Maximum Guilt (Hidden Guilt Book 2) Page 5

  “So basically Stacy thinks you’re a monster who set her up to be gangbanged by the entire football team?”

  “Pretty much. But we were both fooled. The upperclassmen used us so they could get a lay. I wish eighteen-year-old me would have had the balls to stand up to them. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. Sounds like a pretty stupid hazing gone wrong. Ain’t the first, won’t be the last. Most eighteen-year-olds in your position would have done exactly what you did—stand there and watch, even if it was cowardly.”

  “Well thank you, Detective Big Balls, but it doesn’t really help any of us right now.”

  “I do have one question though: if all of this was as innocent on your part as you make it seem, why didn’t you just come clean with her?”

  “Two reasons. One, the school lawyered us up and told us not to talk to anyone about it. Secondly, she left school. Guess she didn’t want to deal with it. I did look for her—half-assed looked, anyway.”

  With that out of the way, we could move on. I knew she had to ask, had to know, and I was okay with that. I was glad to get it off my chest.

  Chapter 9

  We knew Stacy was targeting sex offenders, but there were literally thousands in Louisiana. Same for most other states, for that matter. If I planned on catching her, I’d need more information, maybe a pattern of some sort. If she was smart I wouldn’t get one.

  De Luca and I weren’t far from Sulphur now, only about thirty minutes out. Mentally I was already hitting fatigue, and I knew we were just getting started. The thought of her having Karen and knowing what she’d done to those other kids sent shivers down my spine. My entire career I’d done things as by-the-book as possible. At least I’d tried. There were a few times when I’d allowed my temper to get the best of me, but like a fine wine, I’d gotten better with age.

  “So how do we get in front of her? What made her pick this guy out? Place like this, he couldn’t have been the only perv she found,” De Luca said.

  “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Sadly, she might have to do this a few more times before we find a pattern . . . if one even exists.”

  I saw our turn up ahead. We pulled into the trailer park and stopped as close to Sam Wilson’s gravel driveway as we could get. Only a few forensic folks remained. I’d asked Lafitte to have the team leave the body until I arrived. Lookie loos lined the street, all trying to catch a peek.

  I turned my truck off and we climbed out. Someone needed to take control of this crime scene. There were way too many people way too close.

  “Hey!” A middle-aged woman wearing a holey T-shirt, minus a bra, approached the taped-off area.

  I turned slowly to give her my full attention. I could already tell where this was going, and I didn’t like it.

  “Yes ma’am, can I help you?”

  She twirled her hair in her hand. “You a popo, huh?”

  “If by popo you mean a police officer, then yes, I am.”

  “I never trusted that guy. I told my husband he was a piece of shit. Turns out I was right.”

  “Is there something he did to make you feel that way, ma’am?”

  “Nope. Just a woman’s intuition and the way he looked at me. So was he a rapist? That’s what everybody’s sayin’.”

  “I really can’t comment on that, ma’am. Did you see or hear anything last night?”

  “Nope.”

  I reached into my pocket. “Okay, well here’s my card. If you think of anything please give me a call. Sometimes people remember things when they stop thinking about it.”

  We definitely weren’t in Kansas anymore, and these people were not Texans. It always amazed me that traveling a few hours in any direction from Houston could yield such differences in people. I doubted leaving her my card would do any good, but you never know. I wanted to end this thing with Stacy as quickly as possible.

  As I walked closer to the trailer, my old buddy Lafitte appeared in the doorway.

  Paul was almost my height, maybe an inch shorter, six two or something. It looked like he weighed around the same as he had when we were in the service together. It was also clear he was still spending a lot of time in the gym. Paul and I developed a forever friendship in the military that was as solid as any I had in my life. I’d die for Paul, and I was sure he felt the same way about me.

  “David! You made it.”

  We exchanged a man hug—you know . . . the quick, back-thumping kind. It was great to see my old friend.

  “Hey man! It’s good to see you! I wish it could be on better terms, but . . .”

