Maximum Guilt (Hidden Guilt Book 2) (10 page)

“I guess you’re right, Porter. We’ll do it,” Lafitte said.

De Luca was staring out of the window, none too pleased with my new strategy. I understood where she was coming from, though. Stacy had kidnapped her and held her hostage. Her interest was personal.

“Doesn’t feel right,” De Luca said.

“Trust me, I’d rather have the two of you here with me. It doesn’t feel right to me either, but it’s the best play. Lafitte, I’m taking the two of you to the nearest car rental place I can find. Get to Houston and find Brittany Foy.”

Chapter 18

Funny thing how we meet people in life. You marry this person, who knows that person, who introduces you to these people. I knew it would only be a matter of time before Lafitte moved to Houston or HPD lost De Luca to New Orleans. The writing was on the wall. They both played tough, but I could feel it. And now that I’d sent them off to hunt down Brittany Foy, they’d have some one-on-one time to get to know each other a little better. Wasn’t my intention. Just kind of how it all seemed to play itself out.

Hunger and fatigue had begun to overwhelm me. Both were evil necessities that dearly needed my attention. But how could I possibly sleep with this much going on and so many unanswered questions? I couldn’t, and it was catching up with me fast.

I drove on as nighttime set in around me. The beady yellow eyes of gators and other swamp creatures lit up the bayous as I drove I-10 East toward New Orleans. Even at night this was beautiful country. My eyes got heavy as the loneliness set in and my tiredness grew. Just as I started to nod off, my cell phone rang.

“Porter.”

“Hey, honey. It’s me.”

I shook the cobwebs off. “Miranda! Hey, baby, how are you? I called you earlier but you were sleeping.”

“Yes, Hilary told me. I’m okay; I really am. Did she tell you I was thinking about going back to work? David, I can’t just sit here every day feeling sorry for myself. I’ve also thought about helping Tim Miller and EquuSearch. Maybe not on Karen’s case, but I want to help another parent if I can. This is terrible, David. I feel so powerless.”

Tim Miller’s daughter had been abducted from our area many years ago. I wasn’t an officer then, but the case gained national headlines and it stuck with me. He started EquuSearch as a result of his daughter’s kidnapping. They’ve really helped a lot of families find closure—one way or the other.

“No need to explain. I get it. I’d drive myself crazy, too, just sitting around. I think getting involved with Tim and his team is a great idea. If you’re ready, I mean. It’s going to make you think of Karen a lot.”

“I know, but I’ve got to do something. Besides, I don’t think I could think of her more than I already do. She’s on my mind every single moment. So . . . how are you? You sound tired.”

She knew me all too well.

“I am tired—exhausted, to tell the truth. I can’t even tell you the last time I slept.  And now we got these murders popping up in Houston, too.”

“Yeah, it’s been all over the news. They’re trying to make a connection, but they can’t.”

“I have. I know who’s committing those murders. As a matter of fact, I sent Lafitte and De Luca back to Houston a few hours ago to track her down.”

“Her? Stacy? How?”

“No, Stacy’s sister, Brittany. Keep it to yourself. No exposé, missy!”

“Of course not. I know it’s ongoing. How’d you guys figure out so much already?”

“Like I said, I haven’t slept in days. All my focus has been on this.”

“I hope my baby girl . . . God, I can’t even go there.”

“I know. It makes me sick to my stomach every time I think about Stacy being alone with her. I’m doing my best to treat this case like I would any other, but in my heart . . . I’m going to find her and bring her home safe and sound!”

“I know you will, David. I believe in you. I love you.”

“I’m turning off here. I’ve got to shut it down for a few hours and refuel this old body of mine.”

“Yes, please do. Get some rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Don’t worry about us; we’re fine here.”

“Good night, Miranda Porter. I love you, too.”

If I drove much longer, I knew what would happen. I’m a habitual drowsy driver. I hate myself for it, but I accept the character flaw for what it is. I also remember that admitting you have a problem is step one. I’d come really close to driving off the road more than a few times. Not to mention I’d drifted into oncoming traffic more times than I cared to admit.

I pulled into a run-down Motel Six. I didn’t care how the placed looked. I needed a bed and some running water, nothing more. As I walked into the lobby—if you could call it that—I noticed the place was dead. Really dead. There was a bell on the desk and a sign suggesting I ring for service. I hit it a few times and waited. A TV played across the lobby, broadcasting what appeared to be a late-night rerun of the local news.

Five minutes went by and no one came. I hit the bell a few more times, hoping someone would wake up and get me checked in. Finally an old woman flung open a door and walked toward the counter.

“You want a room?” the old woman barked in a strong Cajun dialect.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said as politely as possible.

“What the hell you doin’ out so late, anyways? Aint you got no wife at home?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do. But I’m traveling for work right now.”

“Yeah, I bet,” the woman said, glancing out toward my truck.

“Your work out in your truck waiting on you?”

It was then I realized she thought I was getting a room for myself and some company. The place was a shit hole, and the guests she got were probably here for that very reason, more often than not.

“No, ma’am. I’m actually a police officer,” I said, flashing my badge.

“What the hell does that mean? You bastards are the worst ones. I get more of you than anything else. Listen, just give me your damn credit card.”

I was too tired to argue. I handed her my card. I glanced over at the TV in time to see
Police hunting female serial killer
flash across the screen in big letters.

“That what you here for?”

“Well . . . yes and no. Kind of.”

“Well either you are or you ain’t. And where you from? You’re not from here.”

“No, ma’am. I’m from Houston.”

“So you some big-time Houston cop, huh? You here to help us small-timers out? Show us how it’s done?”

