Thursday, December 7
“Hey,” he said when she walked into his arms. She wore skinny jeans and a silky tee shirt and a soft fleece jacket. He slipped his hands inside the jacket, ran his hands up and down her back. “Where’ve you been?” He almost said he’d been worried, but it was a little early for that kind of thing. And not quite accurate.
“Out of town,” she said, sliding her arms around his waist and snuggling in. “Last-minute kind of thing. Busy, busy.”
Ouch. “You were right. You said you were a terrible liar. And you are.”
Playfully, she bit his chest, the side without the scabs. “Don’t sound so disappointed, for godsakes. This whole lying thing is new to me. Maybe I just need more practice.”
“I’ve known four year-olds that lie better, sweetheart.” He turned her toward the side path. “One of these days, I’ll give you a tutorial on mendacity.”
She snugged tight under his arm. “Well, not now. There’s way more important things than learning to lie. I’ll just watch some politicians on YouTube, that oughta be enough. That idiot of ours in Tallahassee, Donald somebody?”
“Donald D. Denton.” He punched in the gate code, paused.
“I’ll watch him,” Jan said. “His mouth’s moving, he’s lying. And it looks so natural on him.”
“He’s a sociopath, babe. You probably aren't.” But were you the driver of a hit-and-run? He faced her. “Jan. I need to know something.”
“What?” Guarded.
What was she hiding? “Where were you night before last?”
She toed the gravel. “At home.”
“Give me some details.”
“Why the hell should I?”
“It’s not a casual question, Jan. I need to know.”
“My baby was stolen. Out of my driveway. Humiliating. The love of my life, gone.” She gestured over her shoulder. “Now I’m driving the most boring car on the planet.”
A small, dark coupe sat on the gravel. He closed his eyes a moment, switching from stolen child to stolen vehicle. Putting pieces together. Saw how it could’ve happened. “Okay.”
“Why? You think I did what?” He shook his head. Mouth set, she stared at the gate. He saw when she realized why they hadn’t gone in. “Oh Tanner, what did you think...”
“I just needed something cleared up. You cleared it up.”
“You think there’s someone else...?”
“No. Course not. Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go in. Okay?”
She resisted his hand, but entered. Twenty feet inside, she stopped. Took a breath. Forgave what she needed to forgive.
“Hey,” she said, gesturing. “Our tree.”
He scooped her up, stopped long enough for a lingering kiss. When he came up for air, she continued, little butterflies on his jaw, slow licks down his neck, while her busy fingers plucked at what buttons she could reach. In the breezeway, he paused to set her on her feet.
Mrs. Guzman’s lace curtains twitched. He put his face close to her screen.
“Good evening, Mrs. Guzman. No matter what, do not run the leaf blower today.”
***
Afterward, they took a shower. The stall was a walk-in, big enough for two if they were good friends. It had grab bars, well installed, and Jan hung off them at one point, her hands and locked legs bracing her as Tanner slowly worked his cock back and forth across her g-spot. She came in a flurry of shrieks and Tanner, after three quick, deep strokes, soared after her.
He’d never been crazy for shower sex. Too many hard edges, too slippery underfoot. A good orgasm could kill you in a shower. But for Jan, he’d made an exception. He took her, limp and murmuring compliments, back to bed, and they dozed for a while, enjoying the silence. Tanner watched her wake up. She smiled smugly to herself and he congratulated himself on that smile.
“Think we gave Mrs. Guzman enough provocation?” Jan toyed with the hair on his chest, carefully avoiding the still-red scar
He considered. “Maybe not. We can but try, try again.”
He pushed her back against the rumpled pillow, bent and circled her nipple with the point of his tongue. She gasped, whispered words that included lots of yesses. She tugged on his still-damp hair, urging him closer.
“More, more, more...”
