“It was anything but exciting once he lawyered up. And now the jurisdiction fight begins. They really have nothing to hold him on here in California, and so Washington, Massachusetts, and New York are going to battle out who gets extradition first—”
“Washington? When did Washington come in?” Mary asked.
“This is so fluid and evolving that my head’s about to explode. The working theory is Stamos was so obsessed with Fiona that he decided to dispense his own brand of justice to those he perceived had wronged or betrayed her—”
“Wait, am I missing something?” Lee asked. “This has never been discussed. I thought from the way it was going that Jeremy was trying to implicate Fiona. You know dressing up like her and leaving the wig hair evidence.”
I slapped my palm to my head. “Right, I’m ten steps ahead of you. They told me at the station that apparently, before Claire went into surgery, she said, ‘He said this is for betraying Fiona. Rot in hell. You didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.’ Claire was pretty incoherent and loaded up with pain meds, so that’s all they got. We’re making a leap that the ‘he’ was Jeremy. But really all we have is his presence in LA. So that’s the working theory.”
Lee sat back as a server placed our water glasses in front of us and took our order. “Look, it’s an excellent theory, but the evidence is, well, let’s say slippery. If Claire can identify him when she recovers as the ‘he’ she was referring to, then you’ve got motive for the murders and her attack. We already know you have the opportunity, because he was picked up on cameras. So that’s a bridge to the crimes. But there’s no direct evidence. Yes, his behavior is bizarre, but there’s no murder weapon tied to him. You didn’t say they found his clothes, which may have some blood spray to analyze, or the wig to make a definite match. What do you actually have to tie him to the crimes? The circumstantial evidence is good. But is it enough?”
“Right now, that’s not my problem. I’m leaving it to the people with higher paygrades. Because in the end, we’ll be hearing he’s pleading the insanity defense, blah, blah, blah,” I said.
“Not if it was premeditated,” Mary piped in. “But I understand what you’re saying. The one thing that I don’t understand is why now? Why right when all this is going on with the drive does he decide to go on an avenger spree? Has Fiona got something to do with this? Was this her last hurrah?”
“Legal discussion over,” I said. “The LAPD has him in custody, so there shouldn’t be more murders. Wherever he’s extradited first they’ll probably do some type of forensic psychological evaluation. And let’s not forget the man does have a history of violent crimes. He fits as someone having a predisposition for it, and he has a motive and opportunity. But was he working alone? The big question is, why did he go on this killing spree right now? So, what’s going on with the auction?”
“Nothing. There hasn’t been any activity at all,” Mary said.
“Has anyone seen Fiona?” I asked.
“No,” Mary said in a lowered voice. “Let’s just say I may have information that she made four different plans to leave, and she’s in the wind,” Mary said, touching the side of her nose.
I knew better than to ask how she’d gotten this information. “So, thoughts? Where do you go from here?” I asked.
“We were hired to find Fiona and the drive. We found her and couldn’t prove she had the drive. We all believed she wasn’t a part of the theft, until Mary’s theory. Which, I might add is truly just a theory and has no basis in fact. The woman has a right to find a new job and leave. The fact she had four exit strategies just says she didn’t want to be found. There’s nothing to tie her to the murders. We found the auction site, in effect finding the data; therefore, my work is done,” Lee said.
“So should I tell Tyler to stop looking?” Mary asked.
Lee’s phone rang. “It’s Jax,” Lee said, answering. “Stone.” He was very quiet, and there was minimal conversation before he said, “I’ll tell them.”
He disconnected and turned toward us.
“There was a shooting at Hightower’s office,” Lee said. “They don’t have all the details. But apparently, Ryan came into the office with a weapon and shot Hightower point blank. Hightower’s alive, but they’re rushing him to the hospital.”
“My God! What? Why? What was Ryan’s motive?” I asked, as I pulled my phone out to call the Seattle detective assigned to the case. He answered immediately.
Lee and Mary waited while I gathered what information was available.
