Twisted, p.1
Twisted, page 1
Twisted
Maggie Giles
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places, names, or persons, is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2023 by Maggie Giles
All rights reserved. For information regarding reproduction in total or in part, contact Rising Action Publishing Co. at www.risingactionpublishingco.com
Cover Illustration © Nat Mack
Distributed by Blackstone Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-990253-70-6
Ebook: 978-1-990253-64-5
FIC031010 FICTION / Thrillers / Crime
FIC031080 FICTION / Thrillers / Psychological
Follow Rising Action on our socials!
Twitter: @RAPubCollective
Instagram: @risingactionpublishingco
Tiktok: @risingactionpublishingco
For my Bella girl. I miss you every day.
Twisted
Chapter 1
Melanie Parker
This wasn't the first girl they'd encountered in the street, and Mel knew she likely wasn't the last. Her sour attitude pervaded as her best friend Jackie crouched next to the girl, trying to shake her awake gently.
The location was strange enough to put Mel on edge. They’d found the girl, whoever she was, slouched against the wall in a back alleyway behind a closed club with a swollen cheek, cut lip, and what looked like a forming black eye. Her bright red hair was mussed and matted with blood. She wore jeans and a cropped shirt, the latter torn. Whatever had happened to her hadn't been good.
As Jackie tried to coax the girl awake, Mel reached for the girl’s discarded purse, a square silver clutch. It was empty except for an orange bottle of pills prescribed to someone named Lexi. The drug—Solydexran—was unknown to Mel and the pills looked big and painful to swallow. Otherwise, the girl had nothing—no money, no ID—though Mel did find the glinting diamond bracelet wrapped around her thin wrist quite appealing.
“Hey, sweetie,” Jackie asked. “You okay?”
Jackie was always so kind and gentle, and often Mel wondered how they’d grown so close over the past year. They couldn’t be more different. Not that Mel didn’t care about the girl or what had happened to her, but this wasn’t the first one they’d come across and, more than once, it had meant bad news.
The girl blinked several times before her brown eyes focused on Jackie. She drew a sharp breath, then her hand flew up to her head, and a groan escaped her lips.
“Hey, sit still.” Jackie caught her hand. “You look pretty beat up.” She glanced back at Mel with a concerned gaze. Mel didn't budge. She knew exactly what Jackie wanted to do. She was always the saviour, bringing home lost and broken girls. The whole thing was getting old, especially when the girls disappeared the next morning … usually with something precious stolen from their house.
“Lexi?” Mel asked, trying the name on the bottle of pills.
The girl's gaze found Mel and her brow crinkled. “No, Candice … Candy usually.” She glanced around, a nervous look in her eyes as if trying to find an escape. There was nowhere to go, and even if there were, she wouldn't get far from the looks of her. She possibly also had a concussion.
Mel grimaced. Why would this woman have someone else's pills? In her twenty-eight years, Mel knew that meant only one of two things. Druggie. Thief.
“I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but you don’t look so good.” Jackie reached out and touched the bracelet Mel had been admiring. “That's pretty.”
Candy's eyes darted to it. Confusion clouded her gaze. “Uh, yeah, thanks.” She tried to shift and winced. “How did you find me?”
Jackie glanced back at Mel. “We were taking a shortcut home. And I’m glad we did.”
Mel crossed her arms, certain the girl was hiding something. “Do you remember what happened?”
“No.” Candy closed her eyes for a moment. “I can't remember anything.”
Mel gritted her teeth. Definitely a druggie.
“Can you move?” Jackie asked. “I'll help.” She slipped an arm around the girl's back and instructed her to go slow.
Mel stood back and offered the small purse. “This was next to you.”
“That's not mine.” Candy didn't even reach for it. “I've never seen it before.” She swayed and fell against Jackie, who steadied her.
Mel glanced down at the clutch in hand. Either she’d stolen it, or she was lying; Mel couldn’t be sure, and neither boded well.
“C'mon, let's get you out of the street.” Jackie walked alongside Candy as the girl limped, clearly favouring her right leg.
“Should we go to the hospital?” Candy asked, drawing a slow breath as they exited the alleyway.
Mel followed them. “You don't have any ID, nothing. They’ll ask a lot of questions. Ones I don't think you can answer.”
Jackie shot Mel a cool look over her shoulder before focusing back on Candy. “Do you think you were robbed?”
“I … uh don't know.” Candy's gaze dropped to the sidewalk.
“Don't worry,” Jackie said. “Blaine has stitched me up more than once. He'll say if you need a doctor.”
“You're taking her home?” Mel asked. She’d been expecting it but hoping Jackie would have sense this time. They had to be more careful about who they welcomed into their lives.
Again, Mel received another glare from her friend. “She needs help, Mel.”
Mel pursed her lips and didn't respond. The girl needed help, but did Jackie always have to be the one to provide it? This girl was just some prescription drug addict or thief. Why did she have to be their problem?
Main Street was busy that morning. Everyone's day was just beginning as Jackie and Mel's was ending. The hottest restaurants and boutiques lined the busy road. People of all different classes scattered the sidewalks. Some looked at them as they passed; others didn't even glance.
