Captured Innocence (CSA Case Files) (2 page)

“Where is their residence?” Connor asked.  “What suburb?”

“Maplewood.”

“So that would p
ut Terry roughly at his house between eleven-thirty and midnight.”

“
Yes.  He placed the 911 call at twelve-eleven precisely.  The police responded immediately and arrived at twelve twenty-six.  Each of you will be given a copy of the report once it’s in my hands.”  Crest pushed back his chair, stood, and walked to the back of the room.  He poured himself a cup of coffee, taking it black like the rest of them.  “After hearing where Terry had been that evening and that Marilyn frequented the clubs by herself, they immediately assumed that Terry killed her in a jealous rage.  The more he opened up about the clubs gave Detective Morrison more ammunition to build a case.  It didn’t help that his fingerprints were all over the weapon or the fact that he was covered in her blood.”

“It’s hard to explain the l
ifestyle to a person who hasn’t been exposed to it,” Jax responded, squeezing the yellow ball in his fist.  “Do you know the arresting officer?  I’ve seen him on television during interviews.”

“
I know
of
Detective Morrison,” Crest replied, returning to his seat.  “If I knew him personally, I guarantee he wouldn’t have arrested Terry on such an asinine assumption, which is why I have an appointment with the Lieutenant.”

“It’s too late, though,” Connor said, placing his coffee on the table.  He pushed the one photo away and picked up another.
  The quality of the ropes was good.  The knots and weave had the markings of a Dominant who knew what he was doing.  “The damage is done.  They just wasted over eight hours on an assumption.  We all know that the first twenty-four hours are critical.”

“You’re right,
Ortega.  Which is why Terry has hired us.”

They all just stared at Crest with blank faces.  He shrugged.  They all knew that he wouldn’t take money from his best friend.  Hell, half of
their cases were pro-bono.  The agency made their bread and butter through government contracts.  Kevin had just come back from some godforsaken place to bring back a known terrorist who was trying to seek asylum with a non-extradition country.  Technically, Connor was up next in rotation for an overseas assignment, but he had a feeling he would be staying in the States.

“
Crest, I know you’re aware that Jax and I frequent those clubs.”  Connor shared another knowing look with Jax.  If Crest wanted this as a team effort, there was no reason to keep information under wraps.  “Marilyn wasn’t just enamored with the club scene.  She was also a masochist and word had it that Terry wasn’t giving her what she needed.  She had sought out some other Dominants.”

“I know.”  Crest placed his cup on the table.  His green eyes met
each of theirs one by one.  “This is personal.  There will be no judgment on how they lived their lives or how we live ours.  Terry is a good man and Marilyn was blameless.  She didn’t deserve to be carved up like a Sunday roast.  I want this bastard caught and strung up by his balls.  We’re going to be the ones to deliver this cocksucker to the hardcore bangers in the state pen.”

Connor could see the angst in Crest’s eyes.  His friend was in trouble and this was the only way he could help. 
Connor took one last look at the picture, knowing that every team member would have copies within the hour, and then slid it back into the middle of the table.

“This is how it’s going to go down. 
Kevin, I want you to scour the streets.  I want every informant you know questioned.  If someone is bragging out there about killing the wife of a surgeon, we want to know who is saying what to whom.  Taryn, you’ll do your computer thing and bring me whatever you can find on similar attacks anywhere in the US in the past ten years.  Put together a profile to screen your results on the search.  Also, I want you to get with our friend in the evidence locker at the department and ghost the hard drive in her laptop.  If Marilyn met this scumbag online, I want the transcript — first to last of every contact.  Connor and Jax, I want you to hit the clubs.  They know you…personally.  The members will be more willing to speak with you than anyone else in this room, but I want it done discreetly.  No one is to know that we’re looking for tracks.  Work it from an undercover angle.  Obviously, the person we’re looking for is well versed in shibari.  For those of you who don’t know much about the lifestyle, I suggest you research it thoroughly.  There’s always a chance I might send one or all of you in covertly.”

