Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 03 - Thrilled to Death (31 page)

“The big guy sold me. I was drugged most of the time, but I remember that. The buyer talked about me like I wasn’t even a person.” Danette choked up and had to pause. “Then he moved me to another basement and kept drugging me. I kept thinking I’d heard his voice before, but I don’t know where. Eventually, I ended up on the boat with the other woman. She said we were sold as sex slaves to someone in The Netherlands. I think we were on our way to Seattle.”

“Do you know the other woman?”

“I saw her at the outreach center once. Her name is Marcella. We didn’t get many chances to talk.” Danette closed her eyes. “How did you find me?”

Jackson didn’t want to tell her about Courtney yet. “We figured out who they were supposed to kidnap and why. That led us to Seth Valder. He’s the big guy and the first place you were taken. His phone records led us to Elias Goodbe. When we learned Goodbe had a boat in Florence, we decided to check it out.”

“Mr. Goodbe! I knew I’d heard that voice somewhere.” Danette looked devastated. “He runs a charity. Is that the whole point of it? To find women to sell?”

“We just started investigating him.”

Danette reached over and squeezed his arm. “I can’t ever thank you enough. My life would have become a nightmare. Once you’re in a situation like that, in a foreign country, how do you get out? How do you get home without ID or money?” She shuddered. “I’m not the first, am I? This has happened to other women. They’re living that nightmare.”

Jackson struggled to find something comforting to say. “We’ll find out who you were sold to. We’ll shut this operation down.”

“Good. That bastard. Pretending to help young women so he could grab them and sell them into a life of hell. For money!” Danette started to cry again, but Jackson couldn’t comfort her. He realized she would need some counseling. She might never fully get over this.

After a while, Danette dozed off. He checked on Brooke. She was lying down on the seat, but her eyes were open. Jackson called Evans and filled her in.

Kera ran out to the car and Katie followed with Micah. Jackson was relieved. He couldn’t leave Brooke alone in the back even for a moment. Kera embraced Danette as she climbed out of the car, and the two women cried as they hugged. Jackson rolled down his window and Katie leaned in and gave him a kiss, still holding Micah.

“I’m so proud of you.”

Danette came around the car and took Micah in her arms, silent tears streaming down her face. Jackson wanted to get going before he got caught up in the emotion. He knew Kera needed more, so he got out of the car. She hugged him like he’d been gone for a month.

“Thank you,” she whispered against his face.

“My pleasure,” Jackson whispered back. “I have to go. I have a suspect in custody.”

“I know.”

He finally drove off, watching his family embrace in the rearview mirror. Brooke moved and blocked his view. She was mouthing something at him, so he reached back and slid the glass open a little.

“I want to stop and see my mother for a moment before you take me to jail. It’s important.”

“Sorry. It’s not on the agenda.”

“She’s dying, you know. She could die today and I want a chance to say goodbye.”

Jackson gave it some thought. Was Elle that close to death? She had sounded weak when she called him that morning, but he hated to be played. “I don’t trust you.”

“Look, I’ll tell you everything, but only if you let me see my mother first.”

A full confession? To what? Did Brooke know about Goodbe’s sex slave business?
“Will you tell me about the women on the boat?”

“Only if you take me to my mother’s first. Please. She’s dying. Have a heart.” Brooke sounded near tears.

Jackson pulled over, put the car in park, and turned to face her. “Why were you on a boat at the coast with Elias Goodbe instead of at home with your mother?”

“I was running. I thought I couldn’t face watching her die.” Brooke’s eyes pleaded with him. “I love her and I need to tell her.”

Jackson decided there was little harm in a five-minute stop. He would do it more for Elle than for Brooke.

The house loomed large as ever, but the wealth it represented no longer made Jackson feel inadequate. The Durhams’ money hadn’t helped them in the long run. They were still human and still vulnerable to disease and death. He wondered if the money had made the daughters even more vulnerable.

“Hey, my arms hurt,” Brooke said, as she climbed from the back seat. “Will you at least move the cuffs to the front, so I can change positions?” It was a reasonable request. Most suspects had a much shorter ride to custody than the sixty-mile trip Brooke had experienced. Jackson uncuffed one wrist, spun her around, and quickly recuffed her in the front.

“Thanks. It will still be weird for Mom to see me like this.”

