“This might be a stretch, but I think our unsub may have stolen money from Hall’s account online.”
“Well, why not just take his debit card? Credit cards? All those things were left at the crime scene,” Grafton said.
“The killer wanted more time, and cards are easily tracked,” Zach said, punching at more keys.
“I still don’t understand,” Grafton began. “They’d just take the debit card to an ATM, take out the money, and flee.”
“And they’d risk getting caught on camera,” I spoke up. It got me a sour expression from the detective.
Zach kept his eyes on the monitor as he spoke to us. “What people often make the mistake of doing is allowing Google or their search engine of choice to remember their passwords. Hall didn’t do this.”
“How are you going to get in, then?” Grafton asked, seeming more agitated than curious.
“I have my ways.”
“You’ll have his records pulled,” Grafton said sternly.
Zach shrugged. “There are other things we can try first. People often use programs to store passwords.”
“I use one of those. They say they’re secure.” A faint hint of panic sounded in Grafton’s voice.
“Nothing online is secure.”
Grafton audibly swallowed. I knew what he’d be doing the second he left here.
“I’m opening Hall’s e-mail program.” Zach provided a narrative to what he was doing.
“And what’s that going to tell you?”
Jack, Paige, and I just remained quiet and let Zach take the reins on this.
Zach didn’t respond to Grafton right away. The program opened, and he went to the contacts tab. “People sometimes keep their passwords in this section,” he explained. He smiled. “And there it is. SecureIt. The name of a password collection service is right here.” Zach opened the window, and sure enough, just as he had predicted, there was a username and password.
“I’ll be damned,” Grafton moaned.
I smiled at Jack, who didn’t return the expression. Paige had one of her own tucked away but didn’t make eye contact with me.
Zach entered the information for SecureIt, and in seconds, he had the ability to access all Hall’s online accounts, including his banking. He went back to the log-in screen and had access to Hall’s accounts in less than five seconds. The balances on the three accounts were minimal, but there was a sizable 401(k) showing for sixty thousand dollars. A credit card showed a balance of $575.43.
Zach worked through the accounts and struck a find on the third. He pressed a finger to the transaction. “A transfer of five thousand was made as of yesterday’s date.”
“I still don’t understand. Why not take the cash from an ATM and run?” Grafton was one stubborn son of a bitch.
Zach turned to look at him now. “He’d never have gotten that amount from the machine. Hall’s ATM limit was a thousand.” He maneuvered to another screen and pointed out this fact.
“So two questions… Why did our killer take—or need—so much money, and was it part of the killer’s motive?” I asked.
“Add a third, Brandon,” Paige said. “How did they know Hall had any money to take in the first place?”
“Was it motive for the murder?” Grafton asked, seeming lost.
“Given the other aspects of the case, no,” Jack stamped out. “It was an added bonus.”
“Payment for his troubles,” Grafton mumbled.
“Yeah, something like that,” I said.
“Well, wouldn’t the bank flag a sizable transfer like that?” Grafton was like a dog with a bone.
“Not necessarily,” Zach began. “And if they did, it would likely take a few days.” He glanced at me, then Paige, then Jack, and back to Grafton. “And if that’s the case, our unsub planned ahead.”
-
Chapter 23
WE LEFT HALL’S HOUSE and returned to the Hyatt where the four of us gathered in Jack’s room. We were able to ditch Grafton, and there was no sign of Sam. Jack had his cell phone to his ear.
“Nadia, dig further. You found Malone, and I’m guessing there’s more. Expand the search to the entire United States.” He paced a few steps and continued. “The forensic evidence pulled from Hall’s crime scene is being forwarded to Quantico, if it’s not there already. I need you to follow it through, and let us know if the results trigger anything in the system. This case is ours now.” Then he paused, listening. “Yes, Paige was released to my custody. But we’re going to still need to prove her innocence.” Another pause on Jack’s end. Based on his grimace and the way his eyes darted around the room, not settling on any of us in particular, Nadia was saying something that wasn’t making him too happy. After a few more seconds, he said, “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter now.”
I sensed that it did matter. And it probably had something to do with Paige. My guess? Nadia had helped Paige find Ferris Hall.
“I also need you to track the money transfer made from Hall’s bank account as of yesterday’s date for five thousand. See if you can find out if Malone had money taken from his account at his time of death, too.”
Jack put his phone away. “All right. Let’s talk.”
“I’ve been thinking about why the killer took the money, and I don’t think it was the motive,” Paige said.
Zach nodded. “There’s nothing to indicate our unsub is using money as part of their criteria to choose their victims.”
Paige looked at me. “I agree with Zach, and I definitely think the unsub is primarily targeting rapists. The victims’ histories and the Rohypnol are just too obvious.”
“We need to get concrete proof that Malone’s and Hall’s murders are connected,” Jack began. “Until forensic findings come back on Hall, we’ll all focus on Malone. Let’s see if maybe we can find a connection in their lives, too, aside from the way they were killed.”
“What do you suggest, Jack?” Paige asked.
“Kyle Malone was found in his apartment by the building manager. You and Zach go talk to him.”
