by Kylie Brant
“A phone number?” Ethan’s gaze shot to Nyle’s. “And you didn’t lead with that?”
The other officer smiled smugly, holding up a sheet upon which he’d jotted the digits. Two spaces were empty.
“Can I see?” Ethan asked the ME.
Seeming more amenable than he’d been the last time they’d been here, Conrad waved him over. He levered the body upward so Ethan could peer at the writing. “Definitely seems like a phone number,” he murmured. The two last digits were indecipherable, although there was still ink visible. He stepped back, looked at Alexa. “What are the chances the offender wrote those digits?”
She cocked her head as if considering for a moment. “I don’t recall anything in the file similar to this. I think it’s unlikely to be from him. With whom would he be communicating? He already has access to me. If he wanted to send a number, he’d do so.”
Ethan nodded. It would have represented another deviation for the offender. Not that he hadn’t engaged in his share of them in recent days, but those had all involved Alexa in some way. Which was the source of the simmering worry that had lodged in the back of his mind.
No, these numbers were likely related to Lawler’s night out before her death. And given the activities Bixby had indicated she engaged in on such nights, someone who was interested in her might written them.
And he very much wanted to talk to that person.
He thanked the ME. After Alexa collected her things, they left the suite and headed for the parking lot. As soon as he reached an area with cell-phone reception, Ethan texted the rest of his team in New Brunswick. He needed them here. If there were still interviews to conduct, one of the men could stay in the other province and finish them, but he could the additional assistance for the most recent victims. The tip line they’d established might just be about to pay off. They needed more bodies to conduct the most promising interviews.
“How are you planning to use the partial phone number written on the body?” Nyle asked as they walked outside into the bright sunlight. “No way we get a warrant on all the possible variations.”
“One hundred.”
Both men’s heads swiveled toward Alexa. “That’s how many combinations there would be after filling in the missing digits.”
“She used to tutor me in math,” Ethan told Nyle.
Alexa smiled. “I did not.”
“You could have. You just refused.”
They’d reached the car. “You didn’t need help with any subject. You just used that as a reason to keep talking to me.”
“Mad skills with the ladies even back then, eh?” Nyle laughed.
“She did help me with English a couple of times.” Ethan unlocked the car, and they got in. “She used to read Voltaire. For fun.”
Nyle feigned a shudder. Looked at Alexa over the seat as he fastened his seat belt. “What’s wrong with you?”
“The numbers?” she reminded them patiently.
Ethan returned his attention to the case as he drove out of the parking lot. “We can computer-generate all the possible combinations of the phone numbers.” He ignored the muttered remark from the back about doing the exercise in his head. “Then we can leave automated messages for the recipients to call our tip line if they saw her last night.”
“We’d still have to double-check on all the numbers that don’t call in, but that would be a faster way to hear from potential witnesses,” Nyle noted.
“I called one of the officers manning the tip line on the way back from Truro. He’s forwarding a list of the updated messages every few hours. I say we prioritize those and take some of the interviews ourselves.” Lawler’s photo and the message to the public had appeared in local papers this morning. Sifting through the deluge of calls to find the ones worth checking out would be a chore of its own.
“I guess you haven’t heard the news about the memorial service,” Nyle said.
A hard knot of trepidation formed in the pit of Ethan’s belly. He wasn’t a big fan of surprises. “Enlighten me.”
“It was Conrad’s tech that mentioned it to me,” Nyle informed him. “Apparently, there’s a movement afoot to have a candlelight vigil this evening in Victoria Park in memory of The Tailor’s two most recent victims.”
Ethan looked at Alexa in the rearview mirror. Caught her gaze on him. “Will he be there?”
“Ordinarily, I’d say no,” she answered slowly. “I think it’s unusual for this UNSUB to stay in the area after a kill. He calls the homicides a ‘mission.’ And that doesn’t sound like someone who would get a rush from standing around and reveling in the emotional aftermath the way some killers do. I think the bigger question is…do we want to try and lure him there?”
