Somebody tipped the killer about his trip to Hemet Lake. But was it Bobby Schultz? Something tells Jake it wasn't. He stares at the men facing him.
Keith Abrams, his daughter's protector, radiating humiliation and shame for letting this happen. He feels not only remorse and sorrow but responsibility.
Bobby Schultz, his trusted long-time friend. Once again there is shame. He has allowed the booze to interfere with his ability to protect someone he loves.
And Ed Murillo, in whom he has placed such faith. Remorse? Yes, there's that. And shame.
But there is something else, too.
Through Jake's anguish, one startling truth suddenly rockets into his consciousness.
It's as if a radio transmission is being broadcast into his brain.
Ed Murillo knows where Tristan is.
30
The more Jake reads Ed Murillo the more convinced he becomes that he's right. Murillo has inexplicable knowledge of Tristan's circumstances. But confronting Murillo with his awareness will lead nowhere. There are no facts to support any accusations Jake might make. If he tries to make the case that Murillo's guilt is clear to him because of his psychic abilities he'll sound like a man on the brink of insanity.
Despite his absolute certainty that time is running out, that he has to act without regard to proper protocols, Jake is forced to keep what he knows to himself - at least until he can figure out how to make use of it.
And then something happens that, at first, he doesn't understand. An image of Tristan's cell phone has burned a path into his mind. "Have we tried tracking Tristan's cell phone?" he asks no one in particular.
Abrams nods his head. "Yeah, with no luck. We know it was powered off very near the university grounds."
While Abrams is speaking Jake watches Murillo for a reaction. And there's a big one. The mention of Tristan's cell phone has a definite and significant impact on him.
Why would that be?
A possible reason comes to mind. If, in fact, it was Murillo who picked Tristan up from the university it would have been him that took her cell phone away from her. Where would he have put the phone after powering it off? It also occurs to Jake that the question of how Tristan could have been apprehended in public would be answered if in fact it had been Murillo. Murillo is in civilian clothes. That being the case, he was probably driving his personal vehicle when he went to the university.
"Ed," Jake says, "you were driving your own vehicle when you went to get Tristan, right?"
There is perspiration on Murillo's forehead that is not justified by the air conditioned squad room. He swallows nervously. "Yeah, Jake. I got the word about what happened at Hemet Lake while I was off duty so I just drove to the university in my own car to save time."
"Right. Well, we're going home," Jake says.
Abrams immediately registers opposition to this idea. "Jake, I think it's mandatory that we keep you in protective custody until---"
"Save it, Keith. I've still got the security guys at my place and I'm well armed." He looks at Murillo. "Ed, would you give Lillian and me a ride home?"
Murillo's nervousness escalates. "Sure, Jake, of course."
"Let's go now."
Murillo leads the way while Jake and Lillian follow him out to the Central Bureau parking area.
As soon as they're out of sight Schultz calls Jake's house and waits until the phone is answered by one of the security people Jake has put in place. "This is Detective Schultz," he says. "Jake and Lillian are on their way home right now. I want you to call me the minute they arrive. Is that clear?" He powers off his phone and looks at Abrams. "We better get a call in the next thirty minutes."
Murillo is walking fast. When they get to the east exit Murillo looks back and says, "Why don't you wait here? I'll get the car and pick you up."
Lillian is about to agree but Jake stops her. "No, that's okay. We'll come with you."
The closer they get to Murillo's car the more his nervousness intensifies. When they're within a few feet of the car Jake comes up behind Murillo, reaches under his jacket, and relieves him of his weapon.
"What the hell are you doing, Jake?" Murillo sputters.
"Give me the car keys," Jake demands.
Murillo hesitates but, prodded by the gun Jake now holds, he hands over the keys.
Lillian is stunned by Jake's actions but wisely keeps her voice low. "Jake, what's going on?"
Jake passes the keys to Lillian. "Have a good look inside the car. Specifically, you're looking for Tristan's cell phone."