He sucked and licked and teased and stroked one hand down her body, pushing his fingers into the curls, feeling the heat in the swollen flesh beneath. Her hips rose up, hard against his hand, and he spread her wet folds and pushed harder, found the swollen little bud and caressed and she convulsed against him, her hand covering his, grinding against his palm, shivering, choking out “oh my god oh ohhh...”
He rolled her over and took her from behind, her hand caressing his balls, pressing just behind them in just the right place and at just the right moment, and he slammed into her with increasing force, and they came together, falling off the cliff in a rising crescendo of cries.
***
Full daylight. Always, the strident cries of gulls. Somewhere distant a lawn mower. But no leaf blower. He watched January Jones wake, her gaze sharpen as she came fully to awareness. She turned into him, slipped one leg over his, groaned happily.
“Wow,” she mumbled. “I may never walk normally again.”
“Jan.”
She stiffened. “Can’t we not get serious? Huh?”
“What is it with you and Agostino?” He wrapped his arms around her, hoping to soften the abrupt change. Didn’t work. “I’m absolutely not on his side.”
“So you say.”
“He’s going down and if I can help, I will.”
Best he could do. She either believed or she didn’t. He wasn’t betting either way. She blinked and stared past him.
“Let go of me.” He did and she took her arm and leg away and snuggled to one side. Blew out a breath. “Okay. This is hard.”
“Take your time.”
“Last February, my best friend Noëlle had a brief affair with Richie Agostino. She didn’t like the sex. He liked rough stuff. She showed me the bruises.” She wriggled closer, spread her hand on his chest. “They were bad bruises, not just the oops kind. She broke it off. He didn’t like that.”
She was silent. He let it drag on a bit, figuring this didn’t have a happy ending. His guess was that a relationship, if it could even be called that, with Agostino didn’t have a happy ending.
He finally brushed a kiss on her temple. “And then...”
“He’d call her and say disgusting things. She shut the phone off at night and he started calling her at work using different phone numbers. After work, he’d follow her. Noëlle’s really beautiful, and funny. And fun. Guys like her. A couple of evenings, halfway through, her date wouldn’t come back from the bathroom or the bar. But Richie would. She texted one date and he texted back that there were crazy guys following her. She talked about getting a restraining order.”
Cobb and Green? Or Cobb, dumb enough for anything, and Agostino? “Guys. Plural.” She nodded. “So she got the order?”
“No.” She caught his look. “What good would it have done? In a way, it’s just validation that they’re getting to you. And when did an order ever stop a woman from getting beat up or worse?”
“It’s not much of a deterrent.” His sister had been terrorized by a man she barely knew, one who was demonstrably delusional. She’d gotten a restraining order, but it had taken a terrifying confrontation in her own home to get him locked away. “So what did she do?”
“She disappeared.”
“Like Witness Protection?”
She rolled away, lay for a moment with her back to him, then sat up and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. “No,” she said dully. “Like she...vanished.”
“Like she’d been abducted?”
She nodded, fought for composure. “Easter Sunday. She was going to a brunch. She got in her car and,” she rubbed her eyes with both hands, “she hasn’t been seen since. I was out of town. She has no family. Just me. I should’ve...” Her voice cracked. “We’ve been best buds since sixth grade.”
He rubbed her back, felt her ribs heave as emotion overwhelmed her. “They find anything? Her car? Purse? Phone?”
“No. Late model Mustang Ecoboost Premium convertible. Ruby Red Metallic, V-6. I helped her buy it. Well, I tagged along. She loves cars, even more than I do. I did help her buy clothes. She loved red. Like the purse she had with her. Watermelon red leather in a crocodile pattern.” She smiled briefly but couldn’t hold onto it. “But she was – she is, she is – such a car freak. Police suggested it’s been shipped.” Her voice got smaller. “Out of the country, maybe.”
“It’s still an active case, right?”
“I guess. She’s only one of an amazing number. Tampa Bay’s one of the hottest human trafficking areas in the country.”
