The Pretty Ones (A Kate Reid Novel Book 6)

by Robin Mahle

  Raquel moved closer to the desk. “You know that guy they’re looking for? The one who’s been—you know—killing those girls?”

  The officer’s expression turned deadpan. “You have information about that?”

  “Well, I’m not sure, but I think so—maybe.” She stepped back. “I don’t have a lot of time; I was just wondering if I could talk to someone.”

  He was losing her. “Yes, certainly. I think the detective in charge is still here. I’ll call him right now. It’ll only take a minute.”

  She nodded and began looking around nervously. She didn’t hear what the man was saying into the phone or to whom he was talking. All she could do was look and make sure no one she recognized was here. Paranoia had instantly consumed her.

  “Miss, Detective Sharpe will be with you in just a moment. Just stay here, okay?”

  “Okay.” Raquel folded her arms and began biting her lip.

  Moments later, Sharpe walked toward her. “Miss? Hi, I’m Detective Sharpe. You wanted to talk about something you saw?” He offered his hand.

  Raquel stared at it as though no one had ever offered to shake her hand before.

  “Can I ask your name?”

  “Raquel.”

  Sharpe noticed the tattoo on her right thumb when she finally returned his gesture.

  She glanced past him and watched as a cop held the arm of a man in cuffs. He emerged beyond the corridor and was approaching them quickly. Raquel locked eyes with the cuffed man and he scanned her up and down with ruthless eyes.

  He raised the corners of his lips just enough for her to notice. She knew this man. Not directly, but knew of him. He captured her gaze and held on to it until they walked by.

  Sharpe, noticing the exchange, tried to regain her attention. “Raquel, why don’t we talk in my office?” He reached for her shoulder to guide her.

  “I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I have to go.” She twisted beneath his grip and turned toward the door. Her hurried steps resonated on the tile floor.

  “Raquel?” Sharpe jogged a few steps to catch up with her. “You’re safe here. I promise, no one will hurt you.”

  Just as she reached the door, Raquel stopped. “Not here, maybe. I’m sorry. I have to go.” She was out the door before he could say another word.

  Sharpe dropped his shoulders in resignation and returned to the security desk. “What the hell was that?”

  “I don’t know. Something spooked her. All I know is that she said she had information about the Pretty Face Killer.”

  “Great. Well, whoever just walked by blew that for us. Son of a bitch. She could’ve been the one who called the news station.” Sharpe slammed the desk with the side of his fist and walked back toward his office. As he made his way inside, he picked up his phone.

  “Hey, I need a favor. Can you get me the phone records from Channel 7? I need to get the number of their anonymous tipster.” He paused. “Yeah, I know. I’ll call them first and get written permission. Thanks.” Hanging up the line, he considered his options and quickly started into the hall, almost running into Kate.

  “Where are you off to?”

  “I think the woman who left the tip with Channel 7 was just here.”

  “What? Did you talk to her?”

  “She left. Got spooked when she saw someone. I’m going to find out who that someone was and how he knows her.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Detective Sharpe’s return to the communications room revealed his irritation as he closed the door with more force than was necessary. His agitation then took the form of pacing inside the room.

  “Let me guess: no luck?” Kate asked.

  “Punk says he didn’t know her, just thought she was attractive, although that wasn’t the word he actually used.”

  “You think he’s lying?” Kate continued.

  “Damn right I do. Shit, I almost had her. She came walking right through my damn front door.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “The only thing I’ve got to go on is the tattoo on her thumb. It’s the sign of one of the gangs in the area. I talked to the gang task force and they’re telling me it’s the Pirus gang, who’s based in Compton, but are working to take over more territory.”

  “Doesn’t that put you right in the vicinity of where the last victim was located?” Nick asked.

  “Yes. So now Reid has a perimeter to narrow down her search for the unknown green car.”

  “That’s right,” Kate began. “This may not have been the ideal situation, but what if we can find her now because we know approximately where she lives?”

  “It does make it a little more straightforward, I suppose. I’ve requested the phone records from the news station. I want to get the number of our tipster and see if it belongs to this Raquel. Problem is, I don’t believe that punk kid, and if he does know her and saw her here?” He appeared reluctant. “She might not be around long enough to track down.”

  “What about the wig? Any luck there?” This time, Dwight turned away from his computer to speak.

  “We’ve requested they send us the names of the people who purchased the wig, but they’re refusing until we get a court order, which we’re working on now.”

  “Jesus. How the hell you get anything done around here when no one talks?” Nick asked.

  “We learn to work around it. Agent Reid, you think you could talk to your reporter friend? Ask him to put in a call to his buddy over there at Channel 7 and get those phone records?”

  “I’ll give it a shot. Depends on if those guys want to dig in their heels, which, frankly, I can’t imagine they’d do, considering the consequences.”

  “Whatever you can do, I’d appreciate. I’ll let you all get back to it. I’m going to see where this thug lives and ask the task force to take a drive in the area. They might see her around the neighborhood and if that happens, we stand a better chance of talking to her.”

