Intended Target

by G. K. Parks

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I moved past him and into the next room. From the boxing gear in the corner, I figured it was probably Facini’s room. Amazingly, the pizza box had been removed from the floor, but the place reeked. Opening the closet resulted in a tidal wave of random items pouring out. After carefully picking my way through the mess, I decided to let the professionals deal with it. It would take me a week to sort through it, and I’d want to wear a hazmat suit before remaining in such close proximity to whatever toxic chemicals might be lurking within the confines of Facini’s personal space.

  The only remaining room was Philip’s. Paperwork cluttered the desk and dresser. Textbooks were piled in a corner next to the overrun bookshelf. The walls were covered with posters of mostly naked women, some from prominent video games. Wow, this is what it looked like for a teenage boy to be trapped in a man’s body. Beneath the bed was a pile of worn Playboys and Maxims, and inside the closet was another dresser and a few storage containers. Something useful was here. The problem was finding it.

  Opening a few dresser drawers, I found nothing but clothing. If this dresser contained clothes, what was in the other one? I went across the room and opened the top drawer. There was a pile of socks, and beneath that was a ledger. The next drawer resulted in similar results. How many books did this guy have? Feeling overwhelmed, I closed the drawers and went to the window.

  The building that housed Coker’s gym was visible, but from this distance, it’d be impossible to see who was coming and going. I didn’t think Philip or Elias knew for certain that Brad and I were inside last night when they crashed our date, particularly after seeing the look on Philip’s face before he attacked, but he had a gun and was wearing a cup. He was either extremely cautious or expected to run into trouble. Where did he get the gun?

  I spun, searching the room with renewed vigor for a different lead. After another two hours of ripping the furniture apart and discovering numerous hidden items and compartments, something shiny caught my eye. With the help of a few of the crime techs, they photographed and removed the grate from the vent. Inside was an opened Chinese food container. The metal handle had reflected the light, catching my attention, and stowed inside was a handful of bullets. Some went to a handgun, but the others corresponded with the caliber used in a high velocity rifle.

  “Put a rush on this place. If you need additional units, call for reinforcements. Jablonsky will sign off on it.” I clicked a photo using my phone and headed for the door. “Don’t leave a single nook or cranny unchecked. I want these bastards, and I want to know precisely which ones are involved with what illegal activities.”

  Thirty-five

  “Did you have anger issues before you moved in with Elias and Philip?” I asked, studying Brad from across the table. The evidence collection was still underway, but progress was rapidly being made. “Because living with those two slobs would make me want to kill someone.”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t blame them for that. We’re supposed to own up to our mistakes.” He shrugged. “Can I ask what you’re hoping to find? Why am I being detained? Last night, it was for extortion, but that guy that makes you grimace, Agent Lucas or something, he said this is a murder investigation.”

  “Lucca,” I corrected. “He’s an idiot.” Great, tell our best asset and potential suspect that he’s about to be charged with murder and see how quickly he shuts up and asks for a lawyer. “A lot of bad shit’s surrounding Tim Coker and his gym. Unfortunately, it appears your two roommates might be involved, so we can’t let you go until we’re certain that you’re not helping them. The more you tell us, the faster we’ll get you out of here.”

  “I’ll tell you everything I know. I have nothing to hide.” He stared into my eyes. “The pot’s not mine. I was just joking around about it because you acted like you were into edgy bad boys.”

  “Your record makes you a bad boy.”

  “Yeah, but not the kind of bad boy any sane woman would want to spend time with, particularly alone in an unfamiliar apartment with a strange man who has a history of violence. It was my pathetic attempt at flirting, but they do random drug testing at work, probably because it’s a diner and we’re responsible for preparing people’s meals. You can test me now. I’m clean.”

  “Okay.” I tossed a glance at the mirror behind me, knowing that someone would be showing up momentarily to perform a blood draw. Brad just gave us permission, and who knew when or if his DNA might come in handy. “Let’s talk about your roommates. Besides the pot, are there any other illegal substances inside the apartment?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “What about weapons?”

