Court stiffened, his back against Payne’s door. Had she meant it, or was she joking? If he knew her better he wouldn’t have to think twice about it. “If only I’d brought my picks with me today, we could be in there already,” he said, using a tone that could only be taken as sarcasm.
He couldn’t tell if she caught the sarcasm or if she was reconsidering her suggestion based on his response. “We should be happy we have electronic warrants, and the power is still on in Seattle, eh? I can wait another fifteen minutes.”
They moved the car into an empty space where they could see both Payne’s car as well as the apartment door. As they parked, there was another huge clap of thunder, followed closely by a flash of lightning. The power blinked off again.
The rain turned the windshield into a blur. Ivy turned the ignition back on. “I think we should call Redmond PD and ask for some backup.”
Court made the call, but the storm was putting strain on the locals already sent out to manage traffic around downed trees and power outages. There wasn’t going be any help from Redmond. Court didn’t want to wait for the warrant, but he wasn’t about to cross that line. Especially not with Ivy. Not yet. If he’d been alone, maybe he would be inside already, taking a preliminary peek around.
Ivy turned the key in the ignition and put the wiper blades on their fastest speed. It was barely enough. “Payne’s probably en route to Karen’s house. We should go there and wait for him.”
“Shut down the wipers. They draw attention.” Court looked up at the apartment. He wanted to get a feel for what they were dealing with before approaching him directly. It wouldn’t take that long to get a preview into Payne’s private life. “Nah. Let’s give it a quick cursory search. We don’t have to do a fine-tooth comb. I just want to take a look. You know what I mean?”
“Okay. Five, ten minutes, then we get the hell over to Hunter’s.”
Court’s phone buzzed. The warrant was ready.
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Court turned the key in the lock and thrust the door open, holding his gun in front of him. “Police, don’t move.”
Nothing stirred. The darkness created by the power outage and blackened sky made everything as dim as full out night. The only light came from a laptop sitting across the room, sitting open with a ball bouncing around the screen.
As they turned into the hallway, the sound of something breaking against tile drew them to the first door. His heart raced as he moved forward, kicking it open with a single blow, gun at the ready. A cat jumped off the counter, streaking past them, a flash of orange, mewling and hissing as he went. It disappeared around the corner into the bedroom at the end of the hall.
Ivy let out a nervous laugh.
“Christ. That was cliché. Let’s finish this,” Court said. His heart hammered against his chest as the adrenaline flooded his body.
There were only two other doors off the hallway. They moved with quick efficiency to clear the rooms. Payne wasn’t there. They put their guns away and slipped on latex gloves before doing a more thorough search.
The room across from the bathroom stank. Not with the sweet sickly scent of a dead body, but of human sweat, piss, and moldy leather. The window was covered in thick brown paper and taped around the edges with duct tape. It was neatly done, the corners of the tape mitered in perfect angles like a picture frame.
Payne had replaced the carpeting with bamboo flooring almost identical to that in Karen’s workspace. The smell from the room was coming from a dark mound in the middle of the floor. Court dropped to his haunches to examine it. The light wasn’t helping, and the reeking mass was thick and dark. He didn’t want to disturb it before forensics got there.
“What is it?” Ivy asked squatting next to him and adding her light.
“Hell if I know. It smells like he pissed on whatever it is.”
“Smells like rotting leather.”
It clicked. “Someone in forensics is going to have fun with this. I’m betting it’s the body suit.”
“Dude’s more than a little pissed, isn’t he?”
Ivy stood first and motioned to the closet. Court added his light to hers. The entire inside of the closet was covered with photographs. A quick count showed about sixty photos. Each showed a man, his eyes carefully blotted out with black ink, in one submissive position or another and Karen Hunter standing over him. The implements she held in her hands varied as did what she was wearing and what she was doing to each man.
“Good thing Karen Hunter got that deal, eh? We’d have her on several charges in Vice based on these,” Ivy said.
“Nope. Every one of these men would say it was consensual fun and free. No one would testify to paying for it. No one would press charges.” Court studied the pictures, aiming his light on each one in turn. They filled the closet, and it was clear they had been taken from exactly one angle. He groaned. “He put a camera in the clock on the wall. Shit. I can’t believe I didn’t even think of that even when the clocks were being put together right in front of us.”
“Payne was going in there to collect images. He went in to switch out the memory cards. Man. She was a busy lady if this was over six weeks’ time.”
Court was surprised that a full third of the images showed Karen wearing normal clothing, not the outrageous costumes in her closet. One man was not naked, but wore female lingerie in each of his images. The four shots showing Karen in shiny black thigh-high boots and tight corset were with a man that was familiar to him. The blacked out eyes were larger, covering up glasses, but thin metal temples glinted at each ear. She obviously catered to individual desires.
There were more photos of her with Berkeley Drummond than anyone else. Even though the eyes were blacked out, Court recognized him. “What’s with blacking out the eyes?”
