SEIZED Part 5: A Steamy New Adult Romantic Suspense Thriller (Seize Me Romance Fiction Series) (7 page)

Ryan

Blake is off the April Lee case. He’s suspended. Now he’s making waves with Jessup Lee. And his new girlfriend is missing. This guy is my best friend. It goes without saying that I’m ready to do what I can here at the precinct to help him through this crazy time. I just wish Jacob had his back too. It would make my life so much simpler. It’s not, so I have to resign myself to work in secret and not get caught.

“Ryan,” Jacob calls my name as I walk past her office. Oh, here we go. She’s a smart one. I look over at her, hoping I don’t look guilty. I can’t let her get clued in on what I’m up to. “I just wanted to check in with you, how’s that wrist doing?”

I breathe a sigh of relief, safe for hopefully another day. “It’s a little tight, but feeling better, Lieutenant.”

“Does the physiotherapist have a new date on when you’ll be back on full duty?”

“Within a month to six weeks, boss.” I deliver the news with enthusiasm. “It’s getting better every day.” I hold out my wrist and twist it around a little to show off my new range of movement.

As I walk away, I have to admit I’m not a good actor. I was never a good liar, and working as a police department tech analyst hasn’t made me any better at it. A rock climbing accident left me with an injury not long ago. It has put a damper in my ability to do the work I enjoy, and has been the death of more than one planned weekend on the hills. The one good thing is it’s given me more time to spend perusing the April Lee case.

It’s not one of my assigned cases; the lab work was done weeks ago. Blake is my oldest friend. And when a buddy needs help, I want to have his back; especially Blake. He’s a good cop. It’s just that he sometimes gets too close to his cases. He’s made some stupid calls before too. This is why Jacob won’t give him any more leash to choke himself with. I’m certain Blake has had nothing to do the abductions, or with Neon. I would know if he was involved with Neon. I’ve never seen him happier since Carrie came into town, and into his life.

I pass the kitchen and nod to a couple of the other techs who are on break. I may not share outside interests with these guys, but we get along where it matters—in the lab, at the crime scenes, and at our local bar around the corner. A friendly working environment is important. Forensics is a challenging job. We often see the worst of the worst; I’m a member of the response team that is deployed to certain crime scenes, where technical or technological analysis may help the case. Collecting evidence is vital, and it’s not usually easy.

There are days I come back to the precinct all messed up. Crime scenes are usually not pretty or happy places. Sometimes, the things I see make me so angry. It’s the main reason I wear running shoes at work. I run to handle the stress. You can usually find me out training after a shift. Running clears my mind. I run so much in this job, eventually I became an amateur triathlete; I compete whenever my schedule allows it, and I love being outdoors. That’s the other thing Blake and I do together. We hit the outdoors whenever we can. That guy has saved my life before and I’ve saved his. We’re like brothers.

The FBI presence in the station is still pretty strong; they’re casting an air of general annoyance around the place. It’s because of the April Lee case. I’ve heard the talk and it’s not good. Resentment is building toward the team. What’s worse is internal affairs is also here. They’re investigating Blake. I haven’t been questioned yet, but several others have. It’s obvious by their questions that the FBI put them up to this. They’re occupying three interview rooms that are side by side, and every so often, they confer with each other in the middle room. It seems like they’re all gunning for Blake. From their perspective, he looks guilty. I just need to help Blake so he can prove them all wrong.

I’ve gathered a fair amount of evidence in the downtime I’ve had. Researching the out of state incidences of kidnapping was enlightening. It turns out Blake’s ex-girlfriend Erica may have a lot more to do with April’s abduction than we thought. Not only has she been operating a small prostitution ring here in New York and New Jersey, she has the same set-up in other nearby cities. In Philadelphia and Richmond, victims of kidnapping have shown up working in her territory more than once. The police made the connection, of course but, the assertions are circumstantial at best. There’s just not enough hard evidence. The girls themselves have always refused to testify, and her staff are also incredibly loyal. 

