Maximum Guilt (Hidden Guilt Book 2) (13 page)

“I won’t let you down, sir.”

“You know anything else about this
RKC
and how they choose their targets?”

RKC. Chief had given them a name.

“I know a lot more about them. It’s too early to tell if all these women are targeting men who actually raped them or not. That’s what I’m leaning toward, though. If that is the case, it makes our suspect list in the low nineties. Maybe they started out that way, found they actually enjoyed it, and are now targeting any male convicted of a sex crime. These women have become judge, jury, and executioner—literally. Personally, I don’t believe cutting off the head is going to kill this monster. And when they find out we’re onto them, then what? Do they crank up their killing spree or lay low and go into hiding for some undisclosed amount of time?”

“Houston is one of the largest metropolitan areas in the world. When you add in the suburbs—Pearland, Katy, Alvin, Angleton, Galveston, Sugarland, The Woodlands, Pasadena, all less than an hour away—it may be the biggest. We needed a Major Crimes Division, and after studying everything you’ve accomplished, you’re definitely the right man for the job, Detective Porter. If anyone can wrangle up the brass of this RKC wickedness, you can. And if not, God help us all.”

Chapter 25

I shut down my laptop and disconnected from the call. Major Crimes Division. I’ll be damned. My parents had always taught me that if I worked my hardest and did everything like my life depended on it, good things would happen for me. And this seemed pretty damn good.

While I had a second, I wanted to call Miranda and fill her in on my bittersweet news.

“Honey?” I said.

“Hey there, handsome,” Miranda whispered.

“You sound sleepy. Did I wake you?”

“I was only taking a nap. I’m glad you called. I can’t sleep for very long. I just keep thinking about Karen.”

“I’m about to leave the motel and head for Stacy’s grandmother’s. I believe that’s where she’s taking Karen. I don’t think she intends to harm her; in fact, I’m almost certain of it. I discovered Stacy is a member of a group of women who are hunting one target: rapists.”

“I hope you’re right. But after what she did to me, I believe she’s capable of anything.”

“I know, honey. I’m sorry. Talked to the chief a bit ago.”

“That’s odd, isn’t it? What did he want?”

“He offered me a promotion.”

“A promotion? Did you apply for another position in the department?”

“No. He said Houston needed a Major Crimes Division and promoted me to captain and asked me to lead it.”

“Oh my God, David! That’s great news! I’m so proud of you. How long before you become chief?”

We shared a laugh, the first in quite a while. I loved my wife. She supported me through thick and thin. She was my right-hand man, so to speak.  We talked for a minute longer, and then I let her get back to her nap. But knowing Miranda, I’d probably ruined that for her. Her mind would be racing, filled with thoughts of me and my new position. More than anything, I’m sure she’d be thinking about Karen, becoming more and more nervous about me getting her back home safe and sound.

Chapter 26

Stacy was about twenty minutes from her Grammy’s house. So far, everything was going according to plan. She wanted to get this over with and get back to her hunting. Sexual predators were everywhere, and she needed to do her part to get rid of them. Every two seconds a woman in the United States, the freest country in the world, was raped.

“Karen, honey, wake up,” Stacy said, shaking Karen’s arm.

“We’re almost to my Grammy’s house. It’s going to be so much fun.”

Stacy knew it would be anything but that, once her plans for Karen were carried out. It wouldn’t be long now.

“Are we going to see my dad at your Grammy’s?”

Stacy looked over fake smile and all.

“I believe he’s coming tonight,” Stacy said, lying with ease, as always. “I need to make a few calls. Can you give me a minute, dear?”

Stacy grabbed her phone and placed a call.

“I’m almost to Grammy’s! Why are you calling me?” Brittany hissed. “I thought you said we wouldn’t talk again until after we arrived?”

“Hey, friend. Just making sure everything is still on schedule?”

“Yes, it is. See you in ten,” Brittany said before hanging up the phone.

The car turned off the main road and Stacy turned onto another dirt road. They could hardly see in front of them as clouds of dust kicked up around them. Swamp surrounded the road as far as the eye could see. About a mile in, the road split into three, and Stacy instinctively went to the far right. After another mile, the road went from shell to dirt.

“Almost there, Karen.”

“Where are we?”

“Deep in the swamp, dear. New Orleans, Louisiana. You’re going to love it here.”

After a series of twists and turns, an old but rather large two-story house appeared in the distance.

“There it is! Can you see it?”

Karen nodded but didn’t say a word. The house looked kind of spooky to her.

As she pulled up in front of the house, Stacy noticed Brittany’s car parked in the driveway.
Nice ride she’d gotten her hands on
, she thought.

The house was surrounded on three sides by swampy marshland. Huge trees covered the yard, and moss hung from the treetops all the way to the ground. A light fog covered the yard, and the croak of bullfrogs rang out.

As the car door closed, a woman emerged onto the porch.

“Grammy!” Stacy called out and walked over to her for a hug.

The woman didn’t respond. She stared at Karen with cold, steel-gray eyes and never seemed to blink. She wore a red flannel shirt and dirty jeans, her weathered hands fisted on her hips.

She walked right past Stacy and snatched Karen by the arm, almost dragging her into the house. Stacy said nothing as she hurried behind.

“Ouch! You’re hurting my arm!” Karen squealed in dismay.

The old woman said nothing.

“I’m scared, Stacy,” Karen said over her shoulder.

Stacy looked away, still silent.

