12. Cipher
CIPHER
T he salty tang of the Puget Sound clung to the air, mingling with the faint scent of diesel and brine as I stood at the edge of the crime scene near the marina in Silverdale. The air was thick with the stench of decay as I stared at the girl’s lifeless body. The girl’s body lay crumpled in a shadowed alley near the Port of Silverdale, a stone’s throw from the water. The hum of boats and the occasional gull’s cry felt cruelly indifferent to the scene unfolding.
Her once vibrant skin was pale and mottled against the damp pavement, her lifeless eyes staring into nothing. The word Slut was crudely carved deep into her chest, the jagged edges of the letters seeping with blood even in death. I recognized her instantly. She’d been one of Illicit’s girls, and quickly became another victim of Yulian’s depravity.
I clenched my fists, the leather of my gloves creaking under the strain. This was Yulian’s calling card. A message written in blood and fear. The bastard was toying with us, every breadcrumb he left was a taunt that dragged me deeper into this darkness.
Cops swarmed the scene, the radios crackling as they barked orders and sectioned off the area. Their flashlights cut through the growing twilight. Yellow tape fluttered in the cool evening breeze, a stark barrier between the living and the dead. A few onlookers gathered near the marina, their faces pale as they murmured among themselves.
I stood outside the tape, my jaw tight, my hands itching to grab Yulian by the throat and make him pay for every life he’d ruined.
“Detective Garcia,” one of the officers called out to me. I turned, my expression cold and unreadable.
“We’ve got a lead,” he continued. “Witness spotted a black sedan heading east about an hour before the body was found. Matches the description of Yulian Volkov’s vehicle.”
“Have it checked against the database,” I replied. “I want every street camera and toll record reviewed.”
The officer nodded, hurrying off as I surveyed the scene one last time.Ray suddenly approached, he’d been talking to one of the witnesses who had found the body.
“Find anything?” I asked.
“Witnesses at the hotel saw her last with Tommy Lingdale. Tommy fell asleep and when he woke up she wasn’t in the room and her stuff was gone.”
“Didn’t take him long to replace Mila, did it? Fucker is probably going to have Daddy bail him out, but before he does, book him. I want to talk to the motherfucker.”
Ray nodded, he knew better than to question me at this point. I wanted answers and Tommy Lingdale may actually be of some use here.
I stayed a few more hours before heading back to the precinct. Every detail burned itself into my mind—the angle of the girl’s body, the faint smear of blood leading away from her like a trail. He was escalating, and it was only a matter of time before the violence hit closer to Mila.
The precinct reeked of stale coffee and desperation. Tommy Lingdale sat across from me in the small, dimly lit interview room, his slicked-back hair damp with sweat. His expensive designer shirt clung to him like a second skin, but no amount of cashmere could hide the trembling mess underneath.
"Let’s cut the shit, Tommy," I said, leaning forward, my forearms resting on the metal table between us. "You were the last person seen with her."
"I didn’t do anything!" he stammered, his voice cracking. His hands were clutched tightly in his lap, and his eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape.
I slammed my fist on the table, making him jump. "Then why the hell is she dead, Tommy? Why does she have Slut carved into her chest like a goddamn trophy?!"
His face went pale, and he shook his head vehemently. "I-I don’t know! I swear! She left my room! I didn’t even know she was dead until the cops knocked on my door!"
I pushed back from the table and paced the room, my fists clenched. This little prick thought he could play dumb, but I knew better. "What did you see? What did you hear?"
Tommy flinched, his voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing. She was fine when I went to sleep."
“You’ve got ties the Russians you don’t want us to know about, Tommy?”
“Fuck, no,” his voice cracked in a high pitch and I stopped pacing and leaned over the table, getting in his face. "Listen to me, you privileged piece of shit. Yulian Volkov doesn’t leave loose ends, and neither do I. You want your daddy to keep writing those fat checks to get you out of trouble? Then you better start talking, or I’ll make sure you regret every breath you take."
Tommy squirmed in his chair, his bravado crumbling. A dark stain spread across the front of his expensive slacks, and the sharp tang of urine hit the air.
The door burst open, and in stormed Councilman Lingdale, his face a mask of fury, with a lawyer hot on his heels. "What the hell is going on here, Detective Garcia?!"
I turned to face him, my expression cold and unyielding. "Councilman Lingdale, your son is a person of interest in an ongoing murder investigation and you do not belong in here."
"This is outrageous!" Lingdale barked, pointing a finger at me. "You have no right to interrogate him like this. I’ll have your badge for this!"
"Go ahead," I said, stepping closer. "Your son is over the age of eighteen and his Miranda rights have been read. He’s not walking out of here until I’m satisfied with his answers."
The lawyer, a slick, snake-like man in a tailored suit, stepped forward. "Detective, I advise you to release my client immediately, or we’ll have grounds for a lawsuit."
I shot him a glare that would’ve made lesser men piss themselves. "He’s not going anywhere until I’ve got what I need."
Lingdale’s face reddened, his composure slipping. "You’re out of your league, Garcia. I’ll make sure you regret this."
"Funny," I said, my voice dripping with venom. "Your son said the same thing. Look how that turned out."
Lingdale’s nostrils flared, but he knew better than to escalate further. The lawyer whispered something in his ear, and the councilman nodded reluctantly.
"This isn’t over," Lingdale said, his voice low and threatening.
Aiyana approached the doorway, nodding at me silently. “He’s free to go gentlemen,” she uttered and I clenched down on my jaw, keeping myself from saying another word.
I watched as they ushered Tommy out of the room, the kid looking like a whipped dog. My blood boiled as the door closed behind them. Lingdale could pull strings all he wanted, but I wasn’t backing down.
Ray entered the room, his expression grim. "You okay, Detective?"
I let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through my hair. "No. But I will be once we nail that kid’s ass to the wall."
Ray handed me a folder. "We’ve got the street cam footage. Black sedan was spotted heading toward a warehouse near the port. Matches Yulian’s MO."
"Good," I said, my mind already racing. "Let’s gear up. We’re going to pay it a visit."
But as I left the precinct, my thoughts drifted back to Mila. Yulian was closing in, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the ultimate prize in his sick game.
And I’d burn the whole damn city to the ground before I let him take her.