Deadly Consequences

by Lori Gordon

  Without waiting for an answer, Hannah paused to glance over her shoulder, watching Thorpe vanish through another doorway. “William is a dear man, very focused on the animals. We’re lucky to have him, he’s the best there is, but he’s not as good with people as he is with animals.”

  Sam understood the director’s nervous chatter. Hannah was delaying the inevitable conversation. “Ms. Phillips…” She began.

  “Please, call me Hannah.” Her smile looked slightly forced. “Ms. Phillips is my grandmother, a woman who’s done remarkably well for herself.”

  Hannah sank down onto a metal folding chair across from a battered metal table, dropping her head in her hands. “Oh, God, how could this happen?” She raised watery eyes towards Sam. “I took over as director less than a year ago. I’m the first woman to hold this position. You know the press will crucify me.”

  Sam smiled, finding a common bond. “I was thinking the same thing myself earlier this evening. Any minute now, I’m expecting the mayor to demand my head on a silver platter.”

  Some of the tension drained from Hannah’s body. She gestured for Sam to sit. “It’s still not easy for us, is it? The higher we climb, the harder we fall. And if’s that’s not enough pressure, we’re still expected to care for our families, entertain, keep an immaculate house, and do our jobs harder and better than any man, just to prove we’re worthy to be paid less.”

  “It’s a hell of a life,” Sam remarked.

  Hannah burst into laughter. “I like you. You’re not the hard-assed cop I was expecting to meet.”

  “And you’re not the pompous asshole I thought I’d have to deal with.” Sam smiled.

  “What a relief, for both of us,” Hannah said, leaning back in her chair.

  The door slammed behind Thorpe as he returned carrying two bottles of water. He placed them on the table. “If I’m not needed, I’d like to go check on the animals?”

  Hannah nodded. “Of course, I know how much you worry about them.”

  Sam waited until Thorpe left before bringing Hannah up to speed, stressing her concerns about zoo security. Hannah listened intently, pulling out her smart phone when Sam was through. She punched in a series of commands, frowning at the phone.

  “I don’t understand. Miguel Sanchez, our head of security was on duty from four to twelve. He’s an outstanding employee, been with the zoo for seventeen years.”

  “Who relieved him?”

  “We have several security officers on duty, but Victor Vasquez is the overnight supervisor. He’s worked for us for five years, and is also a stellar employee.”

  “I need to see the surveillance footage, and I’ll need to speak to Miguel and Victor.”

  “Not a problem.” Hannah rose from her chair. “Their office is right down the hall. I’ll have Victor give Miguel a call and tell him to come in.”

  The door opened before they knocked. A haggard young man stood in the doorway, stepping aside so they could enter. Sam took one look at Victor’s pinched expression and instinctively wondered what he was hiding.

  “Miss Phillips, Detective,” Victor ran his hand over a day’s worth of stubble, motioning them towards a mismatched set of chairs. He leaned against a slim counter in front of a huge bank of monitors. Sam was able to view almost every angle of the zoo, and watch her men conduct the search.

  “Miss Phillips, I want you to know how sorry I am that this happened.” Victor gestured to the screens behind him. “It’s my fault. You’ll have my resignation in the morning.”

  Hannah gave him a pointed look. “Did you attack those women?”

  “No, Ma’am, of course not,” he said.

  “Did you watch someone attack them?” She asked.

  “No!”

  “Then, let’s hold off on any noble gestures until we have the whole story, okay?” Hannah said.

  “Yes, ma’am, thank you.” Victor sighed and pulled up a stool, perching on the edge. “Detective, I apologize for not coming out to meet with you personally. I got wrapped up in a situation.”

  “Obviously, tonight isn’t business as usual.” Sam crossed her legs, pulled out a worn notebook, and balanced it on her knee. “I’ll be honest with you, Victor. Three separate incidents occurred tonight. With all these monitors in place, it’s hard to understand how that could happen.”

  He raked his hands through his hair, exhaling a long stream of air. “Things got messed up tonight,” he said. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “You can start with telling me what time you came on duty.” Sam said.

