Once Craved (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #3) (18 page)

“It won’t do to just
go charging in as FBI,” she said. “We’d never nail the suspect that way. And
believe me, the girls won’t talk to us.”

“You’ll just have to
get them to talk,” Morley said.

A long silence
followed, and in that silence, slowly, Riley came to a decision.

“There’s only one
way to do that,” Riley said.

They looked at her.

“I’m going
undercover.”

“Exactly how do you
intend to do that?” Morley asked.

“I’ll join the
hookers,” Riley explained.

Bill looked stunned,
while Morley stared at her, frowning.

Bill sputtered, “At
the truck stop?”

Riley nodded.

“That’s too
dangerous,” Bill protested. “You’ll make yourself bait for a killer.”

Riley was thinking
the same thing. But she was also thinking of these other girls’ lives, of the
urgency of time. She could not sit idly by while another girl died.

“It’s out of the
question,” Morley said. “I won’t authorize it.”

She stood.

“I’m not asking for
authorization,” she said. “I’m doing it.”

Bill pulled into the
Desert King truck stop and parked the big car he’d checked out from the FBI. He
chose a space far enough from the main building not to draw too much attention
from anyone inside, but close enough to watch all the comings and goings. He
had insisted that if Riley was going undercover as a prostitute, he was going
to be at the truck stop too.

He had to admit that
going undercover was actually a pretty good idea, even if it might be
dangerous. If their killer really was stalking victims around here, she might
be able to draw him out, maybe even stop him cold.

Riley hadn’t shown
up yet, though. She’d told Bill she had to stop and find some more appropriate
clothes. He didn’t know how long that might take, but she was planning to head
straight into the bar when she got here. Bill would keep an eye on things
outside and give her backup if she needed it. He noted that the convenience
store and the Iguana Lounge were housed in a single building, so he should be
able see whoever went in and out of either place.

He also hoped to
talk to some of the women, find out whatever he could about the man who had
alarmed them. They must deal with some weird characters on a regular basis, and
he had to wonder what could be so different about this one.

Of course, he didn’t
expect any of them to talk openly to an FBI agent. He had decided to pose as a
john.

 “Here goes nothing,”
he murmured to himself aloud.

He got out of the
car and stood leaning against it, hoping to look like a potential customer. He
saw four scantily clad women standing just outside the convenience store. He
waved in their direction and they all looked at him.

He smiled and nodded
toward his car. They stared at him for a moment, then huddled a bit closer
together, making no move in his direction.

I must be doing
something wrong,
he thought.

He saw another pair
of women wending their way among the cars toward the building. This time he
whistled to get their attention. They looked at him, and he waved. They kept
walking toward the building a little faster than before.

Then he heard a
woman’s voice nearby.

“Fish not biting
tonight, huh?”

Bill turned and saw
a woman who was obviously a prostitute approaching him. She was well along in
years, and her garishly heavy makeup didn’t make her look any younger. Her hair
was an impossible shade of red, and her physique was sagging.

She leaned against
the car right next to Bill.

“Hope you don’t mind
if I smoke,” she said. “I know, it’s a nasty habit. I’ve got a lot of those.”

She took out a
cigarette, lit it, and took a long puff.

“I’m Opal, by the
way.”

“I’m Jerry,” Bill
said.

The woman let out a
sandpapery little laugh.

OK, she doesn’t
believe that.
Bill
thought. He realized that a lot of people might use fake names in a place like
this, but he suddenly felt nervous and unsure what to do next. He hadn’t done
any serious undercover work for years, and he’d never tried posing as a john
before.

“I was wondering if
we could maybe just talk,” Bill said.

She laughed again. “You’re
new around here, aren’t you?”

“You could say that,”
Bill said.

She nudged him with
her elbow.

“Well, if you’re
looking for a good time, you picked an odd spot,” she said.

“Really? I hear this
is where the girls are.”

She laughed again. “If
you’re a trucker, sure. But you’re no trucker. You’re not even pretending to be
a trucker. As a general rule, the girls here don’t go with nobody who doesn’t
roll into here in a big rig. It’s a safety thing.”

She snuggled up
against him seductively.

“Me, I’m different,”
she said. “I don’t get to be that picky. I’m what you might call a casualty of
the law of supply and demand. My ‘supply’ has got kind of stale over the years,
so I can’t be too particular about ‘demand.’”

Then, whispering in
his ear, she added, “Besides, I’ve got nothing against cops.”

Bill felt a jolt of
surprise. He was sure that she could feel it too.