Connor and Jax remained silent.  So much for
their sexual preferences staying under the radar.  It wasn’t like they hid it, but it certainly wasn’t office chatter the next morning.  He and Jax had figured Crest was into the lifestyle as well, but they had yet to cross swords, so to speak.  He was a private man, more so than most.  Connor shifted uncomfortably as Taryn continued to stare at them with a cagey smile.  What the hell was her deal?

“Connor and Jax,” Crest said, garnering their attention.
  “In my office.”

Well, that’s one way t
o end a meeting. 
Fucking great
.  He wasn’t in the mood to hear what Crest had to say.  While he gathered the photos, Connor grabbed his cup and drained the contents.  He swiped up his glasses and fought the urge to slip them back on.  Instead, he hung them on the V-neck of his shirt.

Both men followed Crest out of the conference room and straight across the hallway to his office. 
He signaled for them to close the door, which Jax did before joining Connor in the two chairs situated in front of their boss’s desk.  The office was bare, basically looking like no one worked there.  Crest wasn’t a materialistic man by any means. 

“I’ll cut to the chase.”  Crest threw th
e folder on the desk.  “I don’t want the clubs thinking you two are there on official business.  I want you to go and insinuate yourself within the community.  Find out what you can.  It shouldn’t be too hard, considering you’re there every weekend anyway.  I’ll amend that statement – since Jax is there every weekend.  Connor, are you going to have a problem with this?”

“No,” Connor said, ignoring the fact that Jax nudged his foot.  “No problem at all. 
From my understanding, Ashley’s left town.  I just needed a break.  Obviously, break’s over.”

“Jax, is this true?”  Crest ran his fingers and thumb down
his face.  “I need the both of you to be on your A game.  This case is too important to me for your personal issues to get in the way.”

“Ashley left town over a month ago,” Jax said, confirming what Connor already knew.  “Connor will have no issue
s, from her at least.  Some of the submissives have been asking about him anyway.  It should be a smooth transition.”

“Good.  Start tonight.”
Crest reached for his phone.  Connor and Jax stood and started to walk towards the door.  “Keep me apprised every twenty-four hours.  More often, should anything arise.”

Jax opened the door and walked out first.  Connor
stopped, holding the door in his hand.  He turned to see Gavin look up at him, the phone against his ear.  The underlying grief in his eyes was evident.  His eyebrow rose in question. 

“I
’m sorry about Marilyn, Top,” Connor said, referring to Crest with the nickname associated with his retired rank.  He received a nod of acknowledgement.  “We’ll get the guy who did this.”

Connor shut the door behind him.  He should have known that Jax would be waiting for him.  He looked over
at his best friend and really took in his appearance of jeans, a Nike sweatshirt, and black tennis shoes.  Jax was wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday.

“You have room to talk
, shit heel,” Connor said, shaking his head.  “At least I had the decency to change clothes.”

“
I wouldn’t call those decent,” Jax said, his usual gaff of laughter following.  They made it to the large space off of the main reception area where Taryn and Kevin were debriefing with Ethan.  The room was divided into cubicles, but they were sitting at the table which dominated the common area, adjoining the individual office spaces.  Connor wouldn’t have to stay for this part since his case had wrapped up.  He turned to Jax, thinking of telling him that they could meet up for a bite to eat before heading to Masters tonight when Jax brought up Ashley.  He’d been so close to getting out of here, too.  “Seriously, are you going to have an issue tonight?  They all know that Ashley left town to get married.”

“
I don’t care what they know,” Connor answered, his headache coming back in full force.  He pulled his sunglasses off of his shirt.  He slipped them on, instantly dimming the lights that were instigating the throbbing inside of his head.  “Ashley liked the
idea
of the lifestyle, as well as the men who frequented the clubs.  She wanted a wealthy prick to set her up in style, and she cashed up for a better standard of living.  I should have known better.  Thank God I found out who she was before I became the mark.  I’ll be fine tonight.  It’s no big deal.  Meet me at the Uptown Diner at seven tonight.”

