by Robin Mahle
“We don’t want to alarm any of the employees,” Nick replied. “We’ve got some follow-up with Richmond PD. Why don’t Reid and I handle that, and Jameson, I’d like you to coordinate with Detective Franks on surveilling the house here. We have to consider the possibility that Druseburg isn’t out of town at all. And if he returns, then we need to be ready.”
“Understood,” Jameson said.
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The hotel was just ahead; a moderately priced chain that was considered suitable accommodation by the Bureau because they were the ones paying for it.
“You’ve been pretty quiet. Is everything okay?” Nick asked.
“Just a little tired, I guess.” The idea that she could confide in Nick wasn’t a possibility right now. She felt ashamed and guilty, and the thought of disappointing him, well, that was probably her own hang-up, but she cared what he thought of her.
“Okay. We’ve got work to do. Let’s get inside.”
Nick approached the front desk and checked them both in.
“Here are your keys, sir.” The man behind the counter handed Nick two key cards.
“And for you, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
“Enjoy your stay.”
“First thing we need to do,” Nick began as they walked to the elevators, “is to get hold of someone in Druseburg’s office, see if we can find out where he is without raising any red flags. I figured it would be better if I handled it rather than Franks.” The doors parted on the third floor and the two stepped into the hall.
Kate suspected Nick was intending on skirting the rules a little by trying to get a location on Druseberg and hadn’t wanted the detective to be made aware of his efforts. She’d noticed on more than one occasion Nick’s propensity for operating in the gray area if he believed it would award him results. “Do you think we’ll be able to track this guy down?”
“One way or another, yes. Why don’t you get settled in, then come over, and we’ll get started?”
The two had adjoining rooms and Nick would be sharing his with Dwight. Kate dropped her bag onto the bed and reached for her phone. She’d half-expected a call from Will, but there was none.
Minutes later, Kate knocked on Nick’s door. He’d already tossed his tie onto the bed and the first two buttons on his white oxford were undone. “Come on in. There’s some water in the fridge if you’re thirsty.”
“Thanks.” She grabbed the water and walked towards the desk where Nick was sitting at his laptop. “Have you contacted his office yet?”
“A few minutes ago. His secretary said he was in L.A. and was due back tomorrow, just like the housekeeper implied.”
“So where does that leave us?”
“Well, we need to touch base with Detective Garrett, see if they’ve gotten anywhere with neighbors in the area.” Nick raised his index finger. “You know what? We could search tattoo shops or suppliers. Corbett’s got to be doing his own work. It’d be too risky to have someone come to him or worse, take the girls someplace to get it done. No, I think he’s branding them himself. We might be grasping at straws here, I don’t know, but it wouldn’t hurt to find out if anyone recognizes him.”
“Or maybe his partner, assuming the sketch is accurate enough.” Kate said.
“It’s all we’ve got right now. I think we should work on developing a timeline too. When the other drop houses were discovered, when Ruxandra Sala escaped. Corbett isn’t staying put anywhere for long, and if we can get some idea of any patterns in his movement, then we should be working that angle too.” Nick stopped and seemed to examine Kate.
She believed that her stone exterior had been enough to deter him, but could now feel his probing stare. Perhaps Kate wasn’t as good at poker face as she once thought. Or maybe this problem had weighed so heavily on her mind that her distant gaze was too easy to see through.
“So, are you ready to tell me what’s going on yet?” He laced his fingers against the back of his head, pressing down on hair that had grown out since she’d first met him. His style had changed from those early days, it now appeared more laid-back, and maybe a touch grayer.
Kate sat down on the double bed across from the desk chair on which Nick was perched. Nervously rolling the water bottle between her hands, she cast her gaze downward. Don’t tell him. It won’t do any good. She couldn’t even convince herself. “I screwed up.”
“Screwed up? How? On one your exams?”
