Dangerous (11 page)

“Yes, of course.”

“I understand you're under a ticking clock, Ms. Martell. I'll do anything I can to help.”

“That's Detective Martell,” Camille corrected her.

Amusing Drago to no end. Camille's feathers seemed to be ruffled. Because Eva thought he was hot?

“Ah, I see,” Eva said. “I stand corrected. Detective.”

“Logan Square, huh?” Camille suddenly sounded stressed again. “Leanne Grant's body was found along Logan Boulevard. She was Angel's second victim that we know of. According to the ME, it seemed likely that Angel had her body in the passenger seat of his vehicle, opened the door, and pushed her out without even stopping.”

“And no one saw anything?”

“Not that they would admit to. Leanne was a local. She was dumped five minutes from where she lived.”

“That's five minutes from where
I
live,” Eva said. “Not that I knew her. Still, I could do some follow-up. Maybe find someone who could give us a lead.”

“You could,” Justus agreed, “since you don't have a client yet.”

Camille said, “My team was very thorough questioning people who live on the boulevard.”

“Your team?”

“I was the head of the task force trying to find her before…well, before.”

Camille's expression shifted again into something darker, alarming Drago into saying, “But we will track down Angel and rescue Sandy Kawecki.”

“Sometimes people in that neighborhood do anything to stay away from cops,” Eva said. “I'm not a cop and I live in the area. You never know. I might get something that'll help.”

“By all means,” Drago said.

Their new PI seemed very motivated. Downright aggressive. It wouldn't hurt to enlist her help, even if she stepped on Camille's toes a bit.

“I'll be on it as soon as we're done here.”

Drago glanced at Camille and noted her torn expression.

Then Justus turned his attention on her. “What do you have so far?”

“Angel is or at least was using the name Paul Fox. No idea if that's real or an alias. He's stashed a router in the basement below an apartment he rented for a while. He's been using it to lure his victims into meeting him. Apparently he wears a wig and uses makeup, thick enough on the right side of his face to hide a birthmark or scar.”

“Wow.” Eva sounded impressed. “You got all that in one day.”

Drago nodded. “The CPD has the apartment under surveillance. And the team is going through mug shots looking for someone with something to cover up on the right side of his face.”

Camille added, “And Titus, an old friend of Drago's, is using his network to find information for us.”

Seeing his brother's questioning expression as it turned on
him
, Drago winced inside.

“Sounds like Camille met this Titus.”

“I did,” she said.

Justus's jaw tightened. “Drago, I think you and I need to have a chat. Alone.”

Okay, here it came. Drago knew Justus wasn't going to like what happened last night. Not that he would give his brother the details. “Camille, would you wait for me in the reception room? I'll just be a minute.”

“Sure.”

Eva walked to the door with her. “While we're waiting, you can tell me more about this Angel and the victims he selected. That would give me information to go on.”

Justus barely waited until the door closed behind the two women. “You brought her to that damn biker bar? Where is your good sense?”

“I didn't bring Camille there. I brought her here, to get her car, and told her to go home and get some sleep. She agreed…and then followed me.”

“And you didn't spot her?”

Drago sighed. “I wasn't looking for her.”

He had been thinking about her, which had kept him distracted. Not that he was going to share that with his brother. His punching Anderson had put a rift between him and Justus that still wasn't completely healed.

“You need eyes in the back of your head when you're working a case.” Flipping a pen over and over, Justus threw it down on his desk. “You slip up and someone gets killed. Maybe you.”

“Are we done with the lecture?”

“Not yet. I figured you'd use your old contacts to help you with the case, that's why I put you on it. But I didn't figure you would drag Camille into it.”

“What world are you living in? Camille is a professional. She can take care of herself.” He could still see her head-butting Buzzard in the bar. “You worked with her. You've got to know what she's like, that she's capable.”

“I do. One of the reasons why I assigned you to her. I figured if anyone could keep her in line, it would be you.”

Drago shook his head. As if Camille would do anything he said. He'd never told Justus about that weekend he'd shared with her, and he wasn't about to now.

“I don't know why you pushed me to get my PI license and work for you if you don't trust me.”

“I didn't say that. I do trust you. But Camille isn't herself. There's something eating at her about this case that's making her careless. I'm afraid she'll take unnecessary chances. I don't want to see her get hurt. Or worse.”

Neither did he. “I have Camille's back, Justus.” And not just because she was a client. “Believe that or take me off the case.”

Not that he would stop working it. Like Camille, he would keep on until they rescued the girl.

“I'm not taking you off the case. Just take care of Camille while you're at it.”

Drago smiled. “My pleasure.”

