Maximum Guilt (Hidden Guilt Book 2) (11 page)

I kept moving as I spoke, trying to get to the snack machine and back to my room as quickly as possible. I wasn’t really in the mood to discuss the case in the motel lobby.

“You got any coffee?” I said.

“Over there.” She jerked her thumb toward and old-school coffeepot on a table in the corner.

“Ya know, captain, I may know something about that ol’ girl you lookin’ for.”

I turned too fast and nearly spilled my coffee. I gazed at the woman, trying to read her. What could she possibly know about Stacy?

“When they showed her picture on the news as a person of interest, I recognized her right off.”

“Well . . . yes, ma’am, I appreciate any information you can give me. But if her identity is all you can offer, we already know who she is.”

“Well, hell! I know you know who she is! What I’m talking ’bout is something you might not know.”

I walked over to the counter to listen. She reminded me of my grandmother. Maybe a few cards lighter upstairs, but all the same . . . She stood about five feet nothing and was skinny as a toothpick. Her gray hair hung in limp pigtails down both sides of her head. Her leathery face was aged way beyond her years, which I guesstimated to be seventy or so.

“You’ve got my full attention, Mrs. . . .”

“It’s Miss Romero,” she said.

I still wasn’t sure if she was pulling my leg or if she really had something concrete to share. But I’d come this far, and the coffee wasn’t half bad. Might as well hear her out.

“Before I stared workin’ here, I used to be a janitor at one of the high schools in New Orleans. Coupla years after her uncle’s place burned down, two men turned up dead ’bout the same fashion as these new murders you got now.”

“I understand. Why do you believe the cops hadn’t thought about that already?”

“They probably don’t know they connected, but I do. For one, they wasn’t here; they was in Alabama and few months apart. Real sloppy work.”

“And what makes you think Lisa was involved with those? If they were in Alabama, how would you even know about them?”

“I’ve said all I’m gonna say, unless you can do something for me.”

I hadn’t expected the shift in focus or the what-can-you-do-for-me card, but I was willing to play her game a little bit longer.

“Well, is there anything you had in mind? Anything you need? And I can only give you something if this information pans out.”

“Oh, it’ll pan out. I got a . . . let’s just say, a really good friend doin’ a nickel on a drug charge over some li’l ol’ Mary Jane. Think you can get him out anytime soon?”

“That’s quite the request, Miss Romero. How long has he been in?”

“A few months now. Three-time offender, too. I know that don’t help none, either.”

“It’ll take some time for me to pull it off, and I’ll need something really good from you.”

“Why does this case mean so much to you anyway? You all the way from Houston chasing this girl don’t make a whole lot of sense to me.”

One of the things I’d learned growing up was to never judge a book by its cover. Many of my
esteemed
colleagues probably wouldn’t have given this woman the time of day. But I was rolling the dice, and maybe, just maybe, she had something I could use. A lot of cops didn’t like to admit it but profiling was indeed a problem within our ranks. Sure it had its uses but like everything else in life too much of anything is usually a recipe for disaster.

“I’m not making any promises. Tell me what you know.”

“Okay. Well, one day I was cleaning one of the stalls. Another janitor had borrowed my cart, so it wasn’t outside the restroom door. In other words, no one suspected I’d be inside. In comes Lisa, her sister Brittany, and another girl. They thought the restroom was empty, I guess, ’cuz they start talkin’ ’bout the two murders in Alabama. I mean, why they did it and how after that moment it would never be discussed again. I bet you’ll find those cases are still open.”

I’ll be damned – my heart raced I was in complete shock and disbelief. Sweat started to seep through my skin. What were the chances that some random old woman at a motel in the middle of BFE would help me with a case that I had to solve?

“I must say I am quite taken aback and impressed. How did you manage to go unnoticed? If what you’re saying is true, they would have killed you had they found you there.”

“I was deathly still. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I haven’t told a soul since that day—not one person on earth. I’m not really even sure why I’m telling you now. But you seem kinda desperate. Trading goods is a way of life here in the swamp, detective. So you gonna help me?”

“Why didn’t you go to the authorities?”

“Didn’t wanna get involved. It’s not really my style. Like I said, looks like you could use some help, though,” she said pointing to my inside-out shirt.

“People like you are the reason police officers solve cases. I do have a really important question that you have yet to speak on. Who was the third girl in the restroom that day?”

“You’re getting’ ahead of yourself, sonny. Don’t you even wanna know why they killed them ol’ boys in Bama?”

I was happy to be getting this information, but I didn’t want to scare her off. I was willing to play her game, at least for the time being.

“Did the girls discuss that? I don’t imagine they were there very long.”

“Only a few minutes, and one girl did most of the talking.”

“Lisa?”

“No, never heard a peep from her or her sister Brittany. Nope, the ringleader was a girl named Marci Wingup. She did all the talkin’. Really smart girl, from what I gathered. She said, ‘I guess we taught those monsters a lesson.’ She also said they had to learn all they could ’bout killing, ’cuz they couldn’t be so careless the next time. About then, someone tugged on the door. Two of ’em hid in stalls, and one of them slowly opened the door and peeked out before disappearing.”

“Miss Romero, this is fascinating information. I will work on helping your friend after I do some research on these Alabama murders.”

So they had not only killed their uncle but two other rapists in Alabama a decade earlier. If the details matched up with Miss Romero’s story, I’d bend over backward to get her friend out of jail. I also started to wonder if they’d pulled off other murders across the country that had never been linked together or solved.

