Cuffed & Collared

by Samantha Cayto

  “Crap.” Fuller’s direct manner was one of the things Regan admired about him. “So, you’re saying we have no other viable leads.” It was more a statement than a question.

  Regan nodded her assent and then elaborated. “The only other possible clue here is the Nebraska case. It’s a long-shot, though. We haven’t placed anyone we have here to there, have we?” She looked at JoJo.

  The other woman shook her head. “The best I can give you is that Veronica Pugh was born Veronica Beals.”

  “Wait a minute,” Regan interrupted. “You mean she changed her name to Pugh?”

  “Her ex-husband’s name. I guess she kept it because she has a couple of kids. Anyway, the Beals are a family from Lincoln, Nebraska, although Veronica, herself, never lived there.”

  The lieutenant perked up instantly. “Now there’s something.” Regan and JoJo had filled him in on the Johnstone murder.

  “I don’t know, LT,” Regan replied. “Lincoln and Omaha are pretty far apart.”

  “The Nebraska vic’s kid, the son, went to college there,” JoJo reminded her.

  “Yeah, but it’s a good school and the state university. Virtually every native Nebraskan must want to attend it. Can we place Veronica in the state at the time of the murder?”

  “Not yet. We could bring her in for questioning,” her partner suggested.

  Regan slumped back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. She pictured the woman who had transformed her into a Domme. “I can’t see it. She doesn’t give me the right vibes.”

  “Are we solving murders based on your vibes now?” Fuller’s tone was biting.

  Regan sighed. “No, but if I had to pick a favorite at this moment, it would be Molvado. She gives off the right vibes,” she added, looking at her superior.

  JoJo nodded in agreement. “She does.”

  “Fine.” Fuller stood up. “Keep digging into both women and every other line of inquiry you have. I don’t have to tell you time is short. Odds are that, in the next couple of days, another man is going to be tortured to death. It would be nice if we could stop it. The mayor and the governor are talking about taking this case out of our hands entirely and handing over to the FBI.”

  “Shit!” Regan sat up straighter. “It’s a purely local case. They have no jurisdiction.”

  “They do if it’s related to a Nebraska case. Besides, the governor has the power to ask them to step in if he wants to. And frankly, if we can’t find the killer before we have another victim, who are we to say it’s a bad idea?”

  Regan watched as the lieutenant left. The guy had a good point, damn it all, except she was sure the FBI would work under their profiler’s assumption about the killer being a man, and she still didn’t believe that for a moment. They were all scared of another murder, yet they were doing what they could. It wasn’t going to be enough. She could feel it deep down in her gut.

  Later that afternoon, JoJo stopped by Regan’s desk, nursing her undoubtedly umpteenth Coke. She sat heavily in the guest chair and stared at her partner. “It may be that I’ve had too little sleep and too much caffeine today.”

  “We both have, but I’m not certain why you’re bringing it up.”

  “I’m anticipating you’re telling me that I’ve lost it and giving you an excuse in advance.”

  “Okay,” Regan nodded in confirmation. “So?”

  JoJo put her Coke down on the desk and tapped a manila file she had in her other hand. “I’ve been trying to track Thomas Johnstone, Jr.”

  “The son.”

  “The son. After the murder, he went back to the university and finished up his degree in psychology.”

  Regan grabbed the Coke and took a long pull. “The major of the undecided. So what, he then went into criminology?”

  “No, he went into the Peace Corps.”

  “Altruistic.”

  “Weird because he disappeared right after his stint.”

  Regan’s heart sped up with the news. This was something, she was sure of it.

  JoJo continued. “I spoke with someone in the organization and according to their records, he was stationed in Haiti and called to let them know he wasn’t coming back to the States. That was the last they heard of him.”

  “Okay,” Regan said, her eyes unfocused as she thought. “It could be something, or it could be he was so traumatized by his father’s murder he tried to escape the whole thing the best way he knew how. We can’t read too much into this yet.”

  JoJo shook her head. “I think we can. See, it just so happens that Mindy Fortensky was also with the Peace Corps at the same time.”

