Erica smiled. “Okay, now that we have Jason Warwick convicted, let’s build a case for Heather Gray.”
“That’s easy,” Owens said. “If the DNA on that hair found in Pennsylvania matches her, there’s a good chance that she’s our killer. Also, Jason once stated that he saw her there on the day Luis Cantrell died.”
“That DNA match would be damning,” Erica agreed. “She also had a good reason to see that Keith Pardo was tortured the way he was.”
“Do we have a DNA sample from her to match with the hair?” Troy asked Erica.
“She gave her DNA when she was attempting to get Keith Pardo prosecuted for her rape. The last I heard, we should receive the DNA results on the hair no later than tomorrow morning, and possibly tonight.”
“This new affection Heather has for Jason, maybe she has plans to frame him for the murders. Was anything found in his apartment?” Owens asked.
“Nothing incriminating, but I agree that the timing of the relationship is suspect,” Erica said. “It’s already benefitted her, by having Jason change his story about seeing her in Pennsylvania.”
“Then maybe she’ll attempt to frame Ted Marx,” Troy suggested. “Aren’t they former lovers?”
“They are.”
“Maybe they ended badly, and Heather is looking for revenge. She might be planning to kill Marx and blame it on the murderer.”
“Troy has a good point there,” Owens said. “Miranda Marx faked her attack, yes, but Marx has been disparaging of the killer and calling him names. If he were to be killed, the murder could be blamed on the nameless, faceless killer, and not an ex-lover.”
“Marx still looks good to me as a suspect,” Erica said. “He might have learned about the therapy group members and their rapists through Heather, then came up with a plan to increase his fame and fatten his wallet.”
“What about the hair found in Pennsylvania? Do you think he planted that?” Owens asked.
“Yes, and with the intent to frame Heather Gray. Like Troy said, their relationship could have ended badly. Marx may want to pay her back for leaving him.”
Owens nodded. “The fact remains that he’s the only one profiting financially by these murders. I saw on the news earlier that he’s been offered his own current events TV show. There was mention that he would be paid over a million dollars.”
“Plus, with his ex-wife’s death, he’ll no longer have to pay alimony. This killing spree is one of the best things that has ever happened to Ted Marx,” Erica said.
Troy laughed. “Okay, I’m convinced, they’re all guilty.”
Erica and Owens chuckled along with him, but then Erica shook her head sadly.
“They do all look guilty, but they’re not, only one of them. There must be something we’re not seeing that would tell us which one it is.”
“Don’t get discouraged, Erica. You and Troy have made great progress since I was laid up, and I don’t think you’ve missed anything.”
“If we did, we’ll find it,” Troy said. “After we have dinner, Erica and I are going back to the office and go over everything again.”
“I’ll give it some thought too,” Owens said. “I’ve nothing else to do, and I wouldn’t be here if not for the killer.”
“That bomb was meant to go off when William Davilla was alone,” Erica said. “The bomb squad said it was a simple device, if deadly. If Davilla had lain on the bed, he would have died instantly and absorbed most of the pipe bomb’s shrapnel.”
“Have there been any attempts on Ronald Hines’ life?” Owens asked.
“Nothing, and he never received a black envelope. It appears the killer’s last act was the planting of that bomb in Davilla’s room. They might be afraid that they’re under surveillance, which they are now. We have people watching Heather, Jason, and Marx.”
“But there must be an envelope ready to go with Hines’ name on it. Are you certain that your warrants covered everything?”
“As certain as I can be, Brad. The cops in Los Angeles even checked out the house there where Ted Marx lived when younger. He has an aunt still living there but the home is in his name.”
“He was observed meeting with Heather Gray earlier; the report stated that the conversation looked tense and that Marx grabbed Heather by the wrist,” Troy said.
“Maybe they’re in it together?” Owens suggested.
“Or it’s Jason and Marx, or Jason and Heather.”
“Or all three,” Troy said.
Erica rubbed her temples. “That’s enough. Let’s go eat, Troy. I need to take my mind off this case for a while.”
“Good idea,” Owens said. “And don’t you two stay at the office too late. There’s such a thing as overdoing it.”
Erica leaned over the bed and kissed Owens on his cheek. “You’re the one that should be taking it easy.”
“The doctors are saying they’ll release me tomorrow. I can’t wait to get out of here.”
“Rhonda has barely left your side, has she?”
“That woman is one of the best things that ever happened to me. What about Angel, has he called you today?”
“Several times. I think he’s trying to make up for being out of reach when I needed him.”
“Don’t be too hard on him; after all, he was working extra at the time to try to get ahead, right?”
“That’s true,” Erica said, while keeping her suspicions to herself. She still suspected that Angel had been spending time at Felicia Downing’s house. She would have to confront him about it when she returned home. It was a moment she was dreading. She realized she loved Angel, and now she faced the prospect of losing him.
“Where do you want to eat?” Troy asked, as they neared the elevator after leaving Owens’ room.
“Somewhere I can drown myself in a rich dessert, and I don’t care if I have to stay on the treadmill for a solid week to pay for it.”
