An hour later when he arrived at the station without Kyra, Brandon pulled him aside. “Amid all the good news today, I gotta be the one to spoil the party.”
Jake tensed. “What is it?”
“Those IP addresses for Laprey and his aliases? All fake.”
Jake shook his head. “Fake how?”
“All housed with servers in other countries. He patched and spliced through. Probably why he used so many different usernames and accounts. He moved from server to server.”
“That means you can’t track him.”
“Not through the accounts he used on Websleuths.”
“Damn.” Jake slammed his fist on his desk. “Can you keep trying to recover his private communications?”
“I will. I’ll get as much data as I can on this guy—who else he messaged on that board, what he communicated. It’s not nothing, Detective.”
“I know that, Brandon. It allowed us to connect him to the copycat killings and identify him as The Player—the original.” Jake studied Brandon as he adjusted his glasses and looked away. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I mean, is he really The Player? I heard that’s based on some flimsy proof from Roger Quinn, the detective who couldn’t solve the case. Some people are saying Quinn is just piggybacking on this to clear his own cold case.”
“Is that what they’re saying?” Jake squinted and Brandon took a few steps back. “They can believe what they want, but as long as I’m head of this task force, that’s the party line. Believe it or not...at your own risk.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, I’m not saying I don’t. I’m just saying...” Brandon trailed off and swallowed.
“Glad you told me.” Jake aimed a finger at Brandon’s chest. “Now you’re treating him as if he is The Player, right?”
“Absolutely, sir.” Brandon retreated from the desk.
Jake rubbed his chin. Did the rest of the task force think he was too tied to Quinn and the old cases? Kyra’s mother’s case? Hell, what did it matter? They’d stopped the first two copycats and with the information from Barbi, they’d stop the third. And if his instincts proved right, they’d catch The Player, too, and he could hand him on a silver platter to Quinn...and Kyra.
A hushed whisper rippled through the room, and several of the guys crowded at the window.
He looked at Morgan Reppucci, the lone woman in the room “What’s going on?”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “They just heard that the dancer from Candy Girls is in the parking lot.”
Jake clapped his hands. “What’re you guys? Thirteen?”
Morgan said, “That’s what I’m saying.”
Morgan’s partner peeled away from the window and shoved her shoulder. “Don’t give me that. When we saw The Rock in that restaurant, you had to wipe the drool from your face.”
Jake laughed along with the guys, and Morgan reddened. “That’s different.”
One of the officers peering outside said, “Never mind. She looks more like a Barbara than a Barbi, anyway.”
Luckily for Barbi, she was not headed for the task force war room. Brandon had set up a computer, queuing last night’s Candy Girl surveillance video in one of the small conference rooms. Billy was meeting her downstairs and taking her up to the viewing room.
Barbi had requested that Kyra be in the room with them, and Jake approved of that. Kyra had been in the club last night, too. Maybe she’d remember the guy.
Jake tried to keep things in perspective. All they had right now was a swizzle stick on the body from a gentlemen’s club where Mike liked to place his hands around the neck of a lap dancer. So far they only had Barbi’s word that Mike had been there on the same nights as the murders. But once they had a suspect, they could start looking into him.
Kyra walked into the war room, nodded in his direction and stashed her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk. She pointed at the door and exited again.
He followed her out. He’d have to give her the bad news about The Player’s IP addresses, but that could wait. When he caught up to her, he asked, “Everything okay at your place?”
“Everything’s fine. I reviewed my security cam, and nobody even came close to my apartment last night or this morning.”
“Good. Did you feed Spot?”
“I swear, if you’re so worried about that flea-bitten critter, you should take him in at your house.”
“That would give Fiona even more reason to come back.” They arrived at the conference room where Barbi, her face devoid of makeup, her hair in a braid, sat in front of the computer.
Still a pretty woman, but not what the guys in the other room had expected. “Hi, Barbi. Thanks for coming to the station.”
From behind her glasses, her eyes sought Kyra’s face, and Kyra smiled and took the seat next to Barbi. “Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah, just want to get this over with. I am so creeped out right now.”
Billy reached for the mouse. “It’ll be easy.”
Jake hovered over Billy’s shoulder as Billy clicked the mouse and said, “This is the club’s opening last night. Pepper gave us everything.”
Jake held out his hand. “Before we start, to be clear, Barbi, you’re saying Mike came to the club twice this week, right? The night before we found that body in Topanga Canyon and last night.”
“That’s right. The first time, he was all excited and pumped-up, last night not so much. He has mood swings like that. When he’s down, he usually doesn’t request a lap dance.”
“Okay, hit it, Detective Crouch.”
Billy started the footage, and Barbi hunched forward to peer at the customers coming through the door. Thirty minutes in, she jabbed her finger at the screen. “That’s Mike.”
They all seemed to expel the same breath, as Billy stopped the video and snapped a picture of the frame showing a big guy with sloping shoulders in a jacket with a motorcycle on the back.
That was the only distinctive thing about him. He’d turned his face away from the camera—as if he knew it was there—and his hair, an indeterminate shade of brown, obscured his profile.
