by Karen Rose
“Maybe he kept his kit. No sign of syringes or spoons anywhere.”
“And you have to heat the oxy to get it to dissolve in water so you can inject it,” Olivia said. “Whoever hit these guys with a needle did it right.” She opened drawers, frowning. “No cell, no laptop.”
“None in the other room either. Next stop, the university’s registrar’s office. They’ll have Albert’s address. Can’t be too many Alberts on the hockey team.”
“We still need to find Mary, though. Grumpy Early next door said she and Joel came here together to study, with rolled-up paper—the blueprints. She’s in on this.”
“And,” Noah said, “if Albert’s killing off his cohorts, she could be next.”
“I’m thinking she can give us the connection to Tomlinson and Dorian Blunt. Those fires still make no sense unless the first one was just a cover and they were planning something bigger all along.”
“Or like you and Dr. Donahue said yesterday—different agendas. Somebody left glass balls at the first two fires, but not the third. An environmentalist agenda links fires one and two. But Tomlinson links fires two and three.”
Olivia bit at her lip. “Joel was dead before fire two. Micki said there were three people. Albert was there, because he’s the only one tall enough to whack Weems in the head. Joel was there because we’ve got smoke in his lungs and glue in his shoes.”
Noah opened Eric’s closet. “Whoa, this kid spent some serious money on clothes.” He crouched down and a moment later stood, a running shoe in his hand. “Glue. They must not have known they tracked through it, or they’d have gotten rid of the shoes, too.”
“So Eric was also there. That’s three. Kenny said Austin saw a guy getting into a boat off the dock. That’s four. Was Albert the guy at the dock? He shot Weems?”
And Kane. A spurt of fury shot up inside her, but then Olivia frowned. Something wasn’t right, didn’t fit. “One set of glue tracks at the fence where they got away, no glue on the dock side of the condo, so neither Eric nor Joel walked over there. Let’s assume Joel wanted to change his mind and Albert whacked him, too. Could Eric have carried Joel away on his own, leaving none of Joel’s tracks behind while Albert ran around the building to escape off the dock, shooting Weems on the way?”
Noah studied Eric’s body. “He’s pretty skinny. He might have been able to haul Joel, especially if he was scared. But it makes more sense that Albert carried him out, especially since he whacked him.”
“Mary wasn’t on the dock, because Austin saw a man. Maybe it was Albert on the dock and Mary helped Eric carry Joel away.”
“Maybe, maybe. Let’s find Albert and Mary and get something solid.”
Wednesday, September 22, 12:30 p.m.
Austin hung back in the shadows in the alley beside the library. From here he could see any car coming in from the street and at his back was a chain-link fence, eight feet tall, so no one would sneak up from behind.
It was as safe as he was going to get under the circum-stances.
He held his breath, although his gut told him what was about to happen. The library was almost a mile from the school. For Kenny to make it here by 12:30, he’d have to cut the last ten minutes of his third-period English class. And old lady McMann did not give bathroom passes. Ever. Chances that Kenny was coming? Close to nil.
A white van pulled into the parking lot and a man got out and walked by Austin’s mom’s car. Frozen where he stood, Austin’s eyes fixed on the face of the man who’d shot that guard, who’d set the fire that killed Tracey. When he moved, his jacket shifted and Austin could see the glint of metal. He had a gun. The gun he’d used on the guard.
The man looked around again, his face red and furious, then started walking again.
This way. He’s coming this way. Oh God. What do I do?
Run. But there was nowhere to go and he had only a dull souvenir knife in his pocket. Don’t move. Do not move.
The man stopped abruptly, got back in his van and drove away.
Austin slumped against the brick wall, trembling. What made the man leave? He needed to find the cops. But he was afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. Afraid the man was waiting on the street for him to emerge from his hiding place.
Hands shaking, Austin opened his phone, found the text from Captain Bruce Abbott. It’s Austin, he typed. I need help. He hit SEND.
In seconds he got a reply. Where are you?
He hesitated, then figured at least the cops wouldn’t shoot him. Library near school.
