Maximum Guilt (Hidden Guilt Book 2) Page 4

  “Well hello, Mr. Wilson. Let’s see how bad of a boy you really are,” Stacy mumbled, opening a chat window.

  Hi I’m Stacy wanna play tonight?

  Hey there cutie – what kinda trouble you lookin to get into 2night?

  Trouble? Are you a bad boy? You gonna spank me? I’ve been a really bad girl.

  Maybe, if that’s what you’d like . . .

  It is. You don’t have a girlfriend or anything do you? Don’t wanna get you in trouble with the Mrs.

  Nope, it’s just me, “Sam I am”

  Ohhh that’s cute! So am I coming over to your place? It’s been way too long for me, if you know what I mean.

  This was going to be easier than Stacy thought. Guys were so fucking stupid and pathetic. She checked on Karen. Milk all gone. Sound asleep. She locked Karen in and headed for 732 Moore Street.

  Stacy brought her own special cocktail for her victim. No sooner had she turned her car off then Sam Wilson appeared on the porch of his single-wide trailer. He was even more repulsive in person than she’d expected: unshaven, long unkempt hair, and a ratty flannel shirt that screamed 1980.

  She looked around to make sure no one was watching her arrival.

  “Hey, sugar, c’mon in,” Sam yelled from the porch.

  “Sugar?” Stacy mumbled under her breathe as she walked toward the trailer.

  “Whatcha got there, hun?” he asked with a nod at the bottle she was carrying.

  “Oh a little something to help us get the party started. You okay with that?”

  Stacy suddenly felt tingly all over. This was really happening. She stepped inside and immediately noticed he’d tried to pick up the pigsty he called home.

  Sam held the door open, and as Stacy walked through, he reached out and got in a little squeeze of her backside.

  “You like that, do you?”

  Sam’s eyes brightened. “Sure do, Miss Stacy. Why don’t you have a seat? Let me get us some glasses and we can get some of that drink goin’.”

  Sam took three steps over to his kitchen and tried to wipe out two cups as best he could without being too obvious.

  “Okay . . . well, I brought my own glass. I know, I know. I’m weird like that.”

  Stacy’s glass had a built-in drain, a double layer. The second layer slowly filled as the glass was tilted at least forty-five degrees, making it look like she was drinking the contents. She would pretend to sip hers and watch as Sam drank himself to sleep.

  Sam guzzled his first drink, set the empty glass down, and tried to ease a little closer to Stacy on the couch.

  Sam stroked the side of Stacy’s face. “Easy, tiger. We can take this slow, right? I’m not in a rush. We got all night,” Stacy said, sliding away from Sam. “Why don’t we have another drink?”

  “Okay,” Sam said. Stacy could tell by the perturbed look on his face that he wanted to get this thing started right away.

  “Whatcha got there, anyways?” Sam asked, trying to slip a sneaky hand onto Stacy’s thigh.

  “Oh, just a little mix I make.” Stacy allowed Sam to keep his hand on her thigh. She didn’t need him getting too riled up before the sedative kicked in.

  “Well, I like it, and I like you. You’re even hotter in person than your profile pic. I can’t wait to . . .”

  Sam set down his drink and placed both hands on Stacy’s legs.

  “My, my, my,” Sam said, admiring Stacy’s breasts as they threatened to spill from her extremely low-cut blouse.

  Stacy noticed a hint of aggression starting to set in. He probably hadn’t been laid in ages. She knew she needed to buy some time.

  She stood up and waltzed in front of Sam. “You mind if I put on a little show? Do you have any music?”

  “Why sure! I got a radio,” Sam said with a twinkle in his eyes. “You some kind of stripper or something, Miss Stacy?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She poured him another glass. “Drink this and turn some music on for a girl.”

  Sam got up and started looking around for his radio. He seemed to be having trouble with his balance.

  Stacy walked over and reached out to steady him. “You lost, sweetie?” she said, laughing.

  “No, I have a radio in here somewhere. I promise.” Sam chuckled but quickly put a hand to his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

  Stacy knew the drugs were working. She watched Sam stagger around. His words were slurred and he seemed disoriented.

