its character. Quiet, little traffic, only a few people strolling about. The tree-lined streets were edged by the usual small town shops—restaurants, bars, a drug store, movie theater, hardware store, bait and tackle shop, and a central downtown square. The police department sat along its south side.
They parked in a slot labeled “Visitor Parking,” and walked through the metal-framed, glass front door. Inside, the Moss Landing PD looked like any other small town department. Two rows of worn, wooden bench seats in a small waiting area, a railing with a swinging gate separating it from the business end of the department. A picture of the governor on the wall. An American flag stood in one corner. A young woman looked up from behind the reception desk. She had short-cropped, dark hair, wore a blue blouse and large, gold hoop earrings. She had been reading a book, which she closed on a finger marking her place, and offered a warm smile.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hello. I’m Bobby Cain. This is Harper McCoy.”
“Welcome. I’m Megan Butler. What can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for Chief Cutler,” Cain said.
“Is she expecting you?”
“No. We were hoping she’d have a couple of minutes.”
“Can I tell her what it’s about?”
“We’re investigating the disappearance of a young lady and I hear she found a corpse nearby.”
“I’ll say. Everyone’s buzzing about it.” She slid a bookmark into the book and laid it aside.
“Is she available?” Harper asked.
Megan hesitated, then stood. “Let me check.” She disappeared down a hallway, returning in less than a minute, saying, “She’s in her office.” She waved a hand. “This way.”
They followed her to an open office door on the left. Chief Laura Cutler stood behind her desk. She appeared fit with dirty blonde hair pulled into a short ponytail, and wore jeans and a black department tee shirt, the city logo in gold over the breast pocket. Introductions and handshakes followed. Cain and Harper sat; Cutler settled into her chair.
Cutler got right to it. “I understand you’re interested in the body we found?” she asked.
“Body parts.”
Her chin elevated a notch, eyes narrowing. “How do you know that?”
“The ME,” Cain said. “Up in Nashville. We saw the remains this morning.”
“And you’re looking for a missing girl that might fit?”
“Not likely. The missing girl didn’t have tattoos as far as we know. Certainly not any like those on the remains. At least not when she went missing.”
Cutler nodded. “The tattooing did look fresh.”
“It did. But I still have my doubts that it’s her.”
“So what brings you here?”
“I guess you might say we’re looking under all the rocks,” Harper said.
“Are you guys P.I.s?”
“Not officially,” Cain said. “We’re working for General William Kessler.”
That grabbed Cutler’s attention. Her shoulders straightened. “Oh?”
“It’s his granddaughter that’s missing. She’s a Vanderbilt student.”
“How long has she been gone?”
“Just over a week,” Harper said.
Cutler gave a half nod. “You think she came down this way?”
“No evidence of that but the truth is no one knows where she might’ve gone.”
“A runaway?”
Cain shook his head. “Not the type, according to everyone.”
“Isn’t it often that way?” Cutler raised an eyebrow. “Everyone says, no way, they’d never do that. But, then they do.”
Cain shrugged.
“What can I do to help?” Cutler asked.
“Maybe nothing. Like I said, we don’t see the remains you found being her but you just never know.”
She glanced at her watch. “I’m expecting to hear from the ME sometime today. If he can make an ID, that is.”
“He was optimistic he could get usable prints from the three fingers that remained.”
“Let’s hope.” She pushed a stack of papers to one side. “We don’t get this kind of stuff around here. It’s a pretty boring town. The occasional alcohol-fueled fight, a B and E from time to time. But murder is pretty rare.”
“From your end you’re sure this was a homicide?” Harper asked.
“Unless she was tear-assing around the woods buck ass naked, I’d say it was a good bet.”
Cain smiled. He liked Cutler. Straight shooter it seemed. “I agree. Based on what we saw.”
“I’m still not sure who you are. How do you know General Kessler?”
“We go back to our military days.” Cain glanced at Harper. “We both do on some level. I take it you know him?”
“Yeah. Just about everyone in the great state of Tennessee does. He’s big player in the real estate world. I met him a year or so ago. He came here to look at a project. A new mall over off the highway. In the end, he backed away. But he was here a couple of times. Seemed like a nice man. Smart for sure.”
“He is that.”
“This is what you do? Find missing college students?”
“Not usually,” Harper said.
“What’s usual?”
“I guess you could say we fix things.”
She cocked her head. “That’s intriguing. Want to expand on that?”
“Not really.”
“Now I am curious,” Cutler said. She glanced at her watch again. “You guys hungry?”
“Always,” Harper said with a smile.
“Then you’re in luck. One thing we have around here is good food.” She stood. “Come on. The city’ll buy you lunch.”
“We’ll buy,” Cain said. “We have an expense account.”
“Lucky you.”
Cain had seen Flo’s Diner during their cruise of the town. Looked inviting then and even more so as he and Harper followed Cutler through the door. The aroma of barbecue filled the air.
