Exposed by Rage (9 page)

I woke on the bed, fully dressed, with the comforter pulled over me, to see sunlight streaming in the windows.  DeMarco was gone but a note on his pillow told me he had to go to the department but would meet me at the hotel to talk to the girls.  A leisurely stretch, a hot shower and clean clothes had me ready for breakfast and I hoped Poppy was still around to fix a hearty one.  Instead I found a package on the table addressed to me that Poppy must have placed there.

Most people get excited and anticipate the surprise inside an unexpected gift.  I don’t.  My suspicious cop’s mind had me checking for a return address.  Running my fingers along the seams and checking for wires.  Cautiously peeling the brown wrap open, careful to preserve any fingerprints that might be on the inside of the paper,

Inside was a jewelry box I recognized from Trixie’s dressing table.  One I had been fascinated with when I was a kid.  It had held gaudy paste rings and necklaces.  Items that had been replaced with the real thing as her career had burgeoned.  My hand shook as I reached for the clasp to unlock the lid.

My head was filled with images of Trixie.  Hurt.  Bloody. Dead.  It took three attempts to actually put my hand on the intricately carved top and lift it open.  I held my breathe at what I saw. Mixed among the original contents, a ring Trixie treasured with a miniature USB drive slipped through it. Frozen, I couldn’t lift if out.

The discovery that you don’t really hate someone.  Don’t really want them to vanish from your life, hits like a 100 mile per hour bowling ball to the head when you are faced with the possibility you won’t see them again. I found tears streaming down my cheeks when DeMarco arrived in record time.  Damn I needed to get the faucets fixed this crying stuff was irritating.

He didn’t try to comfort me, instead he put on gloves and collected the paper, and a note that fell on the floor when he lifted the box.  We didn’t open it, but took it with us back to station, where he delivered it directly to the head crime scene investigator, who began to immediately process it.  When the note and the enclosed picture were determined to be free of prints and possible DNA samples, they were handed to me inside clear evidence packets.

A brief prayer to the universe that I had been overreacting at the house went unanswered. The sender had written on the pristine white paper in uneven, black, block lettering,

Trixie is next. Back off if you want her back alive.

The picture was like a scene from a bad X rated movie.  Trixie bound and gagged.  Only the fear in her eyes confirmed she wasn’t acting.  She just wasn’t that good as a thespian.

“Do you know where that is?  DeMarco asked, flicking his finger on the picture.

“No clue, was there anything helpful on the box or the wrap?”

“Nothing, so let’s go take a look at the USB.  See what your friend sent you.”

The computer guy, English, plugged in the drive, and the same scene as the picture came up on the oversize screen.  There were thumps coming from the speakers, and then someone cleared their throat.

“Test.  Are you picking this up?  The muffled voice asked. 

A grunt I took as a yes, was the next sound I heard.

More throat clearing, then the same voice said, “As you can see, we are holding Trixie and demand you give us ten million dollars.  Not negotiable.  You have twenty found hours.  We will contact you with instructions for our payment.”  A loud click signaled the microphone had been turned off, but the camera continued to record my mother’s bondage.  She appeared to be watching her captors as her eyes followed someone or something off screen.  A shadow cross the floor where she was sitting against the wall as someone walked in front of the lighting. 

The room was over bright, maybe there were large windows and the combination of natural and lamplight were causing an overexposure. The floor was old, dark wood, scratched from years of furniture or equipment being moved around it.  Apparently no one tried to maintain it.

The walls were a dirty grey, more like an industrial or institutional paint than a residence, and the furniture was old, cheap and non-descript.  The only thing I could see that might give a clue, was the bottom right corner of a, calendar, poster or unframed picture.  The problem was you couldn’t tell what it was an image of.  All I saw were stripes that varied in depth, of blue, green, red, and brown. Something about the scene pulled at me, my head itched, a sure sign I had something deep in my brain and it wasn’t floating up to the surface. 

* * * *

When we had enhanced the images and audio, and viewed the video until I thought my eyes would bleed. DeMarco called an impromptu meeting with the English and others who had been working on the investigation and in the office. 

Just as we entered the conference room, my phone rang—it was Dylan.  “I’ve got files from Enid, the sheriff’s office, and a couple of other small departments in the area.”

“We’re at the police station about to go in for a briefing,” I told him.  “Bring what you’ve got and sit in with us.”

“Great, that’s where I was headed.  Be there in five.”  He disconnected.

