“So there won’t be an interview. He’ll take her somewhere else instead?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t hear any of this from me. Me and you,” she said, “we never talked. And don’t you ever come anywhere near me again—you hear me?” And then Kobi Millard turned around, spine stiff and head held high as she made her way toward the store’s entrance.
Lizzy watched the house, her gaze on the electric gate in front of a long driveway lined with palm trees. Even from here she could see the fountain with trickling water in front of the grand entrance to Wayne Bennett’s mansion.
What is he doing at this very moment? His wife probably shoved dinner in front of him and then watched the clock, waiting for him to leave. She probably didn’t give a rat’s ass what her husband did after he left the house. Women like Mrs. Bennett weren’t stupid. He’d already been arrested once, long ago, for molesting an underage female. And Lizzy could guarantee he’d be arrested again. In fact, she was going to make sure of it. Mrs. Bennett was probably counting the minutes, waiting for a nice quiet respite from the evil man who shared her bed.
But did Mrs. Bennett ever stop to think of her husband’s victims?
Were diamonds and pearls worth living with a disgusting, manipulative excuse of a man?
Lizzy counted to ten and reined in her anger. She’d never met the woman. She shouldn’t judge. She wanted to throw up. Every thought of late, every bit of focus, was on taking Bennett down. She couldn’t stop if she wanted to.
Lizzy sipped water from her reusable bottle, and then rubbed her stomach. She felt bloated and uncomfortable. She unfastened the top button of her jeans and was rewarded with instantaneous relief. It was six o’clock already, and she began to wonder if Kobi had the date and time wrong. Maybe tonight wasn’t the night, after all. And that’s when the iron gates to the monster’s lair slid open.
It was him. Time to take care of business.
The video camera hooked to her dashboard was ready to go. She turned it on, waited until he was far enough ahead, and then followed him down the street. She’d been doing surveillance long enough to know she needed to stay a safe distance away.
Tammy Walters had confirmed that Bennett preferred to do his evil business under the cloak of darkness. He’d rarely taken her sister Miriam out during the day. The problem for Lizzy was that ever since he’d been under public scrutiny, he’d been more careful. He was a patient man. But although he had deep pockets, he’d already called in a lot of favors. She could only hope he was running out of people to bribe.
As she followed him, making sure not to miss a traffic light before merging onto the highway, it angered her anew that he used his position in life to take advantage of these young women. He was rich and handsome. A reputable man like Wayne Bennett made it easy for the women being mentored to throw caution to the wind. He was their savior—the man who could change their lives for the better. He took dreams into the palm of his hand and crushed them.
Fifteen minutes later, she followed him off the highway and through a maze of smaller side streets, bringing them to La Riviera. Many of the houses on this particular road had weeds for lawns and broken windows. Most of the mailboxes had been dented in or were missing altogether. Kids vented, got their frustrations out by damaging other people’s property. And then they went on to become gang members, druggies, rapists, whatever. Nobody gave a shit.
Two blocks away, parked at the curb, Lizzy watched a young girl leave her apartment, turn back, and wave at whoever stood at the door before she climbed into the black sedan awaiting her arrival.
It boggled the mind to see the man at work. Not a care in the world. Right there out in the open for everyone to see. He wasn’t afraid of anyone. He was king of the world, powerful and in control. The hatred she felt for the man continued to grow in intensity. He used his success to manipulate people and make them do things to satisfy his revolting desires. Wayne Bennett’s father had been a well-respected businessman in Sacramento, all the way up to his death. Wayne Bennett attended the best schools. He married well and went on to have two kids. He made his family proud. After his business flourished, he decided to give back to the community. But apparently that wasn’t enough.
She followed the black sedan. The red light on the video assured her it was still recording. Her phone rang, lighting up the screen on her dashboard. It was Hayley.
No need to turn video off since it would not record sound. “Answer call.”
“Lizzy. It’s Hayley. Are you there?”
“I’m here. What do you need?”
“I thought we were going to have a meeting tonight?”
“We’ll have to move it to tomorrow night.”
“You’re not following Wayne Bennett on your own, are you?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“The man is dangerous.”
“He’s no different than the others on our list.”
“Since the disappearance of Miriam Walters, we agreed that Wayne Bennett should be a two-man surveillance at all times.”
“Gotta go.”
She disconnected the call. It was growing dark now, but the traffic was light, making for an easy tail. A mile and a half later, he took a right onto a lonely-looking street. As Lizzy drove on past, she saw his brake lights flash halfway down the block. After pulling a quick U-turn, she eased to the curb at the intersection in time to see a garage door finish opening and Bennett pull the car inside. Lizzy watched the door clamp shut.
What the hell was going on? She’d been expecting Bennett to pull into an abandoned warehouse or a parking lot, but a house?
After walking up the block for the street number, she returned to her car and called the police. She reported suspicious activity at the address, then dialed Kitally’s number. She didn’t want to knock on the door and give herself up too early. What if Bennett was there to pick up another girl? But why would he have pulled his car inside the garage?
“What’s up?” Kitally asked.
“I need you to use the Realtor database and look up an address for me. I need to know who a certain house belongs to at 552 Indian Drive in West Sac.”
After Lizzy was put on hold, she rolled down her window to get a better look at the neighborhood. A dog barked in the distance. The row of houses on both sides of the street across from her looked the same, mostly one-story homes with small yards. Despite the zip-up hoodie she wore, shivers coursed up her arms. Thoughts of Jared drifted over her just as Kitally came back on the line, saving her from feeling the wave of darkness that came over her every time memories surfaced.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Kitally said. “Most of the houses in that area belong to the JR Millennial Company, owed by Wayne Bennett himself.”
“Interesting,” Lizzy said. “If you could find out how many homes he owns in the Sacramento area, that would be appreciated. Just give me the information when I see you next, OK?”
“Not a problem. Be careful.”
Lizzy disconnected the call. She focused her attention back on the house into which she’d seen Wayne Bennett disappear.
The lights were on. No cries for help. Nothing unusual. The police were notoriously slow. Nothing new there, either. More than anything, she wanted to knock down the door and catch him in the act. She considered doing a search around the perimeter of the house. In the end, if she really wanted to get this guy, she needed to be patient. She needed to do things by the book.
At least for now.
At last she was relieved to see the lights of a police cruiser headed her way. The cruiser turned down the street and pulled into the driveway of the address she’d given the dispatcher. Two cops exited the vehicle, went to the door, and knocked.