  “You okay, tiger?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. That drink is pretty strong. Whatcha got in there? I can usually out drink anyone. You didn’t roofie me, now did ya?”

  “You gonna let a little girl like me drink you under the table?”

  “Hell no! Gimme another one!” Sam insisted.

  She filled up his glass and watched him slam down another one. She knew it wouldn’t be long now.

  “I’m getting dizzy. Whaddya put in that drink, you bitch?” Sam said as he slid to the floor.

  “Aww, you don’t have to be so cruel, Sam. I only wanted to make sure we had a good time.” She eased closer to Sam, who could barely hold his eyes open. She unbuttoned his shirt and started to rub on his chest.

  She reared back and slapped him hard on the cheek.

  “Sam, Sam, Sam. You messed up this time. You really messed up, you piece of shit.”

  And just like that he was out. Stacy had watched Sam take something out of one of the cabinets and hide it under a towel as he searched for glasses earlier. She stepped over to the kitchen and lifted the towel: handcuffs and duct tape. If things had gone Sam’s way, she would have been raped or worse, just as she’d suspected.

  “You’re a real bad boy, aren’t you, Sam,” Stacy said, kneeling over Sam’s motionless body. “Just what were you planning to do with these?” She dangled the cuffs in the air above his head.

  Stacy grabbed her bag and took out her medical supplies. She had work to do.

  Chapter 6

  I heard noise downstairs. Miranda must be stirring around. I never thought I’d be saying those words again. I decided to check on her. It all still felt surreal. Miranda was home!

  As I got to the bottom of the staircase, I found her up and at ’em.

  “You’re supposed to be resting, dear.”

  “I know, but I’ve gotta move around some. I’ve kinda been stuck in one place for a long time now,” she said, grinning.

  I didn’t think her joke was too funny, but I understood where she was coming from. At least she still had her sense of humor.

  “You or the boys got any leads on my Karen?” The conversation suddenly got intense.

  “Nothing solid. Stacy/Lisa is from Louisiana. I did some digging into her past. Really troubled girl. You remember my old buddy Lafitte? Well, I put a call into him. He’s doing some digging, too. I’ve profiled enough of these sickos. Trust me, she won’t stay in the shadows for long. She can’t; she needs the spotlight, craves the attention. It’s a cat and mouse game, and right now I’m the mouse.”

  “Well, you found me. I know you’ll find Karen, too.” I sat down on the couch next to my wife and hugged her tight. After a few moments, I pulled away a bit and stared into her eyes.

  “I love you, Miranda Porter.”

  “I love you too, David, so very much.”

  “Dad, your phone is ringing,” Hillary yelled from the staircase.

  “Toss it here,” I said.

  She did so in record time. I looked down at the phone. Lafitte.

  “Hey, buddy, tell me some good news,” I said, excited by the prospect of a break in the case.

  “Well, Porter, not great news but not bad either. Looks like your friend killed an ol’ boy in Sulphur just last night.”

  “What makes you think it was Crease?”

  “She left a note for you. Sam Wilson’s the guy’s name. I’m headed to Sulphur now to see what I can find out.”

  “What does the note say and why Sam Wilson?”

  “I’m looking
into it. I know they’re checking his computer now. His last contact was some hookup site last night. Guess who he was chatting with? Miss Stacy is the profile name.”

  “So, she’s leading me in. Taunting me. But why Sam Wilson? Wrong place, wrong time?”

  “We’ll know more in a few hours. She cut the shit outta this guy. Real precise, too. No mess at all. Like she knew what she was doing. Did you know this girl was valedictorian and has SAT scores on record that are top two percent ever?”

  “Yeah, I know. She’s intelligent, disturbed, and emotionally scarred. Bad, bad combination. Hurt people hurt other people. You know that.”

  “We’re going to do everything we can to catch this girl and get your daughter back, David.”

  “I know. I should be there in a few hours myself.”

  I ended the call. Lafitte sounded so sure of himself. But he didn’t know Stacy like I did. I knew it would be anything but easy. It looked like a road trip to Louisiana was in my near future.