  “You saw my collection on the living room wall, but you’re not asking about that. Are you still hung up on guns?”

  “Philip was armed last night. He fired on me. Did you know he had a gun?”

  “What?” Brad sounded surprised. “Is this a trick?”

  “No tricks. Do you remember either of them talking about firearms? Handguns, rifles, shotguns, whatever? Maybe going to the range or buying ammunition?”

  He exhaled, rubbing his five o’clock shadow. “Elias goes to the shooting range every week. He said he trained at the police academy, but I didn’t believe him. He likes to blow smoke. They both do. I guess they’ve talked about shooting stuff, but I just assumed they were talking about their stupid video games or paintball.”

  “Have you ever seen either of them with a weapon or ammunition?”

  “No.”

  Lucca entered the room with one of the lab techs. “Parker, you’ve been at this all day. Why don’t you give Mr. Bellows a break? Maybe some quiet time will help jog his memory.”

  “I am kinda hungry,” Brad said, understanding that we were done for the night. “Are you guys gonna feed me, or is starvation the method you use to get me to talk?”

  “Agent Lucca will get you whatever you want,” I promised, “and I’ll try to expedite your release. Thanks for cooperating.”

  “Whatever I can do, Alex,” Brad replied.

  Leaving the room, I went to my desk to see how much progress had been made on the evidence collection. While I was interviewing Brad, Lucca and Jablonsky questioned Facini and Dennison multiple times, and reading those transcripts might lead to something useful. Settling into my chair with a cup of coffee, I set to work.

  “The two of you seem pretty cozy,” Jablonsky said, sifting through the files that had collected on my desk. “Bellows won’t shut up when you’re in the room. He thinks he’s controlling the situation.”

  “By answering everything I ask?” I gave Mark a skeptical look. “I doubt that.”

  “You think he’s innocent.”

  “I don’t think anything. I simply follow the evidence.” I began ticking points off on my fingers. “Dennison has been positively identified as partaking in illegal betting. He was carrying an unregistered, illegal firearm. He assaulted a federal agent, which we can trump up to attempted murder, and inside his bedroom, we found a hidden container with various types of bullets, one of which will probably match the sniper rifle used to kill AUSA Weaver and William Briscoe.” I picked up a transcript. “So how come you haven’t beaten a confession out of him yet?”

  “His attorney won’t let us.”

  “Who’s representing him?”

  “Thomas Harper,” Jablonsky replied.

  “What the fuck is going on? Why would Coker pay for Dennison’s attorney too?”

  “I don’t know who’s paying Harper. We can’t get access to those records. It falls under attorney-client privilege, and there’s no way we’ll get a court order to access them.”

  “Is Facini using Harper? When he was being detained by the police department, he supposedly kicked Harper to the curb.”

  “No, Facini’s on his own for now, but he’s stonewalling us. I get the distinct impression that he has no earthly idea what to do to get out of this mess. We’ll crack him eventually. In the meantime, w
e’re keeping a unit on the gym. The Greenwoods are supposed to come in tomorrow afternoon, and Laura and Will are coming in to answer some more questions first thing in the morning.”

  “What about ballistics? Have they matched the bullets inside the apartment with the same type they pulled out of Weaver’s skull?”

  “We’re making progress, but everything takes time. The reports should be back tomorrow. The problem with everything inside that apartment is, regardless of location, it could belong to any of the occupants.”

  “Blame it on Dennison. His name is the only one on the lease.”

  “He’ll just pass the blame onto Facini and Bellows, even if they aren’t behind it.” Jablonsky smiled, understanding my point. “And when he gives details that no one else is privy to, we’ll have him for murder.”

  “Facini alibied out, and so did Brad. They both have day jobs, but Dennison’s a TA. Maybe he has office hours, but unless he has a meeting scheduled, he could slip out without anyone noticing.”

