Simon Says... Jump (Kate Morgan Thrillers Book 2)

by Dale Mayer

  He stared at her in shock.

  “And I came racing over here, used my badge to pull authority over your doorman to get up here, to get inside your apartment, and to find you in some sort of catatonic state, completely helpless. What the hell does that say about me?”

  He reached over, picked up the one hand that wasn’t supporting her head, brought it to his lips, where he kissed her gently, and whispered, “You won’t like my answer.”

  She stared at him, her gaze hard. “And what would that be?”

  “That you’re psychic?”

  She bolted to her feet and paced around the room.

  Obviously not the answer she wanted to hear, and he could understand because it was her inherent disbelief in this whole process that caused her so much trouble. “I don’t know what it is,” he said, “but I’m grateful.”

  “But you would have been fine, right?” When he didn’t answer, she pressed heavier.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I was connected, but I don’t know how it works.” He shrugged. “It’s my first time to experience this—fully. I don’t know. I’ve tried to snap free, and I did manage to one time. I couldn’t snap free this time.” He stopped, frowned, and looked out the window. “It’s almost like I can see that water again right now. But I don’t feel that she’s there. I feel that, for her, this is her end result, and it’s just a matter of the timing.”

  “Do you feel that she’s being pressured?”

  He nodded. “Yes, she’s for sure pressured, but I don’t know if she’s doing the pushing. For all I know, she’s conflicted, and one part of her is saying, Do this, and the other part is saying, Don’t do this.”

  “I think every suicide victim is torn, and mental arguments like that one are part of the norm,” she murmured, as she looked over at him.

  “All I can tell you is, when I came home, I got sucked into this vision, and that’s where I was stuck. I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t get in.”

  “Do you know why?”

  Part of Simon’s worry was, if he was connected to this person, and then she died, what would happen to him? “You’re looking for a reassurance, and I don’t have it to give. I can only follow this plan, this program. I don’t know the rules of the game. I don’t know the borders and the boundaries of human behavior here. I don’t understand how the psychic energy works. I don’t understand why I’m picking up on her and only her. I’m learning as I go. As for uncertainties? Blocking it completely? That’s the one thing I guarantee you that I can’t give you.”

  At that, she turned and walked out of the apartment, leaving him alone.

  Chapter 17

  Kate’s Thursday Morning

  Kate walked into the station the next morning, exhausted, frustrated, angry, and depressed. Even though she’d given herself a bolstering talk this morning, she knew her expression would tell the rest of her team the reality of her rough night.

  Rodney got up and said, “Hey, let me grab you a coffee.”

  She looked at him in surprise and then nodded, without saying anything. She sat down at her desk and turned on her computer.

  In the background, Lilliana quietly asked, “Are you okay?”

  She lifted her thumb up and said, “I’m just peachy.”

  Obviously from her tone of voice, Kate wasn’t peachy at all, but it was also fair warning to everybody to stay the hell away, that she was dealing. The problem was, she didn’t know exactly what she was dealing with. This was too stupid, too sad, and too extreme for anyone to even begin to help her.

  “Well, if you want good news,” Lilliana said, “we’ve got an address for your Tex guy.”

  Kate spun in her chair, looked at Lilliana, and said, “Seriously?”

  “Yes,” she said, “but what we don’t have is any a motive. Did you consider that?”

  She shook her head. “No, one of the two guys at the station said that he’d gotten into trouble for stealing something.”

  “Interesting. Any idea what he took?”

  “It wasn’t proven, but they alluded to car parts. But, if he did that there, maybe he did it somewhere else. We need to track him down and see what his next place of work was.”

  “We have nothing on record after that garage,” Lilliana said.

  “Doesn’t mean he didn’t work for somebody. He could have been working for cash under the table.”

  “Yes, but we don’t have anything where his social insurance number was used.”

  “Right,” Kate said thoughtfully. “Well, I’m up for having a talk with him. See what the hell he knows.” Kate looked over at Rodney.

  He nodded, as he came back with coffee. “You want to have a little coffee and go then?”

  Kate said, “Yeah, I need to check in with Forensics and deal with emails, and then we’ll go,” she said, reaching for the coffee. “And thanks for this. I need it today.”

  As Rodney sat at his own desk, running through his emails, he asked, “Problems in paradise?”

  “No, not necessarily,” she said quietly. “It’s just he’s different. Comes with baggage.”

  He looked over and said, “Can he read minds?” The question just seemed to burst out of him.

  She stared at him in shock. “Jesus, I hope not,” she said, with a half laugh.

  “Hey, it’s just a thought,” he said. “Can you imagine living with that?”

  “No,” she said, “I can’t.” By the time she’d gone through her email, Kate reached for the phone and called Forensics. “Anything on the truck?”

  “Lots of DNA, nothing in the database,” said Bronwyn on the other end. “We’re still working on it.”

  “What about the suicide emails?”

  “Yeah, now that’s an interesting one,” Bronwyn said. “We have a couple email addresses that we think we can work through the system.”

