“Did he even ask to see his daughter?” Kel asked as he walked over to close the door.
“No,” she whispered. “He never does.”
“Then why even let the bastard in?” He was walking over to her now and as she slumped and dropped her head so she could rub the back of her neck, his fingers itched to do it for her. He wanted to touch her, to feel her skin under his fingers again.
“I don’t know. I guess because of Kayla I thought I had to.”
“You don’t have to put up with that, and it’s sure not doing Kayla any good hearing it.”
“I make her wear headphones and listen to her music whenever he comes. We have a system.”
“Geez! Is he always like this?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry Laura. I probably shouldn’t have intruded.”
She lifted her head and gave him a tiny smile. “Then I would have missed seeing him jump like that.”
Kel smiled back at her and then looked up when he heard a door open and soft padded footsteps coming down the carpeted hall. Kayla, eyes wide and face pale, looked down at them. She had a small smile for Kel.
“Hey, Kayla. Is that your pool out back? I saw some big dolphin floats out there, are they yours?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Mine and Mommy’s.”
“Would you invite me to come swim with you one day?”
Kayla looked over at her mother questioningly. Laura nodded.
Kayla walked slowly down the stairs, took his hand, and started leading him out the door.
“Not now! I don’t have a suit with me.”
She was still clutching his hand and looking up at him with sad eyes. Either she’d heard the argument after all, or she was starting to deal with the trauma of her experience. It just about broke his heart to see her so unhappy.
“Well, how about I come back tonight after work, grill us a few steaks, and teach you how to do a cannon ball off the side?”
Kayla’s eyes lit up and she smiled, but then the smile disappeared as she again deferred to her mother.
“Would that be all right with you?” Kel asked Laura. He was afraid she’d say no to him, but he didn’t think she’d deny her daughter anything right now, and he wanted to see this little girl smile again.
Laura looked down at her daughter who was bobbing her head up and down. She laughed at her daughter’s antics and said, “Sure, why not? I have the grill but I didn’t get any steaks at the store.”
“I’ll stop and pick a few up on my way back. You sure this is okay? I didn’t mean to waggle an invite. I just thought she needed a distraction.”
“It’s fine. It should be fun. It’s about time Kayla learned the cannon ball anyway,” she said with a big grin.
“Okay, I’ll see you around seven.”
As Laura walked him to the door, she asked why he had come.
“I needed to know you two were safe.”
They stood on the front steps of the beach house looking into each others faces, eyes locking, then traveling to lips that suddenly needed wetting as invisible magnets pulled at them.
Laura felt a tightening in her chest and a quickening in her blood, something warm pooled in her and made her feel lightheaded.
Kel felt desire spiraling out of control. The sound of a far off siren jolted him back to the present, and he ran his hand tenderly down her arm, lightly squeezing it at the wrist before racing down the steps.
On the way back to the station he asked himself how long had they stood with so much feeling flowing between them. He had no clue.
Chapter Thirteen
At the station he collected the faxed lab results from Kayla’s clothing and the duct tape. The DNA testing on Laura’s bra would take at least two weeks.
The duct tape yielded some prints, mostly Laura’s. But there were two other adult prints. They had been run through the Automated Fingerprint Identification System, or AFIS, but no match was found. Unidentifiable, they were catalogued and entered as evidence before they were sent to the FBI to be checked against their system. The same prints, a thumb and a middle finger, were on the rubber edge of Kayla’s shoes. The fingerprinting system didn’t work very well if the culprit’s fingerprints weren’t on file anywhere. And apparently this madman’s were not.
Kayla’s urine-soaked, feces-covered, little pajama-styled overalls were covered with carpet fibers and tiny pieces of grass. These were being run through several computer matching programs, but the information garnered would only help to convict, not find the perpetrator. Unless the fibers came from specialized high-end carpeting, they would be impossible to trace; low-end carpets were run-of-the-mill and mass marketed to too many places to be tracked in most cases.
The scrapings from Kayla’s nails, dirt brushed from her hair, mucus taken from her nose—none of those, once analyzed, were of any help; there was nothing unique, nothing to trace. But like a hunter, Kel scanned the paragraph written about each thing that had been tested, hoping to find the one unusual thing he could use to catch this foul creature.
He went over the notes he had taken when he had first talked to Kayla after her return, and then the notes the child psychologist had sent him. Kayla knew very little about what had gone on. Mostly because she had been blindfolded the whole time, but also because she was young and scared. She didn’t remember very much except that it was a man who had taken her and that he had not fed her, given her anything to drink, or allowed her to use a bathroom. She had heard a television on almost all the time and had recognized the sounds of the “Big Money Show,” which Laura informed them was actually called “Wheel of Fortune.” She also said she heard breathing, lots of loud breathing and women crying out, sometimes yelling “yes” over and over again. Kel could only surmise she had heard the soundtracks of porn movies.