“I’m still not sure about this,” Ethan muttered later that afternoon. They were sitting in an interview room at the Halifax RCMP divisional headquarters, waiting to be summoned for their remote appearance on a national newscast. As before, the setup had been left to Gagnon’s office. This time, the filming would take place on scene, rather than at the television station.
“Captain Campbell seemed to think that trying to lure the UNSUB to the memorial vigil was low-risk,” Alexa reminded him. She’d put her hair up again before their arrival here and donned a black jacket that matched her slacks. The makeup artist that he’d sent away had found a more willing subject in her. Once again, her smooth, polished demeanor was intact. He found himself preferring her appearance this morning. “You’ll have ample time to get preparations in place. And I’ll be surrounded by a police presence.”
He was aware of the advantages and disadvantages of the operation. He and Nyle and Alexa had debated them thoroughly before the conversation with Campbell. It had reached the point where Ethan had to ask himself whether he’d have the same reservations if Alexa weren’t involved. The answer was uncomfortable. She changed everything, and he couldn’t allow that. He’d sworn from the beginning that she wouldn’t be a distraction in this case. It was time he started remembering that vow.
When he’d spoken to Gagnon yesterday, Ethan had been adamant that Alexa not use the news conference to try to connect with the UNSUB. He hadn’t wanted to cement the UNSUB’s obsession with her. But like it or not, the connection was already happening, on the offender’s terms. As much as it pained him to admit it, it was time to shift the balance of control. He had to reluctantly accept that fact that Alexa could help toward that end.
“We’re ready for you.” A harried-looking woman led them quickly down the hallway, and out the front doors. Then she spent more time than he thought necessary positioning them for optimal impact outside the building while avoiding a glare from the banks of windows.
He ignored the cameras and tried not to fiddle with his ear mic, which he found damn annoying.
A moment later, the mic was activated. “…here with us now in Halifax, RCMP Sergeant Ethan Manning, lead investigator and Dr. Alexa Hayden, the profiler consulting on the case. Sergeant Manning, can you speak to your attempts to rescue Jeanette Lawler yesterday evening?”
He kept his remarks brief, factual and undramatic, ending with, “We want to extend our condolences to the victim’s family, and assure them that we are actively pursuing a number of leads to bring the killer to justice.”
“And what can you tell us about those leads, Sergeant?”
“We now have a second sketch of the person of interest in this case.” He knew that the drawing Patrick had worked on with the forensic artist this morning and the one Fornier did were now showing on the screen. “This man changes his appearance as he moves about in public. If you see this individual, do not approach him. Instead, quickly call the number on the screen.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. And now here’s a picture of the latest victim, Jeanette Lawler.”
“We know Jeanette Lawler was in downtown Halifax last night at a nightclub. People saw her. Spoke to her.” His voice was grim. “They might have seen her killer, as well. We ask that you please call the ti
p line if you have anything to report from yesterday evening. Your statement might be all we need to close in on this killer.” He hoped the UNSUB was watching. He hoped like hell the man wondered and worried about being seen the night before.
“And Dr. Hayden, you’ve had time to study this madman who has struck all across Canada.” Ethan struggled to keep his face impassive. There was no way to keep sensationalism from creeping into the newscast. “What have you learned about him that will aid in the investigation?”
Ethan tensed, but beside him, Alexa appeared calm. Composed. “I understand this offender like no one else can. I know what drives him. He realizes that every deed will be brought into judgment. Every secret thing. His mission is over. Like a weary soldier returning from battle, he can put down his sword. Only then will he find true peace.”
The viewing audience wouldn’t comprehend. But Alexa’s message would make perfect sense to the offender they sought.
“Thank you, Doctor. Sergeant, I understand that there is a vigil in Victoria Park at nine o’clock this evening for the most recent victims. Will your team be there to pay your respects?”
