Maximum Guilt (Hidden Guilt Book 2) Page 3

  I’d made a good friend in the military that happened to be from New Orleans and was now a detective on the force there.

  I pulled out my phone and thumbed for his number.

  “Paul Lafitte? David Porter here.”

  “Hey, my friend! Long time. How the hell are you, David?” I could hear the surprise in his voice.

  “Long time indeed. I wish this call was to catch up on old times, but it’s not so I’ll get right to the point. My youngest daughter, Karen, is in trouble. She’s been kidnapped, Paul.”

  “David . . . man. I . . . when did this happen?”

  “It’s a long story; I’ll fill you in later. I know who did it. Girl named Lisa Crease. Goes by Stacy Demornay now. There’s a bit of history there, too. I’ll have to fill you in later on that as well. Look, I know Crease is from New Orleans, so I’m thinking maybe that’s where she’ll run to hide. Easy to get lost in those bayous.”

  Lafitte had already logged into his laptop and was waiting for it to load. “I’ll pull up everything I can on her, see if I can find an LKA, too. Maybe she’ll go back there. It’s a longshot, but crazier things have happened. Hey, I got her file up right here. Hang on a second. Yeah, I remember when her uncle’s house burned down. You know, some of the boys didn’t think that was an accident, but we didn’t find a darn thing to suggest otherwise.”

  “I believe their hunch was right. In fact, I might even have dug up what would be an excellent motive. Listen, keep your eyes open and put out a soft search for Crease. If she’s back or headed that direction, I don’t want to spook her. Lord knows what she’ll do to Karen if she thinks I’m close. I’ll be in New Orleans in a few days, Paul. Thank you, my friend.”

  I disconnected and kept my fingers crossed that something would turn up and fast. It felt good to talk to my old friend. I’d become so busy—obsessed, almost—with my job that I hadn’t done a good job of staying connected with my friends. Given the nature of my work and how quickly it could all be over, I promised myself I would do better.

  Chapter 4

  I walked over to the couch and tucked Miranda in then I headed for Heartbreakers to get started on the Widowmaker case while I waited on Lafitte to call me back.

  It was only a short drive, but Sports Radio 610 was broadcasting the Texans game, and I found myself listening for a minute. I hated the way my football career had ended and still dearly missed playing.

  I found a spot close to the entrance and parked my truck. Oddly enough, a giant J. J. Watt billboard lined the side of an eighteen wheeler parked nearby. More football memories. Go figure. As I headed for the front door, two guys came out. They gave me a strange look as we approached each other. I didn’t recognize either of the men, but both of them looked like trouble. The taller man stood about six foot five and was built like he’d spent his last fifteen years at the Darrington Unit in Rosharon. I’d put enough guys like that away to recognize the prison tats, too.

  As we passed each other, the one closest to me gave me a hard bump. I could tell it wasn’t an accident.

  “Excuse me,” I said, making sure to give him a hard stare.

  “You’re excused, cop,” the man replied. They both laughed.

  I didn’t have time to play games with these two in the parking lot, so I kept moving. What the hell was that all about?

  When I got inside, there was a kid behind the counter; I didn’t waste any time.

  “Hey, everything okay out there? Those are two of my regulars,” he said with a serious look on his face.

  I wanted to laugh. This kid really thought he was some kind of tough guy.

  He held out his hand for my money. “And it’ll be ten dollars. You’re not gonna have a problem here, now are you, sir?”

  I was fed up with his bravado and his rhetoric. I really didn’t have time for his games, either.

  “Listen,” I said, flipping out my ID. “I’m not some perv here to gawk at tits and ass. I’m here on official police business. You got it, J.R.?”

  He backed up a half step. “Yes, sir. I didn’t know. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry; just don’t be a dick. I have a few questions I need you to answer. Number one, did you work the front desk last night?”

  The kid stopped making eye contact with me and was kicking at something on the floor. Clearly I had already rattled his cage.

  “Did you or did you not work the front desk last night?”

  “I did,” he said, still looking at the ground.

  “John Blake—was he here?”

  “I’m not sure I know him. Do you have a picture?”

  This kid was good. Too smart for his own damn good, though.

  “Listen, I’ve got way too much pent-up anger right now for you to be fucking with me.”

  He looked up slowly. The smart-ass grin had been replaced by a nervous smirk.

  He folded his arms. “Listen, sir. I don’t know nothing.”

  “Actually, I’m willing to bet you know a lot. But it seems like you’d be more comfortable talking about it at the station. Oftentimes people’s memories clear up a lot better there,” I said as I reached for my cuffs.

  “Am I under arrest or something? What’d I do?”

  “This is a murder investigation. I believe you’re withholding evidence. It’s called obstruction of justice.”

  He took a step back from the counter and began chewing at his fingernails.

  “Listen, Blake was here last night. Went to the back like he usually does, probably upstairs after that. I don’t know much else, I swear.”

  “He have a regular here he came to see? What’s her name?”

  “I don’t know who he saw, honestly. He did have a few he liked more than others, but I don’t know who was working last night.”

