by J. D. Allen
Tomorrow, come daylight, they’d visit the next crime scene in the file. Ely said it was in an abandoned warehouse. No electricity. Known area for gang activity. Jim was beginning to doubt any of the old crime scenes were going to give them much on where Sophie might be now. But all they had was the FBI file. He needed to retrace Sophie’s steps.
The waitress seated them and handed them menus. O ordered two margaritas, on the rocks, with salt. She went on her way. The menu was similar to every little Mexican joint in the world. Jim knew what to order without looking. He studied the picture instead. Sophie looked happy. Dan was smiling too, but his eyes didn’t reflect her joy. He was a teenage boy with a kid stuck to him like a shadow.
The waitress put down the drinks. O ordered his chicken enchiladas. Jim dropped the picture. “Speedy with beans.”
“Chicken or beef, sir?”
“Beef.”
“Is that Beth?” She pointed at the picture of Sophie and Dan.
“You know her?” Jim held the picture out for the woman to take. She was in her late thirties, maybe early forties. Old enough to have been around.
“Yeah. She comes in a lot. Well, she used to. I haven’t seen her in years.” She shrugged. “She got a big-time job and moved outta the ghetto.”
“We’re trying to find her for her mother.” Jim made sure he made eye contact with the woman. Softened his face. “Do you know where she went to work?”
“Not sure. It’s been a while.”
He nodded, not wanting to pressure her. The memory could be a temperamental thing. He was in no hurry, he had tacos and margaritas to enjoy while she thought on it.
O spoke up. “We think she changed her name too. You know what last name she was using back then?”
“Girls do that around here.” She looked down. “You know she was working the streets then. Getting a real job was a big deal. She was so excited.” The waitress tapped her pencil to her lip. “Stratford … or maybe Stafford.”
Nice. Something to go on. A good lead from an unexpected source. He loved his job. Not that this case was really his job, was it? His job here was to make amends for his colossal fuckup of bringing Sophie to Dan’s doorstep.
“I’ll get you waters too.” She left.
“You are a lucky bastard.”
Jim half laughed. “Not me, bro. My luck is all bad. Remember, it was my luck that got me into this.”
She rushed back over. “Stanton. Elizabeth Stanton.” She looked quite pleased with herself. “I remember her pretty good. She would come here before going out for the night. She’d buy extra food. We thought she was feeding some of the homeless folks that lived under the overpass. Or maybe some of the other girls. I talked to her a lot. So did the old manager. But he’s long gone.”
Jim did not to think of Sophie as a saint delivering food to the helpless. She was a bat-shit crazy killer. Psycho. Maybe she was nice to people to get what she wanted. Stands to reason she was helping these people to get something from them.
“That’s great”—O looked at her nametag—“Alejandra.” He, of course, used the perfect accent to make her name sing.
She beamed at him. “I’ll put in the order for your food. It won’t take too long.”
“Thanks, love,” O said to her as she departed, garnering a quick smile over her shoulder.
Jim was already texting Ely the name Elizabeth Stanton. “Do you get laid? I mean does that shit work?”
“I don’t do it to get laid.” O smirked. “But that is sometimes a side effect of being nice to women. You should try it.” O tilted his head. “Maybe just being nice to anyone you’re not in the process of trying to get information out of.”
Wow. That was the same thought he’d just had about Sophie Evers. “Tried it once. Didn’t suit me.”
Jim saw her as soon as the door opened. Suit wearing, not sweating in the heat Special Agent Ava Webb. She made short work of scanning the room and finding his face. There was no hiding from her. He tucked the picture, which he’d left out to help with Alejandra’s memories, into his pocket.
“Mr. Bean.” She glanced at O and gave him a small head nod. Very professional. She dragged over a chair, positioned it at the end of the booth, and plopped down in it. Her legs crossed with grace. Her shoes were sexy, but very sensible.
“Join us,” Jim said, none too friendly.
“Hello.” O leaned toward her. “And who do we have here, Jim?” O stuck out his hand. “Oscar Olsen.”
“Hello, Mr. Olsen. Or should I say Double O?” She let her gaze swing back to Jim for an instant before she took O’s hand. “You have an interesting history.”
She thinks she’s so smart for knowing everything. Well, it was her job. It was also fucking irritating.
O didn’t flinch. His background was a tragic, painful mess and he wasn’t the slightest bit ticked off this lady Fee Bee knew his deets. “And you have beautiful eyes.”
Jim, meanwhile, needed to make a visit to his anger-management class over the fact that his records were still available to her. He’d seen his sheet in that file. He wondered if Miss Know-It-All understood the ramifications of his arrest and exoneration. That he’d be in her shoes right now if that night, that lie, had never happened.
“I seem to be the only one without the pleasure of your acquaintance, Ms. … ”
“Special Agent Ava Webb.”
“Ahh. Lady Fed. Very nice to meet you.” O exchanged an approving look with Jim. As if he had anything to do with her appearance or her presence at the table.
Jim had no worry that O would give her the information they’d just received, but little Miss Alejandra might just do so when she brought the food. Jim was not ready to share his boon with the FBI just yet. First on the scene gets the best info.
