by J. M. LeDuc
“I was in first grade at the time, so she couldn’t just let me go to school cut and bruised. That’s when she started what she called ‘art class.’ ”
“She made the ugly, beautiful,” Sin thought out loud.
All eyes turned to George. He sat in the chair, his legs pulled up, knees to his chest, head slouched forward, and repeated in a barely audible voice, “She made the ugly, beautiful.” He raised his head and stared straight ahead.
Sin stared back at his blank expression. Christ, it looks like he just saw a ghost.
“George, are you okay?” Sin asked. “Would you like a glass of water?”
His eyes fixated on the far wall.
Ashley was out of her chair and leaning down in front of her brother. She combed her fingers through his hair and sent a glare at Sin. “This is what I have been trying to avoid.”
“You and I need to talk,” Sin said. “We can either do that with your brother, or Mr. Freitas can drive George home and you and I can discuss this further all alone. Ball’s in your court, Ashley. You tell me how you want to play this.”
“I don’t want to go home,” George muttered.
“I think it’s best if Anthony takes you home,” Ashley responded.
Her brother shot out of his chair. “You have been telling me what to do since we were kids,” he yelled. “No more. I don’t know what the hell is going on around here, but I have a right to know!”
It’s about time you grew a pair, Sin thought. “How about we order a bite to eat and we can continue this conversation?”
“Fine,” Ashley agreed, looking at her brother. “I’ll agree to anything if it helps get me home quicker.”
CHAPTER 37
Sin and Jack left the Stoklers with their attorney while they waited for Chinese food to be delivered. It gave everyone, especially the over-emotional George, time to decompress. Sin used the time to check her texts and ignore a call from Frank Graham.
Once the food arrived, the five of them sat around the conference table. And as the cartons of cuisine were passed around, Sin opened the discussion.
“Tell me everything. What details do you know about Vincent Ash,” Sin said.
“Let’s eat while it’s hot,” Ashley remarked, lifting a fork to her lips.
“We’ve wasted enough time, don’t you think?” Sin wasn’t going to cut her any slack.
Ashley covered her full mouth with her hand and mumbled, “Is there anything to drink that’s a little stronger than coffee? Maybe a glass of wine?”
“Stop procrastinating.”
Ashley sat back, folded her arms, and crossed her legs. “Fine. You want details. I haven’t got any. I don’t know anything about Vincent Ash, but before you ask, I’ll tell you what it was like growing up with Satan’s spawn. It was pure hell. From the age of six to fifteen, I—we—lived in complete fear.”
“What happened when you were fifteen?” Sin asked.
“The crazy bitch died.”
“What was your mother like before?” McGuire asked. “Before she found you with the news clippings?”
Ashley’s posture relaxed when she thought back to that time. “From what I can remember, she was a typical mother. She was a single mom, so she worked a lot, but she always made time for us.” A wisp of a smile crept onto her face. “She even let me name George when he was born.” She looked over at her brother. “I named him after Curious George.”
“I need to know what you can tell me about your father.”
“Nothing,” Ashley responded quickly. She moved her hand back and forth between George and herself. “I know we have different fathers, neither of which stuck around after dear, old mom got knocked up.”
“So where does your last name fit in?” McGuire asked.
“It was Miranda’s last name,” Ashley said.
“At least that’s what she told us,” George said.
Sin took a sip of her water and put her glass down. “That’s an odd statement. What do you mean by that?”
“It’s just that we learned early on not to question anything she told us, so we don’t really know if it’s the truth.”
Ashley nodded her agreement.
Sin leaned forward, elbows on the table. “We’re sorry for your upbringing and the hell you went through, but we have a bigger problem at the moment. Assuming that neither of you is the killer,” she said facetiously, yet pausing in order to see if any slight change could be seen in the siblings, “there is someone else out there who was probably under Miranda’s influence. Can either of you think of anyone who might fit that description?”
Silence engulfed the table.
“There was an older boy,” Ashley finally said. “He hung around Miranda a lot. He was her assistant.”
“Wow,” George mouthed. “I haven’t thought of Joel in years. I stayed as far away from him as possible.”
Sin’s interest was piqued. “Let’s back up. Who was Joel? What assistance did he give exactly? And why did you avoid him?”
“Joel seemed harmless,” Ashley said. “All of the students at Water’s Edge had to take art lessons, and he just happened to have been Miranda’s special project.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning…his art showed promise so Miranda kept him around.”
“What else can you tell me about him? Where did he live? What was his last name?”
“I never knew his last name,” Ashley answered.
“Me neither,” George said.
“Was he a student at Water’s Edge? Maybe he lived there?” Sin pushed.
Ashley shook her head. “Yes and no. He did live at the school, but he wasn’t a student. Miranda said he was homeless. I remember her mentioning that his parents had died.”
McGuire had been jotting notes down on a pad. He stopped and looked at Ashley. “How did his parents die?”
“I don’t know. Like my brother said, we learned early on not to question Miranda. It only led to another lesson.”
“You said he lived at the school. Where?”
“There was a room attached to the ‘Ghoul School,’ ” George said. “That’s one of the reasons he bothered me. He loved being around all that morbid stuff.”
