"Toe graph?" I wrinkled my nose. "That doesn't make any sense."
"She moved her hand just a little bit and made this kind of motion." Ashleigh held up her hand in a C shape and squeezed her forefinger down. "Then she said 'fur'."
"Toe. Graph. Fur," I repeated, thinking hard. "Toe. Graph. Fur. Oh, Ashleigh! It's simple. Say it fast. Toe-graph-fur. Photographer. The hand motion she made is like what we do when we mime using a camera. A boxy shape and a click with the finger."
Ashleigh palmed her forehead. "Of course it is. Someone was photographing her. She said a name too. Carla Santi. I checked the database and no one by that name is listed as missing. I searched online but I didn't get any hits."
I knew that name but it wasn't as Ashleigh pronounced it. "Not Carla Santi, but Carlos Santiago," I said. "I've seen that name before. He's a famous photographer. That must be why Sammy mimed taking a photo. He was at the party I went to at the weekend! Do you think he's the one who did this?"
She tapped her phone screen, then held it to her ear. "He's got something to do with it. I want an address for a Carlos Santiago yesterday and I want a BOLO put out on him. He's to be approached with extreme caution," she added before hanging up. "Shayne, I think you've cracked it!"
"You would have put it together," I replied as I tapped my phone, bringing up Instagram and searching for Carlos Santiago. "He's got a photo feed with thousands of images. That must be how he meets these girls. On shoots, or maybe he scouts them. He's probably well connected to people they know, and in and out of their agents’ offices regularly. This is him with Jessica Suarez at a party so that's his connection to Sirens Talent Agency! It's all too easy for him. He's a big industry name. They trust him. They want to work for him. They feel safe going to a shoot with him especially if he sweetens it by saying it's free or for a big campaign or something they wouldn't, couldn't, turn down."
"Why wouldn't they question such a sweet deal? If it's too good to be true…" Ashleigh trailed off with a sigh.
"Because he could make their careers, something they want so much." I blew out a frustrated breath. "I looked at this case backwards. I researched the girls and the people they knew. I didn't think of the people they admired or wanted to work with. I knew I had to broaden my criteria to find a commonality but I didn't check the social media of well-established people for signs of the girls. I'm sure if we do that now, we'll find more evidence."
"Unless he meticulously stripped any sign of them from his life. He wouldn't want anything tying himself to them," said Ashleigh.
"There will be something. I'm sure of it. I wonder if he had any contact with Daisy? I vaguely recall her saying he photographed her once. Maybe that's where the obsession started." I stopped scrolling and gasped. Ashleigh moved closer and I tapped the screen. "This is Daisy. She did a shoot with him a couple of years ago."
"Don't tell her that. She'll feel horrible that a creep's obsession with her might mean he killed other women as proxies."
"Good point, but I should tell her she's safe from him."
"We still don't know if the cases are connected but it'll be a good idea to check in on her anyway."
I did just that, reaching her voicemail again. "That's the second time she hasn't answered," I said. I'm going to call her assistant." I dialed the number Daisy gave me and a chirpy voice answered. I introduced myself and asked for Daisy.
"I'm sorry, she went home already. Her building manager needed to see her about something and she had a headache and I called her driver to take her there. I can't believe someone broke into her place!" said the assistant.
"When did she leave?" I asked.
"Maybe an hour ago?"
"I tried calling her and she didn't pick up."
"Her cellphone probably went straight into driving mode or maybe she's taking a nap," suggested the assistant. "Do you want me to give her a message?"
I declined and thanked her; then I called the hotel and asked to be put through to Daisy's room. They wouldn't confirm she was a guest until I gave my name and then, like it was the magic word, I was transferred. The phone rang and rang until the receptionist answered. "Has Ms. Casta arrived yet?" I asked.
"No, she hasn't returned yet. Shall I take a message?"
"No, it's okay. I'll try her cellphone again."
I shook my head at Ashleigh who was waiting patiently. "I might swing by her apartment," I decided. "It's not far out of my way. Will you call me with any updates on Sammy's condition and the whereabouts of Carlos Santiago?"
