She pulled out her data-com and scrolled through the recent file uploads. There it was. An entire file on Zane Underhill. She'd forgotten all about it since Zane had moved from suspect to victim.
"Will this do?" She showed Atkins the photo.
"He doesn't look happy," the security chief remarked.
"Government photos are always serious. You know that."
Atkins moved to a desk in the corner. When he returned, he had a portable scanner in one hand. "Do you mind?"
She shook her head.
Seconds later, Zane's photograph was scanned into the system and his image projected onto the upper right screen.
"You have facial recognition software?" she asked.
"All the hotels around the Hill do. Can't take any chances nowadays."
Atkins was right about that. Terrorism had run rampant after the 2008 Recession, when multinational economies tanked. The crash hit Canada, the US, Germany and many other countries, resulting in outrageous gas hikes, home foreclosures, businesses filing bankruptcy and thousands of people losing jobs as companies restructured. 2008 made history as the biggest disaster in the financial world since the 1929 Wall Street Crash. Now, four years later, they were finally out of the depressing grip of recession.
Atkins pressed a button. The screen switched to a 3-D image of Zane's face and the computer analyzed his facial contours.
"When did he check in?"
She gave him the date and watched as the guard filled in the parameters, including Zane's floor and room number.
"We're ready," he said finally.
Jasi gave a nod. "Run the search."
He gave a simple command. "Match face."
She held her breath.
"Uh, this could take an hour," he said with a grin. "You might want to relax. And breathe."
"I am breathing," she said tightly.
Atkins paced behind her.
Half an hour later he let out a whoop. "We've got a match, Agent McLellan. Now we'll see only the footage of your guy here."
Zane's handsome face filled the monitor screen and Jasi swallowed hard as she watched him move down a hallway, toward the elevator.
"That's him."
"What's his name?"
"Zane Underhill."
Atkins labeled the search. "I can make you a copy if you want."
"Can you upload it to my data-com?"
"Sure."
Zane disappeared into the elevator. The camera switched off as another camera picked up Zane's trail. He was coming out of the elevator on the lobby floor.
The timestamp read 4:30 p.m.
Another camera picked him up as he exited the elevator. As he moved across the lobby floor, Jasi studied him carefully. Zane was casually dressed and seemed perfectly at ease. No one had coerced him or made him leave by force.
He'd left of his own free will and the concussion blocked the memory.
The monitor faded and an outdoor camera picked him up as he left the hotel and ducked into a taxi.
"Which taxi company is that?"
"Capital."
She did a quick search on her data-com, then dialed the number. When the dispatcher answered, she said, "This is Agent Jasmine McLellan with the CFBI. I'm looking for some information on one of your pick-ups from this afternoon." She checked the timestamp. "At four-forty, outside the Embassy Hotel. Single passenger, male. I need to know where he was dropped off."
"There were two pickups around that time, ma'am. Both were single male passengers and both paid with cash."
"Where did they go?"
"One was driven to the airport. The other was dropped off at Patty's Pub on Bank Street."
Jasi thanked the man and hung up.
"Do you know Patty's Pub?" she asked Atkins.
"Yeah, it's a popular place for the younger crowd. It's not far from here."
A quick glance at her watch told her it was too late to check out Patty's Pub.
"I'll go in the morning. It'll be busy now and the day staff will be gone."
She strode toward the door. "Thanks for your help, Mr. Atkins. I appreciate it."
"Agent McLellan, is this Zane character involved in something illegal? If he is, I have to let hotel management know."
"He's a victim of a crime."
The color instantly drained from Atkins' face. "Dear God. He's dead?"
"No, he's not dead." But he could have been.
She stepped into the hall, but Atkins' voice trailed after her. "I sure hope you find whoever's responsible."
She already knew who was responsible.
I put him there.
27
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Ottawa, ON
Patty's Pub was southeast of the hotel, and Jasi could have driven it easily, but she decided to call Capital cabs. It was a short drive, maybe five minutes. She was dropped off right in front of the pub door. Outside the building, planters hung from hooks and displayed a variety of colorful spring blooms. To the left was a dentist office and on the right was a salon. Zane wouldn't have gone to either.
Jasi opened the door and stepped inside.
The young woman setting glasses on the shelves behind the bar looked over her shoulder. "Uh, we're not open for another hour. Sorry, I forgot to lock the door."
"I'd like to speak to whoever's in charge."
The woman glanced around the empty room. "I guess that would be me. For now anyway. I'm Abby, the assistant manager. What do ya need?"
"I have a few questions about a man who might have stopped in here."
"CFBI?" Abby said when Jasi showed her badge. "That's kinda like the cops, right?" A small silver lip ring twinkled with each word.
"Kind of."
"Is this about the fight last night? Cause if it is, I…like, never got the dude's name. Manny threw him out."
"This isn't about last night. It's about the day before. Do you usually work the day shift here?"
"Yeah. Nights too, sometimes. The owner is really good with us. If we need more money, we can work more hours. I'm trying to pay off some student loans."
And an expensive tattoo habit.
