Chapter 9
Thursday morning dawned gray and rainy. Their third interview took them north to Fort Lauderdale, to a woman named Celeste who had been listed among Mara Andrews’ personal contacts.
The apartment complex sat behind a wrought-iron gate, surrounded by dripping palms and hibiscus battered by the weather. Celeste lived in a garden apartment on the second floor, secured by half-a-dozen locks. Her cat perched on the far end of the couch, eyeing them with distinct disapproval.
Celeste did not cry. Whatever tears she had left had long since become anger.
“Mara was responsible, not reckless,” she said before Gaby finished the first question. “I know that’s what people think when a young woman disappears. They start judging her actions. Mistakes she made. Risks she took.”
“We’re not assuming anything,” Gaby said, exchanging a glance with Rhys.
Celeste snorted, folding her arms. “So you say, but I’ve heard it for two years.”
Rhys shifted forward slightly, enough to show he was engaged. “Tell us about her.”
Hesitation crossed Celeste’s face. “How much do you know?”
Neither answered immediately, which seemed to tell Celeste what she wanted to know.
“So, not much.”
She reached down absently and scratched behind the cat’s ears. “We met through a lifestyle group.”
Gaby’s pen paused over her notebook. Rhys went still beside her. Not visibly, but Gaby knew him well enough to recognize it.
“You know,” Celeste continued, “BDSM. The group provided education, held events and social gatherings.”
“What kind of events?” Rhys asked.
“Nothing illegal or particularly salacious, despite what the media likes to imply. Munches, mostly. Meet and greets. Parties at members’ homes.” Her mouth tightened before she clarified, “Mara was submissive.”
Anna Bellamy’s black lace collar flashed through Gaby’s mind. The receipts. The hidden life her parents hadn’t known about.
Two of four missing women could be a coincidence. Except her instincts were whispering otherwise.
“Did Mara ever mention any clubs she went to?” Gaby asked.
Celeste’s eyes widened. “She went to The Underground clubs sometimes. I went with her once but didn’t feel comfortable. It didn’t seem… authentic. Why? Is her murder connected?”
“We don’t know that,” Rhys cut in evenly. “We’re just trying to get some leads.”
“She preferred smaller groups, but when she was lonely, she went where she knew someone would talk to her.” Celeste looked toward the window. “That sounds sadder out loud.”
“Loneliness usually does,” Rhys said.
Celeste’s eyes shifted to him. “She was careful,” she said again, softer this time. “That’s what makes me so angry. Everyone acts as if being cautious means you’re safe. It doesn’t. It only means people blame you a little less afterward.”
Gaby wrote Mara’s name beneath Anna’s, adding some of the words Celeste had used for her. Careful. Responsible. Cautious. Never asking for it but still gone.
“Did she ever mention Anna Bellamy?” Rhys asked.
“Not that I recall.”
“What about any of these women?” Gaby asked, sliding the photos of Anna, Isabel, and Faith across the table.
Celeste studied each one before shaking her head. “Are they dead, too?”
“Missing,” Gaby clarified.
“Oh, my God.” Her hand rose to her mouth. “Is this a serial killer? Why hasn’t it been on the news?”
“We’ve only found a loose connection between two of the women,” Rhys clarified.
“So far,” Celeste replied.
The room went quiet because Gaby was thinking that too, and knowing Rhys, he’d reached the same conclusion.
Gaby gathered the photos. “You’ve been helpful. Thank you,” she said, trying to wrap things up.
“You can thank me by finding who did it.”
She didn’t walk them to the door, so they showed themselves out.
They made it to the car right before the sky opened. Rain battered the roof as they sat for a moment, processing what they’d learned.
Gaby opened the folder in her lap and looked at Anna and Mara. Different women. Different lives. The same community.
She considered Isabel and Faith. What if they moved through the same circles?
Rhys started the engine but didn’t pull away. “You’re quiet,” he said.
“That’s usually your thing.”
“Deflection noted.”
She gave him a look.
He waited. Damn profiler.
Gaby looked back at the photos. “They went somewhere they thought was safe. That respected choice and consent.” Her voice went lower. “And a predator may have used that against them.”
His expression hardened. “Yes.”
The single word carried more weight than a longer answer would have.
Gaby closed the folder. “We need the member logs from every Underground location. Staff names. Event nights. Security footage.” She watched the rain pour down the windshield, dread twisting her stomach into a sickening knot. “This is bigger than we first thought.”
“I think you’re right.”
“We were too late for these women. What if he strikes again?”
Rhys was quiet for a moment. “He probably will.”
Gaby looked over; the blunt honesty startled her.
“If we’re right, you know what this means.”
“He’s been doing this for years,” she answered, the implication sitting heavy in her chest.
Two women, maybe four, that they knew of. But how many more were out there?
