Cuffed & Collared (22 page)

She forced herself to calm down. If Kyle was in trouble, she’d do him no good by letting her fear override her training. Satisfied that no sounds came from the back of the condo, she stepped carefully farther inside. Down the hall she crept, scanning, listening, and sniffing until she popped into the open bedroom. She knew a moment of relief when she didn’t find Kyle sprawled dead on his bed. A quick check of the bathroom and the second bedroom confirmed he wasn’t home. She holstered her gun and considered her next step.

Where the hell was he? When he talked about his girls, his love and devotion for them was obvious. He wouldn’t blow them off. Not even his ex-wife thought that, and exes tended to be critical of one another. Something was wrong, very wrong. And there was only one very wrong thing she could think of at the moment.

Given what that was, she started hoping Kyle had been in some kind of accident. The alternative didn’t bear imaging, although the killer’s M.O. was to do her dirty work at her victim’s home. Because Kyle wasn’t here, it made more sense that it was something more mundane, like an accident or work.

Just as she’d managed to talk herself out of the worst case scenario, her phone rang. “What’s up, JoJo?”

“I just got off the phone with the head nurse at the facility where Mindy’s aunt resides. Mindy’s parents died in a crash when she was eleven, and this aunt raised her after that. According to the nurse, the aunt encouraged Mindy to follow her dream of doing global aid work by joining the Peace Corps instead of hanging around Oregon while her aunt slowly and literally lost her mind.”

“And?” Regan left Kyle’s condo to let his ex know he wasn’t there.

“And Mindy was good about checking in via email and phone calls for her entire stint in the Corp until the last few weeks. Then she sent one last message that said she’d met a guy and was staying in Africa and wouldn’t be in touch anymore. Said the aunt was too far gone anyway to know if Mindy was there or not, which was mostly true. Still, the nurse was surprised. Mindy had always struck her as a devoted niece, the kind that would at least want updates on her aunt until the end.”

“Instead, she what, runs off with the Johnstone kid?” Regan trotted down the stoop and over to the Mercedes.

“The nurse didn’t know who Mindy had met, but the timing fits. Of course, now she’s here, so obviously she didn’t stay in Africa.”

Regan held her phone in a death grip. The fear she’d experienced when she first entered the condo was back tenfold. “JoJo, Kyle Ramsey is missing. It may be nothing, but I want you to get hold of Fuller and have him secure a warrant for searching Mindy’s place. Then text me her address and meet me over there ASAP.”

“Will do, although I don’t know if we have enough to get a warrant.”

“Fuck that. Everyone wants the killer found, so someone better make sure we get permission to search a suspect’s place.”

“And if we don’t?”

“We go in anyway. There has to be some connection here with our killer. The whole story about Mindy and Johnstone Jr. is too off for it not to be, and if Kyle is in danger, I’m not taking any more chances.”

“Roger that.” JoJo hung up.

Regan went around to the driver’s side to speak to Kyle’s ex-wife through the open window. She managed to shoot a reassuring smile to the tween girl in the passenger’s seat. “Here’s your key. He’s not in there. I suggest you head over to your event. I’ll track Mr. Ramsey down for you and have him give you a call.”

“All right, if you don’t mind,” the woman said with a forced smile. Obviously the woman was worried, too, and didn’t want to upset her daughter.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Regan said stepping back. “You have a nice night.”

She waited until the car pulled out into the traffic before sprinting back to her own. She wanted to believe in the reassurance she’d given, that Kyle was okay. Deep in her gut, she knew she would be lying to herself. Kyle was in trouble, and if she didn’t figure out where he was quickly enough, he was going to be the fourth victim.

JoJo’s text with Mindy’s address came in, and Regan hit her siren to clear a path. The secretary lived in Brighton, not too far from where Ronan used to rent. It didn’t take long to arrive, and Regan killed her siren before she reached the last block. If Mindy had Kyle at her place, Regan didn’t want to announce her arrival. She pulled up to the building, double-parking once more, and got out. JoJo arrived by the time Regan had reached the front steps.

“Tell me the warrant came through?”

Her partner shook her head. “Fuller’s on board with trying, but so far no luck. It’s a stretch to say Mindy is our prime suspect.”