  Lafitte quickly turned his attention away from me and onto De Luca. “Who’s this beautiful lady you brought with you?”

  Lafitte had always been a charmer. If there was a woman around, you’d better hide her or he’d sniff her out. Somehow he’d managed to sleep with three-fourths of the brass in our platoon back in our Army days.

  “This is Detective Elena De Luca. She’s the newest detective on our force.”

  “Well now, aren’t you just beautiful,” Lafitte said as he checked De Luca out.

  De Luca reached out for a handshake, but Lafitte raised her fingers to his lips instead.

  “Nice to meet you, Detective Lafitte. I should let you know that I don’t date cops. But I am flattered.”

  She gave him her standard line, but I noticed the huge grin she could barely contain. Something about Paul had undoubtedly caught her attention. No big surprise there.

  “I typically don’t date cops either, so I guess I’ll have to turn in my badge today. Give me a second; let me call my chief.”

  He was half joking and half serious, I’m sure. De Luca laughed.

  “So, I had my guys look into the account Stacy/Lisa created yesterday. What are we going to call her, anyway? We also asked around and found the motel she was staying in. We checked the security cameras. Come take a look. I had the video emailed over to me.”

  The video showed Stacy and Karen arriving and entering a room. It then showed Stacy leaving alone at around eight p.m. She wouldn’t chance Karen waking while she was gone, so she’d probably drugged her. Then there’s footage of her returning a few hours later, undoubtedly after she’d killed Sam Wilson.

  “So she kills Wilson, comes back to the room, cleans up, catches a few hours’ sleep, and at 4 a.m. she’s gone again?”

  “Question is, where’s she headed next?” De Luca said.

  “Anything turn up here that could help us narrow down where she’s headed, Lafitte? Any other cameras in that parking lot? Can we tell what she’s driving?”

  “Not really. I mean, she ain’t trying to hide much.”

  “What about the drink? What’s she using to drug people? We able to tell that from the vic?”

  “We’ll find that out,” Lafitte said.

  “I have a sick feeling we’ll hear from her again, sooner rather than later.”

  “Hey, here’s the note she left you,” Lafitte said as he handed me the scrap of paper.

  Be sure this gets to Detective Porter 713.555.1357

  David,

  You screwed me so now I’m screwing you. You may get bruised a little you won’t like it.

  Love Stacy

  “I’m going to call the office manager at the motel. I have a few questions I’d like to ask him. Did you happen to get his number, Paul?”

  Lafitte handed me the office manager’s card: Binoy Ansari. Okay, Mr. Ansari, let’s see how good your memory and attention to detail is.

  I made the call and introduced myself.

  “This is Binoy. Am I in some kind of trouble?”

  “No, sir. I’m investigating a guest who stayed at your motel last night.”

  “Ahh . . . the cute chick with the kid? Somebody want to tell me why she’s being investigated?”

  “Binoy, listen closely. That cute chick is wanted for murder. Not one, but multiple. She’s dangerous, and we need to get her off the streets before she
hurts someone else. That’s why I need your help.”

  “Wow! I had no idea. How can I possibly help?”

  “Are there other cameras that could have recorded her last night, other than the one you showed the detectives earlier today?”

  “No, that’s the only one.”

  “Is there anything you can think of that might help me, Binoy? Even the smallest detail might lead us in the right direction.”

  “Not really. She was in and out really fast. Looking back, it was kind of odd how quickly she pushed me to get her checked in. And she was on a call with her sister, so I didn’t try to strike up a conversation.”

  “Wait, her sister? How do you know she was talking to her sister?”

  “I heard her say ‘listen little sister,’ like she was giving advice or scolding her or something. But again she was in and out quickly, and I only heard one side of the conversation.”

  “Thanks for your time, Binoy. I’ll be in touch.”

  I always tried to get at least one piece of intel from every witness or person I talked to when I was investigating a case. My call to Binoy had paid off. Stacy, as it appeared, had a sister. Or someone she referred to as “little sister.” On top of that, they were in direct contact with each other. Maybe finding this sister would be easy enough, and she could tell us where Stacy was headed.

