Stone's Mistake Page 8

  “I don’t know,” Dimitri muttered.

  The interviewer’s hands pressed down onto the table. “Then I think we’re done here. You can go—”

  “You can’t send me back. They’ll think I snitched.”

  “You haven’t said anything.”

  “Don’t matter. They’ll think I snitched.”

  “All right, then answer my question.”

  Dimitri took a large breath and leaned into the chair, his demeanor opening. He was resigned to the conundrum he found himself in. “I take stuff to the girls.”

  “Is that all?”

  Shaking his head, Dimitri toyed with a pen on the table. “I take stuff to the boss.”

  “Which boss?”

  “The one above mine.”

  “Who is your boss?”

  “P-dog.”

  “Who is P-dog’s boss?”

  Dimitri swallowed, his shoulders tensed, and he was clearly uncomfortable. The pen between his fingers flung to the floor. “Mr. Jimmy.”

  Morgan’s heart sank. She’d heard that name before. He was one of the highest up that they knew of in the ring they were investigating. If it was true, and this boy had more information to prove that, he would need immediate protective custody not to mention a second and probably third interview.

  “What kind of stuff do you run from P-dog to Mr. Jimmy?”

  Dimitri shrugged and shook his head. “Dunno. Don’t look.”

  “How are you paid for your work?”

  Dimitri paled. His already white skin went whiter. Morgan’s heart broke again. She knew how he was paid, or rather not paid. He’d get a bonus for bringing stuff, but Mr. Jimmy obviously preferred young boys to the girls P-dog kept. She let out a breath, blinked back a few tears, and then bolstered herself with coffee for Dimitri’s answer.

  “He usually gives me cash.”

  “How much?”

  “Depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “What I bring him.”

  The interviewer paused a moment before asking the next crucial question. “Does Mr. Jimmy ask you to do anything else for him in order for you to get paid?”

  Dimitri hesitated, but he nodded.

  Morgan turned off the video. She closed her eyes, rubbed the bridge of her nose, and turned to her abandoned lunch. Pax popped over the back of the desk with a grin on his face. She pulled off her headphones and threw them onto her desk, thankful for the break before she watched the rest.

  “What’d you find out? You look all happy,” she commented.

  “I did. I got a name!” He walked around and sat down in his chair, handing her the file.

  Morgan put it to her forehead, closed her eyes. “Is it…Mr. Jimmy?”

  Pax’s jaw dropped. “How the hell did you know that?”

  Morgan giggled. “Magic.”

  Snorting, Pax rolled his eyes. “No, really. How’d you know that?”

  Turning back to her computer, Morgan pointed. “Interview with a twelve-year-old detainee. He’s a runner, would bring stuff from Reilly’s and Nicoletta’s pimp to some Mr. Jimmy. Reilly mentioned him too, albeit briefly.”

  “Reilly did?”

  Morgan nodded. “She said his name in connection with who P-dog would go to when he needed a new girl.”

  “Hmm.” Pax licked his lips. “Where’s your kid?”

  “Uhh…” Morgan looked over the file. “Wichita.”

  “My kid is here.”

  “Does that cross interstate again?”

  Pax shrugged. “We can’t prove it yet.”

  “But it’s close.” Morgan took a long sip from her cooling coffee. She’d have to top it off soon to keep it warm. Pax looked at the food on her desk. She shoved it toward him. “It’s for you.”

  “A girl after a man’s heart.”

  “Anyone knows the way to yours is food.”

  Pax shot her a look but dug into his pasta. Morgan continued to mull over the information she’d gleaned from watching Dimitri’s interview. She read over the highlights of Pax’s. There were some similarities. She’d have to ask some different questions to make sure it was the same Mr. Jimmy and to make sure the kids had enough information for them to make a move. She was tired of sitting on her hands and waiting for the right evidence to fall into their laps.

  “Your kid a foster kid?” Morgan furrowed her brow as she turned suddenly to Pax.

  “Uh…” he looked down at the papers. “Yeah.”

  “Mine too. Wonder if that’s how he’s picking his kids.”

  “Maybe.”

  “They are more at risk, but Nicoletta said something about being in the system, too.”

  Pax shuffled the papers on his desk until he found the right file. He opened it up and shook his head. “She wasn’t when she was brought into P-dog’s house, but she had been when she was two or three.”

  Morgan took a bite of her cold calzone and debated whether or not to warm it up. Deciding it’d probably end up cold again before she had a chance to finish it since she didn’t shove food down her throat like Pax did, she opted to eat it cold. “Something to look into.”

  “Absolutely. You find anything on the murder case?”

  “Yes and no.” Morgan closed down the tabs on her screen and pulled up the second file. She switched over her papers and slid them so Pax could read the words. “Here’s the full profile I’ve done up. There’s been one hit on the first victim’s credit card, first one in about a month. It was for a car rental. I’ve got an APB out on the car, but nothing has come up as of yet.”

  “You think it’s a woman?”

  Morgan turned to him, narrowing her eyes and straightening her shoulders. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s a reason I’m the profiler and you’re not. Just trust me.”

  “No. Why?”

  “She seduces them before she kills them.”

