The Shark (Forgotten Files Book 1) (22 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Tuesday, September 20, 6:00 p.m.

Riley watched as Sharp knelt by Cassie’s body, taking in the details now burned in her mind. The girl had been strangled, like Vicky, with a thin cord. Her nails and toenails were manicured, and her hair fashioned in soft curls that still hung around her face in a grotesquely odd way. Cassie wore the yellow dress, though it gapped around her waist and breasts.

Sharp approached Riley. “Tell me again how you found her?”

“Cooper and I responded to a call. When we found Kevin Lewis’s car covered in bullet holes and blood, I decided to do a sweep of the area with Cooper and we found her.”

“Where’s Cooper?”

“In the SUV hanging out.”

“Two bodies within a week, Riley. What the hell gives?”

“Bowman thinks it’s the Shark.”

“Yeah, I understand that. Is this all because of you?”

She tightened her jaw, wishing she didn’t have to speak the words. “Yeah, I think so.”

“You still have no memories of the time you were taken?”

“Only very vague ones. Smell of cigars. Sound of poker chips. Nothing concrete. If I had anything solid, I would have brought it to you.”

Sharp muttered a curse. “The forensic guys didn’t find anything on the cards you gave me.”

“There was also a video delivered to me. It was shot during those missing days. I gave it to Bowman to analyze.”

“Shit.”

“He said his people have state-of-the-art equipment that can analyze it faster than anything we have.”

A dark SUV arrived on the scene; she recognized it as Bowman’s. Oddly, she felt tremendous relief. Bowman strode toward them, his long legs eating up the distance. Deep lines were etched around his mouth and eyes as if the frown had always been there. His gaze swept over Riley. “I received your text.”

“Cooper and I found the missing girl.”

He looked over at the car. “Who called in the car’s location?”

“Russell Hudson.”

“The man who found Vicky?” Bowman asked.

“Yes.”

“Where’s he now?”

“Sitting in the deputy’s car,” Sharp said. “And he is annoyed.”

“Can I talk to him?” Bowman’s tone made the question sound more like an order.

Sharp heard it, frowned. “Sure. But I want to be present.”

“I want in as well,” Riley said.

“No,” Sharp said. “You stay clear of this for now.”

“I might hear something you don’t.”

“No, stay away. I’ll fill you in on anything that needs to be discussed. For now, I want you to clock out. Go home. I’ll call you later. And, Bowman, I want to know more about the video Riley gave you.”

“Understood,” Bowman said. His stern expression told her she’d have no help from him. It wasn’t her nature to cave, but if staying clear helped catch a killer, she’d give in for now.

She left, moving to her SUV with long deliberate strides. And when she slid behind the wheel, she couldn’t help but fight overwhelming anger. As she watched Bowman and Sharp walk to the deputy’s car, she smacked her fist against the steering wheel. “Damn it.”

With Sharp beside him, Bowman approached the car. Before he reached the vehicle, he saw the anger etched in Hudson’s face. Hudson was tugging at a loose thread on his pant leg as he tapped his foot. Bowman rapped on the door. The old man looked up, cursed, and got out of the car.

“Who are you?” Hudson demanded.

Sharp introduced Bowman and himself. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Jesus, I’m tired of questions. I want you off my land, and I want to get my field prepped so I don’t get sued by the festival. Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have taken that deal. Too good to be true.”

“What was too good?” Bowman asked.

“The music festival. But he offered so much money.”

“Who offered the money?” Bowman asked.

“The music promoter. Cain Duncan.”

The name didn’t mean anything to Bowman, but he would put Andrews on it. “Why were you out here this morning?”

“I came out to check on the church and saw this car shot up to hell. I called the cops.”

“And Trooper Tatum responded,” Sharp said.

“Yeah, fancy that,” Hudson said.

“Did you see anyone out here when you arrived?” Bowman asked.

“No. I didn’t see nothing.” He kicked the dirt and spat. “Someone’s jerking my chain and I don’t like it.”

“What can you tell me about Duncan?” Bowman asked.

“He contacted me about six months ago. Said he wanted to hold an outdoor concert and said my land was the perfect location because it was close to the interstate and there were enough fields for parking.”

“Have you met him?” Bowman asked.

“Talked to his assistant on the phone, but I haven’t met him in person. He was on the television the other day getting interviewed. Press is all hyped about the bands he’s got signed. I heard the motels in the area are all sold out and the restaurants are getting ready for more customers. Gonna be good for the area.”

“I’d like to see the contract,” Bowman said. He reached for his cell phone.

“Sure.”

“Thanks for your time.” He texted Andrews and asked him to pull up what he could on Cain Duncan.

“Even if Duncan isn’t involved, just news of a concert brings in all kinds,” Sharp said. “A magnet for runaways and anyone looking to make a fast buck.”

“The perfect hunting ground for a guy like the Shark.”

Riley parked in front of Duke’s brick two-story colonial located at the end of a quiet residential street. The house had been picked by Maria, and had never seemed to be a match for Duke with his tattooed body and long hair. A rebel in suburbia, she used to say to him.

