by Robin Mahle
“What do you know about Shalot?” Gibbons’ straight-for-the-throat method was well known, although Katie had never experienced it first-hand.
“He’s in my Criminal Justice class that I have twice a week, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. I’ve talked to him maybe a handful of times. That’s it.” She began to shift uncomfortably, as if a spotlight had been trained on her.
“You don’t know if he was dating anyone or where he lived or anything other than the fact that he was in your class?”
“I’m sorry, detective, but no. Like I said, I hardly spoke to him.”
Gibbons looked to Garza and continued. “I understand you have a friend at the FBI. An Agent Scarborough?”
“Yes.” Most people in the department knew what had happened to her and she didn’t feel the need to elaborate on the relationship.
“Can you tell me what you know about the so-called ‘Highway Hunter’?” Gibbons moved to his desk chair and sat down, looking Katie squarely in the eyes.
“Not much. I’ve got a friend at Channel Nine who asked me to put a call into Agent Scarborough. I wasn’t even sure if he was on the case, but it turns out that he was.” Katie thought back to the Nick’s words, knowing she needed to honor his request to keep things off book. “He said he couldn’t divulge any more than what the media already knew, so I thanked him and left it at that.”
“And that was it? He didn’t mention any of the specifics of the case?”
“Well, no. He didn’t. I wouldn’t say that he and I have a particularly close relationship. We’re friends in the loosest sense of the term. He and I had been through a lot in the past, but that was in the past. We don’t hang around the same circles.” She was working to read Gibbons, wondering why the pointed questions. Could Shalot have said something to make them believe she knew more than she was letting on? For that matter, what the hell did Shalot know anyway?
“Were you aware that Edward Shalot was dating the victim?”
“I’m sorry, no. I wasn’t aware of that at all.” Hadn’t she already stated she hardly knew the man?”
“Okay.” Gibbons rose again. “Thank you for your help, Katie. We appreciate it.”
Katie pushed up from the chair. “Do you believe this was the work of the ‘Highway Hunter’?”
“The captain’s put a call into your Agent Scarborough. He’s on his way here.”
Although she hadn’t known this, it didn’t come as a surprise. They must believe the murders are connected.
On her way out, she retrieved her phone and noticed several missed calls and a few text messages. Most were from Marc, but two were from Scarborough. It seemed he wanted to tell her he was coming down. His flight was due to land in a few hours.
This morning, Katie thought her only involvement in this case would be to take a look at a few of the files. Backgrounds of the victims and such, looking for any connection. She didn’t believe for a moment that Scarborough really needed her help. Instead, he was giving her another chance. A chance to see that this was the type of work she should be doing, but things had now changed dramatically. With her personal knowledge of the man who called it in, her involvement had just become compulsory.
Katie reached Marshall’s office. He looked as though he was expecting her.
“Close the door.” Before she had a chance to say anything, he started in. “What the hell’s going on, Kate? You know this guy?”
“It’s not like he’s a personal friend of mine. He’s in one of my classes. That’s it. I didn’t know he was the one who called it in.” Word had clearly already reached Marshall.
“Did you know the victim had filed a restraining order on the guy just yesterday?”
Katie was taken aback by this little tidbit of information that Gibbons seemed to gloss over. “No. I had no idea. I’m telling you, Marshall. I really don’t know the guy from Adam. He’s talked to me a few times. Asked me out for coffee after class. That’s it.”
“You never mentioned going out for coffee with a classmate.”
“That’s because I never accepted the offers.” Her brow creased in response to his critical tone. “Come on. I would have told you if I’d socialized with anyone from class.”
“I know.” Marshall didn’t seem to want to believe she had somehow become a reluctant participant in the situation. “I was just surprised to find out you knew this guy. He shouldn’t have been there this morning. He had a restraining order against him. That’s the part that scares me. I don’t know, Kate. I don’t like how this is going, and now Scarborough’s coming? Did you know about that? You said you’d talked to him recently.”
“I didn’t know he was coming until Gibbons said something. Then, when I left his office, I found a message from Nick on my phone. He’s gonna be here in a few hours. I just can’t help but think there’s no way this could be the same guy, not after Nick had just found a victim in Colorado. Not to mention this woman was killed in her home and not dragged onto the side of the highway like the others.”
“Yeah, well, there seem to be too many other similarities. I guess we’ll know more when Scarborough gets here.” Marshall paused for a moment, appearing to study Katie’s expression. “You sure you can handle this? I don’t know if this Shalot is involved or not, but I can’t say I’m happy about you getting dragged into this thing.”
“I can handle it, Marshall. Just, please, don’t worry so much about me. I’m not as fragile as you think I am.”
“I know you’re not, Kate. But with everything that’s happened over the past few weeks…” Marshall cast his eyes towards her midsection. “I just want to be sure you’re up for this—physically, you know?”
Katie put on a thin smile. “I’m fine. Besides, wasn’t it you who said I’d be better suited as a detective? Well, I may get the chance to prove my skills.”
