A few raindrops blew at him from a gust of wind strong enough to make him sway and to push the tall weeds flat to the ground. The guard stepped to the side. “Don’t move,” he repeated louder, to be heard over the howl of the wind.
“I’m from Washington looking for a runaway.”
“Save it.”
Sean’s charm wasn’t winning this old man over. And the fact that he carried a gun—illegal in New York City—was going to get him into trouble. He had two options when the cops arrived: tell them about the weapon, or risk being searched and having them find it. Duke always told him to be straightforward and honest when dealing with law enforcement, but in Sean’s experience that didn’t always turn out so well.
A white sedan turned off the road and came toward them. It was obviously law enforcement, lights in the grille, a tall antenna attached to the trunk. Federal? This just got better and better.
A tall blonde got out of the car, her hair a mess from the weather even though she had it pulled back. Her eyes were on Sean, but she approached the security guard. “Panetta said you were just watching.”
“The detective told me not to let him leave.”
“Okay, thanks. Why don’t you put the gun down?” She had her eyes on the gun, but Sean knew if he made any sudden moves, she’d draw on him. She had that look about her, as if she could see ten things at once and react to a single threat accurately and without hesitation.
The guard still frowned and lowered his weapon, though he still had it in hand.
The cop said, “I’m FBI Special Agent Suzanne Madeaux. And you are?”
“Sean Rogan, private investigator.”
“Rogan?”
“Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid. Heard of us?”
“No. Do you have identification?”
“Yes. May I put my hands down?” He gestured to his front pocket.
She nodded. “Slowly.”
He complied, and held out his wallet.
Suzanne approached and took it, but stepped out of reach while she looked through it. She glanced at the back of his GT. “California plates?”
“I opened an office in D.C. in December. Haven’t gotten my new plates yet.”
“What are you doing out here this afternoon, Mr. Rogan?”
“I was hired to find a runaway. In the course of my investigation I traced her here, and connected her with one of your Cinderella Strangler victims.”
Suzanne frowned. “She’s one of the victims? I’ve talked to all the families.”
“She was friends with Jessica Bell, the fourth victim. In fact, my partner and I found some evidence that may help in your investigation.”
“Where’s your partner now?” Suzanne glanced around quickly but methodically, her posture alert.
Sean wasn’t going to tell the Fed that Lucy was talking to Jessica’s friends. “Trying to trace her location.” Close enough, not exactly a lie.
“Why are you here?”
“Kirsten Benton is a seventeen-year-old habitual runaway who always came home after a couple of days, until now. I started working the case on Wednesday.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” the fed said. “Why are you at the crime scene?”
“Kirsten called the Clover Motel on Friday night, paid cash for two nights, but she left without her suitcase or return train ticket. My partner learned that Kirsten’s friend Jessica was murdered last Saturday, and I came out here to get a sense of Kirsten’s mindset. I think she was here the night Jessica was killed. And, I think she saw something.” The rain came down harder and Sean was practically shouting over the wind. “I have a lot more, and I’d be happy to tell you everything while we stand here and get wet, but maybe we can get coffee or something?”
“How about this? You follow me to FBI headquarters. If everything checks out, you’re free to go.” She pocketed Sean’s ID. “I’ll keep this as collateral.” She looked pointedly at Sean. “Do you have a weapon on your person?”
“Holstered, on my belt.”
Suzanne’s glare narrowed and darkened. She disarmed him and said, “You should have informed me immediately. Strike one, Mr. Rogan.” She walked toward her car. “Call your partner and have her meet us.”
FIFTEEN
Kirsten woke up to two men arguing.
She opened her eyes, but her vision was blurry. The harder she focused on seeing, the more her head hurt.
Hiding from Jessie’s killer didn’t seem so important anymore. She was still terrified that even if she went home she wouldn’t be safe, but she wanted to go home. She was so lonely, so scared. She wished she could remember what she’d heard and saw when she’d found Jessie, but it was all a blur. Every time she tried to think back to that night, her heart raced and she began to panic once again.
Dennis had been so sweet to her, so kind and gentle. He’d found her on the floor of the den after she emailed Trey and carried her to the bedroom. He fed her soup and made sure she drank juice. But she wasn’t feeling any better. In fact, she felt worse.
She was dying.
“Don’t yell at me!” she heard Dennis say.
The bedroom door was open only a crack.
“Dammit, Dennis, this is my life we’re talking about! If I want to yell, I’m going to yell! I’ve been looking all over for you since yesterday. You haven’t answered your phone, and then I find out you’re staying here?”
“Charlie says I can stay here whenever I want.”
“Well goody-goody, my life is fucked and you’re staying in Charlie’s penthouse while he’s screwing women all over Europe.”
“Charlie isn’t like that.”
The visitor barked out a laugh. “He has everyone fooled, but he’s a red-blooded American just like everyone else.”
“Why have you been looking for me?” Dennis said. “I thought you were still mad at me for leaving Saturday.”
“I am, but we have more important things to deal with right now.”
