By Any Means (21 page)

“If Amina would like, we can take a break,” said Ash. Leena and Amina spoke for a moment.

“She wants to finish,” said Leena. “She wants to get this done.”

“Can she tell us about Indianapolis?” asked Havelock. “We'll talk at whatever pace she's comfortable with.”

Tears ran down Amina's cheeks as she spoke.

“It was late when they arrived at the bed-and-breakfast. There were cots in the basement and other girls there, but she and Faria were the only girls who spoke Urdu. Amina thought they were there to join the cleaning staff, but on her first night, two men who worked at the bed-and-breakfast got her out of her cot. They took her to one of the rooms upstairs and made her drink something. She said it burned her throat. Then they made her take some pills that made her tired. She couldn't move.”

Ash could feel his heart thumping against his rib cage. Amina cried steadily now.

“Did they hurt her?” asked Claire.

Leena took a breath. “They raped her, yes.”

He knew it was coming, but it still hurt to hear.

“Could she identify those men if she saw them again?” he asked.

Leena translated the question and then nodded when Amina spoke.

“She thinks so. She said they had paint on their arms. I think she means tattoos.”

Marvin Spencer, the man they had picked up at the B&B had tattoos on his arms. Ash might not be able to prove that Spencer assaulted her yet, but that didn't matter. Many of the men in Indiana's prisons had committed crimes so awful they'd never see an open field again. Many also had children of their own, and they wouldn't take kindly to men who drugged and raped a defenseless seventeen-year-old girl. Spencer would be dead within a week if they didn't do anything. As much as that appealed to Ash, he couldn't condone his murder. They'd have to put him in protective custody.

“How about her sister, Faria? Was she hurt, too?”

Amina trembled, but then nodded. Faria was fifteen years old. The thought made Ash want to reconsider putting Spencer in protective custody. “Did those men assault her often?”

“Not them,” said Leena, translating. “There were new men every night. Three or four sometimes. Ann told her that she earned fifty dollars every time she was with a client. Amina said she pretended she was married to them because it made it easier. After a big night, Ann would sometimes give her makeup and chocolate. She shared it with her sister. Some of the girls fought with her because of that. They didn't get as much.”

“Did any of the girls ever try to escape?” asked Clair.

Amina didn't say anything for a moment. Leena rubbed her arm, encouraging her to speak.

“She said she didn't have anywhere to go, so she focused on the ledger. That was her only way out. Ann told her that if she ran away, they'd kill Faria and her family in Pakistan.”

“What about others?” asked Havelock. “Did others try to escape?”

“Amina says a girl named Iskra did,” said Leena. “A regular client walked her out. Nobody saw her again. They put locks on the doors after that.”

“How long was she at the Dandelion Inn?” asked Ash.

It took Leena a few minutes to get an answer from her.

“She doesn't know. She kept track of days at first, but she stopped doing that after a month. She didn't have another way to keep track.”

Havelock looked at Clair and then to Ash.

“I think this is a good start,” he said. “We'll have to talk to Amina again, but I have enough to go on for now.”

Amina must have sensed the conversation had come to an end because she started speaking rapidly.

“Amina wants to know if her sister is okay,” said Leena, looking at Ash. “No one has told her.”

Ash looked at Havelock and Clair and raised his eyebrows.

“Faria was taken again last night,” said Havelock. “We're doing everything we can to find her.”

Amina took the answer more stoically than Ash expected. She simply nodded, accepting the tragedy as if it were simply another, expected part of life. It was unfair. Ash cleared his throat.

“If she's okay with answering it,” he said, “I have one more question. Can you ask if Amina has ever heard of someone named Kara Elliot? Or Konstantin Bukoholov?”

Amina nodded and spoke as soon as Leena translated the question.

“She didn't know Kara Elliot, but she met Daniel Elliot. He was a regular client, but he never touched anyone. He would rent a girl for the entire night and let her sleep alone on the bed while he stayed in a chair. He would leave the next morning. He did that twice with Amina. They were the only two nights she had at the bed-and-breakfast where she wasn't forced to sleep with a stranger. He was also the man who took Iskra.”

At first, Ash was so appalled by the concept of renting a girl for the night that he didn't hear the rest of what Amina said. Then it hit him.

