by BIBA PEARCE
“These are photographs of your hidden room.” John slid them over the table to the suspect.
He glanced down, then sniffed.
“Can you explain why there’s a mattress there?”
“I sleep down there sometimes,” he said with a shrug. “It’s cooler than the rest of the house.”
“You sleep on this soiled mattress?”
“Sometimes.”
“And what are these?” Jonny pointed to the constraints chained to the concrete floor.
“I have particular tastes,” he said, almost nonchalantly. “Sometimes I like to play games.”
“Sex games?”
“Yes, detective.”
“And who do you play these games with?” he asked.
Reid narrowed his gaze. Haston’s lips turned up at the corners. The bastard was enjoying this.
“Definitely a psycho,” muttered Pérez beside him.
“No doubt about it,” agreed another officer.
“Occasionally I spend the night with like-minded women,” he said carefully. “Everything we do is consensual.”
Jonny lay three more photographs in front of him.
“Was it consensual with these women?”
Halston stared at the images for a long moment, then blinked as if coming out of a trance. “I don't know who these women are.”
“Sarah Randall. Miranda Hoberman. Mimi Silverton.”
Another blank stare.
“Ring any bells?” asked Jonny, unable to keep the disgust out of his voice.
“Sorry, no.”
“These women were all abducted, raped, and strangled in the last four months,” he said. Reid could hear the strain in his voice. Don’t fall apart now, Jonny.
It was hard conducting an interrogation when confronted with such evil. It tested even the strongest detective. Most of the time, Reid wanted to put a fist through their face, but he knew to restrain himself.
“What's that got to do with me?”
“We think you were responsible.” Jonny stared at him across the table.
Reid, Pérez, and the rest of the team stared at him on the screen.
Not a flicker. His gaze held steady. “I had nothing to do with these girls’ deaths,” he said slowly.
“Where were you on the night of March seventeenth?” asked Jonny.
“That was over four months ago.”
“It was a Friday night, if that helps,” Jonny said.
“I’m sorry. I can't remember that far back. I don’t go out much, except to the local bar, so I guess I could’ve been there.”
“What’s the bar’s name?”
“The Q Bar,” he said. “Don’t ask me what the Q stands for. I’ve never found that out.”
Pérez shook his head.
He didn’t seem at all concerned that he was facing multiple murder charges.
“What would you say if I told you that you were caught on camera in Ocean Drive that evening?”
“I’d say you’re probably right,” he replied. “Like I said, I can’t remember.”
“Do you frequent the bars and clubs on Ocean Drive often?” Jonny asked.
“Not really.”
“So it’s not your stalking ground?”
He laughed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Reid glanced at Halston’s lawyer, whose face was set in a stiff grimace.
“What about the night of May fourth? Just two months ago.”
He pretended to think. “You know, I can’t be sure.”
“Let me help you. You were once again prowling Ocean Drive.”
“Prowling is a strong word, Detective,” said his attorney. It was the first time he had spoken.
“What would you call it?” Jonny asked Halston who didn’t respond.
“What about the night Mimi Silverton went missing?” Jonny said. “That was less than two weeks ago. You must remember that.”
No answer.
“I’ll tell you. You were at the parking garage close to Ocean Drive. Do you see the pattern here?”
“What pattern?” He was scowling now, his eyebrows meeting in the middle.
“You were on Ocean Drive every time a girl disappeared. In fact, you were caught on the security camera outside the Ocean Club the night Sarah Randall went missing.”
“That’s all circumstantial, Detective,” the lawyer said.
Halston sat quietly, not saying a word.
“Quite a coincidence, though, isn’t it?”
Halston wasn’t talking. Jonny would struggle to break him. Perhaps that would change when confronted with the DNA evidence from the torture room.
Jonny hacked away for a while longer, then suspended the interrogation.
“I’m not giving up,” he said when he came out, wiping the perspiration off his forehead. “I’ll have another go at him later.”
They all took a breather. The air needed clearing like it was tainted by the suspect locked in the holding cell.
Later that afternoon, they got the call from forensics. “The lab found evidence of all three girls in the house,” Jonny shouted.
A round of clapping and whooping ensued.
“We’ve got the bastard.” Pérez thumped Jonny on the back.
“There’s more.”
Reid frowned. He’d been afraid of this. “How much more?”
“They found at least six other types of female DNA.”
Everybody stared at him.
“Holy shit,” muttered Pérez, breaking the silence that followed. “You mean there are six other missing girls out there that we don’t know about?”
Reid exhaled. “We do now.”
39
Kenzie met Reid at a coffee shop close to the Miami PD building. As promised, he gave her the information she needed for a follow up on the Swamp Strangler. Now that they’d linked him to the three victims, she could go ahead and publish his name.
“This has worked well,” she remarked over her latte. “This partnership of ours.”
He snorted. “I never thought I’d be friends with a reporter, let alone work with one after what happened before.”
“You consider me a friend?” She couldn’t help smiling.
