The Girls They Lost

by J H Leigh

  “That’s the whole point,” Dylan said quietly. “If we win, they lose and they’re not going to let that happen.”

  “Hold up,” Hicks said, trying to make us feel better “everyone makes mistakes. Even criminal masterminds. I’ve seen it a million times. Arrogance will trip up even the most Type A motherfucker around. I don’t care who the fuck this Madame Moirai is…she isn’t perfect. Somewhere along the way, mistakes were made and we’re going to find them. So knock that shit off. No quitting, you hear me?”

  It was a shit excuse for a pep talk but the kernel of his message took root. He had a point. No one was perfect. The cleaning crew had overlooked the bobby pins stuck in the carpet of my room, which had enabled me to pick the lock. The guards had been more interested in getting drunk and playing cards than doing their jobs, which had enabled me to sneak around the auction house and free Jilly and Dylan.

  Madame Moirai had sucked Dylan into her scheme without realizing that Dylan would be a fucking nightmare to contain.

  I released a pent up breath, realizing something. “Hicks is right. Think of Madame Moirai in terms of a giant corporation with many moving parts…eventually, even the most well-oiled machine breaks down somewhere. We just have to find the broken cogs. If we can find the weakest links, we can use them to climb the chain.”

  Hicks gave me a crooked grin that almost looked like pride as he said, “You’d make a good cop someday, kid. You’ve got the head for it.”

  “Yeah, right,” I murmured. Me? A fucking cop? Not likely. But it was nice to hear someone say something positive about me that didn’t come with strings attached. I pushed a chunk of hair behind my ear, adding a quick, “Thanks” and I left it at that.

  Maybe today wasn’t going to give us the big breaks we were hoping for but it wasn’t all for nothing either.

  As it turned out…Kerri might’ve just found one of the weaker links — and it would feel fucking fantastic to squeeze the truth out of that motherfucker.

  20

  Kerri climbed into the passenger side, her cheeks pinked as if she’d spent some time walking around in the cold.

  “What’d you find?” I asked. “Was there a fire reported at a big mansion in the area?”

  “Yes,” Kerri answered, rubbing her hands together “but it was reported to be a kitchen fire that didn’t require a full detail.”

  I drew back. “A kitchen fire? What the fuck? I started the fire in the basement.”

  “Right,” Kerri confirmed with a self-satisfied smile as if she were about to reveal something epic. “So I took a stroll down to the fire department and talked to the fire chief. Nice guy. Real happy to help. He double-checked the report from the on-duty captain, it was logged as a kitchen fire and put out without incident. No one, aside from a few staff, were in the house at the time of the blaze and everyone evacuated safely.”

  I was confused. “That’s all wrong,” I protested, looking to Dylan. “Holy fuck, do they own this fucking town, lock, stock, and barrel? Jesus fucking Christ.” That last part was muttered between a sudden spring of tears choking my throat. “What are we supposed to do if they’ve got the local yokels to lie for them and falsify reports?”

  “Hold up,” Kerri said, “there’s more. Yes, the chief confirmed what was on the report but he doesn’t have reason to question a report on something as simple as a fire in the kitchen. I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t question the report. For him, it was less than nothing to think about. But just as I was leaving, a little frustrated at the dead end, an engineer motioned to get my attention and I followed him outside. Once out of earshot, he told me something that I can definitely work with.”

  I wiped my eyes. “Yeah? Like what?”

  Dylan leaned forward, her eyes hard. “Yeah….like what?” she repeated.

  “Engineer Ripp seemed on edge, anxiety rippling off him like waves of summer heat…he had something he had to get off his chest and after assuring him that he was doing the right thing and that it was just between us, he sang like a fucking canary. In fact, he was so goddamned relieved to get it off his chest it felt like a fucking confessional. I didn’t know if he expected me to give him a few ‘Hail Marys’ for his trouble.”

  Hicks caught on before us. “He was working that night. He saw something that wasn’t exactly on the report?” he surmised.