Jackson kept Brooke in front of him, and she was able to open the front door and lead them in. The housekeeper was nowhere in sight.

“Mom’s probably in bed,” Brooke said, heading down the hallway.

Jackson followed, realizing for the first time since Elle told him she was dying that Brooke would inherit this house, and all the property they owned around town, and all the money in the bank. Depending on what she was convicted of, Brooke was likely to have most of her life to enjoy it.

They entered the largest master bedroom Jackson had ever been in. The suite of connected sitting areas was decorated in beige and peach like Elle’s office. Elle Durham seemed tragically tiny in the oversized bed in the oversized room.

“Mom, it’s Brooke. Wake up for a minute.” With her cuffed hands, Brooke gently nudged her mother’s shoulder.

Elle opened her eyes. “Brooke, dear, you’re back early. I’m so glad.”

“I had to see you. How is the pain today?”

“The same, but more.”

Jackson shifted, feeling like an intruder.

Brooke turned to him, and before she could ask, he said, “I’ll give you a little privacy.” He moved back about ten feet, still blocking the only entrance to the area. Brooke wasn’t going anywhere without him.

It wasn’t easy to offer comfort with her wrists cuffed, but Brooke tried. She stroked her mother’s hair and handed her a glass of water. After a minute, Brooke began to cry. Jackson thought maybe he’d done the right thing in letting her come here. Losing a parent at twenty was a shock to the system, like having your roots yanked out of the ground. Jackson had never had that chance to say goodbye to his folks. He’d learned from his supervisor at work that their names were on a crime report and he would never see them again.

He watched as Brooke leaned over and hugged her mother. He wanted to believe she hadn’t known about the captive women in the bowels of the yacht, but it seemed unlikely. What had Brooke been doing with Goodbe? Looking for Daddy love? Either way, they would have a hard time prosecuting her as an accomplice unless Goodbe turned against her. He remembered Goodbe was in the hospital. So was Schak. Was it time to call and ask how his partner was doing?

Jackson moved toward Brooke. “Let’s go.”

She gave her mother a final kiss, then slipped away from the bed.

At the department, Jackson put Brooke in the interrogation room. He went to his desk to call the Florence hospital. He learned Schak was still in critical condition.

He jumped up as Evans approached his desk. “I got the warrant,” she said, waving the thick stack of papers. Then she frowned. “What do you hear about Schak?”

“Still critical.”

“I hate it that he’s in Florence.”

“We’ll go see him tomorrow. Right now, we have a suspect to interrogate.”

“Let’s do it.”

Brooke, being young, female, and well groomed, seemed out of place in the dingy room. The women who ended up here had usually lived much harder lives. Brooke also seemed strangely serene. She smiled softly as they sat across from her.

“This interview is being recorded,” Jackson said, getting the legalities out of the way. “State your name, please.”

“Brooke Ashley Durham.” Jackson studied her face. She had the same features as Courtney, only subtly bigger. Her cheeks were wider, her nose a little longer, her chin a little more pronounced. She was still attractive, but not in the head-turning way Courtney had been. He felt guilty for comparing them. Brooke had probably spent her whole life feeling like the not-so-pretty sister.

“I’m Detective Jackson and this is Detective Evans. What were you doing on that boat this morning?”

“Having sex, right up until you showed up, that is.” She grinned, amused at herself.

“How long has Elias Goodbe been your lover?”

“About eight months.”

“Why did you help him hold those women hostage?”

She stopped smiling. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There were two women in a small room downstairs in the boat. They were drugged and bound.”

“I didn’t know.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “The bastard!”

“In the car, you said you’d tell me all about them.”

“I just wanted to go see my mom. I didn’t know about the women, I swear. Did Elias kidnap them?” She looked puzzled and hurt.

“What do you know about Elias Goodbe?”

“Apparently, not much.”

Evans spoke up. “You’ll likely be charged with accessory to kidnapping unless you tell us what you know about Goodbe’s sex slave operation.”

“I don’t care what you charge me with. I don’t know about any sex slaves. I mean, I knew Elias financed local porno films, but that’s legal as far as I know.”

“Do you know Seth Valder?”

“Nope.”

“How did you meet Goodbe?”

“At the center. I volunteered there for a while to make my mother happy.”