She raised her eyes to meet his. “No. It’s not the Academy. Well, it is, I guess.” In that moment, Kate began to reconsider her earlier thoughts. This wasn’t Nick’s problem. He’d done enough to help her and so what did she expect he could offer now? A lingering pause meant he would only ask again if she continued to keep quiet. “I—um, I slept with Will Caison last night.” She almost expected Nick to explode, telling her what a stupid thing she’d done, but he didn’t. Instead, he lowered his arms, inhaled a breath, and waited for her to continue. “I felt weak—and alone. I knew he was attracted to me, he’d made it clear, and I took advantage of that.”
“Do you have feelings for him?”
Nick’s sincerity put her at ease and she was able to continue. “No. I was lonely. I miss him so much.” No matter how hard she tried, her eyes still began to sting and she hated crying in front of him, or anyone.
He leaned over, his elbows resting on his lap, and looked directly into her eyes. “I know you miss him. I know you loved him. But, Kate, he’s gone and he would want you to live your life.”
“I feel like I betrayed him. And I hurt Will. I know I did.” She dabbed her finger under her eyes.
“Caison’s a grown man and I’m sure he can handle it. In fact, I’d be more inclined to think that he should’ve known better. That maybe it was he who was taking advantage, not the other way around.”
Nick was always the first one to absolve her of any responsibility. “That’s what he said, but I’m the one to blame. Not anyone else, just me.” She looked away for a moment. “I saw you and Georgia at your office last night and it was just really nice to see you both so happy. I miss that feeling, you know?”
“Of course you do, but don’t idolize our relationship. She and I have our own problems. It’s pretty hard having a relationship when you only see each other once or twice a week. Look, all I’m saying is that you have nothing to feel guilty about, Kate. Just try to pull yourself together because I know you want to find these girls and you can’t let your personal life get in the way. I need you now, okay?”
Kate understood his intentions. He wasn’t trying to brush it off as if none of it mattered. But there was no point in dwelling on it either. What’s done is done.
“Jameson’s calling,” Nick said as he answered the cell. “Scarborough here. Son of a bitch. Okay, we’ll be right there.”
“What is it?”
“Druseburg. He just got home.”
TWELVE
Smoke drifted in front of the man’s face from a cigarette he’d just put to his lips. The crease on his forehead deepened as he listened to Gregor Bjuric’s brother, Vito, explain the circumstances that brought the brothers to his diner.
Stan Kovac sat in his favorite chair in the small diner that specialized in ethnic foods, particularly Hungarian cuisine. His long-time friend was the proprietor and so it was common for Stan to take his noontime meals here. Now, listening to the nervous, stuttering man before him caused his appetite to vanish.
“Toma is dead. His body’s already be found.” Stan pressed the cigarette butt inside the black plastic ashtray. “You are the one who killed him. Is that what you’re telling me, Vito?”
“Da.”
“English, Vito.”
“Yes.”
“And you did this to save your brother.” Stan looked to Gregor, who seemed to slink down at the mere glance.
“He was going to kill him, but Gregor did not know what he was doing when he talked to the police. I tried to convince him I could keep Gregor un
der control.”
The table shook as Stan slammed his fist down. “You see? This is the problem. Gregor talked to the police. Talked to the FBI, and brought them to see Petrovich. So Toma did what he believed needed to be done and that was to make sure Gregor didn’t open his fucking mouth again.”
“Mr. Kovac, it was an accident. He pointed the gun at Gregor, and I just—I knocked it from his hands and then we struggled. I begged him to stop, but he didn’t and when I grabbed the gun, it just went off.” Vito glanced at his brother. “I’m sorry for Toma, I swear it, but I can take over his job. I can make it up to you.”
“And what do we do about the fact that the police have already found Toma? Do you think they’ll just forget all about him?”
“No, sir.”
