by D P Lyle
He offered a grim smile. “That’s what they say, isn’t it?” He sighed. “Not like we have a choice.”
“At least the news hounds don’t know the truth,” Harper said.
“Not yet,” Kessler said. “But they will. We’ve been getting calls. I shunted them all to our attorney. She’s doing a good job running point. Prepping a statement right now.”
“Good,” Cain said. “But, I’m afraid I’m not going to make your day any brighter.”
“I didn’t expect you came out here with good news. Tell me.”
Cain brought him up to date.
“You’re telling me Cindy was sold like a piece of meat?”
“I’m sorry.”
Kessler stood and walked to the large window that looked over his domain. Cain sensed he’d trade it all for Cindy to be alive and well. The General now seemed older, smaller, more frail. An image no one had ever seen. He turned back toward Cain and Harper. Pain etched his face.
“What kind of people do this?” he asked. “Sell women? Torture and kill them?”
“The worst kind,” Harper said.
He walked back to his desk. His chair creaked as he fell into it. “Each of us has seen some shit. Very bad shit. People with no morals. Sick souls. Jihadis who’ll do anything to anyone if it fits their agenda. But this? I’m having trouble getting my mind around it.”
“Consider this guy—Adam and Carlos, too, for that matter—a domestic terrorist,” Cain said.
“Oh, they’re all that and more.”
Cain shrugged.
“What’s the plan?”
“We’re headed over to Moss Landing. Have a chat with Chief Cutler.”
“You think he’s there? Moss Landing is his stomping ground?”
“I’m sure of it. Both women found there. Cindy, displayed like she was. He wants to see, feel the reaction. That means he’s close by.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“He is,” Harper said. “These narcissistic types like to see their work, like to feel the electricity that surrounds it. They feed on the fear and terror they create.”
“He might have procured Cindy in Nashville but he took her back to his domain. Moss Landing.”
Kessler sighed. “I take it back. This guy’s worse than the jihadis.”
Cain’s mind raced back to the night he and Harper had dispatched the rapists. Off the books. Not sanctioned. Solely because they had to. “Not sure that’s possible. But this guy, whoever he is, is just as dangerous.”
Kessler nodded. He tented his finger before him. “That’s why he has to be exterminated. This is not a situation for the courts.”
Cain glanced at Harper, back to Kessler. “We’re on the same page.”
Kessler held their collective gaze.
“We have a few things to look into over in Moss Landing, then I think a trip to Vegas would be in order,” Cain said. “Lean on the guy who referred him to Carlos. Maybe he knows who we’re looking for.”
“I can have my plane ready in an hour. Just say the word.”
“That would help.” Cain stood. “We better get moving. I’ll call later.”
CHAPTER 38
Chief Laura Cutler wasn’t in her office. Where she said she’d meet us.
“She’s down at the marina,” Jimmy Rankin said from behind his desk. “Some shenanigans going on down there.”
“What?” Harper asked.
“Not sure. Some kids doing something.”
“We’ll walk down there,” Cain said.
“I’d go with you, but she’s got me catching up on paperwork.” Rankin waved a hand over the files before him. “And she’s not in a good mood so I know better than to get my butt out of this chair before I’m done.”
Cain and Harper found Cutler standing on the dock, talking to two teenagers. Boy and girl. She didn’t look happy.
They waited. Cutler finally wagged a finger at the pair. They walked away, heads down. Cutler came their way.
“Kids,” she said.
“What’s the problem?” Harper asked.
She sighed, looking toward the teenagers now climbing in their car. “They broke into a boat here. One of the newer cruisers. Belongs to Mac Stanley. Looking for a place to make out.”
Cain laughed.
Cutler smiled. “Bet you never did anything like that.”
“He did worse,” Harper said. “Much worse.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” Cutler smiled. “Anyway, they got lucky. I called Mac. He said as long as they didn’t damage anything to let it go.”
“Whatever I did, or didn’t do,” Cain said, “I never got that kind of break.”
“Not that you ever deserved any rhythm,” Harper said.
Cain shook his head. “We’re going to tell tales now.”
Harper raised an eyebrow. “Probably not.”
“So, what do you have for me?” Cutler asked.
“Quite a bit,” Cain said. He eyed the people hanging out on the pier and the small park near the marina. “Maybe we should sit somewhere.”
She led them to the collection of picnic tables where they had sat during the barbecue. Deserted now. They sat.
“Okay,” Cain said. “Here’s what we know. Or at least what we think. Your teacher and Cindy Grant were probably killed by the same guy.”
“We don’t know that,” Cutler said.
“No, but hear me out. I think both were hunted. The damage to their feet surely suggests that. That means we have a guy tattooing young women, turning them loose, and hunting them.”
Cutler examined her hands, twined before her, knuckles white. She said nothing.
“The wounds weren’t from a gun,” Cain said.
“What?”
“No exit wounds. No retained bullets.”
Cutler looked from Cain, to Harper, and back to Cain.
“These were done by some sort of round, cylindrical object.” Cain hesitated a beat. “An arrow.”
Cutler’s wheels were turning.
