Skin in the Game

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Skin in the Game Page 23

by D P Lyle


  “We spent much of yesterday with Martin Stenson and his crew,” Cain said. “At his home. I’d say we have a suspect pool of sorts.”

  Kessler hesitated as if absorbing that. “You think Stenson’s involved somehow?”

  “Don’t know. But if not, it could be one of his group.”

  “At least they might be able to lead us in the right direction,” Harper added.

  Ten miles out of Nashville, the traffic thickened. As usual. Cain maneuvered around an eighteen-wheeler only to fall in behind a tiny electric death trap, cruising well below the speed limit. One of those with only an expanse of glass between the driver and another car, a power pole, or a bridge abutment. Harper called them “Donor Cars.” The passengers wouldn’t survive the impact, but some of their organs might.

  “I don’t see Martin being this kind of animal,” Kessler said. “But I don’t know him all that well. Just a couple of brief business meetings. But, to me, he seemed… What’s the word? …Ordinary.”

  “It’s the ordinary ones that are dangerous,” Harper said. “Sociopaths don’t wear labels.”

  “Speaking of sociopaths,” Cain said. “When we get up to Nashville, I’m going to arrange a meeting with Adam Parker and Carlos Campos. We know they’re involved.”

  “But neither is likely the killer,” Kessler said.

  “No, but they know who Cindy was sold to. And the buyer is the guy we need.”

  “You sure?”

  “I am,” Cain said. “It’s why he bought her.”

  Kessler puffed out a breath. “And I thought Afghanistan was a shit-hole. How are you going to handle them?”

  “Gently,” Cain said. “Unless that doesn’t work.”

  Kessler sighed. “You know my feelings on that.”

  The next two calls were to Chief Cutler and Captain Bradford.

  Chief Laura Cutler wasn’t a happy woman.

  “Yeah, I saw the article. So did everyone else. Right now I’ve got folks from a half a dozen newspapers wandering around here, harassing everyone. Not to mention news crews from CNN and ABC. The sharks are circling.”

  “You have any idea who might’ve leaked the story?” Harper asked.

  “No one in this department,” she said. “At least, they better hope not. If I found out one of my guys did it, I’ll crack their skull.”

  “Anyone come to mind?” Cain asked.

  “No. And truly I don’t think it happened on this end.”

  “What about your mother?” Cain asked.

  “Trust me, I asked. Told her if she opened her mouth, I’d shoot her. Right after a couple of these annoying reporters.”

  Cain laughed. “Sorry. But I had to ask.”

  “So did I,” Cutler said. “Mother wasn’t amused.”

  “I can picture that.”

  “My main concern is that this guy might already have another victim. Every time my phone rings I expect it to be another tattooed girl hung up somewhere.” She sighed. “This is a royal mess.”

  Could he? Have another victim on his tattooing table? Cain didn’t relish that possibility. Harper jumped in, breaking that thought chain.

  “Probably not yet,” Harper said. “But you can bet he will.”

  “What does that mean?” Cutler said.

  “Most of these guys have a cooling off period. The killing satisfies something inside. The driving need. So they tend to sit back and enjoy the euphoria. But eventually the demons stir and they go on the prowl again.”

  “Pleasant thought,” Cutler said. “How long are we talking here?”

  “No way to know,” Harper said. “It varies greatly. Our guy waited a couple of months between visits. So, it could be months again.”

  “Unless he accelerates,” Cain said.

  “Possible,” Harper said. “Bottom line is that there’s no way to know. His timeline is his timeline.”

  “Thanks,” Cutler said. “You made my day.”

  Harper ended the call, saying they’d keep her updated on anything they learned.

  Captain Lee Bradford wasn’t happy either.

  “Of course the leak could’ve come from here,” Bradford said. “We’re a big department. Too many folks know the details. Not to mention over at the ME’s office.”

  “Anyone in mind?” Cain asked.

  “No. But I got my sniffer working.”

  “What about the media?” Harper asked.

