“I’ve got people over at the bar, too, so we’ll see if that can provide any leads,” Grafton said, getting right down to business.
“This case is the FBI’s,” Jack stated.
“Uh, yeah, I know, but—”
“That means we’re in charge.”
Grafton’s cheeks went red, and he nodded. “Just tryin’ to help.”
Paige and Zach pulled up then and parked behind our rental.
Grafton’s gaze slid behind me, and I assumed he was looking at Paige. There even seemed to be something apologetic in his eyes.
“What are your initial thoughts?” I asked Grafton, trying to take his focus off Paige.
“Where is he?” Jack demanded, sidestepping my question. He took the lead through the front door.
“His bedroom. It’s up the stairs and to the right.” Grafton followed directly behind Jack; Zach, Paige, and I took up the rear.
What we gathered about our unsub so far was that she contemplated her actions before carrying them out. As a result, I’d wager that our unsub was already in the house when Simpson got home.
“Were there signs of a break in?” I asked Grafton.
He nodded. “The back door. But whoever did this knew what they were doing. There was only a faint indication—a little paint scraped from the doorframe and small scratches on the brass lock.”
“Make sure to swab for trace. Have you talked to the neighbors yet?”
Why am I the only one asking questions?
“Officers are canvassing now. Simpson’s closest neighbors were asleep at the time and don’t recall hearing anything suspicious.”
I would ask if Simpson had been drugged, but it was too soon to tell. Besides, if the killer had adhered to her regular MO, Simpson would have been conscious when she’d attacked him. “Is the back entrance secluded?”
“Yeah. Simpson has a six-foot privacy fence around the backyard.”
I nodded, stepping onto the upstairs landing. The smell of death washed over me now. Simpson hadn’t had much time to decompose, but he would’ve lost control of his bowels when he died. In addition to the stench of shit was the metallic smell of blood. I mentally prepared myself as I stepped through the doorway into Simpson’s bedroom.
The coroner—a gray-haired man with round glasses—was working over the body and paused to acknowledge Jack with a bob of his head. The investigators around him were snapping shots of the scene. But my attention wasn’t really on them. It was on Simpson.
He was naked on the bed. Excrement stained the sheets. Blood was everywhere. Like Malone and Hall, his genitals were mutilated and his penis severed. A pill sat on his abdomen alongside the word GUILTY, which had been written in blood. Also unlike the previous two cases, Simpson’s femoral artery was slit.
Bile hurtled up my throat. It took all my willpower not to expel it. The smell was overwhelming, but there was no way I could leave. Paige and Zach were behind me and Jack was right there, too. It was bad enough that I had vomited at a crime scene in the past. The last thing I needed was to be responsible for contaminating this crime scene.
I briefly closed my eyes before taking in Simpson. Again, a wave of nausea swept over me.
“Was Simpson urinated on?” Jack asked Grafton.
“No.”
Jack tapped the pocket that held his cigarettes. “Did you look at Simpson’s background?”
“Yeah, no record.”
I swallowed and tried to center myself.
Focus on the facts…
I turned away from the body. “We should speak to the girlfriend and see what she has to say about Simpson. Malone didn’t have any assaults on his record, either, but apparently that didn’t mean anything.”
Zach nodded. “Our unsub knows more about her victims’ lives than any database.”
“We were able to talk to the girlfriend a bit before she was hauled off in an ambulance.” Grafton paused, looking around at us. “When we first arrived on scene, she was passed out in the hallway. It turns out she can’t stand the sight of blood,” he explained. “She swears Simpson was an upstanding guy and said she can’t think of any reason why someone would do this. As for Simpson’s records, all I really got was that he owned and operated Wild Horse for the past six years. There wasn’t even a mark on the company’s records. He operates in the black, and his personal credit is clean.”
“Time of death?” Jack asked.
The coroner, who hadn’t really paid us much attention so far, turned to us now. “Based on liver temp, I’m placing death between two and four this morning.”
“So he wasn’t dead long before his girlfriend found him,” I said, stating the obvious. “He would have just closed up the bar and come home. The unsub likely was already inside the house waiting for him.”
Grafton turned toward the four of us, gesturing us to the hallway. “What are you guys thinking?”
“You’re aware that Hall and Malone were connected,” Jack said. “But you might not know that it’s Simpson who connects them.”
-
Chapter 34
GRAFTON ANGLED HIS HEAD AT what Jack had said about Simpson connecting Malone and Hall. “How’s that?” he asked.
Jack told him both Malone and Hall were customers of Simpson’s and that he saw a woman with long, dark, curly hair around both men. I was surprised by how much Jack was sharing, as he usually withheld more.
“So you’re thinking it was a woman?” Grafton slipped a glance to Paige. “But that doesn’t fit with—”
“The unsub we’re looking for has an intersex condition,” Zach explained. “Physically, this person is both male and female but identifies more with the female gender. She has the full-developed parts of a man, but inside, she feels like a woman. So for all intents and purposes, our unsub is female.”
