Exposed by Rage (8 page)

DeMarco acted like nothing had happened when he came by to give me an update on the fire.  I decided to ignore it as well.  To be honest I wasn't sure what to say.  He hadn't really done anything specific, just babbled a few words I didn't want to hear.

“We found gas cans by the tennis court, and fresh tire tracks outside the delivery gates that aren’t wide enough for the tires on most delivery trucks.  The techs took a cast to compare with our database, the lab didn’t find any prints on the cans.”

“There are cameras along the perimeter of the property.  They feed to the house but also to a cloud server, but I don’t know the access and can’t get hold of Trixie.” 

DeMarco scratched his chin.  “Did the feed go only to the office or could any of the computers access the backup?”

“Knowing Trixie, she could access that from anywhere.  She has an office off her bedroom, where she has a computer that duplicates the one downstairs.  I don’t know if she took her laptop, but that’s just movie business and email as far as I know. “

“Good.  We’ll get in there as soon as we can and take the computer to the station.   The fire chief said he’d let my techs in the house later tonight, once he’s sure the heat’s down.  I have a couple of guys guarding the place until the computers and the evidence is collected.”

I felt for the technicians.  The fire and the water would make it almost impossible to find anything

DeMarco must have been thinking the same thing.  “We’re lucky you got the fire department out so quick.  The fire got up the stairs but the carpet from that point must have had some type of retardant and the perp didn’t throw gas around up there.   It climbed a bit of the wall, where they meet but the firefighters got it knocked out. The downstairs is another matter.  I doubt we’ll find much to help us.”

“Yea.  I wouldn’t trade jobs with your guys on this one.  After what happened this morning I’ve decided being unarmed isn’t an option.  It’s been a long time since I’ve done any shooting here, can you recommend a range around here?”

“Sure, do you want indoor or long range?  There are a couple of placed we can go if you don’t mind me tagging along. “

“I don’t mind.”  I didn't.  It would give me an opportunity to see what his skill level was like.  Maybe give us a chance to do a bit of competitive practice rounds.    I always work better when I have someone else to compare to.  If they are better than I am, I learn.  If they aren't, well tough shit for them I usually don’t waste my time training, but I might be talked into making an exception.  My only requirement was that the loser doesn’t pout and DeMarco didn't look like the pouting type.”

We made an appointment at the local gun range, then DeMarco vanished to do paperwork.  Every time that happened I was gloating.  My paperwork days were over.  I should have been more careful with my thoughts.  Karma can be a grim reaping bitch.

* * * *

I decided to take the rest of the day off--which actually meant I had to make a dozen phone calls.  Contact Trixie’s insurance guy, set up an interview with Caroline--it was just for show, really--I trusted Poppy more than I could ever admit.  Find a housekeeper and gardener to replace Jose and Elspeth.  Hell it makes my head ache just to think about all the others. 

As usual, Poppy was there to make sure I had food—what was I going to do when she left.  I hate cooking.  Answer, with the money Jillie left me I could hire someone who could force me to eat.  Probably a sumo wrestler would be required, but I’d start with talking to Trixie’s chef when I could find him.  He could make some decent referrals.  Done, I tossed the phone on the table and changed into my swimsuit.  It seemed I was going to be taking out my frustrations in the water on a daily basis.  I would have to add having an indoor pool to the list of things to improve.

For a record breaking third time that day DeMarco appeared.  People would begin to talk if we didn’t stop the madness.  Spending days together because of murder and arson wouldn’t end the gossip.  He didn’t take time to say hello, just grabbed me and planted a kiss that sent me rocketing to another realm. 

Ignoring Poppy’s delighted smirk I dragged the man to my boudoir and stripped him naked.  He wanted to return the favor, but I was in too much of a hurry.  I disrobed in record time and jumped up wrapping my legs around him.  The bed was too far to go, so he planted me against the wall and drove into me.

The exquisite friction of our bodies compounded the heat of our encounter.  I was, craving, demanding, begging and pleading with his every move.  The rough texture of the wall, the softness of his skin covering hard muscles.  The sensations wound around me.  Through me.  His lightest touch made me quiver like a harp string.  I couldn’t hold back and came, only to have him carry me to the bed. 

His touch was so light I sensed it rather than felt it.  When he kissed my neck, my arms, my breasts I wanted to beg and plead for mercy.  He held himself back, plucking and teasing me with his fingers, his mouth, driving me to a divine madness.  I lost all control.  My muscles held him wrapped tightly within me as our bodies responded as I never dreamed possible.

