Fatal Frenzy: Book 9 of the Fatal Series

by Marie Force

  “You’re really not sure what they were doing?” Sam asked with thinly veiled skepticism.

  “They weren’t supposed to be there.”

  “Were any of the other students there with them?” Sam asked.

  “Several of them,” Debbie said, seeming chagrined to admit that. Some chaperone she’d been. Her underage charges had been out drinking on her watch.

  “I’d like to speak to everyone who was with them. Get them in here.”

  Freddie’s phone dinged with an email. He showed Sam and Gonzo photos of two gorgeous young blonde women.

  One of the other chaperones returned to the room with two boys and a girl who looked like she’d been crying for hours.

  “Your names?” Sam said.

  “Brian Watkins.”

  “Tyler Johnston.”

  “Wednesday Alexander.”

  “Your real name is Wednesday?” Sam asked, her brow raised.

  “Yes, I was born on a Wednesday, and my mom liked the name. I go by Wendy.” Wednesday had dark hair and eyes and the palest skin Sam had ever seen.

  “You were with Mindy and Jennifer at a bar in Georgetown last night?”

  The three young people exchanged nervous glances.

  “Let me make this really simple for you,” Sam said. “Tell us what we want to know here, or we’ll take you into custody and escort you downtown where we won’t be anywhere near as friendly as we’re being right now. That’s a lot of headaches and paperwork we’d prefer to avoid.”

  “We were with them,” Brian said. “At a place called McDuffy’s in Georgetown. We heard online that’s the place to go if you’re not quite legal and want to get served.” He ventured a glance at Sam. “Are my parents going to hear about this?”

  Sam gave him a “what do you think” look.

  “How many drinks would you say Mindy and Jennifer consumed while you were with them?” Freddie asked.

  “I don’t know,” Wednesday said, “maybe six? Or seven?”

  “What were they drinking?”

  “Jennifer likes cosmos, and Mindy prefers vodka on ice,” Wednesday said.

  “Was it just the five of you?”

  “From our group, yes,” Wednesday said. “Other people joined us during the night. A couple of guys started hitting on them, and they were dancing with them. When we were ready to leave, they told us to go ahead and they’d catch up. I woke up this morning, and saw that they never came back, and when I tried to call their cell phones, the calls went right to voicemail. Their phones are never off. Never. That’s when I started to get scared. I let Mrs. McLane know that they hadn’t come back, and she notified hotel security.”

  “Can you describe the guys?” Sam asked, liking this less by the minute. Who leaves their friends alone with strange guys in a strange city?

  “One of them had dark hair and eyes. The other one had lighter hair and blue eyes.”

  “Call up the photo of Androzzi,” Sam said to Freddie, playing a hunch.

  He produced the photo on his phone and handed it to her. “Was this one of them?”

  “Yes!” Wednesday cried, her eyes widening. “Do you know him?”

  “Unfortunately, we do.”

  “Unfortunately?” Mrs. McLane asked. “What does that mean?”

  “He’s a known human trafficker and is wanted in connection with the murder of our detective earlier this week.”

  Sam watched as the older woman’s eyes rolled back in her head and moved quickly to catch her before she landed on the floor. She eased her onto the bed. Debbie came to, sobbing hysterically.

  “We have to find them!” She struggled against one of the other women who tried to comfort her.

  The third chaperone handed Sam a page with the missing girls’ cell numbers. “Write down their Twitter and Instagram info too.”

  While Brian held a sobbing Wednesday in his arms, Tyler pulled out his phone and looked up their accounts and added their profile info to the page.

  “Is there anything else we need to know before we go looking for them?” Sam asked. “This is no time to keep secrets. Your friends’ lives may depend on you being forthcoming.”

  Wednesday began to cry harder. “They… They… Tell them, Brian.”

  The proverbial deer in the headlights, Brian could only stammer. “Uh… Um…”

  “They run a MovieTime channel,” Tyler said.

  “What does that mean?” Sam asked.

  “It’s like a webcam inside their dorm room where they give…performances…and stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  Tyler blushed to the roots of his blond hair. “Sex stuff.”

  “Fucking Christ,” Gonzo muttered under his breath. “They were targeted.”

  Mrs. McLane only wailed louder. “We’re going to lose our jobs over this.”

  “Be quiet, Debbie,” one of the other chaperones said, echoing Sam’s thoughts. “What can we do to help find them?”

  “Get me the address of this MovieTime channel.”

  Tyler again took to his phone, his fingers flying over the screen. When he’d located what he was looking for, he handed the phone to Gonzo, who took down the URL.

  Sam handed her card to the more rational chaperone. “You’re going to want to let their parents know what’s happened. Have them call me as soon as possible.”

  Debbie’s wailing escalated to epic levels, which led to the rational one slapping her square across the face.

  “Shut up right now. I mean it.”

  Stunned into silence, Debbie whimpered pathetically.

  “Well done,” Sam said to the slapper. To the rest of them, she said, “Call me if anyone hears from them in any format—tweet, Facebook post, Instagram, SnapChat, MovieTime, whatever. Any contact from them is to be reported immediately. Got me?”