“I have no idea. I can’t wait to see what the psych report shows on this guy. Lives with his mother until he’s thirty-five. Has a long-term obsession with a dominatrix. Goes apeshit after his mother dies. Accidentally kills a guy in the domme’s studio, and then … what? He’s blaming the domme for all of it?” Ivy poked at the guy in the glasses. “These look familiar.”
A tree scraped against the roof. They both looked up even though there wouldn’t be anything to see. Court focused his light on the glasses guy.
“Definitely a cop. I’m sure I know him,” Ivy said. She lifted a hand and peeled at a corner of one photo with a fingernail.
The photo didn’t move. Court waited to see if she would work to rip it off the wall. She didn’t. She dropped her hand, leaving the photo on the wall. He’d been holding his breath the whole time and let it out slowly. And recognition came to him. The man with the glasses was the man on the burner phone list that Stensland was protecting—Stensland himself. No wonder he’d stepped in to make those calls.
Court felt a wave of nausea flood over him. If they left the photos, there was sure to be a shit-storm in the department when people recognized him. If they took them, they would leave obvious holes in the order on the wall. Besides, if they were here, they would probably be on Payne’s computer as well.
“He’ll have to live with whatever happens next,” Ivy said. “We should call in forensics and lock this place up.”
Court decided the best course of action was to pretend he had no idea who was in the photo. Let it come out and watch as Stensland’s career crashed and burned. He scanned the floor, but there was nothing there. The shelf above the clothes rack only had a thin layer of dust. The photos lining the interior of the closet were it.
“But the eyes. That is totally creepy,”
He pointed his light at the images one last time, settling on one in the center. Berkeley Drummond knelt in the center of the floor facing the camera. Right under where he died. Karen stood behind him, one hand on his shoulder the other reaching around to cup his cheek on the other side as she leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Her long hair cascaded over his neck. It was an intimate moment, and, even with the eyes inked out, there w
as no mistaking Drummond’s expression of calm bliss.
They took another run through the apartment, careful to not touch anything. The lab team would be very thorough in collecting evidence. Whenever that would be. Word was the storm had picked up and the 520 bridge was backed up do to a major multiple injury collision. It might be hours before they got there.
The bathroom would yield a toothbrush, a comb and hair samples. He had no desire to screw up the backup DNA they might need if Payne disappeared.
“Nothing in the kitchen,” Court said as he flashed his light over to the laptop. The ball continued to bounce its silent way back and forth across the screen. Court tapped the mouse square to wake it out of sleep mode and slammed it down shut when the password request box popped up. It figured.
He was about to suggest they get the hell over to Hunter’s house when he saw a familiar black pouch sitting next to the computer. A gun bag. It was so dark, he could easily have missed it. Inside was an opened box of Magtech .45 auto bullets. The gun was gone.
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Ivy opened the box of ammo and counted the empty slots. “He’s got a big caliber with thirteen in the magazine.”
Underneath the ammo was a receipt dated the day before. Court pulled out a plastic evidence bag and slipped the receipt inside. He did the same with the ammo and the empty gun bag. “Might as well since we’re here.”
“We’ve got two people over at Karen’s. I’m feeling more uneasy about this. It looks like Payne has some sort of plan with the gun.”
They sealed the apartment door with tape and a lock box. They put a boot on Payne’s car. If nothing else, it would keep him on foot or bus. Court guessed that Payne was in Karen’s neighborhood, and they needed to get moving. Who knew what he was likely to do next?
As they were pulling out of their parking space, a man wearing a dark green coat and carrying a Safeway bag crossed in front of them. His hood was pulled down far enough to cover his face. He paused and studied the boot on Payne’s car. He lifted his head slowly, looking up at the apartment. Even from this distance, the yellow tape down the sides of the door was easy to see. Ivy had already turned the car toward the exit. “Hey, hey… Stop the car,” Court said. “We gotta check this guy out.”
The man turned to look at the car as Ivy put the brakes on. He backed away from them and dropped the Safeway bag in the middle of the parking lot. He took off running toward the cluster of dark, brooding trees of Nike Park.
“Fuck, that’s Payne right now. He’s heading to the greenbelt. You take the car and get to Karen’s, I’ll go on foot behind him.”
“You’ll get lost.”
“I took a good look at that map. I’ll figure it out.” Court jumped out of the car and pulled his gun from where it sat snug between his belt and his back. The wind lashed at him, but he threw up his hood and yanked on the cord to pull it close around his face. He almost tripped on the bag on the ground. Inside were cans of cat food.
He saw Payne disappearing into the path leading into the park. Court would have yelled for him to stop, but his words would get eaten up in the roar of the wind.
Court followed him onto the path, but couldn’t see him anywhere. The canopy of tall trees would provide a cool comforting shade on a hot summer day. But now, with the storm-darkened sky, it looked like he was entering a tunnel that waved and shimmied with the wind. The ground was slick, and any footprints were nebulous pools of stone and mud.
The thick branches overhead swayed and creaked loudly, wood rubbing against wood. It competed with the rushing of the wind. The trees shielded him a bit from the swath of rain, but their needles made up for it with prickly darts against his exposed skin.