I don’t know if I slept or fell unconscious but it could only have been for a moment, but when I finally opened my eyes, he was there, staring down at me.  Exploring every inch of me with his eyes.  This time he wasn’t so gentle.  He lay on his side, his hand twisted in my hair he planted a deep, bruising kiss on my lips.  He took from me, all I could give.  Moved his hand down cupping my neck as his teeth raked across it sending shocks of lightening through me.  Grasping my breast he squeezed just hard enough to make me cry for more.  I was lost.

On the verge of expiring, I cried for relief and he showed mercy.  He plunged into me deep, deeper, the force sending ecstasy rolling through me in unending waves.  I wrapped my arms around his back, speeding the timing of each stroke.  Moving him to plummet harder and faster.  Teetering on the edge of a cliff, preparing to dive into nirvana he captured my wrists, and gave all there was to give until I could take no more.  

My cellphone rang.  It was one of my contacts in the industry with information on the girl.

“I think I know her though she looks bad compared to the girl I interviewed.  Didn’t hire her for my film.  To desperate.  To needy.  But I got info and a pic.  She was hopin' for a callback.”

He wasn't in Texas, but said he had a meeting in Houston this evening and was flying in on his company jet.  He promised to have the pilot do a round trip, after he was dropped off, the package would be at the Addison Airport a small private airport south of Plano, and I could meet the plane there to get everything he had.  

deMarco and I met the pilot when the plane landed, and received a thin folder of information. There were releases, contact information and pictures of a young Asian girl.  She was not a typical beauty, a little too slender, teeth a little too prominent and eyes that glinted with fear. My guy had included his own notes, and a number of shots with her posing, dressed and undressed.  They appeared to have been done by an amateur photographer, probably the person who had encouraged her to go to the audition.  She looked uncomfortable--exposed in every pic, and much too young to have been murdered by some jackass pervert killer.  

"You know that phone number is going to turn out to be disconnected or a throw away that can't be traced," DeMarco said looking over my shoulder as I scanned thorough the file.  I doubt the last name is real either."  

"Probably, but it at least gives us a place to send out some inquires.  See if she was ever found.  Ever identified officially."  I played it cool but I wanted to gab the bastard that had killer her by the neck and twist it from his neck, after I had the opportunity to give him a taste of the knives and other instruments used on the girl.

"The address was in Oklahoma.  Do you know anyone who might have connections there?"

"Nothing comes to mind, but I'll see if I can come up with anyone.  DeMarco, this girl--she's probably not the only one.  Can you put together a search to see if anyone has discovered victims with a similar signature of torture?"  My stomach was churning like a cement mixer, and the hatred I felt for the profession Trixie was so proud to be part of grew overwhelming.  I knew she wasn't active in this off-shoot of the business, but she also was doing nothing to stop it.

“We’ll see about sending some enquires up to Oklahoma law enforcement.  Explore their open cases.”

Frustrated and unable to think of any other avenue to follow at the moment, I said something completely against my nature.  “Can we make a wish and discover this is all just a bad dream?”

"If you think it will help, we can try, however, I can't remember ever having a wish fulfilled,” he smiles and there was a twinkle in his eyes.  “Well that's not completely true. I wished I'd find someone like you and you're more amazing that I ever dreamed."

I admit it.  I couldn't think of a single flip remark to toss at him.  His words pierced the cold reality of the investigation with warmth that filled me with a burst of happiness and chased away the shadows created by the activities of our killer.

When the flush of awkward happiness faded, I tried to convince myself that DeMarco’s words were self-serving.  A way to assure he’d get me back into bed, or on the floor, or in the shower.  In my experience men don’t say things like that, but I had to admit this one was different and I found my distrust begin to fade.  But just a tiny bit.  I wasn’t ready to succumb to hope for happily-ever-after just yet. 

* * * *

I had to shake off the warm and fuzzy thoughts and concentrate on the matter we were investigating.  Reaching for my cellphone I scanned though the contacts list for someone who knew Oklahoma and the business.  I should have thought of it when DeMarco asked.  Jerry Rider, a former—I think number 4 or 5--husband of Trixie’s was the perfect one to call.  He had his kingdom just outside Enid, a nice little town of about 50,000 where people ignored him.  Jerry didn’t film in Oklahoma, it was his escape from the masses.  But he knew everyone linked to the industry there.  I punched in the numbers to place the call.

“Ashley, my favorite ex-stepdaughter.  Don’t tell me you finally decided to accept my offer to star you in a film.”

“Not even close, Jer.” I explained what had been happening, asked about finding someone who knew the girl, or could tell me about the lotus logo.

