“No soda, no coffee. Anything else? We’ve got some killer doughnuts in the break room.” Billy straddled the other chair.
Again, with the pained look on his face, Fisher said, “I don’t eat doughnuts, Detective Crouch.”
“Okay, nothing to eat or drink, then.” Billy gave Fisher an appraising look. “Do you work out? You’re in good shape.”
Fisher allowed his thin lips to crook into a smile. “I’m a biker, Detective Crouch.”
Billy slapped the desk between them with his hand. “Are you one of those guys who rides around with the bright-colored Lycra shorts? Damn, you gotta admire a man who goes out like that.”
Fisher did not reward Billy with another smile. “You called me in here because you saw my car somewhere?”
“We did, Mr. Fisher.” Jake flipped open the folder and with the tip of his finger dragged the photo, which showed Fisher’s car caught in the vicinity of Crystal’s house the morning her body was discovered, to a spot on the desk in front of Fisher.
Fisher didn’t touch the photo like Beard had done. Instead, Fisher put his hands in his lap and hunched forward a little.
Billy asked, “Is that your car, Mr. Fisher?”
“Well, you know it is, Detective, because there’s my license plate, clear as day and the reason why I’m here instead of finishing up work at the office.”
Jake eased out a breath he’d been holding. “Can you tell us what your car was doing in that area at two in the morning?”
“Certainly I can. Can you tell me why you’re asking?”
“It’s near the scene of a homicide that we believe took place around that time.” Jake took a sip of soda so he could hide his own face while he watched Fisher’s over the rim of the can.
Fisher’s expression never changed. “Terrible. My car was there because it’s a shortcut I take to work sometimes.”
Jake’s eye twitched. Not what he was expecting.
Billy burst out with the time again. “You’re going to work at two in the morning?”
Fisher tapped a badge inside his front pocket. “It’s a secure building, Detective Crouch, and I work in a closed area. I’m in and out at odd times of the day. When an idea strikes, I need to act on it.”
Billy gave him a look as if he were an escapee from an insane asylum, but the three of them spent the next ten minutes looking at a map that included Fisher’s house, where he lived alone, the area where his car was spotted and the location of his office.
As Jake suspected, that street could be used as a shortcut. As he also suspected, Fisher’s alibi would most likely check out.
When Billy sprang the second photo on him, Fisher pursed his lips again and studied the picture carefully, again never touching it. “That could be my car, but I doubt it. I don’t recognize that area.”
Jake said flatly, “It’s Canoga Park.”
“Then no. That’s not my car.” Fisher’s gaze traveled from Jake’s face to Billy’s. “Is there anything else, Detectives?”
They asked him several more questions, but Fisher stuck with his original story, his cool, precise demeanor never cracking.
“All right, then.” Jake stood up suddenly with a loud scrape of his chair, hoping to startle Fisher into grabbing the table or his own chair.
He didn’t.
“We’ll be checking with your office about the time you arrived to work that day.” Billy smiled and spread his hands. “Just to dot our i’s and cross our t’s.”
“Very good, Detective.” Fisher made a move for the door. “I can find my way out.”
“I’m sure you can, but you can understand protocol.” Billy hesitated at the door to see if Fisher would grab the handle.
He didn’t.
After an awkward pause of several seconds, Billy yanked open the door and Jake called after Fisher’s squared shoulders. “Thanks again, Mr. Fisher.”
By the time Billy came back to the interrogation room, Jake had been pacing and working up a steam. He grabbed Billy by the shoulders. “I think that’s our guy, Billy.”
Billy cracked a grin. “Certainly.”
“The bastard wouldn’t touch a thing in here. Wouldn’t leave his DNA on anything, either.” Jake cocked an eyebrow at Billy. “He didn’t use the men’s room, by any chance, on his way out?”
“Too careful for that.” Billy scratched his chin. “You know his office is going to verify his hours.”
“I know that.”
“We got nothing, brother.”
Jake held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “We have his print. We just need to match it to him.”
* * *
KYRA SHADED HER eyes as she peered up at Jake in the parking lot of the station, the setting sun creating a glare and giving him a halo. After his performance last night, he definitely didn’t deserve a halo...or maybe he did.
She coughed. “You can’t just ask him for his fingerprints?”
“No. All we had was his car on a home security video in the area. The car wasn’t even in front of Crystal’s house, and we already verified his story with his employer. His manager confirmed that Cyrus works odd hours. They don’t care as long as he puts in forty hours a week, and he usually clocks more than that. The guy’s something of a genius, and they’re happy to let him do what he wants. That is not enough to get his prints. He’s not a suspect on paper—only in our minds.”
“And he didn’t leave any prints in the interview room.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Suspicious.”
“Very suspicious. We’ve seen it before—persons of interest come in to talk and won’t touch a thing. We even had a guy one time who crushed out his cigarette, bagged the butt and stuck it in his pocket, so we couldn’t get his DNA when he left.”
“You’re rushing off now to get his prints? How do you plan to do that?”
Kyra had run into Jake in the parking lot when she’d returned to the station to grab files she’d forgotten. He’d waved her down and told her all about the rocket scientist, Cyrus Fisher. She’d been around Quinn long enough to know that cops had to trust their guts.