"I will. I have my people checking a traffic camera near where Sammy was found. It was only installed by the county a few days ago so there's a good chance Sammy's attacker didn't know it was there. I'm confident we'll match a vehicle on the road prior to her discovery to the name she gave us. And Shayne, I haven't said it, but thanks for all your help with this one. I know I haven't been your biggest believer but you have good instincts and I admired you following your gut. You knew there had to be someone connecting these women and you didn't stop searching for the link even when I was sure I had the right guy."
"Thanks, but it was Sammy who provided the real answer."
"And you'll be the one to tell her story, not Ben," she said. After hugging Ashleigh, I left the hospital, feeling warmer than I had for a while. I knew the odds of Sammy pulling through were low but I had to admire her fight for life and struggle to give Ashleigh the vital clues she needed. Once Ashleigh found a vehicle to corroborate Sammy's brief statement, she would have him.
I drove over to Daisy's feeling lighter and happy. So, I didn't solve the case but soon a very evil man would be off the streets. If he were behind the break-in at Daisy's apartment, it would be safe for her to return. If not, I was sure her beefed-up security would provide some relief.
When I got to her building, the first thing I noticed was the absence of her doorman from his post. Not a good sign. I would have to tell her to pick that up with the management company. I waited a few minutes by the desk but when he didn't show up, I took the elevator up to Daisy's floor. Stepping out, a chill ran down my spine. I wasn't cold but for some reason, my senses were alerted. I pulled out my phone, ready to hit the emergency call button.
"Daisy?" I yelled out in the hallway. There wasn't any answer. "Daisy?" I called again as I approached her door. The door was shut but a smear of blood across the handle made my heart thump loudly. I covered my hand with my cuff, ensuring I didn't contaminate any evidence and gingerly opened the door, terrified at what I might find.
In the lobby was Tomas, slumped against the wall, bleeding from a bullet hole in his chest.
"Daisy!" I screamed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I sat in the lobby while the EMTs rushed past me. Tomas was on a gurney with a breathing mask over his face. I already asked twice if he would be okay and no one knew the answer.
Since Daisy was already missing, I tried to stem the bodyguard's bleeding as best I could until help arrived but my effort wasn't good enough. Tomas lost a lot of blood and someone took Daisy but no one seemed to know anything. The officers that arrived first took over my medical efforts before I gave my short and not too helpful statement. Waiting around was useless. No one saw a thing and Daisy was nowhere to be found.
When a commotion started towards the exit at the rear of the lobby, I looked over. Two of the uniformed officers were talking and their voices drifted to my ears as they waved another set of EMTs through.
"…Between cars," said one of them, jogging after the EMTs. "…Knocked out cold but the head laceration doesn't look serious."
I got up and walked over, alarmed. "Is it Daisy?" I asked the remaining officer, panic lacing my voice. A head laceration sounded awful. Was she hurt? Did she fight off her attacker?
The cop shook his head. "The doorman. Someone bashed him on the head. We just discovered him when we checked the building's parking lot."
"Did he say anything? Did he see Daisy?"
"He's a little dis
oriented right now. We couldn't get much sense out of him."
I sidestepped in front of him to stop him moving away. I had to know what was going on. "Is Daisy's car there? What about the bodyguard's vehicle?"
"We're not sure which one belongs to the bodyguard but Ms. Costa's car is gone. You should sit down and wait for a detective to arrive," he instructed, pointing to the chair I just vacated.
"Thanks." Doubting I could get much more from him, I backed away and dialed Daisy's number in the hope that she got away in her car and was now somewhere safe. Perhaps she went to the police station? Or even to my apartment? When she didn't answer, I knew it was too much to ask for. How could she get away from someone who managed to overpower two men? Someone with a gun? She might look tough in the cop show in which she starred, but this reality was not all staged and artificial. So far as I knew, she had no experience in fighting off someone intent on hurting her.
A moment later, my phone rang. I grabbed it, answering on the first ring. "Daisy?"