***
The plane rolled to a stop and Nick immediately turned on his phone. He began scrolling through his emails when the flight attendants finally opened the doors. The woman sitting next to him nudged his shoulder.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but would you mind opening the overhead bin and taking down my bag for me?”
Nick took notice of the bump in her belly and figured he should help her out. “Of course.” He rose to retrieve her bag along with his and placed it in the middle seat.
The other passengers began filing out of the aircraft, and as Nick made his way through the concourse, his felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He swiped the screen and began to read the text from Katie. “I know the guy who called it in. Come see me as soon as you can.”
Protocol had to be followed and that meant a briefing with the Chief of Police first. She wasn’t likely to be happy about his arrival. The last thing any local law enforcement wanted was a serial killer in their city. It was only a matter of time before the connection, or possible connection was leaked to the media as well, adding further fuel to the fire.
Nick still had his doubts. This one just didn’t follow the killer’s MO. Agent Myers, who was due in on the next flight with Jameson, had begun to put together a fairly extensive profile of the killer now that they had three bodies to deal with. She and Jameson were all he had at the moment and they were both desperately trying to wrap things up in Colorado. The video from the gas station in Richmond hadn’t led anywhere, not yet. All of this was happening too fast and they couldn’t keep up with the killer.
Nick needed Myers’ expertise to determine if the San Diego victim was likely the result of the same person thought to have taken the other three lives. It was possible, of course, that the two crimes could be committed inside such a short period of time, but from what Nick knew of the unsub so far, it was that he preferred to take his time with this victims. The precision with which the incisions were made, the careful placement of the body and the flowers. It was as if he’d been preparing the victims for a formal viewing, however gruesome the display.
Now he would have to deal with this one in San Diego
. It seemed the likelihood of a copycat killer was becoming increasingly probable. It would have to be someone who had a contact on the inside, though, if that was the case. No one knew about the flowers or the v-shaped carvings. No one outside law enforcement.
The customer service rep behind the rental car counter handed Nick the key to his mid-sized sedan. “I hope this will be all right for you.”
Nick grabbed the key. “It’ll be fine, thank you.” His was a little disappointed, though. It was the same mid-sized car most of the agents drove now and he was kind of hoping for something a little sportier.
He reached the parking lot and pressed the remote to unlock the door, tossing his bag in the back seat. It was a short drive to the station. Nick wondered what would await him there. The victim would have already been transferred from the scene and so he would find himself at yet another medical examiner’s office. The idea of working on something like white collar crimes sounded very appealing to him at this particular moment.
Nick pulled into parking garage of the station, leaving his bag inside. He’d have to check in at the hotel later, having no idea how long he’d be in San Diego. At this rate, he expected another body to pop up at any time.
It seemed word had already reached the media as Nick spotted a handful of reporters hovering in the lobby. They twirled their visitor badges while on the phone, looking as though they had very important information to share.
He approached the front desk. “I’m here to see Chief Wyatt. Special Agent Nick Scarborough.” Nick showed the woman his badge. It appeared she had been expecting him.
“I’ll let her know you’re here. Please have a seat.”
Nick had no intention of going near the reporters and instead meandered a few feet away, waiting to be called up.
It took several more minutes before the chief was ready to see him. Nick was escorted through the building and into Chief Wyatt’s office.
She stood behind an oversized dark walnut desk, her back turned, peering through the window. Chief Maureen Wyatt had been in the job for two years. She presided over nearly three thousand staff, an annual budget of almost half a billion dollars and all while maintaining a political neutrality, which proved challenging on a daily basis. Today, she would be forced to concede control, and when Nick walked into the room, it was apparent that she was not happy about it.
“Agent Scarborough?” She moved from behind her desk, hand extended, and greeted the agent. “I’m Maureen Wyatt. Very nice to meet you.”
Nick returned the greeting. “Chief Wyatt, the pleasure’s mine.” He took a seat at her suggestion.
“I’m sorry to be here under such unpleasant circumstances, chief. I trust you’re already well aware of the situation?”
Wyatt pulled her chair out and sat down. “Unfortunately, yes. I’ve been briefed by my assistant chief and captain. Have you been to the scene yet?”
“No, ma’am, I haven’t. I’m hoping to get out there as soon as possible, though.”
“Of course. If it turns out that you believe this is the work of your suspect, I’d still like to offer any assistance you need for as long as you’re here. I have to tell you, though, I hope it isn’t. I’ve got a lobby full of reporters looking for a sensational headline and, once that happens, these things tend to take on a life of their own.”
“I’ll know more after I get out there. Can I see the detective working the case? I’d like to get started right away.”
“Understood. Detective Gibbons is waiting for you. I’ll have someone take you to him.”
Nick stood up and turned towards the door.
“Agent Scarborough?”
“Yes?” Nick turned on his heel.
“My officers are extraordinary men and women who put their lives on the line every day. They do what they can and by the book as much as they can. If this turns out to be the work of your guy, don’t yank the rug out from under them. They deserve every consideration and you’ll get it in return tenfold.”