“Dylan found something in Oklahoma,” I told DeMarco.  “He’ll be here in a few minutes, can we wait for him?”

The door opened and Dylan appeared.  He’d overestimated the time it would take to get here, or had already been in the parking lot. 

“Sure,” DeMarco answered.  “Dylan, give the files to Braden.  He’ll get copies made for all of us.”

Braden took the storage boxes Dylan was holding, and exited the room, returning a moment later.  Apparently he had passed the copying off to one of the administrative staff. No wonder he hadn’t piss and moaned about the assignment.

“Ashely Gibson,” he waved his hand in my direction, “received a package early this morning and it held a video indicating Trixie Dix, the adult film producer, may be in the hands of our killer,” DeMarco said without preamble.  “We’ve been though it a dozen times and haven’t been able to determine where she’s being held.  The team that made the film is demanding a ransom.  We’ve already set up Ashley’s phone to capture any calls, and I’ve sent a team to her property for the same purpose.”

“The gentleman who just joined us is Jasper
Dylan, military police and friend of Ashely.  He’s been to Oklahoma where we believe the girl who was murdered in the snuff film may have been from.  Take a look at what he brought back when the copies are brought in, Ashely and I are meeting with two women who are reporting they have had friends go missing.  I want to see if these missing women relate to our investigation as well.

“So what do you have to report?”

English started. “We got the computer at the Dix house and I gave the team a list of her contacts.  There were a few files that had been passcode protected, but were related to some—movie she was planning on shooting next month.  What we did find were some emails that look like they’ve come from people who object to her profession—nothing that looks connected to her disappearance or why anyone would burn down her house.”

The detective sitting next to English gave a brief report, and the rest followed in order of where they were seated.  Noting promising.  Nothing eye opening.    When they got to Dylan that changed. 

“Seven women in two years have been found in and around Enid.  There could be more.  Several were tortured in a manner similar to what was done to the girl in the film.  The rest were too decomposed to make a final call on that.

Law enforcement never connected the crimes, the bodies were dumped.  One in Enid the rest in various small town jurisdictions.  None of the women were identified. The ME and coroners seem to be good at their jobs, but missed the connections on these deaths.”

The copies arrived as Dylan finished his update.  A young, serious looking woman passed them to each of the investigators, including DeMarco and I, setting the originals on a table next to the door.”

“Ash and I have to go, Braden you and the others stay here and go through these files, see if you find anything.”  Picking up his copy of the file, he stood and walked out of the room.  I followed.

In the car, with DeMarco driving, I scanned the pictures that went with each file.  For murder investigations the files were pitifully small, but the photographers had known what they were doing.  The lotus was captured on the bodies of two who had been the least decomposed.  One a clear brand, the other recognizable only because I was looking for it.  That made me wonder if the same person had branded the women.  It would seem that experience would make the burns more visible, but Jillie’s had been almost impossible to connect to the lotus.  Setting the thought aside as we pulled up to the hotel, I put the pictures back into their files.

Lilly and Geraldine were older than I expected.  Coming to the end of their screen careers for sure.  They had pictures on their cell phones of the friend that went missing, as well as other actors from the area.  I had Geraldine send them to me, I thought I recognized at least one of them from the photos in the car, but I wasn’t going to mention it to them.

“So tell us why you think something happened to your friend,” DeMarco asked. 

“Mimi. Her name is Mimi,” Lilly said.  “She’s a lot younger than we are and not as discriminating about the people she works for.  We met her on a set about six months ago and she began hanging around a lot.”

“She was uncomfortable with some of the people she had met,“ Geraldine told us.  “Wanted someone to know where she was when she accepted a gig. Lately she hadn’t been as open about things.  We thought maybe she had met someone, but she said no.” 

I felt like I was at a ping pong match as Lilly and Geraldine took us through the story.

So about three weeks ago, she just vanished.  Geraldine tried to call her, we went by her place.  Nothing.  She had even given us a key, and we peeked in to make sure she wasn’t sick, but we didn’t go through her things.”

“Have you got the key with you?  I’ll get someone from Enid to go in and take a look around.  Maybe send one of my guys up as well.”   DeMarco told them¸ his voice gentle and reassuring. 

I watched Lilly hesitate for just a moment before handing the key to DeMarco.  If I had been Lilly I would have been thinking turning over the key was too close to admitting Mimi wasn’t coming back.   “Do you know anyone else that was close to Mimi?  Anyone who might know where she went?”

