Road Kill; Puppet Master; Cross Wired

by Jan Coffey

  “I don’t want any old hag. No saggy titted—”

  “No. No. No. Of course not. Please, if you’d just wait in here.”

  As the man stepped in, Bonnie closed the door and sent her assistant running.

  The girl’s howling cries had not lessened. Bonnie went in and closed the door behind her. Every light inside the spacious bedroom was lit. The girl was curled up in a ball at the bottom of the bed, sobbing, a sheet pulled up to cover herself.

  “Hey, hey, what’s all this noise??” she scolded in a soft tone, gathering up the client’s clothing off the chair and floor. A used condom had been tossed by the foot of the bed. She opened the door and handed the clothes to the waiting attendant. She closed the door again.

  “First time is the hardest, baby. But it will get better.”

  From experience she knew that soft talk, the promise of a shopping trip, and some babying worked best. These girls either needed a boyfriend that they would work for or they needed someone to mother them. For now, this one needed Bonnie.

  Young girls with baby faces and large firm breasts were hot. This girl—what was her name?—could be back on the job in a couple of hours if Bonnie could work her magic.

  She pulled the sheet off the girl and saw the blood on the mattress. It had already soaked through. “It’s okay, honey. They’re never like him. Just let me take care of you.”

  With her knees drawn up to her chest in defense, the girl refused to look up.

  “Let me see.” Bonnie sat on the edge of the bed and took the girl’s chin and lifted it. Fat fingers had left a large bruise across her mouth. Her lip was bleeding. And there were other marks, too, on her side, her back, her bottom. She would not be working again tonight.

  “Bastard. He beat you, didn’t he?”

  The howling had subsided to soft whimpers and tears leaking from closed eyes.

  “Come on. Come with me. Let’s clean you up.” She took the girl’s hand and physically pulled her off the bed and into the bathroom. Turning on the water in the spacious shower, she ushered her in.

  They had few rules, but they were clear. A client paid more for a first-time girl. But no one marked the merchandise. She sailed into the hall and paged Sergei, one of the male house managers, to come up.

  This type of thing happened more often than they liked. Often enough that protocol had been set on how to deal with it. The same manager wouldn’t approach the client. They wanted the creep to know that everyone in the house knew what he’d done.

  Pacing back and forth in the hall until Sergei came up, Bonnie explained what had happened. He would make sure the guest was charged appropriately for the loss.

  Going back inside the room, she heard the shower still running. Bonnie had been doing this job long enough to recognize the look she’d seen in the girl’s face. It was that wretched I’m going to do something stupid like cut my wrist or overdose on pills look. There was an investment in these girls—bringing them in, conditioning them, feeding, housing, and clothing them. Each girl had to produce a return on that investment or it came out of Bonnie’s percentage. This girl would not be allowed to hurt or snuff herself. That definitely wasn’t going to happen. Corpses made Bonnie’s job very difficult…because corpses didn’t earn.

  Walking around the bed, she started pulling off the bedding. The mattress was stained with blood, too. She’d have to get one of the boys to flip it.

  Bonnie was about to go into the bathroom and check on the girl when her walkie-talkie crackled again.

  “We got uniforms at the gate.”

  “What do they want?” Bonnie went to the window and peered out. She couldn’t see anything from here.

  “They say they got a 911 call from the house.”

  Bonnie looked sharply at the open bathroom door. The shower was still running. Right from where she was standing, she could see a wall phone next to the mirror. Under it, there was a puddle of water on the granite floor.

  “Stall them.”

  Bonnie took out her cell phone and dialed the number of her contact in the police department. He answered.

  “Call off your dogs. They’re at the house.”

  “What did you do now? Who the hell called them?”

  “That’s none of your goddamn business,” she responded sharply. “Get them out of our hair.”

  “Hey, don’t forget, I work for Bratva, too. You could show some—”

  “Save it, pig boy. I hear you’re in a shitload of trouble,” Bonnie threatened. “Alisha didn’t have the list on her that she stole. Your job was to get it back.”

  “Look, I’m not the one who fucking lost it.”

  “But you’d better get it back. And soon.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Yeah, do that. But for right now, get that goddamn police car away from this property.”

  CHAPTER 23

  “I bet you never had any idea that I’m the proud owner of three umbrella lighting kits, all different sizes, thanks to Brett Orr,” Lacey said, breaking the silence in the car.

  “That’s true. I’m impressed.”

  All during their dinner, she had been very aware of Gavin. He had constantly watched her through those thick, dark lashes. He was attentive, thoughtful, and making moves on her while being funny. His demeanor didn’t overtly change, even after Brett and his wife had been seated, for all intents and purposes, at their table. The brush of his fingers or the bump of his knee. His hand on her back when they were leaving the restaurant. Later, a whisper in her ear, his lips touching the sensitive skin of her neck as he opened the door of his SUV for her.

  Heat had rushed through her body. And now, this silence that spoke volumes about the current that was running between them. Her fingers were shards of ice, but her face was on fire. And there was the extra thump in her heart every time his dark eyes drifted off the road and glanced in her direction.

  “And there are two more busted umbrellas that he gave me at no charge.”

