Unfair Advantage

CHAPTER THREE



Dani couldn\'t see the boy\'s face. But recognized him on a visceral level. "Michael?"



"Yes."



"Are you all right?"



"It doesn\'t hurt anymore."



His answer broke her heart. "That\'s good." She pushed her hair behind her ears. Fear ebbed, replaced by somber responsibility. "Why did you come to me?"



He stood perfectly still, a small slender backlit black shape. "Can the bad man find me here?"



"No, you\'re safe."



"He made me do things I didn\'t like."



Dani\'s stomach churned. "You\'re not to blame for that."



"Is my Mommy looking for me?"



She considered what to say. "She knows where you are." Although it seemed cruel, Dani had to take the opportunity to question him. "Your Mommy is looking for the bad man. Could you tell me where she can find him?"



"He kept me in a room."



"In a house? An apartment?"



"I don\'t know. When I woke up, I was tied in a room."



Waves of fear, despair washed over her. Residual emotion from him, maybe. "Do you know the bad man\'s name?"



"No. He hit me and burned me when I didn\'t do what he told me to."



She\'d seen the bruised and scorched flesh. "That\'s over now.""My grandmother\'s calling me. I have to go." He turned, showing his features in profile and walked down the hall.



Dani leapt from bed, rushed after him. "Michael, wait." She turned the corner into the living room.



Nothing.



He\'d vanished.







Brand had a request for something special from a client. He\'d already recruited a hooker. The kid he\'d interviewed and offered the gig to should arrive soon.



In a red dress that her tits nearly spilled out of, she sat sprawled in the single chair. "So this like teenager is a virgin and I\'m popping his cherry?"



He could see up her skirt to her torn black lace panties. "That\'s the arrangement we settled on."



"Want me to do you while we wait?"



Brand went to the window, glanced down at the street. "No." The kid, Tad, came striding up the sidewalk, and disappeared into the building. Brand went to the door. He\'d settled on using this apartment for this type of filming. The timid knock disgusted him. People were such weaklings.



Getting decent footage proved difficult. The kid came the instant she went down on him. The hooker worked him hard again. She lie back on the cushions. Tad looked at her pussy and climaxed. He flushed with shame. She giggled. Said something stupid about a short fuse and her good stuff lighting it.



Brand waited yet again. Who\'d think getting a horny teenager to stick his dick into a woman would prove so tough?



When they finally got the money shot, Brand paid them both cash. The hooker gave the kid her number and they left together.



Watching a bumbling kid hump a ten-dollar prostitute didn\'t do a thing for Brand. He closed up the small Queens apartment, went to his place in Manhattan, edited the footage. Before calling it a night, he contacted the client via email, loaded the twenty minutes of footage into the private viewing room of the site. Brand checked his Cayman island account. Soon as the money showed, he sent the client the entry code for the viewing room.



His turn now. Brand dialed the phone.



Julia answered. "Hello?"



"It\'s Brand."



"Mayan and Renee are both available."



"Send Mayan. She\'ll be coming back worse for wear."



"The usual fees will apply."



"No problem."



Brand hung up, went to pour himself a vodka rocks.







Mayan couldn\'t control her emotions during the ride to his place. She would have laughed if it didn’t sound so pathetic. A call girl in love with a john. For Christ\'s sake, she didn\'t even know his name.



The doorman admitted her, gave a chilly, "The penthouse expects you."



She rushed to the private elevator. Her legs trembled. The doors parted. Excitement soaked her panties. She stepped into the foyer, set her purse on the table. Only a few candles lit the huge apartment. Mayan took a few steps, glanced around, walked further into the sitting area.



He grabbed her from behind, shoved her over the back of the couch, lifting her skirt. He ripped off her panties. His big condom-encased erection shoved up inside her.



Mayan cried out.



"All this wetness for me?"



"Yes."



"You know what you\'re getting into when you come here. You like it."



His erection stretching and filling her made coherent thought difficult. "Yes."



"Good."



He restrained her, leaned down to bite the back of her neck. He clamped his teeth on her, thrust rough and fast. Mated her like an animal.



Mayan climaxed twice. Crying a little the second time. The one-sidedness of the love affair brought the tears. She didn\'t try to hide them. He\'d told her before he considered them a bonus.







Roarke saw the unlisted read on the caller ID, answered, "Larkin."



"It\'s Dani Richards."



He dropped the towel he\'d stood rubbing his hair with. "Good morning."