"What? But why---"
"Just do it, Lil."
In ten seconds Lillian has found it. "There's one in the drink holder that looks like hers," she calls out.
Jake opens the back door and pushes Murillo into his vehicle, then climbs in beside him. "You drive, Lil."
"Where?"
"Tell her," Jakes says.
"Jake, I … I don't know what---"
Jake holds the gun to Murillo's head. "Tell her or so help me God I'll kill you right now."
"You have to understand---"
"I won't ask you again. Tell me where Tristan is now or I'll put a bullet in your head. TELL ME!"
There's an unexpectedly stubborn set to Murillo's jaw. "If you kill me you'll never find her," he mutters.
"Listen to me," Jake says. "I know how this asshole works. I know there's not much time. If you don't tell me where she is right now, it'll be too late to save her if it isn't already. So killing you won't matter."
There's a long pause while Murillo deliberates and Jake becomes increasingly dangerous looking.
Finally, Murillo says, "She's at a house in Holmby Hills."
31
Lillian speeds in the direction of the address Murillo has given them. "Phone Bobby and Keith, Jake," Lillian pleads.
"No," Jake responds. "I'll handle this my way. I'm not giving that piece of shit the opportunity to negotiate with Tristan's life."
"I think you're making a big mistake, Jake," Lillian says.
Jake ignores her. He has his arm around Murillo's neck and still holds the gun to his head. "Tell me why you did this," Jake says. "I want to know what he did to convince you to cover for him while he killed innocent young women. And Tristan - how the hell could you help him kill my daughter?"
Murillo is now a man in the depths of despair. Life as he has known it is over. "Gabriella," he says choking back tears. "She was dying, Jake. The doctors said she had less than three months to live. Her only hope was an operation that would cost more money than I make in ten years. It wasn't covered by the insurance. He gave me a way to save her life. I took it."
At least there's a reason, even if it is an unjustified one, for Murillo's actions. Jake can understand how a man can be driven to take drastic measures to save the life of someone who is loved so deeply. But not this. Nothing justifies what Murillo has done.
"Not that it matters now," Murillo continues, "but I was going to kill him when he had given me all the money I needed."
Their arrival at the Holmby Hills mansion is met with stark condemnation by Lillian. "Jake," she says, pulling the car to a stop well past the grounds of the estate, "please rethink this. Call the guys and let them do this the right way."
"Not gonna happen, Lil." There's a tone to Jake's voice that eliminates any possibility of a compromise on this issue. "Where are they likely to be?" Jake says to Murillo.
"I don't know," Murillo answers. His voice has the timber of a man who has not slept for a week. "I left her tied up in the basement but they could be anywhere now."
A wave of hatred for his old friend burns through Jake at the mention of how Tristan has been treated.
Jake takes a set of handcuffs from Murillo's belt and secures his hands behind his back after looping the cuffs through the door pull. "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, Lil, go ahead and make that call."
"Please be careful," she whispers. There are tears in her eyes as Jake exits the car.
> The house is huge, built of stone, and looks impregnable. Gaining access without being detected is going to present a problem. Jake skirts the perimeter of the property, conscious that a high tech security system is almost certainly in place. He decides the only way to deal with whatever he might face is to adopt an aggressive, fast-moving approach. He places his hands on top of a stone and wrought iron fence and propels himself over it, landing in an area of cedar shrubs and mulch, interspersed with tall fir trees. When his feet touch the ground a sharp pain radiates through his head. He crouches in the shadows of the fence and trees, praying that the pain that appears intent on hammering into his skull will ease. A couple of minutes pass before he feels confident enough to move.
Jake stays close to the fence and works his way to the rear of the property. A raised patio area at the back of the house allows access to the interior by way of sliding glass doors. These are his best chance of gaining easy access.
He leaves the safety of the trees and dashes across a wide expanse of lawn, then crouches against a wall adjacent to the patio.
