Secure Desire Page 24

“I wonder that too. I’ll ask Wes to make another visit to the doc at the Franklin Clinic,” Kieran said.

  Hunter frowned. “I can think of two reasons—incompetence or money.”

  Pete stared at the photo. “Shit, we know this wasn’t for an abortion. Someone wanted Cassie to get pregnant.”

  Monique slammed her hand down. “It’s those crazy people. They wouldn’t shut up about childbearing. And that fucker at the clinic played me. My god, Kieran,” she shrieked. Kieran reached for his wife’s hand.

  “How do we prove it?” Pete asked.

  “I’ll call Andy Blake. We start from the beginning. Every witness gets looked at again. I’ll bring Ian up to speed. I need to track down that ex of hers—he blew off our scheduled meeting. Guys, just take care of Cassie. Monique, call the office. Have them recall my team, Mike, and his team. Five o’clock—tenth floor.” Kieran got up to make the call.

  Martin had had enough rest—there was work to do. He waited for Lil to check on Cassie to sneak out on her. The couch in the upscale Union Square hair salon provided comfort to his aching body while he waited to speak with Franny Penn. Six years ago, she was the hostess at La Luna.

  The young woman with violet streaks in her hair approached him. “Well, lover, what can I do for you? You don’t need a cut.” She ran her hand over his close-cropped hair. “But I love, love, love this color.” Franny ran her thumb across the stitches above his brow. “What did you do? Poor baby.”

  Martin gave her a movie star-worthy megawatt smile. “Franny, my name is Martin Bailey.” He handed her his business card. “I need to ask you a few questions about something that happened at La Luna six years ago.”

  “That’s a long time ago.”

  “I thought we could try. Can you take a few minutes?” Martin turned the charm to full blast.

  “You are my last customer, so I’m all yours.” Her tone was seductive.

  “Let me treat you to a cup of coffee or something?”

  “I’ll take the ‘or something.’” Her eyes told him what “something” was.

  They sat at a table in a small bistro. “Franny, Metro Police spoke to you about an argument you witnessed in the parking lot.”

  “Yeah, I do remember that. The girl had a weird name. Like the stars, Cassiopeia, right?”

  “Yes. You do remember. Do you recall what she was wearing?”

  Franny sipped her sparkling wine. “The guy wore a smart black suit and a thin silver tie.”

  “Why do you remember that?”

  She laughed. “My boss played a game with the staff every shift. We gave our picks at the beginning of the night. We got an extra hundred if we won the pool. He had the bartender keep the tally—I won that night. It was count the number of guys with those preppy thin ties and any-color-but-black girl shoes. There was a huge debate about them. I said they didn’t count since they never came inside.”

  Martin smiled. “Cassiopeia?”

  “Boring black dress. Black patent ballet shoes. I hate that style.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, I remember thinking that with her reddish hair and the cool name, she should be wearing more color.”

  “One more question. What do you think of these shoes?” Martin showed her a picture of Cassie’s navy pumps.

  “Now, lover, that’s a shoe. I dream of making enough to afford those. That’s Valentino.”

  “How much are they? They’re shoes.”

  “Eleven hundred a pair.”

  Martin almost spat out his coffee. “Well, Franny, today’s your lucky day. Come with me now so we can write this all down, and I will buy you a pair.”

  After the graveside service, Ian drove to CIA headquarters. Flashing the appropriate credentials, he was allowed to enter the secretive halls. Analyst Terry Fields escorted him to a small conference room. “Good to see you.” He patted Ian on the arm.

  Ian winced. “Arm versus bullet. No big deal.”

  Terry frowned. “I thought you sat behind a desk these days? I assume this isn’t a social meeting then. What brings you in?”

  Ian placed an envelope on the table. “Samples and a shell from my building.” He pulled two photographs and two fingerprint cards from his pocket. “These two took a shot at me in San Diego. Ex-AFEUR. I need to know who hired them.” He pointed to one. “He’s no longer with us.”

  “Wanna tell me anything else?”

