Golden Trail
Page 190
Ryker smiled his ugly smile, it was without humor but filled with something else which made it uglier and a f**kuva lot scarier.
Then he ripped a cushion clean in two with his bare hands.
* * * * *
Towers’s apartment was clean so they moved to Rutledge’s.
By the sounds of it, Cal and Ryker were tearing up the downstairs. Or, at least Ryker was.
Layne was working the bedroom when he flipped the mattress on the bed, his eyes glancing across the bottom of the mattress to go to the box springs then his eyes shot back.
Stitches.
Shit.
He walked on the mattress, crouched down to the stitches and carefully slid his knife in. Ripping the material away, he reached in and felt it, he found the edge, pulled out the manila envelope and also pulled in breath.
He knew he didn’t want to see what was inside. Still, he opened the envelope carefully, shook out the eight by tens on the mattress and used his knife to move them around as his stomach churned.
Rutledge. Rutledge and Towers. Towers with girls with Rutledge in shot, watching; Rutledge with girls Layne had never seen; and Rutledge also with Tara Murdoch.
He stood, tearing his eyes away, looking at the wall, taking a moment to pull his shit together.
Then he pulled out his phone and called Merry.
“Hope this is good, big man, ‘cause I’m –”
“I’ve just located evidence that Harrison Rutledge is a pedophile,” Layne told him.
Silence then, “Where are you?”
“Rutledge’s apartment.”
“Man, we’re still holding on the search warrant,” Merry bit out.
“Good, then we’ve assisted the Department in a time-saving measure,” Layne shot back. “We’ll finish up, leave visible what you need to see and move out. No one needs to know that you boys didn’t make this mess.”
“Fuck, Tanner,” Merry hissed.
“Merry, suck it up and work with it,” Layne advised.
“This is not your burden, brother, you didn’t let those girls down,” Merry said low.
“No, brother, we all did,” Layne returned, flipped his phone shut and kept looking.
* * * * *
“This is bullshit!” Ryker barked. “Time is wastin’.”
Cal’s eyes cut to Layne, his phone to his ear, he moved out of Layne’s office and into the reception area, closing the door. Cal was working through every number on Rutledge’s cell phone bill, he had half the pile, Dave was sitting at the receptionist’s desk with the other half. They’d taken pictures at the apartment of a number of hopefully useful documents and gone to Layne’s office to print them out.
Ryker and Layne were going through credit card statements.
“Focus, Ryker,” Layne advised.
“Every second we waste –” Ryker growled.
“You wanna hold hands and meditate and hope her location pops in one of our heads?” Layne growled back. “Or do you wanna investigate this f**kwad and hope he tripped up and leads us to your girl?”
Ryker glared at him. Layne held his glare then looked back to the statements.
His eyes shifted through the one in his hand, down and then back up.
Then he stopped.
He had August’s statement. August was the month when Tara Murdoch told Sully the party was held. It started with a photo shoot where they gave the girls champagne likely laced with Rohpynol or another fast-acting, date rape drug. She’d woken up blindfolded. A ball gag with a handkerchief stuffed in her mouth. She’d described what the gag felt like and he’d seen it. She’d been tied to the bed. She’d taken five men, none of whom she’d seen, one of whom he knew. She had no idea how much time each one had with her but she reported they took their time however a girl enduring that, five minutes could seem like five hours.
When it was done, Towers had made her warnings and they were good ones. None of the girls talked for fear it would happen again. Each of them had a younger sister. Each of them was told, they talked, they’d come back and their sisters would be accompanying them. Alexis didn’t fit this profile but Giselle and Tiffany did. The girls were told to tell their parents they were with each other. They did and held their secret until Tara spilled it in the interrogation room.
Hannah lost her mind. Summer faded into herself. And Tara built a wall.
And Harrison Rutledge had ordered himself a couple of drinks from the bar prior to his turn and the dumbfuck had paid for them on a credit card.
Layne stood, grabbing his jacket as he growled, “Let’s go.”
Ryker’s head shot back then he was up with Layne. “What’d you get?”
Layne didn’t answer, he had his cell phone out and he was out the door. Cal’s eyes came to him when Layne put the cell phone to his ear. He jerked his head to the door, Cal took his cell from his ear and moved with them. Dave didn’t miss a beat and kept talking into his phone.
Merry answered, “You got something, Tanner?”
“Get IMPD to get units to every exclusive hotel in Indy, starting with The Townsend. And tell them to go in soft,” Layne ordered.
“On it,” Merry replied and then he disconnected.
Layne led Ryker and Cal down the stairs.
* * * * *
“Stick with me,” Layne murmured as he drove through the parking garage.
“We should get inside,” Ryker hissed.
“Stick with me,” Layne repeated.
“Shit, this is shit, this is bullshit,” Ryker muttered.
“A woman like that is not gonna revisit the scene of her crime,” Layne explained. “Rutledge had his sick fun at The Imperial. Second top spot in Indy is The Townsend. She’s there and she’s the kind of woman who can sense heat. She’s gonna bolt. She’s gotta go down, brother.”
Then he saw it and braked.
Not the silver BMW, her sporty, red Mazda.
He put the car in neutral, set the brake and turned to Ryker.
“Knife,” he growled.
Ryker didn’t hesitate, his hand went to his belt, he popped the button on his huge-ass knife, yanked it out and handed it over.
Layne opened his door, ordering, “Stay here.”
He jogged quickly to the Mazda, motioning with flicks of his fingers, communicating to Cal. Cal nodded through his windscreen and passed the Suburban.
Layne didn’t watch to see where Cal went. He crouched by the back tire, thrusting Ryker’s knife into the rubber. He moved forward and took out the front tire. He jogged around the car and did the same to the other side. Then he jogged back to his truck.