“No.” Stan pushed up from the chair as it screeched along the vinyl floor. “You think you are ready for Toma’s job? Then you do what Toma promised me. Find me three girls by the end of Monday.” Stan picked up the cigarette butt and flicked it onto Gregor’s face. “And if he talks to anyone, I’ll be the one to take care of him. In the meantime, I’ve got to go and clean up your fucking mess.” Stan made his way to the exit and then turned around a final time. “Three by Monday at midnight.”
Vito waited until Stan left the diner. “You’re lucky Stan was in a good mood. Now where the fuck are we going to find three girls for him?” Vito paced the now empty diner. “Toma supplies drugs to everyone around here. He used his cut from Kovac’s operation for seed money to keep his business growing. It won’t be long before his dealers hear what happened. They’ll come after me.”
“We can go to the police, Vito. This is too much danger,” Gregor said.
Vito’s eyes darkened as he began to shake his head. “You don’t understand, do you? No one can help us now. Not the police, not anyone. If Kovac doesn’t kill me himself, one of Toma’s partners will. And then you’ll be next.”
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Dwight’s instructions were to stay put and to not engage Druseburg. He and the detective were parked at the base of the cliff where they could still see the property and anyone who drove up the long access road. A small hiking trail with a few parking spots was where they waited. They would have been easily overlooked, tucked behind one of trees planted around the perimeter of the lot, and it appeared they had been, as evidenced by the driver of the Lincoln Town Car that continued along the road. It was difficult to tell, but Dwight was sure the outline of a person in the back seat was Druseburg.
The hour was approaching dusk and the sun was just now setting over the horizon against an ocean backdrop that was magnificent. Nick’s car soon appeared and pulled alongside Dwight and the detective.
Nick’s window rolled down and he rested his elbow on the driver’s side door, leaning out. “He still up there?”
“I’m fairly sure of it,” Jameson began. “We saw his driver turn onto the private lane about thirty minutes ago. No movement since then. Are we going to go up there and have a chat with him or what?”
“Let’s go. Hop in. We should take just the one car.”
It took only a minute or two to make it up the drive. The view of the sunset was even more spectacular from the vantage point of the front of the home.
Nick stepped out and adjusted his shirt. “Must be nice.” He turned his head towards the ocean view. “I think Detective Franks should be the representative. It’ll be less intimidating,” Nick said.
Kate understood his meaning; intimating that a local police officer would raise fewer red flags than a federal agent, but the way Franks responded to the comment appeared as though she felt slighted by the remark.
Franks rang the bell and a much quicker response occurred, but by the same woman as before.
“Oh, I see you’re back. Mr. Druseburg arrived earlier and I told him you stopped by. Let me see if I can get him for you now.” The woman pushed the door against the jamb, but didn’t close it.
The breeze grew colder as the sun began to dip further beneath the horizon. The four of them waited for the man they knew to be Martin Druseburg, but there was silence between them all. No one was quite certain how this would play out. Druseburg was a man of high standing, a wealthy man who wouldn’t want unwarranted attention and so it was likely he would cooperate. That was the hope anyway.
Footsteps sounded behind the partially closed door. The steps were heavy against a marbled floor and it echoed. The large and ornate door slowly pulled open and revealed a man who stood not more than five feet eleven inches, maybe slightly less. Pudgy around the middle; a beer drinker or someone who just enjoyed heavy meals. His eyes met with the detective’s first. She was standing at the head of the pack.
“Mr. Druseburg?” she asked.
The man in the tailored shirt and pleated trousers glanced at the four law enforcement officials, although he didn’t yet know their origins, only assuming they were the law by the guns holstered at their waists. He rubbed his forehead beneath a too-low hairline – plugs, most likely – and began to speak. “Yes, what is this about? My housekeeper mentioned you came by earlier today. How can I help you—Officer?”
“I’m Detective Sergeant Franks with the Virginia Beach Police Department and these are federal agents. We’re here to talk to you about a woman who turned up dead not far from here.”
“Oh.” The man appeared taken aback. “Well, I’m certain I can’t help you with something like that.”
