The Third to Die

by Allison Brennan

  “Matt, you gotta see this.”

  Michael had been going through the desk. He’d found a couple knives—identical, and likely the same type that had been used to kill the first eight victims. And a box of bullets.

  “.45s,” Michael said. “And this box is empty.”

  “No gun?”

  “Not that I could find. But this box is also empty.” He held up a box that had once held a high-end hunting knife.

  “That could have been the knife he killed Andy with.”

  “And it’s not here. It’s a good tool, better than the four-inch double-sided blades he used on the other vics. It’s better balanced.”

  Which meant he could throw it and hit his target—if he had even a little practice.

  Matt stepped out into the living room and called Packard.

  “Press is everywhere. Andy’s name was leaked, and it wasn’t my office.”

  “Not mine, either,” Matt said, “but there were a lot of cops and civilians at the scene, not to mention paramedics, fire, and a press crew. You’d think they’d stay in when it’s twenty-five fucking degrees.”

  “I gotta give them something, Agent Costa.”

  “Agreed. I need a forensics team at Hamilton’s house, competent and tight-lipped. There’s a lot of evidence here, and some of it is sensitive. Jordan is processing the house in Liberty Lake.”

  “I don’t want to pull him off.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I’ll put the fear of God into the rest of his crew. They’ll do a good job.”

  “Appreciate it. I’ll be there to help with the press. This is one time I think we can use them to our advantage.”

  “Can I announce we’ll have a statement in thirty minutes?”

  “Yes. I’ll be there.”

  Matt said, “I need you here, Michael—I’ll talk to the SWAT team and have them split. We don’t need all six of them for backup, but I don’t want anyone exposed. If Hamilton returns, no one is going to be caught in his crossfire.”

  “Understood.”

  “Search the car, every drawer, see if there’s any hint of what other names he might be using, the other corporations Ryder says he may have, evidence of another car. He’s not on foot, not in this weather.”

  Matt stepped out into the freezing cold. He had an overcoat, but it didn’t do much good against the biting wind. He found the SWAT team leader, told him what he needed, and was confident it would get done. Then he had his SPD driver take him back to the station. On the way he called Catherine.

  “I just got the photos,” she said. “This is great stuff.”

  “He’s in the wind. He’s wounded. He knows what my people look like. He’s followed several cops home and knows who their families are. I’m giving a statement to the press in—” he glanced at his watch “—twenty minutes. What do I say?”

  “It’s already been released that he’s a suspect in the murder of a cop. He’s going to be in hiding. If he hasn’t left town, he has another place. Vacant house. Someplace he feels safe enough to regroup.”

  “I don’t think he’s left town.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Brian Maddox is still alive, and he wants to kill him.”

  “But he has also exhibited signs of self-preservation. I talked to Jim Esteban while he was processing the double homicide in Liberty Lake. He thinks that Hamilton killed the owner, then was going through the house looking for something, or perhaps just trying to remember what it was like there when he was young and his mother was alive. Detective Knoll’s arrival surprised him, forced him to act. He didn’t hesitate. He could have run out the back, but he didn’t—because that would give the police time to catch up with him. Instead, he chose confrontation—he came out and attacked immediately. The officers weren’t prepared because they hadn’t been expecting Hamilton. He’s injured—not life threatening, but enough to where he should be considered a wounded animal.”

  “Wounded animals fight back.”

  “Or hide and lick their wounds.”

  “So he’s licking his wounds waiting for an opportunity to act. He knows everyone on my team. Even the detective from LA—he thinks she’s a federal agent because he hadn’t seen her before the investigation began—because there was no reason for him to. He followed her to her house. Or me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I drove out there on Sunday to discuss the case with her and dammit, I know how to spot a tail. Either I’m off or he’s good.”

  “He’s good, Matt—really good. And planning this killing spree for a long time. According to these pictures he followed several cops, and no one realized it. He blends in. Uses his cell phone camera because no one thinks twice about someone on their cell phone.”

  “I’m going to tell the press almost everything. I need everyone alert, calling in with any tip. It’s a fucking blizzard here, getting worse. People are going to be staying indoors.”

  “I’ll go over all the photos again, see if I can see something that might help.”

  “Ryder is going through Hamilton’s finances—he has at least one shell company in addition to his regular employer and that’s how he stays off the grid at times. He works remotely, so no one thinks twice if he’s not around the office. He gets his work done, that’s all they care about. If you need more, call Michael Harris—he’s at Hamilton’s house searching top to bottom. Forensics is on their way.”

  “Does the detective from Los Angeles have a protective detail?”

  “I told everyone, even Quinn, not to go out alone. Right now she’s safe at SPD, but when she learns that her grandmother may be in danger, she’ll go there.”

  “I’m looking at the photos and also that she’s the one who saw him outside of Chief Maddox’s house. He’s going to know that she was the witness who helped with the sketch, which is an up-to-date image.”

  “And?”

  “He’s going to be angry. Perhaps she should leave town with her grandmother, until you find him.”

  Matt didn’t know Kara well, but he could pretty much assure Catherine that Kara would never run away, especially now that Hamilton killed Andy.

