Maximum Guilt (Hidden Guilt Book 2) (7 page)

Chapter 10

Stacy felt really good about her work from the night before. That bastard deserved to die. Actually, torturing him would have been even better, but she didn’t have time for that. And it was all over the news, just like she’d wanted. Brilliant! She’d been certain the anonymous call from a screaming woman would get cops right over.

“Where are we going, Stacy? I want my daddy.”

“I told you. Karen. We’re going to spend some time with my Grammy in New Orleans. She’s going to love you, and you’re going to love her. She’s special. I need you to forget about your dad for now.”

Karen stared at Stacy without saying a word.

“We’re going to get another room tonight, Karen. I don’t drive well at night, and I’m kinda sleepy.”

“It’s okay. I like sleeping in motels.”

“Well, good.”

Stacy had gotten off the main interstate; she didn’t want a room right off I-10. When she pulled up to the motel, she got out and locked Karen in again.

Stacy didn’t care to exchange pleasantries; she wanted to get the key and be off to her room. With that mission accomplished, she plugged in her laptop and started her search for a new target.

“Stacy, can you lay with me tonight for a little bit?”

“Sure, dear. How’s that milk?”

“It’s great! Nice and warm, just how I like it.”

“Glad to see you smile, Karen.”

Within minutes the girl was out. Time to see how many potentials she had. The girl’s picture she was using wasn’t attractive at all, but using her own photo was no longer an option, as the cops would surely be trying to catfish her.

To her pleasure and surprise, she had a hit in less than twenty minutes, and he checked out.

“Let’s see here, Jon Rogers. What did they bust you for?” she muttered. “Three counts of sexual misconduct with a minor. And you’re a teacher, at that. Time to pay the piper, Mr. Rogers.”

Hey there big boy . . .

Hello

You got any pics to share? I wanna see who’s gonna turn me on tonight.

I might have one . . . what makes you think I’m gonna do anything to you tonight?

Open the pic I just sent of me shaving last night.

(30 second pause)

Hey you still there Jon? Don’t start early over there!

Yeah wow! I’m here. I’ll send a pic right away! I’ll send you my address too unless you want me to come to your house.

No, I’ll come to yours . . . let you take me in your bed, tige
r
.

Stacy checked on Karen and headed out to meet Mr. Rogers.

Guys were so stupid and so incredibly predictable.

Chapter 11

Stacy grabbed her goodie bag and bolted out the door. According to her GPS, the drive would only take about fifteen minutes, not counting a stop for gas. She pulled into the driveway and looked around to be sure no neighbors were hanging in their yards. Stacy got her lined cup and her drink concoction and walked toward Jon’s front door. She was a little annoyed because a stupid dog was barking from the backyard as she approached.

The door opened. Jon Rogers looked just like she’d assumed he would: tall, dorky, poorly dressed, and in need of a good lay.

“Wow! You’re beautiful! Hard to believe you don’t have a million guys chasing after you.”

“Who says I don’t?” Stacy said, smiling. “And besides, all I need tonight is one guy, and you’re in luck, mister.”

“I’m definitely liking my luck then. Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, I like to bring my own drinks. I’m kinda picky. I like what I like, you know.”

Jon sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him. Stacy walked over and offered a drink. She didn’t miss the tremble in his hand or the beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

“Drink this, baby. A little nervous, are you?”

“A little. It’s just . . . the girls I usually attract don’t look like you. Honestly, I’ve never been with a girl as pretty as you are.”

“Aww.  That’s cute, Jon. Don’t make me blush. So while we’re on the topic of things we usually don’t encounter, I have a confession. I’ve never told anyone this, so I’m kinda nervous. It’s a little silly, actually. Well, I’d really, really, like to . . . you know, make out with a younger guy. Like fifteen or maybe even younger. And like, just totally turn him out. Is that weird?”

Jon almost spilled.

“Well, that’s a little weird. I mean, it’s illegal, right?” Jon said.

“I’m sorry; you’re right. Maybe I should just leave. I don’t know why, but it just seems like I can trust you.”

“No, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you or make you feel bad. Okay, maybe I’ve thought about having a younger girl, too, once or twice. Nothing I would ever try to make happen, of course.”

As he said it, he looked down and away from Stacy as if ashamed.

“Of course,” Stacy said, turning her head so Jon couldn’t see the look of disgust on her face.
You piece of shit
, she thought.
You’ve been caught three times, and only God knows how many more you’ve gotten away with
. No more, though. No more.

“Already pouring us another drink?” John said as he wiped sweat from his face with the back of his hand.

“What, you some kinda girly man? Bottoms up, cowboy! You got a restroom somewhere so I could freshen up a little?”

Jon pointed Stacy in the right direction. She really just wanted a place to hang out so she didn’t have to look at him while the drugs took effect. It’d almost been ten minutes; she figured it wouldn’t take much longer.

“Hey, you okay in there?”

Jon’s speech was long, slow, and clearly slurred. Stacy heard a hint of impatience in his voice.

“I’m fine. Just wanna make sure I look my best for you, baby.”

Stacy finally came out of the restroom and tried to head for the kitchen but Jon cut her off.

“Hey, there,” he said. He stood directly in front of her, way too close for comfort. Stacy could tell he was begging for a kiss.

“One second. We’re almost there, big boy. We aren’t in a rush, are we? I got all night.”

She eased around Jon, headed for the kitchen, and poured and another glass for them both.

“You trying to get me drunk, woman?” Jon said with a smile, growing more and more confident and woozy with each passing second.