She knocked on the screened door, and when Duke poked his head out of the kitchen, he waved her inside.

“Hey, kid,” he said.

The inside of the house was all Maria as well. Comfortable cushioned chairs, pillows on a plump couch, and soft pastels on the walls. The only hints of Duke were in a back room he called his cave. That’s where he kept his extra-large television, worn recliner, and computer.

Duke was clearing the dinner dishes from the table, stacking them on his arm like a practiced waiter. The moment actually felt normal.

“Where’s Jo-Jo?” Riley asked.

“The kid is upstairs now. She couldn’t eat much of her meal, but she tried.”

“That’s saying a lot after what she endured.”

“I think she’s got your strength. And if she does, she’ll find a way clear of the streets.”

So many kids didn’t make it or were so damaged by their experience that they spent the rest of their lives struggling. “I’m betting she’s a fighter.”

He carried the plates to the kitchen counter and scraped off the leftovers into the garbage disposal. “My money’s on her.”

“Have you told her that?”

“I did. I also told her there were times when I thought I’d end up in the void. I was so far gone in the gambling days that an hour couldn’t pass without me thinking about the next turn of the cards. And then Maria held me with her big doe eyes and my life turned on a dime.”

“You can be that person for Jo-Jo. That anchor. That rock. You did it for me.”

A smile tweaked the edge of his lips. “You did me proud.”

Emotion clogged her throat and for a moment she couldn’t speak.

As he turned from the sink, wiping his hands with a towel, his gaze locked on her. “What gives?”

“That kid, Cassie. The one I was looking for. Cooper and I found her dead near the old church on Route 602.”

“Damn.”

Uncharacteristic tears glistened in her eyes. “I saw the kid a few days ago.” She pinched her fingers to her eyes. “Duke, I think whoever killed Vicky and Cassie is sending me some kind of message.”

A frown deepened the lines in his face. “Who would do that to you?”

“This is going to sound crazy, but it goes back to New Orleans.”

“New Orleans?”

“You know what my life was like there.”

“Sure, you told me.”

“Something happened.”

“What?”

The words caught in her throat. “I don’t remember. But somehow I got away. I thought it was all behind me, but now I don’t think it is.” She glanced toward the stairs, thinking about the battered kid on the second floor.

“So you are starting to remember?”

“Bits and pieces.”

He laid his hand on her shoulder. “It breaks my heart to remember you when you first stumbled off that bus.”

Before she could respond, the house phone rang.

Swearing, Duke tossed the dish towel over his shoulder and answered it. “Duke Spence.”

Instantly his expression darkened.

“Jo-Jo?” he asked meeting Riley’s gaze. He motioned her forward and tipped the receiver so she could hear the caller’s voice. “Who’s asking for her?”

“A friend.”

She recognized the voice instantly. She mouthed the name
Jax
to Duke.

He gripped the phone tighter. “Jax, what rock did you crawl out from?”

“You think you are smart, don’t you, old man?”

“Smarter than your sorry ass.”

“Tell Jo-Jo that her old friend’s returning her call, and he hasn’t forgotten her.”

“You’re returning her call.”

Jax laughed. “That’s right, she called me. She loves me and she misses me.”

Duke mouthed an oath as he glanced toward the stairs. Then, in a lower voice so that Jo-Jo couldn’t hear him, he said, “You’re a piece of shit. And any piece of shit that comes near my house gets shot, no questions asked.”

“Woo-hoo! You scare me, old man.”

Riley had only seen Duke get mad once or twice in the last twelve years, but when he lost his temper, he transformed, and she saw hints of the man he’d been when he was gambling.

Jax laughed and hung up the phone, leaving Duke with the next move.

“I can’t believe she called him. She asked for the phone to call her friend Sandy.”

Riley muttered a curse. “Because at one time Jax was nice to her. He’s the devil she knows. Give her time.”

“If that bastard comes near my house, I’ll put him down in the front yard. Jo-Jo might have pulled off the dumb-ass move of the century, but I’m gonna keep her safe until she gets a little smarter.”

“That’s what you did for me,” Riley said. “Remember when my stepfather found me here? He offered to put me through college if I’d come home.” She could still picture William walking up to Duke’s restaurant as she’d been standing at the hostess desk rolling napkins around forks, spoons, and knives. “And I was scared enough at that point to go.” Terror and then relief clashed in a confused explosion.

“Jo-Jo might recover enough that she won’t want Jax’s help, but I’ll make damn sure she stays safe while she’s under my protection.”

When Riley’s front doorbell rang at nine, she reached for her gun. She rose from the sofa. After leaving Duke’s, she’d taken Cooper for a run in the neighborhood, showered, and changed into a pair of old cotton shorts and a T-shirt. “Who is it?”

“It’s Bowman.”

“Speak of the devil,” she muttered. She put the gun back in the side-table drawer by the couch and unlocked the door. He stood on her porch, wearing the suit pants he’d had on earlier. He’d taken off the jacket, rolled up the sleeves, and loosened the tie.

“Come on in,” she said. As he entered, she said, “Did you find out anything?”