  Chapter 10

  Stacy felt really good about her work from the night before. That bastard deserved to die. Actually, torturing him would have been even better, but she didn’t have time for that. And it was all over the news, just like she’d wanted. Brilliant! She’d been certain the anonymous call from a screaming woman would get cops right over.

  “Where are we going, Stacy? I want my daddy.”

  “I told you. Karen. We’re going to spend some time with my Grammy in New Orleans. She’s going to love you, and you’re going to love her. She’s special. I need you to forget about your dad for now.”

  Karen stared at Stacy without saying a word.

  “We’re going to get another room tonight, Karen. I don’t drive well at night, and I’m kinda sleepy.”

  “It’s okay. I like sleeping in motels.”

  “Well, good.”

  Stacy had gotten off the main interstate; she didn’t want a room right off I-10. When she pulled up to the motel, she got out and locked Karen in again.

  Stacy didn’t care to exchange pleasantries; she wanted to get the key and be off to her room. With that mission accomplished, she plugged in her laptop and started her search for a new target.

  “Stacy, can you lay with me tonight for a little bit?”

  “Sure, dear. How’s that milk?”

  “It’s great! Nice and warm, just how I like it.”

  “Glad to see you smile, Karen.”

  Within minutes the girl was out. Time to see how many potentials she had. The girl’s picture she was using wasn’t attractive at all, but using her own photo was no longer an option, as the cops would surely be trying to catfish her.

  To her pleasure and surprise, she had a hit in less than twenty minutes, and he checked out.

  “Let’s see here, Jon Rogers. What did they bust you for?” she muttered. “Three counts of sexual misconduct with a minor. And you’re a teacher, at that. Time to pay the piper, Mr. Rogers.”

  Hey there big boy . . .

  Hello

  You got any pics to share? I wanna see who’s gonna turn me on tonight.

  I might have one . . . what makes you think I’m gonna do anything to you tonight?

  Open the pic I just sent of me shaving last night.

  (30 second pause)

  Hey you still there Jon? Don’t start early over there!

  Yeah wow! I’m here. I’ll send a pic right away! I’ll send you my address too unless you want me to come to your house.

  No, I’ll come to yours . . . let you take me in your bed, tiger.

  Stacy checked on Karen and headed out to meet Mr. Rogers.

  Guys were so stupid and so incredibly predictable.

  Chapter 11

  Stacy grabbed her goodie bag and bolted out the door. According to her GPS, the drive would only take about fifteen minutes, not counting a stop for gas. She pulled into the driveway and looked around to be sure no neighbors were hanging in their yards. Stacy got her lined cup and her drink concoction and walked toward Jon’s front door. She was a little annoyed because a stupid dog was barking from the backyard as she approached.

  The door opened. Jon Rogers looked just like she’d assumed he would: tall, dorky, poorly dressed, and in need of a good lay.

  “Wow! You’re beautiful! Hard to believe you don’t have a million guys chasing after you.”

  “Who says I don’t?” Stacy said, smiling. “And besides, all I need tonight is one guy, and you’re in luck, mister.”

  “I’m definitely liking my luck then. Whatcha got there?”

  “Oh, I like to bring my own drinks. I’m kinda picky. I like what I like, you know.”

  Jon sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him. Stacy walked over and offered a drink. She didn’t miss the tremble in his hand or the beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

  “Drink this, baby. A little nervous, are you?”

  “A little. It’s just . . . the girls I usually attract don’t look like you. Honestly, I’ve never been with a girl as pretty as you are.”

  “Aww. That’s cute, Jon. Don’t make me blush. So while we’re on the topic of things we usually don’t encounter, I have a confession. I’ve never told anyone this, so I’m kinda nervous. It’s a little silly, actually. Well, I’d really, really, like to . . . you know, make out with a younger guy. Like fifteen or maybe even younger. And like, just totally turn him out. Is that weird?”