Geraldine answered. “We know everyone I think, but we’ve asked every one we know and no one has a clue any more than we do.”

“I heard Detective DeMarco ask you to prepare a list of the players around here.  Do you have that with you?”

They both nodded as Lilly again dug through her bag, withdrawing an envelope with DeMarco’s name printed on the front and handing it to me. 

“Why didn’t you report Mimi missing to the Enid police?”  I suspected I knew the answer but had to ask anyway.

“What would they have done?  When they found out Mimi appears in adult films they’d have dropped the file in the trash.  Enid is a nice, quiet town and mostly no one hassles us, but they don’t do anything to help us either,” Lilly face held a note of defiance.  “We wouldn’t be speaking to you if Jerry hadn’t asked us to. “

DeMarco asked a few more questions and assured the women he would do what he could to get their local police involved in the search for Mimi.  Considering what Dylan had found, that shouldn’t be too difficult. 

* * * *

Back in the car, I took a look at the list the women had given me.  I knew most of the names, but hadn’t seen many of them in some time.  Eve, Mimzi, a few of the guys that hung out at Trixie’s and of course George.  Not surprising since most of them had come to Texas from that Oklahoma. Anything north of the Red River was northern or that seemed to be the sentiment in Texas when I was growing up.  I doubted people in the area thought that way anymore, especially with all the real Yankees who had moved into the area. 

DeMarco dropped me back at the house, where the work was underway to make the updates I wanted after the initial cleanup of Jillie’s room.  It was astounding how fast something could be done when you had enough money.   Poppy must have heard me drive up, and joined me as I was doing a run through of the changes.  A woman followed behind her. 

“We just got in and I heard your car.  Ashley, this is Caroline.  Your new manager of VixSin.  I told her she could move in with me in the pool house since you’re planning on moving out tomorrow.  She just dropped by to get the key and is off to pack up her things.”

I studied the woman who appeared to be my age and build.  She could have been beautiful and was pretty enough, but she had a rather disapproving set to her jaw.  I hoped Poppy was right about her—that she would fit in with the others at the club.  Then she smiled and the doubts fled. 

“So nice to meet you Ms. Gibson.  Please call me Carol or Summers.  Sorry we couldn’t get together, but Poppy said you’re helping to investigate all the things going on around here.  I dated a MP a while back.  Smart guy and could solve most anything.  I’m guessing that’s how you have to be to hold that job.”

“Do you have any concerns about moving in here?  We’ve had some experiences recently that would make most people want to avoid me and this place.”

“No.  I’m good.  I wasn’t in the service, but my parents insisted I get plenty of self-defense training.  I can shoot and have a few moves some of dad’s Special Forces guys taught me, plus your friend Dylan will be here a while longer.  I want to thank you for giving me this chance.  Poppy said I’m free to do what I think best about adding or removing staff and doing some updates and she already approved some.  Of course, even so, I wouldn’t want to do anything you don’t like so maybe we can have some weekly meetings after all this dies down.”

“Great, to have you with us Summers and nice to see you’re ready to work.  I’ve added some security at the “Sin” and if you think we need to we can add more.  Look forward to hearing your ideas.”  We shook hands and she excused herself to drive back to Houston and collect her things. 

“Not what I expected,” I put my arm through Poppy’s and we walked upstairs to see the bedroom turned office.  “I’m going to miss you but Carol looks like a winner.  It will be nice to have that part of all this settled.  How is Kevin?  I feel bad that I haven’t checked in with him.

He’s doing okay.  Starting to lose the dazed look in his eye.  Kitty and Buster have been helping him out without making a big deal out of it and he’s not challenging them.  Kitty’s also working to make sure Butch is okay.  Good lady.”

We stepped into the newly carpeted room that no longer looked anything like a bedroom and there was nothing left to remind me of Jillie.  Bookcases lined the walls, a sitting area with couch, chairs, and small tables had been set up on the left of the room.  The desk, gleaming brightly in the sun, was to the right.  A tall-boy cabinet sat behind it and I knew it had a printer, and other hardware tucked into it.   The sitting room had been made up as a conference room with table and chairs as well as the small bar that held a coffee maker and mini-refrigerator.  These amenities had been downscaled—removing mirrors and fancy drink ware Jillie had enjoyed.

This luxury was something I was going to have to get used to again.  After leaving here, entering the Army and doing a couple of tours, I had forgotten how little I had missed all this.  Now it was mine and I was going to have to figure out how I wanted it to look and feel.  The office was a good start.