Abby had a Celtic cross tattooed on the right side of her neck, a coiled and fanged cobra on the inside of her left wrist and some kind of floral design under her left sleeve.
"Nice ink," Jasi said.
Abby smiled wryly. "Wish my mom would agree. But you know how mothers are?"
No, actually I don't, Jasi was tempted to say. There was no mother figure in her life. Never had been. The closest person to that role would be her aunt Eileen, who was eight years older than Jasi's father and could never remember Jasi's name.
While Abby watched over her shoulder, Jasi placed her data-com on the bar and scrolled through a few photos. She stopped when she found Zane's photo.
"Did you see this guy here," she tapped the data-com to enlarge, "the day before yesterday, around four-forty?"
"In the afternoon? It was busy here that day."
"So you didn't see Zane."
"Who?"
"Zane Underhill. The guy in this picture. He's from Australia, speaks with an accent."
Abby grinned. "Hey, if I met a dude that hot who spoke with a sexy accent, I think I'd remember. But like I said, it was crazy busy."
"What was going on that made it so 'crazy busy' here?"
Abby pointed to a team photo behind the bar. A group of hockey players in jerseys raised their beers in the air.
"One of our local teams. We sponsor them. This place was packed, wall to wall. My own brother could've walked in and I probably wouldn't have noticed."
"Who else was working that day?"
The woman shrugged. "Pete, Kelsey, Monica and Rica. Had to call two in at the last moment."
"Do you have their contact information?"
"I'll get it for you."
Abby disappeared into the back and Jasi took the opportunity to call Ben.
"I'm striking out here," she told him.
"I will, but I doubt he went to see a dentist or a hairstylist. Besides, the taxi driver was given the pub's address."
She heard Ben sigh.
"This case is getting stranger by the minute," he said. "Zane got into a cab, gave the driver an address and yet he doesn't remember leaving his hotel room." His voice was tinged with anger, and maybe a trace of disbelief.
"I know it doesn't make any sense, Ben. But the doctor did say he's probably suffering from a mild concussion. That could be affecting his memory."
"I guess."
"You guess?" Jasi was pissed. "Look, Ben…I know you hate Zane―"
"Hate is a bit strong."
"Well, you distrust him then."
"And for good reason, Jazz."
She released a pent up hiss. "Stop it! He's a victim, for crying out loud. He didn't ask to get mixed up in this case. I brought him in. Look where that got him! Abducted, assaulted and lying in a hospital bed."
"Jasi―"
"Don't Jasi me, Ben. He could've died." She hitched in a ragged breath. "Regardless of your personal feelings about Zane, we have to find out what happened to him, get some justice for him."
"What about justice for you," he said softly. "He left you hanging for months. No phone calls, no text messages, no nothing."
"I'm not holding a grudge against him. Zane left me. I got over it and moved on."
"Did you?"
"Yes." The word scraped the back of her throat.
There was a brief pause before Ben said, "I think you've gotten reeled back in, hook, line and sinker. He'll move on again, Jasi. He's not one to stay in the same pond."
"Skip the fishing analogies," she said dryly. "I'm not taking the bait, nor am I flopping around helplessly. When this case is over, Zane'll be out of my life." Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Abby approaching. "Look, Ben, I have to go."
"Jasi, I―"
"Whatever else you want to say on this subject, don't," she warned. "I'll see you and Natassia later."
Abby handed her a slip of paper. "Everything okay?"
"It will be."
"Sorry I couldn't be more helpful."
Jasi headed toward the door. "No problem."
"Agent McLellan," Abby called after her. "I didn't see the hot one and I don't know if this means anything, but I did recognize one of those photos."
Jasi turned on one heel. "What?"
"It's probably not important…"
"Let me be the judge of that."
"Okay, well, that photo of the Ebonic dude? On your cool cell phone? I saw him here."
"The Ebonic guy."
"Yeah, an older dude. Like, maybe he's got grandkids."
Jasi hissed in a breath. Sampson.
Hauling out her data-com, she showed Abby the photo.
"This guy?"
Abby nodded. "He was here a week ago, maybe two. It was late, maybe midnight. Dude was with a white guy."
Excitement bubbled up from Jasi's stomach.
"Can you describe him?"
Abby gave her an apologetic smile. "He had a dark moustache. Wish I could tell you more, but that one was bundled up like there was a freaking blizzard outside."
"What was he wearing?"
"A dark jacket, I think. Jeans, maybe."
The girl could have been describing half the male population in Ottawa.
"Anything else?"
"He wore a baseball cap."
"Any logo on it?"
Abby shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not into sports."
"Anything else?"
"The ball cap guy wore sunglasses too."
Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to hide his appearance.
"Kind of dark in here for sunglasses," Jasi said.
"That's why we noticed him."
"We?"
"Me and Manny. We thought Ball Cap was weird. He kept leaning forward and whispering. The black dude barely said a word, except for ordering their drinks. Two Southern Comforts on the rocks."
"Do you have Manny's phone number?"
"Yeah, but you won't need it." Abby smiled. "He's in the back room stocking the shelves."