There’s an uneasiness that comes over me whenever I look over the April Lee file, and all the other missing persons files that seem to be related to Neon. It started when I reviewed the video analysis. The pattern is obvious. All the footage of their abductions or attacks has been deleted before we get to it. There has to be someone on the inside who’s tampering with such instrumental evidence. Whoever it is, they don’t have to be working in the police force. They could be from anywhere that has access to the city’s transportation cameras. Each cut of each video neatly covers up the crimes against these women.

My analytical mind takes over. I need answers to two key questions. First, what do these women being targeted have in common? And second, who has access to these cameras and are somehow connected to Jessup Lee or Neon?

I spend most of the morning looking at the profiles of everyone that’s been taken in a similar style. It doesn’t seem there are any, they don’t share common interests or family backgrounds. There are no common denominators to latch onto at all. It’s frustrating; normally a case opens wide for me when I apply this type of pressure.

I compile a list of everyone who has access to the CTV system. It’s a long list. There are hundreds of people who regularly use it. From the traffic fine coordinators to local government officials. Access is granted pretty much upon request to schools or companies with genuine need to see the footage for staffing or other reasons, but it takes a week or so to receive them, not to mention a load of paperwork to request access. I need to narrow the search to people who have instant access.

After a while, it hits me. This shouldn’t be a process of elimination from a long list; I just need to check the coding in the videos themselves. The system leaves a trail like any other. It should be simple. I copy all of the video files onto my desktop and open the access pages only to find that each has been corrupted. Unbelievable.

I get up and begin to pace. I do my best thinking here, and this case needs some extra finesse. I consider the next steps. With every difficult case, there’s a point like this—where real answers seem impossible to uncover. I need to start again. I’m left with a strange feeling. There’s more to this. Something I’m supposed to pay attention to. I go back to thinking about the case and realize only someone who knows the video surveillance system inside out would know there’s an almost invisible—and tamper-proof segment of time-stamped coding on each file. I can use this to track down the users who were logged in during the times the date files were damaged.

Tapping away furiously at my keyboard, I access the system logs and cross-reference them with the base codes of each video. Bam! There it is. I find the same code for every video. It means it’s just one person behind all this video tampering activity. And from the identification number, this person may actually be too close for comfort. It’s a code for this precinct.

I hurry to the IT section of the floor, which is usually occupied by the top geeks of the department. Today, no one is here. They’re all out to lunch. I know what I’m looking for. I try to be subtle as I search for it on the one of their computers. I open the file and scan down the list, searching for one particular combination of letters and numbers amongst all the departmental codes.

I find it and my mouth drops open. Unbelievable. The person who altered each of these videos is on shift today. I never would have thought someone this close to us could be a part of this. Shaking my head, I lean back in the swivel chair. I know corruption is part of the deal no matter where you go; I just didn’t expect it to be this close to home. It surprises the shit out of me. If only I had more evidence, I could come forward. This is exactly the type of thing that lands people like me in the harbor with bricks tied to their feet.

When they go down they need to go down fast and hard enough to make sure there’s no backlash against Blake or myself. Suddenly that crank call Blake received through the desk sergeant comes to mind. I think it’s noted in the files as unresolved because the caller never left a number. But I know Blake said he had a moment of full paranoia where he was sure the whole April case was an inside job. I thought it was crazy at the time, but maybe we were closer than we thought way back then?

My mind is faithfully following the trail of evidence, just as it’s been trained to do. It’s automatic these days. It ingrained in me to never make assumptions. Evidence is one thing; assumption is an entirely different beast. I begin to wonder who that caller was. Whoever it was, it demonstrated I’m not the only one who knows this is an inside job. The quickest way to get to the bottom of it is to find that snitch caller as fast as possible.

In the meantime, the best plan is not to say a word. I need to assemble the troops and take the perpetrator by surprise. That’s what it’s going to take—speed, an army of evidence and people who are willing to back me when Blake and I come forward. Caution is a must. I get the feeling I shouldn’t even tell Blake until I know more. With so much at risk, he could easily get hot-headed and come forward too soon. I would probably feel the same way if my career and the woman I was in love with were in danger.

