Tabloid Trix Chapter 35
Will Brietling stared at the screen of his iPhone as if he was receiving a message from the grave. He glanced at Jim, and said hoarsely, "It's from Trixie."
"Where is she? Is she okay?" Jim jumped up to look at the screen, almost grabbing the cell phone out of Will's hand.
"It's from earlier in the day," Will lamented. "She must have sent it when I was on the plane. It was just delivered now." An anxious Jim watching over his shoulder, Will opened the short message.
Will, found out something interesting. Pix and info to file Becky on computer ~ Trixie
Blindly reaching down for his messenger bag, Will made a grab for it and unloaded his laptop. Booting it up, he logged onto Locard and his email.
And there she was. Becky. Not a living being, but an item made out of plastic and cloth and with big blue unblinking eyes.
Will. This doll hit the market 20 yrs. ago. She's wearing an almost duplicate copy of the clothing the victims of the Dollmaker were dressed in. He's not trying to re-create a woman. He's trying to create a living breathing replica. Trixie.
"What's all this?" Jim asked. He was staring at the picture on the screen of the doll that, in a weird way, sort of resembled his wife. His heart beat painfully against his chest when he realized this might be the last communication from her. Ever.
"It's a case I was consulting on in Canada. I asked Trixie to do some research for me." He stared up at Jim, excitement and sorrow warring for supremacy in him. "She just might have provided a huge piece of the puzzle that will allow us to solve a serial killer case spanning decades." He couldn't give voice to the thought yet that the Dollmaker may have abducted Trixie. They had no proof.
An IM popped up on the screen from Anna.
Anna C: Will, sending you security footage from the camera outside.
Will B: Did it catch anything?
Anna C: Shows Trixie getting into one of Bastian's cabs, but he is NOT the driver.
A few seconds later, Will was fumbling trying to get the attachment opened, and waiting impatiently while it buffered. Jim was pale, sweaty, his heart thundering in his chest. And then she appeared on the screen, and his whole world tilted to one side.
She had her purse and laptop case with her, and she smiled quickly at the driver. She appeared to ask him a question as she was climbing into the back of the car. The driver then pulled something out of his pocket and leaned into the car. Before he shut the door, the camera captured Trixie slumping in the seat.
And then, something incredible happened. The driver looked up at the security camera and smiled. With a jaunty two-finger salute, he jumped in the driver's seat and took off.
"He knew it, damn it," Jim exploded. "He knew the cameras were there, and yet he took her anyway." What did that grinning sonofabitch do to her to make her slump over like that? Where was his detective now?
Will was galvanized by the sheer audacity of the abductor. But the cameras revealed something else. Trixie had her laptop with her.
Will B: Trixie has her laptop with her.
Anna C: Already notified LoJack. Let the detectives there know. They should be tracking it by now.
He turned to Jim, wanting to give the man a sliver of hope. Hell, he wanted to grab onto it like a lifeline himself. "Trixie's computer is equipped with LoJack. Anna notified the company. The police should be able to track it."
"And if they track the computer, we may be able to find her." Jim closed his eyes, said a quick prayer.
"I'm going to go next door to the girls' apartment and see if I can talk to the detectives. If LoJack is tracking Trixie's computer, the Police Department will relay that information to them." Will clapped Jim's shoulder. "This is a good thing Jim." Leaving his computer on the table, Will scurried out of the room.
Jim walked over to the front window, leaning his forehead against the cool glass. Trixie was out there somewhere. She was out there alone, with just her wits to get by. Putting his large hand palm first against the glass, he prayed his detective was up to the task.
The boys' apartment...
Aidan's stomach was churning. People were milling about between the three apartments, and he felt like no one was doing anything. How could she be kidnapped in broad daylight? So much for the great protection the Wheelers and Lynches offered. It seemed to Aidan they were all about protecting their own, and screw Trixie.
Kaitlin came in silently behind him, twining her arms around him and hugging him tightly to her. "Nobody's paying attention to us commoners little brother. I don't think we're going to find out anything tonight. Do you want to go home and get some rest?"
"I couldn't rest Kaitlin. Not while she's still out there. I'd just drive myself crazy downstairs. And I'd probably drive you crazy too. I know you want to be close to Dan."
