So Cruel, page 10
“Well, I’m coming up empty with Bethany Cole,” Michael said, “so this is as good a place to start as any.”
“Perfect. Let’s grab Turk and go talk to Mr. Warner.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lila had had just about enough of that stupid show about advertising that kept winning all the awards. The damned show had ended years ago, but every time she went out with someone, all they could do was ask if she’d seen it. Was it accurate, were men really assholes to women in the industry, was sex the only way she could get ahead, yadda yadda bullshit.
The only silver lining was the naked disappointment on her date’s face when she revealed that most of her job consisted of writing hundreds of different taglines and assembling dozens of different collages of stock photographs to attach to those taglines, then spending countless hours testing various combinations of the most promising photos and taglines with focus groups. It never ceased to amaze her how surprised people were to find out that her advertising job was actually a job and not some Hollywood dream world.
Why did she get this degree anyway? Oh yeah. Because she thought this would be some Hollywood dream world.
Ha.
It would almost be easier if the men at her job were misogynistic assholes. Then, she could at least have something to contribute to her endless series of failed first dates. Unfortunately for all of her drama-loving dates, the men at her office were perfectly ordinary people who wanted to work forty hours a week and earn a living and didn't particularly care if their coworkers were men, women or chimpanzees as long as they could be relied on not to make their own jobs harder.
Maybe she should just give up on dating for a while. It wasn’t like she needed a boyfriend. She’d done just fine without ever since she graduated college. All boyfriends were good for was sex, and most of them weren’t very good at that. It would be one less headache to deal with.
She reached home and headed straight for the shower like she always did. There was nothing to release the stress of a long workday like a hot, relaxing shower.
To be fair, today’s workday wasn’t that long. She had left early to go on her date. The date wasn’t that long either. Charlie Berkowitz had lasted a grand total of fifty-two minutes before Lila managed to manufacture an excuse about an emergency with a marketing project that required her immediate attention. Then she had given Charlie a fake number that would lead to a call center that sold subscriptions to a boating magazine and headed home. She felt a little guilty about that, but the last time she had been honest about her lack of attraction to a guy, he had spent thirty hellishly awkward minutes trying to convince her to give him a second chance.
She reached the shower and sighed with relief as the warm water cascaded over her skin. This was better than any boyfriend. She had the house to herself, and she could use as much hot water as she wanted. When she was done, she could wear her ugly but super comfortable PJs, drink sparkling wine, eat ice cream and watch as many romcoms as she wanted.
This was the life.
She stayed in the shower until the warm water grew tepid, then shut the water off and stepped out. She spent a while blow drying, allowing the warm jet of air to dry her body as well as her hair. Then she dressed in her PJs and sighed contentedly.
I get why Aunt Mimi never married.
Deep down, she knew that her fixation on the subject was due to frustration and loneliness, but she didn't dwell on it. Who had time for that? So, things hadn't worked out for her in the romance department yet. She would get there eventually. There was no need to rush.
She fixed herself a dinner of microwaved pasta and meatballs and poured a glass of sparkling wine from a bottle that cost barely more than the microwave meal.
“And that, my friends, is how you live on a budget.”
She giggled and pranced to the TV, where she started the first of the two or three romcoms she would watch. This one was an old favorite about a girl who was a bridesmaid to over two dozen of her friends but could never seem to find the right guy for herself.
“Hey, at least you got to attend someone’s wedding,” she said to herself, taking a healthy sip of wine.
She was about to indulge in a second sip of alcohol when she saw her doorknob start to jiggle.
Her blood froze instantly. She spent an instant marveling at how suddenly and how completely a good feeling could vanish. Then a soft click drove all speculation away, and she was left with only fear.
She wished to hell she hadn’t turned the tv on. If the tv wasn’t making noise, she could have pretended no one was home. It occurred to her an instant later how absurd that thought was. Whoever was at her door was trying to break in. They would break in whether anyone was home or not.
She dimly recalled reading something online about what you were supposed to do if someone was trying to break into your house, but she couldn’t remember a single word of what she read. She didn’t have a gun or a baseball bat or a taser or mace. She had kitchen knives, but she didn’t know if she could really stab someone, even to save her life.
And anyway, it didn’t matter because she couldn’t even bring herself to fucking move. She just sat on the couch, a plate of microwaved pasta in one hand and a glass of six-dollar prosecco in the other.
This was where a boyfriend would have come in handy. He could go scare off the intruder while she huddled safely on the couch. She knew that thought was absurd, but all of her thoughts were absurd right now. Oh my God, someone was breaking into her house!
Nine one one. That's what you're supposed to do, right? Call nine one one?
She reached for her phone, and that’s when the door swung open. In keeping with the absurdity of the evening, Lila’s first thought was that the man was handsome as hell, and if he’d been polite to her, she would have invited him in.