  “I need a list of all the girls Blake sat with on a regular basis—his favorites. And I also need a list of all the girls who worked last night and when they left the club.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be able to get that for you, sir.”

  “Fair enough. Get me someone who can.”

  He walked inside the club. I thought about staying in the lobby, but I didn’t want them to conjure up a story for me. I decided to follow him.

  As I stepped inside, I spied a tall, slender girl dancing topless on the front stage. Five men lined the stage, holding what I guessed to be one dollar bills in their hands. All probably fifty or older. Pathetic, I thought to myself. I didn’t want to rattle everyone by giving them the cop vibe, so I just pretended to be an interested patron.

  A minute later, the guy from the lobby was at my side. “That’s the manager over there. His name is Steve.”

  “Thanks for your help with this.”

  I watched the kid go back through the double doors to the front. I figured I’d walk over to Steve and pretend to be holding a conversation about the dancer. Again, trying not to let anyone in on who I really was or why I was there.

  “Steve, Detective David Porter HPD.”

  I’d extended my hand for a friendly shake, and Steve slowly reached out to take it.

  “Calm down. This isn’t a shakedown. Just trying to gather some information. I know John Blake was here last night. He’s dead now. He was last seen entering a hotel room around nine p.m.”

  Steve folded his arms, a look of disgust on his face. “What does any of this have to do with me and my club?”

  “I think you know exactly what it has to do with you, Steve.”

  We gave each other a once-over and stared in silence.

  “You think one of my girls was involved? You accusing one of my girls of murder?”

  “Steve, I’ll say it one more time: calm down. Again, I’m simply trying to gather some information. I need two things from you, and I’ll be out of your hair. I know you keep a log of when girls come and go each shift. It determines how much their buy-in and payouts are each day. So I need a list of the girls who came in last night—when they arrived and when they paid out. I need time
s.”

  “You’re asking for an awful lot, considering this isn’t a shakedown. You got a warrant?”

  “Now I know why your guy at the desk was such a dick. Must have to be one to work here. I can get a warrant, Steve. As a matter of fact, I can call and get one over the phone and never have to leave. The minute I yell police, everyone’s gonna dart the hell out of here. Just need the list—oh, and thing number two. I need to know who his regulars were.”

  “I can get you the list, but I’m not giving out names of girls he liked.”

  “So let me get this straight. A regular at your club was found murdered in cold blood. One of the last places he was seen alive was your club, and video at the motel shows him going in with a woman. If your girls are innocent, then you’ve got nothing to be afraid of. If you force me to make a scene, you’re going to have more problems on your hands than you want to deal with.”

  Steve took a step into my space. “That a threat, cop?”

  I stepped toward Steve and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Yes, that’s exactly what it is, Steve. You’re a lot smarter than you look. I was beginning to wonder.”

  He and I both knew such posturing was going to get him nowhere fast. If the place was crawling with cops, it’d put a serious dent in his business the next few weeks.

  “Give me what I asked for, and I’ll be out of your hair. And I’m kind of in a hurry, so could we get a move on it please?”

  He placed a call on his walkie-talkie, and a bouncer-type guy with a shirt two sizes too small appeared a few minutes later with my list in hand.

  “Good job, Steve. That’s part one. Now look at this list, and put a star beside the girl who sat with John most often when he came in.”

  He took the list from me, scanned it, and handed it back.

  “None of those girls are his regulars. Well . . .”

  “Well what? Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

  “Seems like he was starting too really like one of them. Barbie.”

  I looked over the list. Barbie Foy.

  “Looks like she left around eight thirty last night. That common?”

  “Girls come and go all the time but no, not common.”

  “You see the two of them together last night? You have any more information on Barbie? Driver’s license? Address?”

  “No. Don’t take much to get a job as a stripper, detective. Couple of dance moves, some nice tits is usually more than enough. We pay them in cash each night. I don’t ask any more about them than I need to know.”

  Sadly, I believed what Steve was telling me. Didn’t help my investigation, though.

  “What about surveillance cameras in and out?”

  “We respect people’s privacy, so we don’t record the doors or any of the common areas.”

  “Got a real name on this Barbie?”

  “Like I said, I know as little as I need to know. Most of the girls’ stripper names start with the same letter as their real name. Maybe it’s Barbara, Beth, Brittany, and Briann? Shit, I don’t know; I really don’t.”

  I stepped back for a minute and took a long, hard look at Steve, trying to determine if he was being honest or blowing smoke up my ass.

  “I think this is enough for now. If I think of any more questions, I’ll be back.”

  “Ok man I believe the girls name is Brittany – but that’s all I know I swear.”

  I gave him a once over, nodded in acceptance of his information and turned to leave.

  I walked away feeling pretty good about the information I was able to get. Maybe I’d be able to use this intel and get a step closer to catching this girl.

  Chapter 5

  Everything was moving too quickly. What a fucking nightmare! Stacy had a carefully crafted plan for finishing off David and his family, but this wasn’t it. She wanted to kill them all, one by one. She wanted him to watch them all die horrible deaths. She wanted him to bear the pain of knowing it was his fault and he couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it. Now, because of his meddling daughter, those plans—plans that were years in the making—were no longer in play.