"It's Ashleigh. I just heard Daisy's address on the radio. Are you there? What's going on?"
"I'm at her apartment. Something terrible happened."
Ashleigh sucked in a breath. "Is Daisy okay?" she asked fearfully.
"She's gone! Someone shot her bodyguard. He's on his way to the hospital now and they just found the doorman in the residents’ parking lot. He was knocked unconscious. Daisy's car is missing too."
"How could that happen?"
"He took her, Ashleigh. He dumped Sammy and came for Daisy. I just know it."
"We don't know that."
"We don't know that we don't know that," I countered, gulping back a tear at my failure to find the creep and stop him from hurting anyone else. I knew Ashleigh was on Carlos Santiago's trail and every cop in the city was probably looking for him but were we too late?
"Major Crimes will get involved in this if they haven't already been alerted. Finding Daisy is top priority. I'm going to ping her phone and put out a BOLO on her car. We'll find her, I promise."
"What if we don't?"
"We will, Shayne. We will. I'll call you again soon." Ashleigh disconnected and I simply held my phone, wondering what to do. Where could I go? An overwhelming sense of uselessness swept over me.
"Miss?" I looked up, realizing I didn't notice the police officer approach. "You can go now. We can give you a ride to the hospital to visit your friend if you need it."
"Okay," I said, then, "Thank you, but no. I have a car." When he walked away again, I realized I had no idea where to go. To the LA Chronicle? I couldn't type up celebrity gossip while Daisy was missing. I couldn't go home and sit idly waiting for Ashleigh to tell me they couldn't find her. I had to stay on top of it. I had to keep searching for information. I needed to see the photos from Hayden's studio. I would wait there if I had to until he came home.
Outside, the building was sealed off with crime tape and several onlookers were amassed, eager to see what was happening inside. Someone gasped and took my photo as I stepped out and only when I dodged under the cordon, walking to my car like a robot, did I realize why. My hands and jeans were smeared with blood. I took a tissue and blotted my hands but my jeans were ruined.
As I sat in the driver’s seat, I sent messages to Mike and Jenna. I didn't want them to hear about this on the news. I was sure the story would have already gotten picked up by the crime reporters who monitored the police band. Daisy Costa's kidnap was big news. I thought about calling Bob but it was one headline I didn't want to be responsible for even though I had firsthand knowledge of the scene. I knew one man who could give the story the diligence it deserved: Ben Kosina. Regardless of his feelings for me, or apparent lack of, he was a good journalist. I composed several long messages to him, telling him everything that happened. I asked him to mobilize his extensive network of contacts for anyone who might have seen something and hit send. Then I fired up the engine and drove on autopilot to Hayden's house. He was the only person I could think of who had firsthand knowledge of Carlos Santiago. I was sure he mentioned working with him. Could that be the same shoot where I thought I recognized two of the women in Hayden’s photos? It was all coming together now.
I parked on the street, relieved to see Hayden's car in the driveway but before I could get out, my phone rang.
"Any news?" I asked hurriedly.
"We found Daisy's car a few blocks away from her apartment," said Ashleigh.
"Was she?" I held my breath. Please don't tell me Daisy is dead.
"No. She wasn't in it. It was parked in an alley, unlocked, with the keys in the ignition. There weren't any signs of a struggle but her phone was wedged under the seat."
"There's no way of tracking her," I realized.
"Not by pinging her phone," Ashleigh confirmed, "but there are traffic cameras. I have my team looking through them now. The window of opportunity was small between taking her and dumping her car. They're either nearby or they transferred to another vehicle so we should find something soon. There's another thing…"
I hardly dared ask. "What?"
"When I ran a search on Carlos Santiago, I got an address."
"Great! Are you going there? Do you have someone staking out his house?"
"Kind of. He leased an apartment in Daisy's building a month ago. Martinez is on his way there."
"No!" I clasped a hand over my mouth, the horrifying reality of her stalker being in her building. "He was so close to her. That must be how he got to her!"
"We'll get him, Shayne. Hang in there."