“I’m going back to my room to work on this. Thanks for the info and the coffee. Looks like I’ll be around here a bit longer than I’d planned.”

“Like I said, you aint botherin’ me. Fryin’ some gator here in a little while. Come up ’round noon and get you a plate.”

“I will, thank you.”

Nothing better than a home-cooked meal. Lord knows I could use it. And Cajun food just happened to be one of my favorites.

Chapter 21

I walked back to my room, punching in Captain Wilcrest’s number on my way.

“David, glad you called. It’s been a few days. Things couldn’t be more unsettled here. I met your detective friend Lafitte earlier. I’m actually headed to the crime scene now. I thought you’d call me sooner. I’ve tried you a few times now.”

“Yeah, I needed Lafitte and De Luca there to work the scene. We need to catch up with her before she kills again. And I got your calls. I’m knee-deep in the middle of this thing right now, and I got a lot at stake.”

“Her? Her who? And I know what you got riding on this. Chief wants an update. We have a meeting here shortly to discuss it all. He’s nervous about having you on this case.”

“Brittany Foy. That’s her name. Stacy’s little sister. I’ll fill you in on everything I know for your meeting with the chief.
Wouldn’t want him mad at me.

Right now I didn’t give two shits about who may be mad at me. The number one priority was getting Karen back.

“How the hell do you know that she’s Stacy’s sister?”

“The BF on the wall. I’m one hundred percent certain it’s Brittany Foy. What I don’t know is why they targeted the Blakes. They usually only go after guys who’ve committed some crime toward women. Neither of those guys have anything on record. Still doesn’t mean they were clean, though. But I’m working on it.”

“Anything else you want to tell me about what’s going on here in Houston when you’re a couple hundred miles away?”

“Hey, it’s what you pay me for, right? And I may be onto something big. I mean
really
bi
g—
bigger than I ever could’ve imagined. I have some research to do, but we may have a third murderer running with these two. The three of them may actually be linked to several other murders around the country. I’m starting to think they got some goddamn group of vigilante rape victims.”

“I bet you know her name, too.”

“Yes, but I don’t know if it’s accurate. It’s all speculation right now. I have a pretty good hunch about where Stacy’s headed. I’m still working out the details on intercepting her or making an attempt to. My first priority is getting Karen back in my arms again.”

“We’ll work the cases in Houston. We can talk later tonight or first thing in the morning and exchange info.”

I tossed my phone aside, grabbed my laptop, and dug in. I started with a background check on Marci Wingup. Same high school as the sisters, same age. Then something jumped right out of the laptop at me: valedictorian.  I also came across a file containing an image, a picture of Marci. Marci was smart—really smart—and beautiful. Kind of girl who could probably get whatever she wanted by batting her eyelashes. And she had a clean record. Not one single blemish. Not even a goddamn speeding ticket.

I grabbed my cell phone and called Fingers.

“Hey, it’s me. Porter.”

“Whatcha need, Davie? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

“The middle of something legal or illegal? Listen, I need you to research something for me. Start from twenty years ago to now, looking for murders of rapists. They would have been nasty, violent crimes—cut up, dismembered. Nothing in connection with drug cases or gang related.”

“You want rapists or sex offenders?”

“All of the above. Pull some case info on each of the hits you get. I’ll do the rest; I know what I’m looking for. Email me the info when you get it.”

I hung up and returned to my search for info on Miss Wingup. If I got lucky, I’d find a current address; that’s what I really wanted. But if she was as smart as I thought she was, she’d be using an alias. That would make her a hell of a lot harder to find.

I did an image search. After scrolling through thirty-plus pages, I finally found an old picture. I recognized Stacy—Lisa at that point in time. The other two? Brittany Foy and Marci Wingup. I’d bet my life on it. Only God knew what either of them looked like now.

My phone rang. It was Fingers.

“Give it to me,” I said.

“You aren’t going to believe this.”

“Believe what? Tell me, goddamn it!” I said, raising my voice so high it cracked.

“I said you won’t believe it, so I’ll just show you. Check your email.”

The phone went silent. My laptop beepe
d—
incoming mail. I opened the file and stared at the screen in amazement.

It was starting to look like the old bat wasn’t crazy after all. Her lead had checked out, and what Fingers had just emailed me was a game changer.

Chapter 22

As usual, HPD headquarters was a madhouse. The hustle and bustle of the hundreds of officers on the force was ever present. The phones never stopped ringing; it sounded more like a call center than a police station.

Captain Wilcrest strode down the hallway toward the elevators. He had a one thirty meeting with Chief Hill, and he knew promptness was of utmost concern to the chief. He’d sent guys home for being one minute late to a meeting.

As Wilcrest reached the elevator, two other detectives piled in with him.

“Heard you got a date with the chief,” one of the men said.

“Yeah, just filling him in on Porter’s case is all,” Wilcrest said.

The detectives’ faces told a different story.

“What’s that look for?” Wilcrest said.

“Well, I heard he wants to pull Porter off the case. You know he shouldn’t be on it. Hits too close to home,” the detective said.

The elevator stopped, and Wilcrest held the door open as he stepped out. “Yeah, and you know there was no way in hell me, Chief, or anyone else was going to stop him. Badge or no badge, he would have gone after this girl.”

He hurried down the hall, dodging one cop after another. He reached the chief’s office with two minutes to spare.

“Come on in; it’s open.”

Chief Hill was a tall, lean, clean-cut man who didn’t bullshit around. Ever. He’d been chief for ten years and on the force three times as long. He was fair but short on patience. He seemed to like Wilcrest, and the two had never had a falling out before.