Chapter 37 BREE

Chapter 37

brEE

Bree sat at her desk. Her head ached, and her stomach felt sour. It was a little sad that just a few glasses of wine put her into such a state, but she rarely drank. The coffee wasn't helping her stomach, but it was definitely necessary for her brain. She popped an antacid and picked up her phone to view her messages. That morning, Dana had sent her a few pictures of the kids on the boardwalk. Their smiles did more for Bree's physical state than the TUMS, and she was once again grateful that they were far away from home.

Her phone vibrated in her hand. She read Matt's name on the screen. Her heart leaped as she pressed ANSWER. "Hey."

"Hey," he said. "What's wrong?"

"You can tell from one word?"

"I guess so." He sounded almost surprised. Dogs barked in the background.

She snorted. "And I was just thinking it was ridiculous how much I've missed you."

"Back atcha." His voice went husky.

"The work with the dogs is good?"

"It's great. But I still miss you. We just hit some cell reception. I checked the news. I'm sorry I'm not there. The case sounds like it's gone sideways."

"I wish you were here too." The feeling in her gut could only be described as yearning, but the word made her mentally roll her eyes. "Sideways is a mild way to describe this case."

"You need me to come home? I'm sure I can get a copter ride from somebody."

"No. The FBI is assisting, so I have support." But it's not the same.

"How is the fed?" Matt asked.

"She's solid, and she brings resources to the table."

"The federal budget is a little bigger than Randolph County's?"

"Just a little." Bree laughed. Just hearing his voice brightened her mood, which she admitted had been pretty bleak.

Static broke up Matt's response. "I'm losing reception. I love you."

"I love you too." She hoped he'd heard her.

The line went dead, and she stared at the phone for a minute, feeling bereft. How had she managed before him? The same way she would work this case. It would be harder without him, but she would do the job.

Marge poked her head in the doorway. "There's a woman in the lobby I think you should talk to."

Bree raised her brows. She trusted her assistant's instincts, but she was already swamped. "OK, but why?"

Marge leaned on the doorframe. "She says her friend went missing a few months ago, and the Redhaven police refused to investigate."

Bree waited.

Marge paused. "They're both prostitutes."

"Oh." Bree felt the sigh come from deep inside. Missing persons cases rarely generated substantial law enforcement responses unless the individual was a child or there were clear signs of foul play or exigent circumstances. Adults were free to come and go as they pleased. They were not required to report their location to family members. Families with missing adults were often forced to hire PIs when the trails went quickly cold. Given the lifestyle of a prostitute, it was even harder to track them. Other prostitutes and potential pimps didn't like to cooperate with law enforcement. Drugs were often involved. Clients didn't want to admit they frequented sex workers.

"You think this is related to the case?" Mercy asked.

"Maybe," Marge said.

"Someone got that fourth tattoo," Bree said. "We'll talk to her in room one." She put her palms flat on the table and pushed to her feet.

Marge nodded. "Her name is Shelly Fox."

Bree and Mercy made their way down the hall to the interview room. Bree peered through the doorway.

The woman inside was thin. Her long blonde hair was damaged at the ends, greasy and dark at the roots. She stood in the corner of the room, her arms wrapped around her waist. She ripped off a piece of her thumbnail with her teeth. When Bree and Mercy entered the room, she whirled, every muscle in her body tense. She'd backed herself into a corner, poised for flight with nowhere to run, which was a fair summation of the life of a prostitute.

"Ms. Fox?" Bree stopped in the doorway, taking care not to press on her personal space.

The woman gave her a tight nod back.

"I'm Sheriff Taggert. This is Special Agent Kilpatrick. Would you like some coffee?"

"Yeah. That'd be good." Shelly didn't move.

Bree leaned into the hall, spotted Marge, and gestured for her to bring coffee. Then Bree and Mercy eased into the room. Bree pulled out a chair, letting Shelly keep the table as a barrier. Mercy took the chair next to Bree.

Marge brought a tray with three steaming coffee mugs, packets of sugar and cream, and a few donuts she must have pilfered from the break room. Shelly looked like she hadn't eaten in some time, but then, the tracks on her arms suggested she chose drugs over food. Bree let the donuts draw Shelly closer. She sank into a chair, her gaze darting to Bree and Mercy and back again.

Bree slid a mug in front of her and took a donut. "These are fresh. Help yourself."

Shelly's eyes shifted to hunger. Bree wondered when she'd eaten last. Shelly selected a donut and ate it in three bites.

Bree waited for her to finish. "Tell me about your friend."

Shelly wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and doctored her coffee with two packets of sugar and a tiny tub of creamer. "Her name is Missy. Missy Star."

Bree jotted it down. "Do you know if that's her real name?"

