Wicked Legacy (Serenity's Plain Secrets Book 10)

by Karen Ann Hopkins

  “That’s odd. Did you figure out the reason for the move?” Bobby asked. “Amish families tend to hold onto to their children as long as they can. Each child is a potential income earner once they’re teenagers. The girls are especially valuable to help with household chores and rearing younger siblings.”

  “Maybe she was rebellious,” I added. “Those same families like to get rid of the difficult ones as soon as possible.”

  “How rebellious can a twelve-year-old girl be?” Bobby asked.

  Toby interjected. “I’m not exactly sure what happened to send her away, but I doubt it was because the girl had a wild streak. From what I observed, Ms. King is the epitome of a hard-working, sensible woman.”

  “Undercover, huh?” I barked out a half laugh, shaking my head. “That must have been a fun assignment.”

  Toby shrugged. “It’s all part of the job. A man has to do what a man has to do, you know.”

  I felt my cheeks warm, and I was about to shoot the perfect comeback at Toby when Bobby spoke up first. “The idea of legal brothels is fascinating. I’m surprised more crime doesn’t stem from those establishments.”

  “Ms. King runs a tight ship. There are twenty-one brothels in Nevada. Some are small, others quite large. They’re all in rural areas, and they’re completely legit. They even pay state licensing fees, although there’s no tax on sex acts.”

  I shushed Toby, looking around for eavesdroppers. “This is a family place.” The thought of women selling their bodies to earn a living made me feel sick. “You said there’s more to this story than just locating an ex-Amish woman?”

  “Let me explain the way a brothel works first, since you both don’t seem too knowledgeable on the subject.” He chuckled and then touched his mustache before continuing. “Workers negotiate their own rates with customers, and they have the power to turn down any customers who they don’t feel comfortable with.”

  “How much do they charge for their services?” Bobby asked.

  If Bobby wasn’t a happily married old man, I’d be worried about the question. But I knew Bobby. His curiosity about everything was insatiable.

  “Sometimes as much as one thousand dollars to have intercourse. Not all interactions are sexually oriented though. Some men just want a date-like experience with a pretty woman. That can cost just as much. There’s a lot of competition between the women, so newer workers often charge less for their services.”

  “How old are these women?” I asked, remembering my recent case that led me to Indianapolis where several youngsters, including a fourteen-year-old Amish girl, had been kidnapped and forced into sex slavery. Just a passing thought about it made my stomach clench. It was the worst case I’d ever worked on, and the main reason that I found it difficult to grasp that some women would willingly choose that line of work.

  “The law says eighteen, but some of the brothels only hire women that are twenty-one or older. Trust me, Serenity. These businesses are entirely different than the illegal prostitution rings you’ve encountered on the beat. The owners know that the fastest way to be shut down is to get caught with minors working. There’s a substantial vetting process for would-be employees,” Toby said.

  I rolled my eyes. Toby couldn’t be that naïve. “If there’s horny men involved, anything is possible. I’m willing to bet a lot more illicit crap goes on in those brothels than you might have noticed during your undercover work.”

  Toby didn’t fall for the jab. He kept his face neutral. “There are problems with drug use and women hustling services outside of business parameters. Occasionally, a client becomes belligerent, but each brothel has security guards on duty for such times.”

  “Is there a therapist on hand for the depression and anxiety those women probably endure?” I snapped. Poor Toby was on the wrong side of this argument with me.

  Bobby spoke up. “I agree with Serenity about that. It cannot be easy to have a career that’s such a taboo. Not to mention all the health issues that can arise in that kind of work.” He raised his brow at me. “But Toby also has a point. It’s a legal industry in Nevada. One would assume that certain safeguards are in place to create as safe an environment as possible.”

  I grunted at Bobby’s remark but didn’t look his way. “If that’s the case then it sounds like Melinda King doesn’t need rescuing.”

  Toby nodded. His broad smile immediately put me on edge. “You’re right about that. Ms. King is right where she wants to be. It’s the other former-Amish girls just embarking on their new career that I’m worried about.”