Troy laughed, the doors on the elevator opened, and down they went to head back to Manhattan.
Chapter Fifty-Five
NEW YORK CITY, MONDAY, JULY 22nd
Traffic was heavy on the way back to Manhattan. Erica and Troy wound up eating dinner after eight o’clock and both were famished by the time the food arrived at the table. As a result, there was little talking during the feast as they enjoyed their meals, chicken Alfredo for Erica and a porterhouse steak for Troy.
Once the meal was completed, they both ordered coffee. Despite her intention to indulge in a rich dessert, Erica found herself too stuffed from the meal to even think about it. As a compromise, she ordered a slice of chocolate cake to go.
Comfortably full and with cups of good coffee in hand, Erica and Troy began talking. When Erica asked for details about the embezzlement case that Troy had worked with Colleen, he explained how it turned out. The case had gone from embezzlement to gain an undertone of political intrigue, then wound up going full circle and went back to a case of simple theft.
“In the end, it was all about money,” Troy said, and as the words left his lips, Erica felt a fluttering in her stomach. The butterflies were back, but for the life of her she didn’t know why.
“All about money,” she said softly, repeating Troy’s words, and again, there was a fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Yeah,” Troy continued. “Guy Tyler was planning to pin the theft of the hard drive on Nikki. By connecting the embezzlement to a politician and making it look like he was involved, Tyler hoped to place all the attention on that aspect. Once the media had gotten ahold of the story, with a beautiful girl to spice things up, the simple truth would have been lost forever.”
“But it was all about money?” Erica said.
Troy nodded, and then he noted the odd expression Erica had.
“Is something wrong?”
She held up a hand in a gesture indicating that she wanted Troy to remain silent, as her mind raced back over the case from the first murder to the last. When the truth struck her, it made her smile. Althou
gh it was no more than an idea, a theory, she believed she had a key that could unlock the identity of the killer.
“I think your embezzlement case and this serial killer case have something in common,” Erica told Troy.
“What’s that?”
“Misdirection, we’ve been misdirected by the killer and given an obvious motive for the murders, which was revenge for the girls who had been in the therapy group.”
Troy looked confused. “You’re saying that isn’t why these men were killed?”
“Oh no, they were killed as revenge for what they did to the girls in the group, but those murders were there to cover up another crime.”
“Which is?”
Erica grinned. “Like you said before, it’s all about money.”
“Ah, so the killer is Ted Marx? He’s the only one making bank on this case.”
“Marx could be our man, yes, but there’s more money involved, and Brad and I overlooked it. We disregarded it because we were guided by the killer to dismiss it.”
Erica grabbed her purse and stood. “Let’s get back to the office. If I’m right, we’ll know exactly who the killer is once we look at their financial records.”
Troy grabbed a white bag off the table. “You almost left your chocolate cake behind.”
“If my new theory about the case is right, we’ll cut it in half and share it to celebrate nailing the killer.”
“How about filling me in?”
Erica laughed. “Sorry, I forgot I hadn’t explained it to you.”
Erica enlightened Troy on the epiphany she’d had as they walked to the parking lot where they left their car. By the time she was finished, Troy was smiling too.
Chapter Fifty-Six
NEW YORK CITY, TUESDAY, JULY 23rd
Ted Marx, Jason Warwick, and Heather Gray were escorted into a small conference room inside the Federal Building in Manhattan.
Erica and Troy were there, as was Brad Owens, who had been released from the hospital only an hour earlier. Owens was officially on medical leave and scheduled to fly back to Washington, DC. He’d changed his afternoon flight to a later one. Owens didn’t want to miss seeing The Appointment Killer meet their date with justice.
Along with the three federal agents were two homicide detectives and the borough commander of Staten Island, where two police officers were killed by a bomb blast.
Erica, Owens, and Troy were seated on one side of a long table with windows behind them. Outside, the day was dark, as a thunderstorm hovered over the city.
Marx, Heather, and Jason were directed to seats across from the federal agents, with Marx on the left and Heather in the middle. The three cops in the room remained standing behind the suspects. If the killer had turned their head to take in the looks the men were sending their way, it would have chilled them to their core.
Erica looked across the table to lock eyes with Marx, Heather, then Jason. All three gazed back at her with expressions that revealed the apprehension and uneasiness they were feeling.
“Two of you will be walking out of this room today and allowed to go home. One of you, the one who’s murdered ten people, you’ll never be free again if there’s any justice.”
Erica’s eyes fastened onto Ted Marx. “You’ve done well at keeping up appearances, but your financial life has been in a downward spiral for years, hasn’t it, Mr. Marx?”
Marx, who was unshaven and looked hungover, took a moment to respond.
“Money comes and goes, but I’ve been rich since I was a kid in Hollywood.”
“Your money has been going out a lot more than it’s been coming in over the last few years,” Erica said.
Marx waved a dismissive hand at the comment. “I get a check every time one of my old shows airs.”
“They don’t get shown much these days though, do they?”