  Regan frowned. “Mindy? You mean Little Mouse on the Prairie?”

  “She’s from Oregon. I don’t think they have prairies out there.”

  “But she was stationed with the son of our murder victim?”

  “Not exactly. She was assigned to an African nation. They may have met during orientation, that’s all, and what that says, I can’t imagine. We don’t even know if there’s a connection between that murder and ours.”

  “It’s our best lead, though. Dig deeper into Miss Mindy. She may have learned the details of the Johnstone murder from the son.”

  “And what? Do you think she’s replaying what she heard? She doesn’t seem the type.”

  “I know, she doesn’t give out the vibe, but as Fuller pointed out, we can’t solve a murder based on vibes. Besides, it may not be her doing anything. Maybe she’s hooked up with the son, and he’s acting out some weird catharsis using her. Better yet, maybe she told the story to Molvado, and the good doctor is putting the idea into action. It would explain why it’s been so long since the original murder.”

  “You’re right.” JoJo stood up. “The minute I saw the overlap, I sensed it was a good lead. I’ll dig deeper.”

  “Good.” Regan looked at her watch. “With the time difference, there should be no problem contacting people out in Oregon. See if you can find members of her family or friends, classmates, anyone who might shed some light on her background. Who knows, maybe she liked to torture animals or something when she was a kid.”

  “On it.” JoJo hesitated and stepped back again. “You know this is a one person job at the moment. Why don’t you go fix whatever it is that’s been eating at you all day.”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  “You’ve got man trouble written all over your face.”

  “Shit,” Regan muttered under her breath. Her partner was right. She couldn’t work as effectively with the Kyle issue occupying her thoughts. Might as well see if she could set things straight with him, although it didn’t seem possible that they could solve fundamental problems with a simple short discussion. On the other hand, with her anger over his Molvado visit dissipated, maybe they could have a rational discussion. Yeah, right. With a sigh, she grabbed her jacket and headed out the door.

  With the end of September looming, the days were getting darker earlier. By the time she reached Kyle’s condo, the evening commute was thinning out, but dusk had set in. There were no spots open near his building, so she double-parked, figuring it was worth a ticket. She wasn’t the only one, either. A Mercedes was doing the same thing just ahead of her. She left her car and tried, as she had multiple times on the ride over, to come up with what she wanted to say to Kyle. Words still failed her. Oh well, she’d just have to wing it.

  As she trotted up the stairs, a woman already stood in front of the intercom to the building, muttering under her breath. Regan saw tall, sleek, and stylish before she hit the top step of the stoop.

  “Come on Kyle, you have to be home, damn you.”

  Regan’s step faltered as the woman’s words sunk in. She pulled out her badge and held it up. “Excuse me, ma’am, are you looking for Kyle Ramsey?”

  The woman whipped her head around. Her eyes went wide when she saw the badge. “Oh, my God, has something happened to Kyle? Was there an accident?”

  “No.” Regan was quick to a reassure her, although alar
m shot through her at the question. “I’m here to ask him a few questions about an investigation.” Which was almost the truth.

  “Oh, you mean Jazz’s murder, I suppose. Such a horrible thing.” The woman shuddered theatrically. “But he doesn’t have time tonight for questioning, I’m afraid. We have to go to our daughter’s back to school night.”

  Regan slipped the badge back into her pocket. “I see. Is he home? He doesn’t seem to be answering.”

  The woman blew out a frustrated breath. “No, he’s not. Not the buzzer here, not his cell phone. The night receptionist at his firm swears he’s gone. I’d think the woman was just covering for him, except that isn’t like him. He never misses things for the kids.” She crossed her arms and snuck a peek down at the street. Her gaze seemed fixed on the double-parked Mercedes.

  “I have Emma in the car. Kyle was supposed to pick us both up. I just don’t understand what’s going on.” She turned and jabbed at the intercom again.