Sin glanced at McGuire and back at the Stoklers. “You are both giving us pieces of a larger puzzle. I need you to fill in the rest. What the hell is the Ghoul School?”
“One of the buildings on the campus was rented to a school of mortuary science,” Ashley said. “Campus security found Joel sleeping in the back of that building. I don’t know exactly what happened, but the next thing I remember was Miranda telling everyone that the problem was taken care of. After that, he stuck to her like glue.”
“Any idea what happened to him?”
“I have no idea,” Ashley said. “I’m not the high school reunion type of girl.”
George didn’t answer as fast but after glancing toward his sister, he said, “I think I heard he joined the military after Miranda passed.”
“Which branch? Who did you hear that from?”
George looked at Sin. “I don’t know. Just the military. As far as who told me, no one specific. Just a rumor going around campus when no one saw him again after Miranda’s death.”
Sin ate a few bites of food before standing to leave. “After you eat, I need the two of you to sit down with a composite artist. Tell the artist everything you can remember about Joel. No detail is too small.
“As a favor, I am asking you both to stay in town in case we need you.” She looked across the table at Anthony Freitas. “Will that be a problem?”
He shook his head. “No, my clients will be glad to stay in Miami for as long as you need them.”
“Thank you,” Sin replied.
“Wait,” Ashley said, as Sin turned to leave. “You never did say what the connection was between us and Vincent Ash.”
Sin could see dread in both of the Stoklers’ eyes. So much so that she almost didn’t want to tell them. Suck it up, Sinclair.
“Vincent Ash was Joanna Ash’s husband. That was your mother’s married name. She was the one who figured out that he was the Midwest Mauler. She was also the one who killed him. When the case was closed, she disappeared. Seven years later, she resurfaced in Miami using the name Miranda Stokler.”
George turned six shades of crimson before fading to pure white. He stood on wobbly legs, excused himself from the table, and stumbled into the hall in the direction of the bathroom.
Sin could hear the sound of retching from where she stood.
Ashley looking a bit pasty as well, quickly excused herself from the room.
“Counselor,” Sin turned to Freitas, “I am putting them in your hands. Make sure they don’t leave town or do anything stupid.”
He poked around at his plate with chopsticks, and nodded. Putting them down, he wiped his mouth, balled up his napkin, and tossed it on the table. “What you just did, what you just told them and the way you told them, was absolutely uncalled for. My clients have cooperated fully. They didn’t need that extra smack.”
Sin placed her hands on the table and leaned toward the attorney. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind but thought better of it. Standing, she shot a glance at Jack before departing. “Call me when you have those two tucked into bed.”
“Will do,” he said. “Be careful out there.”
“Being careful has gotten us nowhere,” Sin mumbled, walking out of the room.
CHAPTER 38
Sin spent the next few hours on her boat at the computer, hoping to get a trace on Joel. Well, she thought, I’ve put Joel Ash, Joel Stokler, and Joel Vincent in Charlie’s military data bases. Let’s hope I get a bite.
Sitting on the deck of her boat, Sin contemplated her next move. Day turned to night, and she still hadn’t heard from Fletcher or Garcia. She hoped they’d received her message.
Staring at her cell phone, Carmelita’s words rang through her mind.
You are the Pearl Angel of Death. The righter of wrongs.
“She’s right,” Sin said, “and it’s about time I start acting like it.”
Sin grabbed her keys off the deck table, walked across the street to the parking garage of the hotel, and mounted her bike.
Sin pulled out of the garage and tore across the 41st Street Causeway not noticing the white van parked off to the side of the road.
“I wonder where she’s headed,” Ash mumbled.
“Who gives a damn,” she shrieked. “It’s time to set the stage for your greatest display yet.”
Her loud cackle was like an ice pick to his brain. Ash had to squeeze the sides of his head to stop the pulsating headache. But, as always, he knew there was only one way to stop the verbal assault and that was to do as she demanded.
It had been that way his whole life. The only way to stop the pain was following her command to the letter.
When Sin arrived back at HQ, there was a tornado of activity.
“What’s going on?” Sin asked Evelyn.
“A raid in the drug case. The team is reviewing the final plan.”
Sin noticed that Evelyn seemed hesitant in her words and actions. “Okay, but why are you looking at me that way? What else is going on?”
Evelyn moved her eyes toward a chair in the waiting area and then back at Sin. “Detective Anderson from the FDLE has been waiting to see you for over an hour. I told him that I didn’t know when you’d return, but he said he’d wait.”
Sin turned her attention toward the officer and saw a look of desperation on his face. “Detective, how can I help you?”
Anderson stood and shook Sin’s hand. “I was hoping for a few minutes of your time. I think it’s an emergency.”
“You think?”
“If we could talk in private, I’ll explain.”
Sin could hear the sincerity in his voice, so she didn’t push it. “Follow me,” she said with a wave.
They entered the conference room, and Sin asked if he would like a cup of coffee.
“Sure,” Anderson’s voice trailed off. He was about to sit when he walked toward the whiteboard. “What does the Water’s Edge Academy have to do with your case?”
Sin handed him a cup of coffee. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s why I’m here.”