Her second thought was that she was almost certainly going to die. She opened her mouth to scream, and before she could, a hand clamped shut over it. She felt a prick in the side of her neck, and almost instantly, the world began to swim around her.
He’s going to drug me first so I can be alive when he assaults me, she thought.
She made one last attempt to struggle free. Then the world faded to black.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Faith and Michael were ten minutes from Derek Warner’s house when the police called them.
“Hey, we just got a request for a welfare check on a woman in West Philadelphia. Neighbors reported suspicious activity outside of a rowhouse on Locust Street. A man looked to be trying to break into the house.”
Faith and Michael shared a look. This could be their killer, or it could be an unrelated crime. Theft was common in the drug-ridden neighborhood of West Philadelphia. They had a solid lead now, and Faith didn’t want to abandon it unless they were sure this was related to them. “Are you sure this has something to do with our case?”
“Well, the woman in question works for Heritage Advertising. They handled PR for Heartland Pets following the puppy mill scandal. They’re also tied to several other designer dog breeders. We’re not a hundred percent sure, but the victim fits your profile: single woman in her thirties who lives alone and has no close friends.”
“Have you reached the residence?”
“We have. The victim is missing, and there are signs of a struggle.”
Faith’s eyes widened. She was grateful Michael was driving because she wasn’t paying any attention at all to the road anymore. “You’re saying that the victim was taken from the house?”
“Yes.”
That didn't fit with their MO. A lot of this didn't fit, actually. It was late afternoon, but still light outside. The victim was kidnapped, not murdered. On the surface, it seemed unrelated.
But she fit their profile, and she worked for an advertising firm with ties to at least one of the businesses they had investigated. Faith muted her phone and looked at Michael. “What do you think?”
He thought a moment, then said, “I think I’d rather get a look at the place before the police trample all over the evidence. If there was a struggle, and if this was our guy, then he might have left behind more evidence than before. It’s a long shot, but I say we take it.”
Faith hesitated a moment, but she couldn’t think of a good reason not to agree. She unmuted her phone and said, “All right. Send us the address. We’re on our way.”
***
The rowhouse in question was a new build and somewhat nicer than the neighboring houses. Police were outside with the next-door neighbor when the three federal agents arrived. Turk immediately bounded for the open door of the victim’s house, and Faith let him run. If he thought he smelled something, then they really might be on the trail of their killer.
Faith and Michael approached the officers talking to the neighbor, an old, white-haired man who said he caught a younger man breaking into his neighbor’s house.
“I didn’t get a good look at him, but I knew he was up to no good. He had one of those lockpicking screwdrivers, and he was kneeling right in front of the lock. If I was fifty years younger, I would have said something to him, but he was a big guy, and I’m old as hell now. I called you instead.”
“How long ago did you call?” Faith asked, jumping into the conversation.
“Who’re you?” the witness asked.
Faith quickly introduced herself and Michael and asked again, “How long ago did you notice this man?”
“Well… Maybe forty-five minutes to an hour. I don’t know exactly.”
“Can you describe the man who broke into your neighbor’s house?”
The witness shook his head. “He was tall, and he was white, but that’s all I could tell. He had baggy clothes on, so I couldn’t tell how big he was, and I didn’t get close enough to find out.”
“Did you hear screaming from the house?”
“No. I ran inside to call nine-one-one, and when I came back out, the door was open, and no one was home.”
“Did you notice the suspect’s vehicle?” Michael asked.
"No, I didn't see anything. People park their cars along the road all the time. I don't know whose car belongs to who. I'm really sorry. I would've done more if I could."
“That’s all right, sir,” the responding police officer said. “You’re not obligated to put your own life in danger.”
Faith knew the officer was right, but it was still irritating that the witness had been so close to their killer and learned almost nothing helpful. She turned to the officer. “Start a search for the victim. Put an APB out and be aggressive about it. I’d rather inconvenience a thousand people to catch this guy than lose him because we’re afraid to offend anyone.”
While the officer did that, Faith and Michael joined Turk inside the house. The struggle was evident here but seemed to be limited to the living room. A glass coffee table was smashed, and splinters lay strewn about the floor along with the remains of a wineglass. A plate of pasta lay overturned next to the couch, and a few drops of blood on the floor indicated that someone had been injured.
“Grab a sample of that blood,” Faith said. “It might be from our killer.”
“Way ahead of you,” Michael said, stooping down and pulling on a pair of gloves.
"Turk? Do you have anything?"
Turk looked up and barked confidently, then ran out the door. Faith followed him as he ran to the sidewalk and stopped at a portion of the curb that was now occupied by Michael's car. Apparently, they had parked exactly where their killer had.
Faith jogged over to the neighbor and asked, “Do you know what vehicle was parked there before we arrived?”
The old man’s shoulders sagged, and he shook his head glumly.
“That’s all right,” Faith said, hiding her disappointment. “If you remember anything, holler at me. Officer? Which of you called my partner and I?”
