Free at last, yes—but bound for the rest of their lives to the memories of the horrific nightmare they had just lived through.
CHAPTER 31
“Aw, that’s so sweet!” Amanda said.
“Gotta admit, they seem to like each other.”
Alan had been skeptical that Pan and Henry would warm up to each other during their first official meeting but what he was witnessing exceeded his expectations. The two pooches were snuggled up together on one of the family room chairs. Henry was licking Pan’s ear affectionately.
“I told you Henry’s a pushover,” Amanda chided. “Now do you believe me?”
“I do. He’s always seemed so skittish whenever I’m over at your place—like he needs a nerve pill or something. So I just figured a dog that hyper would definitely freak Pan out, but obviously I was dead wrong.”
“Can’t win ‘em all,” she smiled.
“Guess not.”
It had been nearly a week since Alan and Amanda had successfully resolved their respective cases, both on the very same day. Alan figured it had to be some kind of record in the history of private investigation, and he made a vow to look into it when he got the chance.
Amanda took a sip of her Margarita. “Uncle Ken is still insisting on paying us, you know. He won’t take no for an answer.”
“First of all, he should be paying you and leave me out of it. It was your case from the very beginning. All I ended up doing was bail out on you.”
“That’s not true. You’re the one who got the ball rolling. I just sort of took over after you took the other case.”
“Please do me a favor—don’t be so damn modest!” Alan said.
He took a slug of his beer. “What you did was absolutely incredible and you deserve full credit. I don’t know how in the hell you did it, to tell you the truth, and when you left here last Sunday morning I thought you were heading out on a wild goose chase. The last thing I expected was to get a call saying you had Royer wrapped up in duct tape and the case wrapped up as well!”
“Oh ye, of such little faith!” she chuckled. “Okay, I’ll admit that, unlike you, I was positive that Clark Royer was the one who had murdered Jodi. You won’t believe this, but I had this undeniable feeling I was on the right track—that he had done exactly what I thought he’d done. My greatest concern was how I was going to prove it. There, now how’s that for not being modest? Do you like conceited better?”
“That’s not conceit, it’s simply the facts. I’ve seen it before. You really do possess something—call it women’s intuition or some kind of psychic power—that enables you to see things I sure as hell can’t see. Whatever it is, I am both in awe of it and thankful for it. I really don’t think I could ever have solved that case myself and that’s a fact.
“I never told you this, but your undying faith in Nick Wilburn was beginning to run a thin with me the longer we spent on that case. I mean, seriously? The evidence against him kept piling up to the point that I was having some major doubts about his innocence. But I gotta give you credit—you were absolutely right. You hung in there, and your faith in your old friend never once faltered.”
“Oh yes it did,” Amanda said. “When I drove to his home in Indiana and asked him about that email he’d sent Jodi, he started getting really weird. Then he suddenly pulled out a gun and pointed it right at me! At that moment, I not only thought he was guilty, but that he was going to shoot me and then himself! It was terrifying, the look on his face that very moment. So yes, my faith in Nick did falter.”
“Yeah, but it didn’t take you long after that incident to renew your faith and resume your search for the real bad guy. So impressive! Is Nick doing any better, by the way? How did your conversation go today?”
“He’s much better now that this is all over. He’ll never get over losing Jodi, but at least now he can move on with his life. He’s actually moving back to Milldale, believe it or not.”
“Jesus, that sure doesn’t sound like a very good idea. No offense, but Milldale doesn’t seem like the most promising town in this state to settle down in.”
She grinned. “You’re telling me! You already know my thoughts about that place so you couldn’t possibly offend me.” Her expression grew serious. “The move might actually be good for Nick. He’s been offered his old job back and he really wants to be there for his parents during their present crises.”
“I see what you mean. So what’s the latest on Royer? You mentioned something earlier about more incriminating evidence showing up?”
She nodded. “Uncle Ken says that not only did they find some of Jodi’s grandmother’s jewelry stashed away in Royer’s house, they think they may have a lead on where he’s been fencing his stolen loot all this time. That could eventually help them link Royer to some other burglaries they think he may have committed.”
“Any guesses on how long he’s been at this game?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s been for a long time—maybe even since he started working at Davidson and Associates. If you could have seen how much he has invested in those classic sports cars and that place of his, you’d know what I mean.”
“I wonder if he’ll ever give up what happened the day he murdered Jodi.”
“Hard to say, but I seriously doubt it. The guy’s an absolute control freak—or maybe ‘closet control freak’ is a more fitting term. I think the only time Royer feels in any kind of control is when he’s preying on somebody—when he has a weapon in his hand and his captive is at his mercy with no means of escape. But once you take that power away from him, he’s a freaking morph. No balls at all. He lives this seemingly normal, boring life at his nine to five and nobody is the wiser. Then once he’s off the job, he immerses himself in plotting out his next conquest and Doctor Jekyll becomes Mister Hyde.
“My guess is that Royer took immense delight in controlling Jodi that day. He probably pulled out his gun and threatened her, ordered her to do this and that, reveling all the time in his absolute omnipotence and her helpless submissiveness. Then after he’d gotten everything he wanted out of her, he killed her.”
“So you think he’s murdered other victims as well?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me in the least. He told me it was the challenge he enjoyed more than anything else—along with the control. Well, simply burglarizing a home wouldn’t be enough for him—he needs a victim added into the equation that he can bully around. Assuming that’s the case, simple logic says that he can’t let the victim live—they’d be able to identify him, otherwise. So he kills them. That’s my theory, anyway.”