  Kerri nodded. “The fire had pretty much destroyed the basement area and some areas of the upper level but they managed to suppress the fire without any injuries and returned to the station. However, Ripp happened to catch an accidental look at the report right before it was filed and it sure as hell didn’t state the facts as he remembered them.”

  “Like how?” Dylan asked.

  “Well, the first thing, was, about the location of the fire. It was clear it hadn’t originated in the kitchen and the strong chemical smell indicated an accelerant but there was no mention of that in the report.”

  “He said there were staff? That means Olivia must’ve been in the house when the fire started,” I said.

  “Too bad she didn’t die,” Dylan said without a hint of apology. “Fucking cunt can burn in hell for all I care.”

  I shared Dylan’s feelings. I hated Madame Moirai for her part but Olivia’s role felt so much more insidious. She knew the degradation of being an auction girl and yet, she continued to feed girls to the beast knowing that they were likely going to die before they saw any money.

  Maybe it was savage but I didn’t care that Olivia had once been a victim. People made choices. If we were going to be judged for making the choice to sign on the dotted line, Olivia had to reconcile herself to the consequence of selling her fucking soul to the devil.

  “So what now? Is there a list of the people in the house? Wouldn't that have been in the report? If we can get a hold of the staff in the house we can start putting the pressure on them to get to Madame Moirai.”

  Kerri shook her head. “I got something better.” All of us were hanging on Kerri’s intel. “I got the name of the captain who wrote the report.”

  “Sounds like we need to pay a visit to this captain,” Hicks said, smiling for the first time. “Nice fucking work, Pope.”

  “So why’d this engineer rat out his captain?” Dylan asked, wary. “Ain’t nothing for free. He got beef with his boss? What if this is a trap or something? Madame Moirai had to know that we’d start asking questions about the fire.”

  “Under most circumstances, I’d have the same reservations as you but I have a sixth sense about people and I know when they’re lying. This kid was uncomfortable with what he’d discovered. Like, he just walked in on his hero fucking the dog. A good kid like that is going to struggle with finding out something bad about his mentor. Sometimes the idealizations of youth work in your favor when you’re chasing a case down.”

  “What’s the captain’s name?” I asked.

  “Darryl Farroni,” Kerri answered.

  A cold wave of revulsion washed over me. Could it be the same repulsive guard who’d been more than happy to put his grubby hands all over me when no one was looking? But how was that possible? I couldn’t imagine Asshole Darryl being anyone’s version of a hero. “Why would a fire captain moonlight as a security guard for a shady operation?” I asked, questioning if it could be the same guy. “That doesn’t make a lot of sense. Don’t fire captains make bank on their own?”

  “In the city, yeah sure. In rural areas where the fire department isn’t much more than a volunteer operation during the winter…not so much. A lot of firefighters and cops take side gigs to make ends meet in the offseason,” Hicks said. “It’s one of the reasons I worked in the city but my family lived upstate. Better environment, better money.”

  “How suburban of you,” Dylan quipped. “Okay, so let’s go get this bastard and break his thumbs or something until he squeals.”

  “No one is breaking thumbs,” Kerri said. “I’ll bring him in for questioning so everything is by the book. We need to be able to buil
d a case.”

  “Screw that,” Dylan said, growing angry. “They don’t play by the fucking rules. What makes you think that just because you’re trying to play fair that they will too? You said he hasn’t been around for a few days? My money is on one of two options: he’s dead or he’s gone. Madame Moirai doesn’t like loose ends, remember? What’s a fucking crooked piece of shit like Darryl Farroni considered? Pretty fucking loose, if you ask me.”

  I had to agree with Dylan. “We’re already here…we should just see if he’s around. I mean, you don’t need a warrant to be neighborly, right? Just make up some bullshit so you can look him in the eye and see if he’s lying through his fucking teeth.”

  "And then fucking put a bullet in his gut,” Dylan said as if that made perfect sense. “Gut wounds take longer to bleed out if you do it right.” Asshole Darryl had been pretty brutal with Dylan, too. Kerri better watch Dylan or the girl might just grab Kerri’s gun and do the job herself.