Poppy and I walked back across the grounds to the pool house for the last meal I would get to enjoy from her creative cookbook.  I was hoping the new housekeeper the agency was sending would have similar skills—but admit I hadn’t asked.  I could eat anything put in front of me and I wasn’t picky.  It was more important they have inability to deal with the people who would be coming and going to the house without judging them. I also required self-defense skills.  I didn’t want a krav maga expert, but someone who could stay alert and hold their own if the need arose.  And of course she or he would have to have the ability to keep the dust down. I imagined a slew of maids would be required to make sure everything was sparkling clean.

* * * *

DeMarco, joined Poppy, Dylan and I for dinner.  Afterward the four of us spread out the files he brought and began the review of every piece of information that had been collected.  The work of the police--military, city, county, whatever--was pretty much the same.  You kept looking at what you had, burning every detail into your mind, and hope that something floats up and grabs you to help you find the one who “dun it”.

I hadn’t actually read through the files from Oklahoma until now, and even as I went through the first one, that itch was back.  Nagging at me to remember something.  I pulled out the pictures again, and began to post them on the walls around the dining table. 

Dylan stopped and helped to put them in order, then stood back with me looking at the horror that decorated the wall.  Somewhere in here I had seen something.  Something that wasn’t obvious, but was trying to tell me something I needed to know.  I walked slowly past each of the images, studying them individually then comparing them to the ones I’d already seen.  Bodies, skeletons, clothing, shirts, dresses, slacks, shoes.

When I saw it I couldn’t believe what it told me.  Every one of these had on a braided anklet, bracelet or necklace.  Everyone a different combination of colors all holding the same charm.  A tiny flower.  A lotus.  These women were all victims of the same killer, and there was one person I knew who had met them all or the person who killed them.  The woman who had created this jewelry that could only be purchased from her and only by people in the industry. 

Eve.

I wanted to jump up and run out.  Find Eve and make her tell me what she knew.  But I couldn’t.  She and everyone else who had been at Trixie’s had disappeared and no one had heard from them.  Were they all together?  Maybe responsible for what was happening to Trixie?

It didn’t make sense.  A conspiracy of some kind with that many people involved including the loyal boy toys and Mimzi the bubble brain?  There had to be another explanation.  Where would a dozen people go together, that would make it difficult to communicate with them?  The middle of a desert?  In the Outback of Australia?  The North Pole?

I grabbed my phone and dialed the Galveston Harbor Master.  Five minutes later I had at least part of an answer.  Trixie’s boat had left with a party on board.  He knew that Trixie was not on board, since she had not stopped before the ship left. She never left the harbor without a personal thanks to the Harbor Master and his team.

“At least I don’t have to keep wondering if there are a pile of bodies somewhere.”

Demarco nodded.  “So none of them would have a cell that would work out there?  I would think they are they kind of people who want to stay in touch.”

“Trixie always had them turn in their phones.  Said they interfered with the benefits of the relaxation the cruise would provide.  She really believes you have to totally disconnect some time, but usually someone I have in my contact list knows where the group has gone.”

DeMarco reached out and put his hand on my arm.  The warmth of his touched eased the ache of worry.   “And this time is different, no one has seen her or any of the others and no one knew they were going to take off.  So why keep it secret?”

“Maybe it was a last minute decision,” Dylan said.  “From what you’ve described Ash, she’s not known for keeping a regular schedule.  But the thing is, even if she did send everyone off on a sudden holiday—where is she?”

DeMarco got up and began to walk the photo line.  “Too many clues, nothing solid.  I think whoever is responsible for this is just toying with us.  We need to find something specific to focus on and follow it to the end.”

I hadn’t told the guys what led me to think about the yacht.  “Before the call I recognized something in the pictures.  In all of them.  They have on hand crafted jewelry that Eve makes.  And when you look closely all of them have a lotus charm.”

“Damn the fuckin’ devil,” Dylan blurted.  “Even though I got to see some of the evidence, I missed that completely.”

“Settle down honcho I didn’t see it at first either.  They had different styles, and no two pieces of Eve’s work is exactly like another.  I just know her style.  I watched her make things for years.”

“What did or didn’t happen before doesn’t matter,” DeMarco said.  “Now we have something to investigate on the dead girls, and I have a feeling it’s going to lead us to the answers in Jillie’s and Randi’s murders as well.”