  “Bad news?”

  “Not great news, Miranda, but Karen’s okay as far as we can tell. Stacy killed a guy in Sulphur. Left me a note so we know it’s her.”

  Miranda broke down. I knew she had to be an emotional wreck inside after her own ordeal and now Karen’s. I’d expected a meltdown much sooner. I hugged my wife and whispered in her ear that I would make everything right.

  I went upstairs. I needed to talk to Hilary. While I was away, she’d need to take care of her mother hand and foot.

  My talk with Hilary went better than expected, and she agreed to watch after her mother.

  I hated leaving Miranda. I’d just gotten her back, and I was leaving her side again.

  “Stop looking at me like that, David. I know you have to leave, and yes, you have to go. Please bring my baby back home. I’ll be okay, and I’ll be right here when the two of you get back!”

  Chapter 7

  Keeping Wilcrest informed as I worked on cases was something I needed to improve. I loved him dearly, like a father. He trusted me, and that gave me a lot more rope than the other detectives had. It didn’t go unnoticed around the station.

  Last year, Detective Salvez and I’d had it out pretty bad, and that issue alone was the root cause. Guess he’d seen and heard enough, so he made his displeasure known loudly enough for me and the entire tenth floor to hear. Then the guy even had the nerve to confront me about it after Wilcrest basically told him to grow a pair and get lost.

  In the end, Wilcrest did end up being forced to talk it out with the chief, but it was a brief conversation. Arrest records and number of cases solved speak for themselves. Even so, in order to help him save face with the other detectives, I was trying harder to check in more frequently and provide more details on my activities as well. At times the station could be a bit middle-schoolish, but I assumed most workplaces operate in much the same fashion.

  I took out my cell phone and dialed him up while I had a few moments to spare.

  “Cap. I’m on the road right now. Headed for Louisiana. Sulphur. Stacy killed a guy there last night.”

  “Jesus Christ! Let me guess; she left you a note?”

  “Yes. I have a good friend, Detective Lafitte, who lives in New Orleans. He’s headed there now. He agreed to help me with the investigation. I’m going to hunt her down if it’s the last thing I do. I gotta find Karen and bring her home.”

  “Keep me posted, and find your little girl. If you can’t, no one can. Now get off the phone and solve this case. That’s an order!”

  “That is definitely the plan,” I said before disconnecting.

  Houston to Sulphur was only a two-hour drive down I-10. Gave me a chance to make a few calls. I wanted to hit the ground running when I arrived on the crime scene. I was already about eighteen hours behind her now.

  I started with Detective De Luca. She hadn’t been in captivity as long as Miranda, but she’d have some healing to do nonetheless.

  “Hey, De Luca. It’s me—David. How are you?”

  “I’m okay. Pissed that I allowed myself to get ’napped, but other than that I’m okay. How’s Miranda?”

  “She’s okay, just tired. She’s at home resting.”

  “Where are you? Sounds like you’re driving.”

  “I’m headed for Sulphur, Louisiana. Stacy struck again there last night.”

  “Okay. How long before you get here to pick me up? And what do you mean struck again? What did the bitch do now?”

  “Excuse me? Pick you up? I’m riding solo on this one.”

  “Yeah, pick me up. I’m going with you.”

  “Like hell. You need to rest. I know you’re tough, but you need to recover—mentally and physically.”

  “Listen, that bitch . . . she can’t get away with this. I’m coming with you. Come pick me up.”

  I knew arguing with her any longer really made no sense. She had her mind made up. If I didn’t pick up her stubborn behind, she’d drive herself to Sulphur anyway.

  “Call Cap. Get it cleared with medical and call me back. I’m about thirty minutes from your place, so hurry.”

  De Luca and I both had a personal connection to this case, and neither of us should have been on it. I knew that. I’m sure Wilcrest knew he wouldn’t be able to talk either of us out of it. De Luca came to our department with the highest recommendations. I was certain she would be a valuable addition to the case.

  Within minutes, she called me back with the approval from Wilcrest. If I had to guess, she’d used the same speech she’d given me. I’d known that’d be the case, and I was already heading her way.

