Finn snapped his fingers as another thought occurred to him. “And we already know that Rivera likes to beat people. Silvio and I did tons of background on him. We both saw the police reports of all those girlfriends and servants he put into the hospital. Murder wouldn’t be too much of a stretch from that.”
I thought back to when I’d spied on Damian Rivera at his mansion. Hugh Tucker had shown up and told Rivera to take care of some problem before the Circle took action against him. What if that problem was Rivera being the Dollmaker?
According to what Tucker had told me, the Circle had eyes and ears everywhere, and I had no doubt that some of those spies were in the police department. Maybe someone had tipped off Tucker about Ryan, Bria, and Xavier’s investigation. Brutally beating and strangling a dozen women—and probably more that we didn’t know about—and leaving their bodies strewn all over Ashland was sure to attract unwanted attention sooner or later. And the members of the Circle prided themselves on their anonymity, on the fact that very few people knew that the group even existed. The hunt for a serial killer—especially one of their own members—could potentially shine all sorts of light on their shadowy operations, something that they would want to avoid at all costs, even if it meant getting rid of Rivera themselves.
Something about that last thought nagged at me, something about Rivera, Tucker, and the Circle. Something about Rivera taunting Tucker about his low status within the group. Something about Tucker’s mysterious boss and how he gave all of them their marching orders. But I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was . . .
“It’s Rivera,” Owen said. “It has to be. There are just too many things that add up and point right to him.”
My thought, whatever it had been, vanished back down into the bottom of my brain. Besides, it wasn’t important right now. Finding Elissa was the only thing that mattered. After she was safe, then I would properly deal with Damien Rivera and ask him all my many, many questions about the Circle.
Jade’s hands balled into fists, and rage sparked in her eyes. “Where does he live? Where is he holding Elissa?”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’re going to pay him a visit and find out.”
21
As much as we all wanted to immediately drive over to Damian Rivera’s mansion, storm inside, and confront him, we all knew that we had to be smart about this.
For Elissa’s sake.
If Rivera realized that we were onto him, if he thought that we had any clue as to what he’d done to all those women, he could easily kill Elissa, hightail it out of Ashland, and vanish. He had more than enough money and connections to disappear and live out his days on some remote tropical island, never to be seen or heard from again. None of us wanted that to happen, but we all realized that we were up against a ticking clock. All of his men were dead, and when they didn’t report back to him in an hour or two, Rivera would probably realize that they weren’t coming back at all, and he would act accordingly. We needed to be in position to rescue Elissa before that happened.
We trooped into the kitchen and gathered around the table there so that we could all have a seat and brainstorm together. Finn and Silvio called up all the information that they’d compiled on Rivera, swiping through screen after screen on their phones, trying to pinpoint exactly where he might be holding Elissa.
“He has properties all over the city, thanks to his dead mama’s real-estate business,” Finn said. “And these are just the ones that are officially on file. He could have more buildings off the books or under another name or company that we don’t even know about.”
“Finn’s right.” Silvio shook his head. “Elissa could be in any one of a dozen locations.”
I stood up and started pacing around the kitchen, much the same way Jade had done earlier, trying to remember every little detail of Rivera and Tucker’s conversation the other night. One of them had said something about a guest . . . a woman . . .
I stopped. No, not them, Bruce Porter. The dwarf was the one who mentioned that he’d set up Rivera’s “guest” in his bedroom. What if he’d been talking about Elissa? That meant that she’d been at Rivera’s mansion that night, and she might still be there right now.
“Forget about his other properties,” I said. “Let’s focus on the mansion.”
I told the others my theory.
“That’s kind of a slim thread to follow,” Ryan said. “Do you really think that Rivera would be stupid enough to keep all the women he kidnaps and murders in his main residence? That wouldn’t exactly fit in with how careful he’s been about not leaving any evidence behind.”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Think about it. Damian Rivera is a mean, arrogant drunk. He thinks that he can do whatever he wants and that no one can touch him just because he’s a member of the Circle. Besides, he’s gone to a lot of trouble to kidnap all these women, hold them hostage, and make them perform in whatever sadistic fantasy he’s dreamed up. He wouldn’t want to risk stashing them someplace where he couldn’t get to them in a hurry. He’ll have Elissa somewhere close by, just like he probably had all the others close by. The mansion’s our best bet.”
The others agreed, and we moved on to exactly how we were going to get close enough to slip inside the mansion. If it had been anywhere close to dark, I would have gone in by myself, just like I had two nights ago. But it was three in the afternoon, which meant that there was still plenty of daylight and no shadows to hide in. I started pacing again, turning the problem over and over in my mind.
“We need to get Rivera out of the mansion, along with as many guards as possible,” Bria said. “Fewer men means less security and less chance of something going wrong and Elissa getting hurt.”
“But how do we do that?” Owen asked. “It’s not like we can just call him up and ask him to leave so we can break in and search the place while he’s gone.”
An idea popped into my mind. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that it would work. I went over, leaned down, grabbed Owen’s face, and gave him a long, deep kiss.
After the better part of a minute and a couple of wolf whistles from Finn, I drew back, smiling at him. “You, Owen Grayson, are officially a genius.”
Owen blinked a few times, trying to focus on my words. “I am?”
“You most certainly are.” I kissed him again, then straightened up and looked at Finn. “I need a number for one of your contacts.”
Finn sighed. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“Probably not.”
I told him who I wanted to call. Finn was right. He definitely didn’t like it, but he realized that it was our best option, so he hit a button on the speed dial and handed the phone over to me.
A thick, congested voice answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Hello, Mr. Mosley. This is Gin Blanco. Remember that favor you offered me earlier today? Well, I’m ready to cash it in.”