Then he ripped a cushion clean in two with his bare hands.
* * * * *
Towers’s apartment was clean so they moved to Rutledge’s.
By the sounds of it, Cal and Ryker were tearing up the downstairs. Or, at least Ryker was.
Layne was working the bedroom when he flipped the mattress on the bed, his eyes glancing across the bottom of the mattress to go to the box springs then his eyes shot back.
Stitches.
Shit.
He walked on the mattress, crouched down to the stitches and carefully slid his knife in. Ripping the material away, he reached in and felt it, he found the edge, pulled out the manila envelope and also pulled in breath.
He knew he didn’t want to see what was inside. Still, he opened the envelope carefully, shook out the eight by tens on the mattress and used his knife to move them around as his stomach churned.
Rutledge. Rutledge and Towers. Towers with girls with Rutledge in shot, watching; Rutledge with girls Layne had never seen; and Rutledge also with Tara Murdoch.
He stood, tearing his eyes away, looking at the wall, taking a moment to pull his shit together.
Then he pulled out his phone and called Merry.
“Hope this is good, big man, ‘cause I’m –”
“I’ve just located evidence that Harrison Rutledge is a pedophile,” Layne told him.
Silence then, “Where are you?”
“Rutledge’s apartment.”
“Man, we’re still holding on the search warrant,” Merry bit out.
“Good, then we’ve assisted the Department in a time-saving measure,” Layne shot back. “We’ll finish up, leave visible what you need to see and move out. No one needs to know that you boys didn’t make this mess.”
“Fuck, Tanner,” Merry hissed.
“Merry, suck it up and work with it,” Layne advised.
“This is not your burden, brother, you didn’t let those girls down,” Merry said low.
“No, brother, we all did,” Layne returned, flipped his phone shut and kept looking.
* * * * *
“This is bullshit!” Ryker barked. “Time is wastin’.”
Cal’s eyes cut to Layne, his phone to his ear, he moved out of Layne’s office and into the reception area, closing the door. Cal was working through every number on Rutledge’s cell phone bill, he had half the pile, Dave was sitting at the receptionist’s desk with the other half. They’d taken pictures at the apartment of a number of hopefully useful documents and gone to Layne’s office to print them out.
Ryker and Layne were going through credit card statements.
“Focus, Ryker,” Layne advised.
“Every second we waste –” Ryker growled.
“You wanna hold hands and meditate and hope her location pops in one of our heads?” Layne growled back. “Or do you wanna investigate this f**kwad and hope he tripped up and leads us to your girl?”
Ryker glared at him. Layne held his glare then looked back to the statements.
His eyes shifted through the one in his hand, down and then back up.
Then he stopped.
He had August’s statement. August was the month when Tara Murdoch told Sully the party was held. It started with a photo shoot where they gave the girls champagne likely laced with Rohpynol or another fast-acting, date rape drug. She’d woken up blindfolded. A ball gag with a handkerchief stuffed in her mouth. She’d described what the gag felt like and he’d seen it. She’d been tied to the bed. She’d taken five men, none of whom she’d seen, one of whom he knew. She had no idea how much time each one had with her but she reported they took their time however a girl enduring that, five minutes could seem like five hours.
When it was done, Towers had made her warnings and they were good ones. None of the girls talked for fear it would happen again. Each of them had a younger sister. Each of them was told, they talked, they’d come back and their sisters would be accompanying them. Alexis didn’t fit this profile but Giselle and Tiffany did. The girls were told to tell their parents they were with each other. They did and held their secret until Tara spilled it in the interrogation room.
Hannah lost her mind. Summer faded into herself. And Tara built a wall.
And Harrison Rutledge had ordered himself a couple of drinks from the bar prior to his turn and the dumbfuck had paid for them on a credit card.
Layne stood, grabbing his jacket as he growled, “Let’s go.”
Ryker’s head shot back then he was up with Layne. “What’d you get?”
Layne didn’t answer, he had his cell phone out and he was out the door. Cal’s eyes came to him when Layne put the cell phone to his ear. He jerked his head to the door, Cal took his cell from his ear and moved with them. Dave didn’t miss a beat and kept talking into his phone.
Merry answered, “You got something, Tanner?”
“Get IMPD to get units to every exclusive hotel in Indy, starting with The Townsend. And tell them to go in soft,” Layne ordered.
“On it,” Merry replied and then he disconnected.
Layne led Ryker and Cal down the stairs.
* * * * *
“Stick with me,” Layne murmured as he drove through the parking garage.
“We should get inside,” Ryker hissed.
“Stick with me,” Layne repeated.
“Shit, this is shit, this is bullshit,” Ryker muttered.
“A woman like that is not gonna revisit the scene of her crime,” Layne explained. “Rutledge had his sick fun at The Imperial. Second top spot in Indy is The Townsend. She’s there and she’s the kind of woman who can sense heat. She’s gonna bolt. She’s gotta go down, brother.”
Then he saw it and braked.
Not the silver BMW, her sporty, red Mazda.
He put the car in neutral, set the brake and turned to Ryker.
“Knife,” he growled.
Ryker didn’t hesitate, his hand went to his belt, he popped the button on his huge-ass knife, yanked it out and handed it over.
Layne opened his door, ordering, “Stay here.”
He jogged quickly to the Mazda, motioning with flicks of his fingers, communicating to Cal. Cal nodded through his windscreen and passed the Suburban.
Layne didn’t watch to see where Cal went. He crouched by the back tire, thrusting Ryker’s knife into the rubber. He moved forward and took out the front tire. He jogged around the car and did the same to the other side. Then he jogged back to his truck.
