She rushed back to the body. “Come here.”
He obeyed. She grabbed the charred head and cracked it to the side. Her sudden action caused him to jump back.
“You see this?” she said, pointing to a small hole through the base of the skull.
He drew in closer. The hole was no bigger than a fingertip.
“Listen,” she said, shaking the head back and forth. Something rattled faintly inside. “That’s the bullet.”
“What?”
She looked up at him. “A bullet, Alfonso. It’s in there because I didn’t have time to take it out.”
A deep silence wedged between them. He needed the time to absorb what she said.
“What do you mean you didn’t have time to take it out? She just died this evening—in an explosion.”
Without a word, Kincaid headed toward a door in the back of the room. He followed her. The door slid open and they went down a short flight of stairs, into a small dimly lit room. There were two doors, one located directly in front of the staircase and the other off to the right, both with an automatic lock. She came to the door on the right and swept her identity card over the platen. The indicator light turned green.
“Judith, what’s going on?”
She turned to him as the door slid open. “In here are the bodies that have been brought in this month. All murder victims with no families or friends. The homeless, drug users, prostitutes. Some are John and Jane Does.”
“Why have they been down here for so long?”
“No one cares about the nobodies. They rate at the back of the line of people who matter.”
“What do these dead people have to do with the bank?”
She entered the room. “Both of those bodies I just did a dental scan on were supposed to be in here.”
“I don’t follow?” he said, trailing her inside.
The room was cold enough to cause his breath to plume. Inside twelve long shelves, six on either side of the room, lined the walls. Upon the shelves were bodies wrapped in clear plastic bags. Kincaid approached the nearest one and unzipped it.
“What do you mean they’re supposed to be in here? Talk to me, damn it!”
She exposed the corpse’s head and backed away with her arm outstretched.
“What?” he demanded, coming up beside her. He looked down to what stared up at him. It wasn’t a face of flesh and blood, but the plastic expression of a mannequin. “What the fuck is that?”
“Don’t you see? The bodies were taken from this room and brought to the bank.”
The answer suddenly paged him in the head. “The hostages—they weren’t hostages at all. The bodies, the accidental explosion, the whole thing was staged!”
Chapter 8
Knox arrived at the mayor’s apartment building and was ushered through the herd of reporters still waiting for a statement from the mayor. He took the elevator up to the penthouse and knocked on the door. Seconds later, a woman answered it.
“Hello, Lucas,” she said. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Come in.” She stepped aside, allowing him to enter the foyer.
“How are you, Mrs. Revell?”
“I’m fine, and please, call me Kay. Any friend of the Shos is a friend of mine.”
He’d first met Kay Revell at City Hall during his awards ceremony. She was a kind, sweet-natured woman, motherly even. “I just came by to offer my condolences before I begin my investigation. How’s he doing?”
“As well as any father who’s just lost a child,” she answered sorrowfully. “Claudia hasn’t stopped crying since she heard. She won’t come out of the bedroom. Hiroshi’s taking it real hard. He’s been in his study snapping at everyone.”
“I can imagine.”
He followed Kay into the main area of the apartment. It was a lovely home, smelling of potpourri, with Dogwood furniture, satin curtains, and hardwood floors. He’d visited many times before. He’d become one of the mayor’s most trusted friends after the drug bust in 2025.
Kay knocked on a pair of sliding doors.
“What is it?” Sho’s voice demanded from within.
She gave Knox an I-told-you-so look. “It’s me, Hiroshi. Detective Knox is here.”
There was a moment of silence before the doors suddenly slid open. “Lucas, please, come in,” Sho’s tone was weighed by grief.
“Thank you,” he said, entering the room.
Sho turned to Kay. “Make sure we’re not disturbed.”
“Of course,” she said with a thin smile.
Knox walked farther into the study and stopped when he reached three leather armchairs in the center of the room. Sho slid the doors shut and approached. “Have a seat, Lucas. I know you’re on duty, but do you want a drink anyway?”