The pain in his head is intensifying but he fights it with everything he's got. He knows he's not thinking straight, that his decision making processes are badly flawed. He tries to maintain his center of attention but he has no optimism that he is doing it well.
After a few deep breaths, Jake takes Murillo's 9mm Glock from his belt and flicks off the safety. Slowly, he makes his way onto the patio and chances a glance through the window. He sees no signs of life.
He pulls gently on the sliding door handle. It moves.
He's inside.
32
The silent alarm gets Marius Dupree's attention the moment Jake's feet touch down inside the estate grounds. From one of the many monitors he has positioned throughout the house Dupree watches as the intruder slinks through the trees. When Dupree realizes the prowler is none other than Jake Foley he is amazed on two fronts: the first being that Foley is here at all, and the second that he is alone. That he is alone gives Dupree cause for optimism. A lone wolf is always easier to deal with than a pack. Dupree's biggest regret at the moment is that he'll have to postpone the delightful adventure he has planned with Tristan. But not for long.
Dupree leaves Tristan in the basement, and makes his way to the upper floor. He's armed with a Taser and a .45 Heckler & Koch semi-automatic with suppressor attached. From the kitchen monitor Dupree sees Jake approaching the patio doors and scolds himself when he realizes the door has been left unlocked. Just as well, he decides. Foley's entry will be made easy. Dupree takes an advantageous position off to the side of the entryway where he will remain unseen until Jake is completely inside. The Taser is effective within fifteen feet of its target and Dupree makes sure to be well within that range.
The stun is completely debilitating. Jake's body goes rigid; he hits the floor hard.
"Wonderful of you to join the party, Detective Foley," Dupree says, kneeling at Jake's side. "Oh, that's right, you're no longer a detective. And I suppose that means you're all on your own here. But, tell me, Mister Foley, how were you able to find my humble little abode, hmm?"
Jake couldn’t respond even if he wanted to. He's aware that Dupree is dragging him somewhere but he's incapable of reacting, can do nothing to defend himself. To add to his misery, the fall to the floor has caused a new and even more intense regimen of pain in his head. He slides into unconsciousness.
As much as Dupree would love to believe Foley is on his own, he can't count on it. It would be too much to believe that Foley hasn't at least told someone what he's doing. He did, after all, get the information about the location of the house. That almost certainly had to come from Murillo. Which means what? If Murillo were in custody then Dupree would now be in the process of being swarmed by police. The fact that he isn't most likely means Murillo is being held captive by Foley. Perhaps a look around the neighborhood is called for.
* *
Lillian checks her watch. It's been twelve minutes since Jake left. He said to call for help if he wasn't back in fifteen but she's not going to wait any longer. She reaches for her cell phone as the passenger door is pulled open and Dupree slides into the car beside her. A gun with a silencer attached to it is pointed at her side. "Move the car onto the driveway."
Dupree's presence means Jake is either dead or wounded. And Tristan's fate is something Lillian doesn’t even want to think about. She knows there is zero possibility of negotiating with this maniac and that the best thing she can do right now is to cooperate. She starts the engine and moves slowly to Dupree's estate.
Dupree glances into the back seat. "Now what have you gone and done, Officer Murillo? It appears your allegiance to me has suffered somewhat, hmm? Well, perhaps it's all for the best."
"Surely you must know the police are on the way," Lillian says. "If you've got an ounce of sense, run for your life."
"Oh, I'll be departing soon, dear lady, have no fear. I just have a few loose ends to tie up before I'm off, you'll pardon the pun. Pull up over there," Dupree says, pointing to an area beside the triple-car garage. The property is heavily treed and from where they sit there is no worry of being seen from the street. He takes the keys from the ignition and exits the car. "Out," he orders Lillian.
As he steps from the car Dupree stops and opens the rear door. He shoots Murillo four times in the chest.