Starting up the video again, Billy said, “Maybe we’ll get a better look at him when he reaches his table.”
The camera at the entrance didn’t include the club itself, and they lost sight of Mike after he paid—with cash—and slipped through the black doors.
Billy noted the time on a piece of paper, clicked on another folder on the computer’s desktop and sped through the video of the area surrounding the stage to a few seconds after Mike walked through the doors.
They got a good look at some of the patrons as they took their seats, ordered drinks and waved at the stage, but none of the footage included Mike.
“I don’t see him. He doesn’t usually sit at those tables. He’s off to this side.” She jerked her thumb to the right.
Billy held up his finger. “All is not lost. There’s one more view Pepper gave us from over the bar. Maybe he got caught in that.”
Jake murmured, “Or maybe he knows where the cameras are stationed and keeps clear.”
Billy launched the third camera view and zeroed in on a table Barbi picked out.
“That’s his leg. That’s all I can tell you.” She slumped in her seat. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”
“You’re not done yet.” Jake put his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Detective Crouch is going to take you to see our sketch artist. We called her in today. We’ll get a composite out there. That’ll be a huge help.”
Barbi scooted her chair back. “I can definitely do that.”
“And if Pepper can get us footage from the night earlier this week, maybe we’ll have better luck finding a full view of Mike.” Jake leaned in toward Billy as he rose. “Can you find Jansen from Vice and send him in here? I saw him earlier. He used to hang out at C
andy Girls when he was undercover.”
Billy nodded. “Some guys have it rough.”
When they left, Jake said to Kyra, “It’s a start.”
His personal phone buzzed, and he fished it from his pocket. “Hi, Tess.”
“Where’s Fiona?”
“She’s still at Lyric’s house. Lyric’s brother is giving her a ride home this afternoon, but I told Fiona to give me a call if she wanted me to pick her up—and I can.”
“Jake, it is the afternoon. I just texted her and the message didn’t show as delivered, so I called her and it rolled right over to voice mail.”
Jake’s belly fluttered for a second when he glanced at the time on his phone. He hadn’t realized they’d spent so much time with Barbi. “Did you call Lyric?”
“I don’t have Lyric’s phone number, do you?”
“I don’t.” Jake licked his dry lips. “But I have Mrs. Becker’s number. Do you want me to call her?”
“I guess not yet. I’ll call and text Fiona a few more times, and you can do the same...when you have time. If we don’t get any response by four o’clock, then call Mrs. Becker.”
“Okay, I’ll text her right now.” Jake ended the call and typed a message to Fiona. He tapped the display to send it and watched the little blue text balloon sit there. He twisted his head toward Kyra, busy on her own phone. “I’m going to text you as a test.”
“Go right ahead.” She held her phone in front of her face. “Everything okay with Fiona?”
“I’m sure it is.” He sent the text to Kyra, heard a zipping sound from his phone and watched the Delivered message appear beneath the text. It hadn’t done that with the text he’d sent to Fiona.
“Got it.” She held up her phone.
“Yeah, I know you did because it says delivered beneath it.” He switched to Fiona’s text and leaned over to show Kyra. “Your text said it was delivered. Hers doesn’t. That was what happened the night she traveled from Monterey to LA and turned off her phone.”
“Turned off or dead.”
“And calls go straight to voice mail.”
“Yes.”
He hadn’t waited for Kyra’s answer, tapping Fiona’s name on the display. His gut tightened when he heard Fiona’s voice. “Not here. T-T-Y-L.”
“What does T-T-Y-L mean again?”
“It means talk to you later.” Her eyebrows knitted over her nose. “Straight to voice mail?”
“Yeah. I’m sure she’s okay. She was going to hang out with Lyric this afternoon. If something had happened to the girls, Mrs. Becker would’ve called by now.”
Jansen stuck his head in the room. “Cool Breeze said you wanted to see me.”
“We might have a suspect in the Copycat Three case who frequented Candy Girls.”
“Got a hit on the stir stick, huh?”
“Thanks to you.” Jake gestured with his hand. “Can you have a look at this guy in the video and tell me if you recognize him? It’s not very good, but it’s all we got. Our witness is with the sketch artist now.”
“Sure.” Jansen nodded to Kyra.
Jake rubbed his eyes, his gut still knotted. “I’m sorry. Kyra Chase, this is Detective Trevor Jansen, with Vice.”
Jansen took Barbi’s chair and ran through the portion of the video where Mike entered the club a few times. “Can’t help you, but that jacket he’s wearing is for posers.”
“Huh?” Jake tried to focus.
“He has a jacket with a motorcycle on the back. No hard-core biker is going to wear that. You can cross the bikers off your list of suspects.”
“Thanks for your time, Jansen. I’ll send you a copy of the sketch when it’s ready.”
As soon as Jansen stepped out of the room, Jake called Lyric’s mother. Her phone went to voice mail, too, but not immediately. “Mrs. Becker, this is Jake McAllister, Fiona’s father. Again, thanks for having her over this weekend. Her mother and I are trying to reach her and it seems her phone is turned off. Could you please have her call me? Thanks.”