  Please answer. Please. Regan stared at the door, as if wishing alone would make the man appear. She gave it a full minute before accepting that he simply wasn’t home. Or, maybe he was and couldn’t respond. Something was wrong, and her imagination went into overdrive even as the more rational part of her brain told her she was overreacting. He was running late, that was all.

  “Do you have a key to his place?” she asked the woman who was clearly Kyle’s ex.

  “Yes, I do. For emergencies. It’s on my key chain.” She motioned toward the car.

  “Please go get it.”

  The former Mrs. Ramsey blinked back at Regan for a second before hurrying down the steps. She was back quickly, a fancy key ring in her hand. She showed Regan two keys. “This one opens the front door, and this one is for the condo unit itself.”

  Regan took them. “Thanks. Please wait in the car.”

  “You think he’s in there and is hurt or something?” The woman bit at her lower lip.”

  Regan tried to give her a reassuring smile. “No, but it’s best to be sure.”

  She wasted no time in opening the front door and shutting it carefully behind her. Once she was out of sight of Kyle’s wife, she pulled out her revolver and put the key in the condo’s lock. She went in expecting trouble, gun at the ready, eyes scanning the room quickly. There was no one in the kitchen/living room area. She paused, straining to hear if anyone was in the bedroom. All she heard was the pounding of her own heart and the rasping of her labored breath.

  She forced herself to calm down. If Kyle was in trouble, she’d do him no good by letting her fear override her training. Satisfied that no sounds came from the back of the condo, she stepped carefully farther inside. Down the hall she crept, scanning, listening, and sniffing until she popped into the open bedroom. She knew a moment of relief when she didn’t find Kyle sprawled dead on his bed. A quick check of the bathroom and the second bedroom confirmed he wasn’t home. She holstered her gun and considered her next step.

  Where the hell was he? When he talked about his girls, his love and devotion for them was obvious. He wouldn’t blow them off. Not even his ex-wife thought that, and exes tended to be critical of one another. Something was wrong, very wrong. And there was only one very wrong thing she could think of at the moment.

  Given what that was, she started hoping Kyle had been in some kind of accident. The alternative didn’t bear imaging, although the killer’s M.O. was to do her dirty work at her victim’s home. Because Kyle wasn’t here, it made more sense that it was something more mundane, like an accident or work.

  Just as she’d managed to talk herself out of the worst case scenario, her phone rang. “What’s up, JoJo?”

  “I just got off the phone with the head nurse at the facility where Mindy’s aunt resides. Mindy’s parents died in a crash when she was eleven, and this aunt raised her after that. According to the nurse, the aunt encouraged Mindy to follow her dream of doing global aid work by joining the Peace Corps instead of hanging around Oregon while her aunt slowly and literally lost her mind.”

  “And?” Regan left Kyle’s condo to let his ex know he wasn’t there.

  “And Mindy was good about checking in via email and phone calls for her entire stint in the Corp until the last few weeks. Then she sent one last message that said she’d met a guy and was staying in Africa and wouldn’t be in touch anymore. Said the aunt was too far gone anyway to know if Mindy was there or not, which was mostly true. Still, the nurse was surprised. Mindy had always struck her as a devoted niece, the kind that would at least want updates on her aunt until the end.”

  “Instead, she what, runs off with the Johnstone kid?” Regan trotted down the stoop and over to the Mercedes.

  “The nurse didn’t know who Mindy had met, but the timing fits. Of course, now she’s here, so obviously she didn’t stay in Africa.”

  Regan held her phone in a death grip. The fear she’d experienced when she first entered the condo was back tenfold. “JoJo, Kyle Ramsey is missing. It may be nothing, but I want you to get hold of Fuller and have him secure a warrant for searching Mindy’s place. Then text me her address and meet me over there ASAP.”

  “Will do, although I don’t know if we have enough to get a warrant.”

  “Fuck that. Everyone wants the killer found, so someone better make sure we get permission to search a suspect’s place.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  “We go in anyway. There has to be some connection here with our killer. The whole story about Mindy and Johnstone Jr. is too off for it not to be, and if Kyle is in danger, I’m not taking any more chances.”

  “Roger that.” JoJo hung up.