"I don\'t know how to tell you this."



He paused, responded. "Just tell me."



"Last night I saw Michael Allen."



In the street, kids shouted. They had a game of kickball just about every Saturday. "Really?"



"It\'s the first in over eight months I’ve seen something like that. I woke up, there he stood in the doorway between the hall and my bedroom."



Roarke walked to the window, looked out through the blind. "Did you talk to him?"



"Yes. He remembered me from the morgue. I don\'t think he knew he was dead. I-"



"Whoa. Time out. You actually spoke to a ghost?" His mother raised him on tales of banshees, spirits, fairies, selkies and curses. But that sure as hell didn\'t mean he believed in them.



A pause. "Maybe I could meet you halfway. This might be easier face-to-face. Are you familiar with Havewick?"



"Yeah." He glanced at the clock. "There\'re a few shops. A little inn with a restaurant. The Hound and Horse."



"Could we meet there?"



"I can get there by noon."



"I\'ll see you then." She hung up.



Roarke clicked off the cordless phone, tossed it onto the unmade bed. He stood naked, cursing this entire situation. Then, he dressed and headed for Havewick.







Dani made the drive in turmoil of dread, anxiety and self-recrimination. She shouldn\'t have told him. How could she not? Why had she thought discussing this in person would make it easier?



She pulled into the parking lot of The Hound and Horse. Locking up the Toyota, she walked toward the inn\'s impressive double door front entrance. She paused inside the very English lobby, allowed her vision to adjust. He rose from a fireside wingback. Wearing a white tee, stone washed jeans and cowboy boots he looked very masculine. At ease.



Lord of the manor in denim and leather.



Dani\'s stomach turned a curious cartwheel. For a split second she imagined she\'d come here for a sensual rendezvous. Since gaining the ability to perceive via touch, she hadn\'t dared so much as a kiss. Ashlyn and Dani\'s parents provided a safe experience. Anyone else tended to overwhelm her. Reining in her errant thoughts, she took a deep breath.



He spoke first. "I had a word with the manager. He\'s offered a meeting room to us."



"Thank you."



"This way."



She followed him down a hall. He held open the door for her. A lovely polished wood table and chairs sat on an Oriental carpet mid-room. He closed the door behind them. She flinched.



"Would you prefer it left open?"



Dani didn\'t want him to see her anxiousness. "No, I\'m fine."



He pulled out a chair for her. She slid into it. Across the table, he did the same. "I won\'t mince words. The idea of seeing a ghost, let alone talking to it is something I can\'t buy."



Dani folded her hands in her lap atop her purse. "I understand."



"Tell me why I should believe you?"



Something flickered between them. A current of energy originating with him. Dani braved his direct stare. "Because you drove forty minutes to hear it."



"On my day off," he added, apparently unruffled at finding himself caught.



"That, too."



"I want to believe, Miss Richards."



"Dani."



Hesitation, "It would make my life easier to have someone who could shed light on this case. At risk of crossing the line here, I have to admit we can\'t even prove the same guy is responsible for all the murders. Could be a classic disciple-mentor situation. A group even."



Confused, she repeated, "All? Michael was number two."



"Six."



"Oh my God."



"He\'s smart, forensically knowledgeable, a pedophile and motivated. That\'s all we know."



Dani felt ill. The images of Michael\'s tortured body returned in a rush. In a choked whisper she pleaded, "Please don\'t tell me any more."



"We have to come to an understanding. I intend to talk to everybody on the list you gave me. I\'ll talk to doctors, shrinks, nurses, janitors. Everyone. If you check out, and I can use you with confidence, I will."



An unexpected pain lanced her at the word. "Use me?" The fear of having her talents public knowledge would lead to that. Those who didn\'t wish to use her for finding missing loved ones would use her for entertaining media speculation.



"If that term offends, I\'ll find another."



Dani composed herself by degrees. "Whether you believe me or not, Michael told me he woke tied in a room. That\'s far less than I gave you before. I\'m sorry."



"I\'ll note it in my file."



"Detective, I\'m not certain why I felt compelled to speak to you in person today, except that on some level I know you\'ll soon want me for your bloodhound. I need assurances my collaboration in the investigation will remain strictly anonymous."



He studied her for a moment. "I don\'t make promises I can\'t keep. So I can only promise that for my part, I will shield and protect you in every way I can."



"This is one of those times," she told him, words measured, "that I can see ahead."