“Right now Ryan’s back in the hospital and under arrest,” I told them. “But apparently, everyone thought he was going in to talk to Hightower about returning to work, and then they heard a lot of arguing. He was yelling he wanted his cut and then a gunshot. No one else was hurt.”
Lee stared at the table, but I could see his eyes moving back and forth deep in thought. “Well, there, you have all the pieces as far as I’m concerned,” he said.
“What?” I asked.
I saw Mary open her mouth to offer an opinion and shook my head no at her. “I don’t want to go into a ‘what if’ Ryan and Fiona were in it together. Or a ‘what if’ Fiona, Ryan, and Hightower were in it together,” I said. “We could spend days on what-ifs and continue going down a rabbit hole of possibilities.”
“This has been a horrible mess,” Lee said, picking up his spoon and tapping the table with it. “Belle, it’s pretty clear to me all three of them were in on it. Here’s what I think. Ryan had access to the drive and stole it. Hightower wiped the servers, and Fiona was in charge of putting the drive up for auction. The auction never took place, and we don’t know where Fiona is right now. Maybe she took off, and now the other two are left with nothing, wondering if the other is in cahoots with her. Hightower will probably be fired. Ryan will go to jail, and Fiona is probably sitting on some island sipping some fruity drink.”
Lee was just hypothesizing, but it sure sounded plausible. Once a forensic computer team was in place I believed they would find Lee was right. We sat in silence; no one wanted to admit we all felt defeated. Everyone wants things tied up in a bow at the end. But maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe it was the start of peeling back the layers. Like how Hightower really came into possession of the editing tool and how Ryan so easily stole it.
Lee raised his eyes to Mary and said, “I’m done. This isn’t for me. Everyone has lied to us. There has been total misdirection at every turn, and the body count keeps mounting. It’s bad enough when the bad guys lie to you, but when the people you think are the good guys lie, then there really is no hope. I believe our client is guilty, and I’m hoping to God he gets caught. So maybe it’s time to take another path where life isn’t all about lies and misdirection. You and Jax will have my resignation tomorrow. I’m going to start my own wood sculpting business where, at the end, everyone will get something they like and be happy.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Mary smiled.
Annabelle
The morning light hadn’t even peeked through my small apartment’s curtains, and I was already dreading the day. I looked around the pitch-dark room and cataloged my life here in New York. It was dull and minimalist. There was no longer even a flicker of a flame to brighten the room or my life. My stomach clenched thinking about returning to work, even for a minute. There was no doubt in my mind David was going to be a problem. By now, he’d probably recruited some of his friends to give me a hard time. Just who he’d recruited would dictate how hard of a time I’d have making it through the day.
I let myself run the scenarios of what-ifs as my anger built and swirled around me. Faces flashed before me as I decided who would be my friend or foe. The sides lined up pretty evenly, despite the fact most people realized David’s jokes weren’t really jokes but ploys for power. Once he found your weak spot, you either played for his team or became a punching bag for him. I decided to pull myself out of it with a shower and coffee. If I was going to run the gamut of
bad things that could happen, I should multitask while doing it. I passed my laptop on the way to the bathroom and realized I hadn’t written anything in a week. Well, who could blame me? I was two chapters from the finish, and that would be my priority tonight. This was going to be a best seller. I felt it so strongly I wrote it on a sticky note and stuck it on the top of the loose pages of the manuscript. A call to the universe I was positive would be answered in my favor.
I pushed open the heavy door to the precinct and felt like I was entering a place I no longer belonged. What normally felt comforting, today seemed foreign. I received the usual hellos from the staff up front as I braced for a cold front from my colleagues in the back. The people who were supposed to be my people. Yet when I walked back, there was almost a festive air about the place. No one appeared to have been tainted by David, if he’d told them anything.
The first thing that caught my attention was a small murder board propped up on an easel. It had pictures of Jeremy Stamos and Mahir with some notes scribbled on it. The word “closed” was written across it in bold red letters. Surely they hadn’t given up on this? Or was there an update I wasn’t aware of?