  “Yeah, they were wearing Russian-made boots, using Russian shells, and had Russian-used weapons. I think both attacks are related.”

  Terry and Ian went back a long way to when Terry served as a green CIA field analyst in Afghanistan, where they met. “Someone wants to kill a friend. She’s important to me.”

  Terry picked up the materials. “Well, hot damn. Ian Chase is coming off the market.”

  “You always had a sharp eye. How are Karen and the girls?” They spent some time reminiscing before Ian left.

  Andy Blake sat at his desk in the second district’s detective unit. The fifteen-minute meeting with his lieutenant went better than he expected. She gave him permission to continue working Cassie’s case and lightened his remaining caseload. This time, Beltway politics worked in his favor—and dropping the Chase name didn’t hurt.

  The old wood desk was stacked with files. Dead center sat two pictures of Cassie—one taken after her attack six years earlier and one taken right after the stabbing, reminders of his mission. Across the top were photos of the girls who died with MO’s similar to Cassie’s attack. Their fresh young faces shone up at him.

  “They were all young, wealthy, and sheltered.” He sipped a cup of cold coffee. “What else do you have in common?”

  Javier parked his behind on the desk’s corner. “You’ve been here all night. Thought you’d need this.” He passed Andy a fresh cup of coffee.

  “Javi, what are we missing? Other than going to Houseman’s on occasion, what do these women have in common? Their murders did not correlate to their visits. Even if that’s the hunting ground, why these women? Most attackers have a preference. It’s not size, hair color, eye color, or hairstyle. Nor is it race. Is it their wealth? They all had trust funds, but different banks and conservators. Twelve women. We’ve checked cell phones, social media, hair salons, churches, schools, coffee shops, manicure places, family, friends, clothing stores, food stores, Uber, Lyft, credit card bills, cars, doctors.”

  Javier took a closer look. “Boyfriends?”

  “Except for Cassie, none. The feeling I got from each file is that these were good girls. Sweet, naïve. Certainly not a one-and-done type.”

  “Cassie had a boyfriend,” Javier noted.

  “A fiancé. What are you thinking?” Andy stared at his partner.

  Javier scratched his neck. “First-timers. Virgins? But Cassie was engaged.”

  Andy’s eyes rose. “I did that prelim report. Remember, the doc thought it was partying out of hand? Family convinced me it was otherwise. Cassie was a virgin.”

  Javier stood up. “I guess that means some crappy phone calls. Give me half.” Andy handed him six files. “What are we gonna do about Robby Bynum?”

  “Track him down and get an interview. I want to know what he and Ames talked about,” Andy said.

  “You didn’t hear? They found him dead from an OD in Washington County. I’ll start the calls.” Javier picked up a phone and dialed the first number.

  “Hell, I better talk to the boss again. And five minutes ago, I thought things might be going our way.”

  Andy needed his lieutenant to reach out to the captain in charge of the Bynum investigation at the Virginia State Police Department. Between the girls and Bynum, they were dealing with five different jurisdictions and three squads in his own department. Returning to his desk, Andy put out another VICAP notification, adding “virgins” to the description and asking if any other jurisdiction had similar cases. Acid churned in his belly.

  Andy and Javier sat on their meal break in a burger place
near the station. Both men sipped milkshakes, trying to clear their heads from the anguish of the grieving families.

  Javier bit into a pickle. “I never want to do that again. ‘Hi, this is Detective Ruiz. I’m sorry to have to ask this, but was your dead daughter a virgin?’ I’m locking my daughter in the house until she’s thirty.”

  “Javi, she’s only two.” As he was biting into his burger, Andy’s phone went off. His expression soured. “I’ll be there in twenty. Thanks.” He reached into his pocket for an antacid. “The third has an unidentified brunette in the McMillan Reservoir. Strangled, covered with bites.”

  Ian fell asleep during the thirty-minute drive to the second district station. Jason woke him at their arrival. The officer at the desk asked him to take a seat. “Detective Blake is expected any moment.”

  Ian welcomed the mental break. Except for a few hours on the return flight and the few minutes in the car, he was going on thirty-four hours awake. He felt his age; he was not used to the long hours anymore, and the bullet wound didn’t help.

