The Cutting Room. Jilliane Hoffman
He rubbed his stomach. ‘Yum.’
‘Don’t ask for favors on my behalf.’ She finally smiled a little. ‘It is the least you could do.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘As long as you pull your fangs in.’
They stepped on to the main floor and headed to the courthouse cafeteria. Across the all-but deserted lobby, a well-dressed woman stood by herself at the bank of elevators. When she spotted Manny and Daria she began to walk toward them. She looked to be in her forties, with ash-blonde hair that was coiffed into a long, edgy, layered cut that could only have been professionally styled that morning. Daria’s eyes fell on the Hermès Birkin bag and then on the baubles — as in plural — that rested comfortably on several digits of her slim, tan hands. Tennis hands, no doubt. Miami had its share of wealthy inhabitants, but there was a noticeable difference between flashy South Florida spenders and their understated sisters to the north. Another Palm Beacher had crossed the county line.
‘Uh-oh. This is gonna get interesting,’ Manny remarked.
Before Daria could ask why, the woman was upon them.
‘Excuse me, Ms DeBianchi,’ she said, extending her hand only to Daria. She nodded coolly at Manny. ‘Detective Alvarez.’
Manny nodded back.
‘Ms DeBianchi, my name is Abby Lunders. I was watching you in court this afternoon, listening to what you were saying, and I need to speak with you right away …’
9
The resemblance was uncanny. And given Daria’s all-too recent experience with the woman’s seemingly psychopathic offspring, a little unnerving. Mom had the same rich, polished skin tone, full lips, high cheekbones, and heart-shaped chin. Like Talbot, a preternaturally striking person. And the same intense, light hazel eyes. Eyes that didn’t merely see — they studied. With a perfectly smooth forehead and almost flawless, wrinkle-free skin, Abby Lunders probably spent a considerable amount of time in the plastic surgeon’s office. And with super-toned arms and a slim waist a teenager would envy, no doubt the gym, as well. In the right lighting, she could pass for her son’s sister, which was obviously the look she was aiming for.
‘It came in my inbox last week. Friday. I’ve no idea who sent it. I don’t normally open up mail from people I don’t know, but given its title and what’s happened with Talbot, I did. I just can’t believe what’s on there. I don’t even know what I’m looking at exactly, but after being in court this afternoon and hearing all the things that you said, Detective, about the body and how you found that girl. I …’ She hesitated. ‘There are simply too many similarities.’
The three of them were across the street at the State Attorney’s Office, sitting in Daria’s third-floor cramped cubby of an office that overlooked both the courthouse and the Dade County Jail. ‘Can we use your computer, Counselor?’ Manny asked, holding up the USB flash drive that Abby Lunders had given him.
‘Let me make sure we have a copy,’ Daria said, taking the flash from Manny. The security debacle that had happened on the laptop wasn’t far from her memory. ‘I’ll get Investigations to scan it,’ she said as she stepped out of the room.
‘Mr Varlack didn’t want me to say anything,’ Abby began after Daria had left. ‘He wants to use this at trial. But I … I don’t want to wait that long. I mean, if it’s so obvious Talbot didn’t do this horrible thing and that someone else is responsible — then he shouldn’t have to wait in jail for five more minutes. Not in that sewer pit,’ she said with a disgusted shudder, nodding behind Manny at the imposing nine-storied mass of gray concrete outside the window that was the Dade County Jail. ‘And Mr Varlack says it could be months, possibly a year before the case goes to trial. That’s insane. Absolutely insane! How could it take that long?’
Manny nodded, but said nothing. He’d seen murder cases languish on a judge’s docket a lot longer than a year before a jury was finally sworn.
‘Talbot’s a good man. I know you don’t believe that, I know you don’t want to believe that, but he is. I heard what you said in there. He’s never been in any trouble. He’s smart, hard-working. He would never do the things you’re accusing him of because, well, frankly, he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t need to drug a girl to get her to go home with him or have sex with him. Just look at him. When he was eighteen, he modeled on runways in Milan and Paris. He does not want for beautiful girlfriends.’ She nodded at the case folder marked State v. Lunders that sat on Daria’s desk. ‘And I mean really stunning girls. No offense to the dead.’
Manny resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mrs Lunders. Rape’s not a crime of passion, and the fact that your son can easily bed attractive women doesn’t move me. Let’s take a look at what was sent to you.’
Daria walked in right then, flash in hand.
‘Did you view it?’ Manny asked.
‘Not yet.’ She popped the flash into her laptop.
‘It’s the only thing on there,’ Abby quietly noted. ‘That’s a brand-new flash drive. All I did was copy the email and download the attachment.’
Daria’s F drive showed only one file. It was an email titled ‘LOOK AT ME’ with an .mp4 share file attached. She clicked on it, immediately launching a video.
A young woman hung from a low-beamed ceiling in a black room by her wrists, which were tethered with a black cord to a ring secured above her. She was dressed in only a thin, see-through bra and panties, but the bra had been cut or opened from the front and her breasts were exposed. She dangled in the air, twisting around, the toes of her bare feet barely touching the polished cement floor, sweeping back and forth, like a broom.
Her head was bowed and her honey-blonde hair, stringy with sweat, completely covered her face. Because of the hair and the stocky, athletic body type and what she’d been found wearing, Daria at first thought it was Holly Skole. Then a black-gloved hand came into the shot and tucked the hair behind the girl’s ear, exposing half her face to the camera and she could see it wasn’t Holly. A pair of pantyhose had been stuffed into the girl’s mouth and the nude legs of the hose were wrapped several times around her head and knotted at the nape of her neck. Behind her on a metal table were syringes, gauze, several bottles of different colored liquids, a half-full refill bottle of window cleaner, a bottle of Drano and black electrical tape. The camera jiggled and moved. It was obviously hand-held.
The girl looked up and her scared blue eyes grew large. A muffled whimper came out of the computer. That’s when Daria realized there was sound with the video. The girl shook her head violently at something off camera and her eyes bulged and darted about. Her body jolted in the air, twisting, as if she were running a marathon in place.
But she couldn’t get away. There was nowhere for her to go. The hand returned, and in it was a shiny pair of kitchen shears.
The video stopped and the screen froze. The final frame captured the girl’s frantic face as the nude, muscular back of a white male, scissors in one hand, a long-stemmed red rose in the other, entered the shot. The entire clip had lasted less than a minute. On the far-right bottom of the screen were tiny red numbers: 29:12:14, and 11/07/06.
‘Jesus,’ Daria said as she sat back in her seat. ‘What the hell was that?’
Manny frowned. ‘Is that it? Is there more?’
‘No. Just that clip,’ Abby answered. ‘Like I said, I didn’t know what it was at first. I don’t know that girl and, while I can’t see his face, I don’t think I know that man. “Why would someone send this to me?” I thought. But after today, after what I heard, I think I understand now. This is what happened to the Skole girl. This is what you described in the courtroom today, Detective. The Skole girl had been tied up, and she had been injected with drugs and she had been raped. Just like what seems to be happening to this girl on the video. And someone sends it to me?