“Maybe not, but I have my ViewTube channel, and other things. I do all right.”
“Your apartment is mortgaged and last year you drained your investment accounts dry. Our accountants say that you would have been forced to file for bankruptcy within two years the way things were headed.”
“No, that wouldn’t happen. I would have thought of something, and now I’m bouncing back.”
“All thanks to the killer choosing you to make contact with?”
“I got lucky, yeah.”
“How much money have you made from these murders?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do, but nevermind, I already know the answer. The ad revenue on your channel is up over six-hundred percent, which I’m told could translate to an income in the high five figures a month range… if it were to continue. The merchandise that you sell related to your channel is also experiencing a huge boost, bringing in more increased earnings.”
“Um, yeah, but I haven’t seen a dime of that money yet; they don’t pay you right away.”
“So I’ve heard, on the other hand, you gained an immediate financial benefit when your ex-wife was brutally murdered. You were paying her thousands of dollars a month for over a decade, and now that’s over, and I’ve personally witnessed you expressing joy that she was dead.”
Marx looked around the room. When he turned his head and saw the stern faces the trio of cops wore, he shifted his gaze away quickly and back on Erica.
“Hey, honey, I swear to God I’ve never killed anyone.”
“There’s talk that you’ve been offered an opportunity to host a late-night current events show on a network. I would guess that will make you rich, and again, you owe it all to the murders.”
Marx had begun to sweat, although air-conditioned comfort was flowing freely from the vents in the room. After wiping his brow with his sleeve, he pleaded with Erica.
“I know you’re not crazy about me, but hon—Agent Novac, I’m not your killer.”
Erica smiled at him. “I believe you.”
“What?”
“I said I believe you. You didn’t kill anyone, not even your ex-wife. Miranda Marx was murdered to make you appear guilty.” Erica’s eyes slid to Marx’s left, past Heather, and bore down on Jason Warwick. “You killed Miranda Marx, didn’t you, Jason?”
Heather, seated beside Jason, jumped in her seat as if she’d been jolted with electricity. Heather shook her head wildly while speaking to Erica.
“Jason is not a murderer. And why would he kill Miranda Marx?”
“He felt he had to kill her,” Erica said. Her eyes were still bolted onto Jason, who stared back at her. “Originally, you were to be framed as the killer, Miss Gray. Once the two of you became lovers, Jason had to find a new patsy. He didn’t have access to Marx’s home, and he couldn’t plant evidence inside his vehicle. Any evidence found in the car could have been attributed to him as well.”
Heather took Jason’s hand. “Tell her that she’s wrong.”
Jason said nothing and his face was devoid of emotion.
Erica continued. “By murdering Mr. Marx’s ex-wife, a woman Marx had a financial incentive to see dead, and dumping her body at a site where another victim was discovered, it made Marx look attractive as the killer.”
Marx was leaned forward in his seat and gazing past Heather to glare at Jason. He then looked over at Erica. “You have proof that he’s the whack job who’s been committing these murders?”
Erica smiled. “We have proof against all three of you, thanks to Jason. The DNA results on that red hair found in Pennsylvania have come back as being a match with Miss Gray.”
“That’s not possible,” Heather said. “I’ve never been to that town where the murder happened.”
“Jason was there, and he planted that hair to incriminate you; he also mentioned that he thought he saw you there on the same day. He tried to repair the damage he’d done by recanting his story about seeing you there, but he couldn’t take back the hair.”
Heather’s hand released Jason’s as she began to believe what Erica was saying.
“You tried to
frame me for murder, for several murders? My God, Jason, did you really hate me that much?”
Jason’s cool demeanor broke. His eyes had grown moist, and he turned his head to look at Heather.
“I…those feelings are in the past; I’ve fallen in love with you.”
“Heather,” Erica said, “your rapist was the only one of the men targeted who died a slow death. I believe that was intentional to further implicate you as being behind the murders. All the rest of them died quickly, except for Craig Rubio, the man who had raped Lila Martin. Jason made sure that he suffered. We may never know how he found out, but Jason must have discovered that Rubio had a terror of drowning. He made certain that the man’s worst fear became reality.”
“You can’t prove that,” Jason said. “You have no reason to single me out as the killer. Mr. Marx’s ex-wife was killed, not mine, and it’s Heather’s hair found at the scene of a murder.” He smiled. “If any of us ever goes to trial, our lawyers would have no problem convincing a jury that there was reasonable doubt, since there’s evidence pointing to other suspects. That’s especially true in my case; there’s nothing directly tying me to the murders.”
“We know about the closet in Dr. McNamara’s basement, Jason. A jury would believe that you listened in on the therapy sessions.”
Jason swallowed hard as he shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What closet?”
“That’s okay, play dumb, but we know that you overheard everything said when the girls were having their therapy sessions, as a group and singular. That was how you knew the names of the men you killed.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“I don’t need to; we have other evidence, and it points directly to you.”
A nervous little smile played at the corners of Jason’s lips. “That’s not possible. I never killed anyone, much less ten people.”
The Appointment Killer Page 24