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’ve stayed at your house. I made you my infamous spaghetti. I don't do that for just anyone.”
She laughed. “I guess we are friends then.” A warm feeling flowed over her. “Maybe we can even work together in the future.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“You never know, we might be useful to each other.”
“I suppose I could use a press contact.” He studied her in that semi-intense more-than-friends way. It made her stomach flutter.
“And I could—” She paused as the door opened and Ortega walked in. His gaze fell on their table. He frowned and strode over.
Uh-oh.
Kenzie forced a smile. “Hi Xavier.”
Ortega didn’t smile back. “I didn’t know you two were friendly?”
Reid’s jaw tensed.
“Yes, we met on the Natalia Cruz investigation. Her husband’s a friend of mine.”
“I see.” His dark gaze flickered from Kenzie to Reid and back again. “And now you’re meeting for coffee?”
“He’s giving me an exclusive.” She glanced at Reid. His knuckles had gone white around his coffee mug.
“I see.”
“How’s your case going?” she asked, desperate to lighten the mood. The animosity between Reid and Xavier was palpable. At any moment, Reid’s mug was going to shatter into a hundred pieces and the two of them would go for each other.
“What case? Our chief witness just got taken out by a bunch of gang bangers.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” No wonder he was in such a foul mood.
“Yeah, well.” he shrugged.
Kenzie tried to wrap it up. “Well, take care of yourself.”
He hesitated, then said, “You want to grab a drink sometime? We could catc
h up properly.” His gaze flickered to Reid, who hadn't moved a muscle.
Kenzie wasn’t sure what to say. Xavier was a friend, they’d gone through the academy together, and he was a useful source at the department, even if he did sometimes get it wrong. She couldn't afford to burn that bridge. Not even for Reid.
“Yeah, sure. Call me.”
He grinned and shot Reid a triumphant look. “I sure will. You take care, Kenz.”
Even the shortened form of her name was designed to wind up his colleague. What the hell did these two have against each other?
Xavier ordered a coffee to go and left, making an “I’ll call you” signal with his hand as he walked out the door.
The silence wrapped around them. She was almost too scared to look at Reid.
“That’s your source?” he said eventually, his voice a strangled whisper.
“Yeah. We were at the academy together. He was there when I had my accident.”
Reid’s eyes glowed with an inner fire. She’d never seen him look so furious. “Is he the one that told you Bianca was out?”
It took a moment for her to register what he was talking about. Then she got it.
Crap.
“Yes. He said she’d been pulled out, but I’m sure it was a misunderstanding. He couldn't have known—”
“He fucking did know,” Reid growled. “We all did. Ortega deliberately sabotaged that operation to get back at me.”
“Why?” she whispered. “Why would he do that?”
“Because he was in love with Bianca, too. They had a thing, before we—” He left it hanging. Kenzie got the picture.
“I didn’t know. Surely he wouldn’t have put her life on the line. Not if he had feelings for her.”
“He knew, Kenzie.” Reid got to his feet. “I told him myself.”
Kenzie felt the color drain from her face. “Shit, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
This feud between them obviously went way back.
“Enjoy your catch up,” his voice dripped with venom. “You can forget working with me again.”
With a sinking heart, she watched him stride out of the shop, leaving his full mug of coffee on the table in front of her.
What the hell?
Kenzie sat motionless, thinking about what had just happened. One moment they were laughing and joking, and the next Reid had stormed out in a rage.
Had Xavier really compromised the operation? Had he put Bianca’s life on the line? He could be impulsive, she knew that. Several times on the academy training course she had to reel him in. “Think, then act,” she’d told him over and over again. Eventually, he’d listened.
When she’d had her accident, he’d been the first person to visit her at the hospital.
“You gave us such a scare, Kenzie. Thank God you’re okay.”
He’d come back every day, bringing her flowers and chocolates. Her other colleagues had also come to visit, but not as much as Xavier.
“He’s got a crush on you,” a female friend had said.
But nothing had happened. She hadn’t allowed it to.
Xavier graduated and went into the force. She recovered, wallowing in self-pity until she couldn’t stand it anymore. Then she’d dragged her sorry ass out of bed and got a job as a junior reporter for the Herald.
The entertainment beat. That was her thing. It was considered frivolous, not real journalism. Still, she’d done it. She’d worked her way up and now she was an investigative reporter on the crime beat. Exactly where she wanted to be.
Well, not exactly. But as good as she was going to get.
She’d cut ties with most of her police trainee friends. It was too hard to see them join police forces all over the state while she was stuck going to movie premiers and chasing B-grade celebs. Xavier had stayed in touch, though. Every now and then they’d meet for a coffee. A friendly catch up.
When she’d been promoted, she’d asked if he’d be a source. Nothing illegal. Just to feed her bits of information from time to time. A favor to a friend. In return, she’d write appeals for information, or spin an article a certain way to draw out a culprit or put on the pressure. It was a useful two-way flow of information.
