Death Match

by Emma Rose Watts

  Harvey smiled. “Convenient. Well, I’ll speak with him, you handle Taylor.”

  He handed over the tablet, thanked Jenna and headed out. Skylar caught up with him outside and grabbed him by the arm. “Probably best I speak with Callum.”

  “What?” She frowned. “No. I’m having words with him.”

  “You really think you’re in the right state of mind to deal with him?”

  “My sister was found in the water. Her body was dragged out just like that woman in there, I’ll be dammed if he is going to get away with this again.”

  “Let me speak with him.”

  “No. This is between me and him.”

  He pulled away and headed out into the bright morning sunshine. A warm breeze blew against Skylar’s face as she fell in step. “Harvey.”

  He continued walking without looking back.

  “Harvey!” she said louder. This time he stopped.

  “What?”

  “I get it. I do. You want justice for your sister and now this comes along and offers you a smidgen of hope. But remember, this is about these two women not your sister.”

  “Until he is behind bars, it’s always about my sister. I’m handling this.”

  With that said Harvey got into his vehicle and drove away. Skylar remained there for a few more minutes chewing over whether she should follow him just in case he got himself into hot water. But she knew it was pointless. Harvey had to be the one to deal with this. Even though she had been working there a month, she was still very much an outsider even to her partner. She got back into her truck and veered into downtown Carrabelle heading for the apartments out on highway US 98. Her mind was lost in the fine details of the case and the lack of evidence. Right now all they were dealing with was circumstantial. Reznik had updated her on what the CCTV footage had uncovered and so far it aligned with everyone’s alibi. The surveillance video from the apartments showed LaSalle entering and leaving on the night before the murder. It also showed Tyron arriving and collecting her that night and Teresa returning the next morning. What it was missing was any footage showing someone kill her or someone leaving the premises shortly after. Sure both girls worked for the same agency but that didn’t mean that would hold up in court. They needed something concrete.

  Chapter 11

  Skylar knocked at the door of Taylor’s apartment. As she waited for someone to answer she looked over the front railing and thought about what might have occurred that morning. Surely, someone must have seen it, as the balcony at the back of each apartment was visible to anyone walking on the beach. Whoever did it had to have moved fast and must have been willing to take a risk.

  She heard movement inside. Feet shuffling towards the door. It cracked open just partly and Taylor looked out.

  “Yes?”

  “Ms. Hall. I’m Detective Reid. We spoke yesterday morning about Teresa.”

  “I remember.”

  “Can I talk with you inside?”

  “This is really not a good time.”

  Her eyes were red as if she’d been crying.

  “It’s about where you were last night.”

  “I was at a photo shoot in Miami.”

  Skylar smiled. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I…”

  “Another girl is dead, Taylor. Another model from the same agency that you work for, now I think it’s best we have that talk or I can take you down to the station. Whatever works.”

  She brought a hand up to her face and closed the door. Skylar heard the latch on the back of it slide and then it opened and she motioned for her to come in. Inside it was a nice-looking apartment — organized, tidy, and well cared for and with the same layout as Teresa’s place. Her eyes roamed the photos on the wall of her and Matt. Some were from some exotic place. They were scuba diving.

  “Matt around?”

  “No, he’s working.”

  Taylor gestured for her to go into the living room. Skylar headed in and noticed the way Taylor walked as if she had hurt her back. Her movement was slow. She was wearing a light pair of jeans, and a turtleneck sweater.

  “Did you injure yourself?”

  “Just went a little hard doing yoga this morning. Pulled a muscle in my back. Please, take a seat.”

  Skylar sat down. In front of her was a glass table with four lifestyle magazines spread out, and a bowl of fruit. On the wall directly across from her were some different shots of Taylor, partially nude but tasteful as if she was modeling for some blanket company. The product was draped over her as she sat on the floor. Taylor noticed and pointed to them. “Those were some of the first shots from my portfolio. Matt liked them so he put them up.”

  “Does Matt know you didn’t go to Miami yesterday?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean. I was there.”

  “C’mon Taylor, I saw you in Apalachicola outside Elite Matchmaking. You got into a limo with Ricardo and headed down to the marina where you boarded a yacht.”

  “No, you must have me mistaken with someone else.”

  “Taylor, don’t take me for a fool. Last night the body of Nancy Prescott was pulled from the waters in Apalachicola. She worked for the same agency as you and Teresa. Now we know LaSalle is involved somehow.”

  Her head dropped. “Can I get you some coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  She got up and placed a hand on her back before crossing the room to the kitchen and going about putting a pot on.

  “So why did you lie to Matt?”

  She paused what she was doing and didn’t look back as she replied. “He wouldn’t have understood. Look, his business isn’t going very well and my income covers the majority of the bills we pay. He’s just starting out and well as much as he doesn’t mind what I do, there are some things that are best left out of conversation.”

  “You think that’s a way to start a marriage? You are going to get married, right?”

  She continued making the coffee. “Yeah, we are.”

  “You love him?”

  “He’s a good man. I do.”

  “Look it’s not for me to say what you should do but take it from me, holding back the truth from others can land you in deep waters that you can’t get yourself out of later.”

