by Robin Mahle
“I do; nice to see you again.” Robert turned his attention to the agents. “BAU? Let me guess, the serial killer? What are you guys calling him? The Pretty Face Killer?”
“Yes,” Sharpe replied.
“You have a suspect in custody?” Grainger continued.
“We do, but he’s got a very unusual story.”
“You’ve been talking to him? Without a lawyer?” Grainger shook his head. “You understand what that means?”
“I think we all know what it means, Rob,” Sharpe sat down at his desk. “He decided to exercise his right to have an attorney present and so here you are. But there’s something you should know before I send you back there to talk to him. This needs to stay quiet, which is why I brought you back here and didn’t say anything up front.”
“Why is that? I thought the LAPD would be thrilled to announce they had someone in custody—unless you aren’t sure he’s the guy.” Grainger noted the faces of those present and a half-cocked smile formed on his lips. “Why don’t you just take me back there so I can have a word with my client?”
Sharpe led Grainger to the interrogation room and opened the door.
“We’ll need a more private place to converse,” Grainger said.
The officer standing watch looked to Sharpe, who nodded. He approached Knight, proceeded to help him from the chair, and kept his hand on his shoulders. “Where to?”
“They can take holding cell 2b. No one else is back there right now.” He turned to Grainger. “Follow them.”
Grainger waited until the officer started down the hall and followed closely behind.
“Are you my lawyer?” Knight asked.
“Yes. Wait until we can speak in private.”
“Right through here.” The officer held the door open. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
“Thank you, officer.” Grainger closed the door behind them. “Take a seat, Mr. Knight. I’m Robert Grainger. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”
“They think I killed those women. I didn’t do it and now they want me to help them.”
“Help them do what?”
“Find the real killer.”
“It’s a good thing, Mr. Knight—may I call you Andre?”
He nodded.
“It’s a good thing, Andre, that they don’t think you’re responsible. However, the simple fact that you’re here suggests they suspect your involvement somehow. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you tell me how you came to be here, then?”
♦ ♦ ♦
Kate leaned back against the wall in Sharpe’s office. “We’re wasting time here, detective. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that this website will disappear completely.”
“You believe him?”
“There is reason to. We’ve got a description from a witness that doesn’t match our guy, but we’ve got physical evidence on at least one victim that did belong to Knight.”
“You don’t think the possibility exists that he could be working with an accomplice?” Sharpe continued.
“It’s possible. But that would mean we’re still wasting time. If he can get us closer to whoever he knows or who he could be working with, then we need to move on that.”
“I know this is frustrating, but you’ve been able to help them keep this quiet,” Nick began. “That buys us time.”
“She’s right,” Dwight said. “We are wasting time. What can we do right now? Can we see how the most recent victim is doing? See if she remembers more?”
“My officers have been checking in on her all day and from what I gather, it seems pretty clear she didn’t get a good enough look at her attacker, just what she told us. He took her in the drainage culvert. It was too dark, and she’d lost a lot of blood. No. We need to talk to Knight.”
Kate’s phone vibrated in her pocket and, upon retrieving it, she noted the caller ID. “I need to take this.” She stepped outside of Sharpe’s office. “Marc? Hang on a second; I’m walking outside.” She emerged through the main entrance and stood at the top of the stone steps, peering at the lights on the surrounding high-rise buildings. “I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight. You already talk to your friend?”
“I did. That’s why I’m calling. Sorry it’s a little late.”
“Don’t be. I’m still here at the station. Our suspect is with his lawyer now.”
“I won’t keep you then. I just wanted to let you know that I think my message was well received. I don’t think you’ll have any problems, at least, not for the next day or two. After that, I make no promises.”
“I appreciate that, Marc. Thank you.” The temperature dropped substantially since she’d last stepped foot outside and her breath drifted before her eyes. “What are you going to do? Go back to New York?”
“That’s what I’m supposed to do. Someone’s filling in for me on the show. I don’t know if I can convince them to give me a couple more days.”
“Don’t risk all you’ve worked for on this case, Marc. I know you wanted something to sink your teeth into and help out your friend, but it sounds like they want you back home.”
“Is there anything at all you can tell me that I can entice my producer with?”
“I’m just not sure. I don’t think so. I mean, hell, I don’t know. This case is getting more bizarre by the moment.”
“Apart from the obvious, what makes you say that?”
Kate knew he was digging around for something more now.
“You said you weren’t sure if you got the right guy. Why?”
“I’ll give you this much, and I swear to God if you quote me or mention an anonymous source, we’re through. You understand?”
“Of course, Kate. I’d never do that to you. I just want to know if it’s worth my time to come up with an excuse as to why I need to stay here.”
She hesitated but finally continued, “We’re either dealing with two men working together, or we’re dealing with one and our guy was a witness. The problem lies in the fact that the man we have in custody left physical evidence on a previous victim. And we have a discrepancy in the descriptions.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Funny thing is, we think both of these guys, whether collaborators or not, were wearing disguises when they approached the victims.”
