by Jenifer Ruff
“I was with him for less than two hours. I came back here after. My roommate can vouch for that. She’s at work right now, but I’ll give you her number.”
Rivera jotted down the contact information for Olivia’s roommate on his pad. “Did you know Todd well?”
“No. Not really.”
“Had you ever met him before?”
Olivia looked down at her bare feet, trailed a pink fingernail across her ankle and under a delicate gold anklet.
“We’re trying to find a killer,” Victoria said. “We’re not here to bust anyone for . . . anything else.”
She lifted her chin, dipping her head back. “I’m just concerned, worried really, that I might know something I shouldn’t know.” She sighed. “But I don’t think so. So—yes, I’ve met him before. A few times. Same place.”
“The Vista View Hotel.”
Olivia set her elbow on the arm of the couch and rested her chin in her hand. “Yes. The one next to the rail road tracks.”
Victoria’s and Rivera’s eyes met. Victoria’s body stiffened. “Isn’t the Vista View near the shopping mall? I don’t think there are any railroad tracks around it.” Her voice took on a new, quiet intensity. “Olivia, is there a chance that you met Todd Meiser at the Sonesta Hotel, not the Vista View?”
“Oh. Yes.” Olivia grimaced and tugged on the silver earring dangling from her ear. “Sorry. I do mean the Sonesta. The one with the big blue sign. It’s not very nice.”
For Victoria, the energy in the room completely changed. She wanted to jump up and pump her fist in the air. It was a challenge to maintain her composure. “Did Todd tell you the name he used to check in?”
Olivia allowed herself a slight smile that didn’t last long. “He used the name Jason Bourne.”
Victoria nodded, but inside she was beaming. One more unknown hotel guest was now accounted for. “At the Sonesta Hotel, did you see anyone speaking to him, or watching him? Anything that seemed unusual or made you uncomfortable?”
“Well, yes, actually, there was something. Todd arrived before me. He planned to meet me at the back entrance and let me in. I was almost at the back door when a woman ran out. She looked angry, although she might have been afraid, it seemed more like anger. And I think she was crying. A man followed right after her. He yelled, ‘Come back here. You don’t understand.’ Something to that effect. Todd saw them too. Before the door closed, and even after, we could hear them fighting behind the hotel.”
“Do you know what they were fighting about? Could you hear them?”
“I could hear that they were upset, but I couldn’t tell you what it was about.”
“And you didn’t call the police?”
Olivia shrugged. “No. It didn’t seem necessary. People argue. Their argument just made its way into the parking lot. Besides, I had business to attend to. I had an exam to study for after. At first, I thought about going to see if she needed help. But she was yelling just as loud as he was. It was awful, but it seemed like a domestic affair. Not anyone else’s business. And it didn’t last long.”
“How long?”
“Oh . . . I remember. A train went by. The train runs so close to that hotel, it literally shakes the walls and blasts its horn the whole time. I don’t know how anyone sleeps there at night. The sound of the train and its horn drowned out the fight. After the train passed, I don’t remember hearing anyone.”
“And you didn’t see the couple again?”
“I did not.”
“Can you describe them?”
“Oh . . . gosh.” Olivia rolled her eyes up to the ceiling then back down, settling her gaze on Rivera. “He was an average guy, a little scruffy, not someone who takes great care of himself. He had dark hair, I think. And she was sort of pale, washed out.”
“What color hair did she have?” Victoria asked.
“Hmm . . . blonde?”
Victoria pushed Olivia’s candle toward the opposite end of the table and set out copies of their sketches. “Does this woman look familiar?”
Olivia set her feet on the ground and scooted forward. “In this picture with her hair down, that could be the same woman I saw. She might have looked like that. But I’m not sure. She rushed by me.”
“Anything else you can think of?”
She shook her head. “Sorry.”
Victoria set out photos of the victims. “Did you see any of these other people?”
Olivia took her time studying the photos. “I’m sorry. I’ve never seen them before.”
