A Steep Price (The Tracy Crosswhite Series Book 6)

by Robert Dugoni

  Tenants living on the fifth floor had been told to stay inside their apartments, and none seemed too intent on disobeying that order. FIT investigators would eventually question every one of them about what they had seen and heard. In the interim, police officers flooded the hallway, the lobby, and the parking lot, along with the throng of brass, which was expected in any officer-involved shooting, particularly with a federal monitor all over their collective ass.

  And that looked like it would be a significant problem. Faz had not found a gun beneath or anywhere near Eduardo Lopez’s body.

  After clearing the neighbor’s apartment, Faz had stepped into the hall to call Billy Williams. He’d given his sergeant a shortened version of the events. Billy had come to the apartment building to take command as the ranking officer. He’d also had the presence of mind to call Anderson-Cooper and have them quickly secure a warrant to search Lopez’s apartment. Williams’s command lasted until Andrew Laub, the Violent Crime Section’s on-duty lieutenant, arrived. Upon confirming a fatality from an officer-involved shooting, Laub called FIT.

  FIT’s sole function was to investigate whether the force used had been justified, and to provide a report to SPD’s Force Review Board. Before the Justice Department’s mandate, Violent Crime detectives investigated officer-involved shootings. The new FIT unit, therefore, was a clear indication that the Justice Department did not trust them to be objective, which put the two units immediately at odds. FIT investigators had never discharged their weapons, and Faz and the other homicide investigators knew that until you had been through that experience, you couldn’t possibly comprehend the games the mind could play on an officer. In the midst of such a stressful situation, the officer often saw things that were either not there or that were different from what the officer thought she’d perceived. They didn’t understand how a detective’s mind could fill in blanks while struggling to make sense of an often senseless situation. Faz didn’t dislike the FIT investigators; like most of the detectives in Violent Crimes he considered them good people performing a shitty job while being highly scrutinized. But that didn’t mean he trusted them either.

  At present, Laub, Williams, and Johnny Nolasco stood inside Lopez’s crowded apartment while FIT investigators questioned Andrea Gonzalez. The FIT lieutenant had already confiscated Gonzalez’s weapon and performed a round count. He would also determine if both the firearm and the ammunition were department approved. That was the least of Gonzalez’s troubles.

  Shooting an unarmed man would be the real shit storm.

  And that was the reason for the warrant to search Lopez’s apartment. Now more than ever, they needed to find a .38 and pray that gun barrel matched the bullet that killed Monique Rodgers. Killing an unarmed guilty man was a problem. Killing an unarmed innocent man was much worse.

  Faz and Gonzalez would both be required to give tape recorded statements and to complete written reports before they could go home. They would then be put on administrative leave and required to meet with a mental health professional before being considered for reinstatement to active duty. For some officers, that process could take more than a year. Then, when the officer did return, they would learn that they’d been assigned to a different unit, creating a stigma of wrongdoing, despite the exoneration.

  Faz had called Vera, knowing the story would be broadcast on the evening news. He told her he was fine but had another long night ahead of him, and she should not wait up. When he asked how she was doing she said, “Fine.” She did not elaborate.

  Faz heard the elevator ping and looked down the hallway to see what fool had stepped aboard and the expression on that person’s face when they got off. Del walked off gingerly, one hand clasped over his nose and mouth. He had a wide-eyed look of horror that made Faz laugh, despite the circumstances. To shorten the distance, and not be in view of the brass talking to Gonzalez inside the apartment, Faz met him halfway down the hall.

  “Good Lord and Savior, Faz, what the hell is that smell? I thought the body was in the elevator.”

  Faz smiled. “I would have warned you if I’d known you were coming.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have,” Del said.

  “No, I probably wouldn’t have,” Faz agreed.

  The levity between two men who’d been through a lot during the past twenty years was a welcome release of nervous tension. “Are you okay?” Del asked.

  “I think I’m doing better than you.” Faz pointed at Del’s shoes, which didn’t match. One loafer was a darker shade of brown. “You get dressed in the dark?”

  “I can hardly bend over. At least they’re both brown,” Del said. “Seriously, are you okay?”

  Faz nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I got a ringing in my ears and a massive headache, but I think that’s more from anticipating the amount of paperwork, interviews, and bullshit they’re going to throw my way.”

  “What happened? Billy wouldn’t tell me anything.”

  Faz looked down the hall to be sure no one was approaching. “I really don’t know.” He pointed. “I was standing right there, facing the door to Lopez’s apartment. Gonzalez was on the other side. Next thing I know her eyes get as wide as saucers and she’s shoving me into that wall. She fired three times. Bam, bam, bam.”

  “Wait, so where was Lopez?”

  “The apartment next door.”

  “What was he doing there?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Was he armed?”

  Faz shook his head.

  “Oh shit. Are you sure it’s Lopez?” Del asked, looking at the covered body.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “That isn’t going to play well with the Justice Department. We’d better hope ballistics can match a gun with the bullet that killed Monique Rodgers. It will help, but it won’t solve the problem, not for Gonzalez. What did Gonzalez say? Why’d she shoot?”

