37
Castillo spent hours going back and forth working with Dennis and his contact down at the FBI and the Children’s Protective Services. The understaffed departments were working overtime trying to identify and place the children who had been removed from the Lynnwood Club and they weren’t having any success. The children weren’t talking, and neither were any of the defendants from the Lynnwood Club.
Then Castillo got a hit.
“Hot damn.” She punched the air in victory when she got the call.
Holder shared her enthusiasm. “You have no idea how happy this has made them over at the bureau today. This little girl was the only child that they’ve been able to make a positive ID on. It’s like these kids materialized out of nowhere. It’s been real disheartening last couple of weeks. They’ve been ramming their heads into a wall every day.”
“I get it,” Castillo said. “I have a few dents in my head, too, from working these cases. I can’t wait to contact this little girl’s mother. She’s really bad off since she went missing out of her own bedroom.”
“I’ve never met a parent who hasn’t taken losing a child hard,” Holder said. “But thanks for this win today. I’m sending her information up the ladder and over to the DOJ. I know that they’re desperate for some good news, too. Word is that their case is sitting on shifting sand.”
“How in the hell is that shit possible?”
Holder laughed without mirth. “When you’re dealing with people who have more money than the GDP of a small country, there better not be a single i not dotted or t not crossed. These people have the kind of lawyers who graduated at the top of their classes at Purgatory Law. I heard they’re challenging everything including the alleged anonymous phone call. The head douchebag Cargill Parker is laying the groundwork for a political persecution defense.”
“Is that a real defense?”
“For the amount of money he’s paying his lawyers, it will be.”
“And who is supposed to be his political adversary?” The second the question left her mouth, Castillo knew the answer.
“The former president,” Holder confirmed. “Parker is claiming that President Walker targeted him as some sort of payback for his daughter exposing his collusion in killing that congressman. It’s a real-ass soap opera.”
“And how does he explain the children?”
“The government brought them, of course. None of the children are saying anything. And the raid didn’t actually catch anyone in the act.”
“Surely a physical examination—”
“Only one showed any signs of sexual trauma, and that’s your match. My guess is that the other kids were new to the market and our guys got there before an actual crime had been committed.”
“That’s good news on one hand.”
“And pretty shitty on the other. It’s a good chance this little secret club is going to get away with this. And their billions will make sure that none of their members will get so much as a ticket for jaywalking for the rest of their lives.”
Castillo shook her head. “Justice is not blind.”
“Not as long as you got enough gold to put on that scale she’s always lugging around.”
A minute later, Castillo ended the phone call with her victory high diminished to a low-grade buzz. It was the nature of the business. One step forward, twenty steps back. She thought about Cargill Parker and the few times their paths had crossed, and she had no problem believing him guilty of the charges leveled against him. She couldn’t stomach the idea of him possibly getting away with this. She picked up the phone again and called her old friend at the Department of Justice. Leaning back in her office chair, she grabbed a case file of eight-year-old Lovely Belfleur and smiled. “At least you’re going home, sweetheart.”
The line picked up. “Kellerman.”
“Hey, Skipper. Guess who,” she said.
“Gigi! Long time no hear from.”
“It’s a couple of weeks before Christmas, so I figure this call could be your early Christmas gift.”
He laughed. “If you really cared, you would come and see me in person.”
“Ah. No can do. I don’t break up happy homes.”
“Who said anything about being happy?”
“Maybe you should file that under things to talk to your therapist about.”
He chuckled. “I knew that I married the wrong sister.”
“Yeah. Shannon’s first husband said the same thing.” She laughed.
“And the Gigi fan club grows. Are you still pretending not to be in love with that sap Holder?” he inquired.
“None of your fucking business.”
“And we’ve come to the end of the small talk portion of our conversation. What can I do you for, Ms. Castillo?”
“Actually, this is more about what I can do for you.”
“Are we flirting again?”
“No. Who’s working the Cargill Parker case over there?”
“Oh. That’s an all-hands-on-deck case. Why? Whatcha got?”
“It’s not a what, but a who.”
* * *
Laughing, Kadir stepped inside of his apartment and froze.
Abrianna followed and stopped beside him. “Nice place. Did you kill the maid?” She took in the destruction.
“It looks like a tornado touched down in here,” he grumbled.
“Were you robbed?”
Kadir stepped over piles of overturned furniture. He stopped at the coffee table and set it back up on its four legs. “I doubt it. This looks like the feds’ handiwork.”
Abrianna closed the front door. “Damn. I’d hate to see what my old place looks like, then. The landlord is probably still digging bullets out of the walls. I can kiss that deposit goodbye.”
“You haven’t been there?”
“What’s the point?” She glanced around. “Want some help?” she offered.
“Uh . . .” He smiled. “If you don’t mind?”
“Not a problem, but . . . let’s get something on that eye first.” She maneuvered around the mess to make it to into the kitchen. However, the FBI tornado had hit in there as well. Cabinets were wide open, drawers were yanked out, and silverware along with pots and pans were strewn everywhere. “Goddamn.”
“What?” Kadir joined her in the kitchen and sighed.
Abrianna shook her head and opened the refrigerator. “Did they jack your food, too?”