  Javier walked into the lobby. “Mr. Chase.” He extended his hand. “Come on back. Andy’s en route. He asked me to bring you up to speed.”

  Ian listened to the detective’s newest theory. Javier explained that the only one who broke the pattern was Cassie—she survived. “We sent out another VICAP search, pulling Cassie’s crime from the batch. According to the dates of death, two women were killed before Cassie’s attack.”

  “One more difference, she conceived. DNA results should be back in ninety hours,” Ian said.

  Andy Blake joined them. “Looks like we have another one. Homicide is running down her identity. She was strangled and covered in bites. Same pattern.”

  Andy, Javier, and Ian moved to the lieutenant’s office. “We’ll have more privacy in here. How did it go with the baby?” Andy asked.

  “A little issue, but we got what we needed, and he’s home with Cassie’s family.”

  Andy sighed. “Good. I hope it brings her some peace. If anyone deserves that, it’s her.”

  “Cassie said Ames told her she would fetch a good price. Do you think they were selling them for something?”

  “But for what? We found the other victims dead,” Javier said.

  “Unless, if there’s trafficking involved, maybe Cassie isn’t the only survivor.”

  Ian’s cell buzzed. “Yeah, Martin. You’re supposed to be in bed. All right, I’m sitting with Ruiz and Blake. I’m putting you on speaker. Go.”

  “Boss, I have Franny Penn with me in your office with Esther. She’s transcribing her statement, plus I have a video statement. I can tell you with certainty that it was not Cassie at the restaurant. The girl at the restaurant was wearing, according to Franny, black patent leather ballet shoes and a boring black dress.”

  “I will check with Cassie, but unless she changed, she was wearing a beautiful dress in shades of blue and navy heels. When you’re done, take Ms. Penn wherever she needs to go. Put eyes on her.”

  “Roger. Uh, Boss, we need to stop at a shoe store. I sorta promised her a pair of Valentino pumps, and I was advised that they are more than petty cash.”

  “There’s always a learning curve. Ask Esther for the black card. And, Martin, nice job. Go back to bed."

  “Well, if it wasn’t Cassie, then the Whitmans have a lot of explaining to do,” Javier said. “And this gives us more legs to stand on.”

  “Chase, let me bring you up to date with what we have, and then maybe we can figure this out. Joe Maddox. Preliminary says it’s a suicide. No evidence of forced entry. There were his debt and career loss, but he just had a new grandchild. No note. Scheduled for a golf game this morning. His attorney said he planned to fight the charges, and he and his wife just remortgaged their home, which was effective in removing the acute shortfall. Luggage was packed and ready in the master bedroom. His wife said they were leaving on a long-planned trip to Costa Rica. It doesn’t make sense. We’re sorting through his papers, but it’s going slow.” Andy scanned through his notes.

  “I agree. The math isn’t adding up. If you agree, I’ll send you two of my analysts to help. Off the record.”

  Andy handed Ian two pictures. “Ames was confirmed as one of Cassie’s attackers. We also received confirmation that he was involved in the attacks on two of the other women so far. If we extrapolate from there, his closest friend is Robby Bynum Jr. That would be a real hot lead, but Bynum Jr. overdosed yesterday afternoon.”

  Ian explained what happened in California. “Someone is cleaning up.”

  “Cassie’s danger is growing,” Javier said.

  “I won’t let anything happen to her. I’m gonna run this by my people. I’ll be in touch soon.” Ian thanked both men and headed to the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  In the car, Ian put his thoughts together. He still had no idea what the Russian connection was, but Mark Devereaux was his next stop. A beep indicated an incoming call. “Chase.”

  “Hey, man. It’s Terry.”

  “You’re fast.”

  “What are you working on? These two are guns for hire—big guns. They’re on everyone’s list. No one had any idea they were in the country.”

  “Not good.”

  “Damn straight. What were they going after?”

  “A dead infant.”

  “Start talking, man. I set off every bell and whistle when those prints went through.”