“Not at all. It’s a long story, actually. And you wouldn’t believe it if I told you, so I won’t. You have a good night.”

I took the key from her and walked back out to my truck. Grouchy old hag, she was. She seemed like a straight shooter, though, which I liked. Maybe it was the detective in me, but I preferred brutal honesty to beating around the bush.

I drove around to my room, grabbed my bags, and went inside.

Shit hole was right. The place was a dump. I guess I shouldn’t have expected much for thirty-nine dollars. I sent Miranda a text telling her I was off the road and getting some sleep so she wouldn’t worry.

I wanted to spend a few minutes working the case now that I was alone. I sat down on the bed and fired up my laptop. As it booted up, I struggled to keep my eyes open. Any work I tried to do now would be counterproductive. I shut my computer, plugged it in to charge, and went to sleep.

Chapter 19

I rolled over to grab my cell phone as the alarm clock sounded: five-thirty a.m. If I slept later than five-thirty, I felt guilty. Guess that was a result of my stint in the military and college athletics. The motto “We do more before 6 a.m. than most people do all day” wasn’t far from the truth. Not far at all.

I grabbed my laptop. Time to see if I could get any closer to hunting Stacy down. I’d played with the idea of calling Stacy’s grandmother, since I had a hunch she was heading that way. I hadn’t decided whether I wanted to beat her there and wait or whether she was ahead of me. That probably depended upon whether or not she stopped for another kill along the way. I had also toyed with the idea of putting surveillance on her grandmother’s home, but I didn’t want to chance Stacy sniffing it out. If she suspected anything out of the ordinary and bailed on me, I might never find her or my baby girl.

I grabbed my cell phone and thumbed Lafitte’s number.

“Paul, I pulled up a map to Stacy’s grandmother’s place. I’m thinking I’ll need someone to help navigate back there.  Looks like it’s right in the middle of the goddamn swamp. From what I gather there’s only one way in or out. You got anyone you can hook me up with?”

“Guess we skipping all the pleasantries today?”

“Sorry, Paul. Got ahead of myself, buddy. How are you and De Luca doing? Anything yet?”

“De Luca and I are doing quite well. By this time next year, she’ll be Mrs. Paul Lafitte. And yes, I got somebody who can get you back there. His name is Randy Landry.”

“I meant how are you doing with the case? And give me his number.”

“We got in late last night. We’re diving in today with a visit to the crime scene. Then we’ll start chasing leads. 504.555.7685.”

“I’ll give him a call in a few hours. Thanks. Keep me posted.”

I disconnected with Lafitte and decided to call Miss Patty Jones. It was closing in on seven a.m., and old people never slept that late anyway, or so I reasoned.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

“Good morning, Miss Jones. This is Detective Porter from the Houston Police Department.”

“Am I expecting your call, son? I don’t have any business in Houston. I think you have the wrong number.”

“No, ma’am, you don’t know me, but I need to ask you a few questions about your granddaughter, Sta . . . I mean, Lisa.”

The phone went silent.

I cleared my throat. “Hello? Miss Jones, are you still with me?”

“Yes, I’m here. Listen, I haven’t seen or spoken to Lisa in nearly fifteen years, son. I’m not sure how much help I can be.”

“I understand, but I’d like to try, if that’s okay with you. I also have reason to believe she might be paying you a visit soon. It’s just a hunch.”

She raised her voice an octave. “I did everything I could for Lisa and her sister, Brittany. Raised ’em both like they was my own, when they’d have me. Hard seein’ them up and leave. They never call or come see me. She’s okay, right?”

My radar was pinging off the wall; her answers came fast and seemed a bit too perfect. “She’s alive and well, ma’am. I’m sorry she doesn’t contact you, Miss Jones. I need to call my grandmothers more often, too. We can be pretty selfish at times.”             

“Not your fault, son. So, is my Lisa in some kind of trouble?”

“I’d just like to ask her a few questions is all. No trouble yet.” 

“Like I said, I haven’t seen her in many years. Slim chance she’ll show up all of a sudden, detective.”

“What can you tell me about her uncle’s house burning down?”

“Not really much to say. Lisa did it. We all know that much. Can’t say that I blame her. Joe messed with both of them little girls. Got what he had coming, if you ask me.”

“So if everyone thinks Lisa did it, why isn’t she behind bars?”

“You not very sharp for a detective. You do the math on when that happened? Lisa and her sister were both still minors; plus, they couldn’t find one shred of evidence suggesting either of them did it.”

“I understand. It’s very important that I talk to Lisa. If you hear from her, please call my cell.” I rattled off my number.

“All them girls been through, I’m amazed it’s taken ’em this long to find some trouble. If she calls or shows up should I tell her to contact you?”

That was a million-dollar question if I’d ever heard one.

“Yes ma’am. Please let her know that I need to ask her a few questions. Thank you.”

I hung up. I didn’t believe a word she said.

Chapter 20

I went through some files and even spent time looking over the pictures Lafitte and De Luca were uploading from Carl Blake’s murder in Houston. Hunger pangs made my stomach growl as my body reminded me that I hadn’t eaten anything worthwhile in several days.

I threw on some clothes and headed for the lobby. Maybe I’d find a snack machine or something to hold me over. As I approached the door, I spied the old woman who’d checked me in the night before.

“Still here, huh?” she said as I walked in.

“Only for a little bit longer. I’ve got a few more leads to follow up on, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Oh you ain’t botherin’ me none. First time a cop’s done any actual police work here in a long time. You really think you gonna catch that ol’ girl here in these swamps?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to try. I got a lot riding on it.”