The blond-haired deputy glanced at the badge for a second if that and nodded his acceptance at what he saw. “Grimes and my lieutenant gave me the heads-up that you’d be coming. I’m Deputy Stebbins.”
“This is my partner,” Vincent said, “Lindsay Brandt.”
“A pleasure,” Stebbins said.
Handshakes were exchanged.
“The techs are still doing a sweep,” Stebbins said, “but they know you’re coming, so I think you’re safe to walk through the house.”
“They find anything new?” Brandt asked.
Stebbins laughed. “They don’t tell me anything, ma’am. I’m just the day guy.”
“Said your name is Stebbins?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Brandt gave the kid a light slap on the arm. “I’ll give a glowing review of you in my report.”
Stebbins looked happy with that. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said.
“Detective Brandt will do.”
She and Vincent entered the house.
Vincent leaned into her ear. “You’re a lot more friendly than usual,” he whispered.
“I have good days and bad days,” she said, slipping on a pair of latex gloves as they stood in the foyer. “Today’s a good day.”
Vincent slipped on a pair of gloves as well. “I don’t buy it. Something’s making you more chipper than you usually are.”
“Let it go, detective.”
Vincent slapped the latex on his wrist. “Copy that.”
A forensic tech approached them from the kitchen area—tall with brown eyes wearing protective coveralls. He pulled his eyewear overhead before he spoke. “You Vincent?” He looked serious and focused.
Vincent replied by showing his badge.
“You’re clear to walk through,” the tech said. “We’re all wrapped up here.”
“Find anything of value?” Brandt asked.
He shook his head. “Not a thing. We’ve done all the sweeps we can. DNA samples are being processed as we speak.”
“How fast is your turnaround?” Vincent asked.
He answered quickly, “Four weeks. Five, usually.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
“My pleasure. Let me know if you need anything.”
Brandt turned to Vincent. “Well, hotshot, where do we start? Run me through what you’ve pieced together.”
Vincent pointed to the stairway past the kitchen. “Follow me.”
They worked their way up the stairs, Brandt taking note of the dried bloodstains as Vincent led her up to the second door on the right—Kelly Moretti’s room.
“This is where it started,” Vincent said. He opened the door and led Brandt inside.
“The girl’s room,” Brandt said.
“Kelly Moretti was listening to music on her headphones,” Vincent said. “The music was still playing when the security guards arrived, and she was oblivious at the time of the murders. She didn’t hear a thing.”
Brandt moved over to Kelly’s desk and examined the computer and the keyboard. “What was the first thing she heard?”
“She heard her mother screaming. She stood up, she rushed downstairs and found her mother being stabbed multiple times by an assailant dressed in black.”
Vincent motioned for Brandt to follow and led her back down the stairway, tracing the path Kelly had taken during the night of the murders. “She came down here,” Vincent said, walking the staircase step by step, “and saw her mother from right here.”
He came to a stop on the fourth step from the bottom, pointing at the area in the kitchen where Monica Moretti had once lain on the floor—hollering, screaming, and covered in blood.
“Monica Moretti tells her daughter to run,” Vincent said, “the assailant pursues Kelly, follows her up the stairs…” Vincent once again ascended the staircase and arrived at the top. “And this is where Kelly ran into her brother.” Vincent pointed to the bathroom on his left. “Right after he ran out from there.”
“Kelly tells her brother, Eric, to follow her,” Brandt said, recalling Vincent’s notes. “But he runs instead.”
“And then,” Vincent said, moving into Kelly’s bedroom, “she retreats in here, the suspect pounds on the door, and Eric Moretti comes to his sister’s aid.”
“And then,” Brandt said, “our suspect stabs Eric and drags him into the bathroom.”
Brandt noted the blood trail on her left leading into the bathroom.
“Again, Kelly Moretti said she only saw one suspect,” Vincent said, “but I’m pretty sure there were two. I’m only going off a hunch right now, but I’m pretty sure the physical evidence will prove my theory.”
“Okay, so your theory is there were two attackers when Kelly’s account of things was that she witnessed only one and she only heard one of them leave. She said she waited until he went downstairs before she fled. Correct?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Rather odd, no?”
“Because he didn’t finish her off?”
“She was a witness,” Brandt said. “If this suspect, or suspects, were being thorough, they could have theoretically knocked down the door and taken her out if they tried hard enough.”
“Don’t think they were in a rush? They couldn’t have turned their focus onto the ransacking element?”
“Possibly. But if there really are two suspects then one could’ve done the robbery, and the other one murdered the mother.”
Vincent snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Which is just another reason, among the many others, why this case doesn’t make any sense.”
“Many?” Brandt asked. “What am I missing?”
“Well, not many others,” Vincent corrected himself. “But one particular reason stands out among the others, making this case a lot harder to solve than it should be.”
“And what is that?”
Vincent motioned for Brandt to follow him. They worked their way downstairs and arrived at the garage door. Vincent opened the door, turned the light on in the garage, and pointed to the garage door—closed and undisturbed.
“This is where our suspects entered,” he said, “according to Kelly Moretti.”