Shelly shook her head.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Mercy asked.

Shelly jerked a shoulder. "Dunno exactly. About three or four months ago. She used to be on the same corner as me every night. Then she just wasn't."

"Which corner?" Bree opened her notebook.

Shelly paused, her eyes worried.

"It's OK," Bree said. "We won't arrest you."

Shelly looked unconvinced. She licked her lips, and her next words were almost a whisper. "Cops lie."

The accusation hit hard. There was no law against cops lying to suspects. Bree had done it herself to gain information and solve cases. But there was clearly a downside: lack of trust.

Bree went with the most honest response she could. "I can't make you trust us, but we're trying to stop a killer. If this is related, we need to know."

"You think that killer got Missy?" Shelly's mouth flattened, but she wasn't surprised at the thought.

Bree turned up both palms in a who knows gesture. "We won't know unless we look for her."

Shelly chewed on another nail. She wasn't going to have a single one left at this rate. "Oak and Fifth in Redhaven."

"Was Missy worried about anything in particular?" Mercy leaned her forearms on the table.

Shelly raised her hand and bit off another nail. "Yeah. A client. He was into weird bondage shit. There are always guys into that, but this one was different." Shelly cocked her head. "He scared her. He wanted more than just handcuffs and some spanking. She said it felt like he really wanted to hurt her."

Bree made a note. "Did he do anything specific?"

"He choked her," Shelly said. "But not like erotic ... erotic ... I can't remember the term."

"Erotic asphyxiation," Mercy supplied.

"Yeah." Shelly nodded. "She said it wasn't like that. Usually, they want to get choked to increase their pleasure. But with him, it wasn't like that. He liked choking her, if you know what I mean."

"Yes." Bree exchanged a look with Mercy. "We understand."

Shelly splayed a hand at the base of her throat. "She had bruises around her neck. Dark ones."

Mercy sat up straighter. "Did she describe him?"

Shelly shook her head. "He was strong. That's all she said."

Disappointment filled Bree.

Mercy's eyes sharpened. "Did he engage Missy more than one time?"

"Yeah," Shelly said. "He paid well, and she said he was a little weird the first couple of times. Wanted to tie her up and liked it rough. But each time, he got rougher. She was afraid he was gonna go off and actually kill her."

"Do you or Missy have a manager?" Bree asked.

Shelly shook her head. "Every girl I know who does gets beat by him and the clients."

"Fair assessment," Bree agreed. "Would you please wait here for a few minutes? I'll be right back."

She left the room and hurried to the squad room to find Todd at his desk. "Get me five random male photos for an array." She stopped in the conference room and pulled photos of the men in the serial killer case. With the stack of photos, she returned to the interview room.

"Have you seen any of these men?" She dealt out pictures of Jimmie, Tisha's father, Rick Mullen, and Pete Conrad, intermixing them with the photos of the random men.

Shelly leaned over the table and examined the men carefully. She stopped and went back, tapping the table below the picture of Pete Conrad. "I might have seen him around recently."

"Did he solicit your services?" Mercy asked.

She chewed her lip. "Maybe."

"Could he be the same man who got rough with Missy?" Bree asked.

"I don't know." Fear flashed in Shelly's eyes. "Do you think it's him?"

"We don't know. Did he get rough? Or use anything like, say, a ball gag?"

"No." Shelly shook her head. "He likes to talk dirty. He never asked for any bondage-type stuff."

Mercy frowned. "Was he around when Missy disappeared?"

Shelly's forehead furrowed. "I've only seen him the past month or two, but I can't say he wasn't around then. Just that I didn't see him then."

"Do you remember anything else?" Bree asked.

Shelly finished her coffee. "No."

"Where did Missy live?" Mercy asked.

"She rented a room at the Grand on Fourth." Shelly's hand trembled. She clasped it with the other to still the shakes. From drug withdrawal or nerves? Could be both, Bree decided.

"How did you get here today?" Bree asked.

"My brother brought me," Shelly said.

"Do you need a ride back?" Bree offered.

"No, he's waiting for me." Shelly stood.

Bree showed her to the door. She wrote her cell number on the back of a business card. "If you see anything or hear anything, please call me."

"Sure." But Shelly's voice didn't sound promising. She looked at the door. "Thanks for listening. You're the first person to actually care about Missy."

After Shelly left, Bree finished her donut. "What do you think?"

Mercy frowned at Pete Conrad's photo. "We already know he solicits local prostitutes, so I'm not sure her recognizing him matters."

"Except that he's still doing it, even though he's already facing charges."

"We could pick him up," Mercy said.

"Might be worth talking to him again," Bree agreed. "I'll have a deputy bring him in. I'll meet you back in the conference room in five. We need to find another lead while we wait for Pete."