“This is an unusual situation.”
Tomio’s lips pressed tight as he tapped a few keys on his keyboard.
“I also need a key for McCray’s room.”
“Same issue,” Tomio said, but continued typing and then took a keycard, swiped it through a reader, and set it on the front of the keyboard.
He opened a drawer and plugged a flash drive into this computer then looked up. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You know, I feel a need to use to the restroom. With the blizzard I don’t have anyone else to man the desk. I sure hope no one tries to take the key for Room 232 or sees that I left the surveillance footage open.”
He stepped away, and Alex almost gaped after him. Almost. Looking around, he saw no one in the area, so he ran around the other side of the desk and started copying the video files to the flash drive just as Tomio had planned. When it finished, he closed the files, pocketed the drive, then grabbed the key. Checking the area again and ensuring no one was around, he headed to the stairs and took them two at a time. At McCray’s door, he pounded with his fist to make sure the guy heard him.
No answer.
He knocked again. “Open up, McCray.”
No response.
Alex figured the man was passed out or gone, so he swiped the key and the door popped open. He looked around the guest room and saw McCray sprawled across his bed, facedown. Alex walked into the room and shook McCray’s leg. He didn’t stir. Not even a fraction of an inch. Alex went around and thumped him on the head. No movement.
An empty pint of vodka lay next to the bed. McCray had come back here and drunk himself into a stupor. The team’s prior research on the man said he recently split with this wife and developed a serious drinking problem. They believed that could be the key to taking him down. It just might be.
Alex snapped on a pair of latex gloves and took the opportunity to look through the room. He didn’t expect to find any information regarding McCray’s gun running operation. McCray would never leave anything like that laying around, but there was no telling what else Alex might find that would be helpful to the murder investigation and the gun running, too.
Alex riffled through the bedside drawer and found a 9mm gun at the bottom. Alex wasn’t a weapons expert, but he smelled the gun just as he had with Whitney’s little blue number. In his opinion, this gun hadn’t been fired recently, either. Unless McCray cleaned it. Alex moved through the room, keeping his eyes open for any gun cleaning supplies.
Thankfully, Alex hadn’t been deputized so he didn’t have to abide by investigative protocol. He pocketed the gun for Sam’s review. Though she wasn’t a firearms specialist, she’d seen her share of guns over the years and could provide a more accurate analysis. If it turned out the gun had been fired, Alex may have screwed up the investigation by taking it, but he was willing to risk it to disarm McCray.
He finished searching drawers and under the bed, then slid his hands along the mattress edges. He checked out the guy’s suitcase and ski equipment. Coming up empty-handed, Alex slipped out of the room and went straight outside. The wind had picked up, biting into his face, the snow feeling like shards of ice sandpapering his face.
He wanted to bend his head down and protect his skin, but with a killer on the loose he had to keep his head on a swivel. He grabbed the tent zipper and slid it up, his cold hands refusing to work efficiently. He felt like sighing in relief protected by the tent. The sides rattled in the wind. Still, he felt cocooned. But with a dead body.
He found Sam squatting next to the victim, lifting a frozen blood sample from the snowy ground. She looked up. “Any developments?”
“I got video files for the last month and a key for McCray’s room. What about you? Locate anything here to help?”
“Unfortunately, no. I took the victim’s prints with my electronic scanner earlier and sent them to Nate. Just heard back from him. No match in AFIS. So we have a bona fide John Doe on our hands.”
All law enforcement used the Automated Fingerprint Identification System to look for matches to lifted prints. AFIS held fingerprints for all convicted felons and also for law enforcement officers.
“If he’s never been arrested it could shoot down my theory that he’s here to meet with McCray.”
“Or not. Maybe he’s just careful. Or lucky and hasn’t been collared.”
“Could be.” But Alex doubted it.
She put the blood sample in an evidence bag. “You brought the drone, right?”
He nodded. “But flying it in this storm would be nuts.”
“Agreed, but if it clears a bit and Nate still can’t get a chopper in here, I can fly the sample out. DNA could give us an ID if he’s in CODIS, and at a minimum, we can get a more exact age than our estimated age of forty.”
“Seriously, you can get age from a blood sample?”
“Yes.”
He had no idea that was possible. “That could help us I suppose, but right now I don’t see how.”
“Every piece of the puzzle adds up in an investigation. You know that, but maybe your brain froze out there.” She laughed.
He chuckled, too. “You do know joking is my thing with the team, right? And you’re not going to try to step on that.”
“I get it, but come on, lightening the mood when faced with murder is a cop’s go-to response, so you have to cut me some slack here.”
“I get it. Trust me.” Soldiers did the same thing. Civilians not so much. They thought the officer or solider was being disrespectful. But climb in their shoes or boots for a few days, and they’d soon understand it was a defense mechanism that allowed them to continue to do their jobs.
Sam’s expression turned serious. “What’s with the joking anyway?”
Right. Like he was going to discuss that with her. “Can’t a guy just like to kid around with his buddies?”
“Sure, but something tells me you’re using it as a cover-up for something else.”
“What is this? Sam’s Psychology 101?”
“Nah, just my old cop sense tingling.”