“
Deal.  Now get some sleep, jackass.”  Jax flashed his Val Kilmer smile.  The one the actor was known for when he’d been younger.  “We’ve got a killer to catch.”

Chapter Two

Connor and Jax walked into Masters.  The familiar sound of Ravel’s “Bolero” drifted from the speakers concealed above.  Connor knew the Latin music was a staple for many clubs.  However, this particular rendition just happened to be one of his favorites.  It favored the Cuban dance so recognizable from his youth — his father’s influence on his coming of age. 

The entry hall was the picture of understated excellence.
It was lit well enough to see the hostess and her obligatory security escort.  The blonde flushed with recognition of Connor and Jax.  He smirked, knowing she had fond memories of past fun and games with both of them.  Jenny smiled her reception and nodded to the attendant, who buzzed them through into the club. 

Dark E
nglish walnut adorned the walls.  They were polished with orange-scented wood soap, practical in its ability to eliminate the brazen smell of sex and sweat. The sounds and scents of the club surrounded him with the warmth of an old friend welcoming him after a long absence, thus easing his way back into old well-worn habits.  It was about damn time. 

Connor
took a moment to survey the room.  The bar was lined up against the left wall, which was mirrored and backlit.  The lighting was only slightly brighter in that area, giving the entire space a nightclub appearance.  Sweeping away from the bar were sitting quarters consisting of booths and couches, screened with palms and ferns.  This effect gave the illusion of secluded grottos all through the middle of the room. 

On the right side, several play areas were partitioned off with black velvet rope
slung between brass, antiquated poles.  Interestingly, all of the public stations were in use at this early juncture in the evening.  Everything seemed the same, although the crowd appeared a little heavier than he was used to.  It should be a good evening to gain insight on Terry’s visit here last night.

“
Ortega.”

Connor
nodded his acknowledgement when a member walked by.  He rolled his left shoulder, easing the tension out of the old injury.  He felt slightly better after his previous night of binge drinking.  Sleeping the majority of the day and a long, hot shower had done wonders for his physical wellbeing.  A phone call checking on his father and shooting the shit had fixed his mental health.  He was back on his game.

“I’ll be at the bar,” Connor said, feeling uneasy without his bag.
  He half wondered if they still kept it behind the bar in an alcove designed for just that purpose, or if it had been moved to another more permanent storage space.  For a small fee, the club maintained his equipment and made sure it was clean and ready for use.  He’d gotten into the habit of carrying his own implements years ago.  Most of the regulars did.  There was no sense in buying the club’s provided fare every time you had a scene.  Tonight wasn’t about play, though.  He and Jax had discussed the best tactics for gathering information.  Jax would hit up the subs while he sat at the bar and reconnected with old acquaintances.  “If I don’t get anywhere, I’ll head on over to Whip and meet up with you later to write up our SITREP.”

The acronym from their past reminded them both why they were here.  A common form of reconnaissance report was a SITREP, or situation report.  With any luck, they could turn this place over
and find the information they were looking for.

Jax nodded and hoisted his bag over his shoulder. 
He had issues leaving his implements behind for others to take care of and refused to let others touch his stuff.  His blonde hair was disheveled as usual, but the women loved it.  Already, two subs were heading his way.  He bit down on his chewing gum with a
smack
and gave a farewell smile. 

Connor shook his head and sauntered over to the bar.  Instead of wearing his usual leathers this evening, he chose black jeans and a matching V-neck, long-sleeved shirt.
  He’d left his jacket in the Jeep, as he’d parked in the underground garage next door. Knowing he wasn’t going to play, he’d worn his black boots in order to conceal carry.  It wasn’t his usual piece, but the P259 model Sig was much easier to obscure than his normal full frame P220.  Both were chambered .45ACP loads.  It would get the job done if needed.  He always carried on assignment. 