I walked through the squad room past my desk and went to the back area where the lockers lined a wall. I retrieved a manila envelope from the small shelf of my well-used and dinged-up beige locker. My locker, just like my apartment, reflected my ability to leave without a trace. No roots and no commitment to a physical place.
“Lansing, what’s with the closed notice on the Abajian case?” I asked.
“Didn’t you hear? Last night that girl who’d been stabbed in LA came around after surgery. The first thing she did was ask the police for her phone. We got real lucky on this one. When she’d seen Stamos coming toward her, she’d hit record on her phone so she could catch him saying something she could use to get an order of protection. Well, she got a lot more than she bargained for. The sick fuck wanted to terrorize her before he killed her, so he went into great detail telling her how he’d killed the others and how he planned to kill her. And as a bonus he admitted to killing the guy in Seattle. Win-win for everyone. LA recovered her phone from evidence, and by God, there it was, a confession,” he said, slamming his locker and locking it.
“Did they recover his clothes or any murder weapon?” I asked, excited. I had so many questions but so little time to ask, or we’d be late for the briefing.
“Last I heard they had just got a search warrant for the fleabag he was staying at,” he said.
“You think LA would send us a copy of the confession so we can listen to it in full?” It was so surreal. For some reason I needed to hear, in his own words, why he went on a murderous rampage. I needed to listen to the inflection in his voice and try to determine if it was the voice of a deranged man or a psychopath.
“The captain already has a copy,” he said with a wink.
Before going into the briefing, I took a moment to text Lee and Mary the good news and promised to call later. Mary responded immediately with a thumbs-up emoji, and Lee texted back “good luck.”
After a quick trip to the bathroom to give myself a small pep talk, I entered the briefing area.
I was surprised to see David and the lieutenant engaged in a lively conversation that ended with the lieutenant slapping David on the back. Odd, David remained standing there instead of returning to his seat.
“OK, people, settle down, settle down. We have a lot to cover today, and we need to get rolling,” the lieutenant said as he gestured for everyone to sit.
David remained standing in an arrogant pose with his arms across his chest and legs apart in a balanced position. His eyes swept to mine and held my stare.
“The good news is the Abajian case is closed. Last night Jeremy Stamos was charged with aggravated battery in LA after his latest victim identified him as her assailant. I just heard from the lead detective that they executed a search warrant and took a coat and wig into evidence that matches the description of the coat and wig in the footage from our cameras and Boston’s. He was stupid keeping those things. But that wig cost a couple of grand, so I guess I can understand keeping it. But a trench coat? That’s a pretty cheap purchase. They haven’t retrieved the knife yet.
“The latest victim had some instinct to hit record when he approached, and we have him confessing to the murders along with his motive. Everyone needs to get their paperwork in order. At some point, you may need to rely on it when he comes back here for our whack at him. Every T needs to be crossed, and I dotted; there will be absolutely no speculation in your report. I don’t want to read that you thought or felt something. I want to see what you did based on an occurrence and what the outcome was. I want that paperwork by the end of the shift,” the lieutenant said, tapping his papers on the podium to straighten them.
“Who gets the papers?” Clackker asked.
“I’m coming to that,” the lieutenant said, as David stepped toward the podium.
Well if that doesn’t beat all. David was going to be the lead name on finalizing the case. I knew a hell of a lot more about the case than him. I had invested a lot of time into the case—triple what David had.
“Now, for some good news. David, step right up here,” the lieutenant said as David came closer to the podium. “I’m proud today to announce that David Rizoli has been promoted to the rank of sergeant. He has worked tirelessly for…”
That’s all that registered. It was like I’d been stricken deaf. David was going to be my boss and in charge of my future. Every worst-case scenario filtered through my mind, and the more I let the possibilities infect my mind, the more dismal my life looked. The fifteen-minute briefing ended with, “Detective Hughes, a moment in my office.”