  “Did you hear about the blizzard? All flights delayed. Roads are shit. I’ll put them someplace safe.”

  “He’s angry, which makes him reckless,” Catherine said, “but he still has a plan. Remember that. Be alert.”

  48

  Liberty Lake

  5:15 p.m.

  Kara packed her grandmother’s suitcase because Emily wouldn’t do it herself.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Emily said.

  “You have to.”

  “I don’t have to do anything.”

  “Grams, Detective Andy Knolls was murdered. We know who killed him, and the FBI found photos of your house at the killer’s place. He knows where I’m staying. You’re not safe here.”

  Emily frowned. “I just don’t understand what’s going on.”

  Kara wanted to beat Glen Hamilton to a pulp for putting fear into her grandmother’s heart. “I’ll stay here if you want me to,” she said. She didn’t want to. She wanted to find this bastard before he hurt anyone else. “If you don’t want to leave, I’ll stay here and protect you.”

  Emily frowned. “You need to work with the police and find him.”

  “I am the police, Em. He killed Andy. I don’t have a lot of friends, Em. But Andy was one of them. But you’re family, and I will do anything to make sure you’re safe.”

  Kara pushed aside the competing guilt. Over what she’d said to Andy the other day, and wanting to work this case even though her grandmother needed her.

  “Can you take me to Flo’s house?”

  “Flo Abbott? Sure. No problem. Call her, tell her you’re coming for a few days.”

  “She has cats. I like cats. I though
t of getting a cat or two to keep me company.”

  Leave it to her grandmother to find the bright side of a terrible situation.

  While Em called her longtime friend, Kara finished packing everything her grandmother would need—clothes, medication, toiletries, even her marijuana stash. She found two books on the nightstand and put them in, too.

  “Flo’s excited. Said we’re having a slumber party. Can you get the whiskey on the top shelf? Flo likes whiskey.”

  Kara brought it down and put it in the top of the suitcase, then helped Em on with her heavy coat.

  “Two police cars,” Em said as Kara helped her out to the street. “I’ve never had a police escort before.” She smiled at the officer assigned to escort them to Flo’s house. “You look too young to be a policeman.”

  “I’m thirty-two, ma’am.”

  “Too young,” she repeated.

  “I’m thirty, Grams,” Kara said.

  Em just looked at her with raised eyebrows. Kara didn’t need this argument.

  She went with Em to Flo Abbott’s house. Flo lived in the country, halfway back to Spokane. Five acres in the middle of nowhere, and there was no reason that Glen Hamilton would know about this place. She’d made sure they weren’t tailed, and was confident that her grandmother would be safe here. While Kara didn’t think that he would go after Emily, she couldn’t take the chance.

  She felt comfortable, at least, letting Em stay out here, and the Sheriff’s escort promised they would check on her frequently. Flo herself had a shotgun by the door, and assured Kara that she would shoot first, ask questions later. Kara didn’t need to hear that. One pull on the shotgun and Flo would probably be knocked on her ass.

  But in addition to at least six cats, Flo had two German shepherds who would make good protectors.

  “Don’t open the door to anyone,” Kara reminded the two women.

  “Dinner’s almost ready,” Flo said. “Can you stay for a bite?”

  “It smells great, but I really can’t.”

  Em walked over and put her hands on Kara’s shoulders. She looked up and said, “You be careful, Kara. I know you think you have to do this, and I won’t tell you that you can’t. Not that you’d listen to me. But I love you, and you need to know that.”

  Kara wasn’t good with emotions, but ever since Hamilton hit the kid, her emotions had been going up and down. Andy’s death made them even rockier. “Love you, too, Grams.”

  She left before she did something stupid like cry.

  She slipped back into the police car—the front seat this time, which made her feel more in charge.

  “Your grandma’s going to be okay,” the officer said.

  “Yes, she will. Have they had the press conference yet?”

  “Over and done. Packard let the fed talk almost the entire time. It was brief and to the point. Glen Hamilton is wanted for the murder of a police officer and civilian. No connection to the Triple Killer, but when asked by the press, Costa said he’s wanted for questioning in both previous Liberty Lake murders. He’s considered armed and dangerous, yada yada. Where to? The station?”

  “Head there, I’m going to call Maddox.”

  The phone rang twice before Brian picked up. “Em’s safe with Flo Abbott. Sheriff will patrol regularly. What’s happening?”

  “Costa convinced me to stay at the station all night,” Brian said. “I didn’t argue. No way is Hamilton getting in here, not with our security. You don’t need to babysit me.”

  “I love babysitting,” she said. “But seriously, if you’re staying put and I don’t have to worry about your safety, I want to be in the field.”

  “I understand. Costa’s still here—wants to talk to you.”

  A second later, Matt came on the line. “You’re not staying with your grandmother?”

  “She’s safe. I’m heading back to town. What can I do?”

  “Stay at the station with Maddox.”

  “No. I’m the only one who has seen this guy up close and personal.”

  “He thinks you’re a federal agent.”

  “Because he saw me at the hotel?”

