Zoe followed the twists and turns of the path, alone now, her two shadows having slipped away—one to remain at the entrance and the other to her right, stalking through the maze of slots. She wound through the card tables, trying to look less like an agent and more like a seasoned gambler seeking the right game, though she hardly knew how to make the difference. So long as she looked at the faces, it was all right. But when she let her gaze dip to the tables to keep up appearances, the numbers flooded in, almost to the point of distracting her from her mission.
A movement caught her eye up ahead, and her gaze was drawn to another roulette table, this one served by an attractive blonde croupier. The woman was scraping chips toward winners, scooping the losing bets toward her, announcing the next game. A number of people were gathered around her, four—no, five—all with their attention on the betting grid.
And there, in the middle of them, with the side of his face toward her—Jimmy Sikes.
Zoe reached for her radio, lifting it to her face, but he was sharing a joke with another gambler and happened to look to the side and smile as Zoe moved toward him. He clocked the radio in her hand, her eyes fixed on him, and the laughter died in his throat. After a brief moment, perhaps half a second, he turned on his heel and pushed off at a dead run.
Zoe swore under her breath, pressing the call button. “Suspect identified. He is on foot, attempting escape from the card tables. Keep control of the exits.” She trusted her own men, and the casino’s own security staff, to handle that. So long as they were all in position, there was no chance he was getting away.
She dashed after him, seeing the cop out of the corner of her eye, moving out of the machines in her direction and beginning to speed up. Sikes was only a table ahead, but he had the advantage of the crowd, pushing through them and sending people scattering in surprise, resistant and forming new barriers when Zoe arrived a moment later.
He chanced a look behind him and saw how close she was, his eyes wide and wild. “Stop! FBI!” Zoe called out, giving him a chance to do the right thing.
They never did the right thing.
She was fumbling to unholster her gun while she ran, getting it into her hand, steadying it with the radio in the other. If he was armed, there was no telling what kind of move he might make. There was no way to know if he would resist them with violence.
“Stop and put your hands above your head!” she called out again, people scattering in front of her in response to her calls. Sikes zigged and zagged amongst the tables, looking over his shoulder with ragged gasps, panic written clear on his face.
He ran into a blackjack table, almost taking out the croupier as he body-slammed it, pushing with his arms until it flipped over and through the air, spending chips and cards flying. There was a crescendo so close in front of Zoe that she almost fell into it, and only the briefest pause before people were flooding forward, scrambling to pick up as many chips as they could hold, blocking her path.
“FBI! Get out of the way!” Zoe shouted desperately, but it had done the trick for Sikes. He was getting away, pulling out distance as she fought her way through the crowd. He had enough of an advantage now that she could see him getting away—and for good, if he managed to slip past their man at the door.
But he was running in a particular way, she could see now. He had been here for hours, most likely, making his way from station to station, playing different games, having a great time. He knew the layout of the room, at least better than she did. And there was a kind of method to his madness, a series of acute angles that jerked back and forth across the casino floor, ignoring the path entirely in favor of the fastest route toward the back of the room.
Zoe stopped moving and watched him. There was no sense in trying to shoot, not with this many civilians in the way. There was no way she could catch up with him now. But there were at least three other people in this casino who had a chance to stop him, and she could help with that.
She saw his path, traced like a line with a ruler in her mind’s eye, a zigzag which was anything but random. He struck out left and right and skirted every other table, finding the clearest path to the door, even if it didn’t seem to make sense to those who couldn’t see it. The lines continued clearly right the way to the back of the room, which Zoe could now see as they entered the farthest part of the casino. Laid out in front of her from left to right, Zoe saw the lines overlaid on her view of the room in a literal sense, pointing her in the right direction.
And she could see Shelley, making her way toward him.
“Shelley,” Zoe barked into the radio. “The end of the bar, to your left. Intercept him beside the third column.”