The long walk down the hall to the lieutenant’s office hit me as what a defendant must feel like waiting for the verdict and sentence to be announced. I heard laughter inside his office and waited for it to die down. I gave two quick raps and stepped inside where he and David were waiting.
“Come in, Belle,” he said waving me in, no longer laughing. “Take a seat. Now I’m sure you’re as surprised as David was at his promotion. There was a lot of competition, but we’ll get to that in a moment. I must say I’m disappointed and shocked to find out you were working the Stamos case out of the state without my authority.”
David had ratted me out. No surprise.
“Yes, I was on my own time, but I’m not surprised Detective Rizolli told you.”
“Normally, this would be placed on a review docket to determine what type of disciplinary action would be appropriate, but since the case is closed, I’m bypassing that procedure. No need for more paperwork to accumulate on my desk. A three-day suspension would be the usual disciplinary action, but I’m bypassing normal protocol. However, this behavior is unacceptable, and the next time something like this occurs, Belle, the consequences will be quick and serious.”
David stood there with that smug look on his face. I watched how he bit his lower lip almost to the point of drawing blood to avoid laughing. I took a calming breath in through my nose and out. The adage “He who laughs last laughs best” held little solace for me.
“Yes, sir,” I replied looking away from David and back to the lieutenant.
“David, Sergeant Rizolli, will be taking up his new position in a month. As that will leave you without a partner, he has recommended you go into the float pool and float to precincts where extra bodies are needed. Budget cuts prevent us from hiring another detective to replace him, so that leaves you without a partner. What do you think? Is this something you could work with?” the lieutenant asked, sitting back and tossing his glasses on his desk.
David raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to explode. He would be disappointed.
“Well, sir, that would be an excellent idea—” I started and watched David’s face reflect a bit of shock, “however, I have something that might preclude that becoming a necessity.”
I stood and pulled the paper from the
envelope, added a date to it, and handed the paper to the lieutenant.
I watched as he placed his glasses back on his nose and seemed to read it twice. He looked at me and handed it to David. David’s jaw tightened, and I thought I saw his hand tremble as he handed the paper back.
“Have you thought this through, Belle? I can hand this back to you and just pretend I didn’t read it,” the lieutenant said, placing it on his desk.
“Sir, I’m certain; I want you to accept it,” I said, knowing I’d done the right thing.
“Why? Why now?” he asked, his face creased with worry.
“Lieutenant, this place has been my life, and it’s been a good one. I’ve thrived working under your command, so I would never want you to think it has anything to do with you. Sometimes things happen that push you in a direction you never saw coming, and this is one of those times,” I said, and smiled at him.
“Do you have a plan in place?” he asked with concern.
“Sir, I always have a plan B,” I said.
I gave a month’s notice that I was leaving, and as David transitioned into his position, the two of us worked well to distribute all our remaining cases. Once David realized he held no power over me, things eased up a bit. However, anger seemed to simmer just below the surface, never quite extinguished.
Within the month, Lee had set up his new wood sculpting business as he transitioned from Jackson’s firm. The firm hired a new employee who was a bit of an odd choice. Dalia, the new employee, was an ex-assistant district attorney from the cybercrimes division. A feisty redhead with a sharp tongue and good sense of humor.
In a plea deal worked out between all the states where Jeremy Stamos had committed his crimes, he gave the district attorneys’ offices a confession in exchange for life in prison without parole. He admitted to having been obsessed with Fiona from the time she was a member of Fire and Ice. He described her as his possession, someone he owned and felt an obligation to take care of. She was, in his eyes, his responsibility. Yet when asked why he dressed like her and left clues implicating her in the crimes, his answer was strange. He wanted her arrested and held somewhere he could visit her. He couldn’t convince her not to leave the country, so he’d tried to prevent her from leaving.
The Last Lie She Told (Lies and Misdirection Book 1) Page 23