The last thing Alex wanted right now was to be analyzed by Sam—or anyone else for that matter. He took out the gun from his pocket and gave it to her, planning to hand over Whitney’s next. “McCray’s passed out like we thought, and I found this in his room. Doesn’t seem like it’s been fired recently. No sign of gun cleaning supplies in the room, either. I doubt he cleaned it here. And his sorry state makes me wonder if he could possibly be our shooter.”
“He was in good enough shape to fire a gun when he left the restaurant. Maybe not hit his target, but fire it.” She lifted the gun to her nose and inhaled. “You’re right. Not fired recently, but let me check for gunpowder residue in the barrel, too.”
“If you find any, that’ll just tell you it hasn’t been cleaned since it was last fired.”
“Right, but with no cleaning supplies in the room, if it comes up clean we can assume it’s not the murder weapon.” She went to a folding table they’d set up and took a swab from her kit then inserted it in the barrel and withdrew it. “Clean. This isn’t our murder weapon. Doesn’t mean McCray didn’t have another gun that he ditched after killing this guy.”
Alex had to admit he was disappointed. “I knew it was too easy, but still…”
“You wanted us to nail McCray and find this killer all in one.”
He nodded.
“And you hoped it proved Whitney was innocent, too.”
He didn’t know how to answer that, so he didn’t.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Avoiding your interest in her won’t make it go away. Might even make it seem more interesting.”
“I’m so not having this conversation with you.”
“Okay.” She grinned. “I’ll back off…for now.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “She was carrying when I went to her apartment.”
“She—what?”
He dug out Whitney’s gun from his other pocket and relayed their conversation before he
handed it over.
She studied it. “The gun’s pretty cute, isn’t it?”
Alex groaned. “‘Cute’ and ‘gun’ are words that should never be said in the same sentence.”
She laughed and tested it as well. “There’s residue here.”
She sniffed the barrel. “Doesn’t seem to be fired recently, though.”
“I thought as much,” he said, and was surprised at how relieved he sounded.
“This isn’t proof she didn’t shoot it, you know?”
“I know. We’ll need the slug to compare.”
“Exactly.”
“Anything I can do to help you here before I go watch the videos I got from Tomio?”
She nodded at the south side of the tent. “That side looks like it’s going to come free so if you could secure it, that would help.”
“I’m on it.” He wasn’t eager to go back into the cold, but he was eager to get away from Sam’s psychoanalysis. The last thing he needed was for her to try to dig into his past relationship with his mother when that’s where he wanted to leave it. In the past.
6
The next day the storm hadn’t abated even a fraction, and Alex spent the day researching and watching most of the CCTV footage without any leads. Now he sat across the table from the infamous McCray. Sam perched on the edge of a chair just to his right. Alex could hardly believe McCray showed up on time for his interview. Actually, that he showed up at all. And sober. But he had. Even a few minutes early. Now the conference room seemed darker somehow… as if he brought evil with him. He had that look. Darkness. Danger. Just this side of sane and balanced, and any action could push him to the dark side.
“So we meet again.” McCray’s snide grin sliding through his bristly whiskers grated on Alex, and he wanted to deck the guy. “You dis me and now you want me to cooperate with you.”
“Want isn’t the right word, Mr. McCray.” Sam eyed him and clasped her hands together on the table. “I’m fully deputized, and I expect your cooperation.”
His grin widened, confident, cocky, and he turned his full attention on Sam. “Well, now, little lady. You’re a different story. I’m glad to answer any and all of your questions.”
He tried to rest his hand over hers. She jerked back, but her rebuff didn’t faze McCray in the least. In fact, his interest grew, and he leaned toward her while running his gaze over her head to toe. Pausing along the way. Holding. Lingering.
Alex wanted to say something. Put the man in his place and warn him not to treat Sam like that. But Alex knew Sam wouldn’t appreciate him coming to her defense any more than Whitney had wanted him to yesterday. Sam was a tough, confident woman. One who’d held a lot of authority as a police officer, and she’d dealt with guys like McCray on the job. Of that Alex was certain.
She took a deep breath. “What did you do when you left the restaurant after lunch yesterday?”
“Headed straight back to my room.”
Sam picked up a pen and twirled it for a moment, then snapped it down on the table. “Can anyone vouch for that?”
He took a long moment before answering. Maybe making up an alibi. Alex could read people well but, in this case, he couldn’t tell what was behind the man’s dark gaze.
McCray picked a piece of lint from his sleeve and flicked it away. “Not sure why anyone would need to do that, but no. I’m here alone on a breather from work.”
“What’s your line of work?” Alex asked and couldn’t wait to hear his lie.
“You hear something, missy?” He cupped his hand behind his ear. “Sounded like a bug to be swatted.”
“Just answer the question, Mr. McCray,” Sam said, his name coming out like a hurled insult.
He frowned, and his black eyes darkened to shiny obsidian. “I’m in the import/export business.”
“What kind of products do you handle?”
He shrugged and seemed to relax, but his expression remained tight. “A little of this and that. Depends on the market.”
Alex doubted they were going to pin him down with questions. It was time to try to bluff his way to getting an answer. “You mentioned being alone here, but you were seen with another man.”