“I have his address.”
“You said it yourself. You can’t get a warrant and bust into his place. You don’t have enough evidence. You don’t have any evidence.”
“People put their trash out, don’t they? Touch the lids, toss out containers.” He lifted his shoulders in the suit jacket he’d dumped on her bathroom floor and worn two days in a row, definitely looking a little worse for wear.
“You plan to skulk around in that?” She jabbed a finger at the black Crown Vic that had police written all over it even though it was unmarked. “He’s a rocket scientist. He’ll spot you in two seconds, especially if you rang any alarm bells with him by trying to get him to eat and drink in the interview room.”
“I don’t know if we did.” Jake scratched his unshaven chin. He obviously had never made it back to his place this afternoon to freshen up after spending the whole night at her place.
“Sociopaths often think they’re the smartest ones in the room, and with Cyrus’s IQ, he probably believes that double. It always makes them slip up.”
“Straight from the extremely kissable, luscious lips of a therapist, but I’ve done stakeouts before.”
Her lips buzzed. “This is more than a stakeout. I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you use my completely nonthreatening, unofficial-looking car for this adventure on one condition.”
“It’s not an adventure, and I already know the condition. You want to tag along.”
“I deserve to tag along. What if Cyrus Fisher is La Prey? Besides,” she said as she put her hand on his arm and batted her eyelashes, “this is not a dangerous mission. You’re going to pick up some garbage while I drive the getaway car.”
“All right. One piece of trash, and we leave.” He shrugged
out of his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. “Lead the way.”
As Kyra traipsed to the civilian side of the parking lot, she cranked her head over her shoulder. “Why isn’t Billy with you?”
“He’s picking up his kids, but he knows what’s going down. He had the same feeling about Cyrus as I did.”
When they got into Kyra’s car, Jake put Fisher’s address into his phone and she started following the voice. The sun set fast as they drove east, and dusk had fallen by the time they reached Fisher’s neighborhood—neat and well-ordered, just like Fisher himself, according to Jake.
They crawled toward his block and Jake said, “Damn.”
She slammed on the brakes. “What’s wrong?”
“Hey!” He steadied his hands against the dashboard. “Are you trying to call attention to your car?”
With her heart still pounding, she squeaked out, “Sorry. You startled me.”
She wouldn’t tell Jake this, but her nerves had started jangling, and all they were doing was retrieving a piece of trash. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to go in for an arrest.
He tapped the window. “It doesn’t look like it’s trash night. Nobody has bins out. I can’t exactly waltz onto the guy’s property and grab a flowerpot or a garden hose.”
“Maybe find out when this neighborhood puts out trash and return. Do you have enough to put surveillance on him in case he goes out...hunting again?”
“Nope. We don’t have the manpower for that, and I don’t want him to suspect anything.” He drummed his fingers on the dash. “Get closer to his address and pull to the curb. I have binoculars with me.”
Kyra licked her lips as she drove onto Fisher’s block. Luckily she did not have to make a U-turn to park across the street and several doors down from his tidy house with its manicured lawn.
She cut the engine, and Jake reached for his bag in the back seat of her car, withdrawing a pair of small binoculars.
Raising them to his eyes, he said, “I just want to see what I can see.”
She pulled back a little to allow him a clear view of Fisher’s house.
“No trash bins and none on the side of his house, either, not that I could use that evidence anyway. Man, I don’t think that guy has one twig out of place. It matches with his crime scenes.”
“Is he someone you could see stalking me? Killing Yolanda?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t do those things.” He took a sharp breath. “He’s coming out of the house.”
“He is?” Kyra slumped in her seat. She could see a dark figure in the driveway of Fisher’s house. “What’s he doing?”
“He’s leaving.”
She shot up. “Jake, we have to follow him. What if he’s going to plan another attack or, God forbid, kill someone?”
“Okay, okay. Easy. He’s in his car.”
Lights flashed in the driveway as Fisher turned on his car. Kyra ground her teeth together, hoping he didn’t come this way.
Jake said, “He’s going the other way. Don’t start your car yet. He’ll see the lights behind him. There—he turned right. Now go ahead and turn right.”
Kyra started her engine and took off after Fisher’s silver hybrid SUV. When she turned the corner, she could spot his headlights up ahead. “Tell me how close to get.”
“You’re fine. It’s not too late. There are still cars coming and going in this area. He shouldn’t notice anything.”
She trailed behind Fisher with occasional instructions from Jake, and when the silver SUV got into the left-hand turn pocket to a major boulevard, she sighed. “That’s better.”
“Slow down. Don’t get right behind him. Let these two cars go.”
She chugged along until the two cars behind her got frustrated and wheeled around her, slipping behind Fisher’s car in the pocket. Kyra stayed in the far right of her lane in case Fisher decided to study the cars behind him in his rearview mirror.
The green arrow flashed on and the car in front of her dawdled so long she almost missed the light.
Fisher’s car zoomed ahead of her and then got in the right lane and slowed down.
