“A bundle of rods, usually around the handle of an axe. A symbol of power.”
“That is strange,” Lizzy agreed. “What did he leave with the latest victim?”
“At first they came up empty-handed, but I figured if it were the same killer, there had to be something in the vicinity. You see, he doesn’t always leave the object on the body. Sometimes he buries it nearby or hangs the item from a tree. Mitchell wasn’t happy with me, but hell, I didn’t ask for this, so Jimmy finally talked Mitchell into sending crime scene technicians back to the scene. Sure enough, they found a vintage mirror buried deep under the soil a few feet away from where they found the woman’s body.”
“A mirror? Do you know what that means?”
“Not a clue.”
There was a moment’s pause before Jessica said, “So, will you consider coming with me to talk to Jimmy?”
“I’ll think about it,” Lizzy said as they turned in to the parking area of an apartment complex.
They climbed out of the car. It was getting dark, and a cold breeze swept across Lizzy’s face. She pulled out her cell and read the note she’d made earlier: Olimpia Padula. Apartment 6D.
They headed up more than one flight of stairs before they found her apartment. Lizzy knocked on the door and waited.
“Who is it?”
“Lizzy Gardner. We talked on the phone thirty minutes ago.”
“Who is that with you?”
If she told the woman Jessica was with the FBI, she’d never talk to her. “This is Jessica Pleiss, my assistant.”
The door opened a crack. Olimpia Padula took a long look at both of them before she removed the chain and gestured for them to come inside.
Once they were seated, Olimpia said, “I heard through the grapevine that you were on some sort of personal vendetta to see Wayne Bennett pay for what he’s done to me and others.”
“Vendetta?” Jessica asked, though she was looking at Lizzy when she said it.
Lizzy raised her hand, letting Jessica know that now was not the time to butt in. “Call it whatever you want,” Lizzy told the woman. “I want to see the man behind bars where he won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”
“Amen to that,” Olimpia said. “Where should I start?”
“Anywhere you’d like.”
Olimpia took a breath. “I thought I was the luckiest woman on earth,” she began. “Not only had I made it into Wayne Bennett’s prestigious program, I was selected for an interview with Tom Lungren, the president of a million-dollar consulting firm right here in Sacramento. Mr. Bennett called me the day of the interview and told me specifically to take a shower, do my hair, and dress up nice.” She made a face. “The idea of the man calling me to remind me to take a shower was off-putting, to say the least, but I was too excited about the interview to worry about it much. I did exactly what he asked me to do. Do you have any idea how much a new dress and shoes cost?”
Before anyone could respond, she added, “It cost me my entire paycheck. I can hardly afford food, let alone rent, but I spent my paycheck on a dress and shoes.”
Lizzy made notes as the woman spoke. There weren’t too many people willing to talk about Wayne Bennett. She didn’t want to miss a thing.
“Mr. Bennett picked me up in his nice shiny black sedan,” Olimpia continued. “He was wearing a dark suit and tie. The man even got out of the car to open the door for me.” She took in a breath. “I can’t deny it. He looked good. He was wearing some sort of spicy aftershave, and he smelled good, too.” She locked gazes with Lizzy. “I thought I was on my way . . . know what I mean?”
Lizzy nodded, anything to keep her talking.
“Have you ever heard Wayne Bennett give one of his speeches about poor girls like me being the future?”
“No,” Lizzy said, “I haven’t. But I’ve seen and heard him enough times to know he can charm the lollipop right out of a little girl’s clutches.”
Olimpia fidgeted. “I thought it was strange when he brought me to some old dilapidated house with shingles falling from the roof. Who does interviews in a run-down, low-rent shack with a rusty mailbox?” She shook her head. “Nobody does. But did I listen to my instincts and run off? Did I tell him I’d changed my mind and wanted to leave? Nope,” she said, her voice trembling now. “I followed the man inside, and then I took the drink he offered me. After three sips, I began to feel woozy.”
Olimpia buried her face in the palms of her hands and began to cry.
Jessica moved next to her on the couch and patted her hand. As Lizzy watched Jessica, she felt a sense of pride she didn’t really understand. From the beginning, Jessica had been a lot like Jared. She believed there was more good in the world than bad. She was compassionate and caring, and when it came to her principles, she’d never wavered. Not once.
“I’m so sorry,” Olimpia said as she sat up straighter. “I thought I could do this without crying. I guess I was wrong.” Mascara trickled down her face as she said, “Wayne Bennett raped me. He did other things, too. Horrible, unspeakable things. At some point during the evening, I passed out. When I woke up, he was hovering over me. He told me to get dressed. We left the house and climbed into his nice car. On the way home, he explained what would happen if I ever told anyone about what went down.”
“Did he threaten your family members?”
She smiled then. “He sure did. He threatened to do to my sisters what he had just done to me. He went into great detail about the fate of every family member if I talked to anyone at all. And then he pulled his car to the curb. But this time he didn’t bother getting out. He just smiled at me as if we now shared a unique bond. And then he told me I was special and that he couldn’t wait until next time.”
“Did you go back into the program after that night?”
“Not a chance in hell. I called the rape crisis center and did everything they told me to do. I went straight to the hospital and filled out a police report. That same week, I heard you were spending a lot of time and energy trying to find someone to speak in court against Wayne Bennett. And I knew it would have to be me.”
“I have to be clear about something,” Lizzy told her. “Bennett is a very dangerous man, and I don’t have the resources to provide round-the-clock protection for you.”
“I’m not worried about him. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“What about your family?” Jessica asked.
“That’s the best part. He must have mixed me up with some other poor girl, because I don’t have any family.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Where are you going?”
Nora Belle pulled her hoodie up around her head and face. “Out. I’ll be back.”
The fat slob, Michael, told her he’d like a kiss first, which she knew meant a blow job.
Fuck, she thought, as she headed back over to the couch, where she was always sure to find him if he wasn’t working construction. It was the last thing in the world she wanted to do, but she liked having a place to come home to and food to eat, and it was the price she had to pay.
She didn’t even bother looking at him as she unzipped his pants and got to work. Having his penis in her mouth was like sucking on a rubbery, slimy carrot. Maybe it was time to find someone else to keep a roof over her head. Guys like Michael were a dime a dozen.
“Hey, not so much with the teeth, OK?”
Fucking asshole. She thought about biting his dick right off. She might do it, too, just not this time. When she was done, she went to the kitchen sink and cleaned up, then walked out the door without another word.
The night was chilly. She rubbed her hands together as she made her way through the streets of Sacramento.
An hour had passed by the time she found the Naomi bitch. The woman was tucked away for the night in her red sleeping bag in the doorway of a long-shuttered discount store. Red bag, red hair. When Nora Belle first met her, the woman talked about how she used to be somebody, as if anyone fucking cared. How she went to college and used to have a job with the state.