Lillian's resolve to remain in control of her emotions evaporates at the sight of Murillo's slaughter. Her brief glance at his bullet-riddled body leaves no doubt in her mind that he is dead.
"Let's go inside, shall we?" Dupree says calmly. The shooting of Ed Murillo is of no more consequence to him than stepping on a bug would be to a sane man.
Jake is lying unconscious at the foot of the basement stairs, trussed up with his hands at his back and cuffed to his feet. There is a shallowness to Jake's breathing that worries Lillian but her chief concern is with Tristan. She, too, is unconscious and Lillian can only thank God for that. Tristan is naked and hanging by her hands with her head tilted back, exposing her throat. There are two knives on the floor beneath her feet - one long bladed and one short.
There is no blood on Tristan or on the floor at her feet. For that at least Lillian is immensely gratified.
But taking in her surroundings and the pitiful circumstances in which she finds herself it is very clear that there is depressingly little else for which to be thankful.
33
While Dupree busies himself inspecting and appraising Tristan's body Lillian kneels at Jake's side. When she places her hand on his forehead his eyes flicker open. "Oh, Jake," she whispers.
With great effort Jake manages to focus on Lillian's face but he's in desperately pitiful condition. Lillian removes the light weight sweater she's wearing and tucks it gently under Jake's head.
In a voice so faint it is barely more than a wind current Jake says, "Tristan?"
Lillian nods. "She's alive."
Jake closes his eyes and appears to drift again into unconsciousness. But when Lillian begins to stand, Jakes clutches her hand and tugs it to bring her closer. She leans over and puts her ear close to his mouth. "Stall him," Jake breaths. "They're coming."
Lillian knows this to be folly. No one is coming to save them. "Sure," she says to placate him.
"Your cell phone," he whispers. "They've tracked it."
Oh, my god, Lillian realizes in a sudden burst of optimism, he could be right. She was just about to make a call when Dupree burst into the car and she instinctively dropped the phone to the floor. She squeezes Jake's hand to acknowledge her understanding.
By now Dupree has become aware of the communication taking place between Jake and Lillian. "So … what schemes have you got brewing over there?" he asks playfully, not in the least fearful that there is any real cause for concern.
"Schemes? Hardly," Lillian responds.
"Well, do see what you can do to bring him around, would you? I was so hoping he'd be awake to witness what
I have in mind for his darling little girl."
Lillian makes a superficial effort to wake Jake up by patting his cheek.
"Oh, come now," Dupree chastises her. "You can do better than that." He fills a pale of water from a laundry tub in the corner and dowses Jake with it. The water has little effect beyond making Jake wet.
When Dupree doesn't get the response he had hoped for his interest in Jake wanes. He produces another set of handcuffs and locks Lillian's hands behind her back after wrapping them around a supporting beam. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" He chuckles to himself. "I do so love your little Americanisms." He returns to Tristan and bends down to pick up one of the knives.
"Do me a favor?" Lillian calls out.
Dupree turns to her. "But of course, my dear. Anything at all."
As Dupree gives his attention to Lillian she notices a slight movement taking place on the monitor at Dupree's back and a red light is emitting a dim glow. It takes every bit of determination she can muster not to divert her eyes from Dupree and give away what she has seen. "Tell me what made you what you became."
A dark look comes across Dupree's face. "What I became?"
"Yeah, tell me what made you into a raving lunatic."
Dupree takes a moment to look Lillian over, perhaps appraising her for the first time. "You know," he says, "it might not be such a bad idea to start with you. A bit of a warm-up exercise so to speak."
Lillian knows she's taking a serious chance in provoking him but she can think of no other way to keep him away from Tristan, at least for a little while. And with luck that's all it will take. "It makes you feel like a big man, does it? Cutting up defenseless women? What's the matter, did you run out of little girls?"
"You'd be well advised to watch your mouth, you filthy bitch."
THE FOURTH BULLET: A Novel of Suspense Page 16