Opal said, “Nope, I’ve
got no problem with cops at all. I’ve been in jail too many times for it to
bother me. I can even do business there when I need to.”

Bill was
embarrassed, but he saw no point in trying to lie.

He took out his
badge.

“Actually, I’m FBI.”

Opal purred with
amusement. “
Are
you now? Well, you should’ve gotten in touch with
Truckers Against Trafficking. They might of put you on a rig and got you in
here looking like a real trucker.”

“I’ve heard of them,”
Bill said. “Good guys. But I’m really just here to back up my partner. And we’re
not out to bust hookers.”

“Well fine, we can
still do business. I can talk just as good as I can do the other stuff.”

She held out her
hand. It was obvious what she wanted. Bill reached for his wallet and handed
her a hundred-dollar bill.

“My, my,” Opal said
appreciatively, depositing the bill in her cleavage. “This will get you a lot
of talking! Well, I don’t like to do
anything
professional out in the
open. Let’s get in your car, shall we? Make ourselves comfy.”

Feeling thoroughly
ill at ease, Bill walked around to the passenger door and let the woman in.
Then he got in on the driver’s side. Opal continued to puff away at her
cigarette.

Bill said, “I hear
that a girl disappeared here recently.”

“You’ll have to get
more specific,” Opal said. “Girls disappearing ’round here is kind of a regular
thing.”

“She called herself
Clover.”

Opal sighed sadly.

“Oh, yeah. Clover.
She got all freaked on account of this guy who calls himself T.R. He offered
her some kind of jewelry last week—diamond earrings, I think it was. Now,
regular johns don’t give gifts like that, especially not to the likes of us ’round
the Desert King. She got scared, thought maybe he was gettin’ obsessed with
her, might do something awful to her.”

“Do you think he did
do anything to her?” Bill asked.

Opal shook her head.
“Oh, no, she didn’t give him a chance. She lit out of here—out of Phoenix,
probably out of the state. She told me she wanted to go where he’d never find
her. I told her she was overreacting, taking his attentions too personal, that
he probably pulled that gift number on lots of girls. But Clover wouldn’t
listen. I’ve got no idea where she’d be by now.”

Opal reached over
and stroked Bill’s thigh.

“By the way, your
options are open for more than talk. Just sayin’.”

Bill firmly moved
her hand away.

Just then Riley came
into view, walking toward the bar. She’d put on very snug short shorts and a
blouse that was unbuttoned lower than he’d ever seen her wear. She was
displaying a lot of curves and cleavage, and she’d done something different
with her hair. He had to admit she looked hot. Strolling along on extremely
high heels, she vanished into the bar without even a nod in his direction.

Now it was up to him
to keep watch. Meanwhile, maybe he could find out more from Opal. He started
thinking up questions to ask her.

*

The man was sitting
in his parked car when he saw the woman walk into the bar.

Good God,
he thought.
Does she really
think she’s going to pass for a whore?

He smirked at the
thought. She might as well have a sign that said LAW ENFORCEMENT hanging around
her neck. He glanced around, but didn’t see any obvious backup.

Still, he was
intrigued. She was out looking for him, no doubt about it. But what had made
her come here? How could she have gotten this lead? Was the law trying to cover
all the hooker hangouts now? If they were, it would just mean they had no idea
where to look.

Or was she here
because that skittish little hooker had complained about him?

He decided that it
didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to let the woman’s presence ruin his evening. As
far as he was concerned, she was just making things more interesting.

So far, he’d never
picked up a victim in this place, and he was always a bit surprised by his
occasional urge to come here. If hanging around streetwalkers meant slumming,
prowling among lot lizards meant something even lower. It also meant taking
certain precautions—for example, renting a cheap used car. His own expensive
vehicle would draw the wrong kind of attention. A visit here wasn’t exactly
convenient.

But his other
regular haunts were problematic at the moment. News of his murders had made
even the streetwalkers skittish. And Jaybird’s gym had just gotten raided and
shut down. And he was through trusting the escort service. That bitch Ishtar
Haynes had no respect for confidentiality.

Besides, he was
oddly fascinated by the whores who haunted the Desert King. They were more
desperate than the streetwalkers, less feisty and exuberant. And they were
strangely elusive. For some reason, they seldom approached him. And since he
made a point of never approaching a whore himself, that meant that he didn’t
make much direct contact with them.

Clover had been an
exception, though. She’d been friendly at first, but he’d gotten careless and
scared her off. He reminded himself never to offer jewelry to whores until they
were fully under his control. That’s what seemed to have driven Clover away—his
extravagant generosity.