  I pulled up to De Luca’s house. She was already sitting on the porch, bag packed, awaiting my arrival.

  “You sure you got this cleared with Cap?” I said as I rolled down the window. The look on her face told me everything I needed to know. De Luca wore a baseball cap, T-shirt and jeans, and had her hair pulled back. No makeup.

  “So, what, you trade in your pumps for tennis shoes? You know how to walk in those things?”

  “Porter, you are two seconds away from the ass-whooping I have reserved for Stacy.”

  We both grinned. She threw her bags into the back seat, shut the door, and we were off.

  I filled her in on what I knew about Sam Wilson.

  “Well, other than to check on you, the reason I called was so you could get a start on Sam Wilson. We need to find out everything we can. I’m betting something he did in his past is why he’s dead. We figure that out and maybe it will tell us where Stacy’s headed next. Or at least what the hell she’s up to.”

  “So what do we have? What do we know about Stacy? She killed young girls because you have two of them. She wanted to scare you. I’m willing to bet your boy Sam is a sex offender,” De Luca said as she rapped the window with her fingers.

  “Maybe. That’s good thinking. Call Fingers. Give him Wilson’s social, and let’s see what we can find out.”

  Sometimes I felt like I shouldn’t being using Fingers as much as I did. I was torn. He had done some pretty bad things, all hacker-type shit, but he was a criminal nonetheless. Police officers all had informants, and to me that’s just what he was. Others on the force may have disagreed, but I wasn’t exactly broadcasting my use of him either. Besides, we had our own data analysts who were good, but Fingers was a tad better.

  “See? You need me, David. I haven’t heard the full story, but I know she accuses you of being part of some hazing back in college. So you going to fill me in?” De Luca asked.

  “Something like that. Yeah, I’ll break it down for you later. We’ll see about you being right on Wilson, too. Make the call.”

  Bad news always spreads faster than good news. Some things never change. I didn’t mind De Luca tagging along at this point. I really didn’t care where the help came from. I had the same sneaking suspicion she did regarding Sam Wilson. After all, Stacy wasn’t exactly killing priests.

  Chapter 8

  “What did you find out about
our vic?” I said when Fingers called me back.

  De Luca tugged at my arm, trying to get me to put the call on speakerphone.

  “Hey, David. Well, your guy Sam was a sex offender. He’d done some time for a DUI, too. Multiple rape cases. A few he did some short time for; a few he pleaded out. Looks like he worked as a fisherman most his life. Graduated from high school in ’91, no siblings. There’s more, but I’m not really sure what you’re looking for.”

  “Told you!” De Luca said.

  De Luca had been right; our guy was indeed a sex offender.

  “What? Who’s that?” Fingers said.

  I shook my head. “She’s with me. Don’t worry. Thanks Fingers. You told me exactly what I needed to hear.”

  “What the hell did I tell you, tough guy?” De Luca said as I disconnected from Fingers. “So she’s targeting sex offenders. Probably feels like she’s doing the world a favor. Hell, if I wasn’t a cop, I’d probably do the same thing. Or something Catwoman-like, ya know?”

  I laughed. “No, I don’t know exactly. So, cop or vigilante—those were you two options, eh?”

  “Better than joining my family in the mob, right?”

  “Too soon to tell if she’s targeting anyone, but I doubt this was random. And yeah, I guess Catwoman would be better than mobbing since we’re dealing in hypotheticals.”

  “You going to tell me what you did to piss this girl off?”

  There was a long silence between us. I didn’t like sharing the story. Most people would hear it and understand why I made the choice I did. Others, including some on the force, would demonize. I wasn’t sure which side of the fence De Luca would be on.

  I frowned. “I wasn’t always a detective. There was a time when I was a stupid eighteen-year-old kid who didn’t know his head from his ass.”

  “Yeah, we all had lives prior to joining the force. Just spit it out already.”

  I told her everything—every ugly detail. After I finished, De Luca just sat there with a blank look on her face. I wasn’t sure how to read her reaction.