Jake captured his phone between his hands. “If she’s pulled another stunt like she did last week, she is going to be in big trouble.”
“I’m sure her phone just died—for real this time.” Kyra squeezed his biceps. “Maybe you should go home. Everything’s under control here. Everyone’s doing what they should be doing.”
“Go home?” He paced a few steps, dragging his hand through his hair. “You’re right. I can’t concentrate. I’ll check in on the sketch session.”
Jake peeked into the room where the sketch artist, Jessica Finch, was working with Barbi.
Jessica gave him a thumbs-up. “We’re almost done. She’s doing great.”
“Great. I have to run so I’m going to hand you off to Detective Crouch. Thanks, Barbi.”
Jake practically plowed into Billy in the hallway outside Castillo’s office. “Billy, can you handle the sketch when Jessica’s done? Make sure Jansen gets a copy. I—I have to get home.”
Billy’s nostrils flared. “Everything okay with Fiona?”
He must look as panicked as he felt. “She’s with a friend, but we can’t reach her phone. It’s turned off.”
“Or the battery died.” Kyra pressed a hand against his back.
“Go, go, go. I’m sure she’s okay, but you need to be home.” He snapped his fingers in the air. “Don’t worry about anything. I can handle the sketch and anything else that comes up. It’s Sunday. Most of the team will be out of here soon, anyway.”
On the way out of the station, with Kyra by his side, Jake tried to text and call Fiona again, with the same results.
Kyra walked with him to his car. “I’m following you home, and I don’t even care if Fiona’s already there and sees me.”
“Do you think she’s there?” Jake had a new hope to cling to.
“She might be. Maybe Lyric’s brother dropped her off and she fell asleep. She’s probably tired after the weekend she had.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
Jake watched both of his phones on the drive back to his place, jumping every time a text came through. By the time he got home and through the front door, it was four o’clock. He expected a call from Tess at any minute, and he hoped like hell he could tell her their daughter was asleep in her room.
He left the front door open for Kyra and bounded up the stairs, two at a time. He burst into Fiona’s room and nearly dropped to his knees when he saw her empty bed.
When his personal phone buzzed, he snatched it from his pocket with an unsteady hand. He took a deep breath before answering. “Mrs. Becker, is Fiona with you? Put her on, please.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. McAllister, Fiona isn’t with us. She said you were picking her up at The Grove. That was almost two hours ago.”
Chapter Thirteen
By the time Kyra reached the bedroom upstairs, Jake was on the phone, pacing, his hand by his side, clenching and unclenching. His gaze wandered past her, unseeing.
“Wait, what are you talking about? I’m here, at home. I didn’t pick her up. That wasn’t our arrangement, and she never called me.”
Kyra balled a fist against her belly. Then she tugged at his sleeve to slow him down.
Jake seemed suddenly aware of her presence and put the phone on speaker just in time for her to hear Mrs. Becker’s voice come over the line.
“I’m sorry, Mr. McAllister. That’s what Lyric told me.”
“Call me Jake. Is Lyric there now? Can I speak to her?”
“She’s not home. Sh-she went out to eat with her father.”
“Lyric’s been home? You’ve seen her? Talked to her?”
“Yes, yes. Her brother drove her home from The Grove. She was here for about an hour, and then her father picked her up.”
“When do you expect her back? I need to talk
to your daughter, Mrs. Becker. Fiona turned off her phone. She hasn’t answered our texts or phone calls.”
“Oh, my God. I’ll get on the phone to her father right now and have him bring her home. You can come right over...and call me Ellie. I’m so sorry, Jake. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have allowed the girls to change the plan.”
Jake closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. “It’s all right, Ellie. It’s not your fault. I’m coming over right now.”
“You are a police officer, right? Is there some process you can expedite to find her?”
“I’m going to track down the location of her phone before it went dead...or was turned off.”
“Lyric will tell you whatever you need to know... I promise you that.”
“Thanks, I’m leaving now.”
Jake ended the call and threw his phone at the bed where it bounced once and landed on the floor. “Dammit. Fiona did it again. She lied. But she wouldn’t lie this time to get back to her mother’s. Then, why?”
“Don’t break your phone. You’re going to need it.” Kyra circled the bed and picked up the phone from the floor. As she pressed it back into Jake’s hand, she said, “You’re going to have to call Tess.”
He grabbed the back of his neck. “I wish I didn’t have to tell her anything until I know more.”
“Let me drive. You need to get on the phone and start making calls. How fast can the phone company ping Fiona’s cell, and do you need a warrant for that?”
He jogged downstairs and she followed, her hand on the rail so she wouldn’t tumble down and plow into him.
“I pay the bill on the phone. I don’t need a warrant. I’ll have Billy contact the provider, and they’ll at least be able to tell me where the phone was when it...went off.”
“She must know you’re looking for her by now. She may realize what trouble she’s in and call you, like last time.” Kyra hitched her purse over her shoulder and scrambled for her keys.
As Jake veered toward his car, she took his hand. “My car, remember? Where am I going?”
When they got in the car, Jake reeled off the Beckers’ address as he snapped on his seat belt. Then he immediately got on the phone.
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