“So did Justus have anything we can use?” Camille asked the moment they got in the car.

“Afraid not. Good that Eva volunteered. She might be of some help.”

Camille had to admit the new hire was more than qualified to work the case, though she still didn't understand how someone from law enforcement would prefer working in the private sector. She didn't even understand why Justus had quit the force. She couldn't imagine not being who she was.

“Then what was that chat about?”

“Something personal.”

Camille frowned. It sounded like there was some kind of disagreement between the brothers. Had Drago stepped over some line by going to Titus? She figured if Drago wanted to talk about it, he would. She kept silent for a moment to give him a chance to do so. But it seemed he wasn't talking. Or moving. He hadn't even started the engine.

“Where to?” she asked.

“I'm thinking.”

“About?”

“About whether or not it would pay to ask around further about Paul Fox.”

“I'm betting the name is as fake as his blond hair.”

“That's what I'm afraid of. It's the only new thing we really have, though. How long did you work on this case before you were taken off?”

“Nearly three months, since Susan Halloran's body was found in the Humboldt Park Lagoon. We were in the middle of investigating her murder when Leanne Grant disappeared. It didn't take long to make that connection.”

“So you had a decent shot at it.”

“We did as thorough a job as we could. There was no evidence trail to follow. No one saw him dump the bodies.”

“No DNA?”

“You know how long that takes. And if he hasn't been convicted of another crime where his DNA was taken by the authorities…”

“No match. No way to identify the killer.” His cell phone jangled. Pulling it from his pocket, Drago checked the screen, then plugged the cell into the speakers. “Titus. Anything good for us?”

“How about a woman who got away from this creep?”

“Another intended victim? When?” Camille asked, wondering if the woman had ever reported the incident.

“Awhile back. About six months.”

So this was before Susan Halloran. How had this woman escaped when Susan and Leanne hadn't? It didn't seem likely.

“You're sure it was Angel who had her?” Camille asked.

“Positive.”

“And she met him online?”

“In a chat room, same as the others.”

Drago asked Titus, “How do we find her?”

“Wish I could tell you. It's like she disappeared into thin air. I have the word out, but nothing so far.”

“Then what more
can
you tell us?” Camille asked, anxious to follow up on this, hoping against hope that the escaped victim had chosen to disappear.

“Name's Noreen Butler. She used to work at a convenience store on Milwaukee Avenue. Bob's Big Mart.”

“I know the place,” Justus said. “Used to…how long ago did she work there?”

“Before she was abducted. Bastard had her for nearly a week. After she got away, she never went back to work but called her friend, one of the other clerks at the mart, to tell her what happened. Said she wasn't coming back. Sorry, but I couldn't get an address for her.”

Pulse thudding with excitement, Camille asked, “Did you get the friend's name?”

“LaShonda Wilson. She still works there.”

“Then that's where we're headed next.”

“Good luck. I'll let you know if I get anything else.”

“Thanks, Titus. I owe you.”

“No, man, you don't. You're not even close.”

Drago started the engine and pulled out of the parking spot. “Let's hope LaShonda works the early shift.” And when Camille pulled out her cell, he asked, “Who are you calling? The store?”

“Your brother. Justus says he still has connections. He can find out whether or not Noreen Butler ever made a complaint.”

“Why not call Jackson yourself?”

“Because Jackson will want me to back off. And if she didn't make a complaint, she may not want to talk to a cop.”

“You're a cop.”

At the moment, she was a woman stripped of her identity, though she didn't want to put that into words. “More like someone who knows the girl Angel is holding and wants to get her back.”

“If we find her, maybe you ought to let me do the talking.”

“
When
we find her…”

This was their first lead of any substance, and Camille wasn't about to let it slip through her fingers.

“Let me do the talking,” Drago repeated.

Camille clenched her jaw shut so she wouldn't start an argument by reminding him once again that he was working for her.

Drago led the way into Bob's Big Mart. The first thing he saw was a skinny old guy with pockmarked skin and bristling white hair attending the register.

“Morning. We're looking for LaShonda Wilson.”

“She's in back, getting some boxes to restock shelves. She'll be out in a minute.”

“We'll wait.”

No customers in the store, but the guy behind the counter looked like he was curious about why they wanted to see LaShonda, so Drago moved away from the register to the front window and Camille followed.

“I was worried she might not be here,” she admitted. “I'm relieved.”

“You
are
going to let me handle this, right?” he asked softly, wanting to handle her more than the conversation.

“If you insist.”

“I do.” She'd dressed down today, wearing a clingy short-sleeved top that emphasized rather than hid her breasts. It was all he could do to keep his hands off her, but he couldn't resist giving her something else to think about. “If I insist…what else will you agree to?” He arched an eyebrow.

