“It’s sort of fun being connected to the world,” Kitally told him. “You can play games with your friends in another country if you wanted to.”
“It’s nothing more than a tracking device. They’re watching you. Right now. Everyone knows what you’re doing.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Kitally asked him, trying to change the subject. “You do have one, don’t you?”
“We’re going to use the oldest trick in the book.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to distract them while you run into the room where they keep the files and get whatever it is you need.”
Kitally walked ahead and opened the door for him. “We need to talk to Betty first,” she said as he walked inside without so much as a grunt or a dirty look. “She’s the one who needs to tell me what exactly I’m looking for.”
“Fine. We’ll get the old badger first, but if she starts flirting with me, I’m gonna have to put a stop to it. All the old ladies in this joint like to follow me around as if they’ve never seen a man before.”
“Well, you are an incredibly charming man,” Kitally said.
“Is that sarcasm I’m noting?”
“Are you kidding me? If I were thirty years older, I’d be chasing after you myself.”
He chuckled at that.
Kitally followed him inside and let the door swing shut behind her.
Two hours after Hayley had called Lizzy with the news that they had video images of Wayne Bennett assaulting and sexually abusing a young woman, Lizzy walked into the office of Prosecuting Attorney Grady Orwell.
The man was short, with fiery-orange hair. His suit was wrinkled and his face was pale, probably due to too many hours behind a desk.
Grady shook Lizzy’s hand with a strong grip, then gestured for her to take a seat in the leather chair in front of his desk.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”
“Not a problem,” Grady said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. When I was told you had some damning evidence against Wayne Bennett, you can bet I was interested to see what you had.”
“You sound passionate about this case,” Lizzy said.
“And you sound surprised.”
“I guess I am. Bennett has managed to get a lot of very important people in Sacramento to side with him. I thought maybe you might be one of them.”
“I think it’s safe to say I was as pissed off as you were when I got the news that the bastard was released on some absurd technicality.”
Lizzy decided she liked Grady Orwell. “Let’s get to it, then.” She handed him a file along with a flash drive. Then she set up her laptop on his desk and played the video.
Together they watched Wayne Bennett drug a young woman and ruin yet another person’s life. After the screen went black, Grady leaned back in his chair and took a quiet moment to think about what he’d just seen. “I’ve talked to a lot of people who dislike Wayne Bennett for one reason or another,” he said matter-of-factly. “I knew what he was capable of, but seeing him in action leaves an extremely bad taste in my mouth. Do you know the name of the young woman in the tape?”
“I do. It’s all in the file.”
“I am assuming you obtained this video illegally.”
“The file was left at my doorstep, and so, of course, I have no way of knowing how the video was obtained or who is responsible.”
“Of course.”
“My plan,” Lizzy went on, “is to make contact with the woman in the video and see if she’s willing to appear in court and swear before the judge. I have no plans to tell her about the tape.”
“I do need testimony to build my case,” he said approvingly.
“If you look in the file, you’ll see a handwritten declaration signed by Olimpia Padula, another young woman who was assaulted by Bennett. Not only is she willing to tell her story in front of a jury, she’s eager to do so.”
Grady opened the file and read through the woman’s statement. “This is good. We both know the judge will rule out the use of the taped video as ‘tainted’ and therefore inadmissible in court, but I’m going to show it to the judge anyhow. It won’t hurt for him to see Wayne Bennett as the monster he truly is. But this,” he said, tapping Olimpia Padula’s declaration, “is a gold mine.”
“Is there any way you can persuade the judge to place Olimpia Padula in some sort of protection program to prevent possible retaliation or further intimidation?”
“Not a chance.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Lizzy gathered her things, including her laptop, and then stood and looked Grady square in the eyes. “He must be stopped.”
“You’re preaching to the choir. I’ve been working to put Bennett away for years.”
“At the very least, he should be arrested and locked up for threatening witnesses.”
“I agree.”
“But your hands have been tied,” Lizzy stated.
“I think you know why.”
“He’s bribing the whole lot of them.”
Grady Orwell’s silence said it all. He thanked Lizzy and walked her to the door. “We’ll get him eventually. In the end, good will triumph. It always does.”
“You believe that?”
He didn’t answer, but before Lizzy could disappear completely, he called her name.
She stopped and turned his way. “What is it?”
“Don’t stop.”
She lifted a questioning brow.
“Don’t stop looking. Don’t stop pushing. If we’re ever going to get this guy, it’s going to be because you never stopped pushing for answers. Just don’t stop.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Claire woke to the sound of a woman’s voice. At first she thought she was hearing things, but then she heard it again. Someone was there, and they were calling out, asking if anyone was home.
“I’m in here!” Claire said, her voice raspy and hoarse. “I’m down here! Please let me out!” It was no use. They would never hear her. She grabbed the piece of wood she had finally dislodged from the wine rack last night and used it, along with her fists, to pound on the door.
It felt like forever before the metal slot creaked open. The eyes looking through the opening did not belong to the lunatic who had brought her here.
“Who’s in there?”
“It’s Claire Kerley. Help me, please. Get me out of here.”
“Why are you in there?”
“I’ve been kidnapped,” she said, her voice struggling to be heard. “I want out! Please!”
Claire saw the doorknob moving. Her breathing quickened at the thought of escaping. “There’s a key somewhere in that room,” Claire said, her body pressed against the door. “Maybe on the ledge above the door.”
“It’s not there. Let me check—oh, here it is, on a hook. I found it!”
Claire stepped back.
The door opened. A stream of light spilled in through a tiny window at the bottom of the stairs.
The woman entered the wine cellar and staggered back, gagging at the smell. Her gaze fell on all the bruises covering Claire’s legs and arms. She wore a dirty T-shirt and nothing else. “What is going on? Did Zachary do this to you?”
“I don’t know what his name is, but he’s crazy and we need to get out of here!”
Claire pushed past the woman and made her way to the stairs. Her legs wobbled, forcing her to use the wall for support. “Get out of here while you can,” Claire told the woman as she made her way up the stairs. “He could be back any minute now.”
Confused, the woman heeded her advice and followed close behind.
As soon as Claire made it to the landing, the front door opened.
He’s home.