  “Dylan, calm the fuck down,” Kerri instructed, shaking her head. “I get that you want him dead and for good reason, if it’s the same guy but there’s the right way and the fucked up to do things. Trust me on this.”

  “Why? Because you’ve dealt with psychopathic secret organizations that traffic kids to rich pervs before? No, you haven’t. You keep tip-toeing around the ethics and you’re going to end up dead, too. Sorry, but that’s just the facts. Madame Moirai is a vicious cunt and she’s not going to stop at putting down anyone who gets in her way.”

  Kerri fell silent, as if digesting Dylan’s prophecy. The tension in the cab felt thick and heavy like one of my Gran’s old musty quilts she kept in the closet with the towels. “Even if you’re right, you still gotta be smart, kid,” Kerri said.

  But Hicks seemed to like Dylan's idea. “Stay with me a minute…wouldn't be too hard to get his address and do a quick drive-by, check out the lay of the land. Call it a welfare check. From what the engineer said he hasn't seen him in a few days right? Sounds like he might be in danger. That’s probable cause at the very least.”

  “This isn’t my jurisdiction,” Kerri reminded Hicks. “All I’ve got is professional courtesy. If I want to start making house calls under police business, I have to ring the local PD to assist.”

  “Yeah, and let whoever is on the fucking payroll know that we’re onto them? Sure, sounds like a great plan,” Dylan quipped with disgust. “Might as well put a fucking bell around our necks so they can hear us coming.”

  Hicks nodded in agreement, gesturing to Dylan. “Kid’s gotta point, Kerri.”

  Kerri wasn't amused with his input or the fact that everyone in the car seemed to disagree with her. “Look I know it's been a while since you've been an actual cop but in case you haven't noticed we have two minors in the car. What if shit goes down? I'm not taking the chance that Dylan and Nicole might get hurt."

  Hicks lit a cigarette, shaking out the match and blowing the smoke out the window. “Look I don't want them getting hurt either but they already have someone trying to kill them so I say we go check out this fucker and see what we can find out. It's not like we have all the time in the world to play things by the book."

  Kerri’s expression darkened. “You may not find value in following the rules but those of us still on the job understand that we can't just do what we want to do when we want to do it."

  "Oh hell, Kerri. Take the stick out of your ass for just a second and listen to what I'm trying to say. We're not gonna do anything but talk to the guy. Where’s the harm in that?"

  "This is a shit idea," Kerri growled but she was wavering.

  “Most great ideas always look like shit on paper,” Hicks said. “Stop thinking like an administrator and be a fucking detective. You and I both know intuition isn’t something you can teach. Listen to your gut.”

  “My gut says you’re a fucking menace to my career and if I keep listening to you, I’m probably fucked.”

  “Okay, ignore your gut,” Hicks returned with an almost charming grin.

  Kerri exhaled with a glower. “I swear to God if anything happens to these girls I'm gonna kill you myself."

  Hicks smirked. “Well honey, you'd have to get in line there's a long list of women that want to put me into the ground, starting with my ex-wife. Let’s go.” He turned the key and we hit the road again while Kerri found Darryl Farroni’s home address.

  Watching Kerri and Hicks interact was nothing short of a trip in a surreal world that felt oddly comforting. I mean, they're dysfunctional as fuck but I guess that was my comfort zone. I was relieved that Hicks talked Kerri into following up this lead. I was itching to finally connect some dots but I was also terrified of seeing that psychopathic man again.

  What gave me courage was knowing that both Kerri and Hicks would blow that motherfucker’s head off if he threatened me or Dylan…even if it meant breaking the rules.

  21

  The house, small and off the beaten path, was a little run-down but at one time had probably been really cute, like something from a postcard. Snow pressed on the aging wooden fence lining the yard and the arbor hanging over the entrance was losing the battle against time, sagging dangerously.

  Either Asshole Darryl had inherited the place from his family or he’d purchased a fixer-upper with the intent to put some sweat equity in to raise the value to sell.

  My money was on the inheritance. Asshole Darryl didn’t seem the enterprising type. Going by my experiences with the shit-stain, Darryl had been more of an opportunist, getting what he could get when the getting was good. I felt bad for anyone who’d ever had to call him a blood relation.