“Don't press your luck.”

He'd told himself that several times in the past twenty-four hours, had reminded himself that they didn't fit together, but it made no difference. Good thing he'd gotten used to wanting what he couldn't have.

“There she is.”

A young woman with pale brown skin, her long dark hair in Havana twists, came from the back of the store, two cardboard cartons filled with chips stacked in her arms.

“LaShonda!” the guy at the register called. “You got someone waiting on you.”

As they approached her, LaShonda frowned and set down her boxes in the middle of an aisle. “You looking for me?”

Drago took the lead. “Actually, we're looking for Noreen Butler.”

“Noreen?” Her voice held a bit of an edge. “She quit months ago. I ain't heard from her since.”

“But you know where she lives, don't you?” Camille asked.

Drago surreptiti
ously slid an arm around her back and squeezed her hip to remind her to leave the talking to him.

“Who are you?” LaShonda's expression held a hint of suspicion. “What you want with Noreen?”

“It's important we find her.” Drago kept his voice low. “We know about Angel—”

The young woman gasped and her eyes flew open wide. “You cops?”

“Private investigat
ors.” Drago hoped Camille wouldn't deny it. “This Angel has another girl we're trying to find before he hurts her. She's only fourteen. We think Noreen might be able to tell us something that would help.”

LaShonda looked torn, but she finally said, “Noreen stopped answering her cell. Now it's disconnected.”

“We could find her if we had her address,” Camille said.

Drago gripped her hip harder but she didn't so much as glance his way.

“I don't know exactly where Noreen lives, but not far from here, 'cause she used to walk to work. Someplace in Ukrainian Village with her mama.”

Ukrainian Village being another neighborhood bordering Humboldt Park to the south and east. Logan Square was to the north. All three incidents were within a couple of miles from each other. Drago realized Angel had gone outside that triangle to get to Camille. Or maybe he'd already expanded his territory and the authorities simply weren't aware of that yet because they hadn't found the bodies.

“Nothing more specific?”

“She said the apartment was on Augusta Boulevard.”

“Do you know her mother's name?” Drago asked.

“Mm, Elaine…or Aileen. Something like that.”

“But her last name is Butler?”

LaShonda shrugged. “I'm really sorry. I wish I could help you find that girl. What that jagoff did to Noreen was horrible. I wanted to help her, but she…” She shrugged again, and her dark eyes grew watery.

“Did she describe him?” Camille asked.

Drago gave up. Obviously there was no leaving anything to him.

“She described what he did to her,” LaShonda said. “Someone needs to cut off that prick's dick and stuff it in his mouth and let him choke on it!”

Drago wasn't about to tell her that Noreen was lucky she got away with her life.

Camille kept on. “Did she report it to the police?”

“Don't think so. I tried to convince her, but she doesn't trust the police. She was scared 'cause she got in some trouble a couple times and said they wouldn't do nothin' for her.”

Drago said, “Thank you, LaShonda.”

“You find Noreen, you tell her to call me?”

“You got it.”

She sniffed, glanced at the guy at the register, then picked up one of the boxes. “I better get to work now.”

They started for the door, Camille looking back to say, “Thank you.”

Once out on the sidewalk, Drago said, “You just couldn't leave it to me even though you agreed.”

“Sorry.”

Sure she was.

“I wonder what kind of trouble Noreen got into. I assume Justus will find out.”

Drago was unusually silent, and Camille didn't think it was simply because he was attempting to find the victim's mother's address on his tablet. Anxious to follow the lead and find the woman who'd gotten away from Angel, she was becoming impatient. She couldn't wait to get a pair of cuffs on the killer, couldn't wait to bring Sandy home to her mother. Realistically, she knew she would be bringing the girl to the hospital first, but she didn't want to think too closely on that.

Drago made a sound of disgust that made her ask, “What's wrong?”

“It would have been helpful if LaShonda had been sure of the mother's first name. No Butlers listed in Ukrainian Village. And I've tried Eileen, Aileen, and Elaine and nothing.”

“You want me to look, too? I can use my cell.”

“Yeah, sure, because you don't trust me, not even to find the address of a lead we were given.”

The tension in his voice was as thick as what she was feeling.

“I didn't say I didn't trust you.” But she'd been thinking about it, of course, if not in this circumstance.

“You don't have to say the words, Camille. You've shown your lack of trust in me very clearly several times since yesterday morning.”

Camille didn't know how to respond. She
wanted
to trust Drago. Trust had to be earned, though, and soliciting two criminals plus the violence he'd shown in the biker bar, all on the first day of their investigation, had made her even more uneasy working with him.