Taking
quick note of the small crowd at the bar, he figured maybe three out of the seven would be of any help.  These people only had a vague conception of what transpired between him and Ashley.  It would be easy for him to convince them that he wasn’t ready to top a sub just yet.  He’d use the time wisely.

“
Ortega, it’s been a while,” Russell said, polishing a tumbler with a bar towel.  The bartender was young, probably in his mid-twenties. Connor knew that once he got the conversation rolling, there wasn’t anything that would shut the kid up.  “What can I get you?”

“Whatever’s on tap tonight,” Connor answered.  He took a seat at the end of the bar where he could watch who came and went through the entrance.  The mirror behind the bartender allowed him to
discreetly observe the room.  Jax was already sitting in an overstuffed leather chair with three submissives at his feet.  “How’ve you been?”

“Good.  The club’s been busy
, so Joel’s happy.” 

“I bet he is,” Connor answered, bringing his attention back to the bar.

Russell placed the tumbler with some others located behind him and then tossed the towel over his shoulder.  Grabbing a fresh chilled beer glass from the cooler, he put it at an angle under the spigot and pulled the long ivory handle.  Connor knew the two-drink limit was for those who intended to play — that included Tops as well as bottoms.  Since he wasn’t playing, he didn’t have to worry about it. 

“
I’m still considering entering the service, though,” Russell said.  “I’m just not sure I’d make it through boot camp with a bunch of assholes yelling in my ear.”

“Thanks,” Connor said, accepting the beer. 

Connor grabbed the handle of his mug and situated himself more comfortably on the stool.  Russell wasn’t cut out for the military, but he needed to figure that out on his own.  He didn’t have the heart for it.  A man had to want to be a Marine in order to make the full thirteen weeks of initial training.  Joel was always complaining that Russell was late and even after two years didn’t know how to stock the bar properly.

“
Military is the way to go, man,” Connor replied, saying what he always said to Russell.  “You can’t go wrong with say, something like the Air Force.”

“I hear Ashley left town,” Russell said, making no qualms about
meddling into things that were none of his business.  He leaned his arms against the counter.  “Someone mentioned she was getting married.”

Connor looked at the members
who were sitting at the bar, trying to ignore Russell’s inquiries.  He let his eyes travel over the mirror.  The majority of everyone had already claimed their seats in the middle area.  The Doms and Dommes that were at the bar were either getting something to drink for themselves because they were not playing or scoping the room much like himself.  It was the ones who weren’t playing he was most interested in. 

“That’s what I hear,” Connor replied, turning his attention back to the bartender.
One of the submissives cried out softly from the play area. “Speaking of gossip, I’ve been out of the scene for a while.  Anything new?  Any new subs?”

“Shit
, man,” Russell replied, standing up from the counter and using his hands to lean against the wood.  “Jax didn’t tell you about the murder last night?  It was all over the paper this morning.  Marilyn Sweeney.  You remember her, right; the redhead who was married to Terry?”

“I remember her.  She was murdered?”
 

“Yeah.  Terry
got popped for stabbing her to death or something.  Maybe he finally got tired of her playing around on him.  She shouldn’t have been messing around with other Dominants.”

“
Damn.  That’s rough.  I thought they had an agreement, though,” Connor said, leading Russell right down the intended road.  He wouldn’t mention that Marilyn was wrapped in silk rope.  If no one knew that yet, maybe the police hadn’t leaked it to the press.  He made a mental note to have Taryn scour the papers to see what evidence they had issued to the media.  He drank the foam off of the top of his beer.  “Didn’t she used to play with Greg?”

“Greg stopped
topping her a while ago.” 

Connor looked to his left.  Kyle
, who was one of the regulars, joined in on the conversation.  He was looking Connor’s way.  Things couldn’t get any better, Connor thought, letting them run the gossip mill. 

“
She was getting too close to the edge,” Kyle said, shrugging his shoulders. “Greg’s a sadist, but he stops before blood is drawn.  She’d started to play over at that new club, Whip.  I told that to the police earlier.  They sent two detectives to ask around about Terry and Marilyn.  They stopped in during newbie social hour and chased off this week’s looky loos.  Joel wasn’t too happy.”