“Not the typical hunting arrow,” Cain said. He described the nature of the wounds he had seen. “No serious hunter would use target arrows. My guess, it was likely a crossbow.”
“So we have a bow hunter who likes to decorate and hunt humans,” Harper said.
Cutler looked toward the water. “Jesus Christ.” Then her head whipped back toward Cain. “Surely you don’t think Martin Stenson has anything to do with this?”
“Do you?”
Cutler’s shoulders jerked. “No. No way.”
Cain shrugged.
“Martin’s a good man. He does a lot for this town. He’s a friend. I’ve known him forever.” She pressed a knuckle against one temple.
“Sociopaths don’t wear labels,” Harper said.
Cutler seemed to mull that. “Is this why you wanted to see him again?”
Cain nodded. “I want to get a feel for him.”
“You’re on the wrong track.”
“You sure?”
There it was. Cutler knew the man. Or thought and hoped she did. And now he had dropped napalm into her lap. Cain saw tension gather in her face. The lines at the corners of her eyes deepening even as she considered the possibility.
“He’s an expert with bows,” Harper said. “He’s a hunter.”
Cutler shook her head. “I can’t buy that.”
“We’re not saying it is him,” Cain said. “In fact, we have absolutely no evidence that he’s involved. But, he just might know who is.”
“I don’t buy that either. If Martin knew anything about this, he’d say so. He’s that kind of guy.”
“Is he?” Harper said.
“Yes. I have no doubts.”
Cain leaned forward. He captured Cutler’s gaze. “You might be right. On all counts. But, I want to see him. And the guys he hangs with. The other hunters. Maybe something will fall out.”
“Well, you got lucky there,” Cutler said. “He’s having a cocktail party later
today. At his place. Most of his buddies will be there. They’ll be drinking and shooting.”
“Sounds dangerous,” Harper said. Then she smiled.
“You’re both invited,” Cutler said.
“Good.”
Cutler looked at Cain. “Can I trust you?” Her gaze slid to Harper. “Both of you?”
“What does that mean?” Harper asked.
“Me taking you there puts me in a bad situation if you go in there and rattle cages.”
“Not our intention,” Cain said.
“I’m sure that’s true.” Cutler shook her head. “But if you betray some agenda, or prejudice.” She opened her hands, palms up.
“Trust us,” Harper said. “This isn’t our first rodeo. We know what we’re doing. All we want to do is get a feel for things. Gather a little intel.”
Cutler sighed. “Do you really think our guy is part of Martin’s circle?”
Cain shook his head. “No evidence of that. But Stenson, from what I gather, is more or less the big dog in this little group. Seems to me he would be a good place to start.”
“Martin Stenson’s a bright guy. If you go fishing, he’ll figure it out.”
“That’s always a concern,” Cain said. “But our goal here is to simply meet the players. See who’s who in his world.” He shrugged. “It might be a lost lead, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Okay,” Cutler said. “I hope this isn’t a mistake.”
“It’s not,” Cain said.
“I’ll give you directions.”
“We’ll pick you up,” Harper said.
Cutler considered that. “Okay. Swing by the station about three.”
CHAPTER 39
The past twenty-four hours had been a living hell for Chelsie Young. She knew when she started prostituting herself that there were risks involved. Sex and alcohol made some guys mean. Even abusive. She had been lucky, though. Most of the guys she had hooked up with were nice, mostly shy, in fact. Usually married. Couldn’t afford to make waves was her thought.
And the money was good. No doubt about that. Not to mention the trips. New Orleans, New York, even Cancun and the Bahamas. Places she might never have seen otherwise.
But this?
This was never part of even her worst nightmares.
The trip, this one with some older guy. A week on Maui. Six grand plus all that sun and beach time, and great dinners. And all she had to do was make him happy. She could do that.
Meeting in the parking deck at the mall was odd, but not all that unusual. A couple of the guys had met her in such places. One even in a church lot on a Friday night. He had actually been a nice guy.
When the SUV pulled into the slot opposite her car and those two Hispanic guys stepped out, her pulse quickened. Something was off. She should have fled then. When she had a chance.
But the big one smiled. Easy, relaxed. Said they would take her to the airport and she would meet the guy on the plane. All she had to do was act casual. Like they were simply seat mates. The guy had a high-profile job and feared seeing someone who knew him. Would be awkward if they boarded together, appeared to be traveling together.
That made sense so she let her guard down.
Big mistake.
They loaded her bags in the back, laughing, saying they were jealous she was getting to go to Hawaii. She climbed in the back seat. The smaller one making sure she was comfortable. Leaning in, smiling, making sure her seat belt was secure, saying they were all about safety. A soft laugh.
She saw the Taser in his hand too late to react. The jolt hit her hard. The next thing she remembered clearly, she was bound, gagged, and blindfolded, curled up in the rear cargo area, like she was another piece of luggage.
Twenty minutes later the rear popped open and she was lifted out. Her balance off, she stumbled, nearly fell, but then felt herself lifted and rolled into a small space. Rough carpeting tugged at her clothing. A door slammed and what light she could sense through the blindfold vanished.