  “Keep us posted and we’ll do the same.” Kate waited for him to leave before turning to Nick and Dwight. “You both have reviewed my profile summary. What do you think? Could this guy we’re looking for be a gang member?”

  “Based on what we know right now?” Dwight began. “I’d say no. It’s entirely possible he lives in a neighborhood with active gangs, but no, I don’t think he belongs in one. Doesn’t fit. This guy is acting alone.”

  “But possibly has a copycat or is using multiple disguises,” Nick added.

  “Possibly. Gang members travel together. Their strength is in their numbers. I mean, I’m no expert on the subject, but you could talk to the task force here to confirm. Rule it out, at least.”

  Kate nodded. “I still think he considers himself an artist. He’s putting on a show with these women. The disguises fit; being a part of a gang doesn’t. I’d better call Marc and see if he can pull some strings with the station manager and get us those records.”

  After Kate left, Dwight turned to Nick. “You think she’s on the right track?”

  “I do.”

  “But you’d like to ramp this up and take on a larger role?”

  “I think we could be of more use to Sharpe if we did. But I can see what Kate was talking about. He wants to be the guy in charge.”

  “Maybe more like you than you thought?”

  “Maybe.” Nick smiled. “In the meantime, I’ve entered markers into ViCAP. Now I just have to wait.”

  “Waiting’s never been your strong suit.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The incandescent light above Andre’s cubicle started to flicker, threatening to burn out. He glanced up at it with squinted eyes and a hint of disdain. He loathed his job and everyone who worked there. And now that he’d watched the morning news, he grew increasingly distressed, scanning those who walked past him in the halls, around his cubicle; everywhere. But it hadn’t been him who had been seen. It had been the man behind the camera. A man whose identity he’d taken on in order to catch a glimpse of his beautiful artwork before it was taken away. He hadn’t kille
d those women. Why should he be afraid?

  Because the only thing that kept him happy was following the man behind the camera. Slipping into his shoes as though he’d been the one to create such remarkable art. But he hadn’t. He was merely an observer, although now someone had seen the true artist or, at least, had caught of glimpse of him. And his entire happiness hung on the man’s capture. Oh, he thought the day would eventually arise, but he needed it to continue for as long as possible.

  “Just a while longer.” His lament was so apparent in his words.

  “Andre?”

  Miguel Perez seemed to appear suddenly and without warning, yanking Andre back into the present. “What’s up?”

  “Dude, you see that shit about that fucking guy? You know, the one who’s killing those girls and leaving them all like made up and shit? Fucking crazy motherfucker.”

  “Yeah, I heard about it. So what?”

  “So what? What the fuck is wrong with you, man? Don’t you give a shit about what’s happening in your own city? Shit. That’s cold, bra. I mean, you got a family and shit to protect. If I was you, I wouldn’t let them out of the fucking house until that motherfucker is caught.”

  “You came down here to tell me about some guy on the news?” Andre’s tone flattened.

  “Nah, man. I came down here ‘cause I need the weekly report. You were supposed to email me that shit two hours ago, remember? I got a meeting in like half an hour. You got the report or what?”

  “I got it.” Andre began typing on his keyboard. “It’s on the printer now.” He turned to Miguel. “Anything else?”

  “That’s it. Thanks, man. I’ll catch up with you later, all right?” Miguel walked away.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  From the comfort of his living room sofa, the man behind the camera logged on to his site. So many kind remarks about his latest work of art. She had been made beautiful, which wasn’t easy because he didn’t have much to work with. And even less of a desirable area in which to create. He considered showcasing her inside the glass case where the donuts were displayed. Even now, thinking about that, he laughed. But his entire purpose was to ensure the public witnessed his art. So he carefully placed her in front of the store.

  He remembered that he needed to replace the batteries in his flashlight because without that, he wouldn’t see the subjects well enough to apply their cosmetics. “Working under such conditions is a challenge,” he said to no one but himself. But as he waded through the praise of his followers, he came upon a comment that upset him. “That’s him. The one who followed me. It has to be.”

  With an avatar of the rapper Dr. Dre, the username of the follower was Dre1995. He noted it was the first time he’d left a comment. “Where did you come from, Mr. Dre1995?”

  At first, he was flattered someone would go through the trouble of tracking him down, but it could have cost him everything and that was unacceptable. But he’d wanted to goad the man on. Try lure him again, after a previous attempt had failed. Perhaps then he could put an end to the trespasser. “You think you’re going to try to take credit for my work? Is that why you’re following me?”

  This could not stand, especially when he’d been so careless as to have been seen already. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out it was the girls he offered to help. The only time he’d ever veered off script and now there was a description of him; in disguise, but still a description.

  So he would need to take matters into his own hands with regard to his overzealous follower. Make an example of him. He began to type a response to Dre1995.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “You guys want a coffee or something?” Kate asked as she noticed the time. “I need some caffeine.”

  “They got a breakroom around here? I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs for a minute. We had a long flight. Dwight, you want to step out for a few?”

  “Definitely.”

  The three of them made their way toward the breakroom when Kate began, “Sort of reminds me of Florida. When we were all down there together?”

  “A little. But this place is damn near as big as WFO. This is no little hick town,” Dwight replied.