Then she’d met Reid. He’d barged into her life and taken over that role. They’d worked as a team, on a real case—and Kenzie had never felt more alive. This was her dream, and he’d given her a taste of that.
She didn’t want to lose it. Lose him.
What to do?
Her phone beeped. It was Keith.
Where the hell are you?
Coming! she texted back and got to her feet. Time to work.
She had an article to write, and it was a big one. As far as she knew, no other daily had released the Strangler’s name yet. Tomorrow, Pete Halston would go down in history as one of Miami’s most notorious serial killers. And she’d be the one to break it.
40
For fuck’s sake.
Reid stormed into the squad room and made a beeline for Ortega’s desk. “It was you, wasn’t it?” he hissed. “You told Kenzie that Bianca was extracted, when you knew full well she hadn’t been.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Ortega leaped out of his chair. The two men squared off.
Ryan scurried out of the way. Everybody’s eyes turned to the two men.
“You know damn well what I mean. You put her life at risk. She’s dead because of you.” Reid prodded him in the chest.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He took a step back, but Reid saw the fear in his eyes and knew it was true.
“You bastard! She trusted you. She trusted us to keep her safe. How could you betray her like that?”
“I didn’t betray anyone. You’ve got the wrong guy. I’d never do anything to risk Bianca’s life.”
“You did it to get back at me. You hated that she and I had something. That she rejected you.” Reid moved closer as he spoke. He wasn’t letting the prick get away with this.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he spat. “You meant nothing more to her than I did. Besides, she had feelings for Torres. She told me.”
“Bullshit. That bastard put a gun to her head and blew her brains out. Because of what you did. You won’t get away with this, Ortega. Her death is on you.”
“What’s going on?” Pérez stormed out of his office.
“Ortega was the leak,” Reid snapped. “He told the press that Bianca was pulled out when she hadn’t been. He killed the op.”
“Is that true?” asked Pérez.
Ortega didn’t reply.
“Murderer,” hissed Reid. He clenched his fists. God, he wanted to punch his lights out.
“Garrett, stand down,” barked his boss. He sensed Reid was about to lose it. “Ortega, my office. Now!”
Ortega inched around Reid, glaring daggers.
Give me one chance, Reid thought. One chance and you’re history.
“I'm no more guilty than you are,” he snarled. “Are you screwing Kenzie Gilmore now? You like picking up my leftovers, don’t you? Perhaps I should warn her you can’t protect your women.”
That was it.
Reid let out a feral growl and punched Ortega in the face. He flew backward into the photocopier machine, blood spurting from his nose.
“Christ, someone get him out of here!” Pérez roared.
Two detectives took hold of Reid’s arms and pulled him back. He was about to beat the living crap out of the little rat.
“Ortega, get in here now!” Pérez yelled, and stormed off to his office.
Reid shrugged free of the men holding him. “Okay. I’m okay. You can let go.”
They cautiously released him.
“Easy, brother,” Jared said. “It’s not worth your career.”
Reid thought it just might be.
“I need some air.”
They stepped aside to let Reid march out of the squad room and down four flights of stairs to the exit. Once outside, he gulped warm air into his lungs
and paced up and down by the water.
Prick.
He ought to have known Ortega was the leak. He just never thought he’d stoop so low as to put another officer’s life on the line. All for a petty vendetta. Wounded pride. Jesus.
He clenched his fist. It was beginning to ache. He hoped Ortega’s jaw hurt as much. Bianca, dead—because of a police screw up.
And then the jibe about Kenzie. He ground his teeth together as he strode up and down. Had she and Ortega really had a thing? Kenzie had said he’d been there when she had her accident. Was that when it happened? At the academy?
He frowned. The thought bothered him more than it should.
His phone buzzed.
“Get in here!”
Pérez.
The shit was about to hit the fan.
He left thoughts of Kenzie outside and marched back up. When he got there, Ortega was nowhere to be seen. The squad room was ominously quiet, but he felt everybody’s eyes on him as he stalked through to the lieutenant’s office.
“Sit down,” snapped Pérez.
He sat.
“What the hell was that about? You broke Ortega’s nose. He’s gone to Emergency to get it fixed.”
“Good.”
“Jesus, Garrett. What were you thinking?”
“Did he confess?” Reid asked. “Did he tell you he leaked information on an active case to a reporter who told the world we had an officer undercover?”
“He said he didn’t know she hadn’t been pulled out.”
“Bullshit,” Reid reiterated. “He knew because I told him myself that very morning.”
The lieutenant was silent for a moment. “There’ll be a formal investigation,” he said wearily. “I’ve already spoken to Internal Affairs.”
Reid gave a terse nod. That was something, at least.
“What's this about you and Kenzie Gilmore? That's the same reporter who leaked the story, isn’t it? I thought her name sounded familiar.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t her fault. Ortega was her source. They were at the police academy together. She was going off information he gave her.”
“So you are sleeping with her.”
