by G. K. Parks
“And he didn’t have any more to spend in order to make that happen.”
“No, and from what we’ve seen, he didn’t have it before that either, but he spent it anyway. I dug into his associates. They’re clean. They didn’t lend him money, and they aren’t responsible for the other unfortunate side effects of this case.” He rubbed the grit from his eyes.
From the dark shadows on his face, I knew he’d been up all night, probably working on identifying the real murderer before he got hauled in for another round of questioning. I reset the coffeemaker and took a seat beside him while it sputtered and hissed.
“When Don first approached me, he said Noah Ryder stole ten million dollars. When I asked why he couldn’t go to the police, he said it was complicated. And since the unsub demanded $250,000 for my release, I thought it was about money. But the unsub didn’t want money from Noah; he wanted the cryptocurrency. But it’s worthless. None of this makes any sense.”
“Maybe Noah borrowed money from the unsub, just like Klassi, and couldn’t pay it back. Perhaps Noah and Klassi conspired to convince the unsub that the cryptocurrency was valuable, and he fell for it. Maybe that’s why Klassi and the unsub were both desperate to get their hands on it.”
“Because the unsub thinks it has value, and Klassi figured it was an easy and free way of paying back his debt?” I asked. “Okay, let’s say you’re right. But what I can’t figure out is why the unsub would introduce Don to Noah. That’s where everything falls apart.” I filled a mug and handed it to Cross.
He inhaled deeply and took a sip. “The only thing Don could get from Noah was worthless cryptocurrency, which is why he came to us. The unsub wants the coin. Maybe he figured Don would get it for him.”
That just left one question; why did the unsub want that particular worthless type of cryptocurrency? “The currency was created by CryptSpec. This goes back to Stuart Gifford’s murder. It’s connected somehow. Detective Heathcliff said you handed over our files and interview tapes. I didn’t realize the two of you were best friends.”
Cross practically choked. Glaring at me, he wiped his mouth and the droplets of coffee with a napkin. “I’m not sure anything I gave the police will be of use, but I am certain of one thing. Klassi intended to use my firm to get that ten million. I’m just not entirely sure how.”
“Detective Heathcliff said Klassi was a victim of ransomware, just like Stuart Gifford.”
“Where was Klassi killed?”
“In his home.”
Abruptly, Cross stood. “I forgot I have a client meeting. Stay safe, Alex.” Without another word, he strode out of the apartment.
Bruiser gave me a questioning look. “That was odd.”
“I agree.” Cross knew something, but he wasn’t sharing it with me. Bewildered, I dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain and put the mug in the dishwasher. When I turned around, Bruiser was at the balcony door. The bodyguard gave me a polite nod and left the apartment. “Wow, I sure know how to clear a room.”
The curtain moved, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Martin stepped inside from the balcony and gave me a look. “Cross was here?” he asked.
“I thought you left for work.”
He pointed to the Bluetooth stuck to his ear. “I’ve been working since five a.m. International calls. I’m supposed to go into the office this afternoon.” He watched me fidget with my holster. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What’s the point? You already know the answer.”
“I don’t like it. Did you invite him?”
“You’re joking.” Before I could say anything else, the phone rang again.
Martin sighed. “Why are you up so early? You look tired.”
“I am tired, but the phone hasn’t stopped ringing.” I reached the device at the same time he did, but he plucked it out of my hand.
“You didn’t seem to care about that yesterday.”
“And someone was dead. Answering might be important.” I held out my palm. “Who is it?”
“Jabber.” He handed me the phone. “Vacation, sweetheart. I’m serious. We can leave tonight.”
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, turning my back on the frustratingly determined look Martin was giving me.
“I see Lucien paid you a visit. What did he want?” Mark asked.
“Oh my god. Did he tweet about it or send out a smoke signal or something?” I went to the window and peered out the blinds at the street below. From this height, I couldn’t be sure. “Are you following him?”
“No, but I just happened to see him leaving your apartment building when I pulled up. I’ve found something that you should probably see, and I have a few questions that need answering. Thought it’d be easiest, given your condition, if I picked you up.”
“My condition?” I bristled.
“Just meet me downstairs.”
Martin watched me collect my things and holster my weapon. “When you get back, we’re going to finish our discussion concerning Monaco.” He leaned in close and kissed me. “You should know I might even have a PowerPoint presentation prepared to support my argument with plenty of bullet points. You know how much I love to argue my case.”
“I can’t wait.”
After convincing Bruiser that I didn’t need a bodyguard, I stepped out of the building and spotted Mark’s SUV. As I opened the door, I saw a figure in black. He stood across the street, watching. A car went past, and he was gone.
Thirty-seven
Police and FBI units canvassed the area and patrolled the streets. No one saw the figure in black. No one spotted any suspicious vehicles with out of state plates. Not even Mark or the police officers keeping watch noticed, but I knew what I saw. At least, I thought I did.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake it. That feeling that someone was out there, waiting, watching. A police cruiser remained outside the apartment building. Surely, they would have seen him. And if they missed him, the doorman would have noticed a sinister figure stationed across the street. Still, it didn’t stop me from requesting a detail be placed in the lobby and turning the outside of my apartment building into a circus. If the killer had been waiting, he was gone now. I texted Bruiser and asked him to be vigilant. Mark circled around a few more times, but no one was there.
