Chapter Nine

 

At night, the Pink Kitty carried the air of a matron made up to hide the passing years and the visible flaws. In the late afternoon light, the matron had been caught without her makeup and every flaw stood out. The building needed new siding and the windows facing the street were covered in years’ worth of grime. The Pink Kitty desperately needed a facelift. As far as Jack was concerned, the whole neighborhood needed renovating.

He found a parking space and cut the ignition. Gemma hadn’t said much the whole ride, which seemed out of character to him. He squelched the impulse to ask if she was all right. His job was to watch her, not play psychiatrist. In fact, he needed her to stay quiet while he investigated. “This is an official police investigation. Lenny’s a suspect and I’ll do the questioning.”

An obstinate expression flittered across her face before visibly smoothing out and he sensed the effort she made not to argue with him. “I always knew Lenny was slime.”

Jack undid his seat belt. “I’d say he was more than slime. The guy is potentially dangerous. Anyone who goes to the effort of stalking has serious issues.”

“I can’t believe the Pink Kitty hired him.” Gemma unhooked her seat belt.

Jack paused in stepping out of the car to glance back at her. “You’re joking, right? You really think the owner of the Pink Kitty asks for references or does a background check?”

“The owner has a responsibility to hire respectable people.” Gemma opened her car door and stepped out, facing him across the roof.

“It’s a stripper club.” Jack shut the door firmly for emphasis. “I don’t think the clientele is any more respectable than the employees. Probably half the audience has been arrested for one thing or another.”

Gemma shut her door and leaned against the passenger side. “This is my fault, isn’t it?”

That stopped Jack like a brick wall. The note in her voice, the worry and concern on her face told him to tread carefully. “Why do you say that?”

“I’m the one that wrote the article stating that a witness had seen the murderer. I put Candy in danger. Somehow the killer figured it out.”

Jack blew out a breath. He didn’t like seeing Gemma beating herself up. On the other hand, she was a reporter and that meant her entire purpose was to stick her nose into other people’s business, which usually meant she screwed with people’s lives.

Unable to think of anything to say, he opted for retreat. “Let’s go inside.”

No one manned the front like last time. Jack entered the main room of the club and noticed the difference in atmosphere. A few businessmen sat at tables alone. Canned music played in the background. Behind the bar, a different bartender with salt and pepper hair and the pasty, hardened look of an ex-con, wiped glasses and put them back on the shelves. Gemma sauntered up to the bar and sat on a stool. “Hey there? I haven’t seen you around. What happened to Lenny?”

The guy barely noticed her. “What can I get you?”

Gemma leaned forward. “You got a diet cola? I’m dying of thirst.” She turned slightly and, catching Jack’s eye, tilted her head towards the dressing room. “Thanks,” she said when the coke was placed in front of her. “So, what can you tell me about Lenny? I mean he’s been hitting on me to go out with him and well, I’ve been thinking about it.”

So much for listening to his instructions. Then again, she might find out where Lenny was. He’d let her do her thing while he checked out the dressing room to see if Candy had hidden out there. He gave the lounge one more sweep. No one appeared to be a threat. Gemma should be fine in a public space.

Jack slipped into the back of the club and knocked on the dressing room door. When a voice shouted “What?” he took it as his cue to enter. Jack stepped into the sad little room with its wooden floors and scarred dressing tables with stars made of cheap plastic taped above. The place reeked of perfume and smoke that had seeped into the walls over years of use. A hanging rack with costumes occupied a corner, while one wall contained three dressing tables with various bottles and brushes and makeup cluttered on their tops. Only one of the three seats was currently in use by a redhead in her late thirties whose assets were on very clear display in the filmy negligee she wore.

The redhead paused in brushing her hair. “Oh, it’s you again. Candy isn’t here.”

“I see that. Any idea where I can find her?” Jack kept his gaze on hers and ignored her substantial charms.

“Hon, she isn’t on until later tonight. She don’t need to be here for a couple of hours.”

“Has she been in touch with you at all today?”

The stripper eyed him consideringly. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”

“She might be in trouble. She called to say someone was following her. No one’s seen her since.”

A light knock sounded on the door before it opened and Gemma walked in. “Mind if I join you? Is Candy here?”

“This is all your fault.” The stripper twisted in her chair and shook her brush at Gemma. “I told her not to talk to you. Reporters are nothing but trouble. Look what happened. Candy could be dead ‘cause of you.” Fat tears welled up in the woman’s eyes and spilled over. She sniffed and reached for a tissue on her dressing table to blow her nose.