  Mark looked at his watch. “It’s Friday night. We’ll pull campus records first thing Monday morning. Finish up, leave your notes in my office, and call it a night.” He turned to leave. “Oh, and don’t show up too early tomorrow. We don’t want to fuel the fire with the Briscoes.”

  * * *

  “You’re late,” Martin said when I stepped foot inside the house. “We’re supposed to meet Jen and Nick in an hour.”

  “The engine on your town car is still warm, so don’t act like I’m the only one running late.” I went up the stairs to the bedroom with Martin at my heels. “Can I have a raincheck for this weekend?”

  “Alexis, you promised.”

  “Really? That’s the argument you’re making?” I opened the closet door, searching for something backless. The stiff cotton from my dress shirt had been pulling at the band-aids, causing the adhesive to irritate my skin. “We finally have a break in the case. Today, we uncovered a stockpile of evidence. Three suspects are in custody, and two interviews are scheduled for tomorrow. I have to be there. Work first, remember?”

  “Work’s not supposed to be on the table for this weekend.” He sighed. “Fine, but when you’re here, you’re actually focused on us.” He put his fingers underneath my chin and forced me to look at him. “Agreed?”

  “Deal.”

  He selected a garment bag and went into the bathroom while I changed in the bedroom, carefully freed my hair from the braid it had been in, and let the loose waves fall against my naked back. It wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it’d work for tonight. Then I smoothed the dress and lay sideways on the bed to keep from wrinkling it. Truth be told, I was tired. Today had been interminable, and my muscles were a little sore from the previous night. At least I had gotten to spend most of the day sitting inside an interrogation room and talking with someone who actually wanted to cooperate. I could count the number of times that happened on one hand.

  Martin opened the bathroom door and stood in front of the full-length mirror to adjust his tie.

  “Hello, sailor.” I whistled, watching him give his appearance the once-over. “Is that a new suit?”

  “It is. I’m glad you like it.” He eyed me through the mirror, smirking. “I had to replace the one that didn’t make it out of the shower.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculously handsome.” He turned to face me, buttoning his vest and then the jacket. “You look particularly comfortable. Are you trying to seduce me?”

  I sat up and reached for his wrist, pulling him closer before he could walk away. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Come on, Alex, you know we’re meeting the O’Connells tonight. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He winked. “Did you want Cristal or Dom? I figured we’d get bottle service, and I want to know what you’re in the mood for, besides me.”

  “A pitcher of beer.”

  Ignoring the exasperated look on his face, I climbed off the bed and ran my palms along the expensive material. I could have bought half a car for what that suit cost, but damn, he made it look good. Too good for a casual evening with civil servants and the working class. Carefully, I started on the top button, but he grasped my hands in his.

  “You can undress me later. This weekend is about us, and it starts the moment we get home.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but I’m not trying to get in your pants. You just can’t wear that tonight.”

  “Why not?” He raised an eyebrow, spinning to check his reflection in the mirror. “What’s wrong? Is there a tear or snag?” Martin’s forehead creased when he failed to find a defect in his attire. He shook his head ever so slightly. “You’ve never dictated my wardrobe before. Did Nick say something?”

  “No, but—”

  “But suddenly the wealth disparity is an issue because we live together.” He laughed, choosing to roll with the punches instead of arguing. “You keep looking for reasons why this won’t work or problems that don’t exist. When will you admit that this is working? And the things that aren’t, we’ll figure out.” He went into the bathroom to grab his watch. “I have a surprise for you, but since you’re working this weekend, it’ll have to wait.”

  “Martin, I don’t like surprises.” I glanced around the room, noting an additional matching dresser on the other side. Great, now he was in the middle of redecorating. Why was he wasting his time? And I realized that I didn’t expect this to last. “What if I’m the problem?” I asked quietly, but he didn’t hear the question.

