All the Pretty Girls - J. T. Ellison [114]
The screen split, and the image of an attractive, silver-haired man with Ray-Ban Orb sunglasses came onto the screen. The lenses of the sunglasses were polarized, and they looked dark yellow under the studio lights. He looked more like a Hollywood actor than a grieving father. The man had his faded jean-clad legs crossed, an ankle across the opposite thigh, and Tony Lama brown suede cowboy boots peeked out from the overlong jeans. His shirt was snowy-white linen and his tanned body rippled beneath it. The man oozed sex and money, he was a perfect example of Ralph Lauren’s vision for the horsey set. Watching the silent show, Baldwin understood how Tanner Clark came to be known as the don of the horseracing world.
“I can hear you fine.” The man’s voice was booming, commanding, and the anchor smiled. It would be a strong interview.
“Mr. Clark,” the anchor continued, “we understand that you believe your daughter has been taken by the Southern Strangler. Can you tell us what information you have been given that has led you to draw this conclusion?”
“My little girl is missing, and I want to plead with whoever took her to please let me have her back. I’ll be posting a hundred-thousand-dollar reward for any information leading to her safe return. She’s such a sweet girl, she never hurt anyone. Please, please, just let her go.” His head dropped into his hand and his shoulders started to shake. A small arm appeared from his left and the camera pulled back to show a young girl comforting Clark. The alleged best friend, of course.
The girl looked young, younger than Ivy Clark’s age of twenty-one, but the cameras could be deceiving when it came to youth. She could have been twelve or thirty as far as Baldwin knew. The way she touched Tanner Clark made him wonder if there wasn’t something more between Ivy’s best friend and Ivy’s megamillionaire father. A montage of pictures filled the screen while the man broke down. Ivy on a horse, Ivy in a ball gown, Ivy in jeans and boots and a tiny pink tank top with a young man who looked suspiciously like Prince William.
The anchor wasn’t about to lose the shot of the grieving father, but he had gotten to dead air and needed to keep the interview rolling. “Miss Simone, is that right?”
“Yes, I’m Serene Simone.” She had a slight accent that Baldwin wanted to say was French but he could not be absolutely sure. “I am Ivy’s best friend. She is dear to me and I want to echo Mr. Clark’s sentiment. We just want Ivy back home safe and sound.”
“Can you tell us a little more about Ivy, please, Miss Simone?”
As she began to speak, the montage started again. Ivy Clark was a stunningly beautiful young girl who looked like she could have a good time. She was smiling in all of the pictures, and Baldwin could see the sparkle of a small diamond in her right nostril. A photo of her in an open-backed dress showed a couple of tattoos on her shoulder, and another shot of her from the back showed some sort of tattoo on her lower back. Baldwin pulled the missing persons report to the front of the file and read a bit more. Chinese symbol on the inside of her right ankle, a small dragon on her bikini line, a rose on the top of her foot, a small butterfly on her right shoulder blade and more Chinese symbols on her lower back. They should not have any trouble identifying the body if the tattoos were intact.
He looked at the screen again, muting out the honeyed words of Serene Simone and concentrating on Ivy’s face. The mischievous grin and the sparkle in her eyes got to him the most. This girl was so alive, too alive to possibly be dead. But Baldwin knew that was probably exactly what she was. Dead and gone, like all the others. They needed to catch Buckley. Damn, why hadn’t they gotten any more information on him?
The time for