Strong, Sleek and Sinful fscs-1

by Lorie O

  “If you came over because you think I complained about us not working together, I didn’t do that.” Carl looked at Perry, searching his face as if needing to see his reaction to his comment.

  “Actually, that never entered my mind,” Perry told him honestly. “You’re the best partner I could ask for,” he added, guessing Carl needed reassurance and not minding giving it to him. Carl was a good cop, quite a bit younger than Perry but molding well and learning the ropes quickly. “You’ve never bitched that I head out on my own, and are always there when I’ve asked you to run with me.”

  “Hey, whatever works, man,” Carl offered, shrugging and returning his attention to his beer. “Maybe his ass is on the line for something. It might not even be us. Could be that he got his butt chewed and wants us all prim and proper to save his own hide.”

  “Could be,” Perry said, leaning forward and watching his beer can perspire. “What else he tell you?”

  “Not a lot. He came over unexpected-scared the crap out of me. It was late last night and I was about to crash. To tell you the truth, it wasn’t so much what he said but how he acted.”

  “Like he was checking your place out?”

  Carl looked at Perry, his black eyes not blinking as he stared at him for a long moment. “Yup. Exactly what he was doing. He was checking the place out, searching for something. Flynn, you think we’re under investigation for some bogus charge?”

  Rad didn’t chase ghosts. Perry had worked with the Chief long enough to respect the man. Something was going on. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t figure it out sitting here bullshitting and speculating with Ramos.

  “I honestly have no idea what the Chief is up to.”

  After leaving his partner’s house, Perry did a drive-by past Kylie’s house, not surprised but feeling a bit frustrated when she wasn’t home. He hit the mall, bowling alley, and library and didn’t find her car at any of those locations. Then heading over to the station, he decided to see if Rad was pulling some overtime. Perry was on edge, needed to burn off some steam, and returning home wouldn’t help him find answers.

  As he entered the station and then walked down the hall toward the “pit,” the large room where all their desks were lined in rows, paired off and facing each other, the smell of coffee hit him, which didn’t alert him as much as the whistling. The “pit” held onto way too many smells from years of exhausted cops working overtime. He paused, though, listening as someone tried carrying a tune.

  Goddard stopped in his tracks, quickly raising his cup and holding it away from himself so the steaming brew wouldn’t spill. “You scared the crap out of me,” Goddard said, and then blew on his coffee.

  “Anybody here?” Perry asked, heading toward his desk and passing by Goddard’s. His computer was booted up, but he’d been away from it long enough that the screen saver had kicked in.

  “What? I don’t count?”

  “It depends on what you’re doing.”

  “Looking for pussy on the Internet.”

  Perry stared at Goddard, who returned the serious look for a moment before laughing easily. “Goddamn, Flynn. Look at me like I’m serious. Shit.” He rolled his eyes and then slumped into his chair, moving his mouse and then focusing on his screen. “What brings you down here, anyway?”

  “Have you heard anything new on the Olivia Brown case?”

  “You get assigned to the online predator case?” Goddard clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back, studying Perry. “And no. I don’t know a thing.”

  “Nope. Not assigned to anything. I tried to get Rad to let me head it up, but no dice.” He’d get the Chief to agree to him having the case, though. No one else would take it. His nieces’ lives were at stake with the bastard hunting girls in Mission Hills. That didn’t sit well with Perry. But even more so, he wouldn’t stand for the Chief giving the case to one of several cops on the force who would love to have it just for the publicity. The case wasn’t about publicity. It was about putting one of the lowest forms of life behind bars, or killing him. Perry would love to be the one to pull the trigger.

  “No one is assigned to those cases. And you would think someone should be, yes?” Goddard didn’t wait for Perry’s response but leaned forward, playing with his mouse again and then typing. “Seems to me if someone was assigned to play around online a bit, they could find the guy.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Perry booted his computer up and waited for the icons to appear on his desktop. He wanted to read over the reports of all the cases they had on file so far. And to hell with anyone if they questioned him researching a case not assigned to him. Data needed to be gathered. The sooner he learned as much as there was to know about each teenage girl, the faster he could create an MO on the perp who was stalking them. If he was going to be written up for doing that, then someone had too much damn time on their hands.

  Olivia Brown had disappeared the other day, not showing up at her car at the mall and leaving her friends stranded and in need of rides home. The police report didn’t offer anything he didn’t already know. Olivia’s parents were panicking, calling the police department hourly. The notes after the report stated that the parents had hired a private investigator. All of Olivia’s friends were interviewed. Two of her friends knew she had been chatting online with a guy she had the hots for. Neither interview offered anything conclusive that could be followed up on.

  Perry pulled up Maura Reynolds’ file next. She had disappeared over three months ago and there were no new leads. Interviews conducted right after she disappeared confirmed she had talked with her friends about meeting a boy who went to school in Independence, a town over thirty minutes away and across the state line into Missouri. The police had her hard drive from her computer as evidence, and chats were documented showing she’d arranged to meet a boy named Peter. They were going to see a movie together. Maura never came home, and interviews with theater employees that night stated that no one remembered seeing her pay for a movie. A current picture was shown to all theater employees. No one recognized her.