Brandt stepped inside and examined the door. “Undisturbed,” she said. “No damage. There were no other entry points?”
“Zilch. Our guys had to come in through the garage, which means one of two things: they hacked the door, or they had a remote to get in.”
Brandt looked at Vincent. “You’re thinking someone gave them the remote to get inside.”
Vincent relished Brandt’s skepticism. “I do, Detective Brandt. I’m almost sure of it.”
7
“You think it was an inside job,” Brandt stated as she and Vincent waited for Chief Detective Grimes inside of her office at Clarendon Hills Sherriff’s Department.
“Can’t say for sure,” Vincent said. “All I know from what I’ve seen is that somehow, someway, whatever person or persons that broke into the Moretti household did so because they went through the garage. The garage is relatively untouched; therefore, they were able to gain access by hacking their way in or by the easy way, using a remote.”
Brandt squinted. “How would one ‘hack’ a garage?”
Vincent grinned. “I don’t know. I’m not a tech genius. But I’m sure it’s possible.”
“But you don’t think it’s that technical of an answer, right?”
“Correct. I think it’s likely the assailants gained access with a remote, but that’s not definitive.”
“And you think it might be because someone inside that house supplied it?”
“Not necessarily. These guys could be clever. There could be some extremely simple method they utilized to get inside that garage that we just don’t know about yet. We just need to be patient.”
Grimes entered the office. “My apologies for keeping you. I just spoke with Tony Moretti. He’s going to bring his daughter down within the hour. They have a lawyer with them strictly out of
caution.”
“How are they sounding?” Vincent asked.
“Decent,” Grimes said. “But only time will tell.” She extended a hand to Brandt. “Chief Detective Grimes.”
“Detective Lindsay Brandt.”
“So,” Grimes said, moving to the chair, “what do you have for me? I’m supposed to speak to the media in less than twenty minutes, and I’d like something to give them without hindering the investigation.”
“All you can give them are the facts,” Vincent said. “We don’t have anything we’ve learned that we want to put out in the open right now.”
“Such as?”
“The killers entered the garage. Clean. We need to interview the neighbors and see if they saw anything, but our suspects came in through the garage, either with a remote or some method of hacking.”
“Killers,” Grimes said. “Plural.”
“Forensic evidence needs to clear first,” Vincent said, “but I’ve got a pretty solid hunch that it’s going to point in that direction.”
Grimes was amused. “I was told about your knack for hunches, detective.”
Vincent said, “Tends to lead me in the right direction.”
“Where is it leading you now?”
Vincent sat back. “Right now,” he said with a huff as he relaxed, “I need to pick the brains of Tony and Kelly Moretti before I make a definitive conclusion. Kelly was helpful with the details, but Tony happened to be out at the time of the murders. To me, everything is suspect until I can prove otherwise.”
Grimes took a moment to go over the paperwork in front of her. “My people came up with nothing in their sweep of the neighborhood,” she said. “No evidence, no tracks.”
“What about the neighbors?” Brandt asked. “Has anyone mentioned anything of interest?”
“There are a lot of wealthy people living in Clarendon Hills. They like to keep to themselves. They’re social creatures, yes, but on their own terms. What I’m trying to say is that between the soundproof walls, their generally reclusive nature, and the land between the houses in that neighborhood—no one saw squat. We might get lucky with some last-minute details of a vehicle description from someone, but only time will tell.”
Vincent squinted. “Security cameras?” he asked. “I know the Moretti’s didn’t have one, but, as you said, it’s a wealthy neighborhood. Maybe someone else had one.”
“No. Most people there rely on the security team they have guarding the community,” Grimes said. “They found it cheaper to hire rotating guards as opposed to having a front gate with a guard shack. We would’ve had a log of comings and goings if they had.”
“I’ll need to talk to Kelly Moretti and Tony Moretti again,” Vincent said. “Now that the shock has subsided a bit their recollection of what happened could be clearer. There might be some details that they forgot that might be crucial to the case.”
“By all means,” Grimes said.
“And feel free to pull me off this whenever you want. I’m just helping out. I don’t want to hijack the investigation.”
“Believe me when I tell you that everyone is on board with having Edgar Vincent handle this one.”
“I’ll try not to let you down, chief.” And then he was gone.
Vincent and Brandt stood side by side in the interrogation room with Tony Moretti, his lawyer on his right—guiding his every step and every word.
“I just want you to run us through your night again,” Vincent said. “Every detail of it. I know it’s hard and there’s a lot to remember, but anything you may have missed the first time around may be a crucial detail.”
Tony nodded solemnly. He was pale. Exhausted. There were circles under his eyes, and his posture indicated that he could sit up straight for only so much longer.
“I went to a game,” he said. “Blackhawks. The United Center.”
“Right,” Vincent said. “You were entertaining clients.”
“Yes. We were about to close the deal on a property and I thought I’d sweeten the deal with a pair of tickets in the VIP Suite. End of the game, I check my phone, I see a bunch of missed calls from the police…and an hour later, I was home.”
“Traffic was bad that night.”
“Very bad.”