  It felt like my stomach lurched into my throat. “What other Amish girls?”

  “Most of the women working in brothels keep pretty mum about their pasts. It might be personal, but I get the feeling it’s more of a job requirement by management. I discovered that new recruitment is never ending and intense. There’s a constant turnover of workers. Some don’t last more than a few days, and then there’s also a point when prostitution isn’t very feasible when a woman begins to age.” Toby paused, taking a breath, and glanced between Bobby and me. “That’s where I think the Amish girls fit in. Someone is recruiting them into the legal sex trade.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I spat. “More like they’re being forced.” Leaning over the table, I narrowed my eyes on the marshal. “How many Amish women work at this Wild Colt Ranch?”

  Toby inhaled deeply, looking upwards as his mouth worked at counting for a few seconds before he returned his gaze. “I can’t say for sure, but I’m willing to bet there’s four ex-Amish workers there currently, not including Ms. King.”

  I tilted my head, staring at him. “How did you find out these women used to be Amish?”

  He smirked a little. “One conversation led to another, you know how it goes. When I realized that the Madam was no other than Melinda King, my curiosity became roused. A couple of the younger workers were looser with information. There’s no doubt that a handful of women working at the Ranch used to be Amish. Since Melinda disappeared from Blood Rock, I thought I’d begin my search here.”

  “Search for what?” I straightened up in the booth while thoughts of Amish prostitutes swirled in my head. “As scandalous as it is, why would a U.S. Marshal give a damn about some formerly Amish women joining the oldest profession?”

  When Toby’s lips pursed, I held my breath. I knew that look. It meant the marshal had something juicy to say.

  “I don’t give a flip about the origins of those workers. My official task is to discover why one of the ex-Amish women killed a John, who was on the department’s most wanted list for armed robbery and murder. His accomplice is still on the loose and it’s feasible to believe there might be a connection to be made that will help me bring the other man in.”

  I opened my mouth to belt out questions, but Bobby beat me to the punch.

  “Why not just interview the women. It’s been our experience” —he nodded at me— “that Amish women like to talk.”

  “This woman won’t be talking to anyone. She’s dead. We believe that she was knifed to death by the partner of the fugitive who she shot.”

  After rubbing the side of my forehead, I raised my hand and flicked my fingers for the nearest waitress to come over to our table. “I’m going to need more coffee for the rest of this conversation.”

  2

  I paused the pen over my little notepad. “What’s the murder victim’s name?”

  “You mean the woman?” Toby asked in between bites of Nancy’s fresh baked apple pie. I waved my hand for him to continue. “Her real name was Susanna Miller, but she went by the name Star.”

  “And where did she live before moving to Nevada?” I already had a strong suspicion what his answer would be.

  “Mt. Carmel, Indiana.” Toby’s eyes widened and he smiled in his smooth, yet excited big-kid way.

  “Wow. It can’t just be a coincidence t
hat Melinda King came from that same community.” I looked up from my notes and Toby took another bite of his pie. “Are the other women from Mt. Carmel as well?”

  Toby swallowed and wiped his lips leisurely. “Mmm, I wish Nancy was here so I could tell her in person how amazing her pies are.”

  “Her fifth grandbaby was born this morning. Even Nancy occasionally takes a day off,” Bobby said. I ignored his sharp gaze and the preachy tone.

  Toby took that as his cue to answer my question. “I’ve been able to trace Melinda, Star, and a third women, Lynette King, directly back to Mt. Carmel. Lynette is called Jewel at the Ranch. She’s twenty-two and Star was twenty-six. I can’t find any real paperwork on the other two, but from their looks, accents, and polite behavior, I’ve included them in with the Amish crew.”

  I jotted down the names and leaned back, cocking my head at Bobby. “What do you make of all this?”

  He twirled the end of his mustache the way he always did when he pondered something. “It’s surprising, that’s for sure, but I don’t see how this case has anything to do with us, other than a good mystery to think about.”