  His face tightened. “My shift starts at six o’clock, but we can punch in up to fifteen minutes early. Same thing goes for punching out. Since day one, I’ve gotten here fifteen minutes early on the dot. At the end of the week, it adds up to an extra two-and-a-half hours on the paycheck, you know.” His dark brown eyes fixed on his boss. “Sorry, Miss Phillips, but it’s like workin’ an extra day each month, and a few of us guys, we need the money.”

  Hannah dropped her eyes. “Not a problem, Victor.” Sam got the impression that Hannah was embarrassed, as if she’d never realized how hard it was for some people to make ends meet.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Victor’s posture relaxed a bit. He drew another breath and faced Sam. “Miguel, my boss, is the straightest arrow you’re ever going to meet, a real decent guy. We got a rhythm going; he knows he can count on me to show up early.” Victor’s eyes flickered with guilt. “Today, for the first time, I was ten minutes late.

  “When I got here, Miguel was gone. Normally he wouldn’t leave early, but I’m thinkin’ he might have had a problem with his son.”

  “What kind of problem?” Sam asked. At this point in the investigation, every detail was important.

  Victor hesitated, uncomfortable with discussing his supervisor’s business.

  “You need to be straight with me, Victor. If what you tell me checks out, it may help eliminate Miguel as a suspect.”

  He gripped the edge of the stool, eyes widening in surprise. “You think Miguel is a suspect? No. No way.”

  “You know how this works, Victor. Everybody is a suspect until I can eliminate them.” She watched him carefully to see how he reacted.

  Relief flooded his face. “Okay, I get it, I understand. Miguel’s kid is fifteen. It’s a bad age. In some neighborhoods, when your fourteen, fifteen, you got to make some tough decisions. The kind of decisions that will affect the rest of your life, you know what I’m saying?”

  “Gangs?” Sam asked.

  “Gangs,” Victor nodded. “But it can be other trouble too. Drugs, jackin’ cars, petty theft. Miguel’s kids were doing okay, until his son started hanging with the wrong crowd a few months back. His cousin is bad news, but around the neighborhood, that makes him a big man. He graduates high school this year, but a lot of his crew will still be at the High School with Miguel’s son.”

  Victor stopped, picked up a cup of cold coffee, took a sip, and grimaced. “Miguel’s been working a lot of O/T and his wife’s pulling extra shifts at the hospital, so they can afford a better neighborhood, and get Junior into a different school next fall.”

  Sam tuned out three quarters into the story. She knew most of it was for Hannah’s benefit, to keep Miguel out of trouble. Needing to redirect the focus, she asked, “You said you clocked in at ten minutes after six?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Sam exchanged a glance with Hannah. If Miguel clocked out fifteen minutes early, they were looking at twenty-five minutes with the monitors unsupervised. Closing time, when it was up to security to help ensure every visitor left the zoo.

  When she looked back at Victor, his right foot was shaking. Perspiration clung to his forehead and upper lip. Sam slapped her notebook shut, reaching over him to set it on the counter. “Okay, Victor, what haven’t you told us?”

  “When I got here, the monitors were on the fritz again. None of them were working. We’ve done our best to keep them going the last couple of we
eks, but we aren’t electricians. The best we can do is a patch job, and pray they stay on.

  “Most times, they don’t all go down at once. We might lose half or a third, this time we lost them all. It took close to two hours for me to get fifty percent of them back up, another hour and change to bring back the rest.” He hung his head. “Ten minutes later, they shorted out again.”

  Harrah straightened in her chair. “If this has been happening for weeks, why hasn’t it been repaired?”

  “We put in a request a couple weeks back, and we keep following up, but we’re still waiting for approval.”

  The director’s lips tightened into a thin hard line. Sam knew if word of this leaked out, it wasn’t going to look good for Hannah. If the cameras hadn’t malfunctioned, none of them would be sitting here right now.

  Sam’s head snapped up. “Who knows about this problem?”

  “Our guys, purchasing, accounting, that’s all I know of for sure.”

  “And who has access to this room?” she asked.

  “Me, Miguel, our crew. I think Miss Phillips has a key, so would the zoo’s president, and Mr. Jacks, Miss Phillip’s assistant. Far as I know, that’s it.”

