by Marcia Clark
Bailey sighed and nodded. “Virtually useless. And the car—not much better.”
I nodded, glum. “Interesting that he bought another forty-four, though.”
“Yeah, even considering the cut-rate deal he got from Guns R Us over there.” Bailey nodded toward Jax. “That’s a lot of money.”
Four squad cars showed up, lights blazing and sirens wailing. When the sergeant in charge saw that both suspects were cuffed and peaceful, he cracked a wry smile. “Always appreciate it when visitors pick up their own litter.”
I introduced myself and shook his hand. “It’s important to preserve the natural beauty of our parks and recreational grounds, don’t you think?”
He chuckled. “Want to tell me what we have here?”
While the unis loaded Shane and Jax into their cars, I brought him up to speed—sort of. I didn’t tell him how we’d pressured Shane into setting up the meeting with Jax, and I soft-pedaled the real reason for the meeting: to get a lead on the school shooters. Everything having to do with our case had to stay quiet until it was cleared with Graden.
“We’ll keep them here for tonight, but we’re short of bed space, so—”
Bailey held up a hand. “No problem. We appreciate the help. I’ll have them off your hands tomorrow morning.”
We followed them back to the station. The paperwork took a while, and by the time we headed back to L.A., it was almost four in the morning.
“Hey, you guys know of a place I can crash for the night?” Todd said, between yawns.
“I can get you a room at the Biltmore,” I said. It wasn’t crowded this time of year, and when I explained why I needed the room, I had a feeling they’d let him have it for free.
“And if you don’t mind, I’ll have a uni ride up with you in the morning to pick up my car,” Bailey said. “Rache, okay if I crash with you?”
“Only if you promise not to wake me up at the crack of dawn.” Bailey was a morning person times ten. For me, mornings work best when they’re the end of my night.
She gave me a tired smile. I don’t know how she managed to keep her eyes open. Bailey had been driving since yesterday morning. And now that I thought of it, she really had no choice. She had to spend the night with me. We needed to get our stories straight.
Monday, October 14
The next morning over breakfast we agreed on our official story about last night: Harrellson had forwarded us the tip from off-duty officer Todd Santos about seeing Shane in La Conchita. We followed up, and Shane agreed to help us out by setting up the meeting with Jax. All true, except for the bit of arm-twisting we’d needed to persuade Shane to join up with the good guys. But that bit of fudging only helped make him look better, which would come in handy when his lawyer tried to negotiate a deal for him. When we told him how we were going to play it, he was happy to go along.
We watched Shane give his statement on a monitor outside the interview room. It was a little scary how well he sold it.
We still hadn’t gotten any updates from Harrellson about the victim they’d found in Box Canyon. A part of me didn’t want to hear from him. I didn’t want confirmation that it was Evan. But we needed to find out whether they’d recovered anything from the body or the scene that might help us find Logan and company. “You want to give Harrellson a call?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’ve been wondering what the holdup is.” Bailey picked up her office phone and punched in the number. Then she frowned and hung up. “I got his voice mail.” Her tone was aggravated.
“So? I’m told it happens in the best of families. Why not leave a message?”
“Because I called his private cell, and he always answers it.” She used her cell and tried again. This time, he answered. “Hey, what gives?” Bailey asked. She listened, then finally said, “Okay, got it,” and ended the call. She didn’t look happy. “Said he got my first call but didn’t want to answer because it was the station number and he wasn’t sure it was me. He wouldn’t talk on the phone. He’s at the morgue. Said he’ll get in touch when he’s done. I know we need to be careful and all, but seriously? It’s going be on the news in about ten seconds anyway.”
“Yeah, this radio silence shit is getting pretty old,” I said. And to be honest, we weren’t in the best of moods. The Shane–Jax connection had only confirmed our working theory: there was a second suspect—still unknown—who’d scored more guns after the school shooting. Since there was no indication when or even if the shooters ever intended to go back to Jax, we were basically back to square one. “We need another move.”
“I know,” Bailey said. “I’ve been thinking about those letters. We figured someone must be helping them because it’s not likely our shooters mailed them from Boulder, right?” I nodded. “I was thinking that person might be a weak link.”
And therefore our best lead. “And what’s cool is they’ll be so easy to find. After all, there’s only about twenty-seven million people living in Boulder, Colorado. We can just start knocking on doors. Hell, by twenty twenty-five we might get through a good ten percent of them.” We’d already checked all of Logan’s phone records—both the family phone and his cell—for calls to or from someone with a Boulder area code. Zilch.
Bailey sighed and leaned back in her chair. “We need to smoke that person out. Make him come to us.”
“Maybe our headshrinkers can help.”
“Can’t hurt.”
Michael picked up on the first ring. I told him we needed a strategy meeting. One hour later we were in Jenny’s office.
Bailey laid out our idea to smoke out the letter mailer. Jennifer liked it.
“And bear in mind, this helper may not even know what he’s helping with,” Jenny said. “As I recall, you said you received an envelope within an envelope?” I nodded. “If the shooter sent these letters out to the helper in a sealed envelope with instructions not to open them and to mail them to you at a given address, the helper might never have seen what was being mailed.”