Grafton’s mouth was slightly agape.
“We think that she was raped,” Zach said.
“You believe that Malone was his…er, her first murder?” Grafton asked while facing Zach.
“It seems likely.”
Grafton’s phone rang, and he stepped down the hall to take the call.
“Assuming this is the same killer—” Zach began.
“Assuming?” I interrupted. “It seems quite clear.”
The team turned to me, and I had to explain myself. While there were clear differences, it had to be the same killer. “Well, it seems obvious, doesn’t it? The mutilation of his genitalia, the pill on the abdomen, the severed penis. Then there’s the woman who keeps popping up. It’s possible our unsub knew that we spoke to Simpson.” I turned to Jack. “I didn’t see anyone following us, though, and the bar was empty when we were there.”
Yet, we didn’t see Grafton, either…
“Simpson was on her hit list regardless of our involvement,” Jack said.
“There wasn’t much time between the body being found and the time of death. I believe she sliced his artery to speed up his bleeding,” Zach theorized, leading us down another avenue to explore.
“So she was aware that Grafton’s girlfriend would show up at four thirty.” Paige rubbed her arms.
Grafton was still talking on the phone, standing down the hallway, his back to us.
“Why Simpson, though?” I asked. “We figure that Malone and Hall were rapists and targeted for that reason. Was Simpson one, as well? He did manage to keep a girlfriend…”
“It wouldn’t be a first for a rapist to have a girlfriend or wife,” Paige said coolly. “And obviously, he was guilty of something given what the killer put on his chest.”
I had to give her that…
Jack patted his shirt pocket for the second time in the past ten minutes. He was definitely craving another cigarette.
Grafton cleared his throat as he slipped his cell phone into his pocket and approac
hed us. “CSU found ledgers at the bar going back sixteen years.”
I instantly remembered the notes Simpson had shown us the day before. He’d said they were to keep track of his memories after Malone’s murder, but maybe it was more than that.
“What kind of ledgers?” Jack asked.
“It looks like Simpson extended tabs to several men.”
“Only men?”
Grafton nodded.
Taking another stab in the dark, I said, “Let me guess. Ferris Hall was on that list.”
“How did you—”
“And Kyle Malone?”
Grafton appeared dumbfounded. “Uh, yeah.”
Was it a coincidence that two people from that list and the person who had managed it had been murdered? I didn’t think so. As an agent, I wasn’t taught to believe in or accept coincidences. I sensed the rest of the team was thinking the same thing as we shared glances. The eye contact with Paige was brief but communicative regardless. Assuming our unsub was aware of the ledger’s existence, we both knew it was a hit list.
“Have your people scan and send the ledgers to Nadia Webber.” Jack pulled a card from his pocket and extended it to Grafton. “All her information is there.”
“All right.” Grafton sounded disappointed to have lost this case to us.
“We’ll also need to find out where Simpson was before Wild Horse,” Jack said, looking from me, to Zach, to Paige. “I’ll have Nadia handle that. We have sufficient evidence to conclude the three murders are connected, and I have a feeling there will be more. It’s possible there already are. I think our killer might know about that ledger and be using it as her hit list,” Jack said.
Apparently, it wasn’t just Paige and me thinking that way.
Grafton blanched. “And the motive?”
“All that seems absolutely certain is that the victims being chosen are guilty of or somehow connected to rape.”
“As I said, though,” the detective responded, “Simpson’s record is spotless. Not even an accusation that he raped anyone.”
“Simpson has the word guilty on his chest in blood. I’d guess he was involved somehow with the rapes that happened or rapes that were occurring,” I said, expanding on my internal brainstorming.
Grafton nodded. “He extended credit for booze knowing what his patrons were doing with the drinks.”
“That’s a large assumption.” I turned to Jack. “Simpson didn’t mention anything questionable about Malone or Hall when we spoke with him.” The revelation hit me like a smack to the side of the head. “But then again, why would he if he were somehow involved with what they were doing?”
“What are you thinking, Brandon?” Zach asked.
“Our killer labeled Simpson guilty, and we have this ledger. I don’t believe it was just for supplying alcohol. All bartenders do that. What if Simpson supplied the date-rape drugs?”
Paige nodded. “So Simpson would spike the drinks…”
“And the women wouldn’t have had a clue,” I finished.
“Except one obviously did,” Paige ground out.
“We need to search Simpson’s bar and house top to bottom for drugs,” Jack said to Grafton, who picked up his phone and called his people at the bar again.
“Now what about the money that was transferred? We know funds were taken from Hall but we need to see Simpson’s computer.” Zach set out down the corridor, and we followed him to a second bedroom that had a desk and a laptop.
Zach took a seat behind the computer and quickly accessed it. There was no password to log on to the laptop itself, and Zach got to work, repeating the same process he’d used on Hall’s computer.
“Simpson had a SecureIt account, too.” Zach proceeded to enter the password information from SecureIt, and in seconds, he had access to Simpson’s banking.
A look at the account history showed a transfer today for three thousand dollars.