  “Sounds good,” Kate said. “If you can run that down, it would be great. I really would like a chance to talk to somebody.”

  “Ah, that’s still not a crime in Canada.”

  “Suicide is not a crime, but aiding and abetting it is,” she said.

  “You’re not thinking these are assisted suicides, are you?”

  “No, not physically, but, if they’re being threatened, and it’s presented as suicide or else, that’s a problem.”

  “Hmm,” Bronwyn murmured, “the prosecutors would have a heyday with that.”

  “Absolutely, but I want to stop this guy. And, if we can find out how many chats he’s dealing with, it would help.”

  “Well, we’ve locked it down to thirteen.”

  “What does that mean though, thirteen what?”

  “I’m saying, thirteen that he’s had success with.”

  Kate froze and stared at the phone. “Success with what?”

  “It looks like thirteen of the people he’s talked to have committed suicide.”

  “Jesus,” Kate said, sitting back and looking over at the others in her team. Immediately aware that something was happening, the others turned toward her. “So you’re saying that this guy, through the chat, had communications with thirteen people who followed through and committed suicide.”

  “He had communications with a lot more people than that,” Bronwyn said. “But thirteen of them committed suicide. And we don’t have a private personal email that we can check to see if they did something off chat. This is just what we found through the online chats,” she said. “I highly suspect that, if we could track down that private email address, we could get more information.”

  “What about the emails you got from David’s laptop?”

  “That’s the one we’re working on right now,” she said. “We’re close, really close.”

  “So, we’re thinking that he may have thirteen victims?” Kate said.

  “Depending on how you want to phrase it, yes,” Bronwyn said. “Based on the tone of the chats, I’d say he’s had a hand in at least thirteen.”

  “And are they all local?”<
br />
  “The thirteen are. As for everybody else, I have no idea. You’ll have to do some running around online and through other jurisdictions to answer that question.”

  “So he could be doing this globally too.”

  “These chats are local,” Bronwyn said, “specifically for the Vancouver Lower Mainland, although there are branches for Surrey, Burnaby, Langley, Chilliwack.” She paused. “We haven’t gone through all of those yet.”

  “Fine,” Kate said. “Can you send me the names of everybody who it looks like he’s contacted?” With that agreed to, she hung up and hopped to her feet. Looking around at the team, she said, “That jumper scenario—”

  “The one with the threatening note?” Lilliana asked.

  “Yeah, they tracked an email address down on the chats, and they feel that, through various chats, this guy has had communication with thirteen confirmed jumpers in the Lower Mainland.” At that point she had their full attention.

  “And he’s pushing people to commit suicide?”

  “That’s why I’m asking for copies of all the chat records,” she said, “but, according to Bronwyn in Forensics, yes. What we don’t know is whether there are also any private emails. Of course we expect there to be but Forensics doesn’t have a handle on any private DM addresses. That’s something we need to contact the relatives for, to see if we can get a hold of their laptops.”

  Lilliana nodded slowly. “Why does that number sound familiar?”

  Rodney stood and looked at Kate. “Thirteen.”

  She stared at him, puzzled.

  He said, “Check your phone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What was that number Simon texted you again?”

  She stared at them, the color fading from her cheeks, before she whispered, “Thirteen. He keeps telling me thirteen.”

  “Jesus,” Lilliana said. “We need to have a talk with him.”

  “I’ll talk to him later,” Kate said, shoving it down deep inside. “Only so much I can deal with at once. We’re waiting on Forensics for this lead now, so let’s go talk to Tex, our possible drive-by shooter. By the way, ballistics matched our current shooting with the one from three years ago.” And, with that, she led the way out the door.

  Rodney raced to catch up with her. “That’s got to be what the thirteen is.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Will you ask him about it?”

  “No,” she said, “not right now.”

  “Trouble in paradise,” he said. “I knew it.”

  “The only problem in paradise,” she said, “is being with a psychic, who is very tormented by his visions.”

  At that, Rodney winced. “You know what? I can see that. Do you want to be the one on the other end of these crazy phone calls or these crazy messages?”

  “No,” she snapped. “I really don’t.”

  He nodded. “Okay, so let’s park that for now. Clearly you’re pretty good at compartmentalizing, and let’s focus on this kid and the shootings. What the hell would be his motive? Because, you know, that’s what kept me awake in the night. I don’t understand why somebody would want anything to do with these drive-by shootings.”

  “It’s a hands-off way of getting payback, but we don’t know payback from what or from who,” she said. “But sometimes motives seem awfully thin.”

  “Meaning that a motive may not be enough for you and me but seems to be enough to trigger the perp?”

  “Yes,” she said, with a shrug. “When you think about it, you know, we’re all different people. We don’t understand how people can do some of this twisted-up shit that they’re doing, but they do. And, as long as we have enough proof to explain it to the DA, then it doesn’t really matter what we think of it. We’re doing our job anyway.”

  He nodded. “I get it,” he said. “We’re doing our job, even when we don’t necessarily understand it.”