  “Can you confirm that and get back to me?” Sam turned to Hannah.

  “Of course.” Hannah clasped her hands in her lap, a shadow of worry in her eyes.

  “I need to talk to Miguel,” Sam said. “Can you get him on the phone and tell him I need to see him?”

  “Sure.”

  While Victor dialed, Hannah pushed her chair back, and paced the length of the room. “I can’t believe any of this is happening. How the hell does a request to fix our surveillance cameras sit on somebody’s desk for two weeks? It’s outrageous.”

  Sam said nothing, watching the shift in Victor’s body language. His face turned an ashen hue, and his hands were shaking by the time he hung up the phone. “Miguel’s wife said he never came home.”

  They had a viable suspect. Sam radioed for back up, feeling her heart thump in her chest. Miguel Sanchez had just graduated to their number one on the suspect list. With any luck, this would all be over soon.

  Too wired to sit, she leapt to her feet, startling Hannah. “Is there a way to check if Miguel ever clocked out?”

  Hannah blinked, a glazed look in her eyes. It took her a minute to process the question. “Yes, I can check the computer.”

  While Hannah accessed the time clock, Sam spun around to face Victor. Is there a lunchroom or locker room down here?” Sam asked.

  “Just vending machines, but I can take you to his locker.” Victor sank down on the stool. “No disrespect, Detective, but you don’t know Miguel like I do. He’s not your guy.”

  They said the same thing about Ted Bundy, and countless others.

  Alec burst through the door, Lombardo and Rafe at his heels. Sam quickly brought them up to speed.

  “Nice work,” Alec winked, patting her on the back.

  “I’m not ready to celebrate yet. We need proof first. Hannah, any luck?”

  The director’s voice was hollow. “He never clocked out.”

  Sam nodded to Victor. He led them down a short hallway, leaving them to search Miguel’s things on their own. Positioning herself in front of his locker, she nodded to Rafe to break the lock. He snapped it open with a pair of long nose pliers.

  “You want me to open it or do you want to do the honors?” Rafe said.

  “Go ahead.”

  Rafe swung the door open. Miguel Sanchez was stuffed inside, his throat slit from ear to ear.

  “Holy frickin’ crap.” Lombardo dropped his suit jacket. “They offed the head of security. That ain’t right.”

  “Close the locker,” Sam ordered. “Close the damn locker.” Her eyes drifted around the room. No blood, but the faint scent of ammonia. A shower stall off to the left. Twenty-five minutes to kill Miguel, shower, clean up, disable the camera’s, and then…what?

  “Damn it,” she swore. What the hell was she missing?

  Sam bolted from the locker room, feeling the burn of humiliation at her back. She’d liked Miguel as a possible suspect. He had access to the monitors and the grounds; he knew what areas his men would be patrolling. The pieces fit. A little too neat, she realized, cases like these never wrapped up that clean.

  She leaned against the wall and took a breath. A feeling nagged at her that Victor said something important, but she was damned if she knew what it was. A few feet away, in the locker room, she could hear Lombardo cracking jokes, the static from the radios, and Alec calling for the crime scene unit. She curled her hands into fists, listening to them as they started to work the scene. The sounds, the jokes, even the radio felt like needles digging into her skin. She needed to clear her head if she any chance of remembering what Victor said.

  Sam bounced off the wall, and raced up the concrete steps, pushing past the crime scene techs rushing down, wanting to be alone so she could replay the conversation.

  Following the series of hallways, she sighed with relief when she was back in the exhibit hall, jumping as a large black monkey swung towards her behind thick glass, emitting a shrill wail. On instinct, she pulled her gun, ready to confront her would be assailant, letting out a shaky laugh as she remembered where she was. In the ensuing chaos after discovering Miguel Sanchez’s body, she’d forgotten for a minute that she was in the primate house.

  Heat blasted her the second she opened the door. She forced her feet forward, searching for a place to sit. It took some walking, but she found a bench, sagging down on it with a tired sigh, her body warning her that she was running on fumes. What she really needed was a cup of coffee, but since that wasn’t an option, she stared down the path, watching the shadows of towering trees drifting over the grass. Sam leaned back, listening to the leaves rustle as a breeze finally picked up, stirring the night air.