While Kirsten recognized the voice, she didn’t know from where. She tried to sit up but couldn’t. She lay back and closed her eyes, focusing on listening, though now the words were coming from even farther away. Like a tunnel. She needed to sleep. But all she’d done was sleep.
Dennis said something she couldn’t quite make out, then his brother said, “It’s complicated. I think I have it under control, but I could have used your help. Okay, listen to me. This is important, Dennis.”
“I’m listening! I’m slow, not stupid.”
“Dennis, I know you’re not stupid. Just please pay attention; this is important.”
“Okay.” Dennis sounded like he was sulking.
“If the police come by and ask you any questions about me—anything, no matter what—play dumb. You don’t know anything about my social life and nothing about my girlfriends.”
Kirsten whimpered. She knew who Dennis’s brother was.
Wade.
She’d had cybersex with him, then met him in person at a New Year’s Eve party. Kirsten had walked in on him and Jessie having sex. Jessie had really liked him.
Oh, God, had Wade killed Jessica? Had it been his whispered voice she’d heard?
“But why?” Dennis said.
“Trust me on this, okay, Dennis? I’ve always looked out for you; this is your opportunity to look out for me. Okay?”
“But I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. All you need to know is nothing. If Charlie finds out about this, he’s going to cut me off. I’ll just have the pathetic settlement money. Dammit, this is so fucked!”
Dennis said slowly, “This has something to do with that girl who got killed at the party.”
Kirsten bit her lip to keep from crying out, and tried to swallow a cough. It came out weakly.
Please, don’t let him hear me.
“Don’t be such a dumb shit, of course it does!”
“Don’t call me names. I don’t like it when you say I’m stupid.”
“I didn’t!
Geez, Dennis, I’m coming to you for help. I never said you were stupid. You’re my little brother, right?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s going to be okay. Really. It doesn’t mean anything. So what if I knew the victims? I know a lot of people. It’s just a coincidence. But you know how the police are. They’d love to take down a Barnett.”
“You didn’t hurt anyone?”
“No!”
“But you were there. You made me sit in the car for hours.”
“And you left me! The cab was taking fucking forever so I got a ride home from some skank. I was lucky she didn’t get us killed. That’s why I have you come along, to be my driver. But I wasn’t there, right?”
“Of course you were. I took you.”
“No! You didn’t. You didn’t take me to that party. Okay? Got that? I don’t know what’s going on, but someone has it in for me. It’s going to be fine, it is, as long as you don’t know anything.”
“You want me to lie?”
“I want you to act stupid. Just act more retarded or something.”
Kirsten wanted to run away, but she couldn’t run or walk or even stand. What was Dennis going to do? Lie for his brother? Her head spun, even though she was lying down.
Wade said, “Denny, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it like that.” His voice was soft and sounded sincere. But he wanted Dennis to lie.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’m just under a lot of stress right now.”
Dennis said, “I don’t like any of this.”
“I didn’t hurt anyone. I swear to you, I didn’t.”
Kirsten didn’t believe Wade. He’d been at the party! Was it his voice she’d heard? It had been so far away, she didn’t know or couldn’t remember. As far away as the voices sounded now. Down a long, dark tunnel.
Dennis said, “I believe you.”
No, Dennis! Kirsten wanted to scream.
But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She was spiraling down, into blackness.
Her chest ached. Was she coughing?
“Oh, my God, Dennis, what have you done?”
The voice was so far away.
“Kirsten? What’s wrong?”
Someone touched her head. She couldn’t talk.
“What happened?” Wade demanded. “What did you do to her?”
He saved my life!
“I found her,” Dennis said.
“Oh no. No. I know her. We have to get her out of here! Damn, she’s blazing hot.”
If Kristen had the energy, she’d laugh. She was anything but hot. Her body was icy cold. So cold.
“She’s sick. I’m taking care of her.”
“Sick? She’s more than sick, Dennis. We have to get her to the hospital. Call 911—no. No. I can’t. You can’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you see? They’ll take our names. If they know about my website, they might know about her. I can’t risk that.”
“We can’t just leave her somewhere.”
“We have to. What if she brings the police here?”
“No!”
“Shit. Okay, I have an idea. Get her stuff. Everything. Now.”
Kirsten faded away. She didn’t hear what Wade’s plan was. For all she knew, he was going to kill her.
Somehow, dying didn’t scare her as much as she had thought it would.
SIXTEEN
Watching Sean pace the FBI interview room was exhausting. “If that woman doesn’t come back in five minutes,” he said, “I’m leaving. We’ve been in here for over an hour.” He looked at his watch and frowned. “One hour and twenty minutes.”
“You don’t like waiting much, do you?” Lucy asked.
“Without my phone, without my laptop, without even a piece of paper?”
She put her hand on her chest in mock insult. “What about me? I’m here.”
He stopped walking and sat across from her. He held her hands and kissed them both. “And you are amazing. You totally blew Agent Madeaux away with your time line.”
“So you’ve told me. Twice.” But Lucy was very pleased that she’d found something valuable to the Cinderella Strangler investigation. She only hoped it led them to Kirsten. “I hope it helps.”