Across the street from where they walked, a noticeable commotion sprung up. Several police cruisers sat outside a small store roped off with caution tape. A large sign outside indicated it was a jewelry boutique, and even across the four lanes of traffic, Mel could see the shattered front window. Her mind immediately went to Candy's mysterious diamond bracelet.
“What happened there?” Candy asked as if reading Mel’s thoughts.
Jackie shrugged. “No clue. Robbery or something.”
“It looks pretty bad.” Candy reached down and fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist.
“Whatever, shit like this happens all the time around here,” Mel said, though she hadn't heard of anything that looked this severe in weeks, and she always made a point to keep up with the police. The more she knew about their movements, the easier it was to run her operation without disruption. And the safer it kept her and her girls.
Candy glanced back at Mel, who only looked at her with disdain. She swayed on her feet again, and Jackie reached out to support her.
“Where are we going?” Candy moaned, resting her head against Jackie's shoulder. “I’m exhausted. I could use a rest.”
“Don't worry,” Jackie said. “His place isn't far.”
Mel cleared her throat. Sure, the house was Blaine’s, but Mel had considered it home for the past two years she’d lived there with him.
Jackie ignored her. “I can't let you rest. What if you have a concussion?”
“Is it safe?” Candy asked, her voice quiet.
Mel scoffed at the idea of Blaine being dangerous.
“It is,” Jackie said. “Blaine looks like a bull, but it doesn't match his personality. I promise it will be fine. We'll make you all better.”
“Okay,” Candy said, the tone of her voice still uneasy.
“Where are you from?” Jackie asked, trying to keep her talking as they turned off the main street toward a row of houses.
It took a while before Candy answered, “I've lived here all my life.”
“And where are you living right now?”
Candy frowned. “Nowhere. My boyfriend kicked me out last week.”
This made Mel hesitate and rethink her theory. Maybe she wasn't just some deadbeat druggie; maybe her ex-boyfriend was abusive.
“What an ass,” Jackie said.
“Tell me about it,” Candy grumbled.
“Do you want to stay with us for a while?”
“Jackie!” Mel said, stopping before they climbed the cobblestone path to the front door of the large, two-story home.
“Only until she gets back on her feet,” Jackie said. “We can't just leave her alone with nowhere to go.”
Mel narrowed her gaze. They didn't know anything about her. What if she was some informant for the police? What if she could bring their whole lives crashing down? Mel had more to think about than just herself. Blaine, Jackie, and the other girls would be implicated if the police ever got word of how she kept so many women employed and off the streets.
Mel didn't answer as she stormed past them to the red front door. The brick was darker than the other houses on the street, and the three front windows on the lower level were shuttered. Only the silver sedan in the driveway confirmed Blaine was waiting inside.
“Hey, babe,” Blaine called from the kitchen.
“Hey.” Mel tossed her keys on the side table and kicked off her shoes, not bothering to look back as Jackie and Candy entered the house. Instead, she continued toward the kitchen.
Blai ne sat at the counter, slouched over the day's newspaper, and glanced up with a beaming smile when she entered. His wide smile was bright, and he offered his arms for a hug. Mel held back, too pissed to enjoy his affection. However, part of her wanted to crumble into his arms and let him deal with Jackie's nice streak.
“What's wrong?” His arms dropped to his side, and he slipped off the barstool he'd been sitting on. “You look annoyed. Did last night go badly?”
“No,” Mel said. “The job was fine. Christine took the clients to meet Jackie at a bar in town and from the sounds of it, they gave a show. Hopefully, it get us some returning business.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
Mel grimaced. “It was after, when Jackie and I were on the way back from the hotel, and she found someone to bring home.”
Blaine ran a hand through his thick hair. “Another stray?”
“You know Jackie.”
He rounded the corner and caught Mel's hips. “How's this one look?”
“Worse than all the others.” Mel slipped out of his hold and tossed the purse she'd found with Candy on the counter. “I was thinking a drug addict, though now I'm not so sure.” Then she waved toward the entrance hall. “Go see for yourself.”
Blaine nodded and left the kitchen.
Mel waited, listening as he spoke to Jackie in a hushed voice and then to his steady footsteps as they climbed the stairs. It was only another few seconds before Jackie entered the kitchen.
“Don't be mad,” she said.
“I'm not mad.”
“I know you better than that.” She cracked a smile.
“Hmm. Just make sure to hide the silverware.”
Mel hummed her disapproval, then reached for the bag on the counter. “What do you make of this?” She rolled the pill bottle toward Jackie, who caught it.
“No clue.” Jackie examined it. She cracked the lid and poured the large grey and white pills into her palm. “What do you think it is?”
“Who knows? It isn't prescribed to our lost girl.”
Jackie frowned as she read over the name. “Solydexran. Never heard of it.”
“Me neither,” Mel said. “ If we're dealing with a drug addict—”
“We're not,” Jackie cut her off. “We've seen enough of those. Candy isn't using. She's hurt.” She placed the bottle on the counter. “Considering she was kicked out of her boyfriend's, I thought you'd be more sympathetic.”