“Okay. Do you know if Todd had a girlfriend, particularly one with medium-length or long blonde hair?”
She smiled. “That’s not something I would ask him.”
Victoria and Rivera exchanged glances in a subtle, practiced way to see if either had more questions to ask. Rivera stood up and Victoria followed.
“So, I’m all good. You’re going to call my roommate?”
“Yes. Thank you for your time.” Victoria handed Olivia her business card.
Olivia placed the card on the coffee table and stood up with them. “Todd was nice to me. I hope you find out who killed him. I hope you catch the person who killed all these people.”
So do we, thought Victoria, walking toward the front door.
“Rivera,” Olivia called, her voice soft.
Both agents stopped and turned around.
Olivia dropped her head in a coquettish pose so only her eyes looked up at him from under her long, dark lashes. “That train isn’t the only thing that can shake the walls.”
He smiled. “I bet it isn’t.” Then he turned and walked out the door.
Once outside, Victoria laughed. “Guess she isn’t concerned that you’re with the FBI.”
“Guess not.” A red tint crept over his face.
“Looks like she’s putting herself through college. Whatever she’s doing must pay more than working retail.”
“That’s what they tell themselves, isn’t it?”
Victoria nudged Rivera’s arm. “It appears to be her choice. I like her. And I like that she appreciates you. And if her alibis all check out, it doesn’t look like she is involved in any of our cases.”
Rivera rubbed the back of his neck. “Now we know that all the victims were staying at the same hotel. The Sonesta is the key to all of this. We got off track because Meiser happened to be a witness in the Butler trial. From the very beginning of all this, you’ve been saying his death didn’t look like a hit.”
“Thank you for pointing that out, I’ll take the credit.” She smiled. “Let’s go back there now, to the hotel. I’m surprised Sam didn’t find issues with any of the staff. No criminal records and each of them has an alibi for at least some of the murders.”
“Maybe they’re all in on it together.”
“Hmm. No grievances against the hotel owners. No pending lawsuits. But there has to be something.”
On the way to their car, Victoria opened her bag and felt her keys in an inner pocket. “We’re not far from the office. If you don’t mind stopping there, I’ll get my own car. The hotel is sort of on the way to my place. Then you can just take this car home after. I mean, if we have a chance to go home tonight.”
Rivera nodded as he opened his door. “I don’t think you should go home alone.”
“I know. Agent Lampros was at my house last night. I feel terrible that he had to stay up because of me. I brought him muffins and coffee when I left the house. I hope someone else gets stuck with the job tonight.” Victoria sat and fastened her seat belt. “Oh. I almost forgot. Again. I need to make a quick call.” For the first time, she was anxious about calling Ned. Since she’d interrupted his date, she was worried about what she might hear. She pressed a few buttons on her phone and waited. “Hi. I need you to come by tonight and stay a few hours.”
“Sure thing. Oh. Are we still on for dinner tomorrow?”
The dinner was only to discuss their trip. That’s all it ever was. So why did it seem like everythin
g had changed? “I’m sorry. Can we reschedule the dinner?”
“You have to eat something tomorrow night. I can meet you wherever.”
Victoria sighed. “There’s just a lot going on. I doubt I’m going to be able to go, or that I’m going to be very good company if I can make it.”
“The news says it’s five murders now.”
“Yes. The whole city is working on catching the perpetrator, it’s not just me.” Victoria set her free hand on the door frame, gripping the edge. “Although, my team is supposed to be leading the efforts. I’ll keep you posted. I mean, you’ll know when I’m free because I won’t be begging you to come to my house.”
“It’s what you pay me for.”
“Right. But thank you. How are the new little ones doing?”
“They’re doing fine. One of them is a little wary of the big boys, but they’re holding their own. No worries. Is someone coming to get them soon?”
“I haven’t heard anything yet. To be honest, I forgot. We’ll give them a few days and then I guess I’ll follow up with the family to see what their plan is. Thanks, Ned. I’m very grateful. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Good luck and . . . be careful.”