Jackson was impatient. “You said you would tell me everything. Remember?”

“I will. You’re just not asking the right questions.”

Evans leaned in. “Did Goodbe know Courtney?”

Brooke winked at her. “Of course, the woman gets it.”

Jackson’s brain spun, trying to make the connections. He’d been seeing Goodbe as an opportunist who took Danette off Valder’s hands, thinking he could make some easy money. Was Goodbe involved with Courtney too?

Brooke looked at Evans. “He wasn’t fucking her if that’s what you’re asking. Not that Courtney didn’t try. I mean, once she knew Elias and I were lovers, she made a play for him, but it was too late.”

“How did you feel about that? Courtney going after your guy?” Evans kept up the questions, while Jackson reeled.

Brooke gave a little shrug. “I’m used to it. But Elias didn’t go for it. Courtney repulsed him.”

It hit Jackson, like a baseball bat to the chest. Brooke was intensely jealous of her sister and repulsed at the same time.
How deep was the resentment?

“Where were you the night Courtney died?”

“Home, with Mom.” She waited, then said, “For a while.”

“Then what happened?”

“I got an e-mail from Courtney asking me to pick her up. Her stupid little kidnapping adventure was over and Brett had refused to play taxi.”

“You knew about the kidnapping in advance?”

“Of course. I’m the one who told her about ThrillSeekers.” A small smile played on Brooke’s lips.

“Where did you hear about them?” Jackson was laying the foundation for what was coming next. It felt like a freight train shaking the ground, even though he couldn’t see all of it yet.

“Elias, of course. He’s very well connected in a variety of circles. My mother only knew of the one though.” Brooke’s tone was so flat and serene, it was unnerving.

“Why would you tell Courtney about a company like ThrillSeekers?”

“It was fun to watch her bounce from one freaky thing to another. She was so easy to manipulate. It was a like a game for me.”

“Did you expect Courtney to get hurt during the kidnapping?”

“It was certainly a possibility.” Brooke smiled slyly, and Jackson felt a shiver of disgust.

“After Courtney e-mailed you, you went to pick her up, didn’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Tell us what happened.”

“I’d like some water first please.”

Evans moved without being asked. While she was gone, Jackson said, “Did Elias Goodbe ever discuss Danette Blake with you?”

“No.”

“What about someone named Marcella?”

“No. Listen.” Brooke shifted forward, a little more intent. “I didn’t know he was holding women on the boat. It disgusts me, and I would never participate in forcing other women into sexual slavery. I’m a mess, I know that, but I’m not a sociopath and I’m not heartless.” She flopped back. “I can’t believe I fell for someone who would do something like that.”

At the end of her spiel, Jackson thought her words had begun to slow a little. She was probably exhausted.

Evans came back with a paper cup of water and set it down in front of Brooke. With one of her cuffed hands, Brooke reached for the water. Both hands came up together as she took a long drink. She set the cup down slowly.

“Where were we?” Brooke stared straight at Jackson.

“You were going to tell us what happened when you went down to pick up Courtney.”

“When I got there, she was having trouble breathing. She gets like that when she goes outside sometimes.” Brooke’s eyes shifted away. “It was hard to see her like that. I mean, I knew it would happen, but still, to stand there and watch.”

“How did you know it would happen?”

A sad little smile. “I emptied her inhaler.”

Jesus. What was wrong with these Durham girls?

“You wanted her to have an asthma attack?” Evans was surprised and forgot to hide it.

“Oh, come on.” Brooke rolled her eyes. “That’s why we’re here, right?”

There was a moment of silence, and a creepy dread filled Jackson’s stomach.
Dear God. Brooke had murdered her sister
.

Brooke kept talking, her voice flat. “I loved Courtney. And I hated Courtney. She got all the attention, yet she still had to steal my boyfriends. She also broke my mother’s heart over and over. Courtney was so selfish.”

“Tell us what happened that night.”

“She was having a serious asthma attack, but she wouldn’t die. Courtney started walking for the car, carrying that empty inhaler and gasping like an old emphysema patient in her last throes.” Brooke gave her head a little shake, as if to ward off sleepiness. “I really hoped I wouldn’t have to get involved, but it was taking too long. So I came up behind her, put my hands over the little love bruises Brett left on her neck, and squeezed. She went down fast after that.”