12. Official Capacity

TWELVE

Official Capacity

Indira Bonner had let her hair go gray.

It was a thick mass of waves and curls with streaks of white that were natural and beautiful.

He was surprised, however, because she was young, at least too young to retire and leave the business to her daughter. Unless he was reading it wrong, she had Lucinda late in life, and over the years she’d simply taken care of herself.

Or maybe she was still involved, just not day to day, and she’d handed the helm to Lucinda and kept in the background.

She indicated she was well aware of her granddaughter’s recent loss, but this wasn’t the only reason she enveloped Madden in a grandmotherly hug that was so warm and openly nurturing, it seemed at odds with the fact she was home on a Saturday, about to babysit, and she was wearing an outfit much like her daughter’s. Except she didn’t have the cardigan, the white sweater wasn’t a turtleneck, and her smart slacks were charcoal gray.

Things got more interesting after their quick introduction led to another one when a tall, good-looking, dark-headed man, around Lucinda’s age, showed up behind Indira.

“You’re here,” Lucinda said to him.

“In the flesh,” he replied, his attention on Rus.

Lucinda delayed no further. “This is my brother, Porter. Porter, Special Agent Lazarus.”

Yeah.

Total immersion.

“Rus,” he invited the man to use his nickname, offering a hand.

Porter took it. “Hey.”

They broke contact, the man glanced at Lucinda, his mother, then claimed his niece by throwing her over his wide shoulder to her delighted squeal.

“Sundaes,” he declared, walking away.

“Yay!” Madden cried.

“It’s nine thirty in the morning,” Lucinda called to his back.

He waved a hand and didn’t bother even looking over his shoulder as he kept walking.

Madden lifted her head, grinning huge, and said, “Bye, Momma. Bye, Mr. Lazarus.”

“Later,” Rus called.

Lucinda said nothing.

They disappeared.

Indira shifted into their line of vision.

“We have this, go,” she said to Lucinda.

“I don’t want her eating a sundae at nine thirty in the morning, Mom,” Lucinda decreed.

“There are times for nine thirty sundaes, my darling, and this is one of them,” Indira refuted with the god’s honest truth. Before her daughter could say more, if she was going to, Indira looked up at Rus. “It’s nice to meet you. I’d offer you coffee, but I think time is tight for you.”

“It seems it is. Another time. And it’s nice to meet you too,” he replied.

Indira made a shooing gesture, and since only Madden had made it over the threshold, the door was closed in their faces.

He looked down at Lucinda.

“You have a brother.”

“One. Older. Annoying. He needs to settle down and have kids of his own so he’ll stop spoiling mine,” she groused.

“Hmm,” he hummed his disagreement to this statement, since he not only spoiled his daughter, he spoiled both his brothers’ daughters.

And their sons (and, in his way, his).

She gave him a side eye then turned to walk down the steps toward his SUV.

Her mother lived in a gated condo complex. Rus had been surprised at its existence in this area, mostly because the gate was manned, and it was clear HOA fees were hefty. The condos were semi-detached townhomes, and they looked huge. On the way to her unit, they’d passed a clubhouse, an outdoor swimming pool and tennis courts.

It seemed more suited to Scottsdale than rural Washington state.

He stood at her door while she climbed in the vehicle, he closed it for her and only got into it when he was in, and they were moving.

“There’s money in Misted Pines.”

“There’s money everywhere. But this is a weekend playground for people in Seattle, and though it’s more of a drive, Spokane. It’s a tourist spot for those out of state too. Pinetop Lodge has one of the best spas I’ve been to, and I know spas. We get weekend warriors. We get write-off corporate getaways in the guise of conferences. There’s fishing, hiking, trail running and riding. And there’s skiing close. The locals keep the local places secret. There are a lot of ‘keep out’ and ‘private property’ signs, and everyone encourages outsiders to take those seriously. We have no industry but the tourist industry, some logging and a quarry. So if people stopped coming, the town would die.”

Shit, fuck, and everything damning.

How hadn’t he thought of this before?