I’ll have an officer there in two minutes. Do not leave. Please.
Two minutes was too long. The man would be back, Austin knew. He’d park his van and come back on foot. He opened the text from the fake Kenny and typed a fake reply. Cops came. Had to run. Hiding behind Swindoll’s. Swindoll’s was an Italian ice shop, six blocks away in the other direction. Please come fast. Scared.
In a moment the man with the gun replied. Okay. Stay there.
Two men in dark suits ran by, one with a radio in his hand. Cops. They’d scared the man away. Legs like rubber, Austin walked into the sunlight.
“Help,” he cried, hoping they’d understand. The two suits wheeled around and ran back toward him. Austin fell to his knees behind a stranger’s car, huddled over so that he was hidden from the road. “He’s coming,” he signed, trying to say the words clearly, but his heart was beating so hard and his tongue wouldn’t work. “He’ll see me. He has a white van.”
One of the men ran off, the other giving him a nod before lifting his eyes to watch the road. They’d understood. A minute later a dark car drove up and he was bundled in the backseat where he cowered out of sight. Peeking over the backseat, he saw a cruiser pull up, lights flashing. The two men in suits were talking to the two cops.
“Hey,” Austin said and mimicked writing. One of the suits gave him paper and pen.
He was here, Austin wrote quickly. He saw you and left. I txt him that I ran to Swindoll’s. He handed the paper back to the suit and pointed toward Swindoll’s.
The suit motioned for Austin to stay down, then spoke to the other men before leaning against his car and writing a reply. He passed the paper back to Austin.
Why did you meet him here?
Austin sighed. He said he was my friend Kenny, he wrote. Said you wanted to arrest me. Didn’t know who to trust. I figured I’d bring him here, see if it was Kenny, but it wasn’t. It was the man who shot the guard. Wearily he passed the paper back.
The man in the suit made a call on his cell phone, then said something in his radio. He proceeded to write in the book for a long time, then handed it back.
I’m Detective Phelps. You’re safe now. Keep your head down. We think this man has a police scanner in his van. Your friend Kenny saw it last night when the man grabbed him. We put out on the radio that we found your car but that you escaped. We want that white van to keep looking for you so we can find him. So stay down and don’t use your phone again. When we get to the precinct, we’ll get an interpreter.
Austin’s pounding heart started to slow down. What about my mom? he wrote.
My captain will contact her and tell her you’re safe. We’ll bring her here.
Austin let himself relax a little. For now he was safe, but that man was still out there. How will the cops know to look for him? And where is Kenny? he wrote, then passed the book back.
We have a special radio frequency for this case. Kenny’s in a safe house. I’ll be back in a minute. Keep your head down. The detective gave him the notebook, then held out his hand to take it back when Austin had read what he’d written. Then he disappeared, leaving Austin to hope like hell he’d done the right thing.
He turned down his scanner. The cops had seen the kid’s car, dammit, but the kid had given them the slip. The whole neighborhood was suddenly crawling with cops, who after last night would be looking for a white van.
“Now what?” he muttered aloud. The kid was on foot, he couldn’t have gone far. He d
rove past the ice-cream shop slowly, courtesy of the drivers in front of him who were rubbernecking. No kid. He kept going, past the school, stopping in a grocery parking lot. There were so many vans parked here that his vehicle wouldn’t stick out.
He’d started walking, looking for the kid, when another text came through. Different phone, other pocket. It was from the phone he’d given Eric, now controlled by Albert.
Fuck you, it read. There was an attachment. Opening it, he found himself staring at the picture on his small telephone screen. This day was not getting any better.
Chapter Twenty-four
Wednesday, September 22, 1:00 p.m.
They shouldn’t have wasted their time with the registrar, Olivia thought grimly. Albert’s dorm hadn’t been very hard to find at all. It would be the one with all the police cars and the rescue squad in front. “I have a bad feeling about this,” she said.
“Let’s hurry before they touch anything,” Noah said, already jogging.