  “Oh, yeah. They’re around. Not as bad as what I hear is going on down in Moss Landing. Laura Cutler must be beside herself.”

  “She is,” Cain said. “We just talked with her.”

  “You down there?”

  “We were. Just getting back into Nashville.”

  “And then what?”

  “Sit down with Carlos and Adam Parker. One or both of them know who bought Cindy.”

  “I’d still like to lean on them,” Bradford said.

  “Not yet. Let me meet with them first.”

  Bradford hesitated. “You do know the clock’s ticking?”

  “We do. I’ll call you after I meet with them.”

  Cain’s next call was to Adam. On his William Faulkner phone.

  CHAPTER 45

  He hadn’t signed up for this shit. No way. Sure the money was good. And being the man, the one that seduced these air-headed college chicks into turning tricks, was perfect. He’d proven his worth, over and over. And now with a new venture coming his way, one that would increase his cash flow substantially, or so it seemed, things couldn’t be better.

  Except.

  Adam Parker sat in his car. He had pulled to the curb several blocks from Carlos’ to re-read the front page story. Cindy Harper murdered? Carlos said she had gone off to Europe. Probably wouldn’t be back. So how the hell did this happen?

  He remembered when he recruited Cindy. He knew she was General Kessler’s granddaughter, and that did give him pause. But, the choice was hers, wasn’t it? He simply made the offer. She could’ve said no. If she was ever arrested, or word leaked that she was a prostitute, that wasn’t really his problem. And dragging her roommate, Kelly Whitt, and her friend, Ella Hamilton, into the mix had been a good thing. A profitable thing. Even if Kelly and Ella had jumped ship. They’d be back though. No doubt. The money was too easy.

  But now, with Cindy murdered, would the General stir things up? He was powerful, extremely wealthy, and connected. He could make things happen. Could any of this lead back to him? Would the police show up, wanting to know if he knew anything about what had happened? Would he be a suspect? How deeply into his life would they go?

  This was totally fucked.

  He had a more immediate problem. How would he handle Carlos? What should he say? Nothing? Maybe that was smart but he had to know how this all went down. For his own protection, if nothing else.

  He tossed the newspaper on the passenger seat and pulled from the curb.

  “Here,” Carlos said. He handed Adam a wad of hundreds.

  “What’s this for?” Adam asked.

  “It’s your share of Cindy’s last gig.”

  “She’s dead.”

  Carlos shrugged. “That’s too bad. She was a money maker.”

  “I thought she went to Europe,” Adam said.

  Carlos laughed. Glanced at Alejandro Reyes and Hector Munoz. “Change of plans.”

  Adam didn’t like the two—what were they? Muscle? Enforcers? Whatever. They were bad news and he had never felt comfortable around them. A darkness, a sense of violence dripped off them. They rarely smiled. Had he actually ever seen either one of them show any humor? He couldn’t remember if they had. Now they sat on a sofa in Carlos’ living room, their dark gazes leveled on Adam.

  “How did this happen?” Adam asked.

  He sat in a chair at one end of the coffee table, the duo to his right, Carlos in an identical chair across from him.

  Carlos shrugged. “It happened.”

  Adam leaned forward. He pinched his nose. Thinking maybe a simple
nod, acceptance, might be the best tact. But, he had to know.

  “Look, this is going to make waves. Maybe big waves. I need to know the truth.”

  “Might be best if you don’t.”

  “Come on, Carlos. We’re in this together. If I don’t know what happened, I won’t know how to answer any questions coming my way.”

  “Don’t say nothing,” Hector said.

  Adam looked at him, then to Carlos. “Not knowing could lead to saying something that doesn’t fit. With whatever you say. Don’t you think it’s best if we’re on the same page?”

  “You’re assuming anyone will ever connect us.”

  “They might. If they dig deep enough. We are connected. I’ve brought you, what? Over a dozen girls? They’ll talk. It only takes one to open that door.”

  Carlos considered that. “Okay. The truth? I sold her.”

  “What?”

  Carlos shrugged.