  Jon almost spilled.

  “Well, that’s a little weird. I mean, it’s illegal, right?” Jon said.

  “I’m sorry; you’re right. Maybe I should just leave. I don’t know why, but it just seems like I can trust you.”

  “No, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you or make you feel bad. Okay, maybe I’ve thought about having a younger girl, too, once or twice. Nothing I would ever try to make happen, of course.”

  As he said it, he looked down and away from Stacy as if ashamed.

  “Of course,” Stacy said, turning her head so Jon couldn’t see the look of disgust on her face. You piece of shit, she thought. You’ve been caught three times, and only God knows how many more you’ve gotten away with. No more, though. No more.

  “Already pouring us another drink?” John said as he wiped sweat from his face with the back of his hand.

  “What, you some kinda girly man? Bottoms up, cowboy! You got a restroom somewhere so I could freshen up a little?”

  Jon pointed Stacy in the right direction. She really just wanted a place to hang out so she didn’t have to look at him while the drugs took effect. It’d almost been ten minutes; she figured it wouldn’t take much longer.

  “Hey, you okay in there?”

  Jon’s speech was long, slow, and clearly slurred. Stacy heard a hint of impatience in his voice.

  “I’m fine. Just wanna make sure I look my best for you, baby.”

  Stacy finally came out of the restroom and tried to head for the kitchen but Jon cut her off.

  “Hey, there,” he said. He stood directly in front of her, way too close for comfort. Stacy could tell he was begging for a kiss.

  “One second. We’re almost there, big boy. We aren’t in a rush, are we? I got all night.”

  She eased around Jon, headed for the kitchen, and poured and another glass for them both.

  “You trying to get me drunk, woman?” Jon said with a smile, growing more and more confident and woozy with each passing second.

  “No, baby, I just wanna make sure the edge is off so we can do everything your little heart desires.”

  With that last bit of encouragement, it was bottoms up!

  “Why don’t you come s
it here beside me,” Stacy said. “You wouldn’t happen to have any handcuffs would you, Jon?”

  “I don’t think so. You are a bad girl, aren’t you?”

  “Let me look in my bag. I might have some. If I do, you wanna put ’em on for me?”

  Stacy was trying her best to make sure Jon felt comfortable with the situation. She took out the cuffs, lifted her shirt, and placed the cuffs on her stomach as she lay back onto the couch. She gestured for Jon to come closer. She grabbed his head and forced his face onto her stomach. Jon nibbled. The more Stacy moaned, the harder Jon tried to please her.

  “Stop, baby. Put these on for me.”

  Jon did as he was told. He couldn’t seem to get his fingers to cooperate, so Stacy helped him lock the cuffs into place.

  “Am I drunk?” Jon said, laughing.

  “No, probably not. But you are drugged and a few minutes away from passing out. How’s that?”

  “What?”

  “Drugged, Jon; I drugged you.”

  “Why in the hell would you do that?” He struggled to get the words out, fighting to keep his eyes open.

  “Because, Jon, you are a bad boy—a real bad boy. Be honest with me here, Jon. Do you like girls?”

  “What the fuck do you mean? Of course I like girls! I’m not some faggot.”

  “No, no. Not women like myself. Girls. Ya know, under the age of, say, eighteen. Little fucking girls, Jon.”

  “What’s it to you? You a cop or something? You don’t seem like no cop.”

  Stacy’s laughter filled the room.

  “A cop? No, I’m not a cop, Jon. Far from it. But I will be serving justice tonight.”

  Stacy walked over to her bag and grabbed her snips and duct tape.

  Jon’s eyes bulged as all color left his face. It almost appeared to Stacy that he’d turned into a little boy, in a way. No bravado, no yelling, no begging—just a shaking, frightened, cornered little boy awaiting his punishment.

  “Jon, I don’t know what happened to you, but—and I mean this—I really do feel sorry for you. But I have a calling, a duty, and this must be done.”