Vegas Rain

by Rick Murcer

  Linda shifted her feet and bit her lip. Her nerves were getting the best of her and it made Chloe curious. Was it Manny’s new wife standing on her stoop or something else?

  “The cops already talked to him, I think three times, because he owned a motorcycle and whoever killed Alan might have ridden one away from the park. That’s why you want to talk to him, right?”

  “That’s true. But there is a problem with a few of the cold case files being misplaced. Joe’s interviews are part of those missing files. And yes, that’s why I want to talk to him. Besides, he may remember something else.”

  “Maybe.”

  Linda’s eyes were giving her away. Chloe played a hunch.

  “Did you know Alan Gordon, Linda?”

  At first, she did nothing, then she lowered her gaze, nodding her head ever so slightly.

  “I did. Hell, who didn’t? He was a funny guy, great looking, and smart as whip. Most of the girls thought he was hot, and he had great friends. If there was such a thing as a cool clique in high school, Alan was right in the middle of it.”

  “Like Joe?” asked Chloe.

  “Yeah, Joe and Alan were tight. They were part of a group of five or six guys who hung out together. Mike Crosby was part of that group, and you probably heard that those guys used to hang out at the Crosby’s all of the time.”

  “Gavin told me that. Kind of like a second home.”

  She nodded again. “I started dating Joe a few weeks before Alan was killed. Back then I was quite a few pounds lighter and was pretty hot myself. I’d dated around, but one day I looked at Joe and it was like I’d never seen him in that way before. I think we were truly in love in just a few days. It seemed like that anyway. I was even a little jealous when Joe would hang out with his boys and leave me out of the picture, but I got it. It was almost cool to see those guys watch each other’s back, you know?”

  “Tight mates then? All of them?”

  “They were. The boys in that group were totally devastated when they found out about Alan.”

  Her voice cracked, then she recovered.

  “Joe still has nightmares every once in a while. I guess it’s one of those things that scars you for the rest of your life.”

  “I can see that. How about you, Linda? How did Alan’s death affect you?”

  Chloe suspected she knew that answer.

  “Me? I-I . . .”

  Her face grew soft, then hard. Real hard. “You know, I’ll give your card to Joe.”

  Linda’s action indicated she was either scared or knew something. Chloe gave it another shot, realizing she had nothing to lose.

  “Can I ask you one more question?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “If I can ask you one afterwards.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Okay, then fire away,” said Linda.

  Moving a step closer, she scanned Linda’s face. “Did you know of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Alan?”

  Linda looked at her feet and then shook her head. “No. Everyone liked him, like I said.”

  Her voice said one thing, her body language another. Or maybe she was still nervous talking to Manny’s new wife. Either way, Chloe was going to ask that question again in the very near future. She had to be sure nerves were the reason Linda had acted like she had.

  “My turn.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Were you and Manny an item before Louise was killed?”

  It was Chloe’s turn to hesitate and capture some threatened composure. She hadn’t expected that question. Yet, if she’d thought about it, the question was probably on more than one person’s mind.

  “No, Linda. Not a chance. He . . . well, he’s Manny. He loved Louise and would never have been part of something like that. The Boy Scout thing is real for him.”

  Linda tilted her head. “But you were attracted to him, right?”

  “I was. It was difficult, for me, not to be. But my mom raised me right. Still, the temptation was strong.”

  Letting out a breath, Chloe hoped her honesty would satisfy Linda on some level because she wanted to ask her another question. Not to mention, a little confession is always good for the soul.

  “Thanks for telling the truth, and I think you are.”

  “You’re welcome. I just have one more thing, okay?”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “You understand what I was going through, right, Linda? You loved Joe, but you were attracted to someone else in that group of cool boys, weren’t you?”

  Joe’s wife took two steps back, her eyes growing wide. Chloe must have hit the jackpot because Linda’s surprise was indisputable.

  So was the sharp slam of the door.

  *****

  It was time, wasn’t it?

  Gavin Crosby looked at the small red circles Chloe had drawn as she’d gone over each page of the files that had been in her possession regarding Alan Gordon’s murder. He ran his finger slowly over them. The woman had been precise. Each word, each statement, each picture, each line item she’d deemed important to reconsider had been right on, in his eyes. He’d been right to give her the file. That, in turn, had given him courage.

  Funny word, courage. The dictionary gave it a one-word definition: bravery. He’d been far from that, hadn’t he? He’d endured Lexy’s death and Mike’s reaction and almost-complete melt down. He could’ve been more supportive of his son, but he had his own grief to deal with.

  Then Stella’s murder had left him alone because of that damned Justice Club shit. He’d known something was up with her. Ignoring the signs seemed like a good idea at the time. He kept telling himself she’d come around. He should have gotten her some help. That would have been the brave thing to do.

  Chicken shit.

  Over the years, after Alan’s murder, he’d done his best to make sure the boys, especially Joe, had gotten the attention they needed. Seeing their friend like that was a hell no one should have to visit, particularly high schoolers.

  At first, he thought the kids had done well, maybe even better than expected. The kids in Alan’s school had graduated and most moved on to college and then families. Wasn’t that all anyone could ask for? A normal life?

