Maximum Guilt (Hidden Guilt Book 2) (12 page)

He moved from behind his desk and, with a vice-grip-like handshake, reached out to greet Wilcrest.

“Shut the door and have a seat,” Chief Hill said.

Hill’s mood was cold and direct. Wilcrest sat down on the other side of the giant mahogany desk and waited for him to start the meeting.

Hill got right to it. “Listen, Wilcrest. I know you have a special place in your heart for Porter, but what he’s doing right now doesn’t look good for HPD. It’s just flat-out wrong and against everything I stand for.”

“Chief, hear me out on this one. What you say is right. Not arguing that. I know it’s not protocol, what Porter’s doing, but you and I both know the best chance he’s got of finding his daughter is by doing it himself.”

“That may be so, but rules are rules. They aren’t up for debate or interpretation.”

Wilcrest knew this was an uphill battle. It almost felt like the chief’s mind was already one hundred percent made up. Maybe he had someone else in his ear on it. Wilcrest couldn’t be sure.

“I did talk to Porter this morning. He’s close. Swears he is. For everything he is or isn’t, he’s never lied to me, you, or any of us. He actually sent De Luca and a detective friend of his from New Orleans back here to solve this Widowmaker case.”

“Do we not have capable officers on it already?” the chief grumbled.

“We’ve got great guys on it, but none of them are Porter. He told me more about the case here during our five-minute call than these guys know times one hundred. And get this: the
BF
painted on the walls? Brittany Foy? She’s Stacy’s sister. Yes,
that
Stacy. How he figured that out I don’t know, but we sure as hell hadn’t.”

The chief sat there and stared, peering through Wilcrest and into his soul, or so it seemed. He remained silent for a few minutes before starting again.

“That’s good intel,” Hill said.

“I know. I’m not asking for a super-long leash for Porter, but he’s good; you know that. Hell, he might solve this Houston case from flippin’ Louisiana.”

“Can you control him? Keep up with him? Keep me briefed? I don’t want any surprises here, and I sure as hell don’t want to see HPD Detective Fill-in-the-blank in the papers. Word gets out we got guys working cases that intimately involve them, and I got questions that I don’t want to answer.”

“I believe so. Kinda putting my neck on the line here, but I always have and always will for him. We’ve all seen him grow into a fine detective—one of the best.”

“God forbid anything like this happened to one of our loved ones, but would you let another detective work a case so close to home?” Hill asked.

“Honestly, sir, I probably wouldn’t. I also don’t have another David Porter that I could put on his own case. If I did, I’d consider it.”

“What I’m hearing is Porter’s got some special privileges.”

“I don’t see it that way. But with that said, Porter’s earned some special privileges that other’s haven’t.”

“I’ll allow this to continue for now, but you better keep me up to speed every step of the way. We clear, Wilcrest?”

“Crystal,” Wilcrest added.

“For what it’s worth, I truly hope Porter finds his little girl. Not trying to be a hard-ass here.”

As Wilcrest reached the door, he stopped and turned back to Chief Hill.

“I’ll leave you with this to chew on, sir: if your daughter had been kidnapped, who would you put on the case, Porter or one of the other guys?  We should afford him no less.”

Hill stared at the captain but didn’t say another word. Wilcrest left feeling relieved. He’d managed to buy Porter more time to solve the case, at least for the time being. He knew it probably wouldn’t be the last time Hill chastised him about Porter, but his parting words to the chief still rang true. No matter how much of a conflict of interest it might be, every cop in this department would want David Porter on the case if their kid’s life was at stake.

Wilcrest pulled out his phone to text David.

Chapter 23

Pasadena, California. Jacksonville, Florida. Brooklyn, New York. Denver, Colorado. All across the United States. Every murder had the same MO: rapists brutally dismembered. There was no way Stacy, Brittany, and Marci could have committed every murder. They were too many miles apart and too close in time. I couldn’t believe what I was piecing together. They had formed a secret society—a society of scorned, hurt women out for justice. No . . . out for blood. My God! What a mess I had uncovered. How many women? How far back did the murders go? I had so many questions but not near as many answers.

The murders had been spread out over twenty years so as not to raise suspicion, I presumed. It had worked. I would probably be able to rule out one or two, but there were over ninety murders here. And now that I had turned up on their hit list, I had to believe someone would come to finish the job. I knew if I wanted to live without having to look over my shoulder every ten seconds, I’d have to catch every one of these women. One by one. I also knew it would be impossible to do alone.

Even more questions popped into my head. My mind was racing one hundred miles an hour.
Were they recruiting? How did they recruit? Where did they meet? How often?

The chirping of the desk phone startled me.

“Hello?”

“It’s me, Theresa Romero from the front desk.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“The food is ready. You comin’ to eat?”

“I thought you’d never ask. Be right there.”

When I walked into the motel lobby, the smell of Cajun paradise welcomed me. The spread laid out on the counter looked incredible.

There was a bar stooI at the front counter. I sat down and Miss Romero slapped a heavily loaded plate down in front of me.

She put her hands on her hips. “You know, when I open my restaurant I’ll be chargin’ fourteen bucks for a plate like dis.”

I shoveled a forkful into my mouth. “I believe you could easily get that and more, Miss Romero.” I dug into a steaming bowl of gumbo, cornbread, jambalaya, and crispy fried shrimp.

She leaned up against the counter. “So, you gettin' my friend out or what?”

“You were right,” I said, staring into her worn eyes.

