by Mary Stone
“You can come in now, Detective,” one of the first arriving officers said from the doorway, stepping out of her way with a nod. His footsteps were hollow on the front stoop as he took his position just outside the crime scene tape, facing the small crowd that was starting to gather on the street.
The weight of the moment wasn’t lost on Ellie, but she had work to do. She’d been waiting almost an hour to get into the house and have a look around.
The living room had sustained most of the damage, but it was clear as she walked through each room that whoever Steve had struggled with had ransacked every room.
Looking for what?
Was Jacob right about it being another junky looking for Steve’s stash? Or maybe it had been a straight-up robbery. Not as common as people were led to believe, but it was possible that the perp had been looking for money and nothing else.
She scanned the walls and the wood floors, all covered with a thin layer of filth, and shook her head. Unless they knew what Steve did for a living, no one would assume this house hid money. No. This was about Steve. Either the drugs he was selling, or it was about his involvement in the death of Tabitha and Mabel. Ellie was willing to lay money on the latter.
“Detective Kline, you’ll want to see this,” a voice called out from the back of the house.
Following the hallway, she stopped at the last door on the right, where a small group of crime scene techs stood around a computer monitor.
“That looks pretty new,” Ellie commented.
“It’s state-of-the-art.” The tech was excited, her nostrils flared and eyes wide. “But that’s not what I wanted to show you.” She clicked on the mouse with her gloved hand and moved to give Ellie an unobstructed view.
“Fifteen cameras?” Ellie couldn’t help but show her surprise at the multiple screens, all pulled from different sections of the house, both inside and out. “This guy took paranoid to a new level.”
“With good cause,” the tech said. “This is early this morning, about three.”
The crime scene tech clicked on the play icon, and the video started.
A shadow appeared on the doorstep in the form of a person.
Steve opened the door, and even though the video was a little dark, she could see the instant that Steve recognized the man. Steve attempted to shut the door in the man’s face.
But the man was on him in seconds. He grabbed Steve by the arms and stepped inside, kicking the front door shut with his foot.
Another camera picked up the scuffle, in which Steve was clearly outmatched. Holding his hands out in surrender, Steve backed into a corner and sunk to his knees.
“He’s begging for his life,” Ellie said. “That has to be his accomplice.” The man was about the same height as Steve and had a balding hairline, but that was about all she could make out in the darkness of the room.
“They definitely know each other,” the tech said.
The intruder backhanded Steve, and Ellie and the tech winced as one. Steve collapsed in a heap, motionless and twisted at an uncomfortable angle.
“That wouldn’t be enough to kill him,” Ellie said. “But look at him. He’s out cold.”
The tech pointed at the monitor. “Watch this. It gets better.”
The man was quick on his feet, sure of what he was doing. Going from room to room, his every move was caught on the hidden cameras in the darkness, the only light coming in from the windows.
“He’s throwing things around, but he’s not taking anything,” Ellie mused.
“Yep. Our guy wants this to look like a robbery, but he didn’t take a thing. He’s clearly a professional.”
“He looks so calm.” Ellie thought about the man Katarina had described. Someone who was quiet and scary with dead eyes would be this mechanical. “There’s no way this man is a junky or a thief.”
“I noticed the same thing right away. I would lay money he was hired to kidnap our missing person.” The tech struck a single key with a flourish, grinning at Ellie. “And there’s your still-shot of the suspect. I’m guessing he didn’t know about the cameras because he looked right at this one.” It was a full-on front shot of his face.
Ellie held her cell phone up and took a picture. “The quality isn’t that great, but it’s something. And it’s more than I had. What happened to Steve?”
“Unfortunately, the video only shows the man carrying him out to the car. And the cameras only picked up the side panel of the car, and there was no license plate.” She pointed at the frame that covered the street. “For all his paranoia, he missed a prime opportunity to place this camera better.”
“It’s one more roadblock in a case that’s proven to be nothing but obstacles.” Ellie held up her phone. “But this is more than we’ve had to go on since we started. Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me.” The tech laughed. “Thank Steve Garret. If it weren’t for his tech know-how and paranoia, we wouldn’t even have this.”
“True,” Ellie said. “Now, all we have to do is figure out who has Steve.”
“Find anything good?” Jacob asked when Ellie emerged from the house. He was standing on the walk with Duke, outside the boundary made by the crime scene tape. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming out.”
Duke gave a short whine under his breath as if to concur.
She laughed and held out her phone to show him the picture. “Just this. It’s not much.”
“Send that to me, and I’ll get a BOLO sent out.”
“Thanks,” she said, getting in his car and sending the picture to his cell phone.
“Where to now?” he asked as he loaded Duke up.
“PD. I want to run this man’s picture through facial recognition and see if I get a hit. It’s a longshot, but it’s better than no shot.”
“Any idea where Steve Garret ended up?”
“No clue. He was knocked out when the man took him out of the house. The camera didn’t pick up the rest. We don’t even know if he put him in the trunk. The officers are going to question the neighbors, but Steve’s neighbors aren’t exactly the type that will care either way.”