“No, baby, I just wanna make sure the edge is off so we can do everything your little heart desires.”

With that last bit of encouragement, it was bottoms up!

“Why don’t you come sit here beside me,” Stacy said. “You wouldn’t happen to have any handcuffs would you, Jon?”

“I don’t think so. You are a bad girl, aren’t you?”

“Let me look in my bag. I might have some. If I do, you wanna put ’em on for me?”

Stacy was trying her best to make sure Jon felt comfortable with the situation. She took out the cuffs, lifted her shirt, and placed the cuffs on her stomach as she lay back onto the couch. She gestured for Jon to come closer. She grabbed his head and forced his face onto her stomach. Jon nibbled. The more Stacy moaned, the harder Jon tried to please her.

“Stop, baby. Put these on for me.”

Jon did as he was told. He couldn’t seem to get his fingers to cooperate, so Stacy helped him lock the cuffs into place.

“Am I drunk?” Jon said, laughing.

“No, probably not. But you are drugged and a few minutes away from passing out. How’s that?”

“What?”

“Drugged, Jon; I drugged you.”

“Why in the hell would you do that?” He struggled to get the words out, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Because, Jon, you are a bad boy—a real bad boy. Be honest with me here, Jon. Do you like girls?”

“What the fuck do you mean? Of course I like girls! I’m not some faggot.”

“No, no. Not women like myself. Girls. Ya know, under the age of, say, eighteen. Little fucking girls, Jon.”

“What’s it to you? You a cop or something? You don’t seem like no cop.”

Stacy’s laughter filled the room.

“A cop? No, I’m not a cop, Jon. Far from it. But I will be serving justice tonight.”

Stacy walked over to her bag and grabbed her snips and duct tape.

Jon’s eyes bulged as all color left his face. It almost appeared to Stacy that he’d turned into a little boy, in a way. No bravado, no yelling, no begging—just a shaking, frightened, cornered little boy awaiting his punishment.

“Jon, I don’t know what happened to you, but—and I mean this—I really do feel sorry for you. But I have a calling, a duty, and this must be done.”

Chapter 12

My head pounded, and I was sure my eyes were sunk deep into my head. De Luca, Lafitte, and I had stayed up all night scanning the net trying to get a bead on Stacy. We’d scoured every hookup site we could dig up. I even had Fingers working on some stuff back home. We’d managed to find the profile she’d used to lure poor Sam Wilson. She’s even been brazen enough to use her own goddamn picture. None of us had been to sleep. I didn’t plan on sleeping until I found Stacy and got Karen back.

“I’m sorry, guys. This all night shit ain’t my cup of tea. I’m too old for this shit. I could use a cup of coffee. How about you guys?” Lafitte said.

“You guys just soft down here,” De Luca said with a smile.

“Yeah well, soft or not I need some coffee. You guys want anything?”

“Why not? Biggest cup they have, two creams, two sugars,” I said.

“And you, Superwoman?”

“Get me whatever you get girly-man.”

Lafitte left to make the coffee run. I wanted food, too, but first things first.

I logged into my email. Fingers had sent me everything he could find out about Stacy.

“Let’s see what we got here. So, Stacy grows up in New Orleans. Spends some time living with her grandmother, uncle, and in multiple foster homes.”

“Yeah, and somewhere along the way somebody took advantage of her, and I’m willing to bet it happened more than once,” De Luca said.

“Nothing’s in her file, but I would have to agree. We know this girl is damage goods.”

De Luca pulled a chair next to mine and browsed through the files with me. We gave each other a hard time, but I was glad she’d come with me to work on this case.

“So what’s the deal on this sister? We know anything about her?” she said.

“No. I’m texting Fingers now. I need him to dig deeper.”

We made it all the way through Stacy’s file. Not a darn thing. Nothing that seemed too useful right off the bat, anyway. Our best piece of intel was the fact that she had a sister – we didn’t even have a name. Now if we could only find her. And even if we did, would she be of any use?

Lafitte kicked the door open, hands full with three coffees.

“Thanks for the hand, guys.”

“Do you ever stop moaning and bitching?” De Luca said with a grin on her face.

“Just come get your coffee, pretty lady. You know, you’re lucky I’m sweet on you.”

I took my coffee from Lafitte, and De Luca and I made a second pass through Stacy’s file. We had to have missed something.

“David, come take a look at this,” Lafitte said, motioning me over to his computer.

“Well I’ll be. Didn’t take her long at all, did it? Morgan City man found cut up in his own home. Jon Rogers. No witnesses. No one heard a thing.”

“You were right about her heading east. Looks like she might be headed for New Orleans after all, David,” Lafitte said.

“Guess we’re headed to Morgan City?” De Luca said.

“No, not yet,” I said.

I wanted to spend a few hours sifting through the evidence that had been uploaded from the Houston killing a few days earlier. Before things got too stale, I needed to dig as deep as I could.

“Before we pack up, let’s spend some time going over the John Blake murder.”

“You looking for anything specific, David? I mean, I’m sure the boys back in Houston are working on it, aren’t they?” De Luca said.”

“Yes, but they don’t know everything we know.  I’m just looking for a break here any way I can get it.”

She gave me her maybe-you’re-right look and said nothing else. We all sat down in front of our laptops and read through the details of the Blake murder.

“You guys notice anything out of the norm here? I’m not seeing a thing.” I said, leaning back in my chair.

“Me either,” Lafitte said.

“John Blake has no criminal background, so why was he targeted? Seemingly no enemies, something isn’t adding up.”