  She turned and brought in two cups of coffee on a tray along with milk and sugar and placed it on the table.

  “Last night. It was just a job. That’s all. Good money. I couldn’t turn it down. What you need to understand, detective, is that modeling can be lucrative if you are in the top five percent. But if you’re not at the top, well, you can be scraping the bottom of the barrel just to pay rent. ”

  “And what did the job involve?”

  She took a seat and Skylar could tell she was wrestling with it. Taylor sat across from her and placed her hands in her lap. She twisted around her engagement ring. “You know it’s related to matchmaking. There are guys that want to meet women and…”

  “But you’re engaged.”

  She cast her eyes down. “I know. But it’s not like that. They pay us and several other models from different agencies to mingle and fill up the place, you know, make it look busier than it actually is.” She paused. “Look, I shouldn’t be saying this, and you can’t tell anyone but they throw these parties as part of their matchmaking service.”

  “Right and they charge a hefty fee for each event.”

  She nodded looking a little embarrassed. “Myself and some of the other women are paid to act interested. They told us that they already have someone picked out that matches what the client wants but they make a lot of money by throwing these events and they like to give the impression that they have a large pool of single ladies. We have a few drinks, are introduced to the client, sometimes we have a bite to eat and then we go on our way.”

  She leaned forward and picked up her cup and nursed it with both hands while taking a sip.

  “But what happens if he’s interested in one of you?”

 
“LaSalle already knows what the clients like and dislike. If they start to get too friendly with one of the models, he has us tell the client something that turns them off. So if the client likes hiking, we’ll tell the client we hate it, or if the client says they love pets, we’ll say we have an allergy, and so on. The whole point of us being there is to make Elite Matchmaking look good. They’re still in the process of building their base in Florida, at least, that’s what we were told.”

  “But isn’t the pool of women who show up to these events meant to be a match?”

  “Yes. No. It’s a little more complicated than that. All I can tell you is what we are told. How they are managing to give the clients what they want isn’t my concern. Also, there are only a few times that the clients end up liking one of the models. Most of the time they have someone arranged for the guy. Either way, we’re just there to make the place look busy and successful. Most of the clients are ugly, anyway. They have more money than sense.”

  Skylar nodded and sipped her coffee. “Then why did you leave with Ricardo?”

  “Um…”

  She stumbled over her words and Skylar could tell she was trying to come up with an excuse.

  “Let me go out on a limb here. You were offered a little extra to hook up with some clients, am I right?”

  She got up and walked over to the fireplace. She picked up a photo of her and Matt and stared at it. “It’s not like that.”

  “Isn’t it? Does Matt know?”

  She spun around, folding her arms. “How I earn my money is my business, detective.”

  Skylar placed her cup down and rose. “You’re right, it is but when we have two dead women on our hands, it becomes our business. Taylor, these women were from the same agency as you. Now I’m not sure who murdered them but it has something to do with those events. Now I need to understand what is going on. Or do you want us to be searching for your killer next?”

  She stared at Skylar for a few seconds, her mouth opened then closed. “Several of us have been asked if we want to make a little extra money by keeping some of their VIP members company onboard the St. Catherines. It was the first time I’d been on the boat.” She paused. “It was an extra thousand dollars for a couple of hours of my time. I couldn’t turn it down.”

  “And so who was your client that night?”

  She tossed a nervous glance at the door. “Some old guy from Miami. He ran a large importing and exporting corporation.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Phoenix.”

  “His real name?”

  “He didn’t tell me. Each client goes by a bogus name for privacy reasons.”

  “And what did he want?”

  “Just to talk and have me there as company while he played a few games of poker and then we went back to a room where he had me massage him. That’s it.”

  “And the clients before him?” She paused. “C’mon Taylor, I know you’ve done this before. What about those before him? Did they just want to chat?”

  “Yeah, that’s all.”

  “Are you sure that’s all?”

  She nodded, walked over to the table and bent down to pick up the tray. Her top slipped up to reveal welts on her back. Skylar walked over and lifted it further. There were long marks, lashings as if someone had taken a whip to her.

  “Yoga injury?” Skylar said in a disbelieving tone. “Did they do that?”

  Taylor was quick to pull her sweater down. “You have no right. No right! Get out of here.”

  “Taylor, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth.”

  “I’m telling you the truth, you’re not listening.”

  “Then tell me this. Who was Nancy Prescott with last night?”

  There was a moment of hesitation and then she replied. “A few guys.”

  “All night?”

  She scoffed. “I was a little preoccupied.”

  “Right, giving someone a massage. Now I understand why you lied.”

  “Get out!” Taylor said pointing towards the door before charging over, opening it and thrusting her finger outward. Skylar stood there for a second then exited. She heard the door slam behind her. She fished into her pocket for her phone and made a call to Harvey.

  “Reid, this better be good.”

  “You arrived yet?”

  “Nearly.”

  “I spoke with Taylor. She has whip marks on her back. Refused to tell me where they came from and initially lied to me about her whereabouts last night. Finally she said she was paid to keep company with an old guy going by the name of Phoenix and gave him a massage. I swear she’s covering for them but what I can’t figure out is why?”

