by Julie Miller
Gabe set the papers on the table. “That’s the car I saw try to run down Olivia. The last three digits of the license plate number are the same.”
“And I saw the same car speeding away from the warehouse fire.” Olivia nodded to her partner to continue.
“I talked to March at his sister’s house after leaving your place,” Jim said. “Found the car there, too, parked out back. One of the taillights was missing and the hood was still warm so I know he hadn’t been watching TV down in the basement like he claimed. His sister looked too much like the family-sedan type to have been racing around in that thing. He couldn’t account for his whereabouts the night of the fire, either. ‘Out looking for some friends’ isn’t much of an alibi.”
“The sister wouldn’t confirm his alibi?” the lieutenant asked.
Jim shook his head. “She said the basement apartment has a separate entrance, and she doesn’t always know when he comes and goes. In fact, she didn’t say much at all. She seemed so skittish about having a cop in the house with her that I did the interview out on the front porch.”
“She sounds like a piece of work,” Max grumbled.
“Nonetheless,” Ginny interrupted, “we have a viable suspect. Where is Mr. March now?”
Max shoved his chair away from the table and stood. “Hell. I’m an idiot. He’s in holding. Yesterday, we booked him for assault and illegal possession of a firearm. He probably thinks he dodged a bullet because we didn’t mention murder. You want me to bring him up here for questioning?”
“Hold on, Max.” The lieutenant looked up at Olivia, her keen blue eyes seeing that even her lead detective didn’t think this was a slam-dunk case yet. “What else do we need to prove he’s our guy?”
“Motive would be nice. Most stalkers know their victims. As far as I can tell, Stephen and Dani were only random acquaintances who frequented the same businesses for the last two weeks of her life. There’s no evidence that he issued any kind of threat. And she never reported him to the police.”
Ginny followed up with a question to Gabe. “And Ms. Reese never mentioned this alleged stalker to you?”
Olivia recognized the grim line of Gabe’s mouth and the guilt it represented. He shook his head. “She didn’t tell me anything about the story she was working on or anything about that...undercover part of her life. I didn’t know what was going on until I read her notes.” He raked his fingers through his hair, erasing some of the tension and leaving a sea of rumpled spikes in their wake. “Are you sure he wasn’t working for Leland Asher?” Gabe proposed for the umpteenth time since they’d reviewed Dani’s research together. “That this whole stalking setup isn’t some kind of cover-up for Asher’s involvement?”
Olivia wanted to believe that, too. Lord knew there was plenty of information on that flash drive that Asher wouldn’t want the authorities to know about. “The evidence doesn’t support that. We have no proof that the two men have ever even met. They certainly don’t run in the same social circles or live in the same neighborhood. And there’s no record anywhere of money changing hands between them. Unless March gives him up when we interview him, there’s no way to link Asher to the actual murder.”
Trent Dixon interjected another voice of reason. “According to his juvie record and stints in rehab, that kid has been doped out of his mind for half his life. If Ms. Reese smiled at him or shared a casual conversation, that might have been all it took for him to believe there was a connection between them. If he finally worked up the nerve to approach her that night, and she didn’t reciprocate...”
Olivia agreed. Reluctantly. “I know that’s happened before. I still think there has to be a connection between Asher and Dani Reese beyond her uncovering a story on him. But right now, all the circumstantial evidence points to Stephen March having acted alone.”
“Don’t worry, Liv,” the lieutenant reassured her. “Leland Asher isn’t going to walk away from this unscathed.” She turned to the brunette taking notes on her computer. “Katie—I want you to copy this to your uncle in the DA’s office, see if he agrees we’ve got enough to get an arrest warrant for Mr. Asher.”
Katie nodded. “Detectives Hendricks and Kincaid, too?”
“Yes.”