She did not know if she had been riding in a car or a truck, but did remember that she had been lying down, rolling with each turn into something, “really smelly.” When asked to describe the smell, she couldn’t other than grimacing.
There did not appear to be anyone else involved, or if there was, they never made a sound that Kayla heard. She mentioned that she heard a fire engine siren and something that sounded like an air horn once, and that it had been very loud before it stopped. It had hurt her ears, and her hands hadn’t been free to cover them.
She mostly remembered how badly she felt to have wet herself. And then she was cold because she was wet. When she had to eliminate solids, she said it burned her. The doctor saw evidence of that in the form of a diaper rash, and had speculated that her anxiety had caused stomach acid, which in turn had led to diarrhea. She definitely had been miserable, and yet when Kel talked with her, she had her mother’s sense of being above complaining. She was a nice, quiet, polite little girl, and this should not have happened to her. Kel hit his fist on his desk.
Piles of papers were faxed and dropped on his desk hourly, but nothing so far was workable. Nothing.
He met with his supervisor, the Chief of Police, and later the Mayor through a conference call. Everyone wanted to know about the progress his team was making and he was disheartened with each new report wafting down onto his desk.
At a quarter ‘til six the electronic surveillance experts accompanied by the department’s computer whiz, and Kel’s best bud, Mark Twiller, marched into his office and closed the door behind them. Kel pushed back his chair, raised his eyebrows, and said simply, “Well?”
Mark spoke first. “Nada at the motel. The surveillance camera’s been in place for at least six months. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been near it. It feeds directly to a web site. It’s all digital, so it doesn’t even need film to loop. It was set on auto-focus and had fairly good quality imaging within three to ten feet.”
Kel winced at that, remembering the distances at which he and Laura had been videotaped.
“We dismantled the whole system, fingerprinted the camera, the TV, and all the connections. So far, the results are pretty pathetic. Outside, on the backing, we had the most prints. We’re running them all down now. Inside, we got one thumb, one forefinger and a palm print.”
“How about the manufacturer?”
“Cannon. Serial number indicates it was originally purchased from Circuit City in 2002. We contacted the original owner, he said he sold it to his neighbor when the new model came out. The neighbor sold it through the classifieds last summer when he was low on cash. The man who bought it paid cash and he doesn’t remember what he looked like, only that he was middle-aged and scruffy-looking. He said he was glad the man paid in cash because he wouldn’t have trusted him with a check. He saw what the man was driving, but only remembers that it was an old, dark blue Buick sedan, maybe a Century, he wasn’t absolutely sure.”
“How about the web site?” he asked turning to face Mark.
“Owned by a porn company in California. The dedicated link feeds automatically once the camera starts filming.”
“What turns it on?”
“The power is on whenever the television is off, any movement in range triggers it to start recording. There’s a lot of footage of housekeeping on the Green Door site. One particularly interesting one where one of the maids sits on the end of the bed and picks her nose for ten minutes, wiping her buggers on the bedspread.”
Kel cringed. “Did any of the employees you questioned know about the camera?”
“They all said they didn’t, but the manager started stuttering as soon as we showed him our badges and the warrant.”
“Did you bring him in for questioning?” Kel asked.
“Charlie’s with him now. I think they’re planning on doing a polygraph if he doesn’t come clean.”
“That could be just the break we need.”
“No way it’s him, he’s scared shitless. I wouldn’t count on it.” Mark was shaking his head dolefully. “And of course you know they don’t keep any record of the people who use these rooms.”
Kel acknowledged that with a slight nod. “Well maybe he’s being paid to grant access and to keep his mouth shut.”
“Well hopefully he’s not being paid enough to shield a murderer,” one of the other cops injected.
“What should we do about the web site?” Mark asked.
“Is it legal?”
“From all appearances.”
“Does the porn company have any information about the camera?”
“They’re in California. They say they don’t much care what’s sent or how it’s acquired, just so long as the monthly bills are paid.”
“Who’s paying them?”
“It was paid up front until 2007, by money order. No one knows, no one cares. When the money stops, the uplink is shut down. Until then anything sent is broadcasted.”
“To whom?” Kel’s eyes narrowed, hopeful there was some kind of clue here.
“Anyone who has the code. The digital network tracker sends signals from one computer to another, it monitors in real time. But most of these geeks have an evidence eliminator that erases all record of Internet contact before shutting down, so there’s no way to follow it. The sender used an anonymous remailer, there is no way to trace it back.”
“You mean this is not shared porn?”
“No, not at all. At least not in this case. It’s a private deal. You pay the fee, set up the camera, hidden wherever, the dedicated line sends the feed to the web site. You log in using a password and a PIN number and then you select from a menu, set up chronologically I believe. You only get to watch your own stuff unless you pass around the code so others can watch.”