A flash of surprise lit his face before he scrubbed his hand over his chin and mouth. Could Alex have been on target? Had McCray actually met with his contact and they’d missed catching them in the act?
“Was a maintenance man. Had a bulb out in my room.”
Alex was impressed with the quick response but he wasn’t going to let it go. “So this maintenance man came into your room to change a lightbulb?”
McCray gave a single nod of his head.
“When was that?”
“Don’t rightly remember. And before you go asking Tomio about it, I didn’t have to bother the front desk. I saw the guy in the hallway and called him in.”
His story was growing, providing unnecessary details. Embellishing a story was a perfect example of someone who was lying, but there was no way for Alex to dispute McCray’s statements. He took out his phone and swiped it open to reveal the deceased’s photo.
“Did the maintenance man look like this?” He shoved the phone at him and kept his focus on McCray’s face to gauge his reaction.
Recognition sparked in his eyes, but he quickly erased it. “Nah. Never seen this guy. I assume he’s the guy who was shot. At least he looks dead in that picture. I hear you’re having a hard time ID’ing him. Too bad you don’t have the skills to get the job done.” That snide smile returned as he taunted them.
Alex refused to take the bait. “So you’ve been alone here the entire time? No friends? No business associates?”
“Yep. Not that I really want to be. Or deserve to be, if you know what I mean.” He looked at his fingernails and buffed them against his shirt. “Was looking for some action with that hot waitress, but you botched that for me.”
“You botched it all by yourself.” Alex had managed not to respond to the taunts thus far, but McCray’s comment about Whitney had Alex’s fingers curling into fists under the table. He held them tightly balled. If he didn’t, he’d surely slam a fist into McCray’s face. “She’s a classy lady and doesn’t deserve your Neanderthal pawing.”
McCray arched an eyebrow so high that Alex thought it might merge with his already receding hairline. “Sounds to me like you’ve got a thing for her. No way you could score with her over me. So tell you what.” He leaned back in his chair as if he owned the world, or at least this room, then brushed off his sleeve as if covered in lint. “I’ll back off and let you have her.”
Alex clenched his hands harder, his nails biting into his palms, raw anger building to explosive proportions.
“Let’s stick to the interview questions,” Sam said, drawing McCray’s attention.
Alex knew she was doing it on purpose to let him cool down, but with the slimy way McCray ogled her, she had to be cringing inside. And he had to give her props. If she was indeed troubled by his behavior, she was doing a bang-up job of not showing it.
She continued to toss out questions for the next twenty minutes, and McCray whipped out non-answers. Vague. Deceptive, like the man they’d come to know. A snide smile here. Another there. Leering looks at other times. Just plain nauseating behavior if you asked Alex, but Sam persevered until she ran out of questions.
She set down her notepad. “Please be aware that we might have additional questions, so I need you to make yourself available when we ask.”
“Oh, honey, I’m available for you day or night.” He leered at her as he pushed to his feet. “I was just heading in for some dinner. Maybe you want to join me.”
Sam glared at him.
He winked. “What can I say? You’re a real hottie.”
Sam slapped her pen down on the table. “Good day, Mr. McCray.”
He chuckled and sauntered toward the exit.
The moment the door closed, Alex slammed his fists on the table, then jumped up, fury boiling inside him. He wante
d to punch holes in the wall.
Sam exploded from her chair and started pacing, her hands planted rigidly on her waist. “Oh, man. Man. Not giving him a piece of my mind was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
Alex took a breath to calm himself, allowing him to focus on helping Sam. “I’m impressed by how you handled yourself. I couldn’t have done it in your shoes. I wanted to deck him.”
“Why do guys like that always get away with breaking the law?
Yes, why, God?
Alex thought about John Doe. About the violent ending of his life. The shooter could act again, and Alex suddenly felt a need to go check on Whitney.
He stood and grabbed his jacket. “I’ve got this hinky feeling about Whitney and the kids. Not sure why or what. Maybe because of the way McCray talked about her, and he might go looking for her.”
Sam paused to look at him. “He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would battle the storm for that. He’ll just hit on the nearest female who captures his interest.”
“Yeah, maybe, but I gotta follow my gut.” Alex slipped into his jacket and zipped it up. “This won’t take me long, and then we can meet up for dinner and recap the day.”
“You could just call her.”
“I could, but then if she was under duress I might not pick up on that.”
“Good point.” She dropped into the chair and grabbed her phone. “I’ll go ahead and update Nate while you’re gone.”
Alex was out the door before she even connected her call, and as he strode across the nearly empty lobby, he put on his hat and gloves. On the porch, the storm hit him like the concussive wave from the bomb that stole his hearing, and he had to pause then arch his body to get moving.
Down on the ground it was more protected and easier going. He moved, but just ahead a figure darting through the snow caught his attention. The person followed along the rope strung by Tomio, likely a staff person, but Alex couldn’t be too careful. He hurried forward, and in a protected corner of the apartment breezeway, he found Yuki brushing snow off her jacket.
“You must be nuts to come out in this weather,” he shouted over the wind.
Cold Pursuit Page 5