Omega was increasingly involved with trafficking. Sex from enslaved people was a low-cost gold mine for the traffickers, and they were willing to kill to keep it going. He looked at Jan’s wrist, and her fingers, all so delicate, all so easily broken. He knew what was coming next. He tried to stay calm.
“So you decided to take matters into your own hands. Be the detective.”
She shot him a skin-melting glare. “Damn betcha. Nobody else will.”
“But you’re wrong, sweetheart.” He smiled and she blinked as if she’d never seen him before. “I will.”
***
“I think Crave and a credit card scam isn’t viable,” Tanner said to Athena. He’d woke up Friday with that certainty. “Maybe some modest cash skimming at the bar.”
“Our new forensic accountant’s come to the same conclusion. No patterns of any sort. So what’s your next line of enquiry?”
“We know Agostino used drugs on his Miami victims. He drugged that contestant, Art Gordon. The stuff’s easy to use, particularly at a bar.” He thought of Cynthia Voight, wobbly and disoriented, desperately trying to focus as she sat in the back of the cab. Tanner, you moron. “I may have missed Agostino’s latest victim.”
After he explained, she said “Proof. We need proof.”
“I’ve got the start of the proof. Tell me what you want me to do with it.” He told her about Noëlle Mastromarino. “Do we take Mastromarino to the police?”
She thought a moment. “It’s nebulous. Okay, he’s known to use drugs on women. He had to be checked pretty closely in the course of some of these cases. I mean, six women gone missing in the same area? I’m sure they’ve already looked at him. Particularly with Mastromarino; they’d dated.”
“She worked for a big developer. Owned a condo and a new car. Had a friend who raised hell, helped the cops identify what she was wearing.”
“I’ll see who worked the case. We’ve got a couple of good resources in Pinellas County. I’ll get back with you. Nice work, Tanner.”
“It was dumped in my lap.”
“However it came about, we’ve got it. Now let’s run with it.”
“One last thing.” He had to force the words out. “Check if a Silver Sebring was reported stolen by Miss Jones. And when it was reported.”
***
One more shot. Crave had a limited menu, but even limited meant prep, and the Salvadorian crew jammed into the kitchen at two, chopping and slicing and laughing to the blare of Tejano rap and narcocorridos.
They were bawling out the chorus to A Mis Enemigos when Tanner strode through the long, narrow space. He nodded to Teo. As the final line blared, Tanner joined in. Teo raised his eyebrows and grinned. The chef pointed a finger to one eye – I’ll watch out – and Tanner slipped into the club.
This time the key worked. He worked on nitrile gloves and opened the door. The cabinet lock yielded quickly. The card-processing units lay on a lower shelf, wrapped in their wires. The bar unit had a transaction counter on it; he couldn’t risk anyone noticing a change in count. He selected one, re-locked the cabinet and storeroom doors.
In the bar, he plugged the unit in and when it was ready began entering the alphanumeric data. It took eight fumble-fingered minutes to get the information that Omega’s numbers whiz had said would be available. The printer began to spew paper. At Omega, Carly would tear it apart.
The printouts went into his pocket and the machine back into the cabinet. As he closed the doors, he glanced down. The Lost and Found box had been moved.
He pulled the box out onto the floor, pulled the flaps open. Expecting the red lace panties. For a moment, he just looked. Then what he saw hit him. On the top lay a new item, something he never thought he’d see again. His stomach lurched as unconsidered possibilities exploded in his mind.
“No,” he said, feeling sick. “No.”
He pawed through the box, looking at it from his new perspective. His hands shook violently when he found what he was looking for.
***
Tanner left the club and collapsed in his car, trying to contain his volcanic fury. When the initial onslaught was under control, he texted Jan.
— Need to ask a question. Plz call.
He called Omega, wanting a conference with both Athena and Grey. While he waited, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about what he’d just found. Waiting to hear from Jan.