Webb leveled her steely gaze back on Jim. “I assume you’re here investigating Sophie Evers?”
He glanced around the tacky restaurant with its dime store sombreros and brightly painted mural. “Just visiting Dallas. Lovely city.” Most of it was. This particular area, not so much.
Damn, her eyes were green. Really green. Like his cat, Annie’s, eyes. Green and deep and mischievous. Her hair was a normal brown but it seemed to be vibrant even pulled back in that tight-assed ponytail.
“I suggest you find a better area for your vacation needs, Mr. Bean. We have an active investigation to run and we don’t need you muddying up the waters. We’re recanvassing; you don’t have to.”
We. Her quiet suit of a partner must be around. Made sense.
Alejandra was coming with the food. O slid out of his side of the booth and excused himself with a brief word in the waitress’s ear.
She set the plates out. “Would you like a menu, señora?”
“No, thank you.” Agent Webb only gave the girl a fleeting glance before turning back to Jim.
He gave her his best surprised expression. “You ordering me out of city limits, Sheriff?”
She cracked a tiny smile. “I’m asking you to go back to Vegas and wait for word from us. We have this under control. Go play bodyguard there.”
Ouch. “I think I like it around here. Considering moving down south.”
“It’s hot and humid and you won’t like the locals.” She stood. “I know your cop buddy must have shared something, or everything, from our file, Mr. Bean.”
O folded himself back into the booth. “Call him Jim. He’s not as bad as you think when you get to know him.”
She didn’t reply to O. “If you fuck this up, Detective Miller’s ass is in hotter water than yours. This is our jurisdiction, and our investigation. Go home.”
But it’s my responsibility.
“You can’t make me leave.” Jim raised his brows, knowing the Feds could well make trouble for him, O, and Miller if they wanted to. But she couldn’t make him go. She had no author
ity over him.
“I can have your investigator’s license pulled. Stealing federal files is a serious offense.”
He smiled at her. Well, she could probably do that. But it would take time. And if he solved this case before she got his license, what would she have to gain? “Do your worst, Agent Webb.”
She marched away. Jim tried not to watch her go. He failed.
He turned back to O. “No way she can send us packing.” But Jim did worry about her pressing charges on Miller for something like mishandling federal evidence.
“You have to go the hard way all the time, don’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“That one? Out of all the women in Vegas, that’s the one who heats up your tamale?” O took a big bite of enchilada.
“What are you talking about?”
He chuckled and dipped a chip. “You got the hots for her. Might as well take out a banner and fly it over the neighborhood, bro. It’s written all over your body.”
“Is not.” Jim felt the lie on his lips. His luck sucked.
32
The margarita was harsh. Probably the cheap tequila. But it was cold and it contained a good amount of alcohol. Basic survival needs.
The food far surpassed his expectations. The hole in the wall in Dallas was as close to authentic Mexican as he could get without a passport. No sour cream, no corny uniforms or giant blow-up beer bottles. He was about to happily bite into his second taco when Special Agent Ava Webb marched right back in the restaurant. Toward him. She still looked good, but she didn’t look happy.
“Miss me already?”
“Apparently.” Webb kept her gaze steady. “I’m not exactly in a sharing mood. But I get why you’re interested in helping Dan. And I get that there’s no way you two are going to back off … Is there?”
Jim gave her a shrug. She only knew the half of his desire to get Sophie Evers. He wouldn’t be enlightening her on the rest.
Her face briefly twisted into disgust before she spoke. “I just got a call from Vegas.”
She didn’t immediately elaborate. Jim’s heart pounded. Her stern face was not helping. She’d make a great poker player.
“Cops found a body in the backyard behind the safe house, just outside the fence. The guy’s throat was slit. My agent said it was messy. Probably unplanned and happened fast. ME just picked him up. Early guess on time of death was late last night. Dan and his mother are fine.”
Jim’s world tilted. “How’d she find them?”
Webb took the question as an invitation to sit. “Who knows?” She took a chip from the basket and bit off a tiny part of the triangle.
O pushed the salsa in her direction. “Miller moving them?”
Another safe house would be best. Unless she was hanging around to follow them to the new one. But why kill right there? Why not go on in and get Dan?
She took another chip and loaded it up. Jim should warn her he’d ordered the extra hot. He didn’t. Let her play rough and tough.
She didn’t pause to question the dip. Whatever. She bit down on the chip. No flinch. Didn’t reach for water. O pushed his over just in case. Jim had thought about it but decided to make her sweat it out. Problem was, she wasn’t. Can’t fake that shit either. When a normal guy’s mouth is on fire he sweats, turns red, eyes water.
“You read the file, right?” Still no signs of stress from her. Nada. Assumption: Jim and Miller had broken her rules and had the FBI file. There was no reading this chick. He couldn’t tell if she was fishing for something to nail him on or what.
He shrugged. Wouldn’t directly incriminate Miller.