"What is it you see?"



"It won\'t be long, detective, before you\'ll have to make good on that."







Roarke didn\'t sleep. He gave up trying at four, showered, dressed and called Fielding. Tim arrived, blond hair standing up in irregular spikes, bleary-eyed, tie crooked.



"You look professional."



"Fuck off, Larkin. It\'s practically the middle of the night."



"We\'re only up about an hour early."



"Hours are like inches. In certain situations they make all the difference."



Roarke grabbed his keys and phone. "Let\'s go. We\'ll call this in on the way."



An hour later they arrived at the hospital where Dani received treatment after the accident. Fielding had called ahead. At least one of the doctors and two nurses would still be on shift for interview. Roarke stopped at the front desk, showed credentials. "Detectives Larkin and Fielding."



"We were told to expect you." The woman in candy-stripe uniform stood, round the desk. "Follow me, please." Outside the ICU ward, she said, "Wait here."



Moments later a trim gray-haired man mid-sixties maybe, emerged through the swinging doors, clipboard in hand. "Detectives?"



"Yes, sir," Roarke replied.



"ID, please." After he\'d looked over badges, then the release Roarke produced, Doctor Perries pushed up his silver-rimmed glasses. "I don\'t like discussing Miss Richards, gentlemen. Nothing personal against her, mind you. But, she cost not only this establishment, but the medical field an exceptional doctor and two wonderful nurses."



"Wow. How is that?"



Roarke wished his partner could contain his eagerness. "Excuse Detective Fielding, this case is important."



"Has Miss Richards been hurt?"



"No, sir," Roarke responded. "We\'re checking a few things that could relate to another case."



"Well, as I said, it was her fault they left."



Fielding piped up, "Could you explain?"



"When she first came to, she was hysterical. Kept asking who all the people were in the room. She became so agitated she tore out her IV. We had to restrain her, put the needle in the other arm and sedate her heavily."



Fielding again. "That\'s nothing they hadn\'t seen. What was the deal breaker?"



"Miss Richards quieted for the most part. But her eyes tracked around the room. She whispered night and day. Finally one of the nurses asked her to describe what she saw. Miss Richards explained in detail about the \'people\' she insisted patrolled her room and the hall outside. She said that one in particular upset her. Miss Richards\' description of that woman terrified the nurse. It perfectly described a woman brought from the psychiatric ward to ICU who died eight days before Miss Richards arrived."



"Holy shit!"



Roarke wanted to kick his partner. "These descriptions she gave matched patients who\'d passed away here?"



"I hated to admit it, but yes. Most of them from accidents, sudden fatal complications, that sort of thing. Disturbing staff the most were the accurate CODs on the deceased’s. Nurses couldn\'t stand the idea of spirits wandering around them. Doctor Mosley recognized several of the patients as ones he\'d agonized over losing. He resigned within days."



"Did Miss Richards give indication of post traumatic stress?" He wanted to eliminate variables. "Any other medical problem that could cause delusions?"



"Not when she left us. I signed the discharge papers myself."



"Thank you for your time, doctor." Roarke offered his hand, shook with Dr. Perries. “We’ve kept you long enough.”



During the rest of the morning and early afternoon, Roarke questioned via phone the employees of the \'private retreat\' where Dani spent her time before buying the cabin.Roarke faxed the privilege release forms, questioned everyone still on staff from when Dani stayed. He got glowing reports about her strength and spirit. Her determination to adapt and overcome.



Inner Peace Sanctuary of Sedona specialized in treating people recovering from personal losses ranging from limbs to children or spouses, also traumatic events. The eighty-acre grounds offered a variety of exercise activities for rehabilitating body and spirit. A full service spa, team of twenty personal \'guides\', nine psychologists, a yogi, two Tai Chi instructors and recuperative nutritionists rounded out the specialty staff. Private cottages, public social area and a five star restaurant supervised by the nutrition experts also recommended the Sanctuary.



The day\'s discoveries had Fielding in a froth. As they waited for hot dogs at a street cart, he said, "I told you, Larkin." He bit into his lunch, chewed. "She\'s the genuine article. The real deal."



"Let me tell you what we got." To the vendor, he said, "Mustard, no onions on that one." Roarke handed the vendor cash for both purchases. "Fielding, we have six dead kids. A killer or killers who are kicking our ass. And, one psychic tour guide in this goose chase guaranteed to be the weakest link even if she\'s the best hope we have."