Nick expected something of this nature to be said. This was usually where the local guys felt the need to defend their cases and how they’d been handled. “Chief Wyatt, I have no intentions of trying to make your people look bad. I know exactly what they do because I’m in the trenches with them. Thank you for your time, ma’am.” He walked through the door, gently pulling it closed behind him.
8
THE AFTERNOON SUN was disappearing behind the white clouds as Nick stepped off the front porch of Lindsay Brown’s home. Lack of sleep and general mental exhaustion made his eyes overly sensitive, even in the muted light, and so he placed his sunglasses on his face.
“So what do you think?” Detective Gibbons asked.
“Until we see the coroner, I won’t know what exactly we’re dealing with here. But I can tell you that it appears as though this woman likely knew her killer. The broken bedroom window? Unless you’re familiar with the layout of a house, how would you know to pick that window? Not to mention that it seems an odd choice to break in through when most people would choose to enter through a room in which they believed no one was present. Ms. Brown would have heard the window break and probably would have had time to get out through the front door by the time the person climbed over the frame and entered her room.”
“I gotta agree with you on that point. The man who found her is still down at the station.” Gibbons noticed the time on his watch. “At least, he will be for a little while longer. The son of a bitch had a restraining order against him from this woman. It just doesn’t make sense that he’d be the one to find her and call it in.”
Nick struggled to come to terms with the idea that Edward Shalot could be the killer. “We need to see the body; talk to the examiner. If the man you have did it, he would have to have known some very specific details about my investigation.”
“We’ve got an evidence technician who knows him. She says he was in a class with her, but she had never said more than a few words to him.”
“I’m aware. Katie Reid and I go way back. I’d like to have a word with her when we get back to the station.”
“Okay. Hop in.” Detective Gibbons unlocked his car.
***
Agent Scarborough and Gibbons arrived at the County Medical Examiner’s office, where Lindsay Brown’s body had been transported.
Gibbons approached the front desk. “Detective Gibbons and Agent Scarborough here to see Dr. Napier.”
The receptionist buzzed the office of the ME, Dr. Sheila Napier. “I have an Agent Scarborough and Detective Gibbons here to see you.” A short pause, and then she resumed. “Thank you. I’ll send them right over.” She placed the phone down. “Go to the end of the hall and take the elevator down to lower level one. You’ll find Dr. Napier in the room labeled ‘Private: Staff Only.’ She’s expecting you.”
A latch released and Gibbons pushed the door open. Nick followed closely behind, walking inside the large and sterile room. He’d seen far too many of these places already, especially in more recent days.
Along the back wall was what appeared to be a cooler; a steel frame, housing six smaller doors where Nick figured they kept the bodies. The highly polished tiled floor bounced the overhead fluorescent lighting around the room and off of the stainless steel tables. He counted ten separate stations, each with its own storage, sink, and table.
“Dr. Napier, this is Special Agent Nick Scarborough with the FBI,” Gibbons said.
“You’ll excuse me if I don’t shake your hand, Agent Scarborough. We’ve already begun our external examination.” The doctor continued taking photographs of Lindsay Brown’s face. Her assistant pulled down the sheet that covered the body to capture additional photos. “Good to see you again, detective.”
Dr. Napier continued on. “I don’t normally see the FBI down here. Although Detective Gibbons has informed me that there is reason to suspect this victim may be linked to a series of deaths?” She handed her assistant the camera and began removing the plastic bags that h
ad been tied around Lindsay’s hands to preserve evidence.
“That’s what we’re here to determine. Would it be possible to see the incision on the victim’s chest?”
Dr. Napier looked up at Nick, appearing annoyed at the request. She was meticulous and took steps in their necessary order, but reluctantly obliged his request. “Well, as you can see,” the doctor aimed her gloved pinky at the “Y” incision that examiners use as a dissection technique, “this individual began the incision. However, rather than the traditional ‘Y,’ this person carved out a ‘V,’ ending at the navel.” Her finger gently grazed the skin along the wound for emphasis. “It’s a haphazard attempt at precision. Clearly, whoever did this did not use a medical instrument or, if he or she did, the instrument was blunted. My guess right now would be something along the lines of a pocket knife. And, the instrument did not penetrate the tissue completely; it merely reached the superficial fascia. No muscle or bone has been breached. This was not how the victim died and, until I get to the internal exam, I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you for now.”
“How soon will you have results back?” Gibbons asked.
“This shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours. However, you’ll have to wait for labs. I’ll be scraping for DNA under the nails and such, but getting the results back will take some time.”
“I think I’ve seen enough for now, Dr. Napier. Thank you, and I’m sure Detective Gibbons will be waiting for your call.”
The doctor returned to her work, but raised her head again as the men were leaving. “Agent Scarborough, from what you’ve seen here, do you believe it is the work of your Highway Hunter?”
“If it isn’t, it’s a damn good imitation. Thank you for your assistance, Dr. Napier.”