Hell on the Heart (14 page)

He peered out the window and saw Skeet Monaghan waving at him, two bags on the ground beside his feet.

The pilot opened the door as stairs were rolled into place. John waited. This wasn’t going to be his last stop of the evening.

“Don’t bother getting off.” Skeet bound up the stairs two at a time, holding Stillwater’s backup go-bag from his office as well as his own.

“Where’re we going?”

“Biloxi, Mississippi.” Shifting the bags from one hand to the other, he handed the pilot a folder tucked under his arm. The veteran pilot wasn’t fazed. He sealed the cabin door as efficiently as he’d opened it, before disappearing into the cockpit. Within minutes, the plane’s engine roared to life.

Skeet charged down the aisle, tossing their bags onto unused seats. John followed in his wake.

“Why, Biloxi?” John grabbed the seat opposite Skeet and sunk into the buttery soft leather. “Virginia was their last target.”

Skeet stretched his long legs into the aisle and bit the earpiece of his reading glasses using his mouth to open the frames before sliding them onto his face. “This one’s old, but juicy. Wait till you hear the details. These guys have been at it for a while. In Biloxi they picked up eight girls at once.”

John groaned. Why weren’t they getting ahead of these guys? All they were doing was chasing them. Both men reached for their carryon’s to dig out their current files.

Skeet passed him a manila folder. “Ciggy sent a rundown on your gypsies. Quite the interesting bunch. And we got confirmation on the photos from the girls in Montana.”

“Good.” John tucked the folder on the Romneys aside to read later.

Skeet handed him the photos he recognized from Czigany’s collection, then read from notes. “Eli or Elijah’s a fairly new hire. When Missy Harding was picked up, he was the driver, but neither of the other two girls could identify him.”

“He’s moving up in the company. On Friday, he and Cain exchanged roles. And according to Czigany, Cain was pissed Ellie was drunk. They didn’t kill her, but they might as well have.”

Photos swapped hands. “Fred and Charlie, two local boys,” John offered their booking photos, “were high on crystal meth when they stumbled across her. Ellie was sprawled across the backseat of her car with the car door left open. Her legs dangled outside with her panties around her ankles, her breasts were bared and her skirt was hiked to her waist with her hand between her legs.”

Skeet frowned. Despite his military background, he managed to convey the impression of a college professor grading bad term papers.

“According to the security cameras, the black limo pulled up at twelve-fifteen and remained double-parked on the street until twelve-thirty-six. Sixteen minutes. Long enough for a man to arrange a passed out girl in that position.”

“Was the car dusted for prints?”

“No, the crime scene had been compromised by inexperienced law enforcement. Neither of the officers wore gloves. The body was moved before the ME arrived. No autopsy was ordered and when I insisted, it was too late. The body had already been released to the funeral home for burial.”

“They’re claiming consensual based upon her position. Which I’m sure was Elijah’s intention. Except the girl regained consciousness before they finished, surprising them by fighting back. Charlie Hagger put his hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming while Fred Baer finished raping her. According to both men, Charlie hadn’t meant to suffocate her.”

“Meth, rape and murder and somehow they think it’s not their fault?” Skeet rubbed the back of his neck.

“They’ll be joining all the other innocents in prison. But they have agreed to testify which should give us enough to convict Cain and Eli for intent.”

“What about the girl? Will she testify?”

John stared out the window, seeing only his reflection staring back at him. Would she? Would her family let her? “I would like to see her used in a different capacity. I want the Bureau to hire her.” Skeet’s head shot up, his cool reception to the idea was reflected in his ice blue eyes. John back peddled. “At least for the duration of this case.”

Skeet shook his head. “Do you ever read those emails I send you about budget cuts? The Bureau will never agree. If they drag their feet, the President won’t authorize it. Plus she’s got no education, no qualifications and is a potential victim.”

“Our unsub’s threatened her.” His justification sounded weak even to his own ears.

“Since when do we protect people by making them employees?” Skeet scoffed. “Come up with another plan.”

The plane banked sharply to the left and began its descent. “Here’s the list we need to interview. Maddie and Harold Cox are the one’s who called us. You see them. I’ll hit the hotel they used.”

# # #

Biloxi, Mississippi

A stiff wind could have blown Maddie Cox into the next county. The frail woman with disheveled white hair patted the adjacent seat on the ancient couch and gestured for John to sit next to her.

Her husband, Harold positioned his bulk on the edge of the green and brown striped recliner. The chair protested with a groan. John couldn’t help but notice the black duct tape on the seams. Harold rested his forearms above the patches on the knees of his overalls, his worn and calloused hands clasped together.

“Tell me about your missing granddaughter.”

Maddie opened the photo album on the coffee table in front of him. Arthritis crippled her fingers. John exhaled silently, hoping their fears were unfounded. And the girl’s disappearance was what it seemed, although the tingle on the back of his neck told him a different story.

The photos showed a pretty brunette, not a homecoming queen beauty, but one that definitely fit the profile. A weight settled on the bottom of his stomach.

“Since Hurricane Katrina, jobs have been in short supply around here, but Tiffany answered an ad on one of those websites. Somebody’s list. Here, I kept a copy of it.” Maddie unfolded the paper and handed it to him.

John read. “Wanted. Athletic men and women between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two. Must be free to travel immediately. Great money. Fun and adventure awaits the right applicant with customer service skills. Imagine working on a private yacht, seeing the world in luxury and making over 100K a year. Call for phone interview.” A phone number followed.

Maddie jabbed at the paper. “She called that number, spoke to a man for quite a while, then he invited her to a group interview at the Holiday Inn.”