“And yet she damn well is.” With a grimace, Regan backed up a bit and looked at the building’s façade. “What number is she?”

“2A.”

“I’m going to assume that means it’s a front apartment on the second floor. I don’t see any lights on.”

“She could be in a back room,” JoJo replied as they jogged up the steps.

Torturing Kyle to death.
Regan had to keep it together. The front door had a security lock that someone had jammed open, so they got inside without any trouble and trotted up quietly to the second floor. They stood silently in front of Mindy’s door for a few seconds, listening for anything that might indicate if anyone was inside. JoJo’s phone pinged, and Regan watched expectantly as her partner checked the message.

JoJo frowned. “Still no warrant.”

“Fuck it.” Regan ran to her car and pulled out her handy dandy and illegal lock picking kit from the glove compartment. It had been a gift from her father, and she always carried it with her, even though she’d never had occasion to use it. It took little effort to open the old door. Sliding the kit in her back pocket, she pulled out her gun and gestured to her partner to go in low.

Regan pushed the door open as quietly as she could and immediately scanned the room as she entered. It was dark and as small as the apartment was, she could clearly see that no other lights were on in the efficiency kitchen at the far end or in the room to the left that she assumed was the bedroom. Still, she took no chances as she quickly crossed through to the back of the apartment. There was no sound in the place other than the relatively harsh breathing of her and her partner. Nothing smelled off, either, so by the time they entered the bedroom, she was sure Mindy wasn’t home.

Holstering her gun, Regan switched on the bedroom light and stared at the frilliest girls room she’d ever scene. That which wasn’t pink, was purple, and everything looked to be made from either satin or silk. Fluffy pillows and cutesy stuffed animals adorned the white four-poster bed. It was like a ten year-old’s bedroom. The only thing missing was posters of pop stars and actors. JoJo whistled.

Regan glanced her way. “Yeah, I know. Weird. Check the bathroom, will you?”

Regan tackled the bedroom, not sure of what she was looking for. Something, please God, needed to give her a clue. She opened the closet and found a hefty amount of clothing, most of which was like the dress she’d seen the admin wear at Molvado’s office. She searched through to see if any of it was more in the Domme theme, but nothing was. Next, she opened the dresser drawers and stared at the predictable amounts of underwear, bras, panties, except…

Pulling out a bra, she held it up and studied it. It was padded, completely, creating breasts in the cups. A quick look confirmed that all of the bras were the same. She tossed the one in her hand down and yanked open the next drawer. It contained a bunch of Spanx, except, no. These were underwear with padded bottoms, creating feminine curves. With dawning fury, Regan realized the import of the clothing.

“Jesus,” JoJo exclaimed from the bathroom. “For someone who looked washed out, this girl has a lot of make-up.”

Regan rushed into the tiny room and stared at the broad array of tubes and bottles and brushes crammed onto a small wicker table. Everything clicked into place. “I’m a fucking moron!” she spat out. “They were right, the FBI profiler, my father, even Kyle, every fucking person was right all along, and I was so sure I was right, I didn’t even consider it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Shoving the underpants she was still holding at her partner, she pulled out her phone. “What was Molvado’s office number?” she mumbled as she did an internet search.

JoJo held up the underwear. “So, she padded her booty? What am I missing?”

“Mindy’s not here,” Regan explained without looking up from her phone.

“I can see that.”

“She was never here.” She shook her head. Finding the number, she dialed it. “I’m going to see if Molvado is still at her office. See if you can find a home number for her.”

“Okay, but I still don’t get what you’re talking about here.”

“Mindy’s dead. What’s left of her is probably moldering somewhere in Africa. She was likely dead when she sent that email to the aunt’s nursing home.” The phone rang and rang.
Pick up!
When no one did, she reluctantly ended the call. She looked at JoJo expectantly.

“I’ve got a home number. You want me to call it?”

“Yes. No. I’m going to go to Molvado’s office first and see if Mindy left anything there that will tell me where he’d take another victim. You stay here and keep searching.”

“He?”

On her way out of the room, Regan stopped and took the seconds needed to bring her partner up to speed. “The person we know as Mindy isn’t a woman. The padded bras and underwear, and the heavy foundation and other make-up that looks like stuff you’d see on RuPaul’s Drag Race tell me it’s a man dressed as a woman.”