  “Are you on a secure line?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The baby was conceived in an assault six years ago. You heard about the attack at the Four Seasons in May?”

  “Yeah. Senator’s aide and a staff member were killed. And the art trader, Billy Ellis’s kid, was stabbed.”

  “Cassie. She is the baby’s mom.”

  “And your lady? Heard she was kidnapped from the hospital. You still have the touch, Chase.”

  “Thanks. I need to know why they want the baby—and why someone is trying to kill her. There were five additional attempts. I have a leak. And why these Russians?”

  “They work for a dangerous guy, Arkady Sabitov; he’s Bratva, based in Moscow. I picked up some intel that there’s a big bounty for the Big and Little Dipper. It’s coming from him.”

  “Any more info on the contract?”

  “I can tell you it’s a first-come, first-served offer. If Cassie is the target, you better get her in a very safe place. A lot of money is being tossed around. I’ll keep checking on my end. I’ll also put feelers out for your leak, but be careful. And, Ian, those bells and whistles—there may be pushback.”

  “Thanks, Terry. And I’ll deal with the pushback as necessary.”

  Ian walked around the exhibit area in the Ellis Art Finds gallery, waiting for Mark Devereaux. The show featured works from talented high school artists from the fifty states.

  “Mr. Chase?” The older man greeted him with an extended hand. “I spoke with Luke Paulsen this afternoon. It was so good to hear the news about Cassiopeia being awake. He told me how kind you are to her. Tell me, what can I do for you?”

  “Mr. Devereaux, before Cassie withdrew from EAF, I understood she traveled to Europe, often to Moscow.”

  “She has a remarkable eye for talent. Russia is going through a renaissance because of its newfound capitalism. She found a gallery that frequently showcases new artists.”

  “Do you still associate with that gallery?”

  “Why all these questions?”

  Ian noticed his hostile tone. “Cassie is confused. We’re trying to sort out fact from fiction.”

  “Luke didn’t mention that. I am so sorry, poor baby. Yes, we do. They’re the largest private gallery in Moscow.” Devereaux relaxed.

  “What’s it called?”

  “Sabitov Galleries.”

  “Any particular art?”

  “Paintings. Mostly new artists. We import their art for either a showing or a private sale.”

  “What about Judge Marshall
? I attended a dinner with him and Cassie. They spoke about a mutual love for fine art. Has he purchased work from you?” Ian caught the twitch in Devereaux’s brow.

  “Hmm, I’ll have to check our records. I don’t believe the judge has made a recent purchase. I’ll need to get back to you.”

  “Thank you. These little bits will help us help Cassie.”

  “Is she well enough for visitors? I would love to see her. This is so devastating. She’s like one of my children; she’s always been my little star. I’ve spoken often to Luke about her since she was hurt. Her father entrusted Luke and me to take care of her.” He cupped his mouth with his hand.

  “I think Cassie would love to see you. I’ll clear it with her doctors.” After I check you out. “Little star,” my behind, Ian thought.

  The Chase Group building was cloaked in darkness, huge tarps concealing the destruction from the bombing. Ian rode up to the penthouse and tossed his jacket on his desk where a picture of Cassie smiled up at him. He caressed the photograph before he headed down the hallway. The Eagle’s Talon communication room suffered structural damage, so the boardroom was bustling with two full tactical teams.

  “Come sit, bro.” Kieran pulled out a chair.

  “Someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “We have some new theories. Why don’t you fill us in first?” Kieran deferred.

  Ian moved to the head of the room. “Okay, folks. First, thank you for today. I’m aware everyone is running on empty. Mike, I want you and your team to stand down for the next forty-eight hours. See your families and get some rest. Kieran’s team, take the forty-eight after that. I spoke with our mom, and she’s gonna cover a few days off for Jamie, Eric, Pete, and Tuck, who’ve been working nonstop. The Paulsen sons are all well trained. Kieran assigned two to head over to the house and equip themselves with coms and night vision. Fill them in on our security codes. The five are all SEALs with leadership, interrogation and sniper skills between them.”