It was a good point, and one I hadn’t thought of. “So how do we lure that person out?”
“By getting on camera and telling the truth,” Michael said. He saw the look on my face and shook his head. “Not the whole truth. You don’t have to say what was in the letter, you only have to say that the content of the letter made it abundantly clear—”
“Okay, I’m not going to say ‘abundantly’—”
Michael smiled. “Yes, of course—sound-bite English. But in essence, say that you have proof the letters were written by the shooters, but you also have proof they were mailed by someone else. Someone who may not know they’ve been helping the killers.”
I wasn’t sure about that strategy. “That might motivate a decent person to wake up and realize what they were doing, but…”
Bailey finished my thought. “But since Logan’s name is already out there, don’t you think that person already knows he’s been helping the shooters?”
Jennifer nodded. “If Logan is the one they’re helping, then yes. You’re right. But if it was the second shooter—the one whose identity hasn’t been publicized—then, maybe not.”
Bailey nodded. “I guess I just assumed that since the shooters were buddies, the person doing the mailing would know them both and make the connection.”
Michael reached for the pot of coffee and poured himself another cup. “And you may be right. But Logan did have more than one friend. Even if your helper knows the letter writer is a friend of Logan’s, that wouldn’t necessarily mean he’s the one who was involved in the shooting.”
Jenny nodded. “And if the helper isn’t following the case daily, the name Rachel Knight may not mean anything to him. In any case, we have to proceed with the possibility that our helper is an innocent third party.”
Because if it wasn’t an innocent third party, it wouldn’t matter if we put on tiaras and waved a magic wand—he wasn’t coming forward.
Bailey nodded. “I think Graden will be able to persuade the chief to
go along. The only real downside is that the press will go nuts trying to find out what’s in those letters.”
Bailey’s cell phone rang. She looked at the number and took the call. After saying little more than “yeah” and “got it,” she ended the call. “That was Harrellson. He’s on his way back to the station.”
Time to find out what he was keeping so close to the vest. We thanked the doctors and hurried out.
Harrellson was waiting for us in the bull pen when we arrived. He waved us into a witness interview room and closed the door. “You better sit down.” We all took seats around the small table. “The body they found in Box Canyon isn’t Evan’s.”
That should have been great news, but Harrellson’s face said otherwise. “So who is it?” Bailey asked.
“Logan Jarvis.”
62
I felt like I’d taken a lead sap to the head. Bailey looked just as stunned. We sat in silence for a few moments.
“From all indications, it was suicide,” Harrellson said.
It dimly penetrated the haze of shock that our shrinks had said Logan seemed the suicidal type.
“Ready for more?” Harrellson asked. No, I really wasn’t. I nodded anyway. “According to Dr. Shoe, he’s been dead for days.”
I put my hands on the table. “What?”
“How many days?” Bailey asked.
“At least three. Cause of death is a gunshot wound to the head.”
I stared at the wall. Three days. I slowly absorbed the ramifications. “If Logan’s been dead for three days, then—”
“He couldn’t have done the Cinemark shooting,” Bailey said.
“But there were two assault rifles,” I said.
“Yeah.” Harrellson rubbed his neck. “This is crazy. So now what? We have a third shooter?”
Bailey frowned. “But the kids in the school only saw two.”
“And all the cell phone and video surveillance footage only showed two,” I said. “There’s been no evidence of a third party anywhere.”
“Unless a third party’s been in the background all along,” Harrellson said.
“I don’t know…that just doesn’t feel right.” This wasn’t the Bling Ring, a bunch of idiot teenagers looking to burglarize movie stars for shits and giggles. These were two deranged sickos bent on mass murder. The fact that they’d even managed to find each other stretched the odds, but finding a third? One who could be trusted not to fall apart at the last minute and get them all busted? That stretched the odds to the breaking point. Or, as Nick would say, that dog wouldn’t hunt. And I’d never heard of a school shooting that involved more than two killers.
When pieces don’t fit, it means you’re forcing them. I leaned back and stared at the table. I had to let go of every assumption we’d made about this case. We knew there were two gunmen at Fairmont—we’d seen them on the videotape. We’d assumed the same two gunmen had done the shooting at the Cinemark. But now we knew Logan couldn’t have been one of them. I mentally played out the sequence of events described by Gina. Then did it again. Slowly, an answer began to take shape. “What if there was just one shooter at the Cinemark? Think about it. The projectionist gets stabbed: that’s a one-man job. Then shots are fired into the theater. We found two assault rifles, but one guy could have pulled both triggers—”
Bailey nodded slowly. “And it would only take one guy to kill the manager.”
“He dropped two guns to make us think there were two shooters?” Harrellson asked.
I shrugged. “Why not? The mislead seems to be his MO. He did it with Otis…”
I watched Harrellson play it out for himself. He nodded. “Yeah, I guess that’s possible. But one guy or two, we still don’t have ID—on either.”
That pretty much summed up what we didn’t have. So I focused on what we did have. That gave me a lot less to think about. “Evan’s still in the wind—”
“Yep,” Harrellson said. “I’ve got every available officer out there looking for him.”