  Bobby was right, but still, there seemed to be more to the story than meets the eye. “The fact that an eighteen-year-old woman disappeared from my jurisdiction in 2000, turning up all these years later as the madam at a brothel where another young Amish woman was murdered puts the case on my radar.”

  “That’s what I hoped to hear.” Toby grinned.

  “Serenity, I don’t disagree with you on those counts. It’s whether you have the time for an endeavor that doesn’t really impact our town. Fred Johnson might have an issue with it. You just closed the widow’s murder investigation. Besides, after everything that went down with your former partner, Ryan Donavan, didn’t you tell me recently that you’re turning over a new leaf and prioritizing your private life over the job? You’ve had a rough couple of years here in Blood Rock. Now that Daniel’s building your dream home and you’re planning to grow your family, isn’t it time to slow down a little?”

  My cheeks heated and I avoided Toby’s wide-eyed reaction. Dammit, Bobby. Did you really have to say that last part in front of the marshal? As annoyed as I was, I couldn’t bring myself to be too upset with the town’s coroner. He was absolutely right. I had given a soliloquy just the other day about my intentions to focus on family and the usual pursuits of happiness, like actually taking vacations and spending time with friends. The problem was that a good mystery is what made me happy. Without the constant adrenaline rush of solving crimes and fighting the bad guys, I’d probably be bored stiff. Of course, I couldn’t tell Bobby or even Daniel that. Neither man would understand. Toby would. He had the same addiction I had. The cases are what kept him going. I’d tried to convince myself that I wasn’t the same, but deep down, I knew I was. So did the marshal. That was why he sought me out for this mission. Toby knew I couldn’t refuse.

  “I’ll handle the mayor.” I told Bobby, dismissing everything else he’d said. Then I lifted my gaze to Toby. My mind kept circling back to the fact that Melinda King and Bishop Aaron Esch were related. He hadn’t mentioned that detail when he’d sent Toby out to look for her. It made me think that the holy man knew more about the case than he wanted to say, which wouldn’t be shocking, considering his usual secretive ways when it came to protecting his people from the law. “I can arrange for a talk between you and the bishop if you want, and even set up more interviews in the community if needed. Mt. Carmel is only about a forty-five-minute drive from here. Do you plan to investigate there as well?”

  “Of course. Something doesn’t sit right with this case. Don’t you think it’s awfully strange that there are any sex workers at all being recruited from local communities, let alone five” —he snorted— “that we know of.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I muttered. “We’ll head out to the settlement first thing in the morning. Hopefully, we’ll get some answers.”

  Sure, we’d get answers, but I also anticipated many more questions if this went down the way I guessed it would. I had the blood-surging feeling that the investigation would take me straight to Nevada. If that turned out to be the case, planning with the mayor would be the least of my problems.

  Daniel was not going to like this case one bit.

  3

  “How well did you know Melinda King?” I asked Daniel.

  He leaned back against the headboard. One of his hands rubbed Hope’s furry back and the other clutched a western book that he had been trying to read when I came into the bedroom. “What, no hello, how was your day?”

  I crossed my arms and stared at my husband. He looked so hot in his flannel pajama pants and the white t-shirt that highlighted his bulging biceps. The dark stubble around his jaw told me that he had been too worn out to bother shaving when he’d gotten home. It had been a long work week for both of us. Hope barely raised her head to acknowledge me, and the dog was curled up on my side of the bed. Daniel spoiled her rotten.

  “I thought I’d texted you pleasantries earlier.” I tried not to sound impatient.

  Daniel shook his head. “Ah no. Your text was more like a dissertation of a criminal report.”

  I held in my smile, then went about my nightly routine of removing the uniform. A hot shower would have to wait though. I had too many questions for my husband.

  “You knew her, right? You’re about the same age, from the same community. The two of you must have been acquainted.” I hung up my jacket and unbuckled my gun holster.