“Let’s chill out.” Jack raised his palms in the air. Gemma had frozen in position and the stricken cast to her features showed the other woman had scored a hit. “Do you have any idea where Candy might be or where she might go?”

The stripper shrugged. She faced back to the mirror and repaired the damage to her makeup. “We’re not exactly close, you know? Now I need to be on stage in five minutes. You both need to get out of here.”

Jack nodded with his chin towards the door. Gemma opened her mouth to speak, looking in the direction of the stripper, but Jack took her arm and steered her to the door. “Leave it. She isn’t in the mood to listen.”

Outside the room, Gemma leaned against the paneled wall and squeezed her eyes shut.

“You okay?”

Gemma took a deep breath, making her breasts rise and focusing his attention someplace it didn’t need to be. He had to struggle this time to raise his gaze. Her eyes opened and he found himself falling into a pair of green eyes that reflected a sadness he hated seeing. Why did this one woman get to him so deeply? He didn’t do relationships and he didn’t do commitment.

“She’s right. I published the story. I thought I’d done enough to protect Candy’s identity, but he found her anyway.”

“You don’t know it’s him.” They were speculating, which was always dangerous.

“She’d have called back by now if it was nothing.” Gemma rubbed her arms up and down. “He’s got her. I feel it.”

“Did you learn anything about Lenny?” Jack changed the topic. It was either that or he was going to gather her in his arms to offer comfort and that would be a bad idea.

“He called in this morning and asked for a few days off.” Gemma came off the wall, her eyes regaining some of their lost spark. “Do you think it’s him? He could have planned it this morning after the paper came out. He knew we were both here last night. He snatches Candy and calls in to cover his tracks.”

She had a vivid imagination. He’d give her that. “I deal in facts. At the moment we have nothing to connect Lenny with Candy’s disappearance other than some circumstantial evidence.”

Gemma paced in front of him. “I deal in facts, too. Sometimes to get to the facts you have to get dirty. We need to dig into Lenny’s background.”

“It’s already being done. I’ll make some calls and see what we’ve got.”

Gemma nodded her head. “Okay. Fine.”

Her phone trilled that depressing funeral dirge. Gemma got it out of her bag, her forehead wrinkling as she examined the screen. “Number unknown.”

She hit the answer button. “Hello?”

Her eyes widened at the same time her hand shot out to catch his arm. “It’s him,” she mouthed.

***

“Did you miss me, Gemma?”

Gemma gripped the phone tight and tried to calm her racing heart. “What do you want?” She’d hit the record function, so at least they’d have a copy of this conversation to go over later.

The voice on the other side laughed. He had to be using a voice distorter. The sound creeped her out.

“Gemma, Gemma, won’t you come out to play?”

“I asked you what you want.” Every one of her muscles tensed in dreaded anticipation. Would he even reply? What if he asked for something impossible?

Jack watched her, a grim expression on his face, his feet braced far apart and his hand at his hip, close to his weapon.

“I told you. I want to play.”

“I’m not interested in games. Why don’t you tell me what you really want?”

“If you don’t want to play, I’ll have to find another friend.”

“No! Wait!” He had given her no choice. She couldn’t afford to lose the connection he’d established.

He laughed, raising goosebumps along her skin.

“That’s better. Why’d you leave your job in New York City?”

The abrupt change of topics threw her for a moment. “I got a good job offer.”

“You’re lying.” Anger burned across the wire. “Don’t lie to me, Gemma. That’s rule number one. When you lie, someone has to pay.”

Fear crawled up Gemma’s throat. Did he mean Candy or some other woman? “What are you talking about? Don’t do anything, please. I’m sorry. Let me answer again.”

“Too late, Gemma,” he snapped. “Who will I make pay?” The words came out in a sing-song voice that made the bile rise in her throat. “I know. I think it’s time for some candy.”

A long, piercing female scream filled the phone line and then the connection went dead.

“Wait! Don’t!” Gemma jabbed at her screen. He’d blocked his number, preventing her from calling back.

Two arms grabbed her and gave her a light shake. “Damn it, Gemma. Talk to me. What the hell just happened?”

She felt sick to her stomach, like she’d slogged through a swamp of slime and it still stuck to her. “It was him.”

The door to the dressing room opened and the stripper they’d talked to earlier stepped out in a skimpy bodysuit with fishnet thigh highs and four inch high heels, and glared at them both. “You better not be waiting for me because I’m not answering any more questions.” She swept past them, a green boa trailing in her wake.

“Let’s get out of this place and we can talk.”

