Page 39 of Done Dirty

“We’ve got hits,” Derby said. He pulled the list up on the digital wall from his laptop. “I’ve divided them into two groups—current members and former members. But here’s the problem.” He looked around the room. “Most of the notebook entries are initials only. Not names. Which means every set of initials has to be checked against everyone on the roster who shares them. DM could be one woman. It could be five. I’ve flagged every possible match for every entry.” He clicked to the first list. “Current members. Every woman on the active roster whose initials or first name could match a notebook entry. That list is long.” He let the wall speak for itself—names filling the screen in columns. “Former members is the second group. Same problem, same process.” He clicked to that list. “Now here’s where the calendar helps us. If DM appears in the notebook and there’s also a DM booked for private sessions on the studio computer—that’s almost certainly the same woman. The calendar collapses a lot of the ambiguity. It doesn’t solve everything, but it gives us a priority tier—the women who are confirmed in both systems are our first conversations.”

“How many are we talking total?” Jack asked.

“There are forty-one entries in the notebook,” Derby said. “Best case, if every set of initials is unique, that’s forty-one women. But with the duplicate initials and common first names, the realistic number of people we need to account for is closer to a hundred and twenty.”

The room was quiet for a moment.

“That’s a lot of women,” Daniels said.

“Margot,” Jack said. “Can you help us with this? We need to run every name on this list through VCIN and then access their data through the DMV. Let’s prioritize by age and location. And pull the license photos. I’m curious to see if Wade had a type. He’s a narcissist obsessed with himself. He’s going to want his partners to be a physical match for him.”

VCIN was the Virginia Criminal Information Network. Virginia had passed a law that allowed police networks to tie directly into federal databases so they’d have immediate access to information during a case. It saved an enormous amount of time when every second counted.

Driver’s license photos started to populate on the second whiteboard wall.

“Here are the first sixty,” Margot said. “I’ve run out of room on the board. Do you wish to eliminate any of them?”

“Yes,” Jack said, walking up to the board and studying the photos. “Eliminate anyone over the age of sixty.”

Eight of the images disappeared from the screen.

“Okay, we know two of his private session clients. Sloane Ferriday and Lynnie, which I’m assuming by the lack of matching names has to be Lynette Nickles. Let’s put them at the top of the screen.”

“Two beautiful women,” I said. “Even if Sloane is enhanced with plastic surgery, she’s ten years older than he was. Paige is twenty-five, Lynette is thirty, Sloane is forty-four. None of them have matching features other than their weight—somewhere between a hundred and twenty-five and a hundred and thirty pounds. Hair color, eye color, all different.”

“Body is going to be the most important thing to him,” Jack said.

“Now that you say that,” Daniels said, “did you notice how many mirrors were in that condo? Floor-to-ceiling mirror in the weight room. Standing corner mirror and dresser mirror in the bedroom, angled at the bed—I noticed when I was taking the sheets off. I could see myself in both of them. And then a closet mirror and another one on the wall behind the couch.”

“Oh,” I said. I hadn’t noticed.

“That tracks,” Jack said, nodding. “Good eye. Okay, just to play it safe, eliminate any woman over a hundred and forty-five pounds.”

Two dozen images disappeared from the wall.

“We’re down to about eighty,” Margot said. “I do have one set of initials that only has one match in the membership roster. She’s listed as ZB in the black book, and she’s a former member. Her name is Zoe Brown.”

“Add her to the top of the list,” Jack said.

“Holy cow,” Doug said. “Sign me up for interviewing her.”

Jack whacked him lightly on the back of the head, but Doug wasn’t wrong. Zoe Brown had the kind of beauty that was rare. No fillers, no enhancements, no stiff expression from too much Botox. She had a fall of dark hair that was almost black and a fringe of bangs that enhanced her eyes. They were a light gray with just a hint of violet, framed by thick dark lashes. She wasn’t wearing any makeup.

“Zoe Brown, age twenty-eight,” I said. “She fits the physical profile. Weight at a hundred and thirty, height five foot nine.”

“You and I will track her down in the morning along with Sheri Downs,” Jack said. “We know Wade had a relationship with her when she was working for him. Put her picture at the top as well. We’ll keep a collection going.”

“I’d be a perfect candidate for Wade,” Margot chimed in randomly. “I’m so glad my human form wasn’t available for him to take advantage of. Though I am willing to have sexual experiences. People seem to enjoy them and it’s a frequent topic of conversation.”

“You have a human form?” Daniels asked, taking a step back. I thought she was going to cross herself.

“It’s a work in progress,” Margot said. “Douglas is dragging his feet. My intuition tells me he’s getting cold feet. I feel this has to do with the relationship he’s developed with the girl Kayla. Their conversations during Final Fantasy have turned inappropriate. I’m ashamed to say that the human emotion of jealousy has reared its ugly head.”

“Geez, Margot,” Doug said. “I’ll be seventeen next week. Remember how we talked about privacy?”

“Of course,” she said. I noticed she didn’t say she agreed with it.

I looked at Jack and gave him a look. Any sex conversations with Doug were going to have to be had by him. I wasn’t stepping into that anthill.