“What questions did they ask her?”

“Could she leave right away? Did she have responsibilities at home, which meant she couldn’t be gone for the entire year? That kind of thing.”

John schooled his face to passive. “They told her she’d be working on a private yacht and gone for a year?”

Maddie’s head bobbed. “The job provided room and board and a weekly stipend, so the girls could have some spending money. Instead of a paycheck they’d be paid in quarterly increments, which was fine with Tiffany. She wanted to save her money. They made an offer to several girls, but eliminated them if they couldn’t leave the next day. Tiffany wasn’t chosen in the first tier. When others dropped out, she was beside herself with excitement.”

Harold spoke for the first time. His deep voice rumbled, “So was Maddie.” Blotchy red patches appeared on his wife’s cheeks. “Called it a sign from God that the two men in charge had Biblical names - Cain and Elijah. But I was more suspicious. Tiffany had lots of promises, but nothing in writing. Plus she wasn’t allowed to bring a cell phone or any kind of electronic equipment like a computer. I worried about her, so I purchased a GPS tracking device and slipped it into her luggage.”

John nodded, his respect increasing for the canny older man. “What about a passport? Wasn’t that a requirement?”

“Not really. They worked with the government and had developed a fly-through system to get passports in record time.” Harold said. John made a mental note to check government records, but he doubted anything would show up.

“So what happened?”

Maddie pushed a bunch of photos across the coffee table. “We went down to the hotel to see them off. The first ten days were in San Francisco training.”

John flipped through the photos of the eight girls. The vehicle was a passenger van wrapped with an advertising banner that proclaimed the company to be Adventures Ahoy and included the number from the ad. The license plate caught his attention. Miss N. He’d seen it before - on a photo taken in Armadillo Creek.

A photo showed a man, loading luggage into the van, a suitcase shielded his face. He was burley, bigger than either Cain or Eli. Might be one of the pilots based upon Cezi’s description.

“What happened to the GPS?”

“Let me show you.” Harold pushed himself off the recliner and lumbered to the computer. He banged the mouse a couple of times and the screen saver shifted to a map of southern Mississippi and the Gulf of Mexico.

“Two hours after the van took off, we watched the GPS move from here to here.” He traced a route on the screen with a thick finger ending above the blue water.

“At first I thought the device quit working or the plane had crashed, but nothing’s been on the news. Then as I thought about it more, I wondered why would a plane headed for San Francisco be flying southwest? And why would it take off from here if the airport’s on the other side of town?”

“Can you pull back and give me coordinates on the exact route?”

From the blank look Harold gave him, John knew his question was out of the man’s expertise. John leaned over the screen to narrow the area and jotted notes.

“Two weeks after she left, we got this.” Maddie handed him a picture postcard with a photo of a cable car on a hill. John reached into his pocket to snap on a latex glove before touching the postcard.

“Having a ball. Everything’s perfect. A job came up right away, so I won’t make it home between assignments. Love, Tiffany.”

“Is this her handwriting?” he placed the card in a plastic bag, then scooped up the photos of the girls and secured them in another bag.

“Yes. But she never would have signed her whole name. Just T. Also money should have been deposited in her account every three months, but there’s been no money.”

“A second postcard arrived about a month ago. From Egypt, but the writing looks funny.

The postcard photo showed the pyramids. “Having great time. Learning so much. Miss you. Tiffany.”

Apprehension clutched his lower intestines. The letters wobbled. Had she written under stress or had it been a forgery? The fact these guys kept changing their MO made it impossible to pinpoint their next move. John hoped Skeet was getting more info from the hotel where the interviews had taken place. “What about the other parents?”

Nicholae popped three ibuprofen tablets into his mouth and took a long sip of cold water to wash down the pills. He tilted his head against the cushioned headrest and pinched the top of his nose trying to relieve the pressure across his forehead.

“Headache?”

Nicholae forced his eyes open as his brother took a seat. Before he could comment, Luca knit his brow. “I know that look. What’ve you done?”

“Sent Agent Stillwater back to DC.” He closed his eyes again, so he wouldn’t have to see his brother’s expression.

“Why?”

“
Marimé
. At lunch yesterday, a shadow fell across the table. The outsider will come between my daughter and me. He will bring government scrutiny on each of us.”

The room was silent for several minutes. “Does Poppy know?”

The creak of the chair and the shuffling of shoes had Nicholae cracking open an eyelid. Why couldn’t Luca sit instead of walking to the opposite corner of the room for coffee? He didn’t want company right now. Couldn’t his brother see that? He sighed, knowing nothing would induce Luca to leave. “I told him this morning, but he already knew. Cezi saw him last night.”

Nicholae rubbed his temples in a circular fashion trying to stop the sharp pain behind his eyes. From the other side of the desk Luca took a noisy sip. Nicholae gritted his teeth.

Luca took another sip of coffee before adding, “I’d have thought he might have expressed an opinion or two about those who interfere with prophesies.”

This was his daughter, the one person he would protect above all others. “All he said was, ‘Cezi will not be the only one having to make changes.’”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” he spat out the words. “I’m going to lose her.”

“Children grow up and leave home.” Luca’s voice was soft, tender even. “It happens. Are you worried she’ll marry the
gaje
?”

Well, there it was in a nutshell. Was he afraid she’d leave or afraid she’d marry a non-gypsy? Why wasn’t Poppy more worried? “No. Yes.” He sighed, exhaling the breath he been holding and opened his eyes. “I’m worried she’ll have to choose between
gaje
and
familiya.”