  “Someone isn’t really into home improvement,” Dylan quipped from the backseat, earning a nod from me.

  “All right, this is how it’s gonna go down,” Kerri instructed in a stern tone “you two stay here in the car. Hicks and I will check this guy out.”

  “You’re not going to know if it’s him or not if we don’t go with you,” I argued.

  “Yeah, and if it is him, he’s going to recognize you right away. Think with your head, not your heart. Emotion gets people killed,” Kerri admonished.

  I looked to Hicks for back up but he seemed to agree.

  Sullen, I slumped against the seat, folding my arms across my chest. “Fine, whatever.”

  Dylan was suspiciously compliant, simply nodding as if she thought Kerri’s plan was brilliant, which immediately told me she was up to something.

  Sure enough, as soon as Kerri and Hicks were out of the car and at the front door, she motioned for me to quietly follow.

  It was hard to move like a ninja in snow, each crunching step sounding louder than the next, but we swung around to the back of the house so we could get a good visual. From where we were, we could see inside the house and holy shit, the man was a terrible housekeeper.

  Or else, someone had come through his place with a wrecking ball and a grudge to settle.

  Dylan nudged me, pointing. Someone was lying on the carpet, a dark pool beneath him. “That fucker is dead,” Dylan said, shaking her head. “C’mon, we gotta tell Hicks and Kerri.”

  We ran to the front of the house, just as Kerri was poised to knock again. Dylan said, a little out of breath, “Don’t bother. Whoever lives here is dead. We saw him through the back window.”

  Kerri frowned, going around to a better vantage point to peek through a grungy window. “Sure enough, that’s a body,” she confirmed grimly. To us, she said with mild exasperation, “Do you ever stay fucking put?”

  Both Dylan and I shook our heads. No point in lying, right? Besides, it was a rhetorical question. Like she really expected us to sit in the car like a bunch of toddlers? Yeah, sure. The whole ‘running for our lives’ situation had dampened our already weak ability to listen to authority.

  “Do we call it in?” Kerri asked Hicks.

  “Not our jurisdiction, remember?” he said, shoving the door open with his shoulder. The flimsy lock busted and the door swung wide. The
faint smell of decomposition lingered in the air. The cold winter air had slowed the process but that dead guy was definitely disintegrating into a pile of gunk.

  We followed the adults into the house, careful not to touch anything. I covered my nose as the smell became stronger. “Why are humans so gross?” I asked mostly to myself. I inched closer for a better look. The corpse was on its back, staring up at the ceiling, a giant gash in his throat.

  “Guess we know how he bit it,” Dylan quipped, staring dispassionately at the dead guy that we both recognized within seconds.

  I could almost feel his fucking hands on my throat, smell his rancid breath on my cheek. I swallowed, sharing a look with Dylan, confirming, “That’s him. That’s Asshole Darryl. Looks like Madame Moirai decided it was time to do some layoffs.”

  Neither of us felt anything but satisfaction that he’d died gurgling on his own blood. There was no telling how many auction girls he’d abused before meeting his end. Personally, I would’ve liked to see more evidence of his suffering before he bled out but dead was dead and that was enough.

  “Why do you think they used a knife and not a gun?” Dylan asked, curious.

  “Knife is quieter,” I supposed. “Probably learned their lesson from their failed attempt at offing us. Guns going off attracts a lot of unwanted attention.”

  “Decent theory,” Dylan said, shrugging. The fact that we were discussing methods of murder with the casual calm of going over a grocery list wasn’t lost on me — or Kerri by her expression.

  Hicks, on the other hand, was more interested in examining the body. I appreciated that his narrow focus didn’t leave much room for worrying about our broken psyches.

  I hated to play to stereotypes but sometimes they just rang true no matter how hard you tried to avoid them.

  Kerri had more empathy, even if she wasn’t the hugging type. I could see in her eyes that she worried what our end game looked like after this experience. We might be irrevocably broken inside. I guess that was a problem for later. I flicked my gaze away from hers and returned to watching Hicks.