He lowered himself into one of the chairs. “No, thank you, Your Honor.”
“Lucas, you’re my friend; call me Hiroshi.”
After making a scotch and soda at a mini-bar, Sho took a seat in front of him. He began rubbing his shoulder.
“Old soccer injury acting up again?”
“It comes and goes. I’m glad you came. Things have been a real mess around here. Claudia won’t come out of the bedroom.”
“I’ve been told. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
Sho took a deep drink. It appeared he’d been awake for days. “Our relationship had never been the same since our fall-out,” he admitted. “Jade was passionate like me and just as hard-headed. After she left, we never spoke. I kept myself busy and rarely took notice of her absence. I suppose that makes me a bad father.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d never met any of Sho’s children, only heard their names mentioned from time to time. Jade hadn’t been close to her father—or her stepmother, for that matter. She’d lived in California until she moved back in for a brief period. “When was the last time you spoke to your daughter?”
Sho rubbed his head thoughtfully. “Shortly after the unpleasantness with Aaron was over. She stayed with us during that time, but moved back out after I forbade him to come here again.”
He knew about the unpleasantness Sho meant. Everyone in the city knew it. The news had broadcast the story every day until it ran dry. Aaron Goodall had been accused of having sex with one of his male students, which he’d vigorously denied. Sho knew his stepson was gay and had accepted it, but the public scandal had embarrassed him. Even after the young man who’d started the accusations against Aaron mysteriously dropped the charges, the damage had already been done. The allegation, the press, and the constant jokes on late-night talk shows had been too much for Sho.
“I never heard anything from her since,” Sho added, bringing the glass to his lips. “Jesus, I can’t believe this is happening again. My father was murdered. Did you know that?”
He didn’t.
“Burglars had entered our home in Tokyo. When Father tried to stop them, they beat him to death in front of Mother, my sisters, and me. I was only a child then.” The only sound came from the clinking of ice cubes in his glass. “They were never caught. After that night, I vowed to gain enough power to help put an end to lawlessness. As you know, it’s been an uphill battle.”
Sho was a firm believer in handing down harsh sentences to criminals and was a supporter of capital punishment. Knox respected him for owning up to his campaign promise to tighten the leash on crime and violence, which had caused New York to decay after the earthquake. Looters, rapists, kidnappers, and murderers had infested the city like the plague. He’d developed and passed a bill called the More Aggressive Law that allowed excessive force to be used in certain situations. It granted police the ability to cross lines and ignore rules that would have once cost them their badge. The law’s impact gradually got the city on its feet again, and the crime rate steadily began falling.
“Did you know she was dating the suspect, Nikolai Crowe?”
Sho lowered the glass and shook his head. “No. I never met him.” He took another drink. “If I was president, I would p
ass a bill to make sure that murderers like him were executed without delay.”
Sho’s More Aggressive Law had brought law and order back to the distressed city, but to pass such strict enforcement in each state would begin the breakdown of the very fiber of American freedom. If the More Aggressive Law spread across the country, people would come to accept it, but with limited results. The overall suppression of freedom would force them to lash out. The only reason the law had worked so well in New York City was because the city needed a heavy hand after the earthquake. Knox was relieved when things had improved and the law released some of its pressure. Sho was reluctant in doing so, but he understood the dangers in allowing the law to continue in a city that no longer needed such structure. To bring his law back to its former glory, he needed help in cementing his idea of justice and strict law enforcement without the worry of public retaliation. Which Knox knew would never happen.
“You would be a great president, Hiroshi,” he said diplomatically.
“Thank you.”
“And I believe that in no time, this man will get what he deserves,” he said dryly. His stomach twisted a bit at betraying his hunch. He’d practically confirmed Crowe’s guilt, which he wanted to believe. It would be easier to believe Crowe had murdered Jade, but nothing in the world came easy, especially the truth.