“That would be me,” the officer replied. “Detective Joel Rockhold.”
The officer extended his hand. Faith took it, then said, “I want to talk to you privately. Can you release your witness yet?”
Joel nodded. “Sir, you’re free to go. Like the Special Agent said, please call if you think of anything else.”
The neighbor nodded and said, “I hope she’s all right. She seemed like a good kid.”
“We’ll do everything we can, sir,” Joel promised.
Faith led the officer inside, where Michael was busy taking photographs of the scene. "Michael, this is the officer who called us. Are you done taking pictures, or do you need more?"
“No, I’m done.”
“Good. Join us, please.”
The three of them sat at the kitchen table, and Faith launched right in. “Let’s start with a name. Who are we looking for?”
“Lila Sanders. Thirty years old, five-foot-seven, one hundred twenty-five pounds, brown eyes, brown hair. She’s the lead advertising consultant for Heritage.”
“You mentioned she had ties to Heartland and other puppy mills.”
“Yes. Heritage was incriminated in the multi-agency investigation into illegal activities among designer dog breeders last year. It was alleged that Heritage knew of Heartland’s illegal activities and helped cover for the company and mislead its customers. Lila Sanders, as lead consultant, was named representative of the company in the ensuing investigation.”
“I’m guessing that Heritage was acquitted of wrongdoing.”
“Yes. It was determined that the advertising firm was unaware of its client’s illegal activities.”
“How can that be true if Heartland was in the middle of being investigated?”
Joel sighed. “The department’s belief is that Heritage intentionally refused to look for answers to complicated questions and insisted that Heartland share only what was absolutely necessary for them to know to perform their duty to their client. So we’re sure they knew, but they managed to keep themselves from being implicated in a crime.”
“Who were the plaintiffs in that case?” Michael asked.
“The State of Pennsylvania. The complaint was originally brought forth by the State Attorney General. Heartland had refused to cooperate with state inspectors on numerous occasions.”
"Were any charges brought against Heritage, or was the case dropped before it went to trial?"
“The case against Heartland proceeded, but Heritage was dropped as a defendant. They continued working with Heartland throughout and after the case, though, so my personal opinion is that they were aware of everything the entire time.”
“Why stay involved, though?” Michael asked. “Advertising firms rely on their reputation. Remaining affiliated with a company accused of animal abuse is a quick way to lose that reputation.”
“That’s why we believe they were so invested in covering it up. They clearly knew enough that if Heartland was in trouble, they felt they risked significant legal trouble themselves. We tried to convince our superiors to continue to pursue the case, but when the DA reached a settlement with Heartland, we were asked to discontinue our investigation.”
Pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place for Faith. If only she could be sure she was solving the right puzzle.
Well, it was the only puzzle she had right now.
“Detective, I want a list of the principals of the legal action against Heritage and Heartland last year, both on the side of the state and on the side of the businesses.”
“You think someone’s getting revenge?”
“It’s too soon for me to tell,” she replied, “but I think this case is related to that scandal. Our victims all have some connection to scandals involving puppy mills. It’s almost certain that our killer’s motivation is related to that.”
Joel nodded. “I’ll get you a list.”
While he made the phone call, Faith conferred with Michael. “What do you think?”
“I don’t like it,” he said. “It throws our MO under the bus. If this is the killer, then he’s changed drastically.”
“He’s escalated,” Faith replied. “He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed a new victim, and when he was confronted by the neighbor, he got spooked and took her instead of killing her here.”
“So where’s he taking her? Home?”
“Probably, unless he owns another property. He’ll want to finish the job, but right now, he’s more concerned with not getting caught. She has some time. Not much, but enough that we might be able to save her if we can get to her in time.”
“How do we do that?”
“That, Michael, is the million-dollar question.”
While they waited for Detective Rockhold to return, Faith looked through Lila’s personal computer. Lila had a fairly standard firewall, and Faith was able to crack it within ten minutes using tricks she had learned from acquaintances in Cybercrimes.
The majority of the information saved on the laptop was mundane and unhelpful. There were terabytes of stock images stored on hard drives and numerous word documents with different tagline ideas organized by clients. It looked very much like a typical marketing consultant’s computer.
When scouring the documents and images on the computer proved tedious and unlikely to yield anything, Faith turned her attention to emails.
Most of the emails were completely innocuous and had to do only with aboveboard business, but when Faith worked her way back to a month before the Heartland scandal, she began to encounter suspicious emails between Lila and a sender identified only as H.
Those emails provided the proof Joel needed that Heritage was knowingly covering up illegal activities. Not only was Heritage covering up illegal activities, but Lila was actively involved in the coverup. There were several emails where Lila instructed H to destroy certain documents, detailing exactly how to destroy them without raising suspicion. H, for their part, shared disturbingly personal details about employees of Heartland that they feared could incriminate the company if allowed to speak to the police.
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