Jacob chuckled. “That is true.” Jacob fell silent until he pulled up at the police department and parked, giving her a long look across the front seat of the cruiser. “I know you don’t need one more person in your life telling you to be careful, but Ellie, please be careful. My gut is telling me that there’s more to this than there appears.”
“Mine too.”
“Good. Don’t let your guard down.”
She gave him a soft smile, glad at least that, even though Jacob was worried, he wouldn’t try to stop her. “I won’t.”
His lips were tight when he nodded, and she could tell that he was really worried. But she couldn’t abandon the case, whether she was in danger or not. The women’s murders ate away at her every moment of the day, and there was no way she could rest until she found the man who’d taken an unconscious Steve Garret from his home in the dead of night. Finding him would be vital to unraveling the case.
She could feel it.
28
Ellie groaned as the pictures flashing across the computer screen slowed then stopped. No Match flashed on the screen once, then hung there in bold red letters, taunting her.
“I guess it wouldn’t be fun if this case didn’t have a great new lead that led nowhere,” Jillian grumbled sarcastically. “An email came across right before you walked in with a ‘Be On the Lookout’ so hopefully someone will see our Mr. Garret and pick him up.”
“Could we be that lucky?” Ellie took a sip of her soda.
“Probably not.”
“Kline, a moment,” Fortis said from the doorway.
Ellie almost startled but caught herself in time. “I guess you heard about my person of interest on the case.”
“No, I hadn’t. Did you get a name?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?” Fortis ground the words out impatiently. “Did you run h
im through facial recognition?”
“I did.” She flicked her eyes back to the computer screen and felt herself wilt a tiny bit. Damn it.
“Let me guess—more of nothing.”
Ellie grimaced.
“Look, I’m not here to bust your chops about the cold case. I’ve got two out with the flu today and another looking like hell. I need you to take a case. Cut and dry, out on Rivers Avenue, in the woods. Homeless man found him, probably an overdose.”
“Is it suspicious? Homeless people overdosing in the woods there happens all the time.”
“Kline, look.” Fortis pursed his lips, frowning at her. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s an open and shut case. You just have to be there to make sure all the evidence is collected in case the medical examiner comes back with something different than OD. You don’t have to take anyone with you.”
“All right,” she said.
He handed her a set of keys. “Don’t wreck it.”
“I can’t take my own car?” She kept her palm open, as if the key was contaminated. She hated to think what cruiser would be used as an extra. Probably one that smelled like vomit.
“Not in that neighborhood.”
She used the opportunity, wondering if her wish came true she would be given a moped instead of a sedan since her desk had been stuffed in the basement instead of the department office. “Maybe you should assign me an unmarked car.”
“We don’t have any extras. This is the one we use when the others are in the shop. It’s a little dated, but it gets the job done.”
She grimaced. “Does it have shag carpet?”
“Not anymore.” Fortis grinned. “I had it parked next to your car. It’s kind of a greenish color. Call me if you have any problems. When you’re done with this one, you can get started on that list.”
She decided not to argue with him. “I’ll let you know when I get back.”
“You don’t have to do that. Just put your report on my desk when you’re done.” He hesitated in the doorway, his eyes showing an emotion she couldn’t quite place. “And I thought you’d want to know right away, the DNA results came back. Tabitha Baker and Mabel Vicente were positively identified.”
Her breath caught, and it was like the weight of the world was lifted. She wanted to shout with joy and cry at the same time. But Fortis was still standing in front of her, waiting. She swallowed back the tears that welled up suddenly. “Thank you, sir.”
He nodded and left her sitting at her desk with the keyring hanging from her finger.
She jumped up from her chair, and Jillian shot her wide smile as she grabbed her purse and went out the side door to the parking lot. She froze. A seventies-era moss-green Ford sedan was parked beside her car. With chrome in places she had forgotten cars could have chrome, it resembled something her grandfather would have driven, if her grandfather hadn’t driven a Cadillac.
“He wasn’t joking,” she muttered to herself. “At least I’ll be safely encased in metal.” The door hinges creaked loudly, and when she sat on the velour seat and pulled the door shut, it fell back open. Gripping the handle with both hands, she pulled with all her might, slamming it closed so hard the car rocked. “Geez Louise. This is the reward I get for identifying the victims of my first case? I’d hate to see what the prize will be when I solve it.”
The steering wasn’t any better, but the engine was quieter than she’d expected and had a response that she had to admit she loved. She arrived at the scene in no time, having burned more gas than her car would in a week. Guiding the behemoth off the road and onto the hardpacked dirt, she parked near the coroner’s van and got out after she switched shoes.
“We’re waiting on your say to move the body,” the coroner said, looking impatient.
“How long has it been there?”
“A couple hours at most. Rigor is just starting to set in, located primarily in the neck and face at this point.” He checked his watch. “I’d say about two hours based on that and body temp, but it’s hard to tell.” He looked up at the sky. “Weather’s been warm to cold, plus the rain, and rigor can start setting in as early as one hour.”