“What?” she asked, clearly sensing his change in mood, or maybe he hadn’t kept the fact he was suddenly pissed at himself off his face.

“Your mom retired early,” he noted, and had to admit the words sounded strangled.

“We all do. You can’t keep things fresh if you’ve been doing it for forty years. But that wasn’t what you were thinking. So what were you thinking?”

The Bonners ran their ship tight, but she was correct, that wasn’t what he was thinking.

“Your brother isn’t involved in the business?” he asked, instead of telling her what that was.

“My brother manages the stage, particularly building sets. He likes working with his hands. That also wasn’t what you were thinking. So, again, what were you thinking?”

All those elaborate sets were her brother.

And this was news.

“Did he know Brittanie?”

“He probably saw her around, but as much as it makes me feel the need to gargle with acid because these words are coming out of my mouth, even I, as his sister, know he’s exceptionally handsome. The girls flirt with him all the time. It not only annoys him, it wastes his time. He’s not a time waster. And he’s into fresh-faced, let’s-have-a-picnic-after-a-three-hour-hike mountain women. He’s also highly intelligent and understands you don’t shit where you live. So if he said more than five words to her in the four years she worked for me, I’d be surprised.”

Rus had barely met the guy, and he liked him.

“Rus,” she warned.

“Brittanie checked into the motel herself.”

“All right,” she prompted when he said no more.

“We’re looking local, but what if it was someone from outside Misted Pines? I take it these tourists and business conference people hit up your club?”

“Absolutely,” she replied. Then he knew she got him and just how difficult it would be to track down someone who wasn’t local when she said a soft, “Damn.”

“Keyleigh didn’t mention anybody. You didn’t either.”

“No. And again, if she set up a tryst with someone, she would not go to that motel. Even if they were from out of town and for some reason she wasn’t comfortable with taking them to her house. She’d expect them to pay, and she’d expect something like Pinetop. That’s the most exclusive place in town, but there are others, not as nice, but definitely nicer than the motel.”

“Still, it’s a possibility.”

“I’d say outside possibility, Rus.”

“I don’t dismiss any possibility until it dismisses itself.”

“Of course.”

“Gotta make a call.”

“Of course,” she repeated.

He pulled out his phone and called Moran. He got voicemail, shared his thoughts, then reiterated what he’d texted earlier: once he was done with Thea the Dominatrix, they’d meet up and get on with the day.

But now that included having a discussion about a possible out-of-towner drifting through and killing Brittanie.

Thea lived on the opposite side of town from Lucinda’s mother. It wasn’t that far of a drive. They were going to be early and couldn’t show until she was done with her nine o’clock.

Because of this, Lucinda directed them to stop at a place with a shockingly (in this part of the country) progressively liberal, in-your-face mural on the side of the building, and a sign on the front that was clearly made from reclaimed materials.

It declared that inside was Aromacobana.

Their local coffee spot.

So an explanation of the liberal mural.

They went in and immediately stirred a lot of interest.

This interest wasn’t about Lucinda’s version of a casual outfit that would go better lunching in New York City than picking up a coffee in a grunge-loving-progressive-lefty coffeehouse in rural Washington.

It was what was obviously making its way through town about who he was and the time he was spending with her.

As annoying as it was that Ellen Macklemore felt entitled to drive to Pinetop Lodge and confront him about how he was spending his time investigating this case, Rus had never been one to give any fucks to what people thought of him. This was one of the reasons why he cut his military career short.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like authority.

It was that he was more of a freethinker than the military allowed you to be. Until then, he’d lived an entire life where thinking freely was frowned on, and more of that turned out not to be his gig.

This was also why he didn’t continue as a cop.

And it was what led him to the FBI.

Structure. Support. Rules and regs.

But leeway to be your own person and encouragement to explore and share your thoughts.

Though, he couldn’t say he didn’t have some pride standing at the side of a beautiful, elegant woman and strongarming her at the cashier so she’d finally let him pay for something.

One thing he had added proof of after taking a sip, the libs knew how to make a damn good coffee, and that was the case from sea to shining sea.