“Come again?”
“Let me start from the beginning.”
“Good idea,” Sin said, pointing to a chair.
They sat at the table, and Sin waited patiently for Detective Anderson to collect his thoughts.
“First, I’d like to apologize for the way Captain Rand and the FDLE treated you. He really is a good man.”
“I appreciate the apology but it’s not necessary. It’s water under the bridge.”
Anderson nodded and looked at the board yet again. “Yesterday morning Sergeant Monroe, the big guy you took down,” he added, with a slight smirk, “came in with some news for the captain’s ears only. But…well, you know how word gets around.”
“Detective, get to the reason you’re here please.”
“Monroe overheard that the FBI had a raid planned for tonight on Water’s Edge Academy. He told the captain, and Rand organized a small raid of his own for last night.”
Sin’s mind was spinning in a thousand different directions. “Hold that thought,” she said picking up the wall phone.
“Evelyn, don’t let the team leave until I have a chance to speak to Duggen.”
Sin hung up before Evelyn could respond.
“The fact that you’re here, Detective, tells me something went very wrong.”
“We haven’t heard from anyone who went. No one is answering their phones, and their families haven’t seen or heard from them.”
“Fuck,” Sin breathed. “Thank you, Detective. Leave your number with Evelyn and I will call you as soon as I know anything.”
“I’d like to be part of whatever you’re planning,” Anderson replied.
Just then, the door opened and a huge man dressed in full SWAT gear filled the space. “We’re about to have our final briefing, O’Malley. What can I do for you?”
“Detective Anderson,” Sin said, “as much as I appreciate you wanting to help, I am not in a position to authorize that.” Her voice mirrored her empathy. “I promise that you will be notified as soon as we know anything.”
Sin and Agent Duggen spoke in private for the next half-hour before Sin joined the taskforce briefing.
“Attention everyone,” Duggen said. “I’m sure you have all seen Agent O’Malley around the office the past few days. We worked together seven years ago, and I’d personally put her up against anyone in this room.”
His introduction quieted the rumblings.
“She has something she needs to say, so listen up.”
Sin stepped in front of the room and eyed the twelve agents, all dressed in full gear. “As you know, I’ve been spearheading the Painted Beauty case. It just came to my attention that our two cases might have some things in common, specifically Water’s Edge Academy.” She referred to the photo of the campus that was displayed on the wall next to her. “I was just informed that one of Captain Rand’s men, Bert Monroe, overheard a conversation about tonight’s mission. He told Rand, and the captain decided to beat the Bureau to the punch.” The rumbling began again—louder this time. “The problem is,” Sin yelled over the noise, “no one has heard from him or his men since they left their precinct last night at eleven-thirty.”
“If he or his men were captured,” Duggen interjected, “our mission may have been compromised, so Agent O’Malley and I have made a few changes to our entry.”
“Before you move in,” Sin said, “a smaller team will go in and make sure an ambush is not waiting for you.”
“How small?” one man yelled.
“Who’s going in?” another said.
About to proceed with her plan, Sin heard a familiar clearing of the throat come from the doorway. She snapped her head around and saw Fletcher and Garcia
standing in the doorway. “It’s about time,” Sin smiled. “What took you so long?”
“Traffic,” Fletcher shrugged.
Agent Duggen stepped forward. “Sin, care to fill me in on who these men are and what they’re doing here?”
“Special Agent Bill Duggen, allow me to introduce you to Agents Jasper Fletcher and Fidel Garcia, who will be joining me in the initial raid. With their involvement, I will only need two of your men to join us instead of the four we discussed.”
Duggen nodded his agreement. “What are your needs?”
“A sniper and someone with ice in his veins would do just fine,” Sin replied.
The big man laughed and slapped Sin on the back. “All my men fit that description.” Eyeing the room, he pointed, “Metcalf and King, you’re to go with Agent O’Malley.”
Duggen introduced himself to Fletcher and Garcia and they did the same in return.
“Fletch will do just fine, Mate,” Fletcher said extending his hand.
“And I prefer Garcia. I don’t know what my parents were smoking when they named me Fidel.”
“Agent Duggen,” Sin said. “If you would apprise your men on the plan we discussed, I’d like a few minutes to catch Fletcher and Garcia up on what’s going on. Then I’ll meet with Metcalf and King. With the new developments,” Sin eyed the men, “I would also like to push the mission back an hour with your permission.”
Duggen agreed. “You have fifteen minutes to bring everyone up to speed, and then my men will join you in the conference room. The rest of us will head south. We’ll be in position waiting for your word. If we don’t hear from you by two hundred thirty hours, we will proceed with the original plan.”
Sin shook Duggen’s hand, thanked the agents in the room, and walked out and down the stairs, followed by Fletcher and Garcia.
“Where the hell are you taking us?” Fletcher asked.
“The rooms are too small for my comfort. Not to mention, the walls are too thin. I’d feel better talking outside,” Sin answered, opening a steel door that led out to a small alleyway.
Lighting a smoke, she looked at both men. Fletcher and Garcia were two of the soldiers she had operated with doing contract work after being released from the FBI. Some would have called them mercenaries; she called them family.