“I know that. So you goin’ to hold up your end of the deal?”

“I always keep my word. No promises on how long it will take. I’m a long way from home where things make sense.”

“Texas? How many horses you got down there?”

“I don’t own a horse,” I said with a chuckle.

“C’mon! All Texas boys got a horse.”

“That’s the common misconception. Listen, the information you gave me led to something big – huge, actually. A vast network of bad, bad news. It’d be enough to get four or five of your friends out if they needed it.”

“Now that you mention it . . .”

We shared a laugh. I devoured the food and washed it down with some sweet tea. At least they got that much right. I still couldn’t get over being able to buy hard liquor at the convenience store or carrying your drink with you from bar to bar, but who was I to judge?

I exchanged information with Theresa, told her I’d be in touch, and headed back to my room. I spent the next hour digging up everything I could, some of which I still needed to validate.

I took out my phone and dialed Wilcrest.

“David, didn’t expect to hear from again you so soon.”

I rubbed my head. “We have a huge problem.”

“Who is we? We cops? We Houstonians? We Texans?”

“We the United States of America. Go find the chief, Lafitte, and De Luca. Sit them down in a conference room with a projector and call me back.”

“You want me to bring anyone else in on this? Maybe the president?”

“No, not right now.”

“The chief is a busy man. You sure you want to bring him in on whatever this is right now?”

“I’ve stumbled onto what might be the biggest case in my entire career. Get the chief, Cap.”

Chapter 24

“David, this better be good,” the chief said when the group was assembled and they had me back on the line.

“It’s more than you can imagine,” I said.

I made sure my laptop was positioned so the four of them could see me and began.

“Thank you all for joining me here on such short notice. I apologize, but this couldn’t wait. My investigation into Stacy and her sister Brittany has morphed into much, much, more. We are no longer searching for just those two. I believe there is an entire network or team of women just like them who are killing rapists all over the United States. I believe they’re working together.”

The chief spoke up. “That’s quite a claim, detective. Do you have any evidence to support this theory of yours?”

“I have uncovered at least ninety cases that all share the exact same characteristics as Stacy’s recent murders and the murders of the Blakes there in Houston. I even have a witness who might have accidentally overheard the genesis of their group. A local woman here in Louisiana described that conversation to me in startling detail.”

“My God!” Wilcrest said.

“I don’t even know if God can help us now,” I said.

“What else do you know, Porter?” De Luca said.

“It gets worse. The mastermind behind all of this is a woman named Marci Wingup. Well, that was her name. God only knows what it is now. She’s not some regular girl, from the looks of it; she’s a goddamn genius. Graduated valedictorian and a member of every nerd and geek squad you can imagine. President of most. So all in all, their leader is brilliant, which will make tracking her down all the more difficult.”

“This sounds like some shit right out of a movie,” Lafitte said.

“It’s no movie, my friend. They’ve become emboldened. And I believe taking me on was a challenge for them, a test. I dug deeper into a few of the cases. One vic was Lonnie Jordan: white male; age twenty-nine at the time of his murder; two rape charges to his name; married and a seemingly upstanding member of his community. He was a successful businessman involved in local politics. Seems he had a knack for young interns during his campaigns. They found him cut to pieces in a hotel room off a main highway. Oh, and this was in Pasadena, California, eight years ago. Then there’s Dr. Mark Wilson: Las Vegas, Nevada; age thirty-three; found murdered in his home five years ago. Three rape cases on his resume which had, for all intents and purposes, been buried. His wife was out of town on vacation, just like Carl Blake’s. He too had a reputation for being a ladies’ man.”

“I’m not one for handing out compliments, Porter. Everyone knows that,” Chief Hill said.

The group was silent. This could go one of two ways, and with this guy, that way was usually south. We all knew that.

“With that said, this is an amazing find. Captain Wilcrest and I had a brief conversation earlier regarding your involvement with this case. No one but the committee I was meeting with knows what I am about to say.”

What the hell was he doing? Was I about to be fired and removed from this case? I sat up straight and perked up, making sure I looked as attentive and stern as I could.

“After researching all of your case files and taking into consideration what Captain Wilcrest has said about you, coupled with this find, I know I’m making the right decision. As of now, you are heading up a new division of HPD. We’re starting a new task force. We’re calling it the MCDH—Major Crimes Division Houston—and you, Porter, will be the lead detective and supervising officer. You will also serve as captain of this team. You will no longer report to Wilcrest but will report directly to me. I am also asking that Captain Wilcrest serve in a mentor capacity. He has fifteen years’ experience as a commanding officer and can offer you a multitude of advice and guidance.

As I’m sure you are aware, you will need a team to take these women down. You can’t go it alone. After you find your daughter and return to Houston, you’ll need to pick four or five officers to work with you as detectives on your team. These can be internal or external candidates, as long as they fit your needs. I’ll give you whatever you need to make this team succeed; failure is not an option. This rapist killers club will be your first official assignment. Find this Marci Wingup and arrest as many of these women as you can. You may not catch them all, but if you take down enough of their leadership maybe they’ll disband. As time goes on, the Major Crimes Division will develop multiple subgroups, but for now you’ll act as one team.”

I heard everything Chief was telling me, but none of it really sank in. I sat in silence just trying to make sense of it all.
Captain? Major Crimes Division?

I threw my hands up. “I don’t know what to say,” I finally chimed in.

No one in that room was trying to help me out much, either.

“As you have proven again today, David, there’s no one on this planet better suited for this honor,” Wilcrest said.