He stood. “I should go. There’s a lot of work to do.”
“Find him, Lucas,” Sho said pleadingly. “Please.”
He gave no reply. Instead, he nodded and left the study. On his way past the staircase, someone called his name. He turned to the mayor’s wife coming down the stairs. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying. She embraced him, and he wrapped his arms around her.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Claudia said.
“I know,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry.”
With a sniff, she pulled away. He noticed a swollen cheekbone under her streams of tears. Another cosmetic procedure to go with the handful she’d already undergone.
Like Jade’s mother, the current Mrs. Sho was Caucasian. Sho preferred them over Asian women. She was his second wife, married after the death of Jade’s mother, who’d died years ago from cancer.
“I always thought Jade would be around long after I was dead. Is it so wrong to believe that?”
“Of course not,” he said, holding her hands.
She freed one of them to rub the side of her forehead. “I’m sorry if I seem a little out of it. I took some methadone earlier for the pain in my face.”
“Did you by any chance ever meet Nikolai Crowe?”
“No. After Jade moved out the second time, she never really spoke to us. Never called or sent an e-mail to let us know how she was doing. She could’ve married that young man for all we knew.”
“Why did she come home in the first place?”
She looked impassively at him before shying away without answering. Finally, she said, “Because I asked her to.” She lifted her chin to him. “The whole thing with Aaron really turned her father inside out, so I had asked her to come home and stand by his side. It took a little persuasion, but she eventually came home, even if it was just for a little while.”
She began crying again.
He quickly took her into his arms and held her, this time more firmly.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Sho, I’ll find him.”
He pulled away and turned to leave for the front door.
Kay caught up to him on his way out. “I want to give you my number in case I can be of any help. I think Hiroshi will be occupied for the rest of the night with the press, and Claudia might have one of her anxiety attacks if she’s disturbed.”
He programmed her number into his phone as she read it off. She did the same with his.
“I’ll be here for the rest of the night,” she said, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Claudia isn’t one to deal with her emotions too well in difficult situations.”
“You’re a good friend. Call me if you need anything. I’ll do the same.” He turned and left, closing the door behind him.
“Do you have something I can wear over my head?” Nikolai asked Ebenezer. “Like a hat?”
“Why?”
“Because, I’m hungry. I need to get something to eat.”
“It’s too dangerous for you to go out into the city right now.”
Nikolai stood and put his hands on his hips. “Yeah? Well, I don’t have an artificial stomach like you. I need to eat three times a day like everyone else. So, do you have something I can wear, or what?”
“Humans can go weeks without food,” Ebenezer pointed out.
“That’s called a hunger strike, asshole, but I’m not protesting today.”
Ebenezer approached and a burst of fear exploded inside him. He took a step back. “Hey! You promised you wouldn’t hurt me again.”
Ebenezer eyed his plastic bag at his feet. He knelt and searched through it, then rose and threw something at Nikolai, who caught a black hooded jacket.
“Convenient,” he said, taking off his own jacket. He put the other on, zipped it up, and grabbed the flashlight. Clicking it on, he slipped the hood over his head. “See ya.”
“Wait,” Ebenezer said, hurrying to stand between him and the door.
Nikolai nearly jumped out of his skin, dropping the flashlight. “Jesus!”
“I need to go with you. I can lead you through the tunnels. It will be safer than traveling on the streets.”
“I’ve had enough strolling through the sewer, thanks,” he retorted, bending over with a groan to pick up the flashlight. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m just going to some dinky fast food place. I’ll be right back, lickety-split. Besides, I’ll be less noticeable if I don’t have some homeless giant following me.”
“I’m not homeless”
“Prison-dwelling giant then.” He rubbed the small of his back. “But I’m going on my own; so, if you wouldn’t mind moving …”
He stepped forward, but the Replica didn’t move. Nikolai squeezed between him and the doorway like a cat through a small opening. “No, no, I got it,” he complained, wedging through. He expected Eb to grab him, but the Replica took no action, and finally he was free. “Damn. Could you have moved a little?”