“Uh, no. I’d been meaning to make it to the grocery store before all of this happened.”
Abrianna lifted a dubious brow, but let the explanation slide. In the freezer, she found a package of frozen peas. “This should do.”
“Peas?”
“Yep. C’mon. Let’s get you fixed up.” She crossed back over to him and then led him into the living room. She placed the cushions back onto the sofa and told him to sit down. “Now hold your head back.”
When the frozen peas touched his face, he hissed and flinched.
“Don’t be such a big baby.” She smirked.
“Who are you calling a baby?”
“One guess.”
Kadir forced himself to remain still. “I’m not a baby,” he grumbled jokingly.
Abrianna placed the peas on his face again. “There. See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Nah. I got this.” He smiled, even though his busted lips stung and throbbed.
“Your lips are bleeding,” she observed. “Hold on.” She sprang up and hopscotched over the mess and headed down the hall. “Which door is the bathroom?”
“First door on your right, but I can save you the trouble: I don’t have any Band-Aids.”
“What do you have?” she asked.
He listened to her open and close cabinets while shaking his head. “Not much.” He sighed as the peas numbed his face.
Abrianna returned with a wet-and-dry towel. “Here, let’s wrap those peas up so you don’t get frostbite first.”
Kadir resumed smiling as he watched her clean his lip and dab
petroleum jelly onto it. Kadir enjoyed the pampering, even thought that he could get used to it. “You’d make a good nurse.”
“Ha. Not likely.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a job that requires you to be a people person.” She grinned.
“And that’s not you?”
“Not by a long shot.” She leaned back and admired her work. “There. All done.”
“Yeah?” Kadir removed the thawing peas from his face and went to check in the bathroom mirror. “Holy shit!” He stared horrified at his reflection.
“What is it?”
“I didn’t know that I looked this jacked up.”
“Almost looks like a murder scene, doesn’t it?” she quipped and then added under her breath, “Smells like one, too.”
Kadir jutted his head around the corner. “I heard that.”
She raised a brow, prompting him to sniff under his armpits. “Whoa!” He reeled. “I’m taking a shower.”
“The world thanks you,” She waved the air. “I’ll start picking up in here.”
“Cool.” Kadir returned to the cluttered bathroom, which suffered the least damage because there wasn’t much in it. After turning on the shower to full blast, he stripped down and saw the black-and-purple bruises across his body. Maybe he did look like he should’ve been white-chalked at a crime scene. In the shower, the hot water was paradise, though he had to rush before the water heater clunked out and left him rinsing in subzero-temperature water.
In the living room, Abrianna got to work. After a few minutes of righting furniture and picking up scattered books and paper off the floor, she came across a broken picture frame. The image was hard to see through the shards of glass, so she took her time extracting the picture from the frame. It was a high school prom picture. She identified a smiling Kadir, though he was as thin as a twig and had wavy midnight hair flowing past his shoulders and . . . was he wearing braces?
Abrianna smiled, but then her gaze shifted to the pretty teenage girl holding a side pose. Actually, she was more than pretty. She was downright gorgeous in a gold-and-pearl gown that hugged her burgeoning curves. Her golden hijab drew the eye to focus on her flawless face. She looked like a young Arabian princess and Kadir her handsome Aladdin. She remembered a conversation she and Kadir had had two months ago.
“What was the longest relationship that you’ve ever been in?” Abrianna asked Kadir.
“Fifteen years,” he answered. “I have to say that it was the longest and only real relationship I had.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“No. She was the love of my life,” he said.
Abrianna stared at the young beauty until she heard the shower shut off. She put the picture away, not wanting to be caught with it. The bathroom door opened. Steam billowed before Kadir stepped out with a towel wrapped around his hips. His hair dripped pearl-size drops of water down his back.
Abrianna smiled, liking his tapered hips and ripped abs, but the large ugly bruises splayed across his chest unnerved her. “Are you sure that you won those fights?”
“I won the first one. The other ones with the guards weren’t even close.”
She moved toward him, unable to pull her gaze away. “Maybe you should see a doctor?”
Kadir’s brows shot up as he laughed and toweled dry his hair. “You’re suggesting a doctor? I thought that you didn’t care for doctors?”
“I don’t . . . for me.”
“Ha. Hypocrite.”
“Call it what you want. But you really should get checked out.”
“I’m fine,” he said, winking. “I’m going to get dressed.” He headed to the bedroom.
“Uh, yeah.” She looked around. “Uhm. How about I order us some pizza? This is going to take a while, and I’m starving.”
“Sounds great!”
Hours later, Kadir and Abrianna had made a dent in cleaning up Kadir’s wrecked apartment and stopped to attack that pizza on the living room floor.
“So what’s next?” Kadir asked, going for his third slice. “You’ve basically cleared your name—”
“Not quite,” she corrected. “I haven’t been charged with anything, but there are plenty of lunatics out there who still think I had something to do with it. Tomi thinks I could be dragged into Congress or into a deposition.”
“So there will be a trial?”