Daniel Elliot, Kara Elliot's husband, rescued a girl. Ash didn't know how much a single girl in a brothel like the Dandelion Inn could earn over her lifetime, but it likely reached well into the six figures. He had seen people murder someone over thirty bucks found in a lost wallet; a couple hundred grand provided a hell of a lot of motive, enough even to bring in a specialist like Palmer. He killed Kara and Daniel Elliot, probably while trying to recapture Iskra.

If he was right about that, he finally understood Bukoholov's connection. The old man didn't have an interest in the club; he wanted to find the people who killed his family. Ash couldn't prove anything, but the theory fit what he knew so far. That could make things ugly.

Ash looked at Leena.

“Please thank Amina from the bottom of my heart for talking to us. We'll do everything we possibly can for her and her sister,” he said. He looked at Havelock and then Clair. “We need to talk outside.”

A
sh pulled the door shut behind him as he escorted Clair and Agent Havelock from the room. Aside from his own footsteps, Ash heard little in the hallway. With what happened the night before, there didn't seem to be a lot of demand for beds on that floor. Ash's hands practically shook as he scratched an itch on the back of his head.

“I held back before,” he said. “Bukoholov tipped me off to the Dandelion Inn.”

Clair crossed her arms. “Why the sudden bout of honesty?”

“Because the man who killed his daughter still has at least seven girls, including Amina's little sister. We need to find them before Bukoholov does.”

“You think he'd kill them if he found them first?” asked Havelock.

“No,” said Ash. “But if we don't find them first, they might get caught somewhere we don't want them to be.”

Clair stared at him for a moment, but then broke eye contact and looked at Havelock.

“Thank you for the information,” she said. “We'll try to keep your office informed about our investigation.”

“That's not enough,” said Ash. “What are you going to do? We need to work together.”

“We don't have to do—” began Clair.

“I'll call Chief Reddington,” said Havelock, interrupting her. “We will work with your department where appropriate, but our victims are likely well outside your jurisdiction right now. If we need you specifically, I'll call.” He looked up and waved over one of the agents from the elevator. “Unless you need to speak with Amina further, James will escort you to your car.”

Ash didn't like to admit it, but Havelock had raised a fair point. IMPD's jurisdiction extended to the city's borders but no farther. The state police could investigate anywhere in Indiana, but even their jurisdiction had limits. The FBI had the clearest mandate and was in the best position to help of any agency they could bring in. It still stung a little to admit that.

“No need for the escort,” said Ash. “I'm not going to cause a problem.”

Havelock smiled. “Then enjoy your vacation. We'll be in touch if we need you.”

“Thank you,” said Ash, turning toward the elevator. The same agent who had escorted Ash earlier followed him through the lobby and to the hospital's front door. When he arrived at his car, he took out his cell phone and sent an
e-mail
to one of his old law professors who taught courses in transnational crime and international law. She had written papers on human trafficking, so she knew the laws relating to it better than he did. Even though Amina had been brought to the U.S. against her will, Ash would still have to work with Pakistan's consulate and the State Department to secure an emergency visa for her. After that, he'd have to figure out how to pay for her medical care. The hospital might write off her bills, but they might not. It'd be better to find a charity now that could help her out. Help from an attorney who specialized in those sorts of cases would be very welcome.

Once he finished that e-mail, he called Mike Bowers.

“I hope you're not calling to postpone our meeting this afternoon,” said Bowers upon picking up. “A lot of people have had to rearrange their schedules for it.”

“No, we're still on for that,” said Ash. He turned on his car and put the air conditioning to high. “I just got out of an interview with Kevin Havelock from the Bureau and Clair Eckert from the U.S. Attorney's Office. I think you should hear some of the things I found out.”

“You're talking about the interview with the Pakistani girl, right?”

“Yeah,” said Ash.

“If you're her lawyer, wouldn't you be violating her privacy by talking to me?”

“No. The privilege doesn't extend to attorney-client conversations if there's a third party present. There were several in the room with us.”

“Okay,” said Bowers. “Tell me what you found out.”

Ash led him through the interview as well as he could. Even after Ash finished speaking, Bowers didn't say anything.

“So now you know everything I know,” said Ash. “How do you want to handle this?”