My phone chimed with the arrival of several messages. Jenna and Mike both expressed alarm and wanted to know what they could do. Ben was more efficient: he had already verified what happened, had leads to follow, and would call soon.
Ignoring the state of my jeans, I walked over to Hayden's house and rang the doorbell but after waiting a few minutes and pressing it once more, there was no answer. Assuming he wouldn't mind me walking in unannounced, given the gravity of the circumstances, I took the side path, going around to the studio.
The garden area was quiet, the studio door closed. Again, I knocked. No answer. I dumped my bag at the door and moved around, peeking in the windows. What if Hayden returned his car to the house but went somewhere on foot? He could be having coffee with a neighbor or mailing a letter. He couldn't be far away, I decided, as I returned to the door and reached down to pick up my bag. As I did, I stumbled on a loose paving slab and knocked against the studio door. The handle depressed and slowly swung open. I grimaced and reached to pull it closed, making a note to remind Hayden of his poor security when I saw him later. However, since the door was already open, would it hurt to look through his photo albums now? It would save me some time when I could be following leads, or coming back later. I could text Hayden a message telling him not to rush his errands.
My mind made up that I wasn't doing anything wrong, I stepped inside and made my way over to the table with all the albums. I selected the pair I wanted and flicked through the first one, searching for the headshot of Anna Sanchez. I reached the end and couldn't find it. I flicked through the pages again, slower this time but still couldn't find it. Perhaps I was mistaken. My thoughts were full of the missing women when I glanced through the first time. Could I have made a mistake? It was probable. Several of the women had similar appearances with black or very dark brown hair and bronzed skin and most of the poses were similar.
I snapped the album shut and returned it to its place, then opened the second. I flicked through slowly so I wouldn't miss the photo I searched for. There were plenty of photos I recognized but not the one I sought. I scratched my head, frowning hard. I must have been really projecting when I looked through the albums before. At least now I wouldn't have to come back and embarrass myself in front of Hayden. It was a good idea to check again but unfortunately, a fruitless search. Plus, I realized as I looked down, I was streaked with blood. I must look terrible but how could I waste time cleaning up when
there was so much left to do?
When my phone rang, I jumped, my heart thumped and I frantically searched for it, realizing my nerves were fraught with worry. It wasn't Ashleigh with terrible news.
"Shayne, where are you?" asked Ben.
"I'm following a lead. I thought I might be able to verify someone connected to the other killings."
"You're sure they're connected?"
"Yes, that is, Ashleigh thinks so and it makes sense, but I can't prove it. I thought I could but I can't find the photos. Ashleigh thinks it might be a photographer named Carlos Santiago," I told him, not caring now about spilling the details. Daisy was more important than any headline.
"He hasn't taken Daisy."
"He must have! Our victim named him."
"Then she got it wrong! It is absolutely not him," Ben said decisively.
"How can you be so sure? Everything matches up. He even rents an apartment in the same building as Daisy! Oh my gosh, she mentioned him at brunch last week!" I bit back a gasp as the memory flooded my mind. Daisy said she and her new neighbor, Carlos, were flirting.
"Because I just saw a photo of him on board a yacht off the south of France. Apparently, some socialite jumped off the top deck and broke her leg. It caused a bit of a splash, if you'll excuse the pun."
I couldn't even laugh. "You're sure?"
"One hundred percent. It's dated this morning. There's no way he could dump a body or fly back so fast that he could kidnap Daisy."
"The body? Sammy was alive. Have you heard something? Is she… Did she…" I stuttered.
"I just spoke to Ashleigh and Sammy is still in surgery. There's still room for hope."
"She might be Daisy's only hope," I sighed. "How can we be chasing the wrong guy? It seemed so certain!"
"I wish you'd clued me in on this story. Ashleigh said you've been looking into it since way before April Beam was discovered. I had no idea. I could have helped you."
"Every time I think I'm close to unraveling it, something turns up to prove me wrong. It's so frustrating." I turned away from the photo albums and rested my butt against the table. My legs felt weak and I wondered if it was the shock.
Dead Ringers Page 23