“What’s it been now,” I asked. “Two days?” He nodded. “It’s weird he hasn’t even called his parents. Just to say ‘hey, I’m okay.’ Don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Bailey said. “My guess is he’s got friends no one knows about. But you’re thinking Evan might be involved—”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “But I’m starting from scratch. Trying to see if we’ve missed anything. Maybe Evan knew more than he told us. And maybe that’s why he ran. Did his story about being in homeroom the day of the school shooting check out?”
“Yeah,” Harrellson said. “From what I remember, his teacher verified.”
“Anyone see him in the gym at the time of the shooting?” I asked.
Harrellson squinted up at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure I saw that in one of the uni reports. But I’ve been through at least a hundred statements. I’ll go back and make sure.”
I considered another angle. “We should tell Evan’s parents about Logan,” I said.
“You’re thinking if he finds out Logan’s dead, he’ll come home,” Bailey said. I nodded. “The parents haven’t had any contact with him. Unless they’re lying—and I don’t think they are—that won’t work. If we want to make sure he knows the coast is clear, we’ll have to go public with it.”
“Any risk that’ll push your second shooter further away?” Harrellson asked.
“I wish,” I said. “No, that psycho isn’t looking to escape. He’s looking for his next big hit. I don’t see a downside.” I looked at Bailey. “You?”
“No. But I’ll run it by Graden first just to be on the safe side. In the meantime, let’s catch Harrellson up.”
We swore him to secrecy and told him about the letters and our plan to try to smoke out the sender.
“I like it,” he said. He shook his head. “Friggin’ incredible. I always knew they were psychos, but jeez…”
“Just one more thing, Harrellson,” Bailey said. “I hate to do it to you, but I need you to notify the Jarvises. I’d do it myself, but we’re not exactly popular over at that house anymore.”
“You mean, since you told them their son was a mass murderer?”
Bailey sighed.
Harrellson moved toward the door. “That’s why they pay us the below-middling bucks.” He gave a mirthless smile. “I’ll take care of it, but give me enough time to get to them before the chief announces.”
“Make it fast. The press is on full swarm, and they probably already know a body was found in Box Canyon.” Harrellson opened the door. “Oh, and hey, I owe you for this.”
“You sure as hell do.” Harrellson turned to go and wiggled his fingers over his shoulder. “Ta ta, my rose petals.” He walked out.
Next stop, Lieutenant Graden Hales. Logan’s death hit him hard too. It took him several seconds to recover enough to ask, “Suicide? But I thought Logan was the mastermind.”
“Our shrinkers were always skeptical about that,” I said. “Anyway, mastermind or not, the second shooter’s still out there.”
“And we have no clue who he is.” Graden raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “What we do know is that he’s getting ready to make up for his failure at the Cinemark.”
Unfortunately true. Bailey and I told Graden our plans.
“With the press buzzing around like crazy, the chief will have to announce Logan’s death in a couple of hours anyway,” Bailey said. “And if you frame it right, he can make it sound like asking the letter mailer to come forward is based on a new lead we’ve developed.”
Graden nodded. “Good idea. I don’t know if it’ll work, but it won’t hurt to try.”
With Graden’s backing, we could count on the chief’s approval. I’d have to tell my office what was going on pretty soon, and I wouldn’t mind having Vanderhorn ask the letter mailer to come forward. The more, the merrier. But I didn’t want to give him the chance to steal the chief’s thunder. I waited until it was just fifteen minutes before the press conference
to call Eric.
When I finished recapping, Eric gave a low whistle. “All that in just the past two days? That’s insane. But Rachel, Vanderhorn’s going to want you to come in and give him the full report in person. You really can’t avoid it anymore.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’ve got to stick around until the chief does his press conference—”
“Wait, what? The chief’s doing a presser? Get over here now—”
“Oh, wow, Eric, it’s about to start. Gotta go! Call you later.”
I knew I was going to catch hell for this. But there’d be plenty of time for Vanderhorn to have his media moment after the chief made his bid to the letter mailer.
The reporters barely had an hour’s lead time, but even so, the place was packed to capacity a full ten minutes early. I wondered how many speeding tickets got handed out that day. Bailey and I decided to watch on a monitor in Graden’s office. Graden had been drafted to stand next to the chief as backup, and he was all spiffed up in his dress uniform. He always looked hot, but in that uniform, with all those medals…well, words fail me. I got a rare chance to enjoy the view without his knowing and I took full advantage of it.
The chief kept it short and sweet. Vanderhorn could take a few lessons. Not that he ever would. The statement took only five minutes, but the questions came in hot and heavy for half an hour.
Logan’s death was the bombshell of the day. The top of the story was Logan’s suicide, but the question, “What was in those letters?” ran a close second. When the chief refused to elaborate, the press quickly moved on to “Who’s been mailing them?” We couldn’t have hoped for better coverage.
“We can wait for a few hours to see if Evan surfaces,” I said. “But, I hate—”
“Waiting,” Bailey said.
“The waste of time. It bugs me that no one’s heard from him. Besides, it’s the only thread we’ve got to pull, so let’s work it—”
“I’m on board.” She paused. “But first, I’ve got one other move. It won’t take long.”