by Ana Valen
“How?”
“I spotted a set of footprints on the pathway. They belonged to a female. She’s probably between five-foot-two and five-foot-eight.”
“How can you tell they were female?”
“They shoeprints weren’t that big.”
She shrugged. “That makes sense. But they might have belonged to a smaller man.”
“No. The footsteps were close together. That indicates a female because women walk with a tighter gait. Men walk wider.”
“Susan?”
Harlan didn’t respond.
“It had to be her.”
He took a moment. “Where were you on the night of the murder?”
“Are you serious?”
He again didn’t respond. He simply looked at her. He had a habit of doing this, but usually because he hated talking. Now it seemed like he was trying to figure her out.
“That’s what I wanted to tell you,” she said. “The detectives arrived at my condo and asked me the same thing.”
“What did you say?”
“That I was home. I also gave them airtight ways to verify this. When they do, they’ll pinpoint my exact location—my condo.”
He nodded. He also turned back to the boards. Was he convinced? She couldn’t tell, not with his perpetually blank expression. She nevertheless looked back to the boards.
“What’s this other data?” she asked.
“The second board shows timelines of movements. This is how long it took the shooter to get into position, carry out the hit, and move out. The third board shows factors that could affect movement speeds—low visibility, vegetation, terrain slope, things like that. Based on my calculations, the shooter was in and out in twenty minutes. Give or take five. There’s only one variable I can’t account for.”
“What’s that?”
“How the shooter lured in the target. I’m guessing they did this by cellphone. But I don’t have their phone.”
“Wouldn’t Jessie’s phone work?”
“Yeah. But the police have it.”
“And your contact can’t get this?”
“That’s too risky.”
“Why?”
“The phone is being held as evidence. In order to get it, my contact would have to sign for this.”
She nodded. “I see. If he did that, someone might question why he wants it.”
“Exactly. But ultimately, I don’t need Jessie’s phone. I can get the shooter’s phone.”
She quickly turned to him. “You can? How?”
He pointed to his overhead drawing. “The freeway has cameras here, here, and here. This one covers northbound traffic, this one covers southbound traffic, and this one covers the nearby exit ramps. When I get the footage for all three, I’ll be able to identify the shooter. Then I can steal their phone, along with whatever else I need.”
She pinched her lips. “How long will that take?”
“Days. The city has the footage, and I’ll need to develop a strategy steal it. That will take some time.”
She exhaled. “That’s fine. If it’ll take days, I can live with that.”
He nodded. “What else happened with the detectives?”
She kept looking at the boards, but mostly stared through the data. “I think they’re getting desperate. They started asking about my history with my brother.”
“What history?”
“The car crash we were in. He was driving, and I was riding shotgun. The accident put me in the hospital, and they think this motivated me to seek revenge. But that’s crazy. The crash was five years ago and both of us have moved on. They’re grasping at straws.”
“Did they mention Susan, and that she was cheating on Jessie?”
“No. And I didn’t volunteer this.”
“Why not?”
“Why would I?”
“To find out who did this.”
She looked to him. “I already told you. I want you to solve this, not them. In fact, it’s imperative that you beat them.” She looked back towards the boards. This time, she focused on the information. “And thanks for all of this. I asked you to piece together what happened, and you did so in ways I never imagined. You have no idea how important this is to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
She crossed her arms and took a breath. “Well, what now?”
“Like I said, I’ll retrieve the freeway footage. After that, we’ll know who was behind this.”
“And you said it would take days, right? You won’t get this any sooner?”
“Right.”
“Okay. Then I’ll wait to hear back from you. And if the detectives come around again, I’ll stonewall them.”
“Understood.”
She turned and started for the door. Harlan kept pace right behind. She opened the door, stepped outside, and looked back.
“Have a nice day,” she said.
He nodded without responding.
She smiled and turned for the stairs.
After reaching her Acura, she climbed inside and slammed the door. Shit. Harlan was working faster than she anticipated. Because of that, she had to implement the next phase of her plan—striking at the person responsible.
She pulled her cellphone and dialed her unlikely new business partner.
“Claire!” Kovalenko beamed. “How are you doing? It feels like ages since we last spoke.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Kovalenko. It’s nice to speak with you again. And I wish I had better news.”
“Oh, no,” he lamented, using his trademark exaggeration. “You are the last person who needs bad news.”
“I agree. But at least with this news, I can resolve the issue. That is, if you’re willing to provide some assistance.”
“Absolutely. I would be delighted to help.”
“Great. What I need is—”
“So sorry. I would rather not do this over the phone. Please, come see me in person.”
She gripped her phone tighter. Another Kovalenko meeting was the last thing she wanted. Then again, she couldn’t complete her plan without his help.
“Okay,” she responded. “I’ll stop by.”
