Savage Deception
Page 17
Zheng was as sarcastic as he was sadistic. He didn't get angry. He enjoyed when girls fought, enjoyed when they cried.
"Detective?"
She stood and followed the prison employee escort through a second set of doors. Here, they had her stop in an office and hand over her gun, cuffs and phone, then did an over-the-clothes search. They checked through her file folder before handing it back to her. "Sorry about that, Detective. You're not in Kansas."
She shrugged. "Don't be sorry."
"He's been in isolation much of his time here. It's for his own good."
Yep, she thought. Inmates don't like pedophiles. It made her warm all over.
"We got you a room and a guard."
She was surprised, although she made certain not to show it. "That'll be helpful. Thanks."
The prison guard showed her to the room. She wasn't sure if the sight of her old captain would bring a reaction from her or not. It didn't. It took a lot to get a reaction out of her from anything.
He was thinner, much thinner, but she must have expected this because it didn't faze her either. He looked ten years older. She wondered why he hadn't offered a deal, why he didn't roll over on any of his accomplices but not enough to waste time asking him about it. Subsequently, his trial was fast, his incarceration faster and his transfer to one of the country's highest-security prisons faster yet.
She nodded a greeting to him as she sat.
The room was probably the size of his cell, small, five by nine. Brick walls, painted gray. Duncan wouldn't have much to memorize in here. Tanner sat at a metal table and chair. As she lowered to her seat, she noticed the legs of his were bolted to the floor. Tanner wore some kind of restraints that were a cross between a seat belt and a straightjacket. His hands were cuffed to a dip in the table. Northridge had to get one of these, she decided. The guard stood behind her.
She sat and leaned back in her chair, letting the feet in the front hover above the floor.
"What brings you to my humble home, Nick?"
No greeting. No small talk. Good. She slid the first print from the file folder and turned it to face him. It was an older photo of Tanner in Manhattan. He was a detective at that point. She'd never known he worked in Manhattan. Most cops didn't run background checks on their bosses. The picture was at a routine press conference. Zheng stood in the background like he thought he was Secret Service.
Tanner's eyes went from the photo to her. Was it because of Zheng? She could wait him out if necessary and rocked on the back legs of her chair again.
"Did you fly halfway across the country to ask me about a cut and dry closed case?"
"Just trying to piece together some loose ends." She placed the next photo in front of him. He didn't look at it. She was losing him. He stared at her long and hard before dropping his glance. This one was of Tanner as he accepted accommodations for 'outstanding detective work' in the dismantling and arrest of over a dozen perps involved in a prostitution ring. She and Duncan had mused they were likely the competition. She didn't mention Zheng in the background for this print either.
He stared at her long and hard. She could practically see the suspicions running through the backs of his eyes. "What is this about, Nick?"
It made her cringe to hear him loosely use the nickname most everyone in the police force used with her.
He didn't stop there. "Are you piecing together cases that happened when you were... in high school?" The pause was slight, but she caught it. He knew. He knew about her past. How long had he known? Bastard.
The final print she slapped down on the table with force. Tanner wasn't in this one. It was one they had found of Thurmond Moody. Thurmond Moody and the captain of the Baltimore, Maryland, Police Department.
Moody had an arm up, clearly deflecting the questions from the mass of reporters gathered around them. Next to the Baltimore police captain stood two officers who were tagged as New York cops. The ones that had found her, fifteen, barefoot and dressed in yellow lingerie, pounding on the door of the residence they were investigating. And next to the officers was a teenage her. She was dressed in white jeans and a light blue winter coat. The final pair in the line was her parents. They stood and appeared as relieved as any parents who found a lost daughter. Nickie clung to the officer nearest to her, not to her parents.
Zheng was in the background dressed as a driver and stood near the back passenger side of a large black car. She'd looked at this photo before and never noticed him. His demented, sick, jovial aurora was absent. This was the only time she could remember seeing Zheng angry. Flustered and angry. It had become her favorite picture of him.
"You have no idea what you're dealing with," Tanner said, sounding suddenly tired.
"Which brings us to why we're here in your humble home," she said, using her fingers to make quotation marks in the air.
"It could be worse," he said.
"What are you talking about? Zheng isn't a drug cartel."
He visibly winced at the mention of the name.
She took the chance and kept rolling. "He isn't in a gang with ties inside the prison system. I, on the other hand, can get you isolation. Permanent isolation. Not the kind you earn because you've been used as a boy toy by other inmates due to the nasty little habits you had before you came here."
They sat there like that, at an impasse for what seemed like twenty minutes. It was probably only one or two. Sensing she was losing him, she tried a different tactic. "What about Moody? How high does he go? He's been in this, after all, for at least twenty years." She hoped she was right.
"Moody's a tool. A drunken tool."
She remembered Tanner's use of the term back when he was her boss. He meant it as an ignorant pawn whose only use was routine, mundane operations.
"New Year's Eve is a regular night for early teen prostitution. What others?"
She knew her former captain well enough to know he was considering her offer. She didn't have more to offer him.
"You know anyone who likes boxing?" he asked.
