Rowan Gant - Perfect Trust Part 27

"Nope. Another copper is droppin' by for somethin'. Charlee McLaughlin, you probably remember her," he said.

"Sure," I nodded. "I remember Charlee."

Detective McLaughlin had been a.s.signed to the Major Case Squad earlier this year when Eldon Porter had engaged in his one-man revival of the inquisition. I had gotten to know her when she had volunteered to work a secondary job guarding Felicity and me after it became obvious that I was one of Porter's targets.

"So, you gonna tell me what's up?" he pressed.

"I would if I knew, Ben."

"And that's's'posed to mean?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "I didn't actually set out to come here. It's just where I ended up."

"Where'd you start out for?"

"You don't want to know."

"Jeez, Row." He shook his head. "What're you up to now?"

"I wish I knew," I answered him. "Something just doesn't feel right about everything that's been going on."

"Yeah, well, that's not exactly news white man."

"No, that's not what I mean." I shook my head vigorously. "Ever since Friday night..."

"Whoa." Ben held up a hand to stop me. "If this is about the phone call, I already told ya' I'm not goin' there."

"It's not about that," I stammered my objection. "Not really... Well, maybe... A little... But not entirely... I've just got a weird feeling. It's been way too quiet for the past couple of days."

"What? Like no disturbances in the Twilight Zone?" He followed up his commentwith an abbreviated whistle of the old TV show's opening theme.

"Something like that."

"Yeah, so?" He shrugged. "In my book, quiet's good."

"But it's been TOO quiet."

"You sure you're not just lettin' your imagination run away on ya' ?"

"I don't think so. Not this time."

"So, you got somethin' to work with?" he asked with more than just a hint of sincerity in his query this time. "One of those hinky visions? Some more morbid Seussian poetry? Anything?"

"No. Not at the moment. Like I said, it's been quiet. This is just a feeling."

"That doesn't really help me, Row."

"I know, Ben. It doesn't exactly help me either."

"Hey, Chief," a voice came from behind me.

"Yo, Chuck," Ben returned, looking past me. "How's s.e.x Crimes treatin' ya?

Gettin' any?"

"More than you, would be my guess," Detective Charlee McLaughlin joked as she came into view. "And I'm being treated about as well as a s.e.x crime can treat anyone I suppose." With that she turned her attention to me. "Hey, Rowan. I didn't know you were here. How're you doing?"

"I'm good, Charlee," I acknowledged. "You?"

"Can't complain."

"How's your daughter doing?" I asked, almost grateful for the sudden distraction the chitchat provided.

"Great. She's planning to transfer up to Columbia after the spring semester."

"Terrific. Still planning to major in Journalism?"

"Yep. That's the plan."

"Good deal."

"So what brings you down here?" she asked, and then continued with a good-natured chuckle. "Storm dragging you into something else he can't figure out?"

"Hey now," Ben interjected with a grin, "I'm not the one that transferred out of Homicide to go slummin' in Vice."

"I just got tired of seein' your ugly face every morning, Storm," she told him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he waved her off, "so what brings you up here?"

"Chasing a hunch, actually." She turned serious. "You got a minute?"

"Do you two need me to leave?" I asked.Ben gave Detective McLaughlin a questioning look, and she shook her head.

"No, just don't repeat anything you hear."

"Of course not."

"Then grab some real estate," Ben said as he motioned to another of the seventies era plastic chairs that was positioned next to a desk behind her. "Whatcha' got?"

"Rumor is," she began as she slid the seat over and parked her small frame in it, "you've got a dead blonde with a stun gun welt on her neck."

"Yeah," my friend nodded acknowledgement. "Looks like a robbery-a.s.sault gone south. What about it?"

"Well, I a.s.sume you've been watching the news and have heard about the serial rapist?"

"Yeah. Kinda hard to miss. You workin' that one?"

"Yeah, I'm up to my a.s.s in it. Anyway, we've been playing some of the facts close to the vest." She looked him square in the face. "And, like I said, this is just a hunch... But the deal is, as of this past Thursday morning I've got eight very confused, very blonde, rape victims. All of 'em with stun gun welts, and testing positive for Roofies."

Detective Benjamin Storm's chair canted forward with a slow rumble; sliding smoothly along with the groan of the springs beneath until all motion finally halted.

The inevitable stop was announced with a dull thunk, followed immediately by the proverbial pregnant pause. He shot me a quick glance then leveled his gaze on McLaughlin.

"Don't make me wait till tomorrow to open the present, Chuck," he said. "Tell me you got this a.s.shole in lockup."

"Actually," she said, "I was kinda hoping for a stocking stuffer from you."