Before Karen knew it, the woman had taped her hands together behind her back. Next, she wrapped tape around Karen’s mouth. Karen squirmed but it was no use. The woman led Karen further into the house. She reached the basement door and kicked it open.

When Karen looked into the room, she could see candles—hundreds of them. A goat walked back and forth in the back corner. The woman pushed Karen onto the damp floor.

Brittany walked over to a radio and hit
Play
. Haitian voodoo chants filled the room. The old woman grabbed a bag of flour propped against the wall and spread it around Karen as she lay on the floor.

“Stacy!” Karen yelled through the tape as tears pour down her face.

Suddenly, the old woman began to chant along with the radio, twirling and bending as she danced her way around Karen.

Brittany beat out the rhythm on a drum.

Soon, Stacy was dancing and chanting, too. She picked up a giant knife laying on the floor and walked over and grabbed the goat with her other hand.

Karen’s body trembled.

Stacy dragged the goat over next to Karen.. The old woman put one hand on the goat’s back and touched Karen with the other hand. Stacy drew back the butcher knife and, with one swing, cut the goat’s head off clean.

Karen screamed, but the other three remained steady, emotionless. The music grew louder and faster as blood spewed everywhere. The old woman rubbed her hands in the warm blood and then smeared it over Karen’s body.

Brittany stopped playing the drum and joined in with the chanting and dancing.

Stacy knew it wouldn’t be long and Karen would be changed forever.

Chapter 27

I loaded my computer equipment and clothes into my truck as quickly as I could. Stacy had a few hours head start on me, if she was indeed heading toward her grandmother’s. Something about the woman’s story had seemed a little rehearsed, the more I thought about it. Almost too perfectly imperfect, if that makes any sense. Like she was expecting my call and was doing her best to play along.

As I hurried along the interstate, I looked around my truck for Lafitte’s swamp guide. From the maps I’d seen, her grandmother’s house looked pretty isolated. As my luck would have it, it wasn’t going to be easy to find. The goddamn house was right in the middle of the bayou. Whoever built it sure as hell didn’t want to be easily located.

I finally found the number and punched it in.

“Hello? Who the hell is this?”

“Uh . . . this is Detective David Porter HPD and—”

“Yeah okay. What the hell do you want?”

“Hey, bud, did I catch you on the wrong side of today or something? Looking for Randy Landry.”

“Listen pal . . .”

“No,
you
listen. I’m on official police business. Paul Lafitte told me you could be of service, but so far all—”

“Whoa, man. Why didn’t you say you were Lafitte’s friend in the beginning?”

What the hell was wrong with this guy?

“Okay, next time I’ll know. So here’s what I got. I need to get to an address, but the place is buried in the middle of this godforsaken swamp. It’ll take me two days to find it on my own, and I’ve got less than two hours, I imagine. Can you help me or not?”

“Yup. Sure can. He tell you my fee, buddy?”

Fee? I should have known Paul would conveniently forget to mention that part.

“Name your price.”

“Just foolin’, friend. No fee.”

I told Lafitte’s friend I’d meet him right where the map showed the road branched off in three directions. Without a guide from there, I’d be alligator dinner for certain.

I arrived at the meeting spot and looked around. I heard a loud whooshing noise and looked up in search of what I suspected was an incoming helicopter. I saw what appeared to be an airboat off in the distance. And then, just like that, he was there.

“You Porter?” the man said, shutting off the engine.

“Yeah! Randy?”

“Yup that’s me. Well, get the hell on! Let’s go!”

“What in the bloody hell is this, a goddamn airboat deluxe?”

“Aww shit, this old thing? A Cajun helicopter, my friend. A must-have out here in these swamps.”

“Well, I don’t want these people to know I’m coming. This contraption is rather loud.”
Hell, who am I kidding? It was louder than anything I’d ever heard.

“Don’t worry, we’ll go a little ways in this, and then we can take my pirogue the rest of the way.”

Great. Go from this oversized airboat to a POS canoe? I just nodded and along we went. Karen and I were both regular watchers of
Swamp People
, but after this I’d have a whole new appreciation. This was some rough going.

We rode for a few minutes, and before long I noticed Randy pointing ahead to a brushy area. He shut the engine off and we drifted until I saw the pirogue come into view on the banks. This idea sounded worse with each passing second.

“Alright, Captain, let’s get this pirogue going.”

“If you insist.”

We tied the airboat off. Randy wrapped a chain around a tree and threw some locks on it.

“This won’t keep anyone who really wants it from taking off with her, but this here’s the thickest chain you can find. It’d take ’em a while to get through it. Reckon we’ll be back before anybody could make off with her.”

“Yeah, I don’t plan on making myself at home here.”

We pushed the tiny, canoe-like boat into the swamp and got in. This definitely was a bad idea. Two big men and a really tiny boat.

“Hey, it’s worth mentioning that this thing will flip over on us if we move wrong. You can swim, right?”

“No shit. I’ve got couches at home that are bigger than this thing. And yes, I can swim, but I don’t swim faster that alligators.”

“Speaking of gators, I can smell one. A big ’un, too.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Hell no, I ain’t kiddin’. And if I see it, we gon’ take his ass down.”

“Listen here, Troy Landry—”

“Ahhh. You watch
Swamp People
, too? No relation if you’re wondering.”

“Yes, but right now the only thing I want to catch is Stacy so I can get my daughter back. Can we focus?”

“So this crazy bitch got your daughter? You really gotta work on giving me all the details up front, bud.”