“It’s all right,” she assured him. “I know figuring out the time of death in the field isn’t as easy as the TV makes it look.”
He grinned and took a pen from his pocket. “Sign here, please. And congrats on the promotion.”
She flashed him a smile and signed her name, giving the clipboard back. “Thanks. Where is the body?”
“Straight through there against a tree.” He gestured toward the tree line. “There’s an officer watching the other residents of the homeless camp.”
“Thanks.” She picked her way over the uneven ground and sidestepped around withering vines that crept across the path before spotting the very young officer standing with his arms resting on his belt, looking in every direction except the body.
“You can head to the road if you want,” she told him. “I’ll only be a minute.”
He was gone so fast, he was little more than a blur of uniform blues.
Ellie smiled in sympathy, and carefully went to the corpse leaning against the tree. The man’s hair was matted and wet from the rain they’d had earlier in the day. Other than his skin being unnaturally pale and the needle still sticking out of his arm, he looked like he was sleeping. Except, the weight of his head had turned his face downward, his joints having gone so slack that his neck was bent at an awkward angle no living person would be able to sleep through.
Careful not to move the body, Ellie crouched down and used one gloved hand to move the hair away from the man’s face. Steve Garret’s lifeless eyes stared back at her, blue lips lax, and the beginnings of a bruise where the mystery man had punched him in the face.
“This was no overdose,” Ellie muttered.
“What?” the coroner said, body bag in hand and a stretcher held between him and his assistant.
“This wasn’t an overdose,” she repeated, louder and even more certain this time.
“How can you be sure?” He squinted at the man against the tree.
“I know this man.” Ellie stood and spread her feet wide in a stance that said she wasn’t going anywhere until this was treated as a homicide investigation. “He didn’t shoot up, and I have evidence of foul play that I can’t discuss right now.”
The coroner assessed Ellie, then the corpse, an annoyed expression on his face. “But he’s got a needle hanging out of his arm.”
“You’re right, but I think it’s staged. He does cocaine. I just talked to this man the other day. No marks on his arms.”
“I didn’t look for signs of older marks yet.”
“Don’t worry about it. If I didn’t know this man, I would’ve thought the same. That’s why we investigate every suspicious death.” She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “We’re going to need a crime scene team out here. Can you call it in? My radio is in the car.”
The coroner stared at her, and when he nodded, the men turned back the way they’d come.
Ellie looked around her feet, careful to step where she’d already left footprints. As she was scanning the soft layer of dirt that had already dried from the light rain earlier in the day, a pair of prints caught her eye. The toes were facing the body, but it wasn’t just that. The impressions were deep, as if the person had stood there for quite a while, and the soles seemed to be in perfect condition.
A quick once over of the area confirmed that her suspicions were correct. All the prints that appeared to be from curious onlookers were farther back, and the impressions left by their soles showed signs of excessive wear. Only one set of prints was different, and that set went into the woods on a path.
Hand resting on the butt of her gun, she took off at a slow lope, careful to run beside the prints and never on them. The trail narrowed but was still wide enough for two people even when the woods got so dense that she could no longer hear the traffic sounds from the street beyond. She hesitated
, but when she looked back over her shoulder and saw how far she’d come, she pressed on.
You’ve got this, she told herself. She would not be afraid.
It was one man, and she had the element of surprise.
The trees thinned then dropped away, the path leading to a street. Ellie tried to follow the muddy footprints, but the asphalt had been washed clean by the rain. There were no houses on the street and only a handful of buildings. Wherever the man was, he was long gone.
“Damn it,” she said under her breath.
Undeterred, she set off down the road and across the street, pushing open the door of a print shop and walking up to the counter. “Did you see anyone come out of the woods over there about an hour or two ago? It could’ve been up to four hours ago.”
The man stared back at her, eyes heavy with boredom. “You’ll have to be more specific. Junkies stumble out of the woods all the time. It’s a quiet place to get a fix.”
“Okay, but this man wouldn’t be stumbling.” She showed him the photo on her phone.
He chortled. “I mean, come on. I can’t see anything on that.”
“White male, mid-thirties, muscled but not big, balding.”
“Lady, you just described half of Charleston.”
She leaned against the counter, waving the phone. “Please look again. This is important.”
“I’m sure it is. But I didn’t see nothing, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop scaring away my paying customers.”
She looked out the front of the store at the empty street and the parking lot without a single car in sight. “What customers?” She turned back just as the office door closed and locked behind the man. “Great,” she muttered, pushing out the door and heading toward the next business, grateful she’d had the foresight to change into her running shoes.
The motel was one of those pay by the hour joints. Commonly referred to as a no-tell motel, it looked every bit the part. Even in the light of day, it was seedy looking. She shuddered at the mental image of a bug-infested pigsty so cheap the ten-dollar-an-hour hookers wouldn’t bat an eye at sharing the space with more than just the Johns.