“Fine. I'll just sit here doing nothing, then.”

He grunted.

Venting her frustration, she said, “So
you
might want to try a baby name site.”

“What?”

“That's what I was going to do. There are all kinds of variations on spellings of similar names. Some of the sites will give you many choices.”

Another grunt.

She glanced over at the tablet and bit her lip to keep from saying anything more. He'd just called up a bunch of baby-naming sites. He clicked on one and typed in “Aileen.”

“Hmm, a couple dozen variations of the name Aileen. Aileene, Ailene, Aleen, Alene, Aline, Alleen, Allene, Alline…”

He went back to the address directory and typed one of the variations.

“You're welcome,” Camille said.

“Uh, yeah, thanks.”

Such enthusiasm. She sat back and waited, trying to appear patient when her mind was going a mile a minute, replaying every frustrating second she'd spent with him. Good ones, too, including those in that damn hotel room.

Why couldn't Justus have hooked her up with a complete stranger? Like Eva Selano. Despite being put off at first meet, she'd had some time to talk to the new investigator and realized the other woman was sharp and capable as well as aggressive. Then again, maybe Justus simply knew that no matter whom he assigned to the case, she wasn't going to let that person take the lead. Not easily. Maybe he thought Drago could handle her best.

“Got one! Found an Alleen Peyton on Augusta Boulevard in Ukrainian Village.”

“What are we waiting for?”

He was already starting the engine. “Be prepared, though. It might not be Noreen's mother.”

“It could be her. You didn't find any Butlers.”

Pulling away from the curb, he said, “She could have moved.”

“Or remarried.”

She was counting on that.

The address was that of a 3-flat on a quiet side street. Anticipation made Camille race up the steps and ring the second floor bell marked Peyton.

No answer.

She tried again.

Drago stood behind her, so close she could almost feel him. “One more time.”

Camille pressed the bell but there was still no response. “No one home.”

“She's probably at work.”

Knowing he was correct—it was halfway through the day—she felt deflated for a moment.

“Do we wait?” Drago asked.

Not having a better idea at the moment, Camille agreed. “Let's give it a shot.”

They opted for the bench on the porch rather than going back to the car. Maybe a mistake. Their hips bumped together, shooting a frisson of something inappropriate through her. Despite the urgency of their mission, she wasn't immune to Drago. She feared she never would be. Nor did he seem to be. The way he was looking at her…she swore it was with a familiar hunger.

He pulled himself together. “How long do we wait?”

“Until we figure out something else to do. Any ideas?”

“Lots of ideas.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, his searing stare sending her stomach tumbling.

“I meant about the case.”

“I was counting on this lead.”

So was she. “I feel like I'm ready to jump out of my skin.”

“You're hiding it far better than you did yesterday. That sleep did wonders for you.”

“Sorry you had to use the couch instead of your own bed.”

“Who said I slept on the couch?”

Camille started. She'd wondered if he'd been in bed with her. Surely not. Surely she would know. And if he had…Her flesh quivered at the thought.

“You didn't sleep with me.”

“Sure about that? What kind of dreams were you having? You made these sexy little moans that—”

“Stop! Please.” Her insides churned just thinking about it. “I know you're trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?”

Before she could answer, a woman carrying a cloth bag in each hand approached the steps. Middle-aged with short red hair. Camille guessed this was Noreen's mother. She and Drago got to their feet at the same time. And the woman stopped short halfway up the steps.

“Are you Alleen Peyton?” Camille asked.

Frozen where she stood, the woman looked from her to Drago. “What's it to you?”

“We're looking for your daughter,” he said.

She shuttered her gaze. “I have no daughter.”

“Please.” Though her heart was racing, Camille kept her voice even. “We know what happened to Noreen, and that she escaped somehow. Angel took another victim. A fourteen-year-old girl this time.”

The woman's eyes met hers. “Who are you?”

“Private investigators. We're trying to save the girl before it's too late,” Drago said. “Check it out with Justus Investigations on Ravenswood if that'll make you feel better.”

The woman's expression broke, revealing her pain. “Feel better? Nothing will make me feel better after what that pig did to my baby.”

“Then Noreen
is
your daughter.” Camille swallowed hard, praying for that break they needed.

Alleen came up the final steps to the porch and set her grocery bags down. “She is and isn't. Not the same girl I raised. My daughter was fearless and adventurous. Now she's afraid of her own shadow. Who could blame her? A few weeks after she escaped that devil, she swore she saw him in the neighborhood. She feared he was looking for her, to take her again, so the next day she packed a couple of bags and moved out.”