“I’m assuming. Everyone is still waiting to see what the vice president is going to do. Pundits have been in a fierce debate on whether she’s going to pardon her former boss. Some said that it would be a nail in her own coffin, especially if she plans to run for the office herself next year. Others say that having a former president convicted for murder would be bad for the country.” She shrugged. “I get the sense that the media would like the spectacle of a trial.”
“Wow. Sounds like you acquired your political training wheels while I was away.”
“I never really appreciated the art of bullshitting before.”
“Well. We are certainly in the right town to learn.” Kadir shook his head. “I need to pay more attention to Ghost’s crazy conspiracy stories.”
“You and me both.” Abrianna folded her pizza slice and took a huge bite.
Kadir chuckled at the spot of tomato sauce at the corner of her mouth.
“What?”
“You got a little tomato sauce on your face,” he said, gesturing toward a corner of her mouth.
“Oh. Where? Here?” She touched the wrong side and left another smudge of sauce.
Kadir’s chuckle deepened.
“No?” she asked, eyes sparkling.
“Here. Let me help you.” He grabbed a napkin and stretched over the pizza box to dab the corners of her mouth. “There you go.” He stopped and met her gaze.
She blushed and asked, “Did you get it all?”
Kadir stole a kiss. “There. Now I’ve got it all.” He pulled back, but she stopped him.
“Hold on. Now you have some on you.” They kissed again, longer this time, deeper.
Breaking away, he said, “Thanks for fighting for me. I was sure they were going to keep me in there for a few decades.”
“I wasn’t going to let them do that,” she said.
“Humph.” He cocked his head. “You’re my ride or die chick now?”
She laughed. “I guess . . . you can say that. Truth is . . . you could’ve kicked me out of your car, left me for dead that first day. You didn’t have to help me kidnap a woman or hack hotel files. I owe you my life.” She leaned in for another kiss, but Kadir pulled back.
“So . . . what? Is this gratitude you feel for me or . . . ?”
“Huh? No,” she said, shaking her head. In truth, she hadn’t processed what any of this meant.
Kadir called her on it. “Are you sure?”
Abrianna closed the pizza box and pushed it aside. “I was attracted to you the first time you slid twenty dollars into my G-string at the Stallion.” She crawled closer. “And then I was really turned on when I gave you that private dance in the VIP room.”
The memory made Kadir smile.
She leaned within an inch of his lips and stalled. “What I feel for you is a lot deeper than gratitude.”
His lips hitched upward while his gaze dragged from her eyes to her lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her breath caressed his cheek.
“Good.” He captured her mouth with a moan. He’d forgotten how intoxicating she was. The world spun as he clutched her closer.
Their clothes came off in a flash before they pressed their naked bodies together. His bruises made it difficult to manage a few positions, but he powered through to enjoy her every curve.
Heaven. Abrianna didn’t know how the man was able to do the things he did, but she loved every minute of it. His name tumbled from her lips when he entered her.
She twisted beneath his caresses and gasped when he drilled deeper. Lost in a wave of passion, Abrianna ceased to think. All that existed was this m
oment. Their breathing came hard and fast as something glorious unfolded within them and then spread like a wildfire.
Kadir held her hips, while his mind teetered precariously over the edge of insanity. It was as if everything was new to him—from the way her body massaged him to his need to possess her—all of her. He loved her groans and flushed face. She was beauty. She was love.
A cry tore from Abrianna’s lips as an internal volcano erupted.
Kadir thwarted the cry by kissing her senseless until the tremors subsided.
It took Abrianna a while to regain control of her breathing and hammering heart, but once she did, she laughed.
Kadir propped himself up onto his side. “What’s so funny?”
“Us,” she said, grinning. “We were like animals.”
“What? I think we did well. I wanted to throw you on this floor since the moment we entered the apartment.”
“Then you should have. Could have saved us a lot of time.”
He smiled and took the top position. “We certainly have plenty of time now.”
38
Office of the Washington Post
Tomi hung up the phone, anxious for Abrianna to call back. Not only did she want to pass Marion’s message along, she also wanted to revisit some information regarding the mysterious Dr. Charles Zacher. She’d read the article that Jayson had given her more than a dozen times and had spent an irresponsible amount of time at work researching all she could about T4S. However, the more she learned, the more questions she had.
There wasn’t a whole lot of information about Dr. Zacher himself. His sanitized profile made it clear that he was a brilliant man with awards out the wazoo. There was nothing on the web that linked him to madman Craig Avery—other than the fact that they were both doctors. That thread was thin as hell. She spent hours delving into Avery’s professional background and, for the first time, went beyond the man’s LinkedIn information. She was stunned to find ancient articles announcing the young Avery as a seven-year-old Mensa member. The accompanying picture of a bright-eyed, tow-headed boy aroused conflicting feelings within her, mainly, because there was no trace of the wild-eyed, stringy-haired madman who had tortured her for ten months. There were a few more articles heralding the young Avery as a genius. He had been his high school’s valedictorian and had graduated at the top of his class at Johns Hopkins, where he received his doctorate in biomedical engineering. When Tomi switched over to research Zacher again, there was nothing other than a thin biography that was listed in the lone article that Jayson had found. But then she came across a Ted Talk on YouTube.
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