“Great. Be at my office at 5:00pm.”
“No problem. See you then.”
Chapter 22
Back at the station, Raven scrolled through the social media posts of Claire’s injury. Raven had already seen these, but that was before she knew the injury consisted of a car accident. Now that she knew what to look for, maybe something new would stick out. So far, no luck. She kept scrolling nevertheless. It’s not like she had anything better to do. Forensics was still processing Jessie’s cellphone, and Adams was off submitting the search warrant for Claire’s cellphone.
“Got it,” Adams said while approaching.
She looked over. “You pushed through the warrant for Claire’s phone?”
“That’s old news.” He lifted a manila folder. “I got her phone records.”
“How did you push through the warrant so fast?”
“The judge knows me. That expedited everything.”
“Apparently. And how did you get the records so fast?”
“I have a contact with the cellphone provider. I told him to get the data ready because the warrant was coming through.”
“Shit. And I thought I was the hare while you were the tortoise.”
“A tortoise can move fast if they prep the road.”
“Clearly. So what do we have?”
He opened the folder, retrieved the records, and placed them on her desk. She leaned in and started scanning.
“There,” she said, pointing to a block of information. “Those are the calls that Claire made on the night of the murder.”
There were three calls in total. Over to the right, a topographical map showed where she placed them.
Raven furrowed her brow. “What the hell?”
“Dammit,” Adams muttered, probably seeing the same thing.
Claire had placed every call from her condo. That mea
ns she was fifteen miles away when the murder took place.
“Look,” Adams said while pointing. “That’s the call to Mike’s Pizzeria.” He dragged his finger to the map. “She even placed that one from home.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“She was right,” Adams said with a nod. “Claire was home the entire time.”
“Her cellphone was home. That doesn’t mean she was home. Maybe she had an accomplice place the calls. That would be an effective way to throw us off.”
Adams curled his lips. “That’s possible. But it’s thin.”
“Then let’s verify this. We’ll pull the security footage from her condo.”
“That won’t place her at the crime scene.”
“I know. But it’ll tell us if she left.”
“True. But we’ll never get authorization to retrieve the footage.”
She spun towards him. “I thought you had pull with the judge?”
“I do. But only because I push through requests that are relevant to my cases.”
“This is relevant.”
“This skirts the edges of relevancy. So much that I won’t bother. If you want to try, go ahead. But I’m telling you, the judge won’t go for it.”
She looked away and rolled her jaw. Just when she thought Adams could move quickly.
Her desk phone started ringing. She reached over and lifted the receiver.
“Yeah?”
“Detective Raven,” said the caller, “this is Brian Saddler from forensics.”
“It’s about time you called.” She lowered the receiver and looked to Adams. “It’s the lab.” She moved the receiver back into place. “Have you processed Jessie’s cellphone yet?”
“I just finished now. You want me to send everything over?”
“How long will that take?”
“It’ll hit your desk tomorrow morning.”
“Too long. We need to move on this. Can we head over?”
“Yeah. That’s fine. I’ll be here for another few hours.”
“Great. We’ll be there in twenty.”
“See you then.”
She hung up.
“Well?” Adams asked.
“They finished pulling the data from Jessie’s phone.” She stood and grabbed her jacket. “I told them we would head over and take a look. If they mail everything over, it won’t get here until tomorrow.”
“Good call. Let’s go.”
With her jacket on, they started for the exit.
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the LAPD’s West Side evidence processing facility. The building was multi-floored and large enough to process anything from clothing fibers to cars. It also had a computer forensics department that pulled data from desktops, laptops, cellphones—anything with a computer storage unit.
She and Adams entered the building, passed through security, and headed for the elevators. After riding up to the third floor, they walked into the computer lab.
“Excuse me,” she told a worker.
The worker looked up from his station. “Yes?”
“Do you know where Brian Saddler sits?”
“Over here!” called a man from the far end.
The worker smiled. “He’s right over there.”
“Thanks,” Raven told him.
She and Adams made their way over.
“Detective Raven?” Saddler asked. He stood and extended his hand.
“That’s me.” She reached out and shook. “This is my partner, Detective David Adams.”
These likewise shook.
“Nice to meet you,” Adams said.
“Same to you.” Saddler reseated himself and turned to his computer. “Alright, I have paper printouts of everything. I also put everything on a disc, just in case you want to share the files with the prosecutor or whoever. And because you seemed in a hurry, I have the files up on my computer.”
“Thanks,” Raven said. “Because we are in a hurry.” She leaned into his screen. “Can you go to the text messages?”
“Of course.” Saddler grabbed his mouse, made some clicks, and brought up the texts.
“Can you bring up the texts for the hour before his death?”
“You bet.” Saddler filtered the information. “Looks like there are six in total. Should I expand the messages?”
“Please.”