* * *
Nickie slept soundly, the rise and fall of her back slow and steady. Her long waves of honey wheat splayed across her back and pillow. The scars peeked between strands like haunting beacons, reminding Duncan of her past.
He knew of four people who were in some way responsible for them. Two of them sat behind bars. Zheng and Moody were the other two, and they consumed his thoughts.
He hadn't prodded her with the dozens of questions that filled his waking moments. Was Zheng the one who put the scars there? Or was he one of the ones? What about Moody? Who was the man she strangled when she escaped the white house?
He'd rigged the computer he used only for such an occasion to his separate feed of the three visual and one audio eavesdropping devices he planted at the white house. At least three times a day, he did a scan for movement or audio. Thus far, the drives around the house hadn't even been plowed. The only footprints around the place were from the dogs.
He worked on preliminary prints for a painted rendering of a movie poster starring actress Jessica Lambodos in the forefront and the rest shadowed in the background. It was more abstract than he was used to, but a good diversified challenge for his talents.
It wasn't like him to turn off the sights and sounds around him, but sure enough, there she stood. He hadn't seen or heard her. Her powder blue panties peeked just below the shirt he assumed she plucked from his nightstand. She must not have dreamed through the night, at least not anything harsh enough to make her wake swinging.
She was flushed, her eyes puffy from sleep. He wanted to pull her down in his lap, the painting be damned.
"It's still dark," she yawned.
"It's winter in New York."
"True. I'm going for a swim. Wanna join me?"
"Then we won't get in any swimming."
"True," she repeated and headed for the stairs.
"Nickie."
"Hmm?" She turned and leaned against the doorjamb.
Her eyes seemed to search the floor for an answer. Then, they darted to him as she reached and gripped the sides of his doorway. She hadn't thought of it. What had he done?
* * *
"Savage." Nickie answered her phone as she sat at her desk researching boxing tournaments within an hour radius of Moody's home. The feds said they had a lead around or during the January scheduled fight at Madison Square Garden. She worried they would bring the girls to the site of the match. It's what they most commonly did. But they didn't have bugs at Madison Square Garden or Broadway Boxing. The bugs they had were at the white house.
On the other end of the phone was the mother-in-law of a noncustodial parent who was suspected of taking his son and daughter out of town. The kids had been due back with their mother the night before. The woman thought she knew where the man was hiding. Nickie listened carefully and took notes meticulously, but her mind was clouded.
They'd already issued an Amber Alert, covered all the bases there. "Thank you, ma'am. We'll check this out right away." She even broke her own rule and addressed the woman as, 'ma'am.'
She wasn't sure how she'd spent the last dozen years without ever questioning the logistics of moving foster homes from one state to another. She'd never really taken time to do any kind of search through historical files regarding the time around her disappearance. It was in the past. She didn't want to relive it. It belonged in the past.
Questioning her impossible foster home transfer from one state to another meant she should have suspicions about Gloria. How could she possibly have a single suspicion toward Gloria? It wasn't right. And it was a hunch. It was a hunch to think Gloria had something to hide, and it was a hunch to decide she didn't. That was why she hated hunches. What kind of judge was she about the sincerity of people? She could read perps. She could judge the antics of men and how they ticked. But this? She ran her hands over her face.
Pushing away from her wooden desk, she grabbed her notes and headed for her captain's office. Eddy lifted his gaze to her as she passed. She nodded toward him once in greeting. He looked back down at his desk. Still not talking to her.
She knocked and waited for Dave to acknowledge her.
He turned his eyes to the door and smiled. At least someone was happy to see her. "What can I do for you, Nick? Come in."
"Got a call on a possible whereabouts of the Amber Alert suspect. It's about a thirty-five minute drive. You want me to go myself? I have the time. I can call the town captain and see if they have anyone available."
"Go check it out. Take Lynx."
Oh shit. "Are you sure? Should we leave the station without—?"
"I would say the same thing to him. You know the rules. Domestic disturbance. Two go."
"Yes, sir."
"Don't call me sir." He smiled.
It was hard to be mad at him when he was right.
"Come on, Lynx." She leaned her head in his office. "We have a call. Captain's orders."
"I'm driving." He grabbed his coat and keys without facing her. Men and their need to save face.
She stopped in her office and grabbed her tablet, the pictures of the kids, the dad, and the pic of Zheng she seemed to carry with her everywhere she went. Might as well get something done during their thirty-five minute sure-to-be-silent drive.
She found two boxing matches in the month of January; the one at Madison Square Gardens and one at Broadway Boxing. There were some other amateur matches at Friday Night Fights, but the girls she was searching for only did upper class. Literally.
She explained to Eddy where they were going and why. He still didn't talk. Men could be much worse than women when it came to grudges. And what was he mad about anyway? Because she decided to forgive Duncan? Of course, that was why he was angry.
Her phone buzzed on her hip. Checking the caller ID, she saw it was Gil.
Chapter 21
Her hand didn't seem to want to move as her phone buzzed in her palm. Fear crept beneath her skin. Fear that she didn't have the family she thought she did.
"Nick?" Eddy nudged her.