“Sawyer and Joe will want to reinterview Elaine Kober.” Olivia tapped her own laptop, indicating Dani’s files. “And Zeiss Security. The E on the note Mr. Kober tried to get rid of stood for Elaine. When I talked to their representative, he said Ron Kober hired them to investigate his wife’s ‘suspicious’ activities. Apparently, he wanted a divorce so he could marry his assistant, Misty Harbison, but with his infidelity track record, he needed some ammunition or else he’d be paying Elaine big bucks.”
Gabe had been as surprised as she was when they’d read the notations in Dani’s files. “For years now, I assumed Ron Kober was BB, Dani’s informant.” He shook his head, admitting his mistake. “But it was Ron’s wife. Dani’s first draft of her story uses the feminine pronouns she and her. Later, she changed them to genderless references to protect her source. Elaine was at almost every public event and private party her husband was. She’d be privy to what went on behind the scenes.”
Olivia opened another file and put it up on the screen. “Elaine Kober took these pictures and gave them to Dani.” There was a photo of a check signed by Leland Asher, sitting on top of several stacks of cash in Ron Kober’s office during his tenure working for Senator McCoy. The paperwork beside it showed the check had been counted as a campaign contribution, but not the cash. Another picture showed Asher whispering into McCoy’s ear at a charity event, with her husband lurking in the background. “I think she was more interested in exposing her husband’s criminal activities as payback for his continued infidelity than she was with any sense of civic duty.”
“And he didn’t find out about her betrayal until now?” Katie asked.
“Or, he overlooked it.” Olivia had a theory about that seriously twisted relationship, too. “Their divorce would have been expensive and messy. If Ron Kober could find that missing flash drive, he could hand it over to Leland Asher and let his old ‘business associate’ take care of the problem one way or another. I’m guessing Elaine found out what he was up to, there was an ugly argument and it ended with her bashing him in the head.”
Max let out a low whistle. “Sheesh. That’s why I’m never getting married.”
“You’re never getting married because no smart woman would have you,” Trent gibed. “When we interviewed Stephen March, he said he saw a blonde woman cleaning in Kober’s office—that’s why he didn’t stay to rob the place. We can show him pictures, including Mrs. Kober’s, and see if he picks her out of a lineup.”
Max laughed, not minding being the butt of his partner’s joke. “What a loser. He went there to kill Kober, but the wife beat him to it. No wonder he freaked out on you two.”
Olivia slipped back into her chair, not feeling the morbid laughter in the room. “That’s the part that doesn’t sit right with me. If March was stalking Dani, and she rejected him or did something else to send him over the edge into violence, then what’s his motive for going after Kober?” She shook her head. “Even if he was there for drugs or money like he claims, it’s an awfully big coincidence for him to show up at the scene of two related murders six years apart.” She met Gabe’s gaze across the table. She knew he felt the same. They’d solved the case, had solved three crimes, in fact, by the time others in KCPD rounded up Leland Asher and Elaine Kober. But the puzzle wasn’t complete yet. “I just feel like there’s something more going on here.”
“Let’s not borrow trouble. We’ve got a solid case against March.” Their team leader wasn’t about to let a murderer go because Olivia’s instincts were nagging at her. “The gun you took off March and the gun you found in the warehouse are both the same make and caliber. A Raven Arms MP25. I know it’s not conclusive,
but criminals do tend to repeat themselves. It certainly builds more and more of a circumstantial case against him.” Ginny rose from her seat at the head of the table, making a command decision. “Let’s bring March up here and lay our case on the table—see if he feels like talking.”
While Max and Trent stood to put on jackets and gather their notepads and laptops, Katie read an email off her computer screen. “I’ve already got a reply from Detective Kincaid. He and his partner are on their way to visit Mrs. Kober now.”
“Hold up, gentlemen.” Lieutenant Rafferty-Taylor patted Olivia’s shoulder. “This is your case. Why don’t you go down to holding and tell Stephen March the good news—that in addition to assaulting you and Mr. Knight, we’re booking him for Dani Reese’s murder. Good work, everyone.”