They were back in the SUV and had resumed their journey when he noted, “Ellen Macklemore, the woman in the denim and turquoise, is in the coven, isn’t she?”

“She is.” Lucinda confirmed. “Though, I was surprised at the open offensive.”

“Not as surprised as me.”

“Now, what are you thinking?”

“I think thou does indeed protest too much on occasion.”

She sounded surprised. “You’re back to the coven?”

“She thought I was having dinner with you. It’s none of her business if I break for dinner or who I do it with. By last night, I hadn’t even been here two full days, and someone’s in my face about how I’m spending my time?”

“Welcome to Misted Pines.”

This stunned him.

“Really?” he asked.

“Did you not see that mural? Much of our citizenry has opinions, and they aren’t afraid to state them openly. Since the Ray Andrews debacle, the town council meetings are a free-for-all. I go for entertainment value alone.”

This made him feel better.

“Don’t run into Kimmy, whatever you do,” she advised. “She’ll tell you exactly who killed Brittanie, and she’ll be very wrong but think she’s very right.”

“Kimmy?”

“The woman who runs our holiday shop. And no, we’re far too small, no matter the tourists and out-of-towners, to have our own dedicated-to-holidays shop. But Kimmy makes a go of it against the odds. She’s also our local conspiracy theorist. She knows who killed JFK, and she’s pissed as shit Cade Bohannan hasn’t taken her directly to meet with Director Wray so he can reopen that case.”

“Oh yeah, help me keep a wide berth from her, baby,” he muttered.

Her voice was warm and amused when she replied, “I’ll do my best.”

They made what was left of the ride in companionable silence, and she guided him to a house that was alone, if not remote, quite like Melanie Iverson’s, but it was in much better condition.

There was a lone Subaru sitting outside, indication the client was gone.

They walked up together, and Thea already had the front door open, standing behind a screen, wearing a big, warm-looking, plush robe.

“Well, shit,” she said as greeting, staring up at him. “Did Hollywood cast you, or are you for real?”

“I told you he was fun to look at,” Lucinda murmured as Thea pushed open the screen door and they walked in.

“Special Agent Lazarus,” he introduced himself when the screen shut behind him and he’d offered his hand.

Thea took it, smiling and declaring, “I’d clear a whole weekend for you.”

“Honored, but no thanks,” he replied, friendly at the same time formal.

“The fun I could have,” she said to Lucinda.

Lucinda appeared stricken, then annoyed.

“No offense, but I’m here to talk about a murdered woman,” Rus stated.

The fun she was right then having at his expense, he didn’t mind, exactly.

But that didn’t negate the fact he wasn’t there to have fun.

Not to mention, he could see, he’d been around mirrors, and he knew he was handsome. It was nice when women thought the same, and even nicer when they shared it.

What wasn’t nice was having that conversation in front of him, when, if he and a male friend did the same to a woman, especially if she was acting in an official capacity as he was right then, it would be considered at least harassment, and definitely what he felt it was in that moment.

Inappropriate.

Thea appeared instantly contrite and muttered, “Sorry.”

“I appreciate the compliment, and I appreciate you being willing to talk about a client. I can imagine it took a lot for you to make that decision. It could come to nothing. It could also mean a great deal to this investigation, which frankly, you should know, puts you out there. But I hope you take no offense when I point out we both have things to do.”

She nodded, and apparently okay with the “puts you out there” part of his speech, she said nothing and gestured them farther into her home.

This was the living room, no tools of the trade here, and he was relieved. He didn’t judge, and a good two (or seven) toys were nice to have in your arsenal, but intimacy was intimacy.

And living life was living life.

Thea took a seat. Lucinda took a seat. And Rus looked down at Lucinda.

“Any chance you’d give us some space?” he requested.

“None at all,” she denied.

He blew out a breath and took his own seat.

“You’re here about Ezra,” Thea started it.

“Yes,” Rus confirmed. “How long has he been a client of yours?”

“Three, four years. We have a standing, every other Saturday afternoon appointment. Today is not his Saturday, by the way.”