  “Fascinating,” Gavin replied.

  “Yes, they’re sitting in the basement.”

  “Wow. Actually, it was pretty impressive that he could recite the entire list of equipment he sold you. The burning question is, what will you do with those nine electronic timers?”

  “Only one of them works,” she admitted, more at ease not thinking about what would happen once they got back to her house. Would he expect her to invite him in? Could she resist his pull or the reaction of her own body? “I didn’t want to ruin Brett’s night by saying so.”

  “Actually, I’m most impressed with what I learned about backlit portraits,” he added. “I’d say, after that dinner, I’m now qualified to start my own photography business.”

  “I’ll sell you mine.” She couldn’t let this go in the direction she knew they were going; she couldn’t afford to let things go too far. Lacey knew how her mind worked. Before the two of them got anywhere near first base, she’d be planning an escape route aimed at never seeing him again. No, she needed him to do what he was already doing for her because she had no idea what she’d do if it weren’t for his help.

  “Sell me yours? Hell, no. What, can’t handle a little bit of competition? Scared?”

  Less thinking and more talking. She repeated the words in her mind.

  “Yes, I’m scared.”

  The words tumbled out of her mouth as the conversation they were having merged with the high-speed chase going on in her head.

  He was looking at her. His tone had downshifted to a more serious gear when he spoke again. “You shouldn’t be scared. There’s nothing scary about me.”

  “I know. But I like to keep you as a friend. Nothing more.”

  “We can keep it at that.” The dark eyes lingered on her face for an extra beat.

  “Okay. Good.”

  “Could you give me a reason?”

  “Because it’s safer that way. It doesn’t complicate things. That’s all…that’s the most I can handle right now.”
>
  The car passed the road sign for Westbury. They were a couple of miles away from her house. She stuffed her fingers under her legs, trying to warm them before she’d have to leave the car. A handshake. That was all.

  He didn’t press her or try to change her mind. If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. She should have been relieved. She was relieved. But she was also sad, too. Sad for herself. To live like this left no room for daydreaming, no chance for romance. She never would allow herself to get close enough to any man to even dream of falling in love. Perhaps, if she were constructed more like her sister, she could find comfort and affection in another woman’s embrace. On the surface that seemed so much less threatening. But even for Terri, there had been no happily ever after. No soul mate. The two of them were screwed up for life because of their childhood.

  Lacey pushed the power button, lowering the window. She hoped the cold autumn air would stop the sudden rush of emotions bringing tears to her eyes. When did she allow herself to get so soft?

  She needed to change the subject. “I was thinking that tomorrow I’d go down to New Haven…to Terri’s apartment. The rent is paid until the end of this month. But I think it’s time to sort through her things and make arrangements.”

  He slowed the car and turned onto her road. “Didn’t you tell me before that you haven’t been back there since the funeral?”

  “That’s right. I spoke to the building manager on the phone after things calmed down. And I filled out the form at the post office, so her mail is being forwarded here. She never had a dog or a cat, not even a goldfish. And when it came to houseplants, she boasted her specialty was killing them, so I didn’t worry about going back.”

  “The first time in there will be the hardest,” he told her as the car crawled slowly into her gravel driveway. “Give me a call in the morning and I’ll meet you there if you like.”

  Lacey could use the help. In some ways Gavin knew Terri better than she did. He’d spent more time with her in recent years. But Lacey was terrified of her own reaction. What would happen if she fell apart?

  “Thank you for the offer,” Lacey said quietly. “I think I’ll be okay. I’ll call you if something comes up.”

  The SUV rolled up next to Lacey’s parked car.

  Before they even stopped, a rank smell wafted in through the open window. It wasn’t a skunk. It was something dead. She glanced toward the front porch. The lights were off.

  “You left those lights on when we went out,” Gavin said, reading her mind.

  She heard the click of the door, double testing the lock. Her window went up from his side panel, and he immediately backed the car up and inched forward, cutting the wheel until the high beam of the headlights shone on the front porch.

  A decomposing animal had clearly been left on her welcome mat, the size of a raccoon or maybe a cat. From this distance, there was no identifying it.

  “You must have had a visitor while we were gone.”

  “This is not the first time. I’ve found two other dead animals before.” Lacey watched him as he pulled a gun out from under his seat and loaded a clip into it. He seemed calm, all concentration as his gaze swept across the house and the woods.

  “On your doorstep?”

  “No, but on the property. One was on the driveway. Another was on the path Amy takes to walk to the house.”

  “Your admirer is getting bold. He even knocked out the lights on the porch.” The dark eyes turned at her direction. “Where’s your phone?”

  She scrambled for her purse and took out the cell phone. “Right here.”

  “Your house key?”

  She reached in again and came out with the keychain. Lacey realized her hand was trembling when she singled out the specific key that opened the front door. She handed it to him. “This one.”

  “Good. Move behind the wheel and lock the door when I get out. You see or hear anything unusual, and you gun the car out of the driveway. Hear me?”

  “Leaving you here?” Lacey looked around them at the dark woods surrounding the house. The light she’d left on inside in her kitchen was still on. “I don’t think you should get out.”