Manny―aka Manuel Rodriguez―was maybe eighteen, with a shaved head, beefy build and an assortment of street tattoos and scars. In a stained white muscle shirt and a pair of faded jeans, he turned in Jasi's direction and immediately flaunted his muscles with the air of an ex-gang banger, someone who could hurt you bad with his eyes closed.
She didn't want to find out.
"Why you wanna talk to me?" he asked, his head cocked to one side. "I ain't done nothin' wrong."
Jasi smiled slightly. "I never said you did." She showed him Sampson's photo. "This is the guy you saw the other night?"
"Yeah." Manny flicked a nervous look at Abby.
"She's aight, Manny," the young woman said, slipping into street lingo. "She cool. Just wants to know about that black dude and Ball Cap."
"So, Manny," Jasi said. "Tell me what you remember about these men."
"Not much," Manny said, shaking his head slowly. "They was into some serious shit. You could tell by lookin' at 'em. Maybe talkin' business. Didn't look like either of 'em were out for a good time."
"Did you hear anything?"
"Nope. Nada." He scratched his head. "They talked, then they left. Ball Cap left first."
"Did you notice a logo on his cap?"
"Yeah. It was something gold. Couldn't make it out though. Too dark in here."
"Did you see if either of them got into a cab?"
"Nope." Manny looked at Abby.
"Me neither," the young woman said.
Jasi sighed. "Any chance you have security cameras?"
Abby shook her head. "Sorry."
Jasi thanked them and made for the door.
Outside, she glanced at the buildings on either side of the pub. No cameras. She looked across the street. Nothing there either.
She'd struck out.
Damn!
"Jasi's pissed," Ben said, gripping the steering wheel.
It ate at him, this feeling of helplessness when it came to Jasi. He could sense impending doom and she was the last person he wanted to see caught up in it.
Natassia eyed him, one brow raised. "She's pissed because you keep bashing her boyfriend."
"Zane's not her boyfriend."
"What is he then?"
"He's, uh...well…"
"Yeah, right."
He glanced out the side window. He didn't want Natassia to see how much it hurt him that Jasi wouldn't listen to him.
"Let her make her own decisions, Ben. Otherwise she'll resent you."
"I know. I do." He changed the subject. "Did we get the report on the evidence found at Sampson's crime scene?"
Natassia shook her head. "The lab was backed up. They said we'll have it sometime tomorrow. You think the gum or the receipt belonged to our killer?"
"We can only wish. It would certainly give us the break we need."
"And the condom?"
"This wasn't a sex crime. And I don't think the killer boinked someone right before he set Sampson on fire."
"You never know."
Natassia was right. When it came to murderers, some had perverse habits, behaviors that make normal people cringe.
Take the Parliament cases. Whoever they were looking for took great pleasure in inflicting pain. That's why he drugged his victims, bashed their heads in and then set them on fire while they were still breathing. He wanted them to see their own deaths.
Ben thought of his vision. Flags were everywhere, but why he'd seen one falling into water, he hadn't a clue. And they still hadn't determined the meaning of the shining silver sun.
"Mind if I turn on some music?" Natassia asked.
"Go ahead. CDs are in the glove compartment."
He studied the road ahead and navigated a turn.
A glint of light made him look
at Natassia. She was holding up a CD and the light reflected off it, creating a silver glow around the edges.
"A silver sun," he whispered.
"What?"
The SUV lurched to a stop in a church parking lot.
"In my vision. The silver sun!"
"Relaxation for the Soul," she said.
"Exactly."
"But we already had the CD analyzed, Ben. They didn't find anything suspicious. No prints, no manufacturer's address."
"Maybe the tech didn't look close enough."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know," he said. "It's just a feeling."
"You think the music is covering up something?"
He nodded. "That's exactly what I think." His data-com beeped. "Yeah."
"I checked the businesses on either side of the pub," Jasi told him. "No one saw Zane."
"What about the girls who worked that day?"
"I called them and emailed Zane's photo. I'm waiting for their calls."
"Let us know if you get anywhere," he said, glancing at Natassia. "We're on our way back to the hotel."
"Where'd you go?"
"We were headed for the hospital." Before Jasi could interject, he added, "I wanted to speak to Zane myself, see if he remembered anything yet."
"So why'd you change your mind?" Jasi sounded wary.
"You know that CD we found at Sampson's?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sure it's the silver sun I saw in my vision."
"But Matthew already had it tested."
"We need to go deeper, have the music analyzed."
After he hung up, he steered the car in the direction of the hotel.
"The silver sun," he said, glancing at the CD. "Now all I need to figure out is what the flag in the water means?"
"Any ideas?" Natassia asked.
"Not really."
Approaching Parliament Hill, he caught sight of the Canadian flag that waved high atop the center spire that housed the clock tower. He felt an overwhelming sense of patriotism. Men fought for and died for this flag, this country. Yet, somewhere close by, a killer wasn't feeling so patriotic.
Why?
If he could figure that out, he'd know who to look for.
He paced in front of the window in Jasi and Natassia's hotel room. The longer he examined the disk, the more certain he was that it held a clue.
"I need the disk," Natassia said, holding out a hand.
Divine Trilogy Page 44