Jake lowered the binoculars. “He’s gonna park. He’s gonna park.”
“Where’s he going?”
“I think we’re in luck. There are a couple of take-out restaurants, a nail salon and a mobile phone store. I doubt he’s getting his nails done or buying a cell phone.”
They drove past as Fisher parked his car in the small parking lot of the strip mall.
Kyra pounded the steering wheel. “I think he just took the last spot in there.”
“That’s okay. We’re in no hurry. Circle around the block.”
She made a sharp turn around the corner and circled back around to the busy street. She turned right and slowed down.
Jake said, “Pull over to the curb ahead and idle. I’m going to see if I can look into the restaurants. I think he went into the Thai place.”
She scooted into a metered parking place on the street ahead of the driveway to the strip mall parking lot. “Can you see in there?”
“His car’s still here.” Jake put the binoculars to his eyes, his mouth beneath screwed up at the side. “I can’t get a good look. Wait!”
She clutched the steering wheel. “Do you see him?”
“Pay dirt, baby.” He dropped the binoculars from his eyes, which were shining in triumph. “He’s coming out of the Thai restaurant with a plate of food and a drink, and he’s heading for the small patio. He’s going to eat and drink and toss, and we’re going to move in for the evidence.”
“You’re going to take it out of the trash? How will you know it’s his?”
“I know he’s eating from the Thai place, and we’ll watch the trash can after he leaves to see who else throws something away. We got this.”
They waited in the car, and Kyra’s eyes burned with tears as she kept focused on the man eating from a to-go container and tapping on his computer.
She asked Jake, “What do you think he’s doing on that computer?”
“He could be working, but we’re going to find out when Forensics gets ahold of it. Do you know they’re still not done going through Jordy’s computer?”
“Finding anything on his?”
“Not that I know of, but Jordy spent a lot of hours on his laptop.” He jabbed her thigh. “Here we go.”
She squinted at Fisher wiping his hands on a napkin, closing his computer and bagging his trash. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought that he might take it all with him.
With the binoculars glued to his face, Jake said, “He’s heading for the trash can. He’s going to throw away his bag. Done.”
Jake sounded like he’d been giving a play-by-play to a game and Fisher had just scored—or they had.
The sun had gone down completely, and Fisher’s reverse and brake lights flashed in the parking lot as he started his car and backed out.
As he pulled out, Kyra cracked open her door and the dome light sent a pool of light into the car.
Jake told her to wait at the same time she gasped and pulled the door closed. Fisher drove past them on the other side of the street. She turned to Jake. “Do you think he saw us?”
He shrugged. “Two people in a car on a busy street. You don’t need to come with me.”
“Oh, yes, I do. Thai food is beginning to sound pretty good about now.”
They both exited the car and marched up to the trash can at the edge of the dining patio. Kyra hadn’t taken her eyes from it and knew nobody else had put garbage in it.
Jake bent over the can with his phone and took a picture of the plastic bag. He pulled out a glove and slipped it onto his hand. Then he reached into the receptacle and pinched the handle of the plastic bag between his fingers, pulling it free.
He
swung it from his gloved hand. “Got it.”
He placed it on the table where Fisher had been sitting and nudged it open. “There’s the container, his fork and his cup and straw. He’s gotta have his prints all over this stuff.”
As he stuck his camera in the bag to take more pictures, a movement to her right caught Kyra’s eye. She jerked to the side and gasped as her eyes met those of Cyrus Fisher, a slight smile on his pale lips, his hand in his pocket.
“J-Jake.”
Jake spun around, and his hand went to his weapon on his hip. With his eyes never leaving Fisher’s face, he said, “Fisher.”
“Good evening, Detective. Are you looking for something?”
Jake’s hand moved to the plastic bag on the table and the crinkling noise sounded like a bomb going off in the still silence among them. “I think I found it.”
“Left my prints at one of the scenes, did I?” Fisher clicked his tongue and reached for his front pocket.
Jake’s fingers twitched over his weapon, but Fisher held up a tablet. “Just a breath mint, Detective. I suppose you’ll want me to do a lot of talking.”
“Are you confessing now, Fisher? Because I can take you in along with your prints here.”
Fisher popped the mint into his mouth and bit down on it. “I don’t think so, Detective.”
The blood roared in Kyra’s head. She had a feeling Fisher wasn’t going to come along quietly, despite his current demeanor.
Fisher chewed for a few seconds as if contemplating his choices. Then his body stiffened, and he clutched his chest.
Jake lunged forward, drawing his gun. “Stop!”
Kyra stumbled back, her hand grabbing for the back of one of the metal chairs at the table.
Fisher gurgled and dropped to his knees, his face turning purple as he gasped for breath. He fell onto his side, and his eyes rolled back as foam spewed from his lips.
“The pill! It’s a suicide pill. Stop him, Jake.”
Jake crouched beside Fisher, now clawing at the neck of his shirt, veins popping out on his forehead. “It’s cyanide, Kyra. He’s dying.”
“No!” She dropped to her knees and grabbed the front of Fisher’s shirt. “Why’d you do it? Why’d you copy him?”
Harlequin Intrigue May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 18