He remembered what
she’d said as she ran away …

“I’m getting away
from here for good. Don’t try to find me. You won’t be able to.”

He laughed a little
at the memory. As if Clover was even worth the trouble!

But the woman who’d
just walked into the bar—might she present a unique challenge? He’d never tried
his luck with a decoy. It had never occurred to him. At the very least, he was
sure that she would get into his car.

And after that?

The sheer brazenness
of the challenge was tantalizing. He wasn’t going to rush right into it,
though. He’d bide his time for a little while.

As Riley made her
way through the bar, she felt horribly exposed.

I might as well
be naked,
she
thought.

On her way here, she
had bought uncomfortably tight shorts, cheap shoes, and some makeup. She’d
stopped at a gas station and changed in its restroom. She’d known better than
to try to look like a youngster. She knew from her visit to Hank’s Derby that
lot lizards ran the gamut of age, weight, and looks.

Of course, the
shorts revealed her muscular legs. She wondered whether hookers ever went to
the gym—a real one, not like Jaybird’s outfit.

Probably not,
she guessed.

Tottering along on
spike heels that severely restricted her movements made her feel especially
vulnerable. If she had to run or fight, it would have to be barefooted. And to
make matters worse, there was nowhere to carry her gun. She’d had to leave it
in the car.

But then, looking
vulnerable and available was exactly the idea. She reminded herself that
hookers were always this defenseless. It deepened her sympathy for them. How
vulnerable and defenseless they must feel.

She only hoped that
her outfit was passable. She’d put it together in a great rush, and she had her
doubts about it. She was worried that maybe she couldn’t look sufficiently at
home in her scant wardrobe. The lot lizards she’d observed had seemed
completely comfortable showing off all their assets.

An obese woman with
a goiter on her neck was working at the bar. Riley felt pretty sure she was
Ruthie Lapham, the bar’s owner. Before coming here, she’d called Ruthie to tell
her she was on her way, and that she’d be calling herself Tina.

Riley headed
straight to the bar. But before she could introduce herself as Tina, Ruthie
looked at her dismay.

“Oh Good Lord,” she
said.

She called out to a
brawny fellow who was sitting at a table reading a newspaper.

“Burt, take over for
a few minutes, OK?”

Burt ambled over to
behind the bar. Ruthie came around in front of the bar and took Riley gently by
the arm.

“Come with me, girl,”
she said.

She led Riley to a
dark empty booth, where they both sat down.

Ruthie said. “I
thought you said you were going to be undercover.”

Feeling deflated,
Riley said, “I am.”

“What did you do, go
out just now and buy those duds in some big-box store?”

Ruthie sounded as if
she was just making a snide joke. The truth was, Riley had done just that.

“I was in a hurry,”
she said.

“Oh Good Lord,”
Ruthie repeated. “You did everything short of leaving the tags on. These girls
never buy anything new. It’s always thrift shops and rummage sales, that kind
of thing, cheap and used and tatty. You’ll never pass for a working girl
looking like that. Did any of the girls see you on your way in?”

Riley remembered
getting looks from some women as she’d walked through the parking lot. She
nodded.

“Well, you can be
sure they’re not happy to see you,” Ruthie said. “They’ve probably put the word
out that a sting is on.”

“That’s not why we’re
here,” she said.

Ruthie shook her
head in resignation. “But never mind, we’ll make do somehow. Like I said over
the phone, some of the girls told me they spotted that man again—T.R., he calls
himself. He hasn’t come in here yet, but he will before he goes home, he always
does. Don’t worry, I can see good enough from here—both the front door and the
hall that goes into the store yonder. I won’t miss him.”

“Now what can you
tell me about this guy you reported?” Riley asked.

“Well, he’s not a
trucker, that’s for sure. He tries to pass himself off as one, goes around in a
T-shirt and jeans, but nobody’s ever seen his rig. And he hasn’t got a trucker’s
build or look, or the right kind of talk neither. He comes around here time to
time, talking up girls, but he never seems to score, or even try to real hard.
It’s like he’s got something else in mind. And from what I’ve seen on the news
lately, it could be something real bad. That’s why I called.”

“What does he look
like?” Riley asked.

“Well, he’s sort of
medium size. He has a lot of blond hair and always wears a cap. Big glasses.
Expensive-looking clothes.”

Ruthie glanced
across the room.

“There he is now,”
she said. “Right over there. Lurking in the hallway.”

Riley knew better
than to move too quickly. Besides, she had to alert Bill that she was about to
make her move. She got out her cell phone and sent him a text.

Suspect in view.
I’m going after him. Meet us outside the bar.

