by C. M. Sutter
Renz nodded. “That’s what we concluded and what would make the most sense.”
“His name?” Taft asked.
“Leonard Roche. I called the nearest shelter, and they have room for the wife, Mary. They said they’d send somebody out to talk to her.”
“Good. Sounds like those two murders were purely crimes of opportunity. Neither victim was targeted in particular. What about the rest of you? Any evidence that the murder victims were deliberately chosen?”
Everyone shrugged and said that after interviewing people who knew the victims, not one could think of anyone who’d had a problem with them.
Fay brought up a good point. “So we now know that two of the victims were killed around two a.m., and we’ll learn the approximate TOD on the other three as soon as Dave reports in with his rigor and temperature analysis. What if the person who died was completely irrelevant and it was more about the timing?”
I felt my eyebrows shoot up. “Well, knowing that Leonard and Jane Doe were killed at roughly the same time and the locations were ten minutes apart by car, then there has to be more than one person committing the murders.”
Kyle cocked his head. “Or they aren’t connected at all. Maybe slitting throats is the latest method killers are fond of. It could be a new trend among the depraved because it’s a quiet act.”
“That’s also a possibility, but at least we’re throwing out ideas,” Charlotte said. “If the time of death is what we’re supposed to notice, then it was absolutely a coordinated plan of attack. The killers”—she air quoted the plural word—“want us to know there’s more than one of them, and the only way to do that is by killing all five victims in a scattered area at the same time.”
Taft reached for the landline phone. “I need to ask Dave if he has TOD estimates yet, and they have to be as precise as possible.”
While Taft made the call, I started scratching out a list of questions to field to our team. We needed to know if there were hate groups who might be suspects. Were there people who hated the homeless or the space they took up in our cities? Could tourism be affected? Safety? Maybe even organizations who fought drug and alcohol abuse were angry. The sanitation department would have to be involved and possibly restaurant owners whose businesses could be failing because homeless camps took up sidewalk space right outside their eateries. Maybe that sidewalk space could have been used for outdoor dining. The list went on and on, and we had a lot of work ahead of us.
Maureen hung up minutes later and told us Dave’s initial findings. According to body temperatures and the amount of rigor setting in, he had put the TOD for the other three within the same parameters as the two Renz and I saw—between midnight and four a.m. That wasn’t good enough. We were sure about the time of our victims’ deaths, and we needed more, as in video evidence or witness statements at the other scenes in order to know if the time of death was the same for all five people. We had our work cut out for us, and we had to consider the citywide police jurisdictions and the county sheriff’s office too. I could see the number of officials involved causing the investigation to go sideways fast. It was something Maureen said she would address. She said she’d also try to get Dave to tighten the time frame once he had the victims in the autopsy room and under ideal conditions for examination.
I brought up the hate-group idea to check the temperature of the others, and they all thought it could be a possibility. By picking out one homeless person to kill from each camp, the message was coming across loud and clear—homeless camps weren’t wanted in the city, but finding the individuals or group responsible would be a challenge.
I addressed Maureen. “We do have a nationwide database of hate groups, don’t we?”
“We do, and that would be a good starting point.”
Over the next hour, we narrowed down the most likely group of people who would be affected by the homeless camps. We came up with restaurant owners and safety and sanitation committees as the people most likely to be hurt financially and physically by the homeless presence. There weren’t specific hate groups in those businesses, and getting angry at the possible lost revenue and unsightliness and then turning to murder was quite a jump, but people had killed for less. We needed to put feet on the ground and interview restaurant owners near camps and talk to authorities in the city’s safety and sanitation department.
I brought up my own thoughts before we were tasked with those assignments. “Wouldn’t our work be more productive at specific locations? I’d think police detectives would be able to speak with restaurant owners and sanitation departments. That way, each branch of law enforcement would have a particular task to follow through with and wouldn’t have overlapping duties or step on each other’s feet.”
Taft rubbed her forehead. “You’re probably right. I want all of you to return to the crime scenes you were at earlier. Look for store cameras, PODs, anything in a three-block area of the murder that might be of help. Talk to more people too. By the time you’re back, Dave will probably have a tighter time frame of when the victims died. If you’re able to review camera footage, look specifically for suspicious activity between one and three o’clock in the morning.”
Chapter 8
Renz turned right and pulled into a drive-through restaurant, ordered two grilled chicken sandwich meals with iced tea, and moved ahead.
“Must have been reading my mind,” I joked.
“Nope, I heard your stomach growl.”
“Guess it is way past lunchtime.”
“Yep, and I’m starving too. We might be out until after dark, so we may as well eat something while we’re stuck in the car anyway.”
“Damn, Renz. Who knew you had such a brilliant multitasking mind?”
He shot me the middle finger, lifted his hip, and pulled out his wallet. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Monroe.”
“Pray tell.”
He wagged his finger. “I’m saving that for the time we’re enjoying a beer or a glass of wine at a bar that isn’t connected to a hotel, remember?”
“Ah, that’s right.”