Zoe watched Shelley hear the message, her head snapping around toward the bar. She noticed the column and headed toward it at a run, even as Zoe herself started moving again, following with her feet as well as her eyes.
One last row of tables to clear—
Jimmy Sikes dashed to the side, away from the cop that was approaching him, and skewed toward the bar, his feet taking around the fourth column in a row of them and beyond.
“Stop!” Shelley’s voice, calling out, and then a crunching noise, like a body colliding with the floor.
Zoe’s view was blocked by the third column—she could not see Shelley or Jimmy—but he had not emerged, and neither had Shelley. Zoe rounded the corner, opening up her view, and breathed a deep gasp of air in relief to see Shelley snapping handcuffs onto Jimmy’s wrists with trained precision.
She arrived, a little out of breath and feeling the effects of the adrenaline that had flooded her system during the chase, as Shelley finished reading Jimmy his rights. The other cops converged upon them, taking Jimmy by the shoulders to march him back to the parking lot. Zoe breathed again, exchanging a grin and a secret fist-bump of success with Shelley.
“We got him, Z,” Shelley said, laughing.
And Zoe wondered why she didn’t quite feel so confident as she had a short while ago that they really did have their man.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Zoe slouched into a chair in the sheriff’s office, her full attention on the screen of his computer. He had swiveled it around on his desk so that she could watch the video feed as, next door, Shelley sat down with Jimmy Sikes.
“It’s probably not what you’re used to,” the sheriff said, by way of both gruff apology and defense of his precinct. “We don’t quite have the budget that you all do up at the Bureau. No two-way mirrors and high-tech surveillance here. We don’t have the space.”
“That is fine,” Zoe told him, nodding toward the screen. “I can see everything here.”
“You sure she’s fine in there on her own? I only mean, I gathered you were the senior agent.”
“Special Agent Rose will handle it just fine,” Zoe said, smiling. It was not for his reassurance or encouragement, but simply because she found his doubt amusing. “She has a reputation for interrogation. Just watch.”
The man settled back into his own desk chair, the old leather creaking with his weight as they both watched in silence.
Shelley was already on the screen, sitting opposite Jimmy Sikes, whose handcuffs were threaded through a bar on the table to keep him in check. He had been watching her, chewing on one of his rough, dirty fingernails, for a good five minutes as she read through her files without saying a word. She calmly flicked through page after page, never so much as looking up to acknowledge him.
Zoe worried; not about Shelley, but about Sikes. He was heavier than she had wanted. The crime scenes had, she felt, indicated a lighter man. Sikes had put some weight on since his details were last updated. Not only that but the way he chewed on his nails was—wrong, somehow. At odds with the careful fastidiousness told by the marks the killer never left behind.
Sikes was growing more fidgety, shifting his weight from side to side, spitting a chewed-up fingernail out on the floor. Shelley’s technique was working, putting him off guard. He would have expected a fired-up shouting matc
h, a grizzled old cop trying to intimidate him. The silence was not what he was used to—nor was the light and easy smile that Shelley flashed him from time to time as she continued reading.
Shelley finished looking through her files and glanced up, settling into a more comfortable and open posture. “Mr. Sikes,” she said warmly. “Jimmy, if I may.”
He stared at her, saying nothing, eyeing her out of one side of his head like a cornered dog.
“You’ve got quite the record, haven’t you?” It was said with a smile, as if encouraging him to brag about his exploits rather than judging him.
“Served my time.”
“What was that, Jimmy?”
“I said, I served my time. I’m out. You can’t punish me for those no more.”
“Well, we can, actually, Jimmy. Because you were released on probation, weren’t you?” Shelley made a show of consulting her records, though Zoe knew she had already memorized them. “For aggravated assault, it says here. A violent crime.”
Jimmy said nothing into the silence she left between them, only turning to spit another of his fingernails onto the floor. It hit the ground with a thud that was only audible to Zoe. The thud of truth. Their killer would never do that. Never leave DNA evidence behind.