  Then there was Sally Wright, whose dad had saved her life. Perry reread the interview that he’d gone over several times already, along with the other files he’d just browsed through. Sally confirmed the boy she was supposed to meet was Peter. He was a junior attending a high school in Overland Park, a town ten minutes away from Mission Hills. Although there were three Peters living in Overland Park who were juniors, the officer who’d interviewed each boy stated in the report that none of the boys knew Sally and they hadn’t been chatting online with any girl who lived in Mission Hills.

  Perry scrubbed his head with his fingers, reading the interviews with the Peters in Overland Park again. One of them was one hell of a good liar. Either that or whoever Peter was, he wasn’t a junior in Overland Park.

  The doors outside the “pit” opened and loud voices echoed off the walls. Barker and her partner, Richey, headed down the hallway toward the holding stall with several unique-looking characters, probably prostitutes, judging by the skimpy clothing on the two teenage girls who teetered on their incredibly high heels. The boy with them ranted the usual mantra about how they had picked him up by mistake.

  Barker glanced his way and winked, holding the arm of one of the teenage girls, who also looked his way.

  “Why couldn’t we get picked up by a cop who looks like him?” the teenager asked Barker.

  Lt. Ann Richey brought up the rear, rolling her eyes at him and grinning. He didn’t return the smile. Instead he turned his attention to the screen. There were people in the world who lived with others continually dropping comments, either crude or meant as sincere praise, that let that person know they were sexually appealing, good-looking, eye candy. Perry had lived with comments like that most of his life, and as he sat there thinking about it, he realized he didn’t usually bat an eye.

  Nor did he give much thought to getting a date-if he wanted one. Maybe he did in his earlier days. Today dating didn’t enter his mind, whet
her it was because most women seemed to be the same no matter how they looked or it had become more work than it was worth to cut through the red tape for a piece of ass, he wasn’t sure. If there was quality in a lady, to get her to believe he was more than a piece of ass was too much work. The whole single, dating, “he’s one hot piece of eye candy” thing got old ages ago.

  But what if a person never lived life like that? Maybe they married young and never played the field. Or possibly they weren’t physically appealing and so were never pursued. Their desire for that pursuit or for companionship wouldn’t be any less.

  Stretching his legs under his desk, he stared at the files, imagining an individual who craved attention, ached to be noticed, flirted with, and desired. The Internet would offer that means for satisfaction.

  And if that wasn’t enough?

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Ann said, and moved behind his chair.

  Perry wasn’t sure when she reached his desk. When she started massaging his shoulders he didn’t flinch but moved to close the file he’d been reading.

  “Trying to piece together the puzzle on those teenage disappearances.” Ann didn’t make it a question.

  She was one of those ladies who weren’t attractive but didn’t realize it. She flirted easily and was outgoing, sometimes even friendly. Like most on the force, though, she was out for herself, although he hadn’t known her to step on too many toes in the few years he’d worked with her.

  “Yeah, I guess.” Perry closed out the program on his computer, leaning forward and away from her touch.

  Ann took her hands off him and moved to sit on the edge of his desk. Her dark hair held on to a few red highlights and he guessed that when she was younger it was a lot redder. The way it curled, she was probably accused more than once of being Little Orphan Annie. She crossed her muscular arms over her chest, causing what breasts she had to press against her uniform.

  “I think we’re dealing with the same perp on each of those cases, if you ask me.” She chewed her lower lip and her gaze shifted over his face, making it look as though she sought his approval of her statement. “I mean, don’t you think? All of them got out of the house and went to meet some guy who was talking to them on the computer.”

  “Not Olivia Brown,” Perry pointed out. “She was out shopping with friends.”

  “The archives on her computer were loaded with chats she’d been having with a boy named Pete.”

  “That’s not in the report.” Perry leaned forward, reaching for his mouse. “Who told you that?”

  “Stan went over to the Browns’, right?” Goddard asked.

  Ann turned around to acknowledge Goddard when Jane walked in. “That little fucking brat has an attorney already posting bail for him,” she said, scowling as she joined Ann.

  “Where the hell did he get money for a lawyer?” Ann asked, then turned to Perry. “And yeah. Stan told me about her archives. It’s the same song and dance as the other girls.”

  “Apparently he’s got a rich daddy.” Jane stood next to Ann, facing Perry, and crossed her arms, matching Ann’s pose. “We brainstorming on the missing girls?” she asked.

  “Just comparing notes,” Perry offered. “Anything else not on file going on with these cases?”

  “It’s not your case,” Goddard reminded him.

  “It’s no one’s case,” Perry pointed out, keeping it cool. If there was more info running around, he wanted to hear it. “But we’ve got a serious situation going on here. If there are any other similarities, we all need to know about them and keep our eyes open.”

  “Since we’re doing the open communication thing here,” Jane said. “Did Rad stop by anyone else’s house this weekend?”

  “He went by your house, too?” Goddard asked, lowering his voice.

  “He pay you a visit, Perry?” Ann asked.

