Friday Late Afternoon

  Merrville Sheriff's Department

  "Newsome here," Dave says, answering his phone without reading the display.

  "I certainly hope so, Dave. Unless you left the wrong phone with your honey bear?"

  "What's up, Mackey?" Dave laughs.

  "What's up...Is I want to do a stakeout of Stefan Clayborne's place. Nothing official. I'm just gonna hang out there for a few hours this evening. See what I can see. I need you to keep tabs on Madison. Make sure she stays safe. Can you do that for me, Dave?"

  "The guy's on a delivery run, James. What do you think you're gonna see?"

  "Whatever...Or whoever Stefan was afraid of this morning. It may be nothing. But I need to know. I need to be sure."

  "Okay, Mack. Just be careful. Don't take any unnecessary risks. You see something that isn't right, you call for backup. You hear me, Mack?"

  "Yeah, yeah. Talk to you later, Dave. I have lots to do before tonight. Octavia just brought over the coroner's reports on the twin sisters and some photos. Gonna go over them a bit. Not that I want to. Mitch and his goons are really breathing down my neck. Considering these latest girls were the prior police chief's nieces...I'm not surprised. Got a call from our old FBI friend, Lauren. She wanted to give us fair warning. They're feeling pressure too. The public wants results. This Stefan guy might make that possible. I'll let you know if I find out anything new."

  "Alright, Mack. Be safe."

  James hangs up without another word. Dave glances down at the phone and shakes his head. He shifts his gaze to the small calendar on the top-right corner of his desk. The sly deputy scribbles messily in the margin, using his own version of shorthand to prevent anyone from deciphering his message.

  "363 Lima," Dave whispers very softly, his mind drifting. "Hmmm. Things don't change much do they? Scumbags are scumbags. Like Aquarius. That dirtbag is a real piece of work. Raped his own mother. How does someone become that sick? Hmmm. A guy like Eduard Maldavo would've known something about that. He was as sick as they come. Glad the ole son of a bitch is dead."

  Dave had experienced said sickness first-hand. Along with Octavia Patterson--former undercover cop turned detective.

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  Several Years Before

  Eduard Maldavo's den of drugs, gambling, girls, and prostitution

  It has been several minutes since Maldavo's henchmen Big Frankie and Lil Joey followed the pregnant young woman out of the club. A third flunky has joined the scumlord near the pink doors, one of the slick-haired fellows from the front hallway. Dogs protecting their master.

  Octavia's heart races as she goes over what she must do. To get in good with Maldavo, she will need to be convincing. To Octavia's way of thinking, other than shapely hips and a nice set of breasts, she isn't really the kind of chick Eduard Maldavo goes for. Aging is on her side though. She still gets carded every time she asks for a beer. A good feeling really.

  Octavia breathes in deeply, focusing herself. Readjusting the neckline of her very tight dress, she prepares to climb to her feet. The dapper deputy purposely adjusts his chair, one wooden leg scraping the floor. This is the cue the undercover unit has agreed upon. Octavia and a few others look in his direction, but the deputy pretends to be absorbed in watching the woman onstage. Rather, he pretends to be pretending. Showtime.

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  Exhaling softly, Octavia climbs to her feet. She makes her way toward the far corner of the room, the deputy turns ever so slightly, in order to watch her out of his peripheral vision. Other undercover officers and deputies are staged throughout the dark room, in varying types of street clothes.

  Approaching Eduard, Octavia uses her most pleasing walk, purposely sticking out her chest. She wants to ensure that her bosom is the first thing the drug lord notices. Maldavo's topless clubs are almost legendary in these parts. Despite the slumlord's clubs being run exclusively underground, under the table, and without any form of legal oversight. Tying Sir Eduard Maldova to any of the activities performed within the organization has proven to be law enforcement's Achilles heel.

  "Hello, Mr. Maldavo. My name is Yasmin. I was told you're looking for more girls for your club," Octavia says in a saucy voice, showing the club owner her pearly whites in the process. "It seems they were right. You now have an opening."

  Eduard blinks a few times before peering at his henchman. The slick-haired man is too busy looking Octavia over to pay any attention. Maldavo's mouth twists to one side as he appraises the young woman in front of him.