  Karen and Stacy were traveling on I-10 toward Louisiana. They hadn’t spoken much since leaving the hospital in a mad dash. Stacy knew sooner or later she’d have no choice but to break the silence and somehow convince Karen that everything was going to be okay.

  “Karen, honey, are you hungry? We can stop and grab something.”

  Karen turned and beamed at Stacy. “Where’s my daddy? Why did we leave? I want my daddy.”

  Stacy was hoping to buy a little time to come up with a good story since all of this had gone down so quickly. Karen was only six but not too much got by her.

  “Karen, honey . . . I have some bad news to tell you. You’re going to have to try to be a big girl.”

  Stacy pulled the car off the road and turned into a gas station.

  “Listen, I have to get gas, and we have to get going again pretty quickly. This is going to be really hard for you to hear. Your dad told me shortly after your mother died that he really didn’t want kids anymore. He actually said he no longer wanted to . . . well . . . even be alive. He really loved your mother and missed her so much that his heart was broken. Then I got pregnant, and he was really unhappy because he didn’t want another kid to take care of. I didn’t think I could take care of you, Hilary, and the baby, so I had to leave Hilary behind. That’s why I grabbed you and we left. I hope she’ll be okay alone with him. Are you okay? I know it’s a lot to handle. I’ll tell you a little secret; my daddy didn’t want me either. He left me and my mother when I was about your age. I turned out pretty okay, don’t you think?”

  Karen turned away from Stacy and stared out the window. Her eyes began to water, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Daddy wouldn’t say a thing like that . . . would he?” Karen said, still staring out of the window.

  “I’m so sorry, Karen.” Stacy moved closer to the girl and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “I tried everything I could to change his mind. That’s why he offered to let you stay with your grandparents. It wasn’t because you were sick. He wanted to get rid of you for a little while. Why do you think I offered to move in? It was so I could help. Don’t be angry at him, Karen. Losing your mother was hard on him.”

  “It was hard on all of us! I am mad at him. I can’t believe my daddy doesn’t want me anymore. I don’t believe you!”

  The two sat in silence for a minute as Stacy gathered her thoughts.

  “Honey, I know it’s going to take some time, but it’s the truth. It’s okay that you’re upset. If it helps, you can even be mad at me. There’s good news, too; you still have me, and I’ll do everything I can to be a good mommy to you.”

  Stacy climbed out and filled up with gas tank. She didn’t expect anything less from Karen. She’d have to keep a close eye on her, at least for a few days.

  Two and a half hours later, they crossed the Louisiana border and headed into Sulphur. Stacy drove slowly, looking for the perfect motel to crash in for the night, somewhere she could get in and out of in a hurry and without being seen. She had work to do.

  At the gas station in Texas, she’d glanced over the front page of the Houston Chronicle and knew part two of her plan was a go. Detectives were hot on the trail of what they believed to be a female killer. Someone had drugged and murdered a local politician who had been known to frequent strip clubs in the area.

  “She did it,” Stacy muttered. “Good for her! She fucking did it.”

  Stacy found a motel that appeared to suit her needs and quickly pulled in. She turned the car off and grabbed the keys.

  “Wait here, honey. I’m gonna go inside and get us a room.”

  She made sure to lock Karen in as she left the car. A few minutes later she was back, motel key in hand.

  “Why do we have to sleep in a motel room? I want to go home. I want to sleep in my bed.”

  “Well, Karen, we
’re headed to my Grammy’s house, but we need to rest. It’s been a long day. We’ve been driving quite a while. Aren’t you tired?” Stacy said as she leaned in nose to nose with Karen.

  “A little, I guess.”

  “There’s that beautiful smile of yours. Here’s some milk for you and a pack of your favorite cookies.”

  Stacy made sure to spike Karen’s drink with enough sedative to make her sleep clear through the night. As Karen enjoyed her late-night snack, Stacy scoured the net for her next victim. She needed to leave a trail for David, let him know where she was but not let him get too close until she could lure him into her trap.

  “C’mon! I know a little town like this is full of freaking perverts,” Stacy said as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

  And after only a few clicks, she opened the list of local sex offenders. Next she would spend a few minutes researching each of them. She wanted a sure thing. No time to foul this up.

  Karen stretched and rubbed her eyes. “Stacy, I’m getting sleepy.”

  “Aww. Okay, sweetie. Why don’t we turn the TV off and let you get some rest? Everything is going to be okay, dear,” Stacy said tucking the blanket in tight around Karen. “I’ve got you and you’ve got me. Always, kiddo.”

  Karen smiled and drifted off to sleep.

  Stacy created a profile on a hookup website and was hoping to get a quick hit. If she got lucky, one of the names would be a match for someone on the sex offender list. An hour in, she was starting to believe it might take longer than she’d planned. She’d gotten several hits, but none were on her list. And then . . . voilà! Sam Wilson.