“Those freaks are bad for business.  Don’t know anyone around here who might be into that sort of thing, but I learned a long time ago you can’t always tell what’s going on inside someone’s brain.”

He paused.  I waited.  Figured he was running names through his head.

“I’ll make a few calls—seems I remember a couple of girls came to visit a few months back and were all in an uproar over some friend of theirs who had disappeared.  Probably not this one you’re lookin’ for but it could be related.”

“Thanks Jerry, give them my number even if it seems a stretch.”

“Will do, darlin’.  Sure I can’t convince you to do a little screen sex?”

“Jerry.  You are such a joker,” I did my best to sound flattered but I don’t think I succeeded.  I admit I was thinking,
not in this lifetime buster
.

I suddenly felt exhausted.  It had only been three days since I had found Jillie and I knew the scum who killed her was slipping further from our reach.  There is something to be said about that 48 hour timeline cops are known to use as a measure to get the leads they need.  Our leads were microscopic and fading fast.

* * * *

I sat back trying to rub the tension out of my neck.  Demarco replaced my hand with his, the tension evaporated at his touch.

“You don’t like having to do this.”

I asked, “What, this investigation?”

“No, these people.  Your mother’s associates.  You hate having to deal with them.”

“Does it show much?”

“Yea,” he said.  “You get a look in your eyes like you want to peel their skin, and every muscle locks up.  And when you’re around Braden or the others you get the same way.”

I intentionally ground my teeth to keep from cursing.  “I hate this place, and the business.  I admit it.  It’s been a pain in the ass since I was a kid and things haven’t changed.  Can you even imagine what it’s like to be bullied, ignored, a pariah?  All this just because your mother does something everything thinks if sinful and disgusting.  I’m not like her.  I never wanted to be like her, but damn, every time someone finds out what she is, I end up---“

“Not every time.  You have friends, Poppy and Dylan.  People who admire you, Kevin, Butch and probably a few more from your army days.  I see the way people look at you.  And don’t forget, you have me.”

“Maybe, I’m over reacting—and you are warm and cozy to have around.”  I reached up and took his hand, drawing it to my lips for a kiss. 

“What’s it like having Trixie as your mother?”

“Really?  What do you think it’s like?  Naked people splayed all over the house.  Her always telling me that people who don’t like what she does are moralistic idiots who try to make the human body something to be ashamed of.  Oh, she tried to give me space and even shield me from some of it, but it didn’t work.  How could it?  Then there was going out in public.  The parents pulling their kids away from me like I had some disease.  Those same kids doing everything they could think of to torment me.”

“Ash, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.  You haven’t done anything to be sorry for, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

DeMarco turned the chair around so I could face him.  “You seemed to have survived it and done something good with your life.  How about thinking of all the good you do instead of what was.”

I bowed my head.  “Okay.”  Horror seized me when I realized I had pushed out my bottom lip in a pout.  I don’t pout.  I don’t make girlie faces.  What was this man doing to me?

We went to join Poppy and Dylan for dinner, giving them a brief update of what we had been working on and avoiding my pity party discussion.  My phone rang as we sat over coffee, throwing around ideas for other paths to checkout.  Sometimes I hate the fact that cellphones were ever invented. 

It was Jerry and he wanted me meet with the girls who were in the Metroplex for a few days shopping before catching a flight out to a new movie they were doing.  He gave me the name of their hotel and the number to Fanny Patt’s cell, telling me the girls would expect me in the morning—which in their world was about noon.

“Do they have real names, Jerry?”

“Lilly Wilson and Geraldine Patt,” he laughed and said goodbye without the usual final request for me to appear butt naked in his presence.

We decided that Dylan would take a run up to Enid in the morning to talk to the local authorities in the area.  See if they had any information on underground pornographers or anything related that might give up a lead.  Poppy was expecting Caroline at the club to give her an overview of the job she was applying for.  With everything else I had forgotten the interview I had scheduled and decided to have Poppy apologize from my absence and make her an offer if she felt Caroline was a fit.

DeMarco got up and opened a bottle of wine, snagged two glasses and invited me to follow him to the bedroom.  I didn’t object.

He sat on the couch, poured us each a glass of wine, set his down and reached over, drawing my legs into his lap.  Removing my shoes he began to rub my foot.

As he set one foot on his leg and placed the other in his hands, I took a sip of wine and felt a rush of warmth slide down my throat, and radiate from my belly.  Closing my eyes I drifted into the clouds as everything but the soothing comfort of his hands disappeared.