Thrill Kill (Matt Sinclair #2) - Brian Thiem Page 0,40

cell phone balanced between her neck and shoulder, Archard wrote on a legal pad: No warrants, no arrest record CA or NCIC. She slid the pad to Cummings, who was studying a screen filled with hundreds of numbers. He wrote a social security number on the pad followed by Occupation Interior Decorator Associate. Last year gross $53,382. Deductions: interest on college loan, total outstanding $84,000. No other claimed income. Previous year gross $46,108.

Sinclair turned his attention back to the interview on the other laptop where Roberts was still questioning Danielle.

Roberts asked, “How long have you been doing this?”

“This is my first time,” Danielle said. “Really.”

Fifteen minutes later, she finally admitted she had worked for the escort agency for six months, normally about two nights a week. Sometimes she did up to three calls a night, but most of the time, only one. She made 60 percent of the agency fee, which came out to $240 per call.

Danielle laid out the rest of the financials to Roberts. “If the customer wants a second hour, it’s three hundred and I keep seventy percent. I also keep tips. Most clients tip fifty or so.”

“How’d you get started?” Roberts asked.

“A friend I knew from a club in San Francisco introduced me to a recruiter for the escort service. I can’t remember her name, but she interviewed me and got me set up.”

“Who else have you met at the agency?” Roberts asked.

“No one other than some other escorts when we did parties or a client wanted a threesome.”

“Twenty-three minutes,” Archard said, snapping Sinclair’s attention from the interview back to their room.

“I’m going in,” Cummings said. “Roberts will never get her to roll in time.”

“I should come with you.” Archard looked at Cummings and started to rise from her chair.

“We’ll stick with Braddock,” Cummings said. “You remain here on the computers.”

Archard bit her lip and turned her focus back to the monitor.

Sinclair felt useless. His job was already done. Cummings walked out of the command post with his laptop in his hand and a moment later appeared on the computer screen behind Danielle. After some whispering between Cummings and Roberts, Roberts got up from his chair and Cummings sat down.

“You apparently don’t know how serious this is,” Cummings said to Danielle. “With the video we have, you could be a porn star.”

Cummings slid his laptop in front of Danielle and played back the recorded video showing the back-and-forth conversation that Sinclair and Danielle had just prior to her undressing.

Sinclair heard the door open behind him as Roberts entered the command post.

“You did a great job in there, Matt,” Roberts said.

“Wasn’t much to it,” Sinclair said. “She wasted no time getting down to business.”

Roberts pulled a chair alongside Sinclair and Archard and watched Cummings interview Danielle on the computer monitor. She was crying and near hysterics as Cummings told her she was going to jail for prostitution and that he doubted her employer, a respected interior design firm, would keep her on the payroll. He said the newspapers might print her name, which would surely ruin her professionally.

“What will your family think?” Cummings said. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Do you have a boyfriend? If so, you won’t after this gets out.”

She continued to cry. Sinclair saw Braddock’s hand appear on the screen with several tissues. Danielle wiped her nose and eyes, leaving black smudges on her face. “What happened to Carlos?” Danielle asked. “Is he under arrest, too?”

“You need to worry about yourself, young lady,” Cummings said.

“He’s a nice guy with a good job,” Danielle said. “Don’t ruin him, too.”

“Danielle, he’s one of us,” Braddock said. “He was just doing his job.”

“No. He can’t be a cop. He was too sweet.”

“Fourteen minutes,” Archard said.

“What’s with the countdown?” Sinclair asked.

“When she got to your room and confirmed your ID, she sent a text to the agency,” Roberts said. “She then has an hour to tell them she’s out and okay. If she doesn’t, the agency will try to contact her. If they can’t, they send someone—normally a huge, bouncer kind of guy—to investigate.”

“In other words, we have fourteen minutes to turn her,” Sinclair said.

“Thirteen,” Archard said.

“Any report from San Jose PD?” Roberts asked.

“They struck out,” Archard said. “Their escort was an old pro and walked out. They don’t know if she made their undercover or if something just didn’t feel right to her.”

“So it’s up to us,” Sinclair said. “Let me level with her.”

“Absolutely not,” Archard said. “Undercovers don’t interview suspects. And we can’t level