“Mindy’s transgender?”

“No, not the real Mindy. Like I said, she’s probably dead. The guy pretending to be her stole her identity after he killed her, I bet. Then he sent the email to the nursing home to keep anyone from wondering what happened to her. The killer has been a man all along, but has a female identity.”

“The Johnstone kid.” JoJo finally got it.

“Again, that would be my guess. He killed his father, not some woman scorned, and I wonder if the old man had it coming, too. I’m no profiler, but the brutality of it and the sexual component spells abuse to me. Maybe the boy was born transgender or maybe his father fucked with his head so much he took on a female identity. Who the hell knows, but once apparently wasn’t enough. He developed a taste for killing and heads for the Peace Corps maybe looking for easier targets or just wants to lose his old self. Then he meets Mindy, an orphan for all intents and purposes, drops off the planet as himself, follows her to Africa, and well…” Regan made a gesture toward the room. “I’ve got to go.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“I hope to God one of us does,” she called out as she ran through the living room. She was still putting the pieces to the whole thing together, but she was sure of one thing now.

Kyle was in the hands of a serial killer.

Chapter Twelve

Kyle didn’t want to open his eyes. The pounding in his head was enough to make him want to sink back into oblivion. It wasn’t the only thing hurting, either. His arms and legs ached, as did his back. He felt stiff all over but couldn’t quite remember why. A sharp, acrid smell hit his nostrils, making his eyes pop open.

“Wakey, wakey, little boy. It’s time to play.”

The cloying sweetness of the voice made him shudder, and as his vision cleared, the woman’s face came into focus.”

His memory returned with a jolt, making him recoil, except there was nowhere for him to go. He was trussed up on some kind of wooden frame, arms and legs pulled tight with his front and back fully exposed. And he was naked. That was the least of his concerns, although the lascivious look on the woman’s face as she gazed at him made his skin crawl.

Mindy, that was her name. Dr. Molvado’s mousy assistant. What was he doing with her? Oh, yeah, he’d been leaving his condo when she’d rushed up to him, speaking almost incoherently about how the doctor was crazy. Molvado was the serial killer and Mindy was scared to death, didn’t know what to do, begging for help.

What an idiot he’d been, not even stopping to consider that it made no sense for Mindy to come to him for help. And when the woman had mentioned Regan was in danger, well that had killed all of his remaining brain cells. He’d simply reacted, shoving Mindy into his car in order to ride to Regan’s rescue.

Then, nothing. His mind was a blank. Obviously, Mindy had done something to incapacitate him, drugs maybe. It would explain his aching head and dry mouth. But how had this wispy woman managed to get him trussed up as he was?

As he pondered that question, he took stock of his surroundings. It was a nicely appointed dungeon, not unlike the room at Nemesis. Mindy stood with a sick smile on her face, dressed to the nines in Domme-wear. From the spider-web silver choker to the black bustier to the thigh-high boots, she looked much like the women at the club, although she lacked a certain something. He stared hard, trying to clear his head and his vision more, until he finally realized what was off about the woman.

“You’re not a woman at all,” he croaked out.

The open-palm slap made his head spin again. “Shut up! I didn’t give you permission to speak.” With a toss of her head, Mindy added, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m the realist woman you’ll ever meet and the last real woman you’ll ever know.” She said the last bit with a twisted smile.

Kyle fought to get himself under control, fear threatening to cloud his judgment. This was the person who’d killed at least three men, including Jazz. He was next unless he held on long enough for Regan to find him. She would, too, he had every faith in her. He swallowed down the lump forming in his throat and steadied his breathing.

“My apologies, Mistress.” He dropped his gaze in the most submissive way he knew how. Fingers brushed along his jaw, and he fought the shiver running through him. Up close, he could see those hands clearly and realized they were the give-away if anyone cared to look closely. They were too big for a woman.

“Very prettily said,” Mindy cooed. “I could almost believe you mean it.” She strutted away. “Of course, by the time I’m done disciplining you, you will mean it. And you’ll see what other men have, that I am a woman, and I am in control.”