“And because you were on probation, Jimmy, you weren’t supposed to leave the state. Were you? And yet we have records that show you and your car moving all the way from your sister’s home—Manda’s home—down through Missouri and over here to Kansas. That’s quite a journey, isn’t it?”
Jimmy shifted, his eyes hitting the surface of the table between them. He was thinking something over, his gaze distant and unfocused. Zoe shook her head tightly. This was all wrong. Their killer was smart, calm, careful. He would have spoken, had some kind of cover already prepared. He would never have allowed Shelley to railroad him like this.
“You also failed to check in with your probation officer, and all in all, that means you’re looking at going back inside for a violation. What a real shame. I’d like to see you rehabilitated, rather than facing more time behind bars.” Shelley made a show of checking all the details in the file, then closed it and set it to one side. “Of course, I might be able to help you out there. Because that’s not why we arrested you, is it?”
Jimmy’s head swiveled up, his eyes squinting. “… Ain’t it?”
Shelley smiled at him like they were best friends. “No, Jimmy. We arrested you because of the murders you committed this week.”
Jimmy Sikes nearly fell out of his chair. “What? I never!”
Shelley tutted and shook her head. “Now, now. Don’t lie to me, Jimmy. Not to me. I’m your best shot at getting a good deal with the judge, you know? I can help you figure something out—but only if you tell me the truth.”
“I ain’t killed nobody!” Jimmy shouted, shaking his head wildly. “I don’t know what you think you got me on, but I just been having some fun. That’s all. No killings.”
And Zoe believed him completely. This was all a waste of time. Jimmy Sikes wasn’t their man, and never had been. That was written in every slumped and careless angle of his body, the screwed-up lack of intelligence spread across his face, his word choices, his actions. Even the weight of his body.
She waited. Shelley would clear this up. They needed to be by the book, after all. If they weren’t, people would wonder why Zoe had not followed up every lead available to her.
Shelley folded her arms on the table top, retaining her smile. “Well, Jimmy, why don’t you tell me about the last few days, then? In your own words. Then we can sort out this silly misunderstanding.”
Jimmy gasped for air, then shook his head just as wildly again. “I know what you cops are up to. No way. No. I ain’t telling you a thing. You’re gonna pin this on me, make me look stupid. I know cops.”
Shelley sighed, resting her head on one hand. “I’m not a cop, Jimmy. I’m FBI. And all of this is being recorded. I’m not trying to trick you. I promise.”
“I been here before.” Jimmy shook his head. “No. Nope. I know this. You gonna try to pin it on me like that psycho ex of mine and her buddy the cop. I ain’t speaking to you.”
Shelley regarded him quietly, letting him cool down. “If you’ve got nothing to hide, you may as well tell me, Jimmy. If you have alibis, we can go check them out. See if you’re on the cameras. There’s always cameras. Even in here.”
Jimmy looked up, frantically searching in the area that Shelley had pointed, until his eyes locked onto the lens. He stared right into it. Zoe shivered a little, feeling like their eyes were meeting even though of course he couldn’t see her through it, the way that she could see him.
“So, you see, Jimmy, no one can make out like you said something you didn’t say. It’s all being recorded. And if I tried to trick you, I would lose my job.”
Jimmy looked back at Shelley, sweating. “You’re not gonna frame me?”
“You tell me what happened, and I’ll tell you if you can go,” Shelley said, layering meaning on the last words to make sure he got the point. “That’s the only way you’re getting out of here. And trust me, I don’t want an innocent man sitting in here any more than you do.”
Jimmy leaned back against his seat, his chain clinking and almost pulling him back when he tried to pull his arms too far. He sucked in a deep breath, then looked up at Shelley. “I was in the casino in Potawatomi. I hit a heater, you know? Got sat down opposite this green kid and took him for everything he brought with him, and his friend some besides.”
“And when was this?”