Look on the bright side. It’s almost proof positive.
Nothing bright about it.
“Tanner?” Athena. “What’s up?”
A click, a change in background noise. “Got your photos,” Grey said. “What’s it mean?”
He explained his find. In the back seat of the cab, the cat’s eye glasses had been sliding off Cynthia Voight’s nose, the lenses smeared, the rhinestones somehow pathetic. He’d wanted to take them off her and clean them. So she could see more clearly.
Of the other items, he awaited confirmation. But Jan hadn’t called.
“They’re trophies,” Tanner finished, again slamming his fist on the console. “The bastard’s taking goddamned trophies. And there’s nearly twenty items in that box.”
“Jesus,” Grey murmured.
“It fits,” Athena added. “We now know that out of the six most recently identified missing women from the Tampa Bay area, four of them have a Crave connection. We just finished compiling that info, Tanner.”
“And nobody’s doing anything?”
“They’re not cold cases, they’re just not worked much. Women walk away all the time. Too many jurisdictions, poor communication, rivalries.” Anger in her voice. “Budget cuts. Big impact cases that affect elections come first.”
Holden cut in. “We have a conference set up in five with a contact at the Sheriff’s department. Things’ll change after that.”
Tanner looked at the building, so innocuous, so unremarkable. He wanted to torch it, bomb it, reduce it to rubble. “So Agostino’s taking them—”
“We don’t know for sure it’s him,” Holden said. “You’ve mentioned others. Wouldn’t be the first time the one who appeared to be in charge was just an errand boy.”
“Agostino wouldn’t play second fiddle to the emperor of the galaxy.”
“My guess, too.” Athena’s voice became somber. “The eyeglass woman: she could still be alive, Carl. You have to find her. And the others, too.”
“Athena...” Grey, exasperated. “Before the day is over, we’ll probably have to step aside. We’ve got too much evidence that there’s something, even sexual trafficking, going through Crave. No law enforcement agency will walk away from that. But the other women? Some gone for months?” He didn’t continue.
“Careers could be made over this, so now it’s important.” Athena blew out a breath. “Just do what you can, Tanner. We’ll keep you posted from our end.”
“We’ll free up people,” Grey said. “Duffy, Kominski. Can you use them?”
“Not at this point.” He wanted no help. He wanted to break this one himself. Personal? Hell, yes. Luz Acero and Angelina Ortega, Noëllle Mastromarino, Cynthia Voight, the unnamed woman in the hall, all had made it very personal. “Let’s see what the Sheriff’s people—”
“Wait one.” Grey covered the mouthpiece, then came back. “Carly thinks she’s found something.”
***
“I should’ve caught this.” The accountant said. “It was staring right at me. I should’ve—”
“You’re not omnipotent,” Tanner said. “What’re you talking about?”
“The charges. I categorized them. Counted them. Cross referenced. But until I had a weird name, it didn’t stick. Mastromarino.”
“She vanished on Easter Sunday.”
“Yes. So,” Carly said, “we had a charge from Angelina Ortega whose sister reported her missing last week. Made this Tuesday. But it was the only one. Maybe a fluke, a delayed billing.”
“She vanished a week before.”
“Yes. It was for a lot of drinks, with a big tip. But the signature wasn’t hers. Still, it could be explained away. But then I heard Noëlle Mastromarino’s name. Remembered seeing it. Found the charges. Two. One in March, before Easter. One three weeks ago. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—”
“Stop beating yourself up. The important thing is you found it. We know now that someone’s using their cards. Someone at Crave.”
“Yeah.”
“Somebody kinda dumb.” Bud Cobb. Nobody at Crave could come closer to dumb than Cobb. Who, from time to time, carried huge trays of drinks to groups of women. “Fatally dumb.”
Athena came back on the line. “We’ve got the Sheriff’s office looking at it. You can stand down. Good work, Carl.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. Stand down? Not goddam likely.