  “Lacey.” His sharp tone snapped her attention to him. “This is what I do. Now do as I told you.”

  Gavin called 911 first and, in a clipped tone, reported the incident. She scrambled over the console and got behind the wheel when he got out. He’d left the car running. He knocked sharply on the window and Lacey locked the door.

  She watched him move across the drive, his flashlight fixed on the carcass on the porch. The temperature in the car must have fallen by a hundred degrees because she could hear her teeth chattering. She felt sick to her stomach. She couldn’t drive away. She wouldn’t. Already, two people were dead because of her.

  Gavin cast a cursory glance at the animal before checking the lights. They stayed out.

  Her phone buzzed and Lacey’s stomach jumped into her throat. She glanced at the display. It was Farah Aziz. She looked up as Gavin left the porch and walked along the front of the house, looking in windows as he went. She decided to answer the phone. Before the attorney could explain the reason for the call, Lacey told her what was going on.

  “Did you call the police?” Farah asked.

  Her voice wouldn’t come out. Lacey realized she couldn’t see Gavin anymore. He was going around to the back. But what would happen if someone was waiting for him there?

  “Talk to me, Lacey!” the attorney demanded.

  “I’m here.”

  “Where is Gavin?” Farah asked.

  She explained.

  “Can you see him?”

  Lacey held her breath for the longest moment. And then let it out with relief when she saw him appear around the other corner of the house. He stepped back to the porch again and opened her front door.

  “He’s back. He just went inside the house.” She turned on the heat to high. “And yes…he called the police before getting out of the car. But there’s still no sign of them.”

  “I’m glad he called. I want one of those Westbury uniforms to log this into their books. Someone is harassing you. Someone wants you to be scared.”

  And they were succeeding. Those words that had started it all wouldn’t leave her mind. Road Kill. From where she was sitting, she could track Gavin’s movement through the house by the lights turning on and off.

  “The reason I called,” the attorney continued. “I reported the photograph of Fay Stone that showed up on your computer. And tonight I’ve already had some back-and-forth conversations with the New Milford PD and the state police.”

  Lacey’s gaze was drawn to the upstairs window when her bedroom light went on. As she saw Gavin’s silhouette pass by, she felt a fleeting moment of embarrassment, recalling this was the view he had when she’d been parading around after her shower last night.

  “…they knew they were walking a slippery slope when they asked for your DNA sample.”

  “DNA?” Lacey asked, her attention returning to the phone. An additional worry pitted in her stomach now.

  “They’re not getting any. Don’t worry.”

  “Am I a suspect in Fay’s murder?”

  “They have no suspect, so as a result, everyone is a suspect,” Farah told her. “The New Milford police want to talk to you, probably just to ask some standard questions such as when you saw the deceased last and that kind of stuff.”

  “I’d prefer that they not come to the house,” Lacey said quietly. “This is my place of business. Even though I’d love to see a police car right this second, I feel like I’ve had my quota of visits from them.”

  “That’s no problem. I’ll call them and say we’ll go to the station. They prefer that, anyway.”

  “We? You’re coming with me?” she said, relieved. Sixteen years ago, Lacey had been dragged from the police station to the state police barracks to court and back to the police station until her initial confusion and terror gave way to bleary-eyed exhaustion.
She never wanted to go back. Ever.

  “It’ll be good to get it out of the way.”

  “Could we do it tomorrow? I know it’s a Saturday, but maybe they could meet with me anyway.” Lacey didn’t want another thing hanging over her head. She had nothing to hide. She’d answer their questions. She would even give them a DNA sample if Farah let her.

  “I’ll try to set up a meeting there in the morning, say, nine o’clock.”

  “Thank you.”

  The attorney continued giving her directions as Lacey watched Gavin open the front door and step over the dead animal and onto the porch.

  No sirens, but the lights of a police car preceded the vehicle as it turned into her driveway.

  “The police are here,” she told Farah.

  “Good. But one last thing,” Farah replied. “A preliminary report from my computer expert says that whoever planted those files on your hard drive didn’t need to be a genius.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The files were transferred through your network. Nothing tricky about it. You had no security, so anyone could have set up shop within the router’s radius, tapped into your system, and dropped the files. She’s checking the IPs to see what she can find out.”

  Gavin was speaking with the two cops who’d just climbed out of the police car. Lacey’s mind raced. Amy’s computer was linked to her network. But there was no way she could have done it. How about Nick? What did she really know about him?

  Damn. It could have been anyone.

  CHAPTER 24

  South Norwalk, Connecticut

  A six-pack of rolls from the young Portuguese woman locking up the bakery, half a pizza from the couple heading back to their car after dinner, a pre-licked lollipop from the little boy walking a dozen steps behind his mother out of the grocery store, and ten dollars and seventeen cents in donations, all in change.

  “Tonight is a good night, Lord. Halleluiah!”

  Holy Joe, as everyone called him downtown, was a part of the old downtown establishment in the revitalized shoreline town. He carried his life’s possessions in a grocery cart that he swapped every now and then when this one got rusty from the bad weather. Missing one eye, Joe had a stump for a left arm. People thought he was a homeless veteran. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t.