  “To who? Why?”

  “The ‘why’ was for ten grand. That’s where your cut came from. The ‘who’ is unimportant.”

  “Is it? What if the police track down that person?”

  “They won’t.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Carlos smiled, nodded toward Alejandro and Hector. “We know what we’re doing.”

  “You know who her grandfather is? General Kessler has powerful friends. Don’t you think he can mount a fucking army of folks to find out?”

  “We’ll simply say that as far as we know she went on a trip to Europe.”

  “With who?”

  Carlos stared at him. Apparently he didn’t have an answer for that. Not a good one, anyway. He simply said, “With some dude.”

  “So, what? They say: ‘Oh, okay, some dude. Why didn’t you say so in the first place? We’ll go look for some dude.’ Don’t you see the breakdown in logic there?”

  “You want out?” Carlos asked.

  Did he? Shouldn’t he just walk away? While he could. The truth? It was too late for that. He was in this way too deep. And there was this new venture. One that could bring in a boatload of money. Adam sighed. “No. I don’t want out.”

  “Then let us handle this end. You take care of recruiting.”

  Adam nodded. His cell buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and examined the screen.

  “It’s Bill Faulkner. He said he’d call when he got back into town. Probably wants to set up a meeting to finalize everything.”

  “Good. Tell him to come on by.”

  CHAPTER 46

  After hanging up, telling Adam he’d be by within the hour, Cain drove home. Two minutes after he and Harper walked into their condo, Mama B called.

  “Adam’s getting wonky,” she said.

  “How so?”

  “He sat down with Carlos and his two guys—Hector Munoz and Alejandro Reyes—and confronted them about Cindy. Carlos admitted he had sold her to some guy.”

  “How did Adam take that?”

  “Not well. But in the end, he remained onboard. Carlos said he’d take care of things and that Adam should stick to recruiting.”

  “Okay. I’m on my way over there,” Cain said.

  “How you going to play it?”

  “We’ll see. But my bias is straight up.”

  “I’d expect nothing less.”

  After he hung up, he said to Harper, “Airdrop me the photo on Stenson’s group.”

  She did. He checked it. “Looks good.”

  “How are you going to use it?” Harper asked.

  “According to what Carlos said, his two guys were the only ones who saw the buyer.”

  “And the guy in Vegas.”

  “And him. But, I might see if they’ll cop to knowing any of the guys in the picture.”

  “That could get prickly.”

  “More than prickly. I’ll play it by ear.”

  Thirty minutes later Cain was seated in Carlos’ living room with Carlos, Adam, Munoz, and Reyes. Adam had greeted him at the door. He looked stressed, spooked. No small talk, no smile.

  “Thanks for seeing me,” Cain said, shaking Carlos’ hand. He sat.

  Carlos smiled and rubbed his palms together. “Let’s get this done.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Cain explained again how everything would work. His group would handle the girls, the appointments, the money. Carlos and crew would do the recruiting and take a cut. A big cut.

  “I like it,” Carlos said. He looked at Adam. “Sound good to you?”

  Adam nodded.

  “Okay, what’s next?”

  “Needless to say,” Cain began, “there can’t be any formal contract. Nothing in writing. No paper trail. It’ll all be on a handshake.”

  “No problem,” Carlos said.

  “There’s just one thing.”

  Carlos’ eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

  “The girl you sold. Cindy Grant.”

  Cain felt more than saw Adam stiffen.

  “What about her?” Carlos asked.

  Cain sighed, fixing a look of concern on his face. “That’s something that could come back on us.”

  “I don’t see how?”

  “You do know she was the granddaughter of General Kessler?”

  “So?”

  “He’s a powerful man. Lot’s of connections. Could cause trouble. Expose the entire thing.”

  “Never happen,” Carlos said.

  “But it could. My partners have some hesitation because of that.” He looked at Carlos. “Unless we can fix it.”

  Carlos nodded toward Munoz and Reyes. “We can handle that.”

  “I thought you didn’t know him? The buyer?”