  “What?”

  Morgan rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you read the brief?”

  “Kind of?”

  Shaking her head, Morgan let out a heavy sigh. “This killer is killing solely for food, shelter, clothing, etcetera. She’s trying to find a place to live, essentially. The people just seem to get in the way. But each one has had sex with a woman prior to being murdered…well, prior or during, that is still unclear.”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “She kills them while she has sex with them?”

  Shrugging, Morgan nodded. “It would seem so. You really need to read the brief. Seriously.”

  “I’ll get on that.”

  Focusing on the computer, Morgan listened to the rest of Dimitri’s interview. He gave specific details about Mr. Jimmy raping him, multiple times, and how he got paid extra for certain things. Morgan had to pause the video several times to gather her wits before continuing.

  She checked for flags on the car that their killer had presumably rented. There were none. Unfortunately, she could be anywhere. It was going to be a while before they caught up with their killer unless they found a more specific connection between the victims, which Pax told her he was supposedly working on.

  With a glance at his computer, she could see him looking through financials on their first victim. Good, so he was at least doing what he said he would do. Financials were more his thing while she focused on profiling and behavior analysis of their perps and victims. That was why they worked so well together as a team. Fifteen years being partners, twenty years knowing each other, and Morgan wouldn’t have it any other way, except perhaps someone who was a little more comfortable with her sexuality.

  Grunting, she went back to the video. She’d have to go to Wichita and interview Dimitri herself. She wasn’t lead on the case, but she was the best at profiling, and she needed to get a good one down of Mr. Jimmy—whoever he was in real life. She wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Jimmy had nothing to do with his actual name and instead it was a euphemism.

  One more glance at Pax, and
she dove into her own work. It wasn’t long until the day was over. She’d made arrangements to fly this time to Wichita and to leave the next day. It’d be a short trip, only two or three days this time. Pax vowed he’d have the rest of the financials gone through and at least three connections between all of her victims by the time she returned.

  Nerves wrangled in her belly as she headed home. Her bedroom floor was littered with the laundry she’d vowed to do last weekend and never got around to. The trash desperately needed taking out, but she had no energy to do it. Plopping down on her couch, Morgan dragged the blanket over her legs and tried to get Dimitri’s small voice out of her head. She didn’t want to listen to him tell his story over and over again. She wanted to think better of humanity, but she couldn’t. Human beings were assholes and most of them perverted, especially the ones she dealt with.

  Grimacing, she turned on the television to watch the Hallmark channel’s Christmas special and their twenty-million Christmas romance movies they had on. When her phone rang, she glanced at the caller and groaned. Morgan shifted farther under the covers and gritted her teeth as she answered.

  “Clyde.”

  “Sis.”

  “What do you need?”

  “How dare you ask that? I’m offended!” His fake offense was evident.

  Morgan chuckled. “You don’t call unless you need something. What do you need?”

  “I was just calling to check in on my big sis. I saw the bust in Kansas. Was that you?”

  “You know I can’t answer that. Make national headlines?”

  “It did. Don’t you watch?”

  “No. I see enough of that shit at work.” Morgan glanced back at her television, missing a pinnacle moment in the show but knowing she’d likely be able to figure out what happened since it wasn’t a plot heavy movie.

  Clyde paused before he spoke again. “I need a favor.”

  “When do you not?”

  “It’s a legal one.”

  “No.”

  “Morgan, you don’t even know what it is!”

  She shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. “The answer is still no. I’m not doing anything illegal for you.”

  “It’s not illegal. It’s legal.”

  “What? What trouble did you get yourself into this time?”

  He sighed. “I got another DUI.”

  “Jesus Christ, Clyde. That’s the third one.”

  “I know. That’s why I need some legal help.”

  “I can’t help you with that. You need rehab and a swift kick in the ass.”

  He didn’t say anything. Morgan rubbed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, wishing she’d let it go to voicemail instead of answering.

  “Fine, what legal help do you need?”

  “Well, it’s my third. So…that means jail.”

  “How long?”

  “One-hundred-twenty days,” he said softly.

  “Jesus, Clyde. What’s Lauren going to do?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I need your help.”

  “I can help her. I can’t help you. You need to get your shit in order and get your ass straight. I’m serious. You’ve got to stop with this nonsense.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll help Lauren any way I can, just let me know.”

  “Thanks, sis.”

  “When do you have to report?”

  “Next week.”

  “Call before you go in, will ya?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Talk to you later. And don’t call Amya. She’s got enough of this drama going on.”

  “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  Morgan hung up and glanced to her television screen. Letting out a heavy sigh, she let herself be enveloped in the love story on the screen and push all the chaotic things in her life away from her for just a little longer. The laundry could wait one more day.

  Chapter Nine

  Morgan had gotten to Wichita only an hour before and her phone was buzzed non-stop. She’d made it to the police station where the bureau was holding up waiting for her to interview Dimitri again. But her phone would not stop ringing. Glaring, she pulled it from her pocket and rolled her eyes.

  Her mom. Again. For the billionth time.