"s.h.i.+t," Ben muttered. "You got anything at all?"

"Well, we've been lucky and gotten some of these right away. Seems he doesn't bother with condoms and he's a secretor, so we've got blood type and the whole DNA pedigree. But I don't have a warm body to hang the dog tags on."

"That's more than we've got. You chasin' any good leads?"

"Haven't got much. He's apparently got a kink about necks though."

"How's that?"

"s.h.i.+thead sucks hickeys on these women the size of Rhode Island. Guys down in s.e.x Crimes are calling him 'The Rapist Lestat.'"

"f.u.c.kin' lovely."

"Yeah, tell that to the victims."

"You got anything else? Any of 'em able to give you a description?""Nope," she sat back and shook her head, s.h.i.+fting in the uncomfortable seat.

"Not really. Like I said, Roofies. Outta the eight, five of them went to the hospital within the first forty-eight hours, and they all tested positive. We're guessing it would be the same on the other three, but they didn't come forward right away. Lab says they can probably pick up trace amounts in hair if we have to go that route.

"All of 'em pretty much remember gettin' zapped. Apparently he's got this stun gun jacked up pretty good, and it's kinda hard to forget getting hit with one of those.

Anyhow, after that they're pretty sketchy until they wake up."

"How's he get to them? B and E?"

"Only on one." She shook her head. "So far he's grabbed three of them from parking lots at shopping malls, two when they were leaving their places of employment, one that was jogging, and another who was leaving a doctor's appointment. Now, here's the spooky part. He's keeping them for a while."

"Whaddaya mean keeping them?"

"I mean all of them are missing anywhere from twenty-four to forty-eight hours out of their lives."

"So he's gotta be takin' 'em somewhere," Ben mused.

"That's how we're looking at it."

"Is there any connection there?" Ben pressed. "Where are they waking up? Is he dumpin' 'em in the same general area?"

"Check this out," she said. "The a.s.shole is taking these women home."

"You mean like home, home?"

"Yeah, as in takes them back to their respective domiciles and leaves 'em. Locks the door and everything. Even leaves the keys in the mailbox."

"No way."

"Yeah way. It's like he doesn't want 'em to get hurt or anything."

"Except by him."

"Well, yes and no. I'm not trying to diminish the crime here by any means, but we're not talking a typical rape scenario. There's no real physical abuse to speak of, other than the stun gun and the hickeys. Very non-violent statistically. We're guessing that's why he uses the Roofies on them."

"Bizzarre," Ben replied.

"Yeah, that's what I said," Charlee acknowledged with a knowing tilt of her head.

"Any patterns we can do somethin' with?"

"We've run it all. Common acquaintances, ex-husbands and boyfriends, the whole nine yards. What we've got is that they're all blonde, around five-four, five-five, good looking. Ages range from twenty-two to forty-one."

"Just City, or County too?""That's another squirrelly thing." She frowned. "Not only is he pulling from City and County, but one victim is in St. Charles, another is across the river in G.o.dfrey, Illinois. If that's not bad enough for ya', I just got a call from the Sherriff's department out in Jefferson County. They're faxing us a report, but from what was said when we talked, it looks like they might be hosting victim nine."

"f.u.c.ker's all over the map."

"Yeah, and these are just the ones we know about," she said. "You know the stats on unreported rapes. Especially where Rophynol is in the picture."

"Yeah," Ben nodded and frowned. "So Paige Lawson might have been an attempted rape gone bad instead of a robbery-a.s.sault."

"Sounds like she fits the profile," Charlee agreed. "That's why I wanted to talk to you. I just heard the facts on Lawson an hour or so ago."

"Yeah. Not surprised. You've had a lot on your plate."

I was listening intently to the entire exchange, keeping my mouth shut, and taking in the information. The jumble of puzzle pieces I'd been laboring over earlier was suddenly starting to make sense; for the first time in a very long while I had a feeling that a significant number of them actually belonged to the same picture.

"It might be a good idea for us to compare notes," Ben told her.

"Yeah, although I'm thinkin' I'll be helping you more than you'll be helping me."

"Yeah, maybe so, but you owe me one."

"How do you figure?"

"I lost twenty bucks on you when you showed up here in a skirt."

"Yeah, serves you right," she laughed. "Oh yeah, there were actually a couple of other things all the victims mentioned, although I don't think it will help your cause any since it didn't go very far."

"What's that?"

"Several of 'em mentioned having quite a bit of makeup smeared on their faces.

Kinda like it had been wiped off, but not very well. And they all remembered bright, flas.h.i.+ng lights-like blindingly bright I mean."