Deep inside, I knew he was safe for now. There was no tingling on the back of my neck, no intuitive alerts that anything was out of the ordinary. Though, I couldn’t quite quiet the shadow that was creeping its long fingers over my shoulders again.
“Come on, let’s go ask the staff some questions,” Claire said as she opened her door.
The lobby of the building was the picture of decadence. Tall cathedral-like ceilings towered over us, our boots clattered on the marble floor, and art deco-style decorations hung on the walls.
“Huh. Bougie,” Claire said as she snapped her gum. “Can you imagine having money like this?”
“Nope,” I said, looking around. For the first time in a long time, I felt… intimidated. Inadequate. Sure, I had my own stash of money that would last Luke and me for the rest of our days, but nothing compared to this. It made me wonder how much of my persona as a Dom was tied to my wealth.
As soon as the staff began to see us, they walked straighter. More upright. Some of them that had been slacking off snapped back to work.
The police effect sure was fun to watch sometimes.
We questioned the concierge, but he was entirely unhelpful. Then we went to the leasing office and asked the woman inside. She was quite firm that she couldn’t give us any information about any residents without a warrant.
We left empty-handed. I felt vulnerable; I felt weak. Like this predator could do anything from the safety of his gilded nest and I wouldn’t be able to see it coming.
As if reading my thoughts, Claire said, “Don’t worry about Luke, I’ve got him covered.”
“What? You’ve got eyes on him?”
“Yeah. He's fine. I get a ping every five minutes that he’s still in class,” Claire said, holding up her work phone.
“How did you convince the station to spend resources on that? When I asked them, they said there wasn’t enough evidence—”
“I didn’t ask the station. I asked Chua.”
“Friggin’ Chua?!” I exclaimed. “I thought you didn’t like each other.”
“Oh, I like him just fine,” Claire said. “I just… like you more.”
I couldn’t stop my heart from swelling with joy and acceptance.
“Plus, Chua owes me a favor. All those days you were stuck inside doing paperwork, we drove all the way into Jersey to patrol the most boring area, just so we could be near his favorite Applebees. You believe that?”
“But they all taste the same.”
“That’s what I said! But he was insistent that this one used a different kind of butta’ to cook their food. So we had to go to it every day for lunch. I swear that guy has Aspergers or somethin’…”
As we were talking, another message bloomed on her screen from Chua.
“Still in class.”
Claire showed me the message. “See? Your fiancee is safe.”
Relief flooded through me. “Thank you, Claire. You have no idea how much that puts my mind at ease.”
She chuckled. “No problem, Big Guy. You’re part of the NYPD family now, and we take care of our family.”
Family. Maybe that’s why this felt so good; maybe that’s why this act of kindness from Claire was so fulfilling. I’d been missing that feeling of family — that feeling of people looking out for each other no matter what.
I glanced at the small brunette woman bouncing next to me as we walked down the sidewalk, and suddenly I was kicking myself for ever not liking her.
She was amazing.
She stopped in her tracks next to the mouth of an alleyway. “I just thought of something!”
Claire hurried past me into the alley behind the bougie building.
“Where are you going?”
“Service elevator,” she explained, weaving between a few parked trucks.
I could see that there were grunts heavy-lifting furniture. Someone was moving in.
A grin lifted the corners of my mouth.
“Hey guys,” she greeted happily.
The two movers she was approaching nearly dropped the couch they were carrying.
No one liked being surprised by a cop.
“Chill,” she said, smacking her gum. “Me and my partner here are just taking a look around.”
“This is a private residence,” the hulking man on the right said. “You need a warrant to step anywhere in here,” he gestured to the building’s garage.
Claire held her hands up with her fingers splayed. “I gotcha, boys. This alley is city property though, so we’re just going to take a look around.”
I followed Claire through the alleyway where she began to examine the backs of the trucks. Several of the gates were open.
“Claire, what are you looking for?” I asked in a whisper.
“Any weird-shaped packages with a number on 'em,” she said, pulling out her notepad. “You’ll notice every box has a number on it. That’s the unit number. And if this guy’s a Rigger, there’s a chance he’s got something custom coming for him. If he’s anything like you described, trying to act like he’s extravagant and gentlemanly, he probably gets big furniture. Especially when there’s someone he’s planning to impress.”
A sinking feeling settled in my stomach. From the testimony we got from the Luke lookalike we found restrained on that bed, the killer never showed his face. What he did show his victims was extravagance. He locked them in what looked like a five-star hotel suite for days or weeks, completely cutting them off from human contact. He’d get meals delivered to their rooms — five-course dinners. That would drug them. Then they’d wake up and there would be some kind of weird equipment there. Since the Luke look-a-like refused to get into it, the killer tried to sell him into the sex