  “Maybe you should drive,” she muttered.

  “Yeah, you think?” he said, as he walked over to his car. “Sounds like a good idea.”

  With that, he unlocked the vehicle, and she got in on the passenger side. She pulled up the address that they had been given. “Interesting. East Hastings.”

  “Yeah, so he may not have a ton of money coming in,” he said, “but maybe he’s got a job.”

  “There was something about him being lazy, remember?” she said, studying the traffic, as they headed toward an old apartment building. As they got out and looked around, she said, “This doesn’t say wealthy or decent job. This says rundown, out of luck, and having a tough time with life.”

  “And that could be part of the shooter’s motivation,” Rodney said.

  “Meaning that you think he’s getting money for these hits?” She looked at him in surprise.

  “No, that’s not what I meant at all.” He frowned. “Are you thinking these are pros?”

  “No,” she said, “not at all. It was your comment about the money aspect. I’m wondering if he’s just angry about his lot in life. Like maybe he feels like the world owes him or maybe there is some connection that we haven’t found yet between him and the victims.”

  Rodney replied, “So far, we haven’t found any connection. Not schools, not religious groups, not online chats, nothing. Nothing that connects the victims and nobody in common who would allow us to connect to him. But now that we have a name, we can carry on and see if he’s involved with them somehow. At the moment, we’re just talking to the one next puzzle piece we have to work with. That’s all this detective work is. But, in the best of times, you track down every lead, and you chase down each piece of information and hope that, at the end of the day, you’ve gathered up enough information and puzzle pieces that go together in a coherent pattern, and then you find your suspect.”

  “Agreed,” she said. “Some days that’s easier to do than others.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, some days it seems like we just make it more confusing instead of less. That’s where persistence comes in. Our job is not for everyone.”

  “No,” she said; then she chuckled. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  As they knocked on the apartment, there was no answer. They knocked again and then waited. They heard an odd shuffling sound inside. They shared a look, and Rodney whispered, “I’ll go to the other hallway there.”

  She nodded and knocked again. Still no answer. She stealthily walked to the opposite staircase. With each of them at either end of the hallway, they sat here and waited. They waited a good forty-five minutes. Finally their patience was rewarded when the door opened, and a younger male stuck his head out slowly, checking in both directions. When it seemed clear, he got out, closed the door quietly, and headed down the hallway toward Kate’s position.

  He walked with a limp, and it was obvious that his arm was injured too. Although neither injury looked new. She frowned at that thought. When he got closer to her, she stepped out in front of him. “Hi, Tex.”

  He froze, then looked at her in absolute terror and said, “Who are you? What do you want?” His voice revealed his stress level and came out in a high-pitched squeak.

  She pulled out her badge and said, “Well, we want to talk to you.”

  He squealed, turned, and bolted right into Rodney’s arms.

  Quickly subdued, still standing in the hallway, Tex turned as she approached him. “Why did you run, Tex?”

  He shook his head. “I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Nothing to do with what?”

  “Whatever you want me for,” he said. “I can’t do nothing, see? I’m injured.”

  “Well, I can see that you’re injured. What happened?”

  “Some guys beat me up a while ago,” he said in a resentful voice.

  “Was this about three to four years ago? Because you stole from them?”

  He stared at her and then shrugged. “Maybe, but they didn’t have to do this to me,” he snapped. “I was just trying to get ah
ead.”

  “And I gather they didn’t appreciate you getting ahead at their expense.”

  “No,” he said, “but they crippled me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I guess they really didn’t like you stealing their stuff.”

  He shook his head. “No,” he said, “but they didn’t have to do this. I would have given the shit back.”

  “I wonder though,” she said, looking at him. “Maybe they’d dealt with a bunch of people who made them believe you wouldn’t.”

  “Maybe,” he said, staring at her, “but you can see this has got nothing to do with me.”

  “Yeah, what’s got nothing to do with you?”

  He looked at her and shrugged.

  “Know anything about drive-by shootings?”

  He looked to his left, down at the floor, then gave her a one-arm shrug.

  “Interesting,” she murmured. “What about the truck?”

  “What truck?” he asked, widening his eyes innocently.

  But she wasn’t fooled, since she’d seen the furtive dart to the left. “You know the truck. The one that we just picked up that got stolen from you, from where it was parked downtown. After you got out and left it running and headed back to look at the chaos you’d created.”

  He shook his head repeatedly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Well, we’ll see about that,” she said, with a half smile. “It’s motive I’m still looking at, but I think I just found it.” She glanced over at her partner. “Do you get it?”

  “Yeah, I think I do.”

  She looked at Tex. “It would have been nice if you’d had a good reason for killing those particular people though. You didn’t have to just grab those guys and shoot them because they were everything you weren’t, because you couldn’t pay back the guys who did this to you.”

  He stared at her resentfully. “They were healthy. They were fit. They were strong. They were in their prime. Not like a beaten-up cripple, whose best days were past him.” He puffed up and tried to take a step forward but tripped, his left leg quite lame.