Rus dipped his chin to note he got that, mentally documenting the lengths of Ezra’s trail of lies that as yet had gone undiscovered by his wife.

She continued. “His wife thinks he’s golfing. In the winter, no clue what he tells her he’s doing. No clue what he tells her about paying my fee. He also comes in when she’s out of town.”

“It’s my understanding he’s into pain?”

“Yes. Mild. Nothing deep, intense, physically scarring. No fire play or blood play.” Both shoulders went up then down. “It’s pretty pedestrian.”

“Have you explored deeper?”

She nodded. “In the beginning, he requested that. He didn’t like it. Used his safe word. We don’t go there now.”

“Have you been uncomfortable with any of his responses or requests?”

She shook her head and surprised him by giving him the skinny.

All of it.

“He takes a paddle. He takes a crop. Light whip work that won’t cause lasting marks. He’s ringed or caged. Likes the pain in his groin of a confined erection or not being allowed to orgasm. I honestly think that’s mostly what he enjoys, since he takes a crop there too, but he definitely likes to be dominated. Told what to do. Light disobedience so he’ll be made to do it, with pain, but not much of it.”

“Humiliation?”

“No. None. Not into that at all.” She moved to the edge of her seat. “Listen, Agent Lazarus, I’ve been doing this a long time. It’s natural, these tendencies, finding ways to live out your fantasies. It’s more normal than you know.”

“I know how normal it is,” he replied.

She took a second to assess him, saw what she needed to see, no judge and here in an official capacity. He then saw her finally relax after their rocky start.

She kept speaking.

“But I do get clients who I move out of my practice with firm guidance of where they should move on from me. I can tell it’s not about getting what they like. It’s about something else. Damage to their psyche that they shouldn’t be working out with me, or anyone like me. They need another kind of professional. Ezra has a wife who makes a lot of money. I don’t know if he loved her in the beginning, or he loved her because of the life she could give him. I do know she’s made it clear she thinks his needs are sick, and she wants nothing to do with them. He doesn’t love her now, he’s said that straight to me. But he stays with her because of what he’ll lose if he doesn’t. She doesn’t give him what he needs, that’s why he sees me. Why he sleeps with anyone else who will take him, that’s about him just being an asshole.”

“I’m assuming with all of that, you two talk and this isn’t just business?”

“We talk. He complains about his wife. He complains about his golf game. I listen. This is a safe space for him.”

“Did he ever mention Brittanie?”

She shook her head.

“I can imagine this is a safe space for all your clients,” Rus remarked. “So out of curiosity, why did you agree to speak with me about Ezra?”

She had a ready, honest reply.

“Because I don’t like him. I’ll take his money because he’s a good sub, and it’s fun to work him. But he’s a dick. This is my business. I work part-time at The Joy of Joy to augment income, but this is what pays my bills.” She tossed a hand out to indicate Misted Pines. “And where I live, I don’t get to pick and choose my clients.”

“So he comes to you just to get his kink, which is his natural proclivity. And there’s nothing deeper there that might snap and make him do something extreme?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Fucking hell.

With the way she’d been talking, he didn’t expect that response.

He glanced at Lucinda as a pulse went down his spine.

She was looking at him.

“In the beginning, when we were exploring?” Thea asked.

Rus returned to her and nodded.

“He seemed disappointed. We had discussions during aftercare. I could sense he was upset he couldn’t take more, so we explored options. We ran the gamut, or at least the gamut of what I’d offer. The only thing we added that took was ass play. But I never shook that feeling that he was searching for something else. After Cin called me, it struck me that if we didn’t try it, no self-respecting Domme like me would do it. And although I’m not into seriously extreme play, I know people who are. They don’t live close. He’d have to go to Seattle. But I suggested them to him. I don’t know if he ever tried them. I just know he never stopped coming to me. Now, if I can’t get him off as well as someone else can, he’s not going to pay me what I charge to get something that isn’t as good as he can get elsewhere. And men can’t fake orgasms, and since we have no emotional connection to speak of, he’d have no reason to do so anyway, so…”

She let that trail off.