  “Yes. We all have targets on our back.”

  “I’m not running away. This is my job.” It wasn’t—not this specific case—but it felt like it. “Matt, dammit, I’m not sitting on my ass when there’s a cop killer out there.”

  “Understood. Forensics just finished processing the Richmond house and is heading to Hamilton’s house near the university. Agent Harris is taking the lead there. I’m finishing up here at the station, then will head to the FBI war room. I have two officers watching the hotel for signs of Hamilton, but I would feel better if Ryder had backup, plus he’s going over all Hamilton’s financials.”

  “That I can help with. Only one person?”

  “No, Ryder is working with HQ on the financials, but he’s point. We think Hamilton has another car, and everything he owns seems to be under one of multiple shell corps. Ryder has now identified three different paper companies.”

  “Not my strength, but I can take some of the load off.”

  “I’ll call Ryder and tell him to expect you.”

  “It’ll be at least twenty minutes—the roads are shit.”

  “You’re not alone.”

  He sounded angry.

  “No, Costa, I got the memo.”

  “You need to be extra careful. He knows you’re a cop.”

  “I don’t have a death wish,” she said, and ended the call.

  49

  Spokane

  8:45 p.m.

  Matt left SPD later than he planned. Packard, though pompous and controlling, had proved that he would do what it took to keep his men and women safe. The foul weather had created other issues—traffic accidents, power outages—but Packard partnered with the Sheriff’s department to ensure that he had a full contingent of officers through the night.

  Matt didn’t think that Hamilton would go for Maddox at the police station though he realized the clock was ticking for the sick bastard. But it would be suicide, and like Catherine said, Hamilton had a self-preservation streak. Liberty Lake PD was dealing with their own issues, much of it grief related. Andy Knolls had been the heart and soul of that department and his death was tearing it apart. But they vowed to keep an eye on Maddox’s house in case Hamilton returned for an encore. Matt had finally met the police chief, Pierce Dunn, earlier when he sat down with Andy’s fiancée. That had been awkward. Dunn was every bit the doofus Andy had implied, and it was clear no one was really in charge with Andy gone.

  But Matt didn’t think that Hamilton would return because there was no one in Liberty Lake he could target. Still—Catherine felt that any cop was in potential danger if Hamilton couldn’t get to Maddox, and she didn’t count Andy’s death as the final act.

  “He killed him in a rage, in a need to escape. It wouldn’t be satisfying for him in the sense of any completion of his pattern.”

  Matt wasn’t as certain, and he feared that Hamilton had slipped away in a vehicle they didn’t know about, leaving the city before the storm really hit. He’d taken his laptop and left Spokane. If that were the case, they would be stuck. No one would feel truly safe until they found him, and it would take far more time.

  Where the hell did he go?

  Matt hated not knowing. He wasn’t as good as Catherine at getting into the criminal mind, but he was good enough. With this guy, he wasn’t certain. Catherine thought he was nearby. Matt felt he had been too smart, too methodical to sacrifice himself now just because he wanted Maddox dead.

  Catherine had always told him he thought too logically in situations like this.

  “You have to think like your suspect. You have to recognize they’ll have different priorities, and while self-preservation is usually important, it’s not always the most important.”


  Matt arrived at the hotel at nine. His driver, a seasoned officer, was staying until midnight, meeting up with the four officers who were on duty outside the hotel. At that point he’d be on for twelve straight hours. No one wanted to take a break—not when they were now looking for a cop killer—but they had to, or someone was going to make a mistake.

  He went immediately up to the war room. Ryder was there, but not Kara.

  “Detective Quinn should have been here over an hour ago,” Matt said.

  “She was—she went to the manager’s office about twenty minutes ago to review the security video.”

  “Why?”

  “The pictures you found at Hamilton’s place. Since he was here on Saturday night, she thought he might have returned.”

  “Why the hell would he return knowing that the FBI is here?”

  “Dr. Esteban called in and said he’s staying at the lab all night. They’re processing the evidence from the Richmond house, and the ME is performing Detective Knolls’s autopsy tonight. He said he’d sleep in the break room, and the facility is secure.”

  “It is. I was there.”

  “And Harris will be back by ten—the secondary crime team is nearly done with Hamilton’s residence. They’re leaving a unit behind in case he returns.”

  “Have we heard anything about Eric Tolliver? He was still in surgery when I left SPD.”

  “No change, but the boy who was hit this morning is stable. He has a hairline fracture on his skull, concussion, and a broken arm and rib. They’re keeping him for a couple of days to make sure there’s no swelling on the brain, but the doctors are optimistic that he’ll make a full recovery.”

  “Glad we have some good news.”

  “I took the liberty of reserving Detective Quinn a room for the night.”

  Matt hadn’t even thought of it. And he couldn’t very well tell Ryder that she could stay in Matt’s room.

  Instead, he said, “Appreciate it.” He sat down and grabbed a stack of printouts. “What am I looking for here?”

  “Those are Hamilton’s personal financials. The lab at Quantico flagged everything they thought potentially could help. I’m going through the corporations now.”