Vincent scribbled some notes. “And that was the last time you said you talked to your wife. Before the game started.”
“That was the last time. Yeah.”
Tears began to fall from Tony’s eyes; his lawyer comforting him before he finished the story. Vincent questioned him about access to the garage, finding—unless the physical evidence proved otherwise—that Tony seemed to be in the clear.
It was time, once again, to question Kelly.
“How are you holding up?” Brandt asked Kelly after introducing herself, taking the lead on the questioning this time.
Kelly sighed. “Okay, I guess.”
“I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. I can only imagine how terrible this must all feel.”
Kelly sat back in her chair near her lawyer and stuffed her fists inside the pockets of her hooded sweatshirt.
“What were you doing before listening to your music last night?” Brandt asked.
“Just hanging out,” Kelly said. “I tried to do some homework, but I got distracted. Like I said before.”
“I read that, yes. Can you tell me why you were distracted?”
Kelly thought about it. “What do you mean?”
Her lawyer perched forward and held up his hand. “What is this line of questioning about Detective?”
“Just trying to get a sense of timelines,” Vincent said. “Last night was very hectic. It’s near impossible for most victims to remember every detail of what happened when they’ve witnessed a crime. We’re just being thorough. That’s all.”
The lawyer sat back. “You can answer that,” he said to Kelly.
“I don’t understand, though,” Kelly replied, her gaze shifting from Brandt to her lawyer.
“Let me rephrase it,” Brandt said. “When I ask what was going on with you, in terms of you being distracted, I tend to think that someone usually means they were…thinking about something. Someone.”
“Like what?”
“School. Grades. Parents. A boy. Maybe a specific boy.”
Kelly tensed up. “A boy?”
“Was it a boy?”
Kelly grew even tenser. “I’m confused.”
“Do you have a boyfriend, Kelly?” Brandt asked. “Someone special, maybe?”
Kelly looked at her lawyer, who nodded his approval as Kelly opened her mouth and drew a breath. “Aiden,” she said.
“Is that your boyfriend’s name?” Brand asked.
“Yeah. Aiden Stonebrook. We’ve been dating for a couple months.”
“You didn’t mention him last night.”
Kelly took her time to answer. “I didn’t think it was important.”
“Did you ever let him into the house before?” Brandt asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, then it’s very important.”
Kelly’s eyes went wide as she sat up straight. “Aiden didn’t do this, if that’s what you’re saying! He didn’t!”
Brandt held up a hand. “It’s okay, Kelly. We’re just trying to get the full story.”
“He didn’t do it, though!” Kelly said, looking at her attorney. “I swear!”
“It’s all right, Kelly,” the attorney said calmly. “The detectives are just trying to understand what happened. No one is accusing Aiden of anything.” He looked at Brandt and Vincent. “Correct?”
Brandt nodded.
“Go ahead, Kelly,” the lawyer said. “You can answer their questions.”
Kelly calmed herself, spewing several defenses over the course of thirty seconds before she was able to slow down her breathing and sit back in her chair. “What do you want to know?” she asked with a tinge of attitude.
“Was Aiden with you at the house before this happened, by any chance
?” Brandt asked.
Kelly froze.
“Kelly?” Brandt said.
Kelly looked down.
“Kelly,” Brandt said again. “Is there something you want to tell us?”
Finally, Kelly said, “Aiden didn’t do anything.”
Vincent and Brandt exchanged looks.
The lawyer began to perspire.
“Kelly,” Vincent said, “was Aiden with you at the house? We need to know so we can eliminate him as a suspect.”
Kelly looked up. “Yeah,” she said, her voice tense and trembling. “He came over. My dad said he couldn’t come over on the weekdays, but he snuck by to say hi before I went to bed. That’s all. I swear!”
A fresh pool of tears welled up in Kelly eyes. A number of nagging questions came to Vincent.
“We need to talk to Aiden Stonebrook,” Vincent said to Brandt after the interview, the Moretti’s gone and back in their hotel room.
“We still need to question Kelly about the garage door remote,” Brandt said.
“Why didn’t you bring it up in the room? I thought you were going to.”
“I want to wait. I want to get her in a room again. This girl’s body language was all over the place during that interview. For now, I want her and her lawyer thinking her boyfriend isn’t a suspect.”
“Is he?” Vincent asked.
Brandt looked at him. “Of course. You’re thinking the same thing. Aren’t you?”
“Just wanted to hear you say it first.” He held up a finger. “Also, I talked to the people responsible for installing the garage door in the Moretti house about ten minutes ago. Only way that it could have opened was with a remote.”
“Which reaffirms our theory that someone was given one.”
“True. But I want to be thorough.”
“By going to the place where someone could have gotten a remote from.”
Vincent was impressed. “We’re starting to get in sync, Detective Brandt.”
“No complaints on my end,” she said. “At least for now.” She grabbed her jacket. “So where are we going? Where could our perps have gotten a remote from?”
Vincent fished in his pockets for his keys. “A place called Sentry Logistics,” he said. “A security company. Headquarters are about an hour away.”
Hollow Ground Page 3