“Like a mask or something?”
“No. Luckily, no masks. Just wigs and baseball hats. But it appears as though they’re different.”
“I see. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full sorting through this heap of crap.”
“We just need to figure out if we’re looking for a Chicago Bulls fan or an Oakland As fan.”
“Sorry?”
“Those were the baseball caps described by the surviving victim and a witness. So, you see what we’re dealing with.”
“Okay. I’ll let you get back to it, then. Let me know how things go tomorrow, if you get a chance. Good night, Kate.”
“Night, Marc.” Kate walked back inside, but before she made it to the hallway, Nick appeared.
“Hey. We can talk to Knight now. He and his attorney are in the interrogation room.” Nick turned on his heel and headed back.
“Sharpe already back there?” Kate asked.
“Yeah.” Nick approached the door. “You ready?”
She nodded and walked inside. Sharpe was already seated and Kate realized they’d stopped the show on their arrival. “Please excuse the interruption.”
“So, Andre, you were saying about this website?” Sharpe continued.
“I found this website and, I don’t know, I guess I was curious.” He cast his eyes down.
“How did you find this site? I find it hard to believe something like that would exist and no one would say anything to the authorities about it, or it wouldn’t have been flagged by an ISP provider or something of that nature.”
“It’s on the dark web.”
“You know how to access the dark web?”
> “Yes. It’s not that hard, actually.”
“Just answer the questions, Andre,” Grainger said.
“And that’s where you found these--what did you call them--performance pieces?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you didn’t think it was at all necessary to let the police know what was happening?”
“You don’t have to answer that.” Grainger looked to Sharpe. “Detective, let’s keep this conversation on point.”
“Okay, then.” Sharpe placed a laptop on the desk. “Take us there. Show us this site.”
Andre looked at Grainger.
“We talked about this. You need to help them if they’re to help you. That’s the arrangement.”
Andre opened the laptop and began to type, continuing for several minutes.
“Are you just yanking our chain, here, Andre, because this seems to be taking a long time,” Sharpe said.
“I said it wasn’t that hard to get into the dark web. I didn’t say it was quick.” He turned the screen toward Sharpe. “Anyway, this is it. This is the site. I guess it’s still up and running.”
The team moved in for a closer look.
“Where are the videos?” Kate asked.
Sharpe tried to navigate the site and looked to Andre. “Where do you find the videos?” He turned the screen back. “Show us.”
Andre began to search the site, checking each page. He looked to Grainger. “I don’t see them anymore. They used to be right here. Now all it says is ‘more to come.’”
Grainger turned his attention to Sharpe. “Doesn’t seem to be anything here. Just a blog. No videos.”
Sharpe reached for the laptop and spun it around. “Andre, you’d better not be screwing around with us.”
“I’m not. They were there. I swear it. He even threatened me because he knew I was—watching.”
“That’s right. You said he was coming after you.” Sharpe cast a stern eye to Andre. “How was he planning on doing that, exactly? Does he know where you live?”
“I don’t know. He tricked me into following him. Left me clues. And at Leimert Park, I know he saw me. That’s why I was afraid to say anything. And now it looks like he got rid of the videos.”
“I don’t see any threatening posts either, Andre. Nothing mentioning any threats to you personally. You sure you aren’t just playing us?”
“I’m not. Please, you have to believe me. It’s probably because he saw your news conferences. He knows you’re onto him.”
“We made no mention of you or any possible suspect. He would have no idea except for what we’ve already stated about the previous victims,” Sharpe continued.
“Hang on. Take a look at some of the most recent comments.” Kate pointed to the screen. “‘Where are the videos? When is your next performance?’ And take a look here. This one says, ‘I heard someone saw you. Does that mean this is it?’”
“Christ. How many fans did this guy have?” Nick stood in disbelief.
“A lot,” Andre replied.
“That’s enough. My client has assisted you as you’ve asked. I think it’s time we talk about that deal you promised,” Grainger said.
“There’s nothing here, Robert. Your client has done nothing more than show us a website he says will give us the man behind the camera. I see no such evidence,” Sharpe said.
“How could I know he was going to pull the videos? I did what you said. You can’t charge me with these murders. I didn’t do it.”
“You sure as hell enjoyed watching them happen, didn’t you? How the hell do we know you aren’t in it with him, huh?” Sharpe pounded his fist on the table.
“Okay,” Nick pressed his hand on the detective’s shoulder. “Maybe you should step outside for a minute to cool off.”
Sharpe thrust the chair from beneath him, knocking it over, and marched out of the room.
“What am I supposed to do?” Andre pleaded with his attorney. “I can’t help it if it’s not there now.”
“We’ll be right back.” Nick motioned to his team and the three stepped outside.
“What now?” Dwight asked. “You guys think what Knight’s saying is true?”
“I do.” Kate turned to Nick.
“So do I.”
“Okay. I’ll reach out to Vasquez. Have her work on identifying an IP address or ISP for this website. Anything she can find,” Dwight said.