“We will be, yes.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. I return now to Commissioner Gagnon, who…”
Ethan’s ear mic cut out. He knew from last time that the people from the news station freaked if he tried to remove the equipment himself. So, he waited impatiently for a technician to take care of that before he and Alexa made their way inside the building again. They went to find Nyle, who was sitting in the interview room they’d just vacated, with sacks of food surrounding him.
Ethan regarded him soberly. “Are you some kind of sandwich wizard? Do you know a conjuring spell that summons them out of thin air?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” The man shoved a sandwich into his mouth. Chewed. “My magical powers are reserved for baked goods. I had this stuff delivered. Met them at the back entrance.”
Alexa took a ham on rye with a decided lack of enthusiasm. “Don’t you guys ever eat anything green?”
Nyle gave her a puzzled look. “You mean…like green M&Ms?”
She rolled her eyes and sat down, unwrapping her food. Ethan, decidedly less fussy, grabbed one of the meals and took a seat, pulling out his phone. Moments later, he turned his laptop on and scrolled through the latest list the tip-line officer had sent, starring the ones he deemed most promising. He took pictures of them on his cell and texted them to Nyle. “Here. You and Alexa start on the interviews for people responding to the newspaper article this morning that had Lawler’s picture. The newscast we just filmed won’t show for—” he checked the clock on the wall, “—another two and a half hours. If better tips come in from that, I’ll let you know.”
“What’s your next step?” Nyle wanted to know.
Ethan’s temples began to throb just thinking about the next few hours. “I’m going to take those phone numbers we computer-generated and arrange for a voice message to be sent to each. Then I’ll organize the police presence for the vigil tonight. If Alexa’s little spiel about the offender worked, he’s not going to be able to pass up being there. And if he does come, we need to be prepared for it.”
The first three calls they followed up on required more time to drive to than the interviews themselves. But slowly, Alexa and Nyle were constructing a timeline for Lawler’s last few hours. They spoke to the waitress who served her at an upscale restaurant; a person working the door at a club she’d attended around nine, which she’d exited shortly later; and an Uber driver who’d delivered her to the restaurant, and chatted with her about the Halifax nightlife.
The fourth interview was with someone Alexa had already met. Dennis Jeffries, the bartender at Zoomey’s.
“I almost didn’t call. I mean, I remember you coming in and showing me that picture.” Jeffries nodded at Alexa. After Nyle had contacted the man about his message to the tip line, they’d arranged to meet at a Timmie’s in the man’s neighborhood. Alexa hadn’t turned down the opportunity to caffeinate. “I told you then she’d been there. But then I thought, hey, maybe you’d have more questions, so…” He shrugged, wrapping both hands around his coffee to-go cup. “It’s not every day that you talk to someone who comes in and find out they’re dead a few hours later. Makes you think, you know?”
“What can you tell us about her?” Alexa asked.
“She arrived a bit before ten.” He reached up a hand to push back the hair that kept flopping onto his forehead. “We talked a little bit. She’d already stopped at some of the clubs. Wanted to know when things would get going. I had the feeling she was looking for action.”
“What kind of action?”
He shrugged at Nyle’s question. “Same kind most people want. Crowds, dancing, music, lights. And maybe to hook up. She had that vibe about her. Not that I’m judging,” he hastened to say.
“And did it look like she was successful? At finding a partner?”
He shrugged again. “So maybe for a little while, before things got wild, I thought I’d be the lucky guy. But it got super busy, and I lost sight of her. Which means she either ended up leaving, or she was at a table or booth that was being waited on.”
“Can you give us the names and numbers of the other bartenders and waitresses on that night?” Alexa asked.
He looked stricken. “Oh, man, no, I can’t drag them into this. I mean, naw, I can’t.”
“We can get them from your employer.”
Alexa knew Nyle would only do so if they had evidence that Zoomey’s was indeed the place where Lawler had met with the offender.