The rain slowed from a hammering to a steady drumming. She still had to raise her voice to be heard. “We need to find him.”
“We will, because now we know where to look.”
It wasn’t bravado or reassurance. He said it as confidently as a fact.
Rhys shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the lot. When they merged into traffic, water pooled on the street, but it was only drizzling. The sound of dialing filled the interior.
“Who are you calling?” she asked.
“Dev.” His gaze remained fixed on the road. “It’s time we briefed the team.”
***
By ten o’clock, curiosity had become a distraction.
Dev’s message calling a meeting had been brief: Conference room. 1000 hours. New development.
That was it. No details or attachments.
Most of the team had gathered. While they waited, Alec briefed the new arrivals on the facts of the case so far. Lots of questions, few answers. Callan, who wasn’t used to being in the dark for one of these briefings, hated it.
“What’s this about?” he asked for at least the third time.
“You’ll know when I do,” Dev replied without looking up from the stack of paperwork Greta had brought in for him to sign.
“That’s not an answer,” Callan grumbled.
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
Across the table, Jesse chuckled into his coffee. “You realize he’s not going to stop asking.”
Callan scowled.
Boone stretched his legs out under the table. “It’s only been a couple of days. Does this mean we’ve finally got one of those easy cases?”
The room fell silent then several people laughed.
“Careful,” Alec warned. “The universe hears things like that.”
“And likes to shit on you when you least expect it,” Leland concluded.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Rafe muttered, drawing surprised looks. But that was a puzzle for another time because the conference room door opened.
Gaby walked in first. Rhys followed a step behind. Neither looked relieved, as if they’d solved the case, or particularly excited about what they were about to share.
Leland suddenly had a bad feeling about whatever this was.
Gaby slid a folder onto the conference table and dropped into the nearest chair with more force than grace.
Dev straightened slightly. “What did you find?”
“Overlap,” she stated succinctly.
Rhys provided more. “Anna Bellamy frequented The Underground. So did Mara Andrews.”
Alec pushed away from the wall. “That’s no coincidence.”
“Anna’s parents gave detectives receipts months ago,” Gaby disclosed as Rhys linked her phone to the smart screen and displayed photos of crumpled register tapes. “They had the name and dates but never followed up.”
Dev frowned. “Why does this sound familiar?”
“Because it is,” Gaby replied, her bitterness plain.
“I thought they cleaned house and hired a new chief,” Leland said.
“They did,” Dev said. “The investigation into Anna’s disappearance predates him.”
“None of the women knew each other personally as far as we can tell,” Rhys said. “But fit the same general profile.”
Dev pointed to the header of one receipt. “This isn’t from The Underground.”
“They have three locations: North, the Driftwood in Miami Beach, and another downtown called The Velvet Room,” Rhys clarified. “At least two of the victims visited more than one place.”
Alec let out a breath. “So, he’s not tied to one club.”
“He doesn’t need to be,” Gaby said. “The location doesn’t matter. The access does.”
Leland studied the four faces on the screen. “He’s hunting.” The room went quiet. “Three clubs with overlapping membership,” he said. “He can scout targets, build familiarity, and hide in plain sight.”
Nobody disagreed; they could all see it. Not random disappearances, or disconnected cases. A pattern that was deliberate, patient, and escalating.
Dev was done talking. “We need access to their surveillance. Someone needs to pay the owner a visit.” His eyes moved from Alec to Leland, the implication clear.
Callan smirked faintly. “Smart. Leland can be persuasive.”
“Without saying a word,” Alec said.
“We also need member and guest registration, employee rosters, attendance logs, and the details of their security procedures,” Dev continued. “Anything that gives us a better picture of who’s moving through those clubs.”
“I’m free now,” Leland said, rising from his chair.
Jesse looked up from his phone. “Their website says they don’t open until four.”
Callan turned to his laptop. “That gives me time to keep digging.”
“Try sleeping at some point,” Dev suggested.
He didn’t look up. “I can sleep when we find the killer.”
No one contradicted him. How could they when he was right?
Chairs creaked as the meeting adjourned with a solid lead and more threads to pull.
As Alec gathered his files, he glanced at Leland. “Looks like we’ve got a date tonight.”
Leland gave him a blank stare, unamused.
“At least it’s a kink club. Could be interesting.”
“Still sounds terrible,” he drawled.
“You never know. We might learn something.”
“Highly doubtful.” Leland fell in beside him as they headed out. “Just in case it comes up,” he said, “you’re the bottom.”
“Who says?”
“Emily.”
The chuckles from those remaining started before they made it through the doorway.
Alec shot him an affronted look. “You keep dragging my wife into these discussions.”
“Because she keeps proving me right.”
Alec muttered under his breath as laughter followed them into the hallway. But his protests were half-hearted. Everyone knew who wore the cuffs in that relationship.