  “She said she saw something silver in Lopez’s hand and thought he was taking aim at the back of my head. Turns out it was a cell phone.”

  Del rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Well, that’s something, I guess.”

  “I guess,” Faz said. “But not having Lopez creates a bigger problem, even if they find a gun and match it to the shooting.”

  “It isn’t the same as a confession,” Del said.

  “And it doesn’t tell us why he did it,” Faz said, “or if he was acting on orders. Little Jimmy is the guy we want.”

  Faz looked down the hall as Larry Pinnacle, a FIT investigator, exited the apartment and approached. Pinnacle greeted Del, then spoke to Faz. “We’re ready to head back to Park 95. We’re going to need to get a statement before you go off duty.”

  Faz nodded. “Understood.”

  As Pinnacle departed, Del said, “That’s one guy I never cared for.”

  “He’s all right,” Faz said.

  “How’s Vera?”

  “Weepy. It’s been tough on her. Late nights like this aren’t helping.”

  “You want me to stop by, tell her what’s happening?”

  “I called. She’s okay.”

  “Hey, Faz, I want you to know that I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

  “I know you are. Shit happens. Don’t worry about it.”

  Faz looked down the hall toward the sound of voices that were increasing in volume. The group had moved from inside the apartment to the hallway. Gonzalez turned her head and looked to where Faz and Del stood, just a passing glance before she returned her attention to her interrogators.

  “Rough way to start out in a new department,” Faz said.

  “She might be going home before she ever got started,” Del said.

  CHAPTER 27

  Tracy knew logistics would be the CSI investigators’ biggest hurdle. It wasn’t like they could just plug in a light to an electrical circuit in one of the trees. CSI had a van that provided power, but there was no way to get the van to the grave site, which was how Tracy now thought of the hole in the ground. CSI’s only option was
to haul generators to the site, a difficult and time-consuming process. Once accomplished, the investigators expanded the perimeter Pryor had marked with yellow crime scene tape. Anyone who breached this designated area would be required to sign a log-in sheet. Next, they’d erected a tent over the grave, and attached lights to the tent’s interior framework, enough light to illuminate the site like an archaeological dig for some lost treasure.

  Tracy wished it were so.

  CSI did all of this while trying not to disturb the trails leading to the hole any more than Tracy and Pryor already had. Kaylee Wright arrived and worked with the CSI investigators to reestablish Katie Pryor’s walking path to the grave site, designated with red tape. Anyone who crossed that tape would have to complete a statement, which was a way to keep the brass from venturing too close to the crime scene. Not that the brass was going to be a problem this night, not with the majority of them flocking to the officer-involved shooting in South Park.

  Once she’d reestablished the walking path, Wright used a powerful beam of light to examine the area surrounding the grave, the trails leading to it, and the main walking paths into and out of the park. She was trying to detect patterns, footprints leading to and from the hole, veering off course suddenly, or signs of an altercation, like trampled plants and disturbed soil. CSI would also take a healthy number of photographs and, where possible, cast any shoeprints found.

  After Katie Pryor had provided elimination prints of the soles of her work boots, Tracy sent her home. Pryor had protested, but with Kins present, and the missing person having now become a possible homicide, Pryor was no longer needed, though that was not why Tracy sent her home. She sent Pryor home to be with her family.

  Kelly Rosa arrived and quickly climbed down a ladder with a CSI photographer to document the grave site and the body’s relationship to it. Rosa’s first order of business, however, was to confirm a death and to obtain positive identification. Next, she sketched the position of the body relative to the hole. After documenting the site in photographs, Rosa turned her analysis to determining whether Kavita Mukherjee was the victim of a homicide, an unfortunate accident, or had taken her own life.

  As this work went on, and although a significant number of police and forensic personnel were present, the site remained respectfully quiet, as if a pall of sadness had descended over the forest, disturbed only by the hum of the generators and occasional hushed voices.

  Tracy heard footsteps, and she and Kins backed away from the hole and met Kaylee Wright on the designated path. A senior crime analyst, Wright was about the same age and height as Tracy, but with dark hair and a darker complexion. She carried a pencil and stack of blue index cards on which she’d document the size and shape of each shoeprint found. Her face remained a practiced mask, revealing little about her findings. She kept her voice soft. “I can’t say anything definitive, yet.”

  “But you’re picking up something,” Tracy said, knowing Wright well enough to make the inference.

  Wright frowned. “Maybe. I’ve been all over the two main trails.” She checked notes she’d taken. “The Coyote Trail and the Trillium Trail.” She used a pencil on a trail map to crudely identify the location of the two trails and the footpath leading from them to the hole in the ground. “Never thought I’d say this in Seattle, but the prolonged week of warm weather and lack of rain make it tough to find any definitive shoeprints. Usually there are periods in the day—early morning and late evening, in which there is enough moisture in the air that the sole of the shoe will leave an impression. I’m just not finding anything much. I can say that a lot of people have been through here, some on horseback.”

  “What about the victim? Have you found her shoeprints anywhere near the hole?” Tracy asked. Wright shook her head. “No. And it’s a fairly specific sole pattern—a flat, casual walking shoe. If it was around here, I’d recognize it.”