Joel Summit was the owner of Masters.  Connor had no doubt the man wasn’t pleased that
the local LEOs, law enforcement officers, were running off potential customers.  Joel had the members’ confidentiality to protect.  Connor also knew police would have asked for a list of said members and had a warrant to back up their request.  The sad thing about this situation was that they were using what information they gathered against Terry.  Kyle’s diarrhea of the mouth while talking to the police, dropping that Marilyn played with Greg and disclosing her predilection for pain only strengthened their case.

“
I bet he wasn’t happy,” Connor said in agreement.  Movement in the mirror caught his eye.  He saw Beverly, one of the Dommes who frequented Masters, walk up behind him.  He knew she would have been here last night and decided he wanted her in on the conversation.  He kept talking, hoping she’d join in.  “I just didn’t figure Terry as the kind of guy who would have it in him to murder his wife.  You said she was stabbed?”

“
That’s what the paper said, although the police didn’t say much,” Russell said.  He gave Beverly a smile when she finally came to stand beside Connor.  His eyes lit up.  “What can I get you, Mistress?”

Connor picked up his
beer to hide his smile.  Apparently, Russell still hadn’t figured out a way to kneel and take Mistress Bev’s order at the same time.  He’d been sniffing around her for the last year, but Bev was having none of it.  Everyone here knew that he’d have to grovel first.  Beverly was a bigger woman with an even larger following.  All the male submissives wanted a chance to lick her thigh-high, shiny patent leather boots.

“Just a ginger ale,” Beverly said, dismissing him with her eyes.  She focused on Connor.
  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite Marine boy-toy.”

“How’re you doing, Bev?
  Not finding your platoon of submissives challenging enough for you?”

“Just peachy.
  For the record, I’d love to draw you over to the dark side.”  Beverly placed her forearms on the counter and leaned a little his way.  “Listen, I was real sorry to hear about Ashley.  You’re a good guy.  You didn’t deserve the crap she was shoveling.”

“Ancient history,” Connor said
, wishing like hell the topic was more or less buried.  He knew that he’d have to rehash this shit coming back here, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.  A quick glance in the mirror showed him the sub he’d heard earlier.  She was hitting subspace and knew that he was bound to lose the crowd to her scene.  “I was just asking Russell if any new subs joined the club when he told me about Marilyn Sweeny.”

“It’s a shame, isn’t it? 
For two reasons really,” Bev replied with a snarky smile.  “First, Russell needs to keep his nose out of everyone else’s business.  He needs to learn his place around here and I’m of half a mind to show him exactly where that should be.”

“And the second?” Connor asked, taking another long swallow of his beer.

“Because she was a very nice woman.  I was just arriving as the police were wrapping up their nice little interviews.  Joel told them he preferred that they wind things up by eight o’clock this evening to question people — before open play began.  They didn’t disclose much information, but I do know they also asked for a list of members and also the vendors that Joel uses.  He didn’t have a choice but to hand over the member list, but apparently the vendors weren’t registered in the warrant.  Joel told them to come back tomorrow with a new warrant if they wanted any more information.”

“Why would they want a list of
his vendors?” Kyle asked.

Connor wondered the same thing, until the unique rope from the pictures
clicked in his mind.  He knew it looked unusual.  He bet it was made of Japanese silk and since the police thought that Terry did it, they probably figured he’d purchased the rope from a supplier at the club or online.  Joel was known to have vendors come in at least once a week, not that Connor had ever attended.  Was there a BDSM vendor in town that he didn’t know about?  The police would have already had Terry and Marilyn’s home and business computers confiscated.  Connor would have to remind Crest to have their contact ghost all of the seized hard drives, and not just Marilyn’s.  Detective Morrison already knew whether or not he’d bought the material online.  Since the police were still looking for the source, that must mean they didn’t find the transaction.