“Sounds plausible to me. You know what? You sound like you’ve been in this business a hell of a lot longer than a week! You sure you’ve been leveling with me all this time? I could almost swear you’ve done this sort of work before.”
Amanda chuckled. “Thanks for the flattery, but I can assure you I’m a total novice at this investigation thing. My sum total of crime solving has been vicarious, while reading mysteries—lots of mysteries.”
“Well, they’ve served you well is all I can say. Simply amazing.”
Henry suddenly leaped off the chair and hopped onto Amanda’s lap. The little terrier licked her face furiously.
“Thank you, Henry! You better watch out or your new girlfriend will get jealous!”
As if on cue, Pan hopped on Alan’s lap, not to be outdone by their guest.
“I think they love us,” he laughed as Pan gave him kisses. “I’ll go get us another drink.”
Just as he stood up, one of the cellphones rang. His iPhone and the burner were lying side by side on the coffee table.
He picked up the burner, put it on speaker and answered. “Swansea.”
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Ron Fleming said.
“Not at all. What’s up?”
“Some not so good news. Apparently Mansky has been working solo in Columbus. Which means that the kingpin of this whole operation is still at large somewhere�
��possibly in Miami.”
“So they’re not going to be able to snuff out the entire operation after all.”
“Doesn’t look that way. Chuck Townsend, the agent who’s been filling me in on the FBI investigation, says that although all of Mansky’s men have been gathered up and charged, none of them are talking about any other accomplices.”
“Have they discovered any more victims?”
“No, they have not. The good news is they believe that the six children rescued in Bexley were the only victims currently involved in the Columbus operation. That doesn’t mean there haven’t been others in the past who have since been moved elsewhere, but at least those six have been taken out of the picture.
“Mansky’s Columbus operation was one of only a very few that exclusively involve wealthy clients and very young children. Because of the high-profile nature of their clientele, this sort of operation is more about very high rates for a relatively small number of victims as opposed to those with no degree of specialization. Because of this, Mansky was able to live very comfortably with minimal effort by way of his careful screening of potential clients having the financial means necessary to pay for his specialized services.”
“So who was Phillip Steven Evans, the owner of the Audi?”
“That was just one of Mansky’s several aliases. What’s interesting is that Mansky had bought the Audi for his lover, one Thomas Prichard. Prichard, along with Daniel Henricks, were in charge of grooming the kids, among other things. There is enough damning evidence in the Bexley house to put those bastards away for life.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Video tapes. Graphic and disgusting—you can’t begin to imagine.”
“Jesus. I sure hope those kids get plenty of support and counseling.”
“That is all being arranged as we speak. There is some light at the end of the tunnel, at least.”
“How’s that?”
“Gracie really wants to help the victims. They say that reaching out to other victims is one of the best methods of recovery. She can’t wait to get started, in fact.”
“That’s wonderful. So, at least some good has come of this. That has to make you feel good.”
“It does. But it’s not near enough.”
“How’s it going with Brock Matthews? Any chance of his compliance in the case, or is he still refusing?”
“As you already know, he’s hired himself a big-time defense attorney who’s doing everything he can to protect his client. Since Mansky is dead and the local operation has been virtually wiped out, Matthews probably doesn’t fear for his life so much anymore. So my guess is it’s going to be very rough getting him convicted.”
“That figures. The rich always seem to get away with murder.”
“Pretty much. Speaking of finances, I sent payment for your services today. I want you to know that it’s been a pleasure working with you and I hope we can perhaps work together again in the future. What do you think?”
“Sure, I’d like that. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you exactly what you were looking for in this case. Maybe I can make that up to you in the future.”
“Nonsense! I’ve already told you how pleased I am, how well this has turned out in light of the circumstances—I couldn’t have asked for anything more. The fight against human trafficking will march forward, and I have found in you a formidable ally. I look forward to working with you again, Alan.”
“Thanks, Ron. Please stay in touch.”
“Will do. Good evening.”
“So Fleming wants to hire you again,” Amanda said.
“Looks that way. Gotta say, I feel pretty good how this turned out, even though we weren’t able to slay the big dragon. Just freeing those kids from their bondage makes it all worthwhile to me. But it’s just the tip of the iceberg. There shouldn’t be a single person exploited that way—ever. And to think that a huge chunk of trafficked victims are young children is egregious.
“You know what the problem is? The problem is the fact that there’s scum like Brock Matthews out there who provide the reason for this sort of thing to exist in the first place! If it weren’t for the likes of him and his pedophile cohorts, there would be no market for the sexual exploitation of children. Kids wouldn’t be abducted and sold into sex and shitheads like Isaac Mansky would have to find a different line of work. It’s all about supply and demand. Remove the demand and there’s no need for the supplies.
“So if Ron Fleming asks me to give him a hand in his cause again, I’ll be all for it. I will in fact look forward to it.”
Amanda saw the passion in his eyes and it was infectious. Sitting beside her was a man she both admired and respected without question. A man who made her feel complete.
She leaned over and kissed him hard. “I love you, Alan Swansea.”
“I love you, too, Amanda Linville.”
“So are we a team, or what?”
“We’re a team.”
They kissed again to seal the pact.
THE END
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