Kaitlin gave a heavy sigh, and rubbed her pretty face against her brother's shoulder. "She is not yours, Aidan."
"I know that Kaitlin. I know she belongs to Jim. I know that in my head as sure as I know anything else. The problem is," he said, putting his hand over his heart, "I just can't seem to accept it here."
"I love you, Ace, I love you a lot. Just give it some time. Maybe it wasn't a good thing for us to move into this apartment building. Maybe it's not a good thing that I'm dating Dan. Maybe we need to get away from the Bob-Whites."
"Don't ever think that Kaitlin. This is my battle. You need to go after your own happiness and not worry about me. I saw Dr. Breitling head on over to Trixie and Jim's. I know Jim doesn't like me very much, but maybe they heard something. I'm going to go snooping over there."
Giving his sister a quick kiss on her head, he broke from her embrace. He just hoped that Jim Frayne wouldn't decide to use him as a punching bag.
5 Beekman…
She slowly rose to consciousness, the mists clouding her brain seeming to dissipate like morning fog in a hot sun. Her eyes fluttered once, twice, and finally opened. She was surrounded by white for a moment, and for a panicked moment in time, she thought she was dead. Wasn't there supposed to be a white light when you die?
When her division cleared enough to focus, she was able to make out the gauzy canopy that surrounded her like an enveloping cloud. Not daring to move too much, she tried to look around.
She was in a bed. A beautiful white canopied bed, made for a Princess. A light coverlet insured she didn't catch a chill; soft and comfortable pillows surrounded her. She slipped her hands under the covers, dreading what she would find there.
Trixie breathed a sigh of relief. She was still clothed; however, her relief turned to consternation when her hands slid over fabric that definitely did not match the items she dressed in that morning.
She took a self-inventory. She didn't feel that much different other than a pounding headache. She flopped back against the pillows, and screamed when the disfigured and burned Becky seemed to leap from nowhere and sprawl haphazardly across her face.
The Bob-Whites' apartment building…
Will Breitling approached the two detectives that were speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Belden. Peter Belden was looking thunderous, and Helen Belden looked stricken. Motioning Dhannie to his side, Will informed him that Trixie's laptop was with her at the time of the kidnapping.
"The laptop is equipped with LoJack, Detective, and it has been activated." Peter Belden, overhearing the conversation, grabbed Will's arm.
"That means we can track my daughter, right? Like a stolen car." The relief on the faces of Trixie's parents was wrenching. Both men were more than aware of what they might find when the computer was located. They didn't have the heart to dampen their spirits.
Levi broke into the little group. "We located the taxi. Alleyway down in Alphabet City. Uniforms are securing the crime scene. Let's roll."
Peter Belden stopped him with a hand. "I want to come. She's…she's my daughter."
"Not now, Mr. Belden. We need to see what we have here. I promise as soon as we know anything, I'll give you a call. It's best if you stay here for now."
Helen's voice was shrill. "I know why you don't want him to go. Did they find Trixie's body? Is that it? Please, she's our little girl." Her voice broke, and she burst into tears. Maddie and Sharon came running over, smoothing calming hands through her hair and enfolding her in their arms.
"Mrs. Belden, we don't have a report of a body. I promise you, we'll be in touch as soon as possible. Lee and I need to get down to the…the alley." God help him, he almost said dump site to this woman barely keeping it together.
Aidan's face drained of color. No-one even noticed him as he passed through the hall, and into the open doorway of Jim and Trixie's apartment.
In an alleyway near Alphabet City…
The uniforms did a pretty good job of cordoning off the alley and keeping the curious away. As Dhannie and Levi skidded to a stop, the officer patrolling yellow "crime scene" tape snapped to attention.
"Who was the first on the scene?" Levi snapped out as they ducked under the bright yellow banner.
"I was. We picked up the signature from the LoJack in our cruiser. Officer Donovan." The kid was a fresh-faced recent academy graduate. You could always tell.
"You didn't touch anything, did you, Donovan?" Dhannie needed to know if the scene was compromised in any way.
"No. My partner and I…Jack King, he's on the other side of the alley, we peered in the car but didn't see anything. Just a purse and a messenger bag."