“Mr. Druseburg,” Franks continued. “Your DNA was found on the victim’s body. May we come in?”
All color drained from Druseburg’s face. He pulled the door open and stepped aside. “Come in—please.” He waited for the agents and Detective Franks to step inside the foyer. “It’s a little late in the day, but can I offer you any coffee?”
“Thank you, but none for me,” Franks replied.
The others dismissed the offer and followed Druseburg to his living room.
“Nancy, would you mind bringing in some water, please?” Druseburg asked.
The housekeeper made her way into the kitchen and Kate watched as she left. The house was stark, cold, and uninviting. Its marble floors gleamed beneath the stainless steel and glass chandelier that hung in the entrance. Kate turned back to see the others make their way into the main room. She followed behind, taking note of the lack of anything personal in the home. No photographs of friends or family, no books or magazines lying around or even on a shelf somewhere. In fact, it seemed as though the only warmth the home had to offer was the view of the sun over the ocean. It would disappear soon and so would its bright rays that still shone through the sliding glass walled panels inside.
“You’ll forgive me if I seem stunned, because quite frankly, I am,” Druseburg began as he hoisted up his pants and took a seat on the high-back leather armchair. “Can you tell me who this woman is—was?”
“We were hoping you could tell us.” Nick pulled out a picture of the dead woman they believed was possibly Madlena Jankovic. “They found her behind a laundromat a few days ago.”
Druseburg winced at the sight of the dark-haired girl, lying on the blacktop, sparsely dressed. “Well, I’m embarrassed to say that once in a while, I—um, how to put this so as not to offend anyone.” He looked at Kate. “I occasionally request the company of a woman who, in turn, offers that company at a price.”
“You hire hookers.” Kate’s brash retort seemed to take everyone by surprise. “For a man who appears to have a great deal of wealth, I find it hard to believe you would need to pay for any woman’s company. At least, not in the traditional sense.” She despised this man and looked at him through eyes that already passed judgment as to his guilt.
Nick cast a disapproving glance to Kate. “I think what my agent-in-training is trying to convey is that it seems unusual for a man of your standing to utilize the services of a drug addict-prostitute, which this woman was.”
“Is that how she died? Drugs?” Druseburg asked.
“I’m afraid s
o,” Detective Franks replied. “Mr. Druseburg, do you recall this young woman’s name? We have yet to notify her family, as we’ve been unable to identify her, and if it hadn’t been for evidence suggesting you were the last one to see her alive, then I’m not sure we would be here at all.”
Druseburg eyed the agents. “Why is the FBI here? A woman dies from an overdose, someone whose services I utilized at one point or another; I can’t exactly recall when just now. Can I ask why the FBI is involved?”
“There’s been a series of unexplained deaths recently, mostly in the southeastern region. Women, not unlike this young woman here, and what perhaps could link them together is what we believe to be their countries of origin. It seems as though these women are mostly likely undocumented immigrants. And we have reason to believe they are a part of a trafficking ring specializing in the sex trade.” Nick noticed Druseburg’s eyes flicker at his explanation. “Now, I’m sure you’d like us to be as discreet as possible, so I’m going to ask you what the good detective here already did. Do you know who this woman was?”
Druseburg studied Nick for a moment and it appeared as though the two were battling it out for dominance. Druseburg seemed to concede and turned to the others in the room. “Well, I don’t know if this was her real name or not, but she went by the name of Aster. I couldn’t give you a last name. I never asked.” Druseburg rose from the chair. “Now, I am sorry this young woman took her own life, but I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do to help you. If you don’t mind, I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.”
Nick was the first to take to his feet. “I see we’re done here, then. You’ve been very helpful, Mr. Druseburg. If you wouldn’t mind, I believe Detective Franks would probably want you to take some time out of your busy schedule to come down and make a statement. Unfortunately, as it seems you might have been the last person to see—Aster, was it? Then we’ll need to make sure we have all of the details from that final meeting.”