Renz paid for our meals, passed the bag and drinks to me, then pulled out of the lot. I unwrapped our sandwiches, handed one to him, then opened the console and placed his bag of fries and the iced tea inside.
“That’s what consoles are for?”
“Not exactly, but it works, doesn’t it?”
He bit into his sandwich, nodded, and continued on.
We arrived at the overpass a half hour later with a different task to work on. We were looking for buildings in the area that might have a camera facing the overpass. I assumed they would have to be commercial buildings or possibly parking structures.
“What’s your take on PODs? Does this area warrant them?” I asked.
“I’d say so, but that’s probably something the police department would check into.”
“Do we have a point person at the PD that we’re supposed to work with? The chief, a handful of detectives, or who?”
“That’s a tough one since the crime scenes are all in different police jurisdictions.”
“Then we need a liaison for each location. We should talk to Taft about that,” I said.
We parked in the same area we had been at earlier and climbed out of the car. Renz opened the back door and looked around. “Do we have binos in here?”
“They’re in the trunk along with the vests.”
Luckily, we found three sets of binoculars. We pulled out two, slung them around our necks, and walked to the area between the alley where our Jane Doe was killed and the spot where her tent had sat that morning. With the binos against our eyes, we looked in every direction for wall-mounted cameras on buildings. Renz walked closer to the freeway entrance, and I stayed put. We were both doing slow spins when I heard somebody call my name. I turned and saw Ray walking toward me.
“You came back, Agent Jade. Why?”
I chuckled at the name. “We’re looking for cameras that might have c
aught the person who took the woman into the alley.”
“But it was really dark last night, and like I said before, I only saw shadows.”
“I know, but it’s something we need to do.”
“The cops are all gone, and so is the body. Otherwise, I would have told them.”
I frowned. “Told them what?”
“About the man who was milling around here an hour ago. He doesn’t live in the camp, and there’s nothing to do in this area, so why be here at all?”
“Hmm… was he passing through like this area was a shortcut to go somewhere else?”
“No. He stood pretty close to where you are now, looked back at the camp, and then turned down the alley.”
“The alley where the dead woman was? That alley?”
“Yes, Agent Jade. That alley.”
I squeezed his arm. “Did he see you watching him?”
“No, ma’am. I was standing behind an overpass pillar.”
“Come with me.” We walked to where Renz was standing. He had moved closer to the freeway and still had the binos up to his eyes. I cupped my hand to my mouth and yelled out due to the traffic noise. “Renz!”
He turned, pulled back at the sight of Ray, then walked toward us. “Ray, what’s going on?”
“Tell Agent Lorenzo what you told me.”
Ray repeated the information.
“Did you get a good look at the guy?”
Ray closed his eyes and nodded. “Good enough to recognize him if I saw him again.”
Renz gave us a thumbs-up then pointed at a building north of us. “It’s broad daylight now, and I just spotted a camera on top of that bank building.” He jerked his head. “Up for a coffee, Ray?”
“Coffee? I haven’t had coffee since—well, I don’t know how long it’s been.”
“Come on. It’s too noisy here, and it’s cold outside. I think that coffee shop I saw three blocks away will do just fine.”
“Are we going in a cop car?”
“It’s a dark sedan,” I said, “but it has a scanner and a police radio inside.”
Ray rubbed his hands together. “I’ve never been in a cop car before.”
Renz patted him on the back. “And that’s a good thing, Ray, but this is a special occasion.”
After Renz parked in front of the coffee shop, I lifted my briefcase out of the back seat. Inside, I always kept notebooks with lined and unlined pages, pens, pencils, erasers, and a recorder. That was a habit I’d picked up after meeting Kate years back. She always had the items necessary to draw, take notes, and record other people’s accounts at length. Sometimes, she would pass the notebook to them and let them jot down their own memories. Later, when she was alone, she would decipher what it all meant.
At the coffee shop, we were shown to a booth and sat down. Renz ordered a carafe of coffee, three cups, and a double cheeseburger with fries for Ray. I smiled at his generosity, opened my briefcase, and pulled out a lined notebook and a pen. After our coffee arrived and the waitress walked away, I asked Ray for a description of the curious man.
I watched as Ray poured three packets of sugar into his coffee along with enough cream to turn the brew nearly white. “You set?”
He nodded. “I’m ready when you are, Agent Jade.”
I smiled. “Good deal. So how far away from the man were you?”
He rubbed his chin. “He moved around a lot.”
“Okay, then the closest you were at any point to him?”
He stared at the fluorescent ceiling lights. “Forty feet. Yeah, that sounds right, forty feet.”
“That isn’t bad, and from that distance, you probably got a decent look at him, right?”
Ray tapped his fingers on the table. “Yeah, yeah, but let me tell you quick before it fades away.”
“Go for it,” Renz said.
“He wasn’t old. Under twenty-five, I’d say.”
I gave Renz a glance. I wouldn’t have pictured somebody that young as a ruthless cold-blooded killer, but I’d been wrong before. I jotted that down as Ray continued.