Olivia followed the older woman to her desk. “Is it all right if I call my father in, ma’am? He was the original detective on this case. I know he’d like to be there when we finally close it.”
Even if there were some loose ends about this investigation that nagged at her, Olivia knew getting a murderer off the streets was always a good thing. Helping her father find closure on an otherwise stellar career he’d been forced to end before he was ready to was even better.
The lieutenant agreed. “Make the call.”
* * *
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN he’s not in his cell?” Olivia turned 360 degrees, taking in the seemingly normal chaos of the holding wing’s long hallway, processing counter, barred gates and steel doors beyond, as well as her father’s shaking head and Gabe’s piercing glare. “Where is he?”
Max was at the sergeant’s desk, cursing the ineptitude of paper pushers and the stupid luck of the world in general while Trent Dixon offered a saner explanation for why the man she was here to arrest had gone missing. “March collapsed in his cell. The guard said he was going through some serious withdrawal symptoms this morning. Don’t know if it’s his heart or his lungs or his stomach, but he just couldn’t handle detoxing cold turkey. They took him in an ambulance to Saint Luke’s about an hour ago.”
“Is he still alive?”
“As far as I know.”
“Is he still there? Is he under guard?”
“You know he is. We’re not going to let this guy slip through our fingers again.” Curling his mouth into a wry grin, Trent patted Olivia’s shoulder and excused himself. “Why don’t you go down to Saint Luke’s and read him his rights yourself while I take care of Mr. Charm School over there before he gets put on report.”
“Thanks, Trent.”
The big man nodded. “We’ll follow as soon as we can.”
“Gabe? Dad? Jim? Let’s go.”
Jim dangled his keys in front of her and backed toward the exit. “I’ll drive.”
Jim put the siren on the roof of his extended cab pickup, and got them to the downtown hospital in a matter of minutes. But the deathly quiet from the back seat Gabe shared with her father made the ride seem to last an hour.
Still, smoothing over familial tensions and figuring out whether she and Gabe had any future beyond working together to solve this case had to be filed away and dealt with later. Right now, she had a murderer to track down and put into official custody. She and Jim flashed their badges to give their guns clearance, and all four of them quickly moved through the security checkpoint to get into the hospital.
With Trent feeding them information over the phone, they hurried through the multistory lobby, skipped the information desk and went straight to the elevators to get to the second floor. “Room 222. Thanks, Trent.”
Olivia tucked her phone away in her pocket and led the way out of the elevator and around the corner into the second-floor corridor. But her steps slowed to an uneasy pace long before they reached the room at the end of the hallway. Suspicion pricked the hairs at the back of her neck. Something wasn’t right.
Jim stopped beside her, sensing it, too. “I don’t like this.” He checked behind them, then swiveled his green-eyed gaze back along the empty corridor. “Where’s the guard?”
The chair outside the door was there. But there was no one standing watch at Stephen March’s room. Olivia pulled back her jacket and unsnapped her holster. Resting her hand on the butt of her weapon, she warned Gabe and her father to stay back. “Wait here.”
Gabe took a step after her. “Olivia, be care—”
“Let me do my job, caveman.”
With a fuming reluctance, Gabe nodded and ducked into the room next door with her father.
Nodding her readiness to Jim, they both pulled their guns and flanked the door to room 2022. Switching between guarding and taking point, they quickly cleared the room, closet and adjoining bathroom. The rumpled bed and IV tube, needle and tape still swinging from its solution bag indicated March hadn’t been gone for long. The empty, unlocked ring of the handcuffs still attached to the bed’s steel frame made her think he hadn’t left on his own, either.
Olivia muttered one choice curse and pulled out her phone. “What is happening here? Who’s helping him escape?”
Jim holstered his gun and hurried out the door. “I’ll check the front desk.”
“Livvy?” Thomas Watson limped out into the hallway after the all clear, with a KCPD badge in his hand. “We’ve got an unconscious man in here. His ID says Derek Logan. I’m guessing he’s your guard.”