A woman carrying a tray of dirty dishes walked by, stopped. “Chief, you sitting at the bar or do you want a table?”
“Table,” Cutler said. “This is Flo,” she said to Cain and Harper. “She owns the place.”
“Thus the name,” Cain said.
Flo laughed. “I’d shake your hand but I’m what you might say indisposed at the moment.” She nodded toward the tray. “Grab a spot and I’ll be right there.”
About half the tables were filled and virtually everyone there nodded to Cutler, a few saying hello, as they walked by. Each studied Cain and Harper as Cutler led them to a table in the far corner.
“Smells good,” Harper said. “Bobby wouldn’t stop on the way down.” She smiled. “One of his character flaws.”
Cutler laughed.
“Let’s say his focus can be one-tracked,” Harper continued.
“Pot-kettle,” Cain said.
A smile from Cutler.
“What’s good here?” Harper asked.
“Flo’s pulled pork and meatloaf are legendary.”
“That they are,” Flo said as she walked up, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Flo, this is Bobby Cain and Harper McCoy.”
Flo nodded. “What brings you to our fair city?”
“They’re investigators,” Cutler said. “Or something like that.”
“Investigating what?”
“A missing young lady,” Harper said.
“Maybe the one the Chief found yesterday?”
“Maybe.”
“That poor girl,” Flo said. “Everyone’s talking about it.” She pulled a pad from her apron pocket, a pencil from behind her ear. “What can I get you?”
Cutler, the pulled pork sandwich; Cain and Harper, the meatloaf.
After Flo left, Cain said, “Tell me more about the remains you found.”
Cutler eyed him. “You first. I want to know about General Kessler’s granddaughter.”
; Cain laid it out. Cindy Grant. Sole grandchild of William and Miriam Kessler. Sophomore at Vandy. Supposedly off on some hiking thing in Colorado. No evidence that happened and no one knows the guy she was supposed to have gone with.
“You’re thinking she was abducted?”
Cain looked around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “This isn’t for public consumption. Okay?”
“Sounds intriguing.”
“Lee Bradford said you could be trusted,” Cain said.
“You know Lee?”
“Just met him. Seems like the real deal.”
“He is. Known him for years. Hell, he tried to recruit me after I finished up my training.” She shrugged. “But me and Nashville aren’t a good fit.”
“He asked us to tell you hello,” Harper said.
Cutler nodded. “So, what’s the big secret?”
“It looks like she might’ve been involved in a prostitution set up. Went off on a date and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. Cell phone dead. No credit card activity.”
“Jeez. These kids. Do they even think anymore?”
“Not always clearly,” Harper said. “Anyway, we’ve got a line on the dude who set up the date.”
“And he says what?”
“Haven’t talked with him yet.” Harper told her of their plan.
Cutler stared at her for a few seconds, her head giving a slow nod. “Setting up a fake website to make this guy think you’re in the same business. I like that.”
“Hopefully it’ll get us in the door.”
“You guys are pretty clever.”
“It was all Harper,” Cain said.
Cutler winked. “Never send a man to do a woman’s job.”
“Amen,” Harper said.
The food arrived. Along with quart-sized Mason jars of sweet iced tea.
“My, this is good,” Harper said, around a mouthful of meatloaf.
“Flo has it down for sure.” Cutler took a bite of her sandwich, dabbed sauce from the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “So you get inside, then what?”
“From what we know so far,” Cain said, “this guy—his name is Adam Parker—is in bed with some other dude. A tough guy. Named Carlos Campos. Ever hear of either of them?”
Cutler shook her head. “No.”
“Didn’t suspect you would. Nashville seems to be their stomping ground.”
“The hope is to appeal to their greed,” Harper said. “Offer them access to more girls. From out of the area. See who they have on hand. How they run things. Hopefully, learn about Cindy that way.”
“Like I said, clever.”
Cain smiled. “And your young lady? Any guesses as to her identity?”
“Not until the ME gets back to me.” She glanced at her watch. “We have folks come and go around here all the time. Nothing like this, but every now and again we have to track down a runaway or two.” She took a slug of tea. “Best bet right now is a school teacher. Went missing up near Lynchburg. That’s where she lives and teaches. Her car was found abandoned on the side of the road just a few miles from here. Maybe four weeks ago, or thereabouts.”
“That fits the timeline.”
“Exactly.” Another bite of sandwich. “Her car was actually broken down. I heard it was some electrical thing. Not sure what exactly. Regardless, it had to be towed. My thinking is that if someone grabbed her, it was likely a crime of opportunity.”
“Good bet,” Cain said.
“Did she have tattoos?” Harper asked.
“No. At least her parents and friends said so. But, like I said, the tattoos on the remains looked fresh. And four weeks is a long time.”
Cain pushed his half-eaten meal aside. “I suspect that you’re asking yourself, if the remains are your missing teacher, why would she have gotten tattoos and then run off into the woods?”