  Images of Miguel Sanchez jammed into the locker swam before her, lifeless eyes, frozen in shock, the gaping wound that once was his throat. This victim had a name, a family, and a story destined to end badly. A man, working hard to give his son a better life, instead the kid would end up as one more casualty of the streets, succumbing to the gangs overrunning the inner city. It was a hell of a world they lived in, when random acts destroyed lives, and survivors meted out their own form of justice. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the pressure build inside her brain. The surveillance monitors weren’t going to help them. The UNSUB made sure of that.

  What the UNSUB couldn’t have known was that Victor Vasquez was going to be late. Sam unwrapped a Hersey’s kiss and popped it in her mouth. Was the security supervisor’s death premeditated, or was he a victim of circumstance?

  Sam crumbled the tiny slip of silver foil, working it between her fingers. Miguel Sanchez was a casualty. He didn’t matter to the UNSUB. Miguel’s death was the simplest way to circumvent the surveillance cameras while the UNSUB buried his grizzly treasures. A zoo employee might have known about the monitors being on the fritz, and decided to use them to his advantage. Once the UNSUB disposed of Miguel, he knew Victor would be tied up for hours trying to restore the feed, leaving him free to plant the amputated legs.

  She kept coming back to her original question. Why here, and why now? She thought of the old expression, you don’t shit where you eat. The same could apply to the UNSUB. Why kill, where he worked, placing himself on the CPD’s radar?

  Could be he liked to watch…or maybe he got off on control. That fit the profile. Control, sadism, amputation, the UNSUB was most likely a narcissist as well. In his deluded mind, he thought he was smarter than the police, to him, watching them scramble around like keystone cops was fodder for his ego.

  “Damn it.” Sam dropped her head into her hands, raking her hands through her hair. She knew one damn thing for sure. The odds of a group of teens hiding out in the zoo after hours on the same night a maniac decided to use the park as a killing field was too high for her taste.

  When she looked back up, Alec hovered
over her, gazing down at her with concern. “You took off mighty quick.”

  Sam didn’t have the heart to tell him she wanted to be alone. “I needed to think.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Any evidence turn up in the locker room?”

  Alec came around to sit beside her, the wooden bench creaking beneath him. “Wiped clean. When I left they were checking the shower for bloodstains.”

  Sam dropped her elbows to her thighs, resting her head in her hands. “There’ll be blood, but my guess is it will belong to Miguel.” She exhaled, ruffling her bangs. ‘I need to be doing something. This bastard is ten steps ahead of us and every time I think we take a step forward, another victim turns up. We have men everywhere. If he’s on the premises, where the hell is he hiding? He’s like a god damn ghost.”

  “A word of advice?” Alec said.

  “If it’ll help.”

  “You take each case too personal. You invest, and that messes with your head,” he said.

  Sam recoiled. His words were a slap in the face. “Weren’t you the one who told me a little while ago that I’m a good cop?”

  “You are.” He sighed, reaching for her hand. “The job is hard, the shit we see, the stuff we deal with, it’s not easy. It’s why we joke, why some cops drink, why others gamble. We need a way to disconnect because at the end of the day, if we don’t have that, the job will eat through our souls.”

  Her head swiveled in his direction. Sam tried to read his expression, but shadows danced across his face, making it impossible to see. She waited for him to continue. When he said nothing she blinked, “That’s it? That’s your advice?”

  He grinned sheepishly. “I was hoping you’d read between the lines.”

  “I’m not in the mood for games, Alec. I came out here to think.” She leaned back on the bench. “I’m not about to eat my gun, or do anything stupid if that’s where you’re headed.”

  “Not yet anyway,” he muttered.

  Anger glittered in her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You treat every case as if you have something to prove. You identify the victims with your sister, and because you feel like everybody failed Melanie, you have this anger churning inside of you that makes it impossible for you to let go. Hard as we try, we don’t always find the bad guys. This isn’t the type of job where you can think with your heart, Sam You have to use your head.”