Thrill Kill (Matt Sinclair #2) - Brian Thiem Page 0,41
with her. If she doesn’t flip, she’ll go back to the agency and spill everything.”
“Cummings isn’t going to get her to roll by acting like a hard-ass. Braddock and I can get her to cooperate.”
“We’ll do it our way,” Archard said. “This is our case.”
“The hell it is.” Sinclair scooped up Danielle’s purse and barged out the door. Roberts followed but didn’t try to stop him. He entered the other room and made his way through the bedroom to the table in the living room.
“What are you doing here?” Cummings said. “Get out!”
“I’m taking over,” Sinclair said.
“We have jurisdiction on this case.”
“It’s a local arrest,” Sinclair said. “Danielle’s our detainee. You don’t even have a federal crime you can arrest her on.”
Cummings’s face turned red in anger. “You’re making a huge mistake, Sinclair.”
Sinclair looked at his watch. “Nine minutes,” he said.
“Let him try,” Roberts said to Cummings. “We have nothing to lose.”
Cummings slammed his chair against the wall as he got up. He stormed around the table and stopped when his face was inches from Sinclair’s. “If you so much as hint to her about an IRS investigation, I’ll have your job,” he whispered.
Sinclair met his stare but said nothing. He took a deep breath, moved the chair back to the table, and sat down. He smiled at Danielle. “I’m sorry I had to deceive you. My real name is Matt Sinclair, and I’m a detective with Oakland PD.”
She sniffled and wiped her nose with a tissue. “I trusted you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. You seem like a really nice girl. Someone I’d like to get to know if we met under different circumstances. I can only imagine how hard it is trying to live in the city on your salary—paying rent, paying off your school loans. I don’t blame you for what you do.”
“It was easy money. I could make more in one night than I made in a week at my regular job. No one gets hurt. I never did anything dangerous or degrading.”
“I understand,” Sinclair said. “Did you know Dawn Gustafson?”
“The girl killed in Oakland? I heard about it.”
“She worked for the same escort agency as you do.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Sinclair pulled Cummings’s laptop in front of him, brought up Special Ladies Escorts website, and scrolled down until he came to Dawn’s photo. He turned it around to face Danielle. “She was known as Blondie here, but her real name was Dawn.”
“Oh my god!”
“I tried to get someone from your agency to talk to me about her, but no one would. I suspect it might’ve been one of her clients who killed her.”
“Oh my god,” Danielle said again.
“We know the owner is Helena Decker. The only way she’ll open up her client files is if I force her to. I’m sorry for putting you in the middle, but we need to catch this killer. Not only for Dawn, but also to protect other women like you.”
Danielle sat there mulling over her situation. A timer tone sounded from inside her handbag. Sinclair looked at his watch. The hour was up.
“But how can I help?”
“First you need to buy us some time to talk some more. What happens if you don’t check in?”
“I need to text within a minute that I’m out or that the client wants another hour.”
“Can you say I want another hour?”
“Cash or credit card?” she asked.
Sinclair removed his wallet and pulled out three hundred-dollar bills.
“One more,” she said.
He handed her another hundred, fished her phone out of her purse, and handed it to her. He leaned over her shoulder and watched as she texted: I’m fine. Carlos wants another hour. Just gave me 100 tip and 300 cash for 2nd hour.
A moment later, the reply came: OK. Check in again when you’re out.
Sinclair sat back in the chair, clasped his hands behind his neck, and stretched.
Danielle set her phone on the table. “If I help you, you won’t arrest me?”
“No,” Sinclair said. “All I’m after is the man who killed Dawn.”
“And you’re not going to let me keep this?” she said, fingering the money in front of her.
Sinclair laughed. “I’m afraid not.”
Over the next half hour, Danielle told them how the escort service worked while she ate the remainder of Sinclair’s pizza. She identified a photo of Helena Decker and said she was the woman who hired her. Since most clients paid by credit card, Helena would direct deposit her cut into her checking account every other week. If some paid cash, Helena would take her