“There’s no time to talk, Jack. He’s got Candy. I’m sure of it. She screamed.” Gemma bent over, her stomach rebelling. That scream. She didn’t think she’d ever get the sound of that scream out of her head.

Arms came around her and helped her to straighten. She found herself pressed against Jack’s chest.

She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and hung on. “He’s going to kill her.”

His big hands rubbed circles on her back, offering comfort. Even as she accepted it, she told herself it was temporary. She gave herself permission to be weak right now. As long as it didn’t become a habit, she could allow herself the comfort of his arms.

Warmth seeped through her jacket and sweater, warming up the frost that had crystallized in her blood. In Jack’s arms, she didn’t feel quite so scared or quite so alone. That in itself was dangerous.

She had responsibilities and major bills to pay. Dana needed stability and attention and Gemma wasn’t about to do anything to jeopardize that. Jack had already made clear how he felt about her profession. Keeping it light, she could handle. Anything deeper would be a mistake.

She released the fist-hold she had on his shirt and smoothed it in place. It took some metal effort, but she forced herself to step back.

Had it only been two nights ago that she’d walked into O’Malley’s Bar? It seemed much longer ago than that. When she’d approached him, she’d wondered if she could trust him, should trust him.

She knew the answer to that question now. Yes, she did trust him. He wasn’t going to be happy with her when he realized why she’d walked into his life or that she’d kept the anonymous note from him.

But all that had to take a back seat to finding Candy.

“I want to go back to the station. You up to that?”

“I’ll do anything that helps us find Candy. He’s hurting her.” That scream. It continued to play over and over in her head.

Jack caught her hand and pulled her along behind him. Like a lifeline thrown to a drowning victim, she clung to it. She felt like that drowning victim, going under, but how much worse for Candy? She held on to Jack, drawing strength from him. Candy had no one. In the hands of a madman, she simply had to endure.

Gemma had no memory of leaving the club and walking back to Jack’s car. But when she came back to her surroundings, she was in front of the vehicle. She expected Jack to unlock the door and tell her to get in. Instead, he trapped her between himself and the car door and tipped her chin up with one hand. “Stop what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re blaming yourself. You’re not to blame for Candy’s situation. We’ll do everything we can to find her, but I need you to be focused. Can you do that?”

“Of course, I can do that. I’ll do anything to help Candy. But it is my fault that—”

Jack’s finger came up to touch her lips. “Blaming yourself is useless. Trust me on this. Let’s get back to the station and go over the call. There might be something you can remember. Something we can use. I need you to focus on that.”

“But….” She didn’t get the chance to say more. His mouth came down and he kissed her lightly, gently, blowing all thoughts of blame away like a leaf in the wind.

“Go ahead and get in.” He didn’t explain the kiss and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the explanation.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

She heard the locks disengage and got in the car. She didn’t really understand her feelings for Jack. They were too fast and too intense. Yet, the thought of tracking down Candy on her own made her blood run cold. Right now, she needed a partner with the skills he brought to the table.

If she thought about it in business terms, she could handle it. That meant no more kisses, no more hugs and no more sneak peeks at his sexy face and build.

Speaking of which, Gemma mentally wrenched her view away from his profile and focused on the road in front of them. In no time, Jack covered the distance that led to the police station, but not before calling in a BOLO for Candy, so that all officers would be keeping their eyes peeled for her, and not before getting her to play the recording she told him she’d gotten. Other than his hands clenching on the wheel of the car, Jack gave no outward reaction to the conversation. Gemma took small comfort from the fact that at least patrol officers would be on the lookout for the woman. They had to find her safe. Gemma didn’t want to contemplate the alternative.

Once they arrived at the station, Jack hustled her inside and up the stairs to a room filled with desks. She hadn’t been here before. Her ‘up close and personal’ look had been in that dingy interrogation room on the first floor yesterday. Usually, she didn’t make it past the desk sergeant, because as soon as he caught sight of her he would give her the evil eye and bark out in a loud baritone: No Reporters Allowed. Dogs had a better chance of making it past the guy than she did, which was why she hadn’t been able to resist waving her fingers at him when Jack escorted her up.

The moment she took a seat next to Jack’s desk, though, she recalled the phone call, Candy’s cry, and her reason for being here. Jack took off his blazer and hung it on the back of his chair. He rolled up his shirtsleeve, revealing muscular forearms with a dusting of brown hair.

No more looking, she reminded herself.

She focused her attention on the room itself. Several desks butted up against each other, she supposed so that partners could easily talk to one another. A white board covered with magnets and black marker took up space next to a cabinet upon which several large stacks of folders had been piled. It looked like they had run out of space in the cabinets and simply used the surface for more filing space. In the corner, she spied a coffee machine. The walls were institutional beige matched by plain linoleum flooring.