“Just like with Hall,” Zach said.
Grafton entered the room. “What was like Hall?”
“Another money transfer.” Jack pointed to the transaction on the screen, and Grafton followed the direction of Jack’s finger.
“Then we hunt them down, right? We find their name and address just like with Hall. Speaking of, did that lead anywhere?”
“It’s in progress,” Jack said, pulling out his cell phone. A few seconds later, he spoke into his phone. “How are you making out with tracking the money transfer from Hall’s bank?” Jack’s eyes skimmed over the four of us as he listened to Nadia’s response. Then he directed her to look at the transfer from Simpson’s account and check out his employment history.
About a minute later, he hung up. “A few things,” Jack began, looking at his team. “Nadia confirmed that no money was stolen from Malone’s bank accounts, and she had an update regarding the funds transferred from Hall’s account. She has the receiving bank’s information, as well as the account holder’s name and address. Name is Leslie Shaw. Both her and Golden State Bank and Trust are in Los Angeles.”
Grafton led the way out of the room. “Then let’s go.”
-
Chapter 35
A BACKGROUND ON THE NAME Leslie Shaw was unsuccessful, but it figured that our unsub would choose a unisex name.
The address on file with Golden State Bank and Trust was about an hour and a half from Simpson’s house and outside of Grafton’s jurisdiction. Jack and I were on the way there now with Grafton following behind us. I was surprised Jack let him tag along, even if the man was in his own car. This case belonged to the FBI, but Grafton was determined to help. Maybe he was feeling bad about what he had put Paige through, or it could have been as simple as just wanting to find the killer.
We left Zach and Paige at Simpson’s to analyze his computer, see if they could get anything else. They’d also be on hand if anything turned up that needed a quick response back in Canyon Country.
I couldn’t help thinking, though, that the targets our unsub chose might not have anything to do with Simpson’s ledger. It could just be a fluke or even meant to throw us off. And really, until we had more to go on, I couldn’t see Jack sending officers or agents from the local field office to check on each of the men on the list. Not to mention, with it dating back so many years, there would be far too many people to track down.
Jack pulled the car to the curb in front of a vacant patch of land surrounded by a chain-link fence.
“This is it?” I asked.
We should have checked the address on our phones first, looked at the location from Google Street View. But we had been so happy to have a lead that we’d run with it. Of course, I wasn’t going to mention any of this out loud. The oversight would become my fault if I did, or at least that’s where the blame would land.
Jack lowered his window and lit up a cigarette.
Grafton parked behind us, got out, and walked over to Jack’s side of the car.
“Dead end here,” Grafton said. He coughed, likely due to a plume of smoke from Jack’s cigarette hitting him in the face. “But I got a call on the way here. My people found a stash of date-rape drugs at Simpson’s bar. What do you suggest we do now?”
Jack had yet to say a word since he’d parked. He kept up a stream of exhaled smoke, however.
Grafton leaned down to look across at me in the passenger seat. I wasn’t going to say anything.
One more drag on the cig and an exhale, then Jack spoke. “We go to the branch and see if they have footage of our unsub from the day and time the account was opened. They’ll also have a record of the name of the teller who opened the account, so we’ll know what wicket to watch.” Another calm puff on his cigarette. Jack didn’t seem fazed in the least that we’d driven an hour and a half and, as of yet, had nothing to show for our trouble. That wasn’t like Jack. He must have planned to hit the bank in the first place.
“All right, and while you’re doing that?” Grafton prompted Jack for direction.
“You just make sure a copy of those ledgers gets to Nadia Webber.”
“That was the other part of the message. The list has already been sent to your girl.”
Jack pressed his lips together. “Hmm.”
I’d worked by Jack’s side for the better part of two years, and I sensed impatience in his hum. He was probably wondering why we hadn’t heard from Nadia yet.
“There have to be a lot of names in that ledger,” I said, offering justification to any seeming delay Jack may have seen on Nadia’s part.
Grafton looked from me to Jack. “What’s the deal with the ledgers we found anyway? You mentioned they could be a hit list for the killer. How? We found them at the bar intact.”
Jack raised his brows. “She could have taken a picture of the list with her phone.”
A flush touched the detective’s cheeks.
“If she did that she likely wouldn’t have gotten all sixteen years that were recorded, as that would have taken far too long. And we don’t even know that she had access to the ledgers,” I said, my doubts rising to the surface. “She might just be aware of who Simpson serviced from watching him over the years.”
“Nope.” Jack shook his head. “If that were the case, Simpson would have mentioned she was there often.”
One step forward, two steps back.
-
Chapter 36
PAIGE STOOD BEHIND ZACH WHILE he remained in front of Simpson’s computer. The coroner had taken off with Simpson’s body, leaving behind a slew of investigators working over the house in microscopic intensity.
Zach had found an account with an online payment system called Money Buddy that made it possible to keep money in a virtual wallet, but the funds there remained untouched.
“Why transfer three thousand from a bank account and none from this account?” Paige asked.
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