  “Sure, but it’s been like sixteen years, and we were never close.” His voice cracked with annoyance.

  I lifted a brow and stared at him.

  Daniel threw his hands up in the air. “Okay, okay!” He inhaled deeply and blew out the breath slowly. “It’s just that you come in here all gung-ho to discuss your newest case, which happens to be another Amish one, and you’ve barely closed the last one. I thought you were going to slow down a little.”

  I made an indulgent sound and sat down on the edge of the bed. Hope finally acknowledged my presence. She crawled over the comforter to get close enough for me to scratch the side of her face. “I can’t control the cases that pop up, Daniel. If it went that way, it would be like Disney World around here.”

  He tossed his book down and leaned back on the pillow. “Melinda King doesn’t even live in Blood Rock anymore.”

  I bent down and began unlacing my boots. “The bishop was intrigued enough about her disappearance back in 2000 that he mentioned her to a U.S. Marshal.”

  “You know how Aaron is. He keeps tabs on everyone. When a person leaves the community and is never heard from again, he becomes intrigued.” He dragged his hand through his thick, wavy hair. “I think some of your detective job has rubbed off on him. He’s not the same man he was a few years ago, before he met you.”

  “A good mystery should interest anyone, especially you. Melinda King used to be a schoolmate of yours, and now she’s a madam at a brothel in Nevada. Don’t you wonder how she ended up there?”

  He sighed. “Not really. I’m afraid her tale will involve something horrible that will once again put you in danger.”

  I rolled my eyes but remained silent for a moment. This was a recurring disagreement for us. Daniel worried about me, but I had a job to do. When I found my voice, it was quiet and subdued. “I have a bad feeling about this. It’s not just Melinda King. Toby thinks other women working at that brothel were Amish. He’s traced a couple of them back to Mt. Carmel. That’s awfully close for comfort, if you ask me.”

  “It is strange that multiple young Amish runaways would get into that line of work.”

  I pulled off my boots, drew up my feet to sit cross-legged on the bed, then faced Daniel. “Maybe they weren’t runaways.”

  Daniel’s eyes widened. “How can it be anything other than young people leaving their communities? They might have
been tricked into going west with promises of working on cattle ranches or being models, who knows. I don’t see it as anything more than that.”

  Daniel didn’t have nearly as wild an imagination as I did. He was also an optimistic soul. That one trait is why he would never make a successful investigator. He wanted to believe in the goodness in people—all people—whereas I knew how truly shitty most of them really were.

  Realizing I’d never convince him of my way of thinking, I skipped ahead to what was important—gathering information. I shot Daniel a flirty smile. “Come on, will you please tell me something about Melinda? Toby and I are heading out to the settlement in the morning. It would sure help me if I had an idea of who this woman is before I begin interviewing the Amish.”

  “Oh, so you’re working a case with Marshal Bryant again. That’s becoming commonplace these days.”

  My eyes flared and I licked my lips. A sense of dread flooded my insides when I finally understood. “Is that why you’re being evasive? You’re jealous of Toby?”

  Daniel opened his mouth to speak and then snapped it shut, looking away. The annoyed expression on his face was endearing and softened my mood. I closed the distance and climbed onto his lap, straddling his legs. “I’m sorry if you’re feeling insecure about my professional relationship with Toby.”

  “Is that all it is, professional?” His brow lifted and his intense gaze held me captive.

  “Toby is a good cop, and because of his previous cases that ended up here in Blood Rock, he has a connection to our little town.” When I saw that Daniel wasn’t moved, I lowered my voice. “He saved my life on more than one occasion. I owe him some help on this case. As sheriff, it’s also in my own interest to find out why Amish women from this area are ending up as prostitutes.” My shoulders dropped. “After the Poplar Springs’ abduction cases last spring, sex slavery is a cause that I’m fully invested in eradicating. I’m sorry, Daniel, but I can’t turn my back on this story. Either you can be difficult, or you can help me. I hope it’s the latter.”