The Red Light Girls (Unsolved Mysteries Book 2) by Kim Knight (most romantic novels TXT) 📗

“Do me and the paper proud.” Fleur gave her a thumbs up.

Madeline smiled shyly, then left the room, closing the door behind her. She headed back to her section of the building, weaving through the hustle and bustle of the office. As she walked down the hallway and into the main area with her journalist co-workers, she heard the phones ringing off the hock.

People answered phones or tapped away at their keyboards.

A new confidence and love for her job as a journalist, came over her.

Maybe this was a good move after all, leaving London behind, she thought to herself.

Settling herself at her desk, she pulled up her emails and glanced through them. One caught her eye. The subject was simply, ‘what did curiosity do to the cat?’

Madeline laughed and thought it was a joke chain email from a co-worker. She opened it and scanned through the content, expecting a corny joke, but her mouth fell open.

Nice article!

But curiosity, my dear Madeline, killed the cat. Just like those women, you’re so interested in. I’d not get too curious if I were you.

Your friend,

Curiosity

Madeline glanced around her office dumbstruck.

Who would send such a message? Is someone jealous? She questioned the motive of the sender, then frowned at the screen.

In her line of work, every journalist was always looking for the next big story to propel his or her career forward.

Who would do this? The question whirled around in her mind.

Her eyes flashed around the open-plan office. She stopped on each person and contemplated if it could have been that individual. Her co-workers paid her no mind, they continued with their work as if she weren’t in the room.

A hot flush ran through her, followed by a shiver.

Whatever! Damn haters! She deleted the anonymous email.

The sender’s name was simply ‘your friend.’ It could have been anyone playing a sick joke on her.

Madeline placed it to the back of her mind and focused on the rest of her inbox.

The name of one of the missing women caught her eye. She clicked open the email to read it.

Dear Madeline,

I’m Ana De Jog’s mum. I read your article in the newspaper. I’m so pleased someone in the media is still taking an interest in these cases. Ana has been missing for over eight months. We’re still searching.

Please continue the great work. We need to catch this person! And if there is a link between my daughter and those other poor women, we must show the police. Ana was not perfect, of course this I know. And yes, she was a window girl, but she had a good heart.

I loved her, and I still do—very much so. I’ve not found any peace or closure knowing my Ana isn’t home, and that this killer is still out there. Please contact me if you need anything.

Yours truly,

Mrs. De Jog

Madeline pressed reply with a heavy heart.

What do I even say? She searched for the words to respond with, tapped out a formal paragraph, deleted it, and instead, she kept her response simple.

Mrs. De Jog,

Thank you for your message.

I won’t give up.

Sincerely,

Madeline

After she pressed send, Madeline felt a sense of responsibility to help keep the events happening around the city in the media’s spotlight. For the sake of the families, and in hope that witnesses would come forward.

Madeline’s eyes fall to the bottom right-hand side of her computer’s screen.

Damn where does the time go?

One thing about working as a journalist, there was always a constant deadline that hung over one’s head. Knuckled down, she tried to focus on the rest of the articles to write for the rest of the week. She even tried to put aside the Red Light Girls and their sad fates, but it was hard, virtually impossible to do so.

The pull toward the girls and the mystery surrounding them, won the tug-of-war battle with her deadlines.

These will have to wait, she decided, then powered down her computer.

Glancing at the clock, she noticed that she technically had only half an hour left of the workday, anyway.

She had planned to work late tonight, but that went out the window the moment her computer powered down.

I’ll come in extra early tomorrow. Rising, she grabbed her coat. I promise.

She turned off her monitor, pushed in her chair, and then headed for the exit.

I’ll head home to change first, she thought. Then hit the streets of the Red Light District.

14

Messenger

Detective Gibson

Gibson placed his pen down and paused the CCTV footage he was reviewing, then glanced up at the clock above the door. It was almost five in the afternoon. And given the time difference, he had to hold off placing a call to Suzy Chan’s parents until later in the day.

He reached around his chair, into his jacket pocket, and retrieved the piece of paper he had recorded the contact details on. For a moment, he stared blankly at the long-distance number, then back at daily newspaper.

Suzy’s picture was on the front page.

Damn, this is gonna be hard. They’re thousands of miles away. To find out this news will devastate them, Gibson thought to himself.

After a beat, he picked up the phone, then dialled her parents in Hong Kong.

“Hello,” a well-spoken female voice answered.

Gibson wasn’t sure who he expected to answer, but it certainly wasn’t someone with such a polished English accent.

“Hi, may I speak to Mr. or Mrs. Chan, Suzy’s parents?”

“Yes, I’m Mrs. Chan. How may I help you?”

Gibson took a deep breath, then opened up the paper to page twenty-five to the appeal for witnesses, or a recent sighting of Suzy.

“Mrs. Chan, I’m Detective Logan Gibson. I’m calling you from Europe, Amsterdam.”

“Oh, my. A detective? My daughter Suzy is in Amsterdam. Is she okay?”

“Mrs. Chan there’s no easy way for me to say this.” Gibson held his breath for a second or two. “She was found dead in a woodland area a few days ago.”

Mrs. Chan’s loud gasp travelled across the line.

“Mrs. Chan, are you there?”

“Yes. Are you sure it’s