“Yeah, well, until I know who this girl really is, I'll keep my sympathy to myself.”
Jackie flashed her a sardonic smile, then turned away. “I'm going to go check on Candy.”
Mel let her go, then reached for the bottle again. She didn't know why the pills put her on edge since she'd never even heard of the drug before. She tipped one into her hand. It looked like a pain to swallow, and according to the instructions, whoever Lexi was, she should take these pills twice a day. Unsure what else to do, Mel snapped the bottle's lid shut, tossed it into the top drawer, and went searching for Gabi. Maybe finding out about Gabi’s night would take Mel’s mind off the morning, a lost girl, a jewelry theft, and strange pills. Could the day get odder? Mel sure hoped not.
Chapter 2
Detective Ryan Boone
Appearances suggested a typical burglary—the large front window shattered inwards, thick metal bars pried out of place, and yellow caution tape blocked the crime scene from the busy main street—yet the twisted feeling in Ryan's stomach said something different. After weeks of heavy caseloads, this one seemed too easy. Ryan ran a hand through his brown hair as his partner Brad Archer stepped to his side from the front seat of the cruiser. Archer instinctively straightened his suit jacket, something he did whenever he felt uneasy.
“Yikes,” Archer said.
“What? Too heavy for your first case after taking leave?” Ryan cracked a playful smile at his partner, who'd been off for two months with a new baby.
“Waking up this morning was too much,” Archer retorted, then waved a large hand in front of them. “Shall we?”
“Sure,” Ryan said. “Though I'd bet getting up to an alarm to chat with adults is a bit better than a screaming baby and shit-filled diaper.”
Archer only chuckled. Ryan had never been great with kids—only one of the reasons he didn't have them.
The two detectives ducked under the police tape and entered the front door. Inside, two uniformed officers stood near the back of the store, speaking closely with an older man. Two others dressed in dark forensic uniforms snapped pictures of the scene and spoke quietly to one another as they gathered whatever evidence they could find.
“Ah, Boone, Archer,” Superintendent Jasbir Singh said, stepping away from the other two. “About time you two arrived.”
“Sorry, sir,” Ryan said, cocking his head toward Archer. “You know we're still on the baby's schedule.”
Archer nudged him. “What happened here?”
Ryan found it obvious. The window had shattered inwards, scattering glass across the dark, carpeted floor. Inside, the square storefront was lined with plastic cases filled with various sparkling jewelry pieces, all intact except one. He crouched next to the broken-in case and pulled on a plastic glove before running his fingers along the edge of the giant hole in the side of the case.
“We're looking for a bad guy with a blowtorch?” Ryan asked.
“What do you mean?” Singh asked.
“The case has been melted.” Ryan straightened and pulled the glove off with a soft snap. “Why didn't they touch any of the other ones?”
Singh frowned. “Mr. Donovan has described an exquisite piece of jewelry. A silver bracelet encrusted with hundreds of tiny diamonds, worth a pretty penny.” He looked back at a short man with shock-white hair and chubby cheeks. “He seems to think that’s the most valuable piece they took.”
“Must have been some bracelet,” Ryan muttered as he scanned the cases filled with gold watches and thousands of sparkling gems. “Might be a good time to shop for the wife, eh Archer? Isn't your anniversary around the corner?”
“I don't need you reminding me,” Archer said.
“Of course not.” Ryan laughed. “She won't let you forget it.” Ryan scanned the case again when something caught his eye on the opposite side; a single pill resting in the crease where the wall met the floor. It was a cylinder, half white, half grey, clear against the clean carpet. Ryan tapped the closest forensic officer and directed her to the pill.
“Ever seen one of those before?” Ryan asked Archer when the woman picked it up and placed it in a clear bag. Archer only shook his head. To the woman, Ryan said, “Get that tested and let me know what it is.”
Then he turned back to the other officers and Mr. Donovan. “Are we only looking at jewel thieves out for your bracelet, or are they more basic, just looking for anything of value?” He could see the cash register open and empty.
Officer Jerry Quinn, the rookie on the team, shook his head. “They jimmied open the register, though Mr. Donovan says there wasn't much cash there. They busted into the back room and found the safe, I guess.”
Archer frowned. “Still doesn't explain why they left the other cases.”
“Thieves with a particular taste?” Ryan walked closer to Mr. Donovan. “Do you have an inventory of all the stolen items?”
“Of course,” the man said, handing him a package with the items' descriptions and photos.
Ryan flipped through the pages and found the bracelet Singh referred to. “This is the piece worth the most?”
“Indeed,” Mr. Donovan said.
“And the safe?”
“Cleaned out,” Quinn said.
“Broken into?” Archer asked. “How did they manage?”
“They must have had the code, or they were killer at breaking them.” Quinn ran a hand over his wavy, long hair, wiping away a layer of sweat on his forehead.
Ryan glanced around the room. “Hey, look, Archer.” Ryan pointed to the corner of the ceiling. “We're on camera.”