A uniformed officer waited in the small sitting area of Albert’s dorm suite. “Body’s in the back bedroom. Roommate found him.” The officer pointed to a young man who stood to one side, his face pale. “He says he didn’t touch anything.”
“We’d appreciate it if you could talk to us,” Noah said to the kid. “Stay here, okay?”
“Dammit,” Olivia muttered when she stood in the doorway. A twin bed was situated against one wall and Albert’s large body dominated it. He lay on his back, much as Eric had, nude. A paramedic was kneeling on the floor next to him, packing up his kit.
“He’s dead, Detective,” the paramedic said. “ME can tell you for sure, but at least for a few hours. Looks like he took too many.” He pointed to the nightstand, where there was a small plastic baggie with a few pills remaining inside. “Percocet.”
Emotions churned inside her—frustration, but mostly impotent rage. Albert and Eric had hurt so many, but they’d never stand for their crimes.
Pushing the rage aside, she bent to study Albert’s pelvis, earning her a stare from the medic. “Right there,” she said. “Same needle hole as the others. Sonofabitch.”
“There’s a note on the desk,” the medic said. “Next to the printer.”
“But no laptop or cell phone,” Noah observed. “Big surprise. No signature on the note. It’s in French. Starts with Adieu. Ends in mon ami. The rest I don’t know.”
“My French is rusty,” the medic said, “but it’s basically ‘Good-bye cruel world. Soon I will be with you, my love.’ I guess you don’t buy the whole love-gone- sour suicide?”
“No,” Olivia said flatly. “We’ll take it from here, thanks.”
“And then there was one,” Noah murmured when the medic was gone.
Olivia looked at Noah grimly. “Mary killed them all?”
“She’s the only one left. Let’s talk to Albert’s roommate, but if he doesn’t know Mary, we’ll work the dorms to see who signed Joel in for visits.”
The roommate was visibly shaken, so Olivia gentled her voice. “I’m Detective Sutherland and this is Detective Webster. What’s your name?”
“B-Bill. Bill Westmoreland.”
“Did you know Albert well?” she asked him gently.
“No. He didn’t stay here very often. He had a relationship with a guy named Eric. Engineering major. Eric’s dad is loaded. He has his own place. Albert flopped there.”
“Did you ever see him with anyone else? Any girls?”
“Sure, sometimes. Not lately.”
“Were you here all morning?” Noah asked and Bill shook his head.
“I’ve got class at nine. He was here when I left. He’s been here a lot the last few days. I think he and Eric had a fight.”
“What makes you say that?” Olivia asked.
“Albert normally ignored me, but the last few days he’s been upset. I heard him Monday, no words, just his tone. He was angry. I stay out of his way when he’s angry.”
“Was he violent?” Olivia asked and Bill shrugged.
“Never hit me, but there were a few times I thought he might.”
“Did he know anyone named Mary?” Noah asked and Bill shook his head.
“When did you get back from class today?” Olivia asked.
“About eleven-thirty. His bedroom door was wide open. At first I was like, dude, put on some clothes, and then I saw he wasn’t breathing, so I called 911, then the RA.”
Olivia stood. “Thanks for your help. Is there anywhere you can stay?”
“I have a friend with a place,” he said. “I have an exam in two hours. This sucks.”
“I think maybe this’ll get you a makeup,” Noah said. “The officer will help you pack a bag. Not that we don’t trust you, it’s just procedure.”
Bill’s eyes narrowed, understanding dawning for the first time and with it a flare of fear. “He didn’t kill himself. Oh my God. He was murdered. Here, in my room.”
“We’re investigating,” Noah said calmly. “For now, don’t talk to the press. Please.”
Bill’s eyes flickered again, this time with canny greed. “Of course not.”
Out in the hallway, Olivia rolled her eyes. “Let’s find Mary before she reads her name on Yahoo! We need to update Abbott.”
Noah called Abbott while Olivia gave the first responder instructions. When they got in the elevator, Noah looked relieved. “They found Austin. They’re bringing him in.”
“Where’s he been?”