As soon as she heard the engine crank to life, she knew. She was in a car trunk.
What the fuck was happening?
Then she was here. Restraints, gag, and blindfold removed, she was shoved into a cage. When she turned, she saw him. Not what she expected. He looked normal. Even handsome. He smiled. For a brief moment she had thought maybe it was some sex game. But she quickly realized that wasn’t the case.
He had indicated the sweat pants and tee shirt neatly folded in one corner and, for the first time, had spoken.
“Change into those. I’ll be back later.”
Then, he was gone.
She shook the cage’s door. Tried to pry the bars apart. Nothing gave an inch. She paced, taking in her surroundings.
She was in a barn. A large empty space with two large support poles, wooden walls that let long shafts of orange sunlight knife though the gaps. She sat, cried, tried to make sense of everything. The sun faded, darkness enveloped her.
Then, he was back. Lights snapped on. She asked him what was going on. He said nothing but began laying out tools of some sort on a small stand next to a heavy, metal table. Thick leather straps attached to each corner. Then she was on the table, wrists and ankles secured. She cried and begged and pleaded.
Next, he shaved her. Completely. She tried to resist. Twist away. But the straight razor he scraped across her skin made her freeze, tighten every muscle until her entire body ached.
When she saw the tattoo gun she screamed at him. Called him crazy. He only smiled and patted her arm.
“You’ll feel differently once your transformation is complete.”
Her nightmare was now complete. He was crazy. Beyond that.
The buzzing, the pain, electrified her nerves. He spent the next four hours working on her right leg; the higher he worked, the greater the pain.
He said little. Only responding to her questions with “All would become clear” when his work was completed.
Now, it was light outside. Had been for several hours. Where was she? Where was he? What if he never returned? She would die in this cage. No one would ever know.
She had slept little, maybe not at all. She could only remember roaming her cage, looking for some weakness, finding none, before curling up on the air mattress, wrapped in the blankets he had provided. Maybe she dozed.
She rolled up one leg of her pants. Examined her calf. The tattooing was perfect. Tan with random black spots. Like a freaking leopard or something. What the hell?
Then, she heard him. Footsteps, the door cracking open, his form silhouetted against the sunlight.
He handed her a bag. Inside, a cheese sandwich and two bottles of water. She hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. She unwrapped the sandwich and took large bites, washing it down with the water.
He busied himself with setting up his tools again.
“Ready to begin?” he asked.
“No. Please. I can’t take anymore.”
He walked to the cage. “You’ll do just fine. Relax.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“To make you beautiful.”
“You said I was beautiful. Last night.”
“You are. In fact, you’re perfect. Even better than I hoped.” He smiled. “But even perfection can be made more perfect.”
“I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”
“Take off your clothes and we will begin.”
“Please.”
“I won’t ask you again.” He pulled a Taser from his pocket. “You can either strip and climb on the table, or I’ll carry you there.”
She whimpered.
He tapped the bars with the device. “We have much to do today and not much time. I have somewhere to be later and we’re a little behind schedule.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It will.”
She had no choice. She stripped off her clothing. He opened the door, grabbed her by the arm, and led her to the table.
Now was the time.
/> She slammed her palm into his chest. His breath exploded and he stumbled backwards. She ran toward the door. Didn’t make it. He hooked her with one arm, lifted her. He was strong. Stronger than he appeared.
He strapped her to the table and slipped a plastic bag over her head. She gasped, struggled, jerked her head back and forth, tried to bite through the bag. Nothing worked. Dizzy, the bag fogged, the world beyond fading away. Then the bag was gone. She wheezed in deep breaths.
He smiled and spoke slowly, with a maddening calmness. “You resist me again and the bag will remain. I’ll dump your body in the lake.”
Sobs racked her.
He patted her arm. “Take deep breaths and relax. It’ll be easier that way.”
She sniffed. “Why me?”
“Look at you,” he said. “Long arms, longer legs, a tight body. The perfect canvas. The perfect Chelsie Cheetah.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ll see.”
But she knew. He was tattooing her to look like a cheetah. The spots on her leg.
He now began work on her other leg. She tried to go away, imagine herself lying on a sugar-white beach, the sun warming her skin.
CHAPTER 40
Cain and Harper checked in at the Creekside Inn. Lily Butler had reserved the two best rooms in the house. Same as before. They dropped their luggage and headed back downstairs.
“Hope your rooms are okay,” Lily said, from behind the reception desk.
“Only perfect,” Harper said.
Lily beamed. “I put some fresh flowers in there for you. And a box of taffy.”
“I saw,” Harper said. “You’re going to spoil us.”
“It’s what I do.” She smiled. “Where you off to?”
“Maybe grab some coffee,” Cain said. “Take a drive.”
“Where’s the best coffee?” Harper asked.
“What are you talking about, young lady?” She tossed them a mock frown. “I make the best coffee in the state.”
“And biscuits,” Cain said.
“That I do. That I do.”
Lily filled a pair of large paper cups with coffee and handed Harper a small paper bag.
“What’s this?”
“A little something for the road.”