  Sighing, she glanced at her partner for the day and issued a silent apology. Morgan knew if she didn’t deal with her mom then and there, she’d have six hundred voicemails by the end of the day. She stepped into a quiet part of the hallway, not knowing where there was anywhere else more private, and answered.

  “What is it, Ma?”

  “Are you going to do something about Clyde?” Her mother’s shrill voice echoed in her ear.

  Morgan took a deep breath and calmed her anger. “No, and neither should you. The bonehead got into his own trouble, and he needs to get out of it.”

  “I can’t live with him in prison.”

  “Ma, he broke the law, multiple times. Don’t call your kid who works the law to bail out your kid who breaks it.” She knew it would fluster and likely piss off her mom, but after three years of Clyde’s drinking and driving, Morgan had enough. He needed to grow up and deal with his own shit.

  “Well, I guess I know where you stand on family loyalty.”

  Scoffing, Morgan looked down the hall at her partner for the day who was waving her to come. “Don’t start with me. You know I’m loyal as anything to our family. Clyde needs to learn from his mistakes. Look, Ma, I got to go. I have a case I’m about to break, and I really can’t talk. If you want another opinion, call Amya. She’ll tell you the exact same thing.”

  “I already talked to her.”

  Morgan snorted. “Then there you go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Hanging up, Morgan put her phone on do-not-disturb and headed for the interview room. Dimitri looked so much smaller sitting at the table than he did on the video. He was twelve, but he was a scrawny twelve. It was obvious he’d missed a few meals and even more obvious he had suffered immeasurable trauma.

  She would have to carefully toe the line. This time, Dimitri had an advocate with him, something Morgan was extremely grateful for.

  Morgan slipped into the uncomfortable metal chair. She set her papers down and stared right at him. Once again, her heart shattered into a million little pieces. She didn’t bother with her papers yet, she’d use them later. For now, she needed to make a connection with Dimitri, and she imagined being a woman unlike his previous interviewer may work to her advantage.

  “Hey, kid.”

  He didn’t answer.

  Morgan took a steadying breath. “I guess you know why we’re here, for the most part, anyway.”

  He nodded.

  Morgan relaxed her posture in hopes it would reflect back on him and open him to talking more about what he had done for Mr. Jimmy and P-dog. “We’re here because of some stuff you told our other interviewer. Do you remember what you said to him?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” There was fire in his voice, but Morgan knew that was a good thing. Anger was an emotion, and she could work with it.

  “We’re trying to find Mr. Jimmy and take him into custody, put him in jail, but we need your help to do that.”

  “Why?”

  Morgan shook her head. “We don’t have anyone else right now who can help us.”

  Dimitri pursed his lips but didn’t say anything. Morgan figured he might be a bit harder to break than others. He’d been in the sex ring for quite some time, foster kid before that, he had walls to back up is other walls to back up even more walls. She would have to take each one down at a time.

  “You told my friend the other day that you were a runner for P-dog.”

  “Yeah. I run.”

  “What kind of things did you run?”

  “I already told him.”

  Morgan nodded slowly, keeping her body loose and calm. She knew it was what he would need. “I know, but I need you to tell me again. That way we can make sure you’re telling us the truth.”

>   “Why the fuck would I lie?”

  Morgan stiffened, but then she calmed herself. She had to keep her cool. “It’s for my bosses, you know? It’s not something I want to make you retell. It’s for them.”

  He nodded like he understood. He stared at his advocate, who encouraged him to talk with a nod. Dimitri leaned forward, his palms flat on the table top. “I’d run whatever they asked me to. Drugs, papers, money. Anytime P-dog had something for Mr. Jimmy he’d send me ‘cause Mr. Jimmy liked me.”

  “Did you ever look at what you were running?”

  “Not really.”

  “Hmm.” Morgan paused for effect. “So you did look sometimes. What did you see?”

  Dimitri shrugged, and his advocate leaned closer to him. “You can tell her, Dimitri. She’s only here to help you stay safe.”

  “She can’t keep me safe.”

  “Sure, I can,” Morgan added. “That’s my job. I’m here to keep you safe and to put Mr. Jimmy away in prison.”

  Dimitri snorted. “He ain’t going to prison. You can’t touch him.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “He’s rich.”

  Morgan swallowed. It was a common misconception by a lot of people that the rich weren’t arrested, and while they did tend to evade arrest a bit longer than normal on occasion, she could—in fact—take them down. And she planned to do it with Mr. Jimmy, especially after watching Dimitri’s first interview.

  “That doesn’t really matter in the long run. I’ll find him, and I will arrest him.”

  Dimitri shook his head. “You won’t, but whatever.”

  “Let’s get back to what you saw of what you were running. What did P-dog send to Mr. Jimmy?”

  “He sent money, a lot of it. He’d send photos sometimes.”

  “Photos of what?” Morgan resisted the urge to write. If Dimitri had been an adult, she would have grabbed her notebook and taken copious notes, but she didn’t want to lose any credibility she’d gained.

  Dimitri looked from his advocate to Morgan and then to the door behind Morgan. “Pictures of girls, mostly.”

  “Young girls?”

  Dimitri shook his head. “No, the girls P-dog would put on the street to make them money. Mr. Jimmy liked to inspect the merchandise.”