He’s been my best friend for years. I owe him the time and effort to help solve this case and clear his name. In fact, I owe him more than he knows. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to glance briefly at the screen. It’s Brenda Anderson calling.

Carrie

The notebook is becoming my constant companion. I’ve read and re-read it so many times, there are paragraphs I know verbatim. I decide it’s time to leave my mark. I turn to the blank page after Sarah’s twelve-day account, and I begin to share. It takes three separate sittings to get it all down. There were a few times I couldn’t write because the drugs had too much of an effect. And then I hid it away twice under my mattress when I heard Neon’s men coming. Under no circumstances will I let this important symbol get in the wrong hands.

My name is Carrie James. I’ll start there because it seems important. I was only taken by Erica Morgan’s security detail just a few days ago but it already feels like a lifetime. I was taken and locked into a room. This is where I sit now, writing this journal that was left here for me by one of the last girls. The person who took me is Erica Morgan, also known as Neon Lips. She’s a pimp and criminal that one of my oldest friends knows.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. The days are mixing into one, and I think the drugs appear to make things move more slowly. I’m telling my story because it needs to be told. One day somebody has to know what happened to me.

It all started when I came to New York City with my friend April on a short holiday. We arrived here from Cedar Rapids, Iowa. We had planned a fun mini break because it had been a difficult year. April’s parents had been killed in a car crash and she was in deep grief. We were staying in a hotel room in Times Square, and up until we were taken, were having all the fun this big city offered.

We had appointments made for spa days and we were shopping like I’ve always wanted to! On one of our first nights in town, we went out to April’s uncle’s nightclub. His name is Jessup Lee. We both drank too much. We danced and laughed and had no idea what we were about to go through.

We were looking for a taxi to head home when it happened. A car full of guys pulled up and took April. They beat her up in front of me. I fought them a bit, but for the most part I froze. The Police told me there was nothing more I could do, and that I was tough for fighting them off enough to get way, but I will forever regret not doing more to save April. I couldn’t. They were armed. All I could do was run and hide. Eventually, I made it to the police station to report what had happened.

When I got there, I saw Blake Anderson, a guy I went to school with in Iowa. He’s a police officer now. He told me he’d find April. The search began, and because I witnessed the attack, they had me under Blake’s protective custody.

It’s worth mentioning that long before I came to New York, there was chemistry between Blake and me. I think that’s what clouded my vision so much in the end. Blake was made the lead officer in April’s case, and soon, all that chemistry was brought to the surface. I remembered the powerful crush on him when I was younger. It would have been hard to forget. It was so epic back then, but one day he just packed up and left town with his sister. It was terrible timing. The truth is I never forgot him so running into him again felt like fate. I was sure he was going to be able to help.

Things started well. Blake and the NYPD tried to find April, but a few days went by and there was still nothing! Blake interviewed April’s creepy uncle and a whole bunch of others until there were no leads left. Even the video of the attack was somehow deleted. He did find out April was planning on moving to New York and hadn’t told me. It turns out April was keeping secrets the whole time! I don’t know if those secrets have anything to do with why she was kidnapped. I still don’t know the truth.

The NYPD made little to no progress on the case. I was with Blake every day, talking over details and making theories. None of that helped. And then I began to fall in love with him all over again. The attraction was so strong neither of us could ignore it. It was incredible. I felt loved and accepted, and it made me believe that everything might finally be okay for me. And for April.

The FBI got involved. That’s when I met Jason Cooper. He told me things about Blake and the way he handled the case that made me rethink everything. Just like my friend April, it turned out that the man I thought I could trust had been keeping things from me.

Not only did he make mistakes on the investigation, but according to Jason, Blake was still in a romantic relationship with Neon, who had become one of the main suspects. That’s right, the woman who’s holding me hostage.