“We could talk to some of Malone’s neighbors from back then, too,” Paige suggested.
“Sounds good,” Jack said.
Zach nodded. “We’re on it. All of it.”
“While you’re doing that, Brandon and I will talk to Malone’s supervisor from his last recorded job.”
-
Chapter 24
ZACH WAS DRIVING, as he usually did, and Paige was in the passenger seat wishing she had something to say. But as much as she didn’t love the silence, she didn’t much feel like talking. Nadia had called and told them three tenants from Malone’s time still lived in the building. They’d go find them after they spoke to the building manager.
In the quiet, her thoughts were on Brandon. She couldn’t get over how fast he had made his way to her at Ferris’s, how he pulled her into his arms, and then how tightly he had held her. Being so close to him was so comforting given what she had been through. It felt natural… Why couldn’t her feelings for him just go away? She had Sam now. But she hated the way Brandon kept looking at her as if she were some fragile glass vase. She didn’t need his pity or his support. And Sam…he seemed more angry than empathetic. Brandon must have told Sam that she’d used her one call on him. Had he just spouted it out in some argument just to hurt Sam? Brandon did have a temper and an ego… Or did it come out unintentionally? If Sam pushed him, Brandon probably wouldn’t hesitate to bring up the phone call. When she had a chance, she’d have to ask Brandon about it. It was the only way she’d be able to figure out how to tackle the situation with Sam.
God, she hated this. But what she disliked the most about the last twenty-four hours—and surprisingly it wasn’t her time behind bars or that the FBI director knew she’d been suspected of murder—was how she had disappointed Jack.
And while Jack was showing his normal drive to find a killer, she worried he might be seeing something that wasn’t there this time. It was quite possible that the person who had killed Ferris was not the same one who had killed Malone. Jack might have been reaching to link the two cases. And their team normally investigated only when there was no question of serial killer involvement or if murders crossed state lines. So far, neither of those criteria had been established. But she would put everything she could into getting the answers. If they could prove Malone and Ferris were the victims of one killer, then she’d feel a little relief, as if this whole nightmare had been for some greater purpose. She didn’t think she’d ever fully forgive herself for placing Jack and the rest of the team in the position of proving her innocence, though. Whatever happened to the evidence doing that?
She glanced over at Zach.
He took his attention from the road briefly and smiled at her. “How are you doing?”
“That’s the question of the week, isn’t it?” She laughed, even though her heart wasn’t in it.
“Yeah, I guess it would be. I’m—”
She held up her hand. “No need to apologize. I still think I’ll wake up and it will have all been a very bad dream.”
“I bet.” He looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses.
He didn’t need to say any more. Anyone who had been in her position would have wished for it to be the result of an overactive imagination. She knew that she should shake off the entire experience and move on, but she was finding that hard to do. Maybe because of the way Jack would look at her periodically, as if he’d lost some of his admiration for her and she’d have to earn it back. The only way to do that was over time and with hard work. Jack’s respect wasn’t given easily. It was this fact that hurt her more than anything. Their relationship went back so many years. Everyone else in her life—Zach, Brandon, Sam—were new acquaintances in comparison to Jack. She had met him back when she was working in New York, before she taught at the training academy. She’d just have to sink herself into this case and prove herself to Jack again.
With that, images from Ferris’s and Malone’s murders flooded her mind. She had a feeling she’d remember them until her last breath.
“The coroner said that Malone’s mutilation took place while he was alive, right?” she asked Zach.
He nodded. “Just like Hall’s.”
A wave of nausea crashed over her, and bile rose in her throat. She clamped her mouth shut and swallowed, willing the sensation to pass.
Zach turned into the lot for Malone’s apartment building, and she was glad when the car came to a standstill in a parking spot and Zach cut the engine.
“The building manager’s name is Roy Nichols, and he’s been in the role for ten years,” Zach said, refreshing her on the details.
“So four of those years were before Malone was murdered.”
“That would be the math,” he teased and opened his door. He must have noticed she hadn’t moved. He looked back over a shoulder. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Heck, if Zach could work this case being a man, with all that mutilation, who was she to play faint of heart? She opened her car door. “Let’s do this.”
THE MANAGER’S APARTMENT HAD BEEN easy to find, and Roy Nichols, an older man with a dusting of gray hair, had answered the door on the first knock.
“Kyle Malone? Wow, I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” he said, pushing his oval-shaped glasses up his nose. “Not that I’ll ever forget it.”
Roy invited them into his apartment and led them to a living room. While he fit the image of a grandfather, his dwelling was sparsely decorated with only a couple of framed photographs on an end table. Both pictures were of the same woman. Paige guessed it was a late wife. In the corner of the small living room was a compact piano, and a brass crucifix hung on the wall above it.
“Are you a religious person?” she asked, bobbing her head toward the cross.
His gaze followed to where she had indicated. “Yes, you could say that. Darla was more so than me, but yes, I believe in God and the Devil. And that Malone…”
“That Malone?” Zach prompted.