  “I don’t. But we’ll find him. Eventually.”

  “Eventually is a long time.”

  “He’ll be back. When he does, we’ll fix it.”

  Cain decided to take the leap.

  “This isn’t for public consumption,” Cain said. “Cindy was tattooed. Like a tiger. She was hunted and killed.”

  Carlos sat up straight. His gaze cut to his two guys, then back to Cain. “I didn’t see anything like that in the paper. How do you know this?”

  Cain smiled. Hoping to decompress Carlos. “We’re in an illegal business. My organization is large. International. We know people. Own people. Cops, judges, even a couple of FBI guys. We have resources.”

  “I see.”

  “So, we know what happened. The details. We need to find this guy. The buyer. Now. Before the temperature rises.”

  “I’m not sure how to do that?”

  Cain pulled out his phone. “We know Cindy was hunted by some guy with a crossbow.”

  “What?” Carlos asked. “They still make those?”

  “They do. And folks hunt with them. Like the guy who hunted Cindy Grant.”

  Carlos took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, puffing out his cheeks.

  Cain opened the photo he had downloaded from Harper. He extended it toward Munoz. “You guys recognize any of these guys?”

  “What is this?” Munoz asked.

  “There’s a bow hunting group down near Moss Landing. Where Cindy was found. These are several members of that group.”

  Carlos stood and walked around behind Munoz, examined the photo. “How’d you get this?”

  “Like I said, we have resources. The guy might or might not be one of these guys. Take a look. Anyone look familiar?”

  Munoz and Reyes stared at the screen. A quick glance to each other.

  That’s all Cain needed. The glance. The way their shoulders squared. The hesitation. The show of carefully studying the photo. The killer was there.

  Munoz shook his head. “I don’t recognize any of them.”

  “Me either,” Reyes added.

  “You met the guy twice, so I suspect you’d know.”

  “It was dark,” Munoz said. “We met in a warehouse. I think maybe he was disguised.”

  “Disguised? How?”

  “Nothin’ big,” Reyes sai
d. “Not like he wore a mask.” He glanced at Munoz. “He did have a cap on. Like a baseball one. Plain blue. Had it down low.” He shrugged. “Like we said, it was dark.”

  Cain nodded. “It was a long shot.” He looked up at Carlos. “He called you though. Right?”

  Carlos nodded. “A couple of times.”

  “No number in your phone?”

  “It was blocked. I figured it was one of those throw away phones.”

  Cain already knew that. Mama B had searched Carlos’ phone. The calls did come from a burner. One purchased a month earlier, in Vegas. Cash. No ID. No security camera at the store. She had checked everything.

  “That would be smart,” Cain said. He looked at Munoz. “You sure no one in the photo looks even remotely familiar?”

  He shook his head. “None of them looks like anyone I ever met.”

  CHAPTER 47

  Chelsie was exhausted. It had already been a long day and now he was back at work. He had started early, near sunrise, worked for a few hours. How many, she couldn’t work out. Time meant little in here. Long enough to complete her entire lower back. The pain, the incessant needle, had ramped her nerves to the breaking point. She had cried and pleaded and he finally relented, saying they’d take a break. He left briefly, returned with a PB&J sandwich and two bottles of water. Then, he left.

  Two hours later he returned. Strapping her to the table. Face up. Now working on the sensitive areas around her breasts.

  “How much longer?” she asked.

  “Two, maybe three days. Then you’ll be perfect.”

  “I meant today. I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

  That was true. She felt a vibration throughout her entire being. If her nerves had been frayed before, they were now nearing the break point. Didn’t he ever tire? Weren’t his hands, his back, aching and knotted? He’d spent hours perched on a stool, hunched over her. His concentration seemed almost superhuman.

  He smiled. “You’re doing just fine.”

  “No, I’m not. Please.”

  He placed the tattoo gun on the table, near her hip. He sat up straight, twisted his torso one way and then the other. “Another hour.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Sure you can.” Another smile. “You’re a real trouper.”

 

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