The whole place needed color and a makeover.

Jack’s desk mirrored several of the other desks in the room. File folders lay piled up on one side, a desktop computer and keyboard took center position, and a phone and pencil holder hugged the corner. His desk faced another desk that was currently empty, but three empty lemon-lime soda cans lined the divide between the two desks.

“That’s Garcia’s desk. He’s had it for about a day and already he’s got a theme going.” Jack gestured towards the soda cans. “Go get yourself a diet drink, or there’s coffee over there in the corner if you prefer. But if you value your stomach, stick with the diet soda. I’m going to call and get a tech guy down here to check your phone.”

“I’ll get the soda. You want anything?”

“Anything not diet. Thanks.” Jack had picked up the phone receiver and tucked it between his chin and shoulder while he searched for something on his desktop.

Gemma left the room, passing T.J. Garcia on the way out. Jack’s partner nodded as he passed her, his expression grim. Down the hall, Gemma found the drink machine at the end of the corridor. She dropped in the coins and selected a diet cola for herself and a regular cola for Jack. On impulse, she fed more change into the machine and punched the button for the lemon-lime.

Gemma brought her offerings back to the room where she saw Jack was in conversation with T.J. Both men glanced her way when she approached. She held out the soda to Jack and the other to T.J., whose eyebrows rose in surprise.

“You’re part of the team, right?”

T.J. smiled, revealing a dimple that she was certain made women drool and fantasize. “So, we’re partners,” T.J. said, with distinct amusement as he popped the tab of his soda. “Thanks.”

His focus returned to Jack as he took a healthy swallow. “All right, what’ve you got?” All amusement was gone, and he displayed an intensity and alertness that underscored the seriousness with which they were all responding to Candy’s abduction. “Carmichael and O’Hara phoned. They’re heading back in.”

Jack brought T.J. up to speed while Gemma retrieved her cell phone from her bag.

“I’m going to drop the phone off at the lab. Maybe they can pick up something in the background,” Jack said.

“I’m going to need my phone if that creep calls again.” She really didn’t want him to call, but if there was a chance he might drop a clue to Candy’s whereabouts or if she could persuade him to let Candy go, she had to answer.

“I know. Disable your password. They should be able to copy the recording and give me back the phone.” Jack waited for her to do what he asked and give him the phone before switching his attention to T.J. “Why don’t you track down all the businesses with cameras in a two-block radius of Candy’s apartment. Maybe we’ll get lucky and nail the bastard on tape.”

“Done.”

Jack paced the small area. “Who the hell is this guy? He snatched her off the streets in broad daylight. We’ve got nothing.”

“Do you have a laptop I can work on?” Gemma couldn’t take the inactivity. She needed to be doing something.

“Why?” T.J. asked.

“Because I’m good at connecting dots. I access a lot of databanks when I’m researching a story. I have my tablet, but I’d be a lot faster if I could work on a computer. I brought my notes with me when Jack picked me up at the newspaper. Between my notes and some research maybe I’ll uncover something.”

Jack gave a clipped nod. “She’s right. We need to go back over everything, see if we’re missing something. I’m going to the lab and then I’ll find a place we can set up.” Jack paused to give Gemma a pointed look. “Wait here.” He left the room, leaving Gemma with T.J.

T.J. pointed to a chair next to Jack’s desk. “Have a seat, while I scrounge you up a laptop.”

“Thanks.”

T.J. finished off the last of his soda, crushed the can and tossed it into a recycling bin against the wall as he left the room. A male and female entered the detective room. The female crossed over to a desk on the far side of the room, while the male went straight for the coffee. They both eyed her curiously, but as the phones chose that moment to ring, they moved to answer them.

T.J. came back in with a large laptop that screamed pre-historic, but she wasn’t about to complain if it worked. He cleared off space on a nearby desk and gestured her over. “I know it looks old, but the hard drive’s been replaced and the tech guy swears it will work. It’s already set up so that you can access the Internet.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He gave her a quick nod then returned to his desk to hunt down businesses with videos. She silently prayed he found plenty and that at least one showed footage of Candy and her attacker.

She stared up at the large clock on the wall and watched the second hand tick off the time. Was Candy still alive? Both previous victims had been found four to five days after they disappeared. They’d been held captive for part of that time. Would the killer bother to keep Candy alive? How much time did they have to find her before she suffered worse or even death?

Don’t give up, Candy. Stay alive. We’re searching for you.