“If it’s on the dark web, it won’t be easy to trace,” Kate said.
“I know, but it’s worth a shot. You want me to have her get it taken down?” he asked Nick.
“I think that would be a mistake,” Kate replied. “We don’t want this guy to know we’re onto him.”
“He might already know,” Nick said.
“I don’t think so, or the site would be down. He removed the videos, but I think he craves the attention too much. He’ll lose his followers if he stops posting. What if we use Knight? Have him post a reply to the supposed threat he received?”
Nick considered the idea. “To what end?”
“Bait, pure and simple. This guy is clearly an egomaniac. He needs people to watch him, admire him. We’ll use Andre to bait him. Have him apologize. Tell him how much he admires his work and that he couldn’t help but follow him to see him in action. And that he must continue on. Then we’ll have him. We’ll know where and when he’s going to act because he’s so damn arrogant that he posts everything he’s about to do before he does it. That’s how Knight was able to track him down.”
“That could work,” Dwight began.
“I agree. Let’s get Sharpe on board.” Nick began to walk back inside.
“Agent Reid had a suggestion.” He turned to Kate. “You want to let everyone in on your thoughts?”
Sharpe had reentered after a moment to settle his temper. “What’s going on?”
“Agent Reid was about to lay out a plan that should help us find our ‘man behind the camera,’” Dwight said.
All eyes turned to Kate. “Andre, we’d like you to communicate with him. You said he threatened you. Even going so far as to frame you for the latest attack. Answer him by lavishing compliments on his talents. Beg him to continue.”
“What do you hope to accomplish with that, Agent Reid?” Grainger asked.
“First of all, if you want that deal, you have to help us because what you’ve given us here isn’t enough.”
“Agreed,” Sharpe said.
“Our hope is that this person won’t be able to ignore the pleas. Andre, you’ll call for him to continue his work. The man we’re dealing with is a narcissist. Why else would he be so bold? Because he thinks he can get away with it. And his fans have let him so far.”
“And then what?” Andre asked.
“We’ll follow him and stop him before it happens. Can you do that, Andre? Remember your family. You’ll want to keep them from knowing the worst of this, right?”
Resigned to his fate, Andre nodded. “Yes. I can do it.”
CHAPTER 23
The late model BMW had begun to draw unwanted attention. The luxury vehicle shimmered beneath the glow of the parking lot lamppost and could not have appeared more out of place, particularly in this part of town. But Vince Sanchez had made the desperate call and now waited in the parking lot of a grocery store. It was Aguilar’s visit that prompted the drive and the impending meeting. However, his cohort had yet to arrive.
Vince checked the time again. The man was late and the hour had become even later. He worked the morning news for KTLA and would have to be there in just three short hours. Time was running out and this issue needed to be put to bed. He’d begun to regret the deal they’d made.
He peered through the windshield at what looked to be a car approaching, except its headlights were not shining. “That better be you, you son of a bitch. You’re a half-hour late.”
An old black Chevy Malibu pulled alongside Vince. He waited for the driver to kill the engine and roll down his window. When he did, Vince began
, “Where the hell you been? You’re late.”
“You think I got nothing better to do than meet with you, Vince? I got my own shit to deal with. What do you want anyway? Pulling me away at this time of night.”
“I thought you preferred working at night,” Vince replied. “We need to cool things off for a while.”
“Why? Because of that moronic fan who followed me? I already put him in his place.”
“You know that girl is still alive, right? How long you think it’ll be before they find you?”
“They aren’t going to find me. She didn’t see my face and even if she did, I had my disguise. Besides, I think the cops have enough evidence to find that little shit who thought he could take part in my plan. That buys me more time to continue my work.”
“Oh, and hey, thanks for leaving your hat at my place. A friend of mine found it and I had to play it off.”
“Did you bring it? It’s my favorite one.”
Vince tossed it out the window and into the man’s car. “There. You’d better keep track of your shit. So, like I said, we have to put the kibosh on this for a while.”
The man stepped out of his car, and while there were only a few feet between them to begin with, he stood directly in front of Vince’s driver’s side door and squatted down. With his elbows resting on the door, he firmly held Vince’s gaze. “You think you’re in control here? I’m the one who tells you when and where. I’m the one who makes sure you get the scoop. You don’t tell me when we’re done. Do I make myself clear?”
Vince didn’t flinch. “You’re forgetting one thing here, I can always tell the cops about you.”
The man smiled. “Don’t threaten me with something you have no intention of following through with. You’re in this too, Mr. Sanchez, and don’t you forget that.” He pushed back up to his feet. “Now, I have things to do. And as usual, you’ll be the first to know.”
“What about the witness?” Vince asked.
“He didn’t see me. He saw the fan who’s been following me for a week. Don’t worry, he won’t be a problem for much longer.” The man slid back into his car, keyed the ignition, and began to pull away from the BMW, but not before revealing a brutish smile. “You worry too much, Vince.”