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Dubai, United Arab Emirates
Wednesday, 27 January, 2:59 a.m.
––––––––
Rowan waited for us on the sundeck. To my left, the most beautiful view of Dubai. City lights dotted the night sky. To my right, the darkness of the ocean. I stretched my arms and rolled my shoulders.
"I take it you got in some exercise?" Rowan asked, stretching his legs out in front of him on the sun lounger.
I nodded and downed the bottle of water Aidan handed me. Interrogations leave me thirsty. "He didn't give us a name. I don't think he knows. He did however describe Biggie."
"The tattoo on his right hand?" Rowan asked.
"No, said Biggie wore gloves. Described his build, and said his Spanish isn't fluent, but he got the message across." The need for gloves I found strange as that time of year would've been summer in Chile. In Spain, all it had taken to convince Alejandro Sanchez to play a role in murdering two people was a simple phone call. One Eli already traced down the rabbit hole to nowhere. A burner phone. Another dead end.
"Biggie didn't want Sanchez to see his tattoo. An idiotic idea on Biggie's part to get such a recognisable tattoo on his right hand."
Rowan agreed yet reminded me of the ink on my left wrist.
"I covered it with a leather strap, just as our faces were covered the entire time we chatted with Alejandro." For more reasons than one, I needed a shower after the time spent in that room, with a man who had travelled all the way from Madrid to Dubai for nothing.
Rowan shifted and lowered his feet to the deck. "I'll take care of the body."
"What body?" Aidan asked and placed an arm around my chest as he came to stand behind me.
"Sanchez's body." Rowan pointed into the house.
"No, Sanchez is heading back to Madrid. His transfer should arrive any minute." Aidan pressed his lips to the top of my head. "Did you have fun?"
No, I didn't. As much as I love torturing evil people – human predators – it leaves me feeling empty when they don't tell me what I want to know. Unsatisfied. Time wasted. Time I could've spent hunting the killer. This had been necessary, now we knew Sanchez deserved the punishment he would receive. The death penalty. Not this day, but soon enough.
"You're letting him go?"
Aidan laughed. "Pretty much. We'll leave Alejandro in an alley in a bad part of Madrid. It will appear to be a random attack."
"You left marks on him?" Rowan turned to me. "It's never a good idea to leave bruises unless you kill someone. Even more so when the person is, by all accounts, an upstanding citizen. The last thing you want is for someone to believe the ridiculous story he'll now be able to tell anyone. Including the Spanish Police."
For a second, I considered retrieving the bat and using it on my brother-in-law. "Rowan, do not insult my intelligence. I ensured Alejandro won't be able to live out his passion until I go to Madrid and put a bullet between his eyes. He doesn't deserve to enjoy the few days he has left on this earth."
I stepped out of Aidan's arms and came to a stop at Rowan's feet. With my hands on my sides, I stared down at him. "There's always method behind my madness, even more so behind your brother's. Let me explain it to you, son. We're sending Sanchez back because we suspect he'll contact the killer. He's more afraid of us than he is of Biggie, seeing as he is now under the impression Biggie works for us. We told him we want our money back because it was stolen from us. He doesn't have much to his name; spent it all to set up his dance company. As soon as Sanchez wakes up, he expects Biggie will pay him a visit. From their previous interactions, he knows Biggie isn't someone anyone should mess with. Sanchez told us it took some persuasion from Biggie's fists to get him to email Peo and place a call to Diaz."
Rowan stared up at me. "I'm sorry, Fin."
"So what if I gauged out his eyes, or shredded his tongue with a fork? My methods shouldn't matter to you. Do you question your mother whenever she does what I just did?"
Rowan shook his head.
"Don't ever second guess me again. I've tortured more people than you ever will. If I decide to let him, or anyone else live, you accept it. Sanchez is our only other living lead. And if I want to send him back alive, without the use of his legs, then it's my prerogative."
I turned to Aidan. "Will he ever walk again?"
"No. He won't get medical attention in time, and you went to town on his legs. I would love to see x-rays to confirm whether the damage is as extensive as I suspect." Aidan yawned. "I counted twenty blows, not including the four to his arms. Your aim worsened towards the end."
"Yes, well, it's not like my training includes swinging a bat around every day." I shrugged and returned to Aidan's arms.
"What information do you bring from Abu Dhabi? Where's Liam?" Aidan asked.
Rowan dragged a hand down his face. "He's taking a shower. Nina confirmed she was in fact single at the time of their fling, so at least there's that."
I tossed the empty water bottle at Rowan's head, his reflexes better than Liam's. He caught it before it connected with his face.
"Alicia Rideout, did she tell Nina anything?"
Rowan nodded and asked us to sit. "Two unsubs. Biggie, and the other one demanded that she call him 'your highness' during sex."
"He sees himself as the prince in this macabre fairy tale he recreates with every kill." I placed my hand in Aidan's.
"His highness had sex with her. Biggie pushed the pipe down her throat, poured the liquid down the tube and then put her in the Perspex box. Once the prince left, Biggie opened the lid and injected her with something. That's all she remembers."
Alicia Rideout might not have remembered it, but she put up one hell of a fight. Unlike the other victims, based on the information in their autopsy reports. Her arms were covered in defensive wounds, her left eye was swollen shut, and her knuckles bruised. This woman wanted to live.
"He could've injected her with atropine, pralidoxime, and benzodiazepines. It counteracts the organophosphate. She would've needed adequate oxygenation, depending on the initial dosage of poison given. Until I see a toxicology report, I can't say more. Will Miss Rideout suffer from any long-lasting side effects?" Aidan asked.
"Nina said it doesn't seem like it at the moment, and she promised to keep us up to date with the victim's progress."
"Survivor. Alicia's not only a victim, but a survivor. She survived him. Why?" I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and middle finger. "For the record, Rowan, it's rape."
"No, she said she consented. Her agent arranged the meeting, and he was charming, a proper gentleman. Only after they had sex did the bigger guy appear and try to kill her."
"Where did they meet?" Aidan asked.
"A private house. A car picked her up at the hotel and drove her there. She thought it would be for an audition. After she read a few lines, he asked her stay for dinner, and she didn't have reason to suspect she was in any danger."
I will never judge a woman for indulging in her own desires, even if that meant it would be a one-time thing with a man she didn't know. Alicia Rideout wasn't the first, or last, woman to have tried sexing her way into a job. To call it sleeping your way to the top doesn't make sense.
Rowan pushed to his feet. "Eli located the car used to pick her up, license plate came back as fake. No footage from the cameras outside the hotel to give as an unobstructed view of the driver's face. He knew the locations of the cameras. With everything we've learned about them so far, we can assume he wore a disguise."
"Could she describe this prince character?" I asked as I stood.
Rowan shook his head. "Blue eyes, dark hair, attractive but nothing to write home about. His brows weren't as dark as his hair, and he had no facial hair. Spoke English with a flawless British accent."
"I need the name of her agent. He knows the killer. I might use the modified electric prodder on him." Waterboarding two people in a row is boring. "Did she see the tattoos on his back?"
Rowan shook his head. "She didn't mention it to Nina, and I didn't want to say anything about it to a nurse who might end up leaking a crucial piece of information to the press."