  "You're bold. But you're also kind of cute. Ever done any dancing before?" the scumlord asks, grayish-blue eyes narrowing.

  "Not really. But I've visited your club a few times. I've seen how it's done, Mr. Maldavo. I think I can handle it," Octavia says.

  "Uh-huh. We have a hierarchy here, girl. Those who have done me the most favors...Get the best gigs. Which means, you want to make the real money...You have to be willing to earn your spot. Start at the bottom...Work your way up. You understand me?"

  "I understand, Mr. Maldavo," Octavia says, wanting to throw up in her mouth.

  "Karine, there. She's been with me for five years. It took three years and almost $600 thousand dollars to get her looking that fine. That's my hard-earned money in that body. You think you look any better, girl? Can you top Karine?"

  "I don't...I don't know."

  "Let me see 'em?" Maldavo says with a blank expression.

  "What...What...Let you see..."

  "Show me your tits," Maldavo insists, eyes growing pinpointed.

  "I thought you said I'd start at the bottom and work my way up, Mr. Maldavo?"

  "Do you want to join the boss's club or not, lady? He won't tell you again," henchman three says.

  Maldavo steps forward, directly into Octavia's personal space. Gripping her tightly around the waist with his left arm, he pulls her to him. Octavia's eyes widen as the insane drug lord uses his right hand to yank down the front of her dress. He drops his eyes to her chest, inspecting the merchandise in the strobing light.

  "Hmmm. Skin's okay. No stretch marks. No discoloration. Nipples and areolas are a bit dark though. Our customers prefer nipples a bit lighter. The girls with the brightest nipples do a hell of a lot better. Like Karine there. She kills the bank every night with those gorgeous nipples of hers. There's always bleaching, though. You up to having your nipples bleached, girl? It'll cost you. Other than that...Not half bad."

  As if to demonstrate his approval, Maldavo pinches Octavia's left nipple between two fingers. The woman officer's heart is now pounding in her chest. She focuses on a spot directly over the drug lord's slicked down hair, as he turns her breasts this way and that in his hands. He studies their size, shape, firmness, and texture; running his fingers aggressively over her nipples. She'd heard Maldavo was an animal, but she hadn't expected him to be this vile. Suddenly, her being voluntold makes a lot more sense. What woman in her right mind would willingly volunteer to be handled by the likes of Eduard Maldavo?

  Octavia is grateful for their location near the back of the club. Most eyes are still on the young woman on the dance stage. However, the dapper deputy is now turned even more in their direction, glancing over one broad shoulder. Octavia mouths the word 'no'. He can't blow his cover. As if hearing her, the deputy turns a little back toward the front and stares straight ahead. A feeling of loneliness descends over Octavia and she temporarily disassociates, allowing Maldavo to do what he pleases. From the looks of things, at least, they're in.

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  After Mackey's Call to Dave

  Fell's Springs Police Department

  "Detective Patterson! You've got a call. Line six. It's the Merrville Sheriff's Department. Deputy Newsome, I think," a male officer calls to Octavia.

  "Thanks, Troy," Octavia replies in a droll voice. "Yes. This is Detective Patterson. How can I help you, Dave?"

  "I'm so sorry, Octavia," Dave responds. "I shouldn't have sat there like a bump on a log. I should have done something. Anything."

  "You did your job, Dave. No one can fault you for that. We got Maldavo in the end. That's all that matters. Now, is there anything concerning our current investigation which you need to discuss with me? If not...I've got a lot of work to do."

  "No. I just...I needed to tell you that," Dave says.

  "Well, now you've told me. Thank you, Deputy Newsome. I'll keep you updated on any further developments."

  Detective Patterson quickly ends the phone call before tears can run down her face. She's a police officer, dammit! Experiences like this shouldn't bother her anymore. So why does Maldavo's name still cause cold shivers to travel her spine? Why does she still feel his hands on her breasts and his mouth on her neck, from time to time? Why does she still remember what his tongue felt like in her mouth and on her skin? What is wrong with her?

  Bending over her desk, Octavia directs her remaining emotional energy into digging for information. Information, which could lead to the capture of the crazed Aquarius. Her heart aches for the killer's numerous victims. What terror they must have felt.