“I will.”
Rivera wove through the rush hour traffic. “You had a dinner date with your dog walker?”
Victoria slid against the door as Rivera hung a right without slowing the car. “Hey, slow down. Nothings on fire.” She laughed. “I’m not really sure it was a date. And had is the operative word.”
“You have stuff in common with this guy? Besides dogs?”
Victoria shrugged. “I guess that’s what I might have found out. It wasn’t a real date or anything. We had business to discuss. But it probably wasn’t a good idea.”
“Really. Huh.” Rivera turned on the radio and zipped in front of a slower moving car. He grabbed for his gum, dumped a few pieces into his hand, then slapped them into his mouth. “So, taking care of your dogs—is that Ned’s only job?”
“It is now. It’s a lot of work. Especially when I’m out of town. You’ve heard of concierge doctors? Well, he’s like that, except I’m his only client. And it’s not me he’s taking care of.”
“What did he do before you hired him? Do you know?”
Victoria opened her eyes wide and stared at Rivera for several seconds, then laughed. “Of course I know. You think I would let a stranger into my house to take care of the dogs without vetting him every which way and a few more? Jeez. You know me better than to ask that. I did a comprehensive background check.”
“So what did he do?”
“Ned is a veterinarian. He was just a year out of vet school when he moved here. He started his own practice but didn’t have enough clients to make ends meet. He has some hefty school loans. That’s how I managed to get him. Okay, dad?” She sighed. “I’ve got enough people questioning my personal decisions already.”
“Hey, you have a serial killer suddenly very interested in you. Strange notes left on corpses and strange footprints on your property. Your security cameras weren’t working the other night. Time to rethink everyone and everything.”
Victoria lowered her eyes and her voice. “Yeah. Okay. I get it. You’re right.”
Rivera moved his hand toward the center of the car. She thought he was about to reach for her own, but then he dropped it back on the wheel. “I want you to be safe more than I want to be right.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Two loose ends remained: Jason and Kelly Smith.
They were gone.
I wasn’t fast enough.
Beth had their home address. They had seen her close up, not once, but twice. Just like Todd Meiser had seen her inside the hotel. His name hadn’t been listed with the other hotel occupants, but she recognized him immediately when she traced his Range Rover’s license plate to a registration, then to a photo of him.
First things first. She had to get rid of Horrigan’s truck in case they found his body. She turned into the shopping center where she’d first tried to kill the happy-go-lucky singing Smiths. The Walmart parking lot was bustling with cars. She parked the pick-up and hopped on a nearby bus to the airport where she rented a car with the last of her “borrowed” credit cards and fake IDs. She was grateful she had them, but worried about having run out of alternate identities and sources of payment.
She returned to the Vista Hotel. She didn’t want to stay there too much longer on Sylvia Malone’s newly opened credit card. There was more than one way to end up in prison. But she couldn’t go home either. Not with Danny still hounding her.
Inside her hotel room, she pulled a blanket off the closet shelf and wrapped it around her shoulders. The news reports would be starting in a matter of seconds. Plopping onto the pull-out couch, she clicked on the television and found one of the major networks. She bit her lip through a car dealership commercial. A drug commercial for a disease she’d never heard of came next. She chewed on her nails through the long, ridiculous list of side-effects. When the music signaling the news started, she lowered her hand, staring intently at the female newscaster sitting behind the studio desk.
“Breaking news. Another murder committed by someone the police are now calling the Numbers Killer. What are authorities doing to prevent someone else from falling victim? Stay with Channel 14 for the latest.”
The other reporter went through his list of what was to come, but Beth tuned him out.
“What? How could they know about my counting? Danny must have told them!”
She jumped up, pacing the length of the room and back. Two, four, six, eight . . . two, four six, eight . . . She grabbed a water bottle off the dresser and gulped from it. The newscaster had sensationalized the murders, like Beth was some crazed killer going after people with no rhyme or reason, and no one was safe. She laughed, quick and sharp. Her amusement didn’t last long. Danny had betrayed her. To hell with him. She didn’t need him. Had she ever? No!