The FBI suspected Blake was part of the whole plan. They told me Blake and Neon were once together and their history was strong, which is why he couldn’t be trusted to run the case. I understand what a conflict of interest is, but I didn’t truly think he was cooperating with Neon until I saw with my own eyes on the street in New Jersey.

Somehow the FBI had found out where April was being held but they didn’t save her. I couldn’t believe it. April was being made to work as a prostitute and they let it happen. They were just using her as bait to try and take down the head of the operation.

That’s when I told Jason to stay away from me. After everything that had happened with Blake, I had found Jason’s presence comforting. I have to admit I even thought he could be right for me until I realized all he cared about was bringing down Blake and advancing his own career.

It was at that point I made a really big mistake. I decided to take things into my own hands. I dressed up as a prostitute and went back to the block in New Jersey. I found April right where the FBI left her, and tried to persuade her to come away with me. Before I knew what was happening, Blake and Jason showed up and got to fighting each other. In the confusion of it all, I was abducted by Neon’s guys too.

When I woke up I was in a warehouse, she was with the same men that attacked April. She beat me up before injecting me with drugs. They put me in this little room after that. Since then, all they’ve done is give me more drugs and taunt me. It’s a routine; it’s their way of preparing a girl for the streets, to get us to the point where we’ll do whatever they want.

One morning, I woke up and April was here with me, passed out on the other bed. She was unconscious and sick; and so thin. She wouldn’t wake up. I couldn’t really stay awake myself. It was a nightmare that came to life. When I woke up again after the drugs wore off, she was gone.

Yesterday I found this notebook. It belonged to another girl that they took. Her name was Sarah, and the first logs in this notebook are from her. I’m saddened about what happened to her and her friend Lucy. I’m also inspired, and determined to find a way to escape, so their stories can finally be told. In addition this account, Sarah left us some things. A pink feather, a nail file and an earring. You can read the first part of this journal to find out what they mean.

Right now, I am scared. I just heard them say I’m going be sent out to work the streets soon; probably tonight. They say I’m ready. That must mean that my tactic of not resisting the drugs is working, or maybe I am truly broken and I just don’t know it yet.

I made a list of my observations at the back of this book. It has everything I know about Neon’s thugs. If you’re reading this, please add to the list with the things you find out about them. Sarah started the list and I want it to go on. We need to keep building a case, even if both Sarah and I are no longer writing.

Thoughts of what could have happened to Sarah are with me constantly. I don’t know what happens when you go insane here. Lucy was killed, but if Sarah didn’t protest too much, maybe she was just abandoned, left somewhere to be found by someone else. Or he may be dead…

I don’t know why they never brought April back to this room. I don’t know if Blake is responsible for this or not. A part of me doesn’t believe it’s possible. But right now, I don’t trust anyone. I don’t know if I’m going to die tonight. I hope I will be writing again tomorrow. If not, this is goodbye.

I take a huge breath. It’s a start. I loosen my grip on the pen and put the book down. At least there’s a chance that one day, someone might hear my story. I look up at the ceiling for a second, and wonder what I’ll be facing out there tonight.

I can’t imagine Blake is involved. How could a man who seems so sweet be wrapped up with someone like Neon? The more I think about it, the less I believe he’s involved. He’d never have me at his home, introduce me to his nephew. Thinking about it, he’d never be such a good father figure in George’s life and then leave his home and get involved in Neon’s despicable underworld. Everything about her is toxic. There’s nothing redeeming. Maybe she was different back when he knew her.

The other thing I want to know—end eventually document in the notebook—is how many girls are in this building. The journal talks about a van full of girls coming and going from here. I haven’t heard much outside this room. I think I’d hear them if they were in other rooms. I’ve never met any other girls here. Maybe they’re extra careful about having us know about one another. Surely I’m not the only one.

I don’t know why Neon took me, but I guess it was an intentional act of revenge because I was with Blake. If she could be bothered to stalk me and then kidnap me, she must be trying to get something off Blake. It could be some sick emotional game. Who knows what that woman is up to.