  “Not exactly the kind of shoe a person wears to walk through a heavily wooded park,” Kins said.

  “No. It’s not.” Wright shuffled through her deck of blue cards and showed them the image of the shoe she had drawn. “It’s made by American Rag. See the distinct sole pattern?”

  Tracy did—four more or less square treads from the top of the toe to the ball of the foot. Eight total squares. “And you’re not finding that pattern anywhere along the footpath leading to the hole or around it?” she asked, hoping it meant the body had been moved.

  Wright shook her head. “Not on the footpath and not around the hole. However, I did find the print on both the Trillium and on the Coyote Trail, indicating she was headed in this direction.”

  “So, we know that she walked into the park,” Kins said.

  “At least for part of the way,” Wright said.

  “What do you mean?” Tracy asked.

  “She was running for another part.”

  “She was being chased?” Tracy asked.

  Wright shook her head. “She started out walking, but at some point, based on her elongated stride, she started to run. Then she stopped. I found her footprints on the trail facing in all different directions. I didn’t find any other footprints to indicate she was running from someone.”

  “But she stopped and was, what, turning in a circle?”

  “It appears so.”

  “She could have gotten lost,” Kins said. “She could have been trying to reorient herself.”

  Tracy shook her head. “Aditi said they knew this park well. She could have thought she heard something,” Tracy said. “That would cause her to run in the first place. She might have heard something and took off running, then stopped—either to catch her breath or to look around for anyone following her.”

  “But you’re not finding any footprints of someone giving chase?” Kins said.

  “No. And there is just the one set of footprints when she stops and turns.”

  “But no footprints around the perimeter of the hole?” Tracy asked again for clarification.

  “Not hers.”

  “You would expect to find her print, wouldn’t you?” Tracy prompted.

  “I would if she walked or ran over there. Even if she fell into the hole, I’d expect to find a shoeprint or a partial shoeprint somewhere around the perimeter. For example, I found Katie Pryor’s prints where she stepped and lost her footing, and I found your shoeprint. I also found a flat shoeprint, but only a partial. I’m not sure it’s going to be of much help.”

  “So the logical deduction from the lack of her shoeprint near the hole is that while she may have walked into the park, and at some point started running, for whatever reason, she didn’t walk or run to the hole,” Kins said.

  “No evidence to indicate she did,” Wright said.

  “So we can rule out that she fell into the hole while running,” Tracy said.

  “No evidence she did,” Wright said. “On its own, it’s not much, but if Kelly determines the victim didn’t die from falling into that hole, the lack of any shoeprints would certainly support the argument that she was killed someplace else in the park and her body dumped in the hole.”

  Kins glanced at Tracy. She knew he was thinking that if Wright was accurate, the killer had to have known the hole existed and hadn’t just blindly stumbled upon it while looking to discard a body. It also meant they might not get the chance to figure out what had happened. Bellevue would rightfully take jurisdiction.

  Wright turned again, this time to the illuminated tent. “I looked closely at the branches covering the hole. I didn’t see where any of them had snapped or been broken—other than those Pryor broke when she fell through. I’m also not finding any hair or clothing fibers. And Kelly said an initial review of the decedent’s clothing did not reveal any rips or snags. I’d like to look more closely, under magnification, and I’d also like to look at the branches under natural light before I reach any conclusions.”

  “You’re saying that if she did fall into the hole you’d expect to find some evidence of it,” Kins said.
>
  Wright nodded. “Right now I’m just not finding any.”

  “So Pryor’s falling was fortuitous, in terms of the evidence you’d expect to find,” Kins said.

  “It’s certainly evidence that a healthy individual would grab whatever was around them to try to keep from dropping into the hole—and we’d find snapped branches and disturbed leaves.”

  “Whereas, if somebody dumped the body they could have been careful to move the branches to ensure it didn’t look disturbed,” Tracy said.

  “That’s at least a working hypothesis,” Wright said.

  “Then they had to have known the hole was there,” Kins reiterated, “which would imply they had familiarity with the park. Any indication anyone came back to try and fill in the hole?”

  “No tool marks to indicate that was the case,” Wright said.

  Tracy nodded to the stack of cards in Wright’s hand. “Anything else of interest?”

  Wright shook her head. “Not at present, though, again, I’d like to have another look in daylight. The trails have been well used and the darkness doesn’t help. As I said, I found disturbed prints of people walking and jogging, and horse hooves, but nothing definitive.”

  “No prints to indicate someone or some persons carried a body here?” Tracy asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “So, what we have is what we don’t have,” Tracy said. “We don’t have broken branches or foliage to indicate the victim fell into the hole. We don’t have snagged hair or clothing fibers, and we don’t have the victim’s shoeprints near the hole.”

  “All true,” Wright said.

  “But we do have the victim’s prints on the designated trails to indicate she voluntarily walked into the park and at some point started running in this direction.”

  “Correct,” Wright said.

  “Maybe she was meeting someone, someone who knew the park as well as she knew it,” Kins said.

  Tracy thought of Aditi.

  “I’ll come back out tomorrow morning in daylight and recheck everything,” Wright said. “How long will we have the site?”