  Gavin closed the file, rubbed his face with both hands, then stared at this palms.

  There had always been something wrong with Joe’s interviews. They’d been basically the same answers, except they hadn’t been. A word here, a darting eye there, a request for a pop or a glass of water when the intensity of the questions had increased. The truth was, and still remained, that there was something wrong with Joe Belle’s answers to what had happened to Alan Gordon. Gavin should have dug harder, but he was sure he would’ve hated the answers.

  Wasn’t one death, one ruined life, enough?

  Courage.

  Bravery.

  He’d not held those ideals close to his heart during that investigation. That would have cost him something and it hadn’t been a price he was willing to pay.

  “We all pay eventually,” he whispered.

  Gavin had watched Joe over the years, knowing firsthand what a killer with that kind of rage could develop into, given the right, or wrong, circumstances. Thank God, that hadn’t happened. And Gavin had been grateful for that, for reasons most people couldn’t imagine.

  Until now, that is.

  Hitting the intercom button, he told his secretary that he was leaving for the day. He then made another call, pulled out his credit card, paid the charges, and hung up.

  Turning the piece of plastic over in his hand, he couldn’t ignore the irony.

  It was time to pay the other charges, and he prayed it wouldn’t cost more than he could afford.

  He knew it would be costly. There were always hidden costs, weren’t there? The trick was to be able to face them or walk away.

  This time, there would be no walking away.

  CHAPTER-46

  Slamming the SUV into park, straddlin
g two parking spaces, Josh jumped out of the vehicle and raced up the concrete steps and through the huge white pillars of the Walter Reed Army Medical Center.

  He glanced at the appreciation and sponsor plaques littering the inside wall and slowed. Although he was here due to an entirely different set of circumstances, it was impossible for Josh not to feel what many of the plaques said far more eloquently than he could.

  Gratitude for services rendered to not just military veterans and personnel, who was still near and dear to his heart, but for all of the other folks who had experienced the phenomenal healing that a good hospital can help to provide. Slowing a bit more, he read one gold and red sign supporting a picture of a double amputee soldier who’d given her all for her country. Her smile, in spite of her obvious condition, said more than any amount of words. She’d served and paid dearly. He bet if you asked her if she’d do it again, however, she would say yes.

  Despite his sense of urgency, he stopped completely and saluted the young woman.

  This soldier represented all that was good with this country, and she drove the point home further that he’d made the right call by ignoring Dickman.

  Loyalty, honor, integrity, and a clear conscience couldn’t be replaced with a paycheck. Ever.

  Silently, he thanked her again.

  He turned, a wry smile on his face, and hurried through the sliding glass doors. Manny, Sophie, Alex, and Dean would be proud, and for some damn reason, that was important to Josh. Especially when it came to Williams. Every group needed a moral compass, and he was glad Manny was the BAU’s. Not to mention, he’d be hard pressed to find a better friend.

  There it was again, that relationship slant. Hitting the elevator button, he waited. He decided it was too slow and sprinted up the three flights of steps. Reaching the top step and breathing a little harder, he ran down the white tiled floor, the inescapable odor of disinfectant roaming the hallway, and took a sharp right. Six steps later, he stood in Alex’s room, hands on hips, catching his breath.

  The white-coated anesthesiologist, standing beside the shift nurse, was talking with Alex, telling him how the process would work. Josh heard the words “out for six hours” before the nurse, the doctor, and Alex looked his way, almost in complete sync.

  Josh caught his breath, trying to calm his thumping heart, then spoke.

  “I need you two to leave.”

  He pulled his ID and stepped closer. “I have to speak to this man, and I want complete privacy.”

  The doctor blinked, then shrugged.

  “Okay, but we have a tight schedule, so hurry up.”

  He left the room followed by the nurse, just as Barb, Alex’s wife, strolled through the door, coffee in hand.

  “Okay, Corner. What in hell are you doing? You think I’m not nervous enough so you got to pull this stunt? Wait. It’s Sophie, isn’t it? She put you up to this. Damn. I’m going to—”

  “Relax. She did nothing of the sort, although that would be a hell of an idea on her part.”

  He moved closer as Alex sat up, Barb moving to Alex’s other side.

  Tilting his head toward Josh, Alex’s expression changed. Trepidation didn’t fit the pudgy CSI, yet Josh could understand. His sudden appearance was, at minimum, unexpected.

  “Listen. I’m here for your help. I made a choice this morning that will probably affect my employment with the Bureau, which may come to fruition within a few hours. Meanwhile, I’m going to do what we, I, should have done all along.”

  The emotion in his voice surprised even Josh. Good. About damn time the “yes man” hit the bricks.

  “What decision?” asked Alex.

  “Good question,” said Barb.

  “Let’s just say I’m not going to be getting any Christmas cards from AD Dickman. He wasn’t happy when I told him to stick this process and promotion where . . . well, you know the rest.”

  Alex shook his head, then flipped the sheet from his chest, and put his legs over the side of the silver-railed bed, never moving his eyes from Josh’s face.

  “I’m not having surgery this morning, right?”