Her plan was simple.
She’d proposition the man, then escort him out of the bar to where Bill would
be waiting and ready. Together she and Bill would nail him for simple
solicitation. With luck he’d give himself away while they had him in custody.

To her own shock and
surprise, Riley suddenly felt deeply afraid. An image of darkness and fire
flashed in the back of her mind. She’d been held and tormented by one monster,
and now here she was, offering herself up to another one.

But she wasn’t going
to let that residual trauma get the best of her. Besides, this time she had
backup. Her partner was right outside.

She got up and
stepped out of the booth. She could see the man standing in the hallway but he
was keeping his face in shadow. As she looked toward him, he actually turned
away.

Riley headed across
the room, determined to walk up to the man and make her best try at a come-on.
She wanted to at least get a look at his face. She wanted a chance to evaluate
him as a potential killer.

But she had only
gone a few steps when a woman stepped directly in her path. In a blink of an
eye, the woman was flanked on both sides by two more. They were clearly
prostitutes, and they all looked as mad as hell.

“Well, ladies, looks
like we’ve got a new girl,” the woman in front said, a note of threat in her
voice. “My name’s Jewel, what’s yours?”

“Tina,” Riley said,
trying to push past her.

The three women
clustered together to block Riley’s way forward. She started to cut around a
table and take another route, but the women moved to block that way too.

Riley was stumped.
She’d taken on lots of men in her time, many of them strong and tough. Under
normal circumstances, she wouldn’t find three men much of a threat. But women?
She didn’t want to beat these women up and couldn’t think what to do. Besides,
she was anxious not to blow her cover.

“Now don’t be rude,
girl,” Jewel said, her face uncomfortably close to Riley’s. “What’s the matter?
Is there something you’re not telling us?”

One of the other
women snapped, “Yeah, she doesn’t want to tell us she’s a cop.”

Riley heard a man’s
voice to her right.

“A cop? Hell, Dusty’s
no cop. Stop bothering her, Jewel. The rest of you too.”

Riley turned and saw
a familiar face walking toward her. It took her a moment to recognize Rex, the
trucker who’d helped her rescue Jilly back at Hank’s Derby. He must have just
come in, because she hadn’t seen him sitting in the bar earlier. He done some
fast thinking and made up a name to call her by.

The women gaped at
him with surprise, but they obviously knew him.

Rex offered Riley
his arm, and she took it.

“Where’ve you been,
Dusty?” he said, escorting her away from the angry hookers. “I thought you’d
never show up.”

“I got held up,”
Riley said. In a whisper she said, “I’m on a case. I’ve got to go.” She steered
him toward the hallway and then let go of his arm.

“After a bad guy,
huh?” Rex whispered back with a wink. “Go get ’im, girl.”

Riley darted away
from Rex and into the hall, but the man Ruthie had pointed out wasn’t there
now. She saw another door leading into the adjoining convenience store. He’d
obviously gone through there. If she could catch up with him, maybe there was
still a slim chance that she could proposition him.

But inside the
well-lighted store, she just saw a handful of men who were obviously real
truckers, not the one she was looking for. A couple of them ogled her with
interest and one even stepped toward her. But Riley didn’t have time for this.
She slid her FBI badge out of her handbag and flashed it at them. He stopped in
his tracks and the other one got very interested in the doughnuts on a nearby
rack.

She headed straight
to the front door and darted outside. Nobody was in sight, except for Bill, who
had gotten her message and was waiting outside the door to the bar.

*

On the opposite side
of the building, the man started up his rented hatchback. He berated himself
for his close call just now. The truth was, he didn’t know how he’d have
handled her if she’d approached him. And had she seen his face? He felt sure
that she hadn’t.

When she’d gotten up
from the booth, he’d hurried down the hallway into the convenience store and
joined several truckers who were just leaving. He’d seen the man standing
outside the bar—the woman’s partner, ready to back her up. He doubted that the
partner could have noticed him among the other truckers. Then he’d cut around
the front of the building to his car. He’d gotten away clean.

For a moment he felt
an urge to drive by and see if she would get in the car with him. But he knew
that she and her partner were both surely armed. It had already been a close
call for him.

Stupid,
he thought.
I was stupid.

What had he been
thinking? Since when had he gotten a thrill out of playing cat-and-mouse like
this? It just wasn’t his way.

No more cheap
thrills,
he
reminded himself.

From now on he would
stick to the part he really enjoyed—the shock, the gasping, the weakening
struggle, the silence at the end. And he promised himself to treat himself to
that pleasure again very soon.