“I could have.”
“Yeah. Well, be back soon.”
He walked away, still expecting to be dragged back, or at least hear the sound of heavy footsteps behind him, like a stray dog that wouldn’t take a hint. But he heard nothing and wasn’t brought back. Instead, he journeyed through the desolate prison with the flashlight brightening his path. He left the building and jumped the fence once he reached the sally port.
Food was the last thing on his mind. He needed to pay a visit to his sister. Jean had spoken to Jade recently and might have told her something. It was a risk, but so was sitting in an abandoned prison, waiting to be taken to a fully-functioning one. He needed to find out why Jade had been murdered. Eb was right; there was something out of the ordinary about it. The question was how big?
Knox reached Jade Sho’s apartment building in Greenwich Village and pressed a button on the intercom.
“Yeah?”
“My name is Detective Lucas Knox,” he said into the speaker. “Who am I speaking to?
“Walter Loy, the landlord.”
“Mr. Loy, would you let me in please?”
The buzzer went off as the door unlocked. He let himself in and went up to the fifth floor with a briefcase. He expected to encounter cops and another detective, but only one officer stood at the door.
“Hey, Knox,” the officer greeted. “How the hell are you?”
He shook the man’s hand with a half smile. “Officer … Mason, right?”
“Right. I was there at your ceremony at City Hall.”
Dozens of officers had attended that night and many more civilians. Even so, he had a photographic memory and could recognize a person. Mason’s features weren’t so easily forgotten. His bright beady eyes, t
hick jaw, and oversized head were distinctive physical attributes not shared by many.
“Is there anyone else here?”
“Nope, just me. The mayor gave strict orders not to let anyone but you inside.”
That was reassuring. He hated having to dance around cops and other detectives getting in the way of his investigation.
“I’ve got the key,” the officer offered, reaching into his pocket.
Knox knelt down and opened his briefcase, donning a pair of latex gloves as Mason unlocked the door. When he rose, he spotted a Halloween cardboard cut-out of a female ghost dressed in a short red dress and black high-heel shoes, tacked on the door. The words, I’m so bootiful were printed below it. It was lame, but he smiled anyway.
“Is that the victim’s key?”
“Nah, it’s the landlord’s. He let me have it until you came. Why’d you want to come by anyway? What are you looking for?”
“I’m curious about something,” he said, walking inside.
“Curious about what?”
He stopped and turned on Mason. “Get the landlord. I’ll need to talk to him.”
“Uh, don’t you want me to come in with you?” At Knox’s stern expression, Mason said, “Right. I’ll get the landlord then.”
He called out to Mason when he reached the elevator. “You’re the one who arrested Crowe?”
Mason hesitated before answering. “Yeah. Why?”
“I’ll need to question you as well.”
The officer nodded. “Okay.”
Knox closed the door. The building was old and had light switches instead of sensors. He flicked on the switch beside the door. The apartment wasn’t very large. The hall closet was to the immediate right; the kitchen, five steps to the left; the living room, directly ahead; and the bedroom doorway, eight steps down on the right side. He took each step cautiously to the kitchen, keeping his eyes on the hardwood floor. He reached his arm around the doorway and felt for another switch. He flicked it up. When the light came on, he saw a small pool of blood on the floor.
It was the victim’s blood, marking the spot where she’d been killed. Stepping over it, he entered the kitchen and did a quick scan. On the countertop near the stove he found a knife set. There was an empty slot where one of the knives should have been. He slid one of the other knives out to examine it. A stainless steel chef’s knife, identical to the murder weapon. He slid the knife back and studied the block’s position. The back rested against the wall and away from the edge of the counter, surrounded by three glass cookie jars, a toaster, and a Mr. Coffee. Other than the missing knife, nothing on the countertop had been disturbed.
The Warning Page 9