  “You remember what Tyron said. The operation is just all smoke and mirrors for what is really going on behind the scenes. I wouldn’t be surprised if Elite’s VIP members are paying a little extra to inflict pain on these girls.”

  “Or maybe Ricardo is inflicting pain to keep them from telling the truth about what is really happening on that boat.”

  “You saw that girl’s back, Reid, no, no one would willingly endure that.”

  “You’d be surprised at what people are into,” she said. “Anyway, get back to me with what Callum has to say and Harv, please, keep your cool.”

  He snorted. “You’re telling me?”

  Skylar was looking down, not paying attention when she bumped into an oversized man. Her phone dropped, and she stooped to scoop it up.

  “Oh, excuse me, I’m sorry,” the man said. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Skylar glanced up and met his gaze. He was six foot, pure muscle, had a full beard, hair pulled back tightly into a man bun and a hard tan as if he’d spent his entire life in the sun.

  “It’s fine, I was…” She trailed off pointing at him and he reached up and touched his face.

  “Do I have something on my face?”

  “Your nose.”

  He wiped his bright-red nose and glanced at the white goo, then started laughing.

  “It’s zinc oxide, prevents the sun from burning my nose. I work outside.”

  “Oh,” she said before chuckling. “You’re a… fisherman?”

  It should have been obvious by the stench of fish coming from his clothes.

  He nodded, smiled and went to walk past her. That’s when she recognized his voice.

  “Matthew, right?”

  He turned and squinted. “Yeah, and you are?”

  “We spoke on the phone. Detective Reid.”

  “Oh.” He smiled. “Right. I remember.” He then thumbed over his shoulder. “Guessing you came by to speak to Taylor.”

  “Yeah. She said her shoot went well in Miami.”

  “Did she?”

  “You haven’t spoken to her since last night?”

  “No, we had a spot of bad fishing yesterday so a bunch of us went in and worked through the night.”

  “Must be challenging.”

  “Yeah. You never really know how things are going to pan out.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “Well look, nice to have met you. I’m gonna call it a day. I’m exhausted.”

  “Sure. Matt…”

  “Sorenson.”

  “By the way. Congratulations on getting engaged,” Skylar added.

  “Thanks,” he said then headed off down the walkway towards his apartment.

  * * *

  The air was thick and humid as Harvey reached the tip of Eastpoint. He brought up his window, turned the air on as his truck rumbled over the four miles of bridge, which crossed Apalachicola Bay and connected Eastpoint with St. George Island. Callum Jackson owned a number of properties along the Forgotten Coast. One of which was located on one of the last inhabited and unspoiled barrier islands in Florida. St. George Island was 28 miles of sand, pristine marshes and offered ideal areas for fishing. On any given day in the summer, visitors could be seen sunning and shelling the uncrowded expanse or swimming in the Gulf waters. Harvey had been there countless times over the years, mostly because his
father had owned a beach cottage when he was a kid. The beauty of the place was that there were no high-rises or chain stores to be found, it was just a tranquil area where visitors could rent beach cottages, a multi-story beach home, a lodge or a hotel room and go for long walks along the beach. And the state park, well that was just beautiful. However since Callum had bought a spot of land and erected one of his beachfront mansions, Harvey hadn’t stepped foot on the island. Everything about the man made him want to vomit. Callum had been a thorn in his side ever since he joined the department. While his work brought him in close proximity to all types of criminals in the underbelly of the Sunshine State, occasionally he would cross paths with those who had ties to Callum. In almost every case, they had managed to slip through the net and escape justice. The recent arrest of Lars Jackson had been the first time they’d put a dent in the Jacksons’ empire. Maybe that’s why he continued to work with Skylar. She might not have done everything by the book and she had a way of getting under his skin, but it was hard to deny that she was a good cop and maybe just what Franklin County needed to bring Callum to his knees.

  As Harvey got closer to St. George Island he glanced out across the sparkling waters, and soaked in the magnificent landscape of sand dunes, picnic pavilions, palm trees and underbrush. It brought back a flood of fond memories. As he hung a right onto Gulf Beach Drive heading west, he glanced at the brick lighthouse that provided a panoramic ocean view. He drove on past a pizza shop, blue and white clapboard homes and numerous gift shops until the road changed into Leisure Lane. He continued until he reached Hawthorne Lane. He felt his chest tighten as he followed the road down to the impressive beachfront mansion that made all the other residences pale in comparison. It was a two-story, cream and white abode with a wraparound deck, huge windows and three garages.

  He pulled up to the gates, brought his window down and pressed the button on the security system. It clicked, and he heard it beep a few times before someone came over the speaker.

  “Who is it?”

  “Detective Baker, Franklin County Sheriff Department. Here to see Callum Jackson.”

  There was a buzzing sound and the iron gates with a lion on the front opened allowing him to enter. As he rolled up in front of the house, he spotted two flashy sports cars parked at angles near a large fountain that was spewing water. Harvey killed the engine and made his way up to the front door. There was already one of his staff there to greet him. He gestured for him to come inside without saying a word and Harvey entered.