  Regan went around to the driver’s side to speak to Kyle’s ex-wife through the open window. She managed to shoot a reassuring smile to the tween girl in the passenger’s seat. “Here’s your key. He’s not in there. I suggest you head over to your event. I’ll track Mr. Ramsey down for you and have him give you a call.”

  “All right, if you don’t mind,” the woman said with a forced smile. Obviously the woman was worried, too, and didn’t want to upset her daughter.

  “It’s no trouble at all,” Regan said stepping back. “You have a nice night.”

  She waited until the car pulled out into the traffic before sprinting back to her own. She wanted to believe in the reassurance she’d given, that Kyle was okay. Deep in her gut, she knew she would be lying to herself. Kyle was in trouble, and if she didn’t figure out where he was quickly enough, he was going to be the fourth victim.

  JoJo’s text with Mindy’s address came in, and Regan hit her siren to clear a path. The secretary lived in Brighton, not too far from where Ronan used to rent. It didn’t take long to arrive, and Regan killed her siren before she reached the last block. If Mindy had Kyle at her place, Regan didn’t want to announce her arrival. She pulled up to the building, double-parking once more, and got out. JoJo arrived by the time Regan had reached the front steps.

  “Tell me the warrant came through?”

  Her partner shook her head. “Fuller’s on board with trying, but so far no luck. It’s a stretch to say Mindy is our prime suspect.”

  “And yet she damn well is.” With a grimace, Regan backed up a bit and looked at the building’s façade. “What number is she?”

  “2A.”

  “I’m going to assume that means it’s a front apartment on the second floor. I don’t see any lights on.”

  “She could be in a back room,” JoJo replied as they jogged up the steps.

  Torturing Kyle to death. Regan had to keep it together. The front door had a security lock that someone had jammed open, so they got inside without any trouble and trotted up quietly to the second floor. They stood silently in front of Mindy’s door for a few seconds, listening for anything that might indicate if anyone was inside. JoJo’s phone pinged, and Regan watched expectantly as her partner checked the message.

  JoJo frowned. “Still no warrant.”

  “Fuck it.” Regan
ran to her car and pulled out her handy dandy and illegal lock picking kit from the glove compartment. It had been a gift from her father, and she always carried it with her, even though she’d never had occasion to use it. It took little effort to open the old door. Sliding the kit in her back pocket, she pulled out her gun and gestured to her partner to go in low.

  Regan pushed the door open as quietly as she could and immediately scanned the room as she entered. It was dark and as small as the apartment was, she could clearly see that no other lights were on in the efficiency kitchen at the far end or in the room to the left that she assumed was the bedroom. Still, she took no chances as she quickly crossed through to the back of the apartment. There was no sound in the place other than the relatively harsh breathing of her and her partner. Nothing smelled off, either, so by the time they entered the bedroom, she was sure Mindy wasn’t home.

  Holstering her gun, Regan switched on the bedroom light and stared at the frilliest girls room she’d ever scene. That which wasn’t pink, was purple, and everything looked to be made from either satin or silk. Fluffy pillows and cutesy stuffed animals adorned the white four-poster bed. It was like a ten year-old’s bedroom. The only thing missing was posters of pop stars and actors. JoJo whistled.

  Regan glanced her way. “Yeah, I know. Weird. Check the bathroom, will you?”

  Regan tackled the bedroom, not sure of what she was looking for. Something, please God, needed to give her a clue. She opened the closet and found a hefty amount of clothing, most of which was like the dress she’d seen the admin wear at Molvado’s office. She searched through to see if any of it was more in the Domme theme, but nothing was. Next, she opened the dresser drawers and stared at the predictable amounts of underwear, bras, panties, except…

  Pulling out a bra, she held it up and studied it. It was padded, completely, creating breasts in the cups. A quick look confirmed that all of the bras were the same. She tossed the one in her hand down and yanked open the next drawer. It contained a bunch of Spanx, except, no. These were underwear with padded bottoms, creating feminine curves. With dawning fury, Regan realized the import of the clothing.