Her eyes shot to his, then she answered the call. "Savage," she croaked and didn't know how to keep her voice neutral.
"Nickie, it's Gil. Did I catch you at a bad time?"
She looked around, her heart beating like mad. "No. What do you need?" That was too formal.
"The twins are sick. Teresa and I have that gig tonight at The Pub. Can you fill in? Please tell me you can fill in."
Her chest rose and fell. "I..."
"We didn't want to ask you to watch sick babies, but we need you, little sister."
Sister. "Okay." The words stuck in her throat. She cleared it. "Okay," she said louder.
"You are saving my life. And my marriage. Thank you. Be there at eight?"
"Eight," she repeated. "See you." And hung up on him.
"You okay?" Eddy finally spoke. When times were tough, he'd always been there for her. That said something. Pursing her lips together, she tried to grin and nod her head.
Gesturing to the exit, she spoke up. "This is us."
He took the ramp in the direction of a small town about a mile from the highway.
The address was to a trailer in a mobile home park. It didn't seem to be an average mobile home park. Trash was piled in the streets and broken, plastic toys littered nearly every overgrown yard.
"I should've worn my other boots," Eddy said.
He took lead and knocked on the tin door of one of the nicer trailers as she stood back, checking the perimeter. A woman covered in freckles answered with at least four sets of eyes standing behind her.
"Detectives Lynx and Savage, miss. We'd like to have a word with you."
The woman's expression didn't change.
Nickie noticed a man dart from behind one car surrounded by overgrown grasses to another.
"Perp," she said calmly to Eddy as she took off.
Knowing it could be anyone running from the police for any number of reasons, she was regardless itching for a chase. The dude must have heard her boots and took off from behind his rusted cover.
"Freeze! Police! No kids in sight." The last part was for Eddy.
The man was wiry and dirty, but it was their man. And he was quick. Pausing at the edge of the mobile homes, he looked left, then right, and then took off, giving her enough time to take a running dive at him.
The dude couldn't have expected she was going to take air for his sake. She didn't even expect it. Flying through the air, she made it to him. He was small and Hispanic, his black hair curling around his ears like Gil's. She caught him by his coat, grabbing handfuls of it and letting the rest of her body fall as it may.
They went down like rhinos, sudden and hard. Wrenching his arms behind his back, she dug her knee in his spine and cuffed him. His children weren't foster kids and they weren't from another state, but her adrenaline was racing so hard she could scarcely tell the difference.
"Where are they?" she yelled as she flipped him on his back, taking his gun with her as he went. She stuffed the gun in the back of her belt and dipped close to his face. "You can answer with a jaw intact, mother fucker, or answer me through a broken one."
He glared at her and spit. She pulled back her fist.
"Whoa there, Detective. Let me help you with that." Eddy referred to the man as a that, and lifted her to her feet.
"You hear what she said to me?" the man roared.
"I heard her ask where the kids are."
She let Eddy take over and stomped back to the trailer. The front door was shut, and she pounded on it with the side of her fist. Cries erupted from inside, the cries of little children. Did they belong there?
The freckled woman's blank expression hadn't changed when she cracked the door.
"You wanna keep your kids? Aiding and abettin
g an abduction is not going to do that for you. I suggest you tell me where I can find his." Nickie thumbed a finger over her shoulder to Eddy as he dragged the man toward his unmarked.
The woman opened the door and stepped aside. The little girl and boy from the photos ran to her, each grabbing one of her legs. They trusted the woman with the badge. Who had Nickie trusted to take her across two state lines and into Gloria's home?
* * *
Nickie sat on the small triangle of a stage in the corner of The Pub. Her acoustic sat comfortably on her thigh, the microphone like a finger pointing, directing all eyes to her. The music would tune them out. It was the one thing, the only thing, she appreciated from her parents. They started her onto string instruments at a young age. She gravitated toward the cello. They didn't argue. The cello was deep, tall, possessive. It didn't need to be the center of attention and instead served as backup to the little guy.
All one, big pile of symbols.
Her traverse to the acoustic guitar was one of the dozens of avenues she used as release. It was probably more of a rebellion against her parents' expectations. But it wasn't rebellion she was feeling this night. It was mass confusion.
The bar was the same, comfortable. The crowd was large since it was a Friday night, filled from wall to wall with mostly twenty-five to thirty-somethings. People younger and older dotted tables along the sides. The cool breeze that blew each time the door opened was a relief even with the smell of tobacco that followed.
It was the people she was with who confused her. Gil sat behind her, thrumming his brushes on his cymbals as she strummed her guitar and sang about better days. It wasn't her first time filling in for Gil's wife. She'd filled in for weeks at the end of both of her pregnancies. Tonight shouldn't be a thing, but it was.
Duncan had arrived. His eyes told her what she must look like. He was worried. Her family... Gloria's family didn't often come if Teresa wasn't singing. She never thought anything of it before. Now, she wondered if she should.
She felt like a caged animal, disoriented and trapped. She wanted to run out the door. Gil laid a hand on her shoulder between songs, something he always did. Except this time, it made her stiffen.