“They hadn’t made the Party Girl connection, and didn’t know that Barnett knew the first victim.”
“I suspect Wade Barnett knew all of the victims before he killed them.”
“And you’re concluding all of this because he dated the first victim?”
“It’s logical. And suffocation is intimate. He’d have to hold his victims close, restrain them in some way. I wish I could see the crime scene reports. The information in the newspaper was vague.”
Lucy backtracked a bit. “I should say that Barnett’s the most likely to have killed these women. We know he knew the first and fourth victim, as well as Kirsten.”
“But your gut tells you he’s guilty.”
“I need to see the evidence. But if I were running this investigation, I would bring him in for some intensive questioning.”
Sean grinned. “I’d like to see you in action.”
Lucy couldn’t hide her smile, though she reddened at his attention. She said, “It’s interesting that they didn’t report that the victims were sexually assaulted.”
The door opened and Suzanne Madeaux said, “We can’t prove sexual assault. The coroner believes that sex was consensual, but the evidence is inconclusive.”
An older cop with Italian features, NYPD badge clipped to his slacks, followed her. “Detective Vic Panetta,” Suzanne said by way of introduction, “Sean Rogan, Lucy Kincaid. Sorry to keep you two waiting. Vic and I are heading the task force on these murders and I needed to call him in and get him up to speed before I could get back here.”
Suzanne sat down with a file folder. Detective Panetta sat across from her and shook both Sean and Lucy’s hands.
“Agent Armstrong vouched for both of you,” Suzanne said. “But we have a problem.” She looked at Lucy. “The Party Girl website doesn’t exist.”
Lucy’s stomach dropped. “It must be down. I have printouts of the profile pages, as well as screen captures.”
“I’ll need to see those, but I’m telling you, the site has vanished. The URL is available for purchase.”
“That’s not possible,” Lucy said. “I was on the site this afternoon.”
Sean said, “It’s a pain in the ass, takes a day or two, but you can surrender your URL.”
Suzanne said, “I need to know everyone you spoke to since you became involved in this case. You must have said or done something that tipped someone off, and they pulled down our only evidence that connects the four victims.”
“Hold it,” Sean said. “You didn’t even know about the Party Girl website. It wasn’t your evidence until we handed it to you on a silver platter.”
“Three victims,” Lucy said. “The first victim wasn’t on the Party Girl site.”
“You may have missed her,” Suzanne said dismissively. “But now we have no way of knowing because the site has disappeared. Look, I’m not here to get into an argument; I need information. I have a killer out there targeting young women, and our only good lead is gone.”
“It’s not gone,” Sean said. “We have the intel you need. And nothing Lucy or I did caused it to disappear. I told you it takes at least twenty-four hours to cancel a URL. Ownership is traceable, but whoever owned Party Girl did it through a blind company. I have my staff in California working on it.”
Suzanne rubbed her eyes. “Mr. Rogan, I’ll have to ask you to refrain from any investigation into that website. It’s now our domain, and I’m sending everything to our cybercrimes lab at Quantico.”
Lucy glanced at Sean. He looked down at the table, biting back a smile. She didn’t think it was important for Suzanne to know—at this point—that Lucy’s sister-in-law Kate Donovan was one of the point people for cybercrime at Quantico.
“Ms. Kinc
aid,” Suzanne continued, “whom did you speak to today?”
“Where is my laptop?” Lucy asked.
“Why?”
“I’ve kept a log of everything I’ve done since Sean brought me in Wednesday morning, including a report of everyone I spoke to, what they said and my impressions. It would be easier to give you a copy than sit here for an hour.”
Suzanne wasn’t expecting that answer. Lucy didn’t take pleasure in her diligence; had she said or done something that had tipped off the killer? Sean would know how a URL could be surrendered, but they’d been working on the case for three days. Maybe it was the fake profile she’d created. Or the email she sent to Kirsten yesterday. What if she’d screwed up the entire investigation? If another young woman died because Lucy had been too bold or asked the wrong question or didn’t see a clue, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.
Suzanne said, “I don’t like bringing civilians into the middle of an ongoing investigation. Normally, I wouldn’t allow you in the conference room except that Agent Armstrong was sure that you could be of help. And you didn’t tell me, Ms. Kincaid, that you’re an applicant for the Bureau.”
Lucy’s face reddened and her stomach churned. She should tell Agent Madeaux that she’d been rejected. It felt deceptive to pretend to be something she wasn’t, and she was no longer an applicant.
Sean spoke before she could. “Lucy aced her written test. Highest in her group. I understand that your case is confidential. My job is to find Kirsten Benton. Yours is to catch a killer. We’ll share everything we have, and I hope you’ll be looking for Kirsten if your investigation takes you down that path.”
“Follow me,” Suzanne said as she stood.
Lucy glanced at Sean and frowned. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, and she looked away. She didn’t like Suzanne thinking she was on her way to the FBI Academy, because when the Fed found out the truth she’d lose all respect for her.
Her apprehension faded when she stepped into the small, windowless conference room that had become the repository of all things related to the Cinderella Strangler investigation.
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