But Rus was stuck on what she meant.

“No self-respecting Domme would do it?” he queried. “What does that mean?”

“People think anything goes in my world because it isn’t their world. And yeah, if you aren’t in the life, it’d all probably seem extreme. But there are very strict rules. There are always boundaries. And hard passes. Standard. Across the board.”

“Like?”

“If it’s illegal. Assault. Non-consent. Stranger danger that’s not set up beforehand so the person who’s being attacked didn’t consent to that attack prior. Say she, or he, just won’t know when it’s going to happen, or who’ll be doing it, but they arranged for it to be done. That kind of thing.”

Rus’s chest was beginning to feel tight.

“Do you think he’d enjoy assaulting someone?”

“No, but I think he might enjoy watching it or being made to do it.”

Fucking fuck.

He could feel Lucinda’s eyes on him.

But this…

This was a damn solid fucking lead.

The man he’d met last night was calm and collected, and an inveterate liar.

Rus had seen that before and it hid a monster underneath.

This man had been lying to his wife for years about multiple affairs, and a standing appointment with a Dominatrix.

If he could fool the woman he was living with for years, he could put two law enforcement officers off the scent for thirty minutes.

“I need to be clear I do not know that’s what he’s about,” Thea asserted. “I just know he wanted something more. And a good prostate-induced orgasm wasn’t all he wanted.”

“Is there anything else you think I should know?” Rus asked.

“Just that I’m firing him as a client. Our next session will be his last. I’ve taken on a few new subs, ones I like. I’m finally in the good place of getting overloaded. I’ve been squeezing them in”—another double-shoulder lift—“because money is money. Truth is, I need to lose someone. Which was another thing I started to think about after Cin’s call. I don’t know if he did it. I hope he didn’t, because that would mean I’d have to hire industrial cleaners to deep clean my dungeon, and I’d personally have to shower for a week. But he really is an asshole, and I’m glad to have an excuse to see the back of him that’s not going to hurt my ability to pay my cable bill.”

His phone was vibrating in his pocket, but he ignored it, stood and said, “I appreciate you talking to me.”

She stood too and came to him. “I really do hope it isn’t him. But just in case…”

She looked vaguely nauseous.

“I hope it isn’t him either.”

For your sake.

They said their goodbyes, got in the SUV, and he was digging out his phone when Lucinda said, “I apologize for how Thea started that. It wasn’t appropriate, and I inadvertently fed into it. Though, I have to admit, sharing about your good looks was part of my pitch to get her to talk to you.”

“It’s okay,” he muttered, distracted, but still processing the pleasure he felt that she said out loud she thought he was good-looking, at the same time seeing he had a missed call from Moran.

“Was she assaulted?”

The feeble tone of her voice made his attention race to her.

“She was, wasn’t she?” she whispered, her skin pale, her eyes speeding over his face.

It wasn’t professional, but then again, neither were the endearments he’d been using, and they had both moved out of the strictly professional space last night at dinner.

Touch was another matter.

However, with the look on her face, he couldn’t stop himself from cupping her jaw and leaning toward her.

“Lucinda—”

“Just tell me.”

“She was raped.”

She swallowed, closed her eyes, and turned toward the windshield.

He slid his hand to her neck, gave it a squeeze, and he didn’t like it at all, but he then had no choice but to let it slide away.

She opened her eyes.

“How’d she die, Rus?” she asked the windshield.

“The autopsy hasn’t been done yet, but preliminarily, we believe it was significant trauma to the head.”

“Violently,” she whispered despondently. “She died violently.”

Yes, she did.

His phone vibrated in his hand.

He looked down at it.

He wasn’t going to take it, but it was Moran again.

“I have to take this, honey,” he said gently.

“Do it,” she replied shortly.

He took the call. “Lazarus.”

“I know you’re interviewing someone, but you need to cut it short and come to the station right away.”

“What’s up?”

“Jace and Jess found Dakota.”

Holy shit.

Moran wasn’t finished.

“And Brittanie’s dad.”

Well.

Damn.