  “Yup. Sure did.” Perry scrubbed his hair with his hand and stared at his computer screen. “I’m sure we’ll find out why,” he added, and although he was as curious as the rest of them as to why the Chief had paid each of them house calls, he wanted to keep the conversation on the teenage girls.

  “It was weird,” Ann mused before he could pick their brains further on the girls. “He was way too obvious about wanting to see what I was doing on my computer. I teased him about getting rusty with his detective skills and he got all bent out of shape.”

  Perry stared at her, focusing on one dark curl that twisted down the middle of her forehead. Rad was at his computer, too, when he returned to his den after getting a beer. Turning his attention to his monitor, he remembered the Chief asking him about who he was chatting with.

  “Maybe he was just trying to find out who knew how to chat online.” Goddard laughed.

  Perry looked at Goddard, musing over the possibility. Rad wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about chatting online. But it was a very big issue with this case. What if Rad was taking on this case himself?

  Perry scowled, staring across the room but not focusing on anything while he pondered the possibility. It pissed him off. This was a big case, high profile. That wasn’t why he had asked for it. Perry had seen the pattern and wanted the creep off the streets. Every day he was allowed to chat with girls online was one more day that a teenager might lose her life. Rad didn’t strike Perry as a media chaser. He wasn’t out to earn brownie points. But if he took this case himself, that meant he didn’t feel anyone in his department was competent enough to handle it.

  That possibility irritated Perry even more. Everyone chatted around him, allowing the conversation to jump from topic to topic. Perry didn’t pay any attention to any of them and it didn’t appear to bother them that he ignored their bantering and jokes. He wanted to know why Rad had taken the case, and he wanted to know why the Chief felt no one else could handle it. Perry wasn’t a conceited man, but damn it to hell. He could find the perp faster than Rad could. And maybe it was time to prove that he could, in spite of not being specifically assigned the case.

  If anyone said good-bye when he stood and left the “pit,” he didn’t notice. Heading out to the copy room, Perry used the computer in there to pull up the files on Brown, Wright, and even Maura Reynolds, who had disappeared three months before. Her case matched the profile of the other two. He copied their files and then headed home. It was time to do some snooping online, and for that he’d use his own computer. The only way to catch this guy was to play in the perp’s territory.

  While at it, he would figure out what Rad was all about. But the more he pondered that matter, the more determined he got to dig deep into this case and show the Chief he was the man for the job.

  Chapter 8

  Kylie entered the FBI field office in Kansas City Monday morning. She wore comfortable jeans and a sleeveless blouse, and although they were not an extreme variation from the wardrobe she’d donned over the past few days and made a habit of wearing every time she worked an online predator case, it had felt good to wear her everyday clothes over the weekend.

  After spending time in Dallas at her apartment, clearing her head of the case for a day or so while taking care of matters at home, she hurried into the field office, grabbing coffee and listening while a couple secretaries complained about Monday mornings sucking.

  It had been good having lunch with her mother, chatting about things that were important to her. Deirdre Donovan, who went by “Dee,” was aging before Kylie’s eyes. Suddenly it seemed more important than it had in years past to give her mother more attention, to consent to conversations about Kylie’s sister, and maybe to consider there was still mending to do. Kylie was more than willing to accept that her relationship with her parents was strained, but accepting that her relationship with her dead sister needed to be repaired, as her mother put it, was something Kylie hadn’t considered.

  She sure never thought she blamed her sister for dying. But when her mother accused Kylie of chasing after all of these online predators because she wanted to punish a man who’d never been cau
ght, or possibly because deep inside Kylie believed the man who had killed Karen might be one of the men she arrested, that brought her pause. She didn’t like hearing that she was chasing ghosts and that nothing she did would ever bring Karen back. And it bugged the crap out of Kylie that she couldn’t get it out of her head when her mother told her to let Karen go and to start living with the living and not with the dead.

  No matter what her mother said, Kylie didn’t believe she was living on autopilot, simply rehashing the same crime in her mind over and over again, determined to replay it until finally she saved every teenage girl out there. Kylie knew she wasn’t Superwoman. She knew girls would be sexually molested, tortured, and killed no matter how hard she worked. But she was good at what she did, very good. If she wasn’t, the Bureau wouldn’t continually assign her to every sexual predator case when local authorities contacted the FBI for help, or when the agency determined a case merited their intervention.

  For a moment she felt her mother’s arms around her, hugging her good-bye before she’d headed back up here from Dallas. Her mother was so much smaller, almost frail. Kylie had held her for several minutes, feeling the warmth and the love. And in spite of not agreeing with everything she said, Kylie had promised to visit again as soon as possible. She meant it, too. This weekend had reminded her that her family wouldn’t be around forever. Someday she would have to cope with losing more family members, and she wanted to spend every minute she could spare enjoying time with both of her parents before that day happened.

  “Kylie, good, you’re here.” John Athey ran his fingers down his tie as he stood, walking around the table and extending his hand to Kylie when she paused in the doorway to the briefing room. He patted her arm, a fatherly gesture, instead of shaking her hand.

  “I hope I’m not late.” She knew she wasn’t although there were already several men sitting around the rectangular table in the meeting room. “There was construction all along the highway this morning.”