“And pray tell, how is this profitable?” Kel asked.
“You’d be surprised. There are hundreds of clubs in this country alone dedicated to a very sophisticated version of the old mirror trick.”
“Mirror trick?”
“You know, where you lace a mirror onto your shoe and then slide it under a girl’s dress.”
“That’s high school stuff!”
“Not anymore. All over the world men hide small mini-cams in briefcases or shopping bags and videotape up the skirts of unsuspecting women. Men all over the world get off on that. And they share. You can go on line right now and find sites like Crotch Cam or Beaver Babes, where twenty-four hours a day, a camera is positioned and broadcasting back live for these sickos.”
Kel let his head fall back against the headrest of his chair and he let out a long, hard sigh. Then he blew through his lips, sending the lock of hair on his forehead airborne.
“So, the show Laura had to put on for the kidnapper is only being viewed by our man,” Kel stated.
“If you’re lucky,” the officer behind Mark said with a snicker.
“What do you mean if I’m lucky?”
“C’mon Kel, do you think we’re stupid? We know you had a part in this.” The same officer flashed a knowing, sideways grin, one Kel had seen often while playing cards with him, it wasn’t amusing to Kel to see it right now.
“How could you know that?” Then in a panic, “You didn’t see the tape did you?”
“No. But there’s no other reason you would have stumbled across this hidden camera unless you were involved. We didn’t get the ransom note from Mrs. Wyndham until after Kayla was returned, but you set up surveillance that afternoon.”
Kel glared at Mark. “You told them, didn’t you?”
Mark put his hands up in the air, palms forward. “Honest, Kel I didn’t say a word to anyone. Not a soul. You told the brass, maybe one of them couldn’t keep your secret.”
“So, we were right,” the other detective said, and nodded knowingly to the other two.
“This had better stay in this room or there will be some seriously messed up careers, not to mention faces,” Kel said angrily.
“Kel, we’re here to help you, buddy. We ain’t got no beef about how you’re getting the job done. Fact is, any one of us would have been happy to help Laura Wyndham out, and before you get all hot and bothered by that statement, I’m not saying that in a lecherous way.”
“I’ll just bet.” Kel said as he crossed his arms and lowered his head to his chest.
“Really, Kel. Hey, there’s a lot of off-color things that could be said here, and maybe sometime when this is not so damned serious, you’ll hear a few, but right now, the only thing we care about is getting this creep. You do what you gotta do, we do what we gotta do.”
“And that would be?”
“Well, for starters, can’t we get a warrant for this company so we can access the link and trace it to the account that was set up?”
“I doubt it. But even if we could, it’s not likely he used his real name and address now, is it?”
“With access, we could erase what’s there, if you don’t want something to be there . . . .”
“That would be ideal, but it might be better if we don’t tip our hand. He has no idea that the man on the video was in on this . . . this . . . thing with Laura. And he certainly should have no inkling that the man is a cop. Unfortunately, unless we catch him soon, he may have use of that camera and TV again, and him having no idea it’s been dismantled could have a disastrous effect on the next victim. Let’s close up shop there and keep tabs on the room. Maury, you and Josh arrange for our own brand of surveillance, the twenty-four hour kind. Draw men from the squad room if you need to, I’ve already cleared it.”
“Kel, you are going to get some sleep soon aren’t you? You look bushed,” Mark commented.
“Yeah, yeah. Maybe tonight. Right now I’ve g
ot to get over to Wrightsville.”
“What’s going on over there?”
“Just a little barbecue, is all. I’ll expect everyone to check in by ten A.M., we’ve got to get something going here before the mayor has a shit fit.”
Chapter Fourteen
By the time Kel picked up the steaks and headed over the Wrightsville Beach Bridge, he was almost sorry he had agreed to this pool thing. He was bushed, and now he was beginning to really feel it.
He knocked on Laura’s door and heard her call something back to Kayla before she opened the door for him. The full, beautiful smile she gave him erased some of his tiredness. Kayla running to the door to see him erased the rest.
“You’re here! You’re here! Momma said you might not come.”
Kel stooped to Kayla’s level and looked up at Laura. “Now why do you think she’d say that?”
Kayla innocently shrugged her shoulders, ran for the stairs, and imperiously called out behind her, “I have to go put my suit on!”
“A bit excited are we?” Kel said as he stood and looked into Laura’s face.
“She’s been talking about you and that cannonball ever since you left.”
He gave her a sideways grin and followed her into the house, closing and locking the door behind him. “Why didn’t you think I’d come?” he asked, curious what she would come up with.
“I don’t know, I just thought you were being nice before. And you must be tired.”
“It’s not nice to promise a child something and not follow through, and yes, I am a bit tired.”
Laura was in the kitchen now, and she turned to lean back against the counter. “Kids are used to it these days. No one keeps their word anymore.”
Worth Any Price Page 11