Bowers grunted. “It sounds like our hands are tied. The Dandelion Inn is in Hancock County, so we can't touch that. Rebecca was murdered in Tippecanoe County, so that's not ours, either. If you're right and the girls are outside Marion County, they're out of our reach, too. We don't have a lot we can do.”

“Who's working Kara's and Daniel Elliot's murders? They were killed in town, so they should be ours.”

“Doran and Smith know the evidence, so they're still on it.”

Ash exhaled loudly. “Has either of them even worked a homicide before?”

“Yeah, Doran has. He transferred out a couple of years ago because he didn't like the hours. They'll do right by the case.”

Ash blinked. “I know you told me to take a few days off, but I found Kara and Daniel, I found Rebecca, and I talked to Palmer. I know this case better than anyone in our department.”

“After what you saw, I don't even think you're fit to resume your duties as a community relations officer, let alone leading a major homicide investigation.”

“I'm fine. I really am.”

“You're not fine, and we both know that,” said Bowers. He paused for a few beats. “Even if I put you on leave, it's not going to change what you do, will it?”

“Palmer killed three people and helped abduct seven children, Mike.”

“So that's a no,” he said. “Fine. You can work the case, but since you're still temporarily under my command, I'll put you on limited duty as our liaison officer for this case. You'll work with the state police, the Bureau, and our detective division to keep everybody up to date. I'm also going to call Aleda Tovar, your CO in Community Relations, and tell her what's going on. Once this case is done, you're going back to her and she'll have the ultimate authority about your status, but I'm going to recommend you see a station psychiatrist before you resume active duty.”

“Chief Reddington didn't seem too happy the last time I saw him. Is he okay with this?”

Bowers took a breath. “He will be. This is an important job, so if you go AWOL, I'm going to take the fall as much as you. That won't happen, will it?”

“I'll do my best. Do Doran and Smith have anything on the Elliot murder yet?”

“I'll make sure they brief you,” said Bowers. “Just to be crystal clear, you are not a field officer on this case. You've got a badge, but I don't want you doing anything stupid.”

“I've got it.”

“Good. I'll see you in a bit.”

Bowers hung up. Almost instinctively, Ash started driving back to the station. He stopped at the end of the parking lot, though. As the liaison officer, he needed to talk to everyone involved with the case, and while Bukoholov wouldn't make any official reports, he had a better criminal intelligence apparatus than either the Bureau or IMPD. Assuming he'd give it, his help could be invaluable. Of course, if someone from his department or the FBI caught him visiting Bukoholov, he'd be off the case immediately and possibly out of a job. Normally, that would have swayed him to stay away, but given that they had multiple victims still unaccounted for, the risks seemed worth it, at least once he had given himself some protection.

Ash searched for the nearest electronics store with his cell phone and headed over. Once there, he bought a prepaid cell phone and some airtime with cash and allowed the kid behind the counter to set it up for him. Bukoholov wouldn't recognize the number, but that didn't matter as long as Ash sent the right message. He thumbed it in as he walked back to his car.

I'm the guy who shot your nephew a year and a half ago. Call me on a clean phone.

Within two minutes of sending the text, Ash had a call back from a number he didn't recognize. He answered and heard a train in the background on the other end.

“Is this you?” he asked.

“Unless you shot someone else's nephew,” said Bukoholov. “What do you want?”

“I had hoped to talk to you for a few minutes.”

Bukoholov paused until the train passed. “Unfortunately, I'm out of town for a few days. Come by my bar next week. We can set up an appointment to talk then.”

“Where are you? I'll drive out to meet you.”

“I'm out of town.”

Ash looked around to make sure no one was watching his vehicle. “I know what you're doing. I know Kara Elliot was your daughter.”

“My family affairs are none of your concern. Leave it be, Detective.”

“Let us handle this. We're going to get the men who killed her. That's what we do, and we're very good at it.”

“Not this time,” said Bukoholov. He hung up the phone, and Ash stayed still for a moment. The old man had never blown him off like that before, so the abrupt end to the conversation came as something of a surprise.

That could have gone better.