“Hold on a minute.” He pulled out his phone and started texting furiously, a long enough message that Alexa was left wondering why he didn’t just place a call. When he finished, he set the cell down and looked up. “Zaila works at the club, too. She’d have been working the floor. I asked if she’d agree to talk to you. That’s all I can do, okay? I mean, I have to work with these people.” His words were interrupted by an alert. He picked up the cell again and gave a smile of relief. “She says okay. I don’t know if she has any information, but she’ll meet up if you can do it in the next hour.”
Nyle nodded. “That works. Before we go, though, we want you to look at a couple sketches.” He took out the two drawings of the offender and laid them out in front of Jeffries.
To his credit, the man looked them over carefully. Then he finally lifted a shoulder. “Not going to lie, I remember the females. Unless it’s some asshole who causes trouble for us. This guy—” he tapped the sketch Patrick had helped supply, “—is not our usual clientele. At least, not when things get going. We draw a younger crowd.”
“The hair and mustache were probably fake. Think of this face,” Nyle tapped the second sketch, “with this hair.” He touched the first drawing.
But Jeffries shrugged. “Like I said…I remember the pretty girls. And the bonus of my job is there are lots of pretty girls.”
Zaila had a round face with heavily made-up eyes and black hair tipped with pink. They’d had to drive across the city to the place she’d set to meet with them. The only parking they could find was blocks away. Nyle and Alexa were out of breath by the time they walked into the seedy diner and slid into the booth opposite her.
“Dennis showed us your picture,” Alexa said when the woman looked up in surprise.
“Yeah, Dennis. What’d he get me into?” She picked up a sugar packet from a bowl placed in the center of the table. Fiddled with it.
“Nothing too worrisome.” Nyle put a picture of Lawler on the table in front of the woman. “Do you recall seeing her in Zoomey’s Thursday night?”
The woman made a box with her fingers, centered it around Lawler’s face, blocking out the hair. “Yeah,” she said finally. “She was there. I know faces. I’m an art student at NSCAD.” She surveyed the picture critically. “Makeup was different. Less polished, more glam, if you know what I mean. Don’t recall what she was wearing or anything. Me, I see faces.”
On cue, Nyle produced the sketches of the offender. “How about him? Remember seeing him?”
She shook her head. “He might have stood out, too, because we cater to a younger crowd.” Which was similar to what the bartender had told them. “Once in a while, you get an older guy in there with a lot younger girlfriend, but that’s not the norm.”
“Did you see this woman with anyone throughout the night?”
Zaila rolled her eyes. “Saw her with lots of people. All guys. A good twenty years younger than her, you ask me. She was dancing earlier, but last time I noticed she was sitting in a booth with a bunch of guys, pretty smashed. It looked like they were buying all the drinks.” She grimaced. “They’d had plenty, too.”
“Do you know what time that was?” Alexa asked.
“There is only two times that matter in that place.” The woman smirked. “The time I have to be at work and closing time. Seriously, the place is busiest on the weekends, but Wednesdays and Thursdays can be crazy, too. There’s never enough staff, and we work our asses off. I don’t notice the time. Oh.” She seemed to remember something. “Except I know I waited on that booth right before the band’s first break, which would have been about eleven-thirty. I try to time my rounds because otherwise the floor gets too congested, with people going to the restrooms and trying to get to the bar. It was the last time I remember seeing her.”
Alexa exchanged a look with Nyle. Here was another point for the timeline of Lawler’s last night. She and Ethan had been there about one. But they still didn’t know if the woman had left before then.
“How about the guys in the booth with her? Did you recognize any of them?” she asked.
“I’ve seen a couple of them before. One had some trouble at the club a few months back. Got kicked out for a while.” She thought for a moment. Shook her head. “Maybe Duncan knows. He was the bouncer we had back then. I’ll ask him.”
“Please call my number if you discover his name.” Nyle slid one of his cards across the cracked vinyl table toward her. “We appreciate your time.”