  “Only if you want to. I’m not making that call for you. I know what it means for both of you. But I’m not doing any more damn testing, and I’m already tired of wearing black suits and dumbass ties. I have to do the right thing for me.”

  “Now there’s a concept. Can you handle the consequences?” asked Barb, her voice steady.

  “I’ll have to. No one said life would be easy,” said Josh, meeting her gaze.

  Alex slid off from the bed, walked to the closet, and removed his clothes, scrambling to cover a naked, chunky left cheek when the rear of the gown suddenly flopped open.

  Josh laughed. “Need a picture of that for Sophie.”

  Alex snorted and grinned. “How long before we get to Vegas?”

  “I guess my choice wasn’t that hard to figure out, eh?”

  “Not really. It’s not like I wasn’t thinking the same thing,” said Alex.

  There seemed to be an aura of relief in Alex’s voice as he turned toward Josh, jeans in hand.

  Good men and women were indeed hard to find. However, it was obvious that he was surrounded by them.

  “Four hours or so. I’ll do my best to get surgery set up again, but I’m not able to make any promises with that one, Alex. I’m pretty sure my career with the FBI is up Shit Creek without a boat. So, again, if you want to stay . . .”

  Standing tall, Alex gestured toward Josh. “Stay? Hell, you made me do this. Having said that, I’ve got to admit, I want this surgery, but it can wait. All I do is lay there and think of how I could be helping and if they’re okay. I think if something happened to those three, the new hand would have been a constant reminder, you know?” Alex buttoned his plaid shirt.

  “I do know,” Josh said softly, tossing Alex’s shoes in his direction.

  “Wait. We’re going to Vegas? I need more clothes,” said Barb, grinning.

  “I’m sorry, Barb. You’re staying. I actually have something for you to do . . . to buy us more time, if you’re willing.”

  There was a brief look of disappointment, then the slow smile appeared. “Am I going to like it?”

  “I’ve only known you for a short time, but hell yes. You’re going to love it.”

  Josh handed her a piece of paper. “There’s the address, and you’ll figure out the rest.”

  Barb glanced at the paper, and her electric smile grew wider. “Yes, yes, I will.”

  “I knew you would. Okay. That’s settled. We have to hurry. The jet’s waiting, but who knows how long before Dickman knows I have it.”

  Pulling his jeans all the way on, Alex slipped into his green and white walking shoes and then hurried to his wife, kissing her full on the lips.

  “You’re the best woman, the very best.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” she said, then returned his kiss. “Now get your asses going.”

  They didn’t have to be told a second time.

  The two men bounced down the steps, reaching the front door in record time.

  A few seconds later, they were heading to the private FBI airport where the jet waited for them.

  It occurred to Josh that the BAU, his BAU, would be back together in a few hours.

  He only hoped it was the right call and that they weren’t too late.

  CHAPTER-47

  Manny raised his hand. “No. Not yet.”

  “What? Why not?” asked Agent Wilkins. “The video footage on these discs might blow this thing wide open.”

  “Maybe. But I think it’s what he wants. This killer is no idiot. He wants us confused and off track. That’s exactly what will happen unless we do this right.”

  Wilkins looked at the forensics tech and motioned for her to stop loading the first disc into the computer that would project onto the white screen located at the front of the conference room.

  “Okay. Tell us what that means, Manny. To this juncture, you’ve not told
me shit, and it’s time.”

  Agent Wilkins had made two good points. The anger in her voice told him that he needed to address them. It also told him she was ready to give him details.

  “Fair enough. We need to revisit the mummy situation at the hotel, discuss what Dean discovered, talk about what Sophie and I found by speaking to a barmaid, and most importantly, have you tell us what you saw in the unsub who demanded that you take a good look,” said Manny.

  “Why not just cut to the chase?” asked Sophie.

  “Because there’s an order here. I didn’t see it at first, even when were were talking at the Egyptian, but it’s clear now. This killer has done things in order. He’s planned each detail. If we want to see where that’s leading, we’ve got to follow his order.”

  “I agree with Sophie: why?” said Agent Wilkins.

  Shifting in his seat, Manny leaned forward. “It’s like a giant jigsaw puzzle. You can’t put one piece in and connect it until the others are there. We’ll miss something unless we see the progression of where he’s going, and, in the process, we won’t be able to get a step on him. We have to get ahead so people don’t die and he wears cuffs or eats a bullet or two.”

  “So that’s what’s going on when you do your profiling trip?” said Sophie.

  “Most of it. It’s logic, but sometimes. . . ”

  “You get a feeling. We’ve seen that,” said Sophie.

  “Listen. There’s a pattern in almost anything or anyone. We’re creatures of habit, and in case you haven’t noticed, almost everything around us has symmetry. Whether people believe it or not, they’re incredibly predictable. All of us. So if we take a short cut, as much as I would like to, we’re going to miss something.”

  There it was again. As he finished speaking, the sense of how screwed up this whole thing appeared to be rushed him. So like Argyle. And so not. So brazen, arrogant, but slightly disorganized. It was as if the killer was flying by the seat of his pants, but wasn’t. Manny found himself believing just that much more in what he’d just said: they couldn’t afford to miss a thing. Not one.