Levi grunted in return. God, he hated these alley dumps. There was always broken glass, the strong smell of urine and rotting garbage. Add the distinctive scent of decomposing flesh and he often wished for some kind of a brush to stick up his nose to get the smell out.
The two detectives pulled out their flashlights and examined the interior of the taxi. Like Donovan relayed, there was Trixie's messenger bag and her purse. One of the beams caught the glint of something shoved between the backrest and seat in the passenger portion in the car.
"Hey Lee, the meter is still running." That was going to be some whopper of a bill.
"Dhannie. Look." The strong, harsh light glinted off the syringe on the floor of the car. "Maybe get a print off it."
"So the perp injected her with something when he leaned in, Makes sense." Donning plastic gloves, they had the officer open the door with the pry bar. The forensic team arrived and began to process the scene.
"We can confirm the purse and messenger bag belong to the victim," one of the team said. He pulled out a wallet with her driver's license on it. "Locard computer is in the other bag."
Another one was carefully bagging the syringe in a brown paper evidence bag. "See what's stuck between the seam," Levi directed.
The technician pulled out a gorgeous wedding ring set. "Rings. A wedding set. There's an inscription inside. JWF's Special Girl and the infinity sign."
God. JWF. James Winthrop Frayne. She was able to remove her rings and slide them in the seam. Good girl, Levi thought. If the perp dumped the purse and bags, we could identify she was in the taxi with the ring and also get epithelials. You're thinking like a detective.
Grim-faced, the two detectives moved to the rear of the taxi. "Pop the trunk," growled Dannie, and he closed his eyes, just for a second. Please don't let us see curly blonde hair.
And when they opened the trunk, he realized his prayer was answered, after a fashion.
Back at the Bob-Whites'…
Lissa Thorne flashed her credentials to one of the officers manning the chaotic scene in front of the apartment building. "Interpol," she said briefly, and watched as the young officer waved her inside. She prayed the doorman wouldn't recognize her.
He was too busy to even notice. He just pointed her in the right direction, and went back to fielding angry complaints from the other tenants.
Lissa approached the bank of elevators hoping that the bodyguard who prevented her from seeing Trixie the other day was not guarding the elevator. Again luck was with her. She flashed her credentials to Big John and again briefly said Interpol. Nodding, the large man that was inside the freight elevator pressed his hand to the glass.
"I didn't think that they were going to call Interpol in," he said. "Do they think Trixie was taken out of the country?"
"I don't know what they think. I need to be briefed when I get upstairs. You know how the NYPD is. They keep everything close to the chest." What she said was not quite a lie, but not quite the truth either. She just hoped that she could get to talk to Jim Frayne, because he might be the only one who would believe her.
When they reached the 14th floor, the bodyguard turned to her and said, "There are only three apartments on this floor. They all belong to the Bob-Whites. The families and the other law enforcement agencies that are here are drifting between the apartments."
"Which apartment belongs to Jim and Trixie Frayne? Could you point that out to me? I really need to speak to Mr. Frayne first."
Big John was happy to comply. "The Fraynes live in the last apartment on the left. Take it easy with Jim won't you? He's very, very close to losing it."
Lissa patted the big man on the arm. "I'm here to help. Believe me I know what he's going through." By the look in her eyes and the somber expression on her face, the big man could believe it. Something bad had happened to this woman and it was reflected in her sad eyes. He only hoped that whatever experience or assistance she could offer could mitigate some of the heartache these people, who he had come to care for, were suffering at this moment.
The hallway was deserted, although the doors to all the apartments were open. Taking a deep breath, Lissa went in search of Jim Frayne.
5 Beekman…
She flung the doll off her face and almost across to the other side of the bed. What the hell was that thing? She blinked her eyes, trying to clear them and opened them very, very slowly.
No one had come running at her scream and she was thankful for that. Trying to raise up her pounding head, she leaned back on her elbows.
It was a doll. Not just any doll, but Becky. The clothes may have been worn and mended, the face may be disfigured and blackened, but she still could recognize the doll she had researched on the web.
It was then that Trixie realized the full importance of what had happened to her and the danger she was in. She realized her life was in the hands of the madman and serial killer known as the Dollmaker.
Staring at the virginal white that enshrouded her, her nimble brain came to a startling conclusion.
She was going to be his bride.