Cutler gave a slight shrug. “And here I bet you thought a small town cop never got any difficult cases.”
“No. Not in the least.”
Cutler raised an eyebrow. “Voice of experience?”
“You might say,” Cain said. “We’ve worked quite a few cases in small towns. They’re just like big cities, only smaller.”
Cutler laughed. “Wish you’d have a chat with our mayor. See if I can get a raise.”
“Gladly. Not sure I’d carry much weight, though.”
“Never hurts.”
They finished their meals, the table was cleared, and Flo brought each of them a cup of coffee. Everyone declined her offer of pie.
“Being a teacher, her prints are in the system,” Cutler said. “That should help.”
“Cindy Grant’s are, too,” Cain said.
“Really? She have a record or something?”
“No. She volunteered at a crises center. They require all their people to be printed.”
“I see.”
“Where were the remains found?” Harper asked.
“Not far from here. Just west of town.”
“Mind showing us?”
“Not at all.”
CHAPTER 19
Cindy found herself, yet again, strapped to the table. Earlier, after a couple of hours of work, her captor had returned her to the cage and left, saying he had, “A few things to prepare.” Whatever that meant. Based on the angle the sunlight slashed through the gaps in the barn’s warped wooden walls, it was now mid-day. It was warm but the cold, hard table and her own fear conspired to send a chill up her spine, pebbling her flesh.
Would this never end? And when it did, what was next? She could see no way that this would end well.
Her captor busied himself at the adjacent table, mixing a new color. He moved calmly and slowly, maddeningly so. Her urge to lash out, scream, fight him, returned. But to what end? He was in complete control. No doubt there. She took a deep, calming breath. Better to stick to her plan. Her new one. Be calm. Flatter him. Let him think she had bought into his madness. Win his trust. Hope for a letdown, a break in his meticulous routine. An opening through which she could escape. To where, she had no idea. What was beyond these walls? Anything was better than where she was.
He returned to her side, scraping his stool up next to her. The machine buzzed to life. Cindy flinched.
“I know,” he said. “But we’re almost done.”
“I don’t know how much more I can take today.”
“The face is always tender. That’s why I waited until last.”
“Then what?”
“Then you’ll be the star of the show.”
She felt tears press against her eyes, panic rose in her chest. She fought for control. Don’t give him that. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll see.”
See what? She wanted to ask, but knew he would offer no explanation. What would being the star of the show consist of? Would he take her from this place? If so, where? Would that offer her a chance to escape?
“When?” she asked.
He smiled. “Tonight.”
That soon? Was she ready for that?
The buzzing, the pain, continued for another forty-five hellacious minutes. Her face tightened, her jaw ached from gritting her teeth. Her breaths raspy gasps as sweat slicked her body, adding an even deeper chill.
Finally, he pushed back the stool and stood. “All done.”
She couldn’t cover her sigh of relief. Tinged with a dose of fear for the unknown she now faced. At least here, day after day, everything was predictable. But, what now?
“What do you think?” he asked.
She raised her head and looked down her body. Thick black and orange stripes twisted and enveloped her legs, arms, torso, her entire being. Again she fought back tears.
Her brain screamed ‘hideous’ and ‘insanity’ and ‘monster,’ but she calmly said, “Beautiful. You’re a true artist.”
He smiled.
“I’m so happy you chose me,” she said.
“Are you?”
“Of course. Who wouldn’t be honored? I mean, before I was just Cindy Grant. No one. Now?”
“Now, you are my Tiger Lily.” He ran a finger along her jaw. “And you’re perfect.”
He began packing up his equipment. “I have things to take care of, but tonight I’ll return and we will prepare for the grand finale.”
“When will that be?”
“Soon.” He patted her arm. “Soon.”
He returned her to the cage. “You get some rest. We have a big night ahead of us.”
Then he was gone.
She examined herself. Tattooing covered every inch of her. Even if she survived, what would she be like? A freak. How could she face her family and friends? Return to her life? Maybe death was a better option.
God, she had been so stupid. The easy money, the excitement, had lured her down this road. There was no one else to blame. Everything was on her. And now, she saw no way to unwind her mistakes.
She curled in a ball and let it out. Sobs racked her. So intense, her chest cramped, her stomach wound into a massive knot as if it might explode.
CHAPTER 20
Chief Laura Cutler hadn’t yet decided how she felt about Bobby Cain and Harper McCoy. Her initial impression was that they were confident, smart, and she suspected good at what they did. Whatever that was. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t simply investigators. Not sure what, but there was an undercurrent of detachment. Maybe not the right word. They did seem to care about Cindy Grant. And General Kessler. But there was a decidedly clinical nature to everything they said. And something else. Darker. Again, not the right word. More a sense of a take-no-prisoners attitude.
Cain had suggested that he drive, and she let him. She climbed in the passenger seat of his Mercedes, Harper in back.
“Nice car,” she said.
“I like it.”
“This investigative stuff must pay well. Or are you a trust fund baby?”