“He brought the Devil to this building.” Roy made the sign of the cross on his chest. The deeply etched ridges in his brow compressed, creating distinct rows.
Based on his age and traditional religious background, he was likely prejudiced against Malone’s lifestyle. “Is that because he was homosexual?” Paige pressed him.
“I know in this day and age the proper thing to say would be, So what? Let everyone live his life without judgment. But maybe some of what Darla used to say stuck. I believe God made man and woman, not man and man, for a reason.” His cheeks were becoming bright red.
Roy apparently clung to religion more than he realized. Paige was keeping a close eye on the man’s body language, and based on the hardness of his eyes and the way he kept swallowing, he was both angry and uncomfortable with their presence and the topic of discussion. Was Roy involved with Malone’s murder somehow? Or was it simply guilt for not feeling remorse over the loss of life? She wondered what kept the old man in the building. As Roy had said, Malone had “brought the Devil.”
“Mr. Nichols, why did you stay here after Mr. Malone’s murder?” Paige asked. “Why not move?”
Roy looked back and forth between her and Zach. “Why should I have moved? I’d done nothing wrong. It was the sinner.”
It? Sinner? Ouch.
Sadly, Paige felt that Roy likely had viewed Malone as less than human for his lifestyle choices.
Roy waved a finger at Paige. “I see how you feel about my beliefs. It’s all over your face, but it doesn’t matter. You may also think I’m living in the past, but I tell you—” Roy let out a whistle “—he opened my eyes. And then finding him… I’ll never forget that day. Still have nightmares.” Roy was gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my sixty-eight years.” He paused. “Well, I was sixty-two at the time, but you know what I mean. Nothing before and nothing since compares to that.” He signed another cross and then, as if he’d finally become aware of what he was doing, dropped his hands.
“We’d like you to tell us more about when you found him,” Paige said.
“You want me to relive that again? It would all be on record. Detectives interviewed me at great length.”
Zach nodded. “We’re aware of that.”
“Good. Then read the record.”
“Mr. Nichols, if you could just humor us. His murder has never been solved,” Paige entreated him.
“I figured as much. And they brought the FBI in? What’s so important about one faggot reaping the results of his lifestyle?”
Whoa! Paige’s vision instantly flared red with rage. Roy did well hiding behind the glasses and the sweet-grandfather look, but on the inside, he was rotten from his prejudice. She wanted to lash out with He was a human being, but what would be the point? A man of Roy’s distorted views would never be able to comprehend that every person’s life was just as valuable as the next.
She clasped her hands instead and angled her head. “You think he deserved to be tortured and murdered?” It took all her willpower to water down the contempt she was feeling.
“I think that everyone reaps what they sow,” Roy said, his voice cold and hard.
Paige took a deep breath—in through her nose, out through her mouth. She wasn’t naive enough to think that discrimination against those who chose an alternative lifestyle would ever completely go away. Unfortunately, judging others was woven into the fabric of society. But like rust, it ate away at society, tearing apart families and friends. All because a person chose to be true to who they were. What a sad state.
“And what exactly did he ‘reap’?” she asked, not able to let it go.
<
br /> Zach cleared his throat. “I think what Agent Dawson means by that is, who or what caught up with Mr. Malone?”
“Who or what? The answer’s clear. The man was murdered,” Roy ground out. “It was because of his lifestyle. He liked men, isn’t that enough?”
“No,” Paige responded coolly.
“I’m sorry if you’re offended, but it’s God’s law that—”
“Do you know anyone who would have hated him this much?” Paige was in no mood—and never would be—to discuss the stand of a biased, self-righteous man.
Roy seemed taken aback by Paige’s interruption. He shook his head, but not in response so much as apparent dislike. “Read the record.”
“Mr. Nichols, we have read the reports,” she snapped. “We’re here because we want to hear it straight from you.”
“You want to hear it straight from me? That faggot”—he glanced at Paige, seemingly for the sole purpose of provoking her—“got what was coming to him. Now, whether you want to believe that or not is up to you. But when he’d go out clubbing, which was most nights of the week, and bring different people home, what do you expect is going to eventually happen? Something bad. And if you”—he pointed a finger at Paige now—“think otherwise, then you’re blind.”
“You said he went out clubbing?” Zach intercepted.
“I don’t know if it was clubbing, but he went out at all hours. Liked the bars.”
“And how do you know this? It doesn’t seem like you two were close,” Paige said.
Roy glared at her. “People talk.”
“Any specific bar or club?” Zach asked, breaking the growing tension between Paige and Roy.
Roy looked back at Zach. “Wild Horse.”
“And that’s a gay bar?”
“No, I don’t think so. Clancy’s, out in LA, was, but it’s long gone. Wild Horse is a honky-tonk out in Canyon Country. It’s still there, I believe.”
Paige stood. They had enough to move on now, and if she didn’t leave this man’s apartment soon, she’d lose more than just her professionalism. Maybe it was the time she had spent behind bars, wrongly accused, but she was angry right down to her core. Proper upbringing taught people to respect their elders, but Roy Nichols was one man who didn’t deserve anyone’s respect.
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