“I guess like… four. Five days ago? Maybe four. I don’t know exactly.”
“You went to the casino from Manda’s house?”
“Yeah.”
Shelley checked the notes she’d written down from her call with Manda. “That was six days ago, Jimmy.”
“Well, shit,” he said, and laughed.
“So, you get this big win, right? A lot of money?” Shelley shifted her weight forward, giving him all of her attention.
“More’n I ever had.” Jimmy nodded. “So I go out to the bar, and then I think, nah, I shouldn’t be staying around here. The kid and his pals, the bouncers, maybe they got a thing against an ex-con winning big.”
“So where did you go?”
“Got in my car and drove to the next bar. Just off the highway. Stayed there ’til closing time, then I slept a few hours in my back seat and drove to the next bar.”
Shelley had been lifting her notes, checking through them, lining up his sightings with his story, but at this she paused and laid them down. “Are you telling me, Jimmy, that you’ve been drinking for the last five days straight?”
Jimmy shrugged. “Spent some of it at a couple of casinos, too. I got superstitious. Any time I had a good win, I moved on.”
Shelley clicked the top of her pen, drawing out the nib. “I’m going to need you to give me the names and locations of these casinos and bars, Jimmy. You’re doing great. We’ll have you out of here in no time.”
Zoe was already entering the name of the first bar into her phone, bringing up a search for the location—and the phone number. She walked out of the room and started to dial, watching from a window in the closed door as Shelley finished making notes and got up to leave the room.
“Hello? Yes, I would like to speak to your manager. My name is Special Agent Zoe Prime with the FBI,” she said into the phone, catching Shelley’s eye as she entered the corridor. “I am calling to request that you send over your surveillance footage from a few nights ago to help us in an investigation.”
Between Shelley, Zoe, the sheriff, and his team, they tracked down all of the locations Jimmy said he had been. Though his times were a little off—no doubt distorted by the alcohol and the way time seemed to move differently inside casinos—several hours of trawling through emailed footage slowly ticked off his alibis.
He was visible in security camera reels during the estimated times of all of the murders
.
Every single one.
Shelley slammed her notebook onto the desk in frustration. “We have to let him go. He’s not the guy,” she said.
“We’ll still hand him over for the probation violation,” the sheriff reminded her. “I’ll go make some calls. They’ll want to transfer him back to his home county.”
He left Shelley and Zoe alone in their investigation room, the others having each filed out after checking their respective tapes. They were the only ones left, facing down once again the same position they had been in before tracking down Jimmy Sikes.
“We’ll get him,” Shelley said, wearily. “We will. This is just a little setback.”
Zoe nodded. “I know we will. I wanted it to be before he took another victim. We have wasted precious hours with Sikes.”
“How did you know where he was going to be?”
Zoe lifted her head at the abrupt question, ducking her eyes immediately when she saw that Shelley was watching her closely. “What do you mean?”
“You and I had the same data,” Shelley said. “You knew as much as I did. But you managed to track him down to the casino, even though there was no way you could have known he would definitely be there. Then, when he tried to run—you knew where he would go. You directed me to the exact position where I could stop him.”
Zoe said nothing. Technically, there had been no question. She could continue looking at the files in front of her in silence, her eyes roaming over words and pictures without seeing a thing.
“How did you know?” Shelley repeated.
Zoe felt something in her throat, a lump that threatened to swallow the easy, rehearsed words. Maybe she could admit it. Maybe Shelley would understand. She had been fairly understanding so far, and kind, and nice. Maybe this was the person that Zoe could confide in.
But the number of people in the world who knew about her synesthesia, the numbers and patterns that flew in front of her eyes wherever she looked, could be counted without needing all the fingers of one hand. And a secret that had been so closely guarded—the ability since childhood, and the diagnosis since she received it as a young adult—could not be so easily given away.
Zoe Prime Mystery 01-Face of Death Page 10