  They nodded and mumbled their assurances.

  “For their safety, we’re asking that you keep the information we shared with you about their abductor in this room. I will take care of informing their parents about his involvement when they call me. Do you understand?”

  More murmurs and nods.

  “If I see anything about this case anywhere online, we’ll start making arrests.” She left them with that and headed for the door, Gonzo and Cruz following her.

  “Are they going to be okay?” a tearful coed asked.

  “Let’s hope so,” Sam said.

  The second they exited the hotel Sam, pulled out her phone to call Malone. When he took her call on the first ring, she said, “Our big problem just got a whole lot bigger.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “I need an immediate warrant for the security footage at McDuffy’s in Georgetown,” Sam said after she’d filled in the captain on the latest development. “We also need to let Best know we’ve had a sighting of Androzzi right here in the District, so he’s close by.”

  “In light of the information about the MovieTime channel, this meeting sounds like it might’ve been prearranged,” Malone said.

  “Our thoughts exactly. Get Archie on tracking down their cell phones and getting me a dump of their text messages. Highest level of urgency. We got to get this guy before he ships them out of the country.” Sam didn’t have to add that their chances of finding them after they left the U.S. would be dramatically lower. “We’re heading to the bar now. Get me that warrant nine-one-one.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Sam closed her phone. “Put that stupid tablet to use and call up that MovieTime channel. Let’s see what our girlfriends have been up to in their cushy dorm rooms.”

  While she drove through congested roads made more so by the inauguration preparations, Freddie worked on the tablet.

  “Holy crap,” he said
.

  At a stoplight, Sam got an eyeful of naked breasts as well as up-close-and-personal shots of other female body parts. One of the girls was lying on a bed, masturbating with a gigantic dildo while the other narrated the scene and handled the camera work.

  “Christ, I need a shower,” Sam said after thirty seconds of watching the big-breasted girl writhe about on her bed. Under her was a comforter with red poppies on it. Her mother had probably bought that for her sweet kid’s college dorm room, never suspecting it would be seen around the world under her naked daughter as she performed sex acts for perverts.

  “Is this what college kids are doing for fun these days?” Cruz asked.

  “There’s a lot of money in it,” Gonzo said. “See the label on the dildo? The manufacturer probably pays them to use their products. And they charge for subscriptions to the channel too. I bet they’re rolling in dough.”

  “Androzzi’s probably been cultivating them for months,” Sam said. “They walked right into his net by coming on this school trip to DC.”

  “We should call for backup when we raid the bar,” Gonzo said.

  “Go ahead and do that,” Sam replied, pleased to see him engaged, at least partially, in something other than his grief.

  He made the call while she drove to Georgetown.

  Freddie checked his phone. “Wow, fastest warrant in the history of fast warrants.”

  “That tends to happen when we’re looking for someone who killed one of our own,” Sam said.

  She double-parked in front of McDuffy’s on Wisconsin Avenue. Pre-Stahl, she might’ve gone charging in there ahead of the arrival of her backup. Now she waited. Whatever was in there would keep for the five additional minutes it would take for Patrol to arrive on the scene.

  In addition to the Patrol officers, Marshal Best arrived at the bar too.

  “This is where Androzzi was spotted last night?” he asked Sam when she got out of the car.

  “Yep. We’ve got two missing college coeds who were seen drinking and partying with him here last night. They’re both nineteen and were here on a college trip for the inauguration. According to the hotel roommate, she and two of their male friends left them here with the guys, one of whom they identified as Androzzi, and didn’t realize until she woke up this morning that they never made it back to the hotel. Both their phones are off, which apparently never happens, and we’ve learned that they were MovieTime stars with their own dormitory peep-show channel.”

  “How much you want to bet that Androzzi was a subscriber?” Best said.

  “I’d bet the farm,” Sam replied. Seeing everyone was in place, she said, “Let’s do this.” They marched into McDuffy’s where a small lunch crowd was seated mostly at the bar. She flashed her badge. “Lieutenant Holland, MPD. I need to see the manager or owner.”

  A wide-eyed female bartender bolted from behind the bar and disappeared into a room in the back of the building. She returned a minute later with a man in tow.

  “What’s this about?” he asked, taking in the crowd of cops in his bar.

  “Who are you?” Sam asked.

  “Joe Warren, the owner of McDuffy’s.”

  “Are you aware, Mr. Warren, that your bar has a reputation for serving underage people?”

  His eyes bugged and his face turned a shade of purple that had Sam thinking of Stahl. “Who told you that?”

  “The nineteen-year-old college kids from North Connecticut University who were in here drinking last night.”

  “We check ID for everyone we serve.”

  Sam held out her hand for Freddie’s phone.

  He handed it over with the screen open to the warrant.

  “This here is a warrant for your security footage.” She gestured to a camera over the bar. “And don’t tell us you don’t have it or it’s broken or any other bullshit. Two of those college students you served last night have gone missing. They were last seen in the company of a known human trafficker who’s also wanted for the murder of an MPD detective this week. He too was a customer here last night, so make it easy on yourself and get us that film.”