“It’s normal to be spooked after what you went through,” Jablonsky said as he merged onto the interstate. “Dr. Weiler told me you asked for a recommendation. Have you made an appointment yet?”
I let out a displeased growl. “I’m not sure it’ll be necessary. We’ll see.”
“How are you handling everything?”
“So far, so good. I’ve been too tired and achy to dream much, and aside from this morning’s hallucination, I’ve been reasonably okay. Martin’s another story. He’s the reason I asked for the recommendation. I’m worried about him. I finally convinced him to sleep yesterday, but now he’s got this crazy notion that we should go to Monaco.”
“You should. Remember that detour we made in Monte Carlo when we were working that case overseas?”
“I don’t have the same fond memories from that trip that you do. I just remember the fancy casinos, ridiculously expensive hotels, and wanting to get back in the field.”
“Speaking of casinos, that’s actually why we’re going on this little excursion.”
“You have a compelling need to gamble?” I cocked a confused eyebrow in his direction. “They have support groups for that.”
“I already hit the jackpot with Gideon Steinman.”
That piqued my interest. “What did you discover? Do we have any leads? What about the bodies?”
He shook his head. “I guess I should have said Steinman hit the jackpot. Fifteen years ago, he spent a weekend in Atlantic City and literally won the jackpot. Ten million dollars.”
“Ten?” That couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Yep. He returned home the next day and went to work like nothing happened. Everyone I’ve spoken t
o had no idea he won any money whatsoever. But his winnings were reported to the IRS, and he paid taxes on them. Never put the money in the bank and continued going about his life like nothing happened. Six months later, he retired and took a bunch of trips to his family’s cabin to hide away from the world and fish. At least that’s what he told his neighbors. Steinman was a total loner. No living family, few friends. It was just him and the great outdoors.” Mark pulled to a stop outside a house with a shiny new for sale sign in the yard. “Now his bills are starting to come due. Until three months ago, he was getting regular deposits in his bank account, but when they stopped, he stopped paying for his care. The nursing home threatened to take his house. The realtor put up the sign this morning, but no one’s been inside except a team of agents.”
I stepped out of the car and looked at the small, suburban home. “Who’s been paying his bills this whole time? And why wasn’t he using his winnings?”
Mark jerked his head at the door. “Come on.” He led the way inside. Sheets covered what furniture remained. A few photographs dotted the mantle. Mounted hunting trophies lined one wall. He led me through the house and to a staircase that led to the basement. “We’re lucky the realtor didn’t have time to clear the place out before we found out about Gideon and his cabin.” Mark flipped on the light.
Descending a wooden staircase into a cold, dark, concrete structure wasn’t how I wanted to spend my day. I shivered. The rear wall was covered in canned foods, bottled water, and emergency rations.
“What the hell is wrong with this guy?” I asked. “Are you sure he isn’t a serial killer working with a protégé?”
“The bodies were too fresh.” He glanced back at me. “It’s not a crime to be prepared for the apocalypse.” He led me to a closet in the rear and tugged on the cord. A light came on inside, and I stared at a large gun cabinet filled with a vast assortment of hunting gear, handguns, shotguns, rifles, and knives. “The weapons are registered. We found all of them except two — a handgun and a rifle.”
“The killer was here. This is where he got his toys.” A small metal object caught my eye, and I knelt down to examine it. “Who’s taking care of the house while Steinman’s in the nursing home?”
“We’re not sure. Gideon suffered a stroke and has trouble speaking and remembering things. The nursing home staff mentioned a nephew, Nicky, but that doesn’t track. Gideon didn’t have any siblings.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t Noah?”
“Could be.”
“Maybe it was a friend’s kid.” I held up a bullet. “This isn’t helpful.”
“I had a team search the house. We didn’t find anything, but I thought you should take a look. Maybe you’d recognize something the killer had or some similarity to the bomb shelter. Anything to lead us to the killer.”
“Where do you think the ten million went?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
I pointed at the shelves. “That’s the same setup from the bomb shelter.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. Let me look around upstairs.” I wanted out of the basement as quickly as possible. “Did you dust for prints?”
“We found a few sets. Four or five, but we didn’t get any hits in IAFIS.”
“Every print we’ve ever found isn’t in the system. Why would that change now?”
We went up the steps while I continued to pepper Jablonsky with questions about the four bodies and Gideon Steinman and who had access. A team of agents performed their due diligence by questioning Gideon’s former coworkers, neighbors, colleagues, nursing home staff, and volunteers. One of them had to be the killer or know who was.
I stopped in the bedroom, wondering if Gideon hid the money in the mattress. Of course, that was the first place Jablonsky checked. While searching through Gideon’s closet, I caught movement in the mirror. I turned, seeing only myself.
“Mark?” I called.
“Out here.” He was searching the linen closet to see if he could find any blankets similar to the one I found at the cabin. “What’s wrong?”