  “Maybe not. Bad guys are the same, though. Still, feels good to be out of the office, doesn’t it?” Kate entered the breakroom first. “Wow. We need a place like this. It’s like a cafeteria in here.”

  “They’re a big city with a big city budget.” Nick opened one of the refrigerators. “At least they stock water. No soda, though.” He surveyed the room. “I see a machine over there.” He reached into his pocket for some loose change. “Anyone want a soda?”

  “No thanks. I’ll have a coffee with Kate,” Dwight replied.

  “It’s too damn hot in here for a coffee.” Nick plunked in three quarters and pressed the button for a Coke.

  “There you are.” Sharpe walked inside and hiked up his jeans. “Glad Agent Reid showed you the facilities. Listen, Captain wants to know if you three will join us for dinner. I know you haven’t eaten and it’s about that time. I told him we could spare an hour or so.”

  “Sure. I could eat,” Kate replied.

  “He’s a good guy, but he’s also got a reputation to protect and being seen with the feds will help settle the people’s worries about our investigation. And it’s on the department, so you should jump on that.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  They arrived at a restaurant called the Post and Beam. With modern design, it seemed more suited to the downtown LA entertainment district rather than South LA. Seated almost immediately, and likely due to the captain’s pull, the five sat down at a round table near the west side of restaurant that fronted the windows and overlooked the plaza.

  “I wasn’t expecting a place like this,” Nick began.

  “You mean here on Crenshaw Boulevard?” the captain replied.

  “No offense.”

  “None taken. The city and developers have worked very hard to rejuvenate the area. This is considered an up and coming location.” The captain paused to glance around the nearly full restaurant. “I started out on these streets in the late eighties. Things were very different then.” He returned his attention to Nick. “But a lot’s changed. Improved.”

  “Some things haven’t changed,” Sharpe said.

  “It’s a process. A long process, but we’re getting there and I do what I can to make myself seen in the community. Let people know we live here and dine here too. We’re just as much a part of it as they are and we care for it just as much.”

  “Sounds like it.” Kate raised her glass of wine. “Thank you for the invitation.”

  “You’re very welcome, Agent Reid. Sharpe here has told me how valuable you’ve been since you arrived a few days ago.”

  “She’s a very valuable member of this team,” Nick replied. “In the time I’ve known her, she’s become one of the best agents I’ve worked with. Along with Agent Jameson, of course.”

  “I was getting worried there for a minute,” Dwight replied with mild laughter.

  “So, Agent Reid, you reached out to your reporter friend. Was he able to offer assistance?” Sharpe asked.

  “I think for the next hour, we should table talk of the case and let our guests enjoy a few moments’ reprieve,” the captain said.

  “Absolutely, Captain, My apologies.”

  Sharpe was a man who didn’t do dinners and Kate sensed right away he was only there because his captain asked him. She’d had to face her own political dealings with the Bureau but now realized it was everywhere and there was no escaping it. “I did and he’s working on it. And that’s the last I’ll say about it for the duration of the meal.”

  At the end of dinner, they began to leave and made their way to the front of the restaurant.

  “Again, thank you for allowing us to spend some time with you. It was a real pleasure.” Nick offered his hand to the captain.

  “It was indeed. I look forward to continuing to work with your team on this investigation.” He turned to Sharpe
. “Ray, thanks for coming out. I know this isn’t your type of thing, but I appreciate it.”

  “No problem, Captain. I’m going to head back into the office and wrap up a few things before heading home.” He turned to Kate. “You three don’t need to come back. Go to your hotel and get some rest. I know it’s been a long day. I’ll see you first thing in the morning, hopefully with some new information.” He proceeded into the parking lot.

  “He’s a man of few words,” the captain began. “A good man and a hell of a detective, but doesn’t say much. Thank you all, once again, and good night.”

  “Goodnight, Captain,” Kate replied before turning to Nick and Dwight. “You guys already get checked in?”

  “Not yet,” Dwight replied.

  “Let’s get you a room, then. I’m tired, so I know you must be.” Kate walked toward the parking lot and pressed the remote to open her rental car door. “I’ll drive.” She slid onto the driver’s seat and waited for them to get in. “I’m staying a little farther away, nearer to downtown. Shouldn’t take long to get there.”

  “You seemed to have picked up things here pretty quickly. Already know your way around town?” Nick asked as he closed the front passenger door.

  “Sharpe and I drove around quite a bit yesterday. And you forget, I lived in San Diego. Been to LA on more than one occasion. Also, I have navigation.” She smiled and pressed the button that brought up directions to the hotel.

  Twenty minutes later, they arrived. “This is it. Holiday Inn Express.” She parked in front of the building. “See? I stayed within the Bureau’s allowance.”

  Inside, the desk attendant checked the two of them in.

  “You don’t mind if I get my own room, do you?” Nick asked. “I’d like to have some time to myself to analyze the case a little further.”

  “Are you kidding? If it means I don’t have to listen to you snore, I’m all for getting our own rooms. Why should Kate get all the benefits?” Dwight nudged her elbow. “Just kidding.”