Saddler displayed the written text. She leaned in once more, and Adams did the same.
Jessie: Hey. I just got here. Where are you?
Susan: I’m still here. I’m at the same spot as before. Should I work my way down?
Jessie: Don’t even think about it! Stay where you are. I’ll meet you there and help you down. I’m only two minutes away.
Susan: Thanks, love. And I mean that. My ankle was hurting before, but now it’s starting to swell. I’m so sorry about this!
Jessie: Babe, you have nothing to be sorry for. Accidents happen. But when they happen to us, we got each other’s back.
Susan:
Raven quickly looked to Adams.
Adams remained focused on the screen. “Holy shit.”
That was the second time he had cursed. This was noteworthy, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less.
“No,” she said while looking back to the screen. “No way. This is bullshit.” She looked to Saddler. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“Whoa, now. I didn’t mess with the data. In fact, we have numerous security measures in place to ensure that doesn’t happen.”
“She’s not implying that,” Adams said. He turned to her. “Are you?”
“I mean—it just—” She leaned up and scowled. After a moment, she turned to Saddler. “No. I’m not implying that. The information simply caught me off guard.”
Saddler shrugged. “That’s what was on the phone.”
She placed her hands on her hips and looked away. This was impossible. Susan clearly lured Jessie in, but that made zero sense. There was simply no way she carried out the hit. Hell. If Susan ever saw a firearm, she would break down and cry. That said nothing about her using it on someone. So did Susan act with someone else? Maybe she sent those messages while a gunman waited nearby.
“Thank you,” Adams told Saddler. He grabbed the paperwork and disc. “We appreciate your assistance.”
“Sure thing. Glad I could help.”
“Yeah,” Raven half-mindedly responded. “Thanks.”
She and Adams exited the computer lab, then the building. After walking back to their cruiser, they climbed aboard. She did that half-mindedly as well. She finally came back into the moment, but only because she needed to drive.
***
Back at the station, she and Adams returned to their desks. She started removing her jacket but she quickly slipped it back on.
“You’re going home?” Adams asked, placing his jacket behind his chair.
“No. I’m going to visit Susan. You coming?”
He sat on his chair and spun towards her. “No.”
“Why not? This is important.”
“No as in we’re not going to see her.”
“What are you talking about? Susan sent those messages, and we need to figure out why.”
“I agree. But we have to do so carefully.”
“Carefully?”
“Yes. Susan is now our prime suspect. You don’t go after prime suspects half-cocked. If you do that, they’ll run. Not only that, they’ll warn anyone else who was involved, and they’ll run. When we approach her—and we will approach her—we’ll box her in with irrefutable evidence. We’re not there yet.”
She eyed him for a second. “Do you think Susan did it?”
He stayed quiet.
“Come on, Adams. There’s no Goddamn way she was involved. If anyone is the prime suspect, that person is Claire.”
“The evidence says otherwise. The evidence says that Claire was in her home when the murder happened. It also says that Susan was front and center. And while my intuition likewise says Claire, t
he prosecutor can’t go to trial with a cop’s intuition. So here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to keep following the evidence. The evidence will take us wherever it takes us. The evidence will not support preconceived notions that we want to see validated.”
She turned and started walking.
“Where are you going?” he called out.
“Home,” she called over her shoulder. “There’s no point staying here.”
“Raven,” said a male voice.
She stopped and looked over. Officer Ricky Martinez stood there. She and Martinez had joined the LAPD at the same time, but he had elected to stay in patrol. That was common amongst prior military.
“Hey,” she called out. “What’s up?”
“You tell me. You look pissed.”
“I am. My case just went off the rails.”
“Which case? Thee um—” he started snapping his fingers— “the rich lawyer who got popped in the hills?”
“Yeah. Jessie Jacobson. I was zeroing in on the killer, then she came up with an airtight alibi. Now it seems like the girlfriend was behind this.”
“Isn’t it usually the lover?”
“Usually. But not all the time.”
“How did you figure this out?”
“Cellphone data. The girlfriend sent a bunch of text messages that lured in the victim.”
“Holy shit. So she was behind this.”
Raven gestured towards Adams. “My partner certainly thinks so.”
“But you don’t?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking this. Maybe I should give it a rest. Or maybe I should simply drink.”
“Drinking never helps. But for cops, it’s tradition. So we have to partake.”
She smirked. “And on that note, I’m out of here. Catch you later, Martinez.”
“Be safe.”
She resumed her route.
Yes, some cold beers would tamp down her investigative desires. Then again, they might have the opposite effect. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Chapter 23
Claire arrived at the Bayside Clothing Warehouse. She pulled into the same parking lot and parked in the same space. With the engine off, she exited and started for the loading dock. She expected to find the same escort as before but he wasn’t there. There was only a fleet of trucks backed into the openings.