I looked back at the mirror, but I was the only one here. “Nothing. I thought you came into the room.” Backing against the wall, I removed my gun and looked around. The bedroom was empty. Taking a few steps to the side, I checked the bathroom. It was also empty. I returned to the bedroom and stared at the mirror. It was on a wall between the closet door and the bedroom door.
I stared at my reflection for a moment, seeing a thinner, frightened version of what I normally saw. Maybe I should call the shrink. Turning, I went back to searching the closet. When I didn’t find anything, I stepped back into the bedroom and gave the mirror another look.
“That’s weird.” The wall was as thick as the closet, but the interior of the closet ended three inches from the doorjamb. There were at least two feet of unaccounted for space behind the mirror.
Removing the floor length mirror from the wall required lifting, which I wasn’t supposed to do. “Shit.” I doubled over and fell against the side of the bed just as a bullet tore through the window behind me. Glass showered down around me, and I yanked my gun free. A barrage of gunfire pinned me against the floor.
Mark rushed to me, but I told him to stay back. “He’s outside. I’ll distract him. Go.” I fired a few shots out the window, but no return fire followed. Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I rolled onto my side and pushed up on one hand. Crawling to the window, I waited a beat before peering outside.
Jablonsky barked orders into his phone, requesting a perimeter and back-up units. “Son of a bitch. He’s gone.”
Using the window sill for support, I climbed to my feet. “Get in here. I found something.”
I ripped pieces of the damaged wall away, revealing a hidden compartment. Obviously, there was another way to access this, but I’d just been shot at. I didn’t feel like looking for the door. A metal box sat on the floor, and I crouched down in front of it.
“Are you okay?” Mark asked, keeping one eye out the window.
“I’ve been worse.” I flipped the latches on the box and opened it. Inside were dozens of USB drives, brochures, and several pamphlets. I picked them up, recognizing them as the materials I’d found in Noah’s apartment. “How much you want to bet these are loaded with worthless cryptocurrency?” I asked, holding up one of the drives.
Sirens blared, and Mark went outside, holding up his credentials. After informing the responding officers to maintain a perimeter and canvass the area, he returned inside. “Noah’s still in the hospital. He hasn’t gone anywhere, so he can’t be the shooter. But if you’re right, he must have been here at some point to stock up on the coin, and the shooter is probably his accomplice. The asshole’s been lying to us all along. We never should have trusted a con man.”
“Did you get a look at the shooter?” I asked.
“No. He vanished by the time I got outside.” Jablonsky blew out an angry breath and slammed his palm against the wall, knocking bits of drywall loose. “I already have people checking nearby traffic cams. A silver SUV with rental plates blew through a red light. We’re running it now, and the police have set up traffic stops.”
“He’ll slip through. He always does.”
Jablonsky swore. “How did he know we’d be here?”
“He followed us. Well, me.” I rubbed my cheek. It was still sore. “He was outside Martin’s apartment this morning. I don’t care that no one else saw him or the search turned up empty. He was there.” I dialed Bruiser. Depending on how smart the killer was, he might target Martin.
“He must really hate you,” Mark mused as FBI techs arrived and entered the house. “Any idea why?”
“Heathcliff thinks I ruined his life.”
“Who?”
“Ian Barber.”
“You think he’s the killer?”
“Derek does, even though Barber has an alibi for the time of Stuart Gifford’s murder. But Derek’s a professional. Let’s see if he’s right.”
Jablons
ky narrowed his eyes, watching as I detoured away from the exit and into the kitchen. With shaky hands, I opened the drawers and held up a spoon. “Same flatware I used to dig myself free. This is definitely the right place.”
“I thought the bullets through the window would have tipped you off.”
Growling out a creative obscenity, I walked out of the house. Visually, I swept the area, but the shooter was long gone.
Thirty-eight
Ian Barber was inside an interrogation room while someone shot at me. In fact, several of CryptSpec’s more questionable employees had alibis for the time in question. Surprisingly, most of them were cooperating, and Heathcliff had collected a number of fingerprints. So far, none of them matched the unknowns found at the cabin or in Steinman’s home.
“Hey,” Heathcliff said, stepping out of the interrogation to speak to me, “remember that theory you had that the killer had law enforcement experience? It turns out CryptSpec’s been designing simulation training modules. One of them deals specifically with evidence collection.”
“Great,” Jablonsky said, nonplussed. “Let me guess; they have another one on how to shoot.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Heathcliff said. “I don’t suppose that means anything, but I figured you might want to know.”
I stared at Barber through the glass. “I heard he admitted to the ransomware scheme. Why would he do that?”
“Prosecutor cut him a deal due to the murders. The AG’s office would prefer collaring a serial killer with four known victims, rather than a cyberterrorist who’s only targeted a couple of the city’s professionals.”
“That’s how it goes,” Jablonsky said.
“Nonviolent crime trumps violent crime every day,” Derek said. “It’s a federal matter anyway. I’m just trying to figure out who killed Gifford and Klassi.”
“Has Barber said anything useful?” I asked.