  He came back into the bedroom, looking a million different kinds of sexy and impatient to get going. “Are you ready?”

  “I guess.”

  He grinned. “Perhaps you were right about the suit. It’s a shame no one will even notice it because they’ll be focused on how stunningly beautiful you are.”

  “Somehow, I doubt it.” I grabbed a pair of strappy heels and carried them down the steps.

  When we arrived at the bar, Jenny and Nick were waiting out front. Martin insisted on taking us somewhere elegant and quiet, probably since last date night Nick and I spent thirty minutes debating if we should bust the drug dealer in the corner of the room. By the time we’d come to an agreement, the guy was gone. So tonight, we were on the guest list of a members only club. Martin held the naïve belief that illegal activity would be at a minimum in a place like this, and I didn’t have the heart to burst his bubble. Nick and I would just have to be on our best behavior.

  Jen was impressed, staring at every fixture and the lavish furnishings while Nick caught my eye and made a face. Fancy, he mouthed to me, and I shrugged. Despite the fact that this setting was supposed to force us to forget about work, we had plenty to discuss, particularly since the blackmail envelope was picked up the previous evening. Thankfully, privacy was one of the key features of swanky, exclusive clubs.

  Thirty-six

  “I’m unclear who gets the collar,” Nick said. “The blackmail is local jurisdiction, but Agent Lucca took over the surveillance when we pulled out. And now you have three suspects in custody?”

  “Yes, but since I was on a date with one of them, I’m not entirely sure how suspect he is. We’re detaining him the full forty-eight. Jablonsky thinks he’s involved, but I’m not so sure. He has a history of violence, and he’s changed his name. But he’s working the program, and he’s alibied out for the potentially connected homicides that actually are within our jurisdiction.”

  “Let me get this straight, you think the blackmailer is also the murder suspect.”

  “I hope so because we’re out of leads. Oh, and before I forget, guess who’s representing the blackmailer.”

  “No shit.” Nick’s jaw dropped. “There’s no fucking way.” He shook his head in disbelief. “That alone should be enough of a smoking gun.” He screwed his eyes shut, deep in thought. When he opened them, I saw the light bulb click on. “The gym owner, he’s the common denominator. He’s probably your shooter.”

  “He
doesn’t fit the profile. We have a basic physical description from the office surveillance footage, and he isn’t a match.”

  I pressed my lips together, halting the conversation. Even though I wasn’t supposed to discuss an ongoing case, Nick was the exception to the rule since he was a police detective for the major crimes division and I dropped this in his lap. It was hard to talk shop when Jen and Martin were lingering nearby, but Martin had gone to get another round of drinks since the bottle of champagne was empty and Jen had gone to the ladies’ room. However, she was on her way back to the table, and Nick and I fell silent.

  “I’m not fooled. You always do this,” Jen accused, glaring first at her husband and then at me. “Our double dates were never intended to be events for the two of you to discuss work.”

  “I’m sorry, honey,” Nick said. “Alex is a pain in the ass. I keep telling you we need to stop associating with the uncouth.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him. “Do you even know what that word means?”

  “No, but there’s a dictionary app on my phone. It really helps when I’m interrogating clever suspects.”

  “Ooh, you’ll have to send me a link. They get so annoyed when I’m flipping through pages, trying to find the definition for smartass.”

  Jen laughed, covering her mouth to hide the amusement that escaped. “Fine, you win. Discuss away.” She turned, searching the room. “Where’s James? If I have to spend another minute listening to this comedy routine, I’m going to need a drink.”

  I glanced up, zeroing in on Martin. “The chances of getting that drink are decreasing by the minute.” The bartender practically had her tongue hanging out of her mouth as she flirted with him. “I told him not to wear that suit.”

  “It’s not the suit,” Jen replied.

  Nick rolled his eyes. “I am sitting right here. Have some dignity, woman.”

  She laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “You know I’m only kidding.”