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“I recognize the names from the news. You’ve got a vicious killer to contend with, Agent Granger.”
“Can we come in?” he asked.
“No. No, I see no reason for that, and I have an appointment to which I’m going to be late.”
“Would it be to set up a dark fantasy?” Violet asked in her sultry yet cool tone. “The kind where women dress as young girls so sick pedophiles can get their thrills? Maybe an old man needs a good spanking for being bad. I can go on.”
Please don’t.
“It’s vivid,” he said with smugness. “I’ll give you that. But I run a commercial real estate business. I specialize in beach properties. Not fantasy land. I pay my taxes and give to the poor. So good luck finding anything revolving around niche fetishes and myself.”
Interesting way to interpret the business. Swain wasn’t going to give them squat. Time to change tactics before Violet went all wiggy-jiggy.
“Here’s the deal. We don’t care about your side business. It’s consensual for both parties. But Lily Hayes and Amy-Rose Rydell have been brutalized and murdered. One of your clients might be a serial killer who wanted more than a night of role-playing. He could have taken it too far. He’s going to do it again. Do you want a man like that for a client?” Would Swain take the bait, admit to the dark business so they could start building a case and possibly get a warrant to search his house based on Ethan Lantrip’s confession?
Swain’s jaw ticked. “I wish I could help you. You have a real conundrum here.”
“Yes, I’ll admit murder is a conundrum,” Ty said.
Swain checked his watch as if bored with the conversation. “I don’t know those women. I don’t dabble in the dark affairs of men. Where are you getting this rubbish from?”
“Ethan Lantrip. You may know him as Skipper. He gives rides from the mainland to your beach house. And he tells a tale about a woman named Jenny Davis. Know her?”
“I can’t say that I do.”
Can’t or won’t? Cunning flashed behind his eyes. Ty’s gut screamed Swain was dirty up to his cow-patty-colored eyeballs. “Well, Ethan says you do. So you see how we have a new...conundrum.”
“You certainly do.”
Ty ground his jaw. He didn’t want to lose his grip and say something he and the team would regret later. “You’re saying that Jenny Davis never darkened the door of your home?”
He brushed the fancy lapels on his suit. “She did not. I have no idea why this Skipper person would come to you with lies, but if you need anything further, you’ll need to contact my attorneys. Yes, attorneys, plural. Good day.” He locked his door and sliced between them to his sports car. Revved the engine and backed out without casting them a single glance.
Ty and Violet climbed inside the SUV. “I hate him. Also his voice sounds like Crunk from that Disney movie about the groovy emperor.”
“It’s The Emperor’s New Groove, and his name is Kronk. Why can’t you get your Disney movie names together? Remember the humpback of Notre Dame?” Violet rolled her eyes, then batted an invisible mosquito—or maybe she was attempting to bat away Ty. A metaphor for his annoyance. “Let Selah do her thing. He knows we know. He’s going to react. Probably need to see about extra protection on Ethan Lantrip. He knows we only have Ethan’s word. No hard proof or we’d have arrested him.”
“We could get a dive team out to see if they can recover remains.”
“By now she’s been washed out to sea and deteriorated. We can check if she’s been reported missing. That’s a good start.”
Patrick Swain was a rich entitled tool and reminded him of his father or any other high-ranking member of the Family. “What’s your first impression of him?”
“Past his striking good looks, he believes he’s untouchable, and that means he’s covered his tracks well. But he’s never met Selah, and if there’s a speck of dirt, she’ll uncover it. I also think he’s a sexual deviant. I don’t believe everything that transpires in this house is consensual, which is how Jenny Davis may have ended up dead.”
Ty leaned in that direction too. Patrick Swain felt familiar to him. Could be the resemblance in personality to Rand Granger. Could be something else. He pulled onto the main road.
Violet’s phone rang. “It’s Selah.” She answered. “You’re on Speaker, Selah. Ty’s with me.”
“Hey. So yeah. Okay.”
“Are you trying to tell us something, or are you having a stroke?” Violet asked in her dry, unamused way. She wasn’t one to waste time or mince words.
“I found something on Lily Hayes.”
“Nothing on Patrick Swain to connect him to the allegations Skipper made?” Violet asked.
“Nothing yet, but give me two full hours already, Violet. Lily didn’t have any tattoos in the photos on her social media accounts, but I’ve been combing the iCloud for photos taken of her that were set to public.”