She needed to turn her new-found notoriety and skills into money. Maybe she should contact Raymond Butler and collect a little reward for her efforts? After all, as she now understood, she had inadvertently done him quite a favor. He owed her. But what did she have to hold over him? The deed was done, it wasn’t like she could threaten to bring Meiser back to life if the Butlers didn’t pay. Perhaps Butler could offer her a job, before he was carted off to jail. Not everyone could hack into an FBI agents’ video camera feeds and shut them down. Not everyone could hack into hotel registries and the DMV, matching hotel guests to their rooms and cars. It might have been relatively simple, if some of them hadn’t used fake names. She was pretty amazing and deserved a job with a guaranteed paycheck every week. That would be nice for a change.
The news report returned, jolting Beth back to attention. The tall brunette woman she’d seen earlier on TV spoke from an outside location.
“The violent killing spree that began yesterday morning with Todd Meiser now includes Robert and Anne Cossman, and Arnold Gomez. Channel 14 news just learned that all the victims had numbers written on their foreheads.”
Oh. Of course! That’s why they’re calling me the Numbers Killer. She laughed with relief. Danny hadn’t told anyone about her counting compulsion after all.
The camera view drew back, revealing the parking lot where Beth had left Gomez to die.
“Then, just yesterday afternoon, Arnold Gomez, also visiting the area, was murdered here at the Hampshire Apartments, where he was visiting his nephew. Police say the killer wrote the number six on Gomez’ forehead, after he was shot. None of the other victims appear to have any connection to Raymond Butler and the trial that starts in just a few days. But the numbers appear to correspond with the order in which the victims were killed.”
Hmm. No mention of Horrigan and his ugly fish shirt because she’d forgotten to write something on his head. But wait . . . That was a good thing! They couldn’t know it was her that killed him. Grinning, she focused on the news.
“Channel 14 will stay on top of the investigation as authorities track down the killer. If the numbers really do represent the order in which the victims were killed—.” The reporter frowned, like she was the one who had to solve these crimes, not Agent Heslin and Agent Rivera, “—where are victims number one and five?”
Victim number one? Beth’s knees shook, and the room spun. What’s happening to me? She reached for the wall to brace herself. Fear spiked her adrenaline and she desperately wished she wasn’t alone. Being alone made her situation so much more frightening. Where was Danny when she needed him? She fought the wave of nausea rising from her stomach, dropping her head into her hands. She managed to lower herself to the floor before she fell unconscious.
The news was still playing when she woke up. Lifting her head off the carpet, she rubbed her forehead. The nausea had passed, but her ears throbbed with the onset of a headache. She dragged her purse off the desk and onto the floor. Removing the gun first, she rummaged through the mess of useless junk in search of aspirin. Where the hell is it? The bottle wasn’t there, but her fingers closed around two lint covered pills at the bottom of her bag. Those would have to do. She trudged off to the bathroom to wash them down with water, then returned to the television.
“Channel 14 News has just learned that the Numbers Killer left a threatening note for an FBI agent at the murder scene of Arnold Gomez.”
“What?” Beth sat up, gasping. “A threatening note? No. No. No. I would never do that.” Her hands flew up to cover her mouth. “I didn’t threaten her! How could they think that? I was trying to protect her. I told her to be careful. I told her to watch her back!” She slumped against the wall, tearing at her hair. This was awful! How could she have been so misunderstood?
She had to see Agent Heslin and clear up the terrible misunderstanding. It couldn’t wait another second. But how? How could she get to her with those crazy dogs guarding her mansion?
Squatting on the floor next to the coffee table, she woke up her laptop. Waiting on the hotel’s internet service was like watching grass grow, but within fifteen minutes she had intercepted the feed going from Agent Heslin’s home to the security firm who monitored her videos. This time, instead of shutting them down, she watched.