“He had dirty-blond hair that was about an inch long all over his head.”
“Like a buzz cut?” Renz asked.
“Yeah, like that, but not as short, and he was taller than you.” Ray stared at Renz. “And he looked strong.
“He looked strong how? Wasn’t he wearing a coat?” I asked.
“Yep, but everything fit him just right. I could tell he worked out.”
“So not overweight, just physically fit?”
“Uh-huh, physically fit. That’s one reason I made sure he didn’t see me.”
“Did he look threatening, like somebody who was capable of intimidating or even punching you if you asked him why he was there?”
“Yep, so I kept my distance. He strutted in, walked to the place where you were standing just before, Agent Jade, looked at the camp, and then headed to the alley like he had a reason to go in there.”
“Maybe he was just cutting through,” Renz said.
“Nope, because he came back out the same way he went in.”
The waitress brought over Ray’s plate and set it in front of him. His eyes widened, and that missing-tooth grin lit up his face again. He pulled at my heartstrings, and I remembered my dad telling me years back that I was too much of a softie and people would take advantage of me. Since that day, I’d been cautious and only showed my soft side to people I trusted and the ones who deserved to see it.
“Let’s take a break and let Ray enjoy his meal.” I topped off all our cups with piping-hot coffee and asked for more sugar packs for Ray.
Chapter 9
I knew we couldn’t spend too much time with Ray. That bank camera could very well have caught the image of the person Ray described, and although we had no idea if that man was at all involved in the murder or just happened to pass by, that particular area didn’t have any stores or places of interest to be heading to. The timing, if nothing else, was still odd enough for us to question why he was there.
Ray finished his meal and thanked Renz, then we continued the questioning.
“What was the young man wearing, Ray?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t know exactly what they’re called—stretch pants, maybe? You know, those pants that guys wear these days, the ones that are skintight all the way to the ankles.” He shook his head. “Way too pansy ass for my liking. What happened to men looking like men? Did you know that some guys even wear makeup? I mean, what the hell?”
I smiled and continued on. “What color were the pants? And then what was his shirt like if you could see it under the jacket.”
Ray waved away my question. “His pants were army green, and I couldn’t see his shirt. He wore a black jeans jacket and black leather combat boots.”
“Really?”
Ray nodded. “I may get high on occasion, but my memory is like a steel trap.”
“Good to know,” Renz said. “Were you close enough to make out any facial features?”
“Nah, like I said, that kid could have wiped the floor with me. I wasn’t about to press my luck.”
I looked at Renz. “I think we should head back to the camp, drop off Ray, then check out that bank camera and look for a few others. Maybe we’ll get lucky and see him on footage somewhere in the area.” I turned to Ray. “You still have my card, right?”
“Yes, ma’am, and if I see him again, I’ll call you.”
“Good. One last question. Did you see which way he went, and did he get into a car?”
“He walked south and then turned right at the next block. That’s where I lost sight of him.”
Back at the underpass, we thanked Ray, and I watched as he returned to his tent. He looked back, grinned, and waved as we pulled away.
“Fond of the guy, aren’t you?” Renz asked.
“Like you aren’t?”
“It does feel good to be a decent person now and then.”
I laughed. “You’re always a decent person
, Agent DeLeon. Now let’s locate that kid, haul him in for questioning, and find out who he is and why he was there.”
Renz drove a block south, a block west, then straight north to get beyond the freeway and onto Hemmer Street, where the bank was located. He lowered his head and peered out my side of the windshield. “I think that’s the building right there. It was white concrete with black-framed windows.”
“And it is a bank with storefronts alongside it. Let’s go ask some questions.”
“Hang on. I think we should call Taft first and tell her we aren’t going to make it out to the second location because we’re following up on a viable lead here. She can assign someone else to check for cameras in that area.”
“Okay, good idea.” I absentmindedly stared out the windshield while Renz made the call. Seconds later, as I looked up and down the street at nothing in particular, my body stiffened when I realized the guy Ray had described was standing on the street corner a half block away. I grabbed the door handle, cursed, and leapt out. “He’s right there, Renz! Come on!”
Renz ended the call and waved me on as he jumped out of the car, fished change out of his pocket, and fed the meter. He caught up to me and looked around. “Where is he?”
I remained a half block back as I tried to blend in with people on the sidewalk. “He just crossed the street ahead of us. I’ve got my eyes on him, but what are we supposed to do now, and what has he been up to for the last hour and a half?”
“Good question. Let’s follow him for another few minutes while I think of a good reason to approach him. We don’t need him running.”
“How about I get ahead of him and then walk toward him while you squeeze him in from behind. We have every right to question a person who was at the scene of a murder for no good reason.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Okay, cross the street, pick up your pace, and get a block ahead of him. Cross over to our side at the next set of lights.”
“On it.” I checked for cars before bolting across the street and speed walking ahead. I passed the guy within a few minutes and continued on, and occasionally, I would casually stop and glance back to see if Renz was still in my view. He was.