“Pretty nasty blow to the back of the head,” Gabe added. “I already called the hospital staff from the phone in the room. Told them he’d need assistance as soon as it was safe.”
Olivia added the badge number to the report she was making to Dispatch. “That checks out. Whoever’s helping March is going to be in street clothes or hospital gear,” she added before hanging up. “Officer Logan is the guard assigned to March. So we don’t know who the accomplice is. We have to look for March.”
“I notified hospital security. They’re sending someone to every exit point.” Jim returned with a nurse who hurried into the room to attend to the injured officer. “The nurse there said she took March’s vitals ten minutes ago and he was still showing signs of detox. Chills, shakes, headache. It’d be hard for him to walk out of here.”
“That means he’s in a wheelchair or on a gurney.” That meant the elevators. Olivia cursed. “They were probably going down when we were heading up. If they get out to the parking lot before security locks this place down, we’ll never catch them.”
Gabe grabbed her arm and stopped her when she hurried past. Any instinct to argue fell silent when she saw the keen intelligence lighting his eyes. “If he’s on a gurney or in a chair, then they’d have to take the staff elevators. The hospital staff would stop and question them if they tried to get on the public elevators.”
Oh, how she loved that cool logic of his. “You’re right. Max and Trent are on their way, too. But we need to find them now. Ten minutes isn’t that much of a head start if they had to disable Officer Logan and sneak out of the room.”
She pointed to Jim but he was already nodding, moving down the hallway, sharing the same idea. “Let’s split up. I’ll search this floor, make sure they’re not hiding out, and you get on down to the first. Hopefully, we can at least contain him here before he reaches any of the exits.”
Thomas Watson still had KCPD blue running through his veins. “Livvy, you take Knight with you. I’ll stay and help Detective Parker.”
“Dad, you’re not armed.” She glanced up at Gabe. “Neither one of you are.”
“Olivia Mary, I love you to death, but if you let this guy get away...”
She winked at her father and nodded. “Yes, sir. Let’s go.”
Leaving her father to limp into the room across from Jim, Olivia dashed toward the staff elevators and cleared each car before running to the stairs. Gabe was already there, shoving open the door and following close behind as she
charged down the empty stairs to the first floor. A quick glance down the first floor service corridor showed no men who resembled Stephen March’s receding hairline and wiry build.
But Gabe’s hand at the small of her back turned her attention to the orderly pushing a wheelchair out through a swinging door. The patient bundled in a blanket looked far too familiar. “They’re heading out to the lobby.”
“Stay behind me,” she ordered, pulling her gun and breaking into a run. “Call Jim and tell him we’ve got them.”
For once, Gabe obeyed a command. Sort of. As she paused at the swinging steel door and peeked through to make sure the path was clear, she could hear Gabe giving Jim a succinct explanation of the situation and location. But he was right on her heels as she pushed through the door. “We’ve got a lot of civilians down here,” he added before hanging up.
“Oh, my God,” Olivia whispered, lowering her weapon. The public lobby at Saint Luke’s was as tricky to navigate as downtown rush hour. The carpeted area was a maze of chair groupings, sculptures and planters filled with trees and flowers—not to mention the gift shop, information desk and dozens of staff, visitors and volunteers crossing through and hanging out there. “Do you see them?”
She and Gabe stood back-to-back, turning, searching. Wrong color hair. Too tall. A woman in that wheelchair. No orderly with that one. There was still only one guard at the front glass doors.
She felt Gabe’s firm grip on her elbow and turned. “There. That’s him.”
Olivia moved out in a quick walk, keeping the orderly wearing green scrubs in her line of sight as she darted from one chair to the next tree. The patient in the wheelchair was bundled up with blankets that masked most of his face, but the shaking hands holding the covers up to his nose were a dead giveaway. The pair headed for the glass doors away from the check-in station at a fast enough clip that the guard had noticed them, too.