  “Fine.”

  She nodded at Freddie to go with him. “You,” she said to the bartender, “come here.”

  The woman looked like she might crap her pants as she made her way over to Sam. “What’s your name?”

  “Vanessa.”

  “Do you have a last name?”

  “Christie.”

  “Did you work last night, Vanessa?”

  “I pulled a double yesterday. I was here all day.”

  “Gonzo, show her the photos. Did you see these girls or this man here last night?”

  “Yeah, they were partying pretty hard until about midnight or so when they left.”

  “Did you see them leave together?”

  “I um, yeah.” Her eyes darted nervously between the gathered law enforcement officers. “I saw them leave. The girls were pretty hammered, and the guys sort of seemed to be kind of holding them up.”

  “Do you frequently over-serve your customers?” Sam asked.

  “We didn’t over-serve them. I cut them off an hour before they left.”

  “Drugged,” Best said under his breath. “Did you happen to see the car they left in?”

  “It was a black SUV that pulled up to the curb as they were leaving. I was clearing tables in the front so I happened to see it.”

  “Was it a car service?” Freddie asked.

  “I didn’t see a sign in the car window. In fact, the windows were tinted, so if there was a sign, I might not have seen it.”

  To Gonzo, Sam said, “Get with Archie to see what cameras we have on the street.” She walked to the back office where Freddie had disappeared with the owner. “I want the film from outside too, while you’re at it.”

  Freddie held up a thumb drive. “Already got it.”

  “I didn’t know they were minors,” Warren said from his seat at a computer terminal. “You ever seen some of the fake IDs these kids are using? You try to tell them apart from the real thing.”

  “I don’t have to tell them apart,” Sam said. “That’s your job.” She gestured to Patrol. “Take him in.”

  “Take me in?” He leapt to his feet. “What the hell for?”

  “Serving minors is against the law. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Finish it up for me, boys.”

  “You fucking bitch! You think you’re so high and mighty because of who you’re married to!”

  Sam moved in close to his face. “Actually, douchebag, I thought I was high and mighty long before I was married. Get him out of here.” The Patrol officers dragged Warren through the bar, kicking and screaming about having people’s jobs the whole way. “Wow, I enjoyed that.”

  “Welcome back, Lieutenant,” Freddie said with a pleased smile. “Nice to see you again.”

  Sam cracked her knuckles. “Thank you. Now, let’s get that video back to the house and see what magic Archie can do for us.”

  It was, indeed, good to be back.

  * * *

  On the way to HQ, Sam received frantic phone calls from the parents of the missing girls. She assured them law enforcement officials were doing everything they could to find their daughters and promised to call with any updates. She had no choice but to tell them what she knew about Androzzi and what they were up against in finding the girls.

  Their fear and panic had left Sam feeling queasy. Before Scotty had come into her life, she would’ve empathized with them as any caring human being would. But as a mother herself now, these situations hit her much harder than they used to. Scotty was turning her into an old softie, she thought, but that wasn’t such a bad thing. Her sharp edges were in bad need of the kind of smo
othing out that had happened since her son came into her life.

  At HQ, Sam went straight upstairs to IT and had the supreme misfortune to run into Special Victims Unit Sergeant Ramsey on the stairs. For some unknown reason, he hated her guts.

  “Well, look who’s back,” Ramsey said with a snide smile. “Have a nice vacation, Lieutenant?”

  “Fuck off,” she said as she went by him.

  “Ohh, someone’s touchy. I thought our old friend Stahl would’ve taken some of the starch out of you, but I can see—”

  Sam would never know what he could see because she whirled around and punched him square in the face, sending him flying backward down the stairs. Ouch. That sounded like it hurt. Without waiting to see if he survived the fall, because who cared if he did or didn’t, she continued along her way to the IT Division, which was run by her former sex buddy Lieutenant Archelotta.

  “Archie!” she called over the hum of computers and the click of keys coming from cubicles. “I need you!”

  “Story of my life.” The handsome officer stepped out of his office, his dark eyes twinkling with mirth as he received the disk Sam handed him. “Women always need me for something.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Easy, Romeo. If you can get me a license plate number off the black SUV that made a pickup outside this bar last night around midnight, I’ll find someone willing to kiss you square on the lips.”

  “Wow, you know how to get things done, Lieutenant.” The commotion in the hallway caught his attention. “What’s going on out there?”

  “Oh, I might’ve punched Ramsey in the face, causing him to fall backward down the stairs.”

  Archie stared at her, agog. “You did what?”

  “He had it coming. So about my video—can you look at it now?”

  “Um, yeah, I suppose I can do that, but since you’re going to be arrested any minute, there’s probably no rush.”

  “There’s a big rush. Our cop-murdering human trafficker grabbed two college girls in town for the inauguration. Time is not on our side.”

  “Jesus. Let me see what I can do.” He took the disk into his office, slid it into the drive and got busy clicking away while monitoring two huge screens. “Around midnight you said?”