“Abbott hasn’t talked to him yet. He’ll call us when he has more. Said they weren’t going to announce he’s been found just yet, so we should keep it quiet. Abbott also wanted to know if Tracey Mullen’s mother ever got here from Florida.”
“I need to check my messages. I’ll do it when we’re outside. I got no bars in this elevator.” Which moved in slow-mo. The elevator finally reached the ground and they stopped at the receptionist’s desk.
“Visitors have to sign in and I make a copy of their licenses,” the receptionist said. “Students swipe their ID card. Here’s everyone who’s been through in the last week.”
It was a thick printout that made Olivia’s eyes cross. “Can you check for a name? Joel Fischer?”
The receptionist typed, then shook her head. “Didn’t come in here.”
They thanked her and went outside into the sun. “I’ll get a couple of sandwiches from the food truck,” Noah said. “You check your messages.”
He jogged off to one of the silver food trucks and she listened to her messages. Paige. Paige again. Mia, three times. She’d heard about Kane and was coming to Minnesota. Olivia felt a tiny piece of her settle. Mia would understand. She’d lost a partner herself, years ago.
The last message was from David. Her eyes narrowed as she listened, saving his message just as Noah returned. She took one of the sandwiches he offered and made herself take a bite while turning back to Albert’s dorm, walking fast. “We got a last name on Mary. Mary O’Reilly. Let’s see if that nice receptionist can locate her for us.”
Noah was frowning. “Where did you get the last name?”
“From David, on my voice mail. And no, I don’t know how he knew. I suspect we don’t want to know. I’ll call him back in a few minutes. Let’s find Mary first.”
Noah sighed. “Eve’s got class all morning. She’s not involved, as far as I know.”
“That Chicago group is so used to skulking online, they do it without breathing.” But she smiled sadly. “Kane always thought that was so cool.”
“’Cause it is,” Noah said with a wry grin. “Always makes me hot to see Eve hack.”
She chuckled, and felt better for it. “I’m sure David’s story will be entertaining.”
They reentered Albert’s dorm, the receptionist looking up in surprise. “You’re back.”
“We are indeed,” Olivia said. “Can you find a student for us? Mary O’Reilly.”
“Mary Francesca O’Reilly,” the receptionist said after entering the name. “She’s
a senior.” She produced a campus map. “Her dorm is a four-minute walk from here.”
Olivia gave her a smile while Noah called for backup. “Thanks.”
• • •
Wednesday, September 22, 1:30 p.m.
He pulled his van into his shop parking lot after driving around in circles to ensure he wasn’t being followed. Wearily he climbed the outside stairs to the apartment he kept above the shop, locked his door, and fell into his easy chair. He’d searched for the kid, but no luck. Cops had swarmed and he’d retreated.
Austin had not replied since telling him he’d run to the ice-cream shop, behind which he had not been. He sent the kid another text, from “Kenny’s” account.
Where the hell r u? Looked everywhere. Town crawling w/cops. Let me know u r ok.
There had been no reply, but so far the cops hadn’t found him either. He’d just have to wait for the kid to text back when he felt safe. His eyes fell on the other text he’d received and he opened the photo attachment again. Albert was dead. Just like Eric.
Just like Joel. All supposed ODs. Mary, Mary, Mary. He hadn’t thought she had it in her, but she was the only one left. If he released the tape now, the cops would be on her doorstep in five minutes. But her point last night was well taken. The video proved a fifth person at the scene—me. To think that the cops wouldn’t link a fifth person at the scene with the shootings of the guard and Detective Kane was simply foolish.
The video was useful only as long as it frightened the College Four into doing his bidding. But the four were down to one, and the one left was a fucking psycho.
Although he’d love to see her rot in a jail cell forever, at this point it made more sense to silence her forever. But his hands were shaking from lack of sleep. A few hours’ rest would be all he needed. Hopefully by then Austin would have contacted him.
And then he could finally give Mary the Bitch what she so richly deserved.
Wednesday, September 22, 1:30 p.m.
“She’s not here.” An officer met Olivia and Noah at the door to Mary’s dorm room. “That’s her roommate. Name’s Helen Sanford.”