The path from the apartment complex ran north toward Karen’s neighborhood, but there were several forks along the way. If he remembered correctly, he could follow it to the right until he got behind her house. There was a trail in the greenbelt behind her neighborhood that connected with this one.
He heard a large crashing in the woods off to the left. Maybe Payne had his own way through or had gotten off the path for better cover. He might have used it dozens of times since moving in.
Court followed the noise onto a smaller path through the ferns and Oregon grape. The wind was definitely less intense inside the cover of the trees. He tried calling out. “Payne! I know you’re in here. Show yourself before it’s too late.”
Even with the help of the flashlight, it was tricky navigating through the tangle of roots and shrubs. He followed the sound of wood snapping, moving away from him to the west. Or, at least, he was pretty sure it was from the West. Mostly. Damn. There was nothing to orient himself on. No landscape, no mountain, no house. It was all dark.
He was getting closer. A louder snap and shuffling of the bushes a few feet ahead of him. He raised his gun at a shadowed figure coming toward him.
63
It was a deer. Great. Court lowered the gun. Now he was lost in the woods, and he’d lost Payne. He pulled out his iPhone and studied the map, grateful for technology. He found the trail he’d gotten off and decided he was pretty close to the abandoned Nike missile site for which the park was named. His GPS was sluggish, showing him half a mile from where he actually was.
He dialed Ivy. “I lost him. Where are you?”
“Almost there. There’re branches everywhere. At least two trees on the ground over power lines. It’s an obstacle course out here.”
He could barely hear her over the storm. He raised his voice. “I’ll be coming through the back…” and then his phone died. He tried dialing back, but he was informed the network was too busy. The wind must have knocked out cell towers in the area. He stuffed it in his pocket and thrust his gun back into his belt.
Within a couple of minutes, he found himself on the edge of the woods facing military-style fencing with barbed wire coiling across the top. He turned to the right and followed it along the edge until it met up with the backyard of a house. He couldn’t see anyone else along the space between the greenbelt and the fences of the yards.
Even out in the open, it was dark as night. Occasional bursts of lightning lit the sky and let him see his surroundings. Karen’s house was the last house on the east edge of her little cul-de-sac. He would need to follow this row of houses to the end. The heavy rain made the ground underfoot slippery. He picked his way along while searching for Payne. A branch snapped overhead and landed right in front of him, its outstretched arms scraping across his face. It was big enough that moving it would be difficult, so he went around it into the embankment between the houses and the greenbelt. The ground underneath sank under his weight and he felt the ooze of cold mud fill his shoe.
Court had to grab the shoe with his foot to release himself. He worked his way back to the top of the embankment after getting stuck another two times. This was slowing him down. Once free of the mud, he ran, caution taking a back seat to urgency. Payne was probably already at the house.
64
Cracks and pops from breaking wood competed with the shriek of the wind. Tree limbs swayed drunkenly, like outstretched arms reaching for balance. More branches the thickness of his arm snapped off and fell to the ground, thudding to all sides of him.
He finally came to Karen’s house. He hoped he had gotten the map right. It looked like the right place. A wooden fence blocked the back yard from the greenbelt. The gate in the middle was shoved open into the slight uphill slant of the grass.
They had managed to talk Stensland into setting up one officer in the back and one in the front of her house with the third on foot in a circuit around the area. He didn’t want the guy in the back inadvertently shooting at him. Court edged his way slowly around the gate, his badge leading the way, ready to identify himself.
His eyes were adjusting to the dark, but every flash of lightning made him pause and take stock. The shape of the house ahead was dark on dark, but visible. A dim greenish light glowed around the edges of a curtain in a room to the right and through
the kitchen window.
He couldn’t see anyone moving around inside. The guard wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Court ran across the yard toward the sliding door and tripped over something. No, someone. He caught himself on his hands and knees, his legs draped over the soft form of a body.
One of the uniformed officers was unconscious on the ground, face turned to the side. Court checked for a pulse. Found it strong and steady. The cold rain had already soaked the other man through. Court lifted him by his underarms, dragging him off the grass and toward the cover of the back porch. He tore off his coat and covered the officer. He had no way of calling for help or backup right away, but at least he’d be out of the cold rain.
Court launched himself toward the sliding door, and pulled at it. Locked. He felt his way along the outer wall of the house until he came to a window. It was closed against the weather. He shoved at it, but it was locked, too.
He dropped to his haunches and felt around. Picking up a large rock, he hit it hard against the window near the handle. Even standing right next to it, Court had barely heard the crash of the glass. He pulled out thick spiky shards of glass and reached inside to grasp the handle.
The window opened to the outside and it took some gymnastics to climb through. He tumbled to the inside onto a sofa pushed up against the wall. He rolled off, dropping deftly to his feet as he oriented himself to the darkened basement.
His soaked and mud-caked shoes squelched and slurped against the linoleum floor. He stopped to free his feet from his shoes and socks. Then he pulled out his gun.
He flashed his Maglite around the room but didn’t see anyone. A trail of mud and water led from the sliding door to the stairs. Payne had tossed his coat at the base of the stairs.
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