Ash slipped his phone into his pocket but stayed still in the car to think. He had reached the point in his case when things usually started falling together. Instead, this case had fallen apart. Palmer had killed Rebecca and then disappeared before anyone could find him. Worse, Palmer's colleagues had abducted seven teenage girls so they could rent them by the hour as if they were cheap motel rooms.

Ash's hands shook. They hadn't done that for almost eight months, but he hadn't wanted a drink that bad in at least eight months. He could see two bars from where he stood, at least one of which served a full menu. Plenty of people had drinks with lunch, so no one would even look at him twice for ordering something. Of course, he wouldn't be able to look at himself for breaking the fast with a shot of bourbon. He needed to focus on something productive.

Ash took a deep breath and forced his mind back to his case. They needed to find Palmer, but unfortunately, they didn't know a lot about him yet. The detectives from Tippecanoe County might be able to find something in the barn where he found Rebecca, but they had a lot of ground to cover and a lot of evidence to comb through. They'd be slow, possibly too slow to be useful for him. The sheriff's department in Hancock County, likewise, would do a good job at the bed-and-breakfast, but it would take a while for their investigation to get off the ground. That didn't leave them with a lot of options.

Kara and Daniel Elliot. If Daniel was really killed for what he did at the Dandelion Inn, Marvin Spencer might know something. Talking to him beat sitting around, at least. Ash drove back to the station and took the elevator to the Aggravated Assault unit. Like the homicide unit, the Agg Assault guys had a bullpen instead of private offices. Ash spotted Tim Smith at a desk beneath the windows on the far side of the room and started over. Smith looked up before he made it even halfway.

“You here to get me fired like you got Alvarez fired?”

Ash straightened. “He's on administrative leave. No one's fired him yet.”

“That help you sleep at night?” asked Smith. “Knowing a guy with three kids and a wife hasn't been fired yet?”

“Whether you believe it or not, I did the right thing. Alvarez is a good man and I don't want him fired, but if he is he'll get another job and be able to go home to tuck those kids in at night. If he stays on the street, he'll eventually go home in a coffin.”

Smith leaned back and scratched his forehead with his middle finger. Ash crossed his arms.

“I appreciate your professionalism.”

“Did you say something?” asked Smith, pushing his left ear forward with his still extended middle finger. “I didn't hear you.”

Ash could have written him up for insubordination, but he didn't think doing so would help his reputation much.

“I'm here to work,” said Ash. “What are you here for?”

“Free coffee?” asked Smith, shrugging.

“Where's Greg?”

“Who?”

Ash clenched his teeth and counted to five before answering. “Your partner.”

“Oh,
Detective Doran
,” said Smith. “He's at home. His daughter's going to college in a few weeks, so he's helping her pack.”

“Why isn't he here working the Elliot case?”

Smith shrugged. “Nothing to work.”

“Are you telling me you have Palmer in custody?” asked Ash.

Smith didn't say anything for a few seconds, but then he crossed his arms. “Not at this time, but we'll get him.”

“So you're telling me you have nothing to do at all,” said Ash. “Just to be clear.”

Smith shrugged. “What can you do? The sergeant supervising us on this case—that's you, by the way—has been AWOL.”

“Did you ever get into Daniel and Kara's house?”

“Yep, but somebody torched it. The arson investigator found signs of an accelerant inside.”

“Like gas?”

“That is an example of an accelerant, Sergeant Rashid.”

Ash felt his temper rising, so he forced a measure of calmness into his voice he didn't feel. “Did the arson investigator tell you what sort of accelerant was used?”

“He's still analyzing it.”

“Good,” said Ash, carefully thinking through his next question to minimize Smith's ability to give him a one-word answer. “Was anyone able to tell you when this fire happened?”

“Yeah.”

Ash closed his eyes. “Who told you and what time was it?”

“Old lady next door said she took her dog out for a walk at around eight, and the house was still standing. By the time she came back, someone had lit it up.”

“Did the arson squad find anything salvageable in the house?”

“A safe, but it was open when they got there. Nothing but ashes inside.”

Ash nodded to himself. He could only think of two people with a potential motive to burn the place: Konstantin Bukoholov or Palmer. Whoever did it had a reason, probably in an attempt to hide evidence. If the Elliots kept evidence of something criminal at home, they might have kept it elsewhere, too.