“I’m thinking you know Sophie’s killed in spurts. The first two in Stephenville, Texas, were anger-motivated. She saw the girls with her man and that’s that. Blatant disrespect. Obviously doesn’t value human life and she’s got the drive to continue to kill like a serial.”
She looked at O. “Then here in Dallas. It was a hodgepodge—some look revenge-motivated, some for profit, and a couple could be spite or practice with a new technique. With each one, though, she got smarter, stronger. The girl lives like a shadow. Selling drugs right under our noses, turning tricks. Then she goes silent for years.”
Agent Webb finally took a sip from the water glass. But it wasn’t in desperation or pain. She could take the hot stuff. She continued, now looking past O more than at him. “Since it seems your Danny boy is her final target, I’m thinking the closer she comes to fulfilling that long-term goal, the hastier the killing, the more her mental state is deteriorating. Her perception is getting more and more shattered. That plan, it’s been her driving goal for years and now it’s time to act. It’s do or die. The guy behind the house looks like a slip in her control.”
“You one of those profilers?”
Her gaze snapped to O. “Took a couple classes, but it’s not my job description. My guess is she just lost it when the neighbor came up on her. She was snooping around and got spooked. Why else would she kill right there? It’s dangerous. Very bold, more like stupid. She’d have to have known we’d yank them out of that house and place them somewhere under deeper cover.”
“She’s done more than one stupid thing.” Jim almost wished the words back in his mouth. But Agent Webb was sharing; he should too. She may give him even more. She could drag him in and question him even though he had already shared most of his exchanges with Sophie. She had the report from Miller.
“Hiring me wasn’t all that bright. She asked me not to confront Dan after finding him. That’s all well and good. And if this had been an adultery case, I would have followed that request to the letter. Nothing but a photo and video confirmation. But her backstory on Dan was too far off. It didn’t match the guy I found. Dan didn’t remotely look like a lost junkie. I followed my gut.”
“Good thing for him.” She took another swig. Still no sign of sweating the hot sauce. “Sophie’s good at hiding her identity. She’s done an inordinate amount of prep work. So much so that she’s lived several separate lives at once. She’s not dumb. Why hire you to track him down in the first place?”
“Hiding and finding are two different things, Agent Webb.” O took an enormous bite of his enchilada.
Webb watched him chew. Big guy with a big bite was quite the sight. She stayed silent as he took a rather large swig of his ’rita before continuing. How did people get so comfortable with this man so fast?
“Finding takes connections and legal avenues. Hard to use legal avenues when you’re trying to stay off grid as much as she is.”
She tapped the table. “You got a line on anything I need to know, Bean? You can stay and share, or go home and follow up that death in Vegas. But I’m lead. I cannot have you interrupting my investigations.”
She was right. It would slow things down if she was interviewing the same people Jim was. They did have a little something Ava Webb did not: a name. He wasn’t sure he wanted to give it up. She might take it and go off and leave him out of the loop. She could. She should.
He would.
Alejandra refilled their waters. “You sure you don’t want nothing?”
“Am I staying or going, boys?”
Jim wanted to be around the hot sauce–eating Special Agent Ava Webb, even if his gut told him she was trouble. As in girl trouble. The feeling made him want to tell her to shove off. “Let me in on a part of it.”
She balked, leaning back in her chair. “Not a chance.”
“I can help. I’ll be quiet. All input after your interviews. I need to be doing something here, Agent Webb.”
She huffed. Considered. Jim, O, and Alejandra were all staring at her.
“I’m a dammed good PI.”
Webb stood, paused at the edge of the table for a moment, silent. Maybe trying to talk herself into a sharing mood. Maybe trying to talk herself out of it. He was
n’t going to say anything and make her decision fall against his favor. He wasn’t fond of working with the Fee Bees, but they had fucking good resources. And in this case, the end goal was the same for both of them.
“This is against protocol,” she said finally.
O looked at the waitress. “Staying.”
She sat back down. “No menu, I’ll have the Speedy with beans.”
O barked out a laugh over the food order coincidence and winked at Jim. He got a frown in return. O just kept grinning. Dear god, the man was going to try and play matchmaker. Jim would put a stop to that easily enough. For now, business.
“Waitress recognized a picture of Sophie. Said she was a pro until she got a good job and moved on. Said she went by the name Elizabeth Stanton.”
Webb stopped with a chip almost to her lips. “Like the social activist?”
“You know the name?” O asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Elizabeth Cady Stanton was one of the early advocates of women’s rights. Basically started the suffrage movement. You know, equal rights? Women get to vote?”
“Oh.” O dabbed at some melted cheese that had found its way onto his shirt. “That Elizabeth Stanton. Out of context. I wasn’t thinking in historical terms.”
She tapped out a text. “I’ll see what we find on Elizabeth.”
He wondered if Ely would find something as fast or as good as the FBI.
33
Jim was drying off when he heard the knock at the door. He’d jumped in the shower right after leaving the restaurant. Wanted the grime and sweat of the dying neighborhood and the steamy Texas heat off his skin before he went to sleep.
“Yeah?” He never put his eye to a peep hole.
“Pizza delivery.” O’s rumbly voice was easily recognizable.