Vegas Rain

by Rick Murcer

  “Hey, Josh. I thought you were still in those brown-nosing sessions.”

  “Funny, Williams. I’m not going to be doing those anymore, but more on that later.”

  The sound of the jet was low but noticeable.

  “Why are you on the jet?”

  “That’s why we called. There’s been a change of plans, and Alex and I are on the way out. We’re probably three hours away or so.”

  Manny didn’t care for how that sounded and just who was we? He supposed he already knew.

  “Alex and you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to his surgery?”

  “Again, we’ll fill you in. I just wanted to let you know we’ll be in town and ready to dive in, if you don’t already have it all handled.”

  Handled? He felt his doubt rise to another level. He prayed the members of the BAU weren’t the ones going to be handled. Taking Argyle out of the equation made it more unpredictable and more dangerous in Manny’s eyes.

  “Let’s just say we could use the help.”

  Josh hesitated. “That wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement for solving this thing.”

  “It’s not. We’ll explain everything when you get here, if all hell hasn’t broken loose by then.”

  “We’ll hurry. And hold back those gates of hell for a bit. Okay?”

  He started to answer when Josh’s phone cut out and the connection went dead. It wasn’t unusual to lose the signal flying at thirty thousand feet, and it could be a while before the signal was strong enough again. It didn’t matter really. They both knew what was happening on each other’s end. That would have to do for now.

  Dialing Chloe’s number, he waited for her to answer.

  She didn’t.

  He glanced at the phone to make sure he’d hit the right speed-dial number. Chloe’s name stared back at him. He called again, same result. He tried to ignore the sense of uneasiness. He could count on one hand the times she hadn’t answered when he called over the last few months.

  Maybe she was in the shower or her phone was dead. Or—

  The text screen popped up, and Chloe’s message with it.

  Sorry. I’m in the library doing research. Text me that you’re okay and I’ll call later. I love you.

  He smiled. She was already working hard. No surprise there. What was surprising was how much relief he’d felt when the text came in. Next to love, worry was the number one emotion most people felt. He’d vouch for that. The Guardian of the Universe was an expert on worry.

  He typed that he was all right and he’d call when he could. Then he sat down at the table and waited. He wasn’t sure what was going on with Josh and Alex, but he knew they had good reasons for leaving DC and coming to Vegas. And they could use the help.

  Looking down at the table, he pulled Dean’s drawing closer, studying it. He then flipped open the first murder file and began to go over the details of the man’s body found in the garbage bin near the Egyptian. The images were, at best, gruesome. The killer had no qualms about what he was doing and how. He looked at the next folder with the young woman, Paige Madison. Her death had been less violent and more staged. He guessed it was to make sure the phone was the focus. He then went over what they had on the woman found as a modern-day mummy—whatever limited amount of information was there, that is. He shook his head. Again, not as frenzied, in a sense, but the message was far more pronounced than either of the others—with the exception of the two bodies in the casket in Michigan.

  The killer was all over the place. Smart, sloppy, brazen, covert, careful, and unpredictable. Each description covered at least one aspect of his spree.

  The idea that the killer was trying to be caught came to him again. But that was rare for killers of this nature. “Who are you and what are you doing?” he whispered.

  CHAPTER-49

  Entering the open balcony gave him a fresh, clean taste of the early-morning desert air. The arid environment served to clear his head a bit more, and he welcomed it. Today would be a day of days, and he’d waited long enough for the culmination of his efforts to come to fruition.

  Patience was many things, but a virtue? He didn’t think so. No matter. Today would end the way he’d dreamed it would.

  After another deep breath, he stepped the rest of the way through the tinted glass door and stood near the railing, glancing down to the street some twenty stories below. The people moving on both sides looked like ants and he thought that appropriate. Piss ants, to be exact. They all deserved to receive what they’d earned, literally and figuratively; shitty lives and slavery to some meaningless job for years on end. For what? To simply live a few more years in pain and misery, riding the wave of medications designed to help them fight any assortment of maladies.

  Damn fools. Most people had the power to exercise a new future for themselves, but would never realize it, as he had. Instead, they’d follow the trail of their peers and predecessors.

  So be it.

  “As they say, more for me,” he said out loud.

  Moving back inside his room, he sat in one of the high-backed chairs that resembled an Egyptian throne and began, again, to go over the day’s “activities.”

  He suspected that the rest of the BAU was on the way west. Frankly, he was surprised it had taken this long. Each member of that unit had a loyalty button molded in the shape of Agent Williams’s face and was easily pushed. Corner and Downs simply couldn’t help themselves. He had a contingency plan in the event he was mistaken, but he didn’t think he’d need it. After all, men like him weren’t wrong often, particularly when it came to human nature.

  The scent of his dark-roast coffee demanded his attention, and he lifted the cup from the ornate glass coffee table and indulged, nodding his approval.

  No doubt, by now, Williams had drawn some obvious conclusions, and some not so obvious. There were too many inconsistencies in the FBI’s view of this case to ignore. He supposed if they had already gotten a look at the video footage Williams would suspect that Doctor Fredrick Argyle wasn’t part of this frolic in Vegas.

  All of the evidence would contradict any other conclusion. After all, one’s senses are unfailing and in a real truth, don’t lie, right?

  Careful little eyes what you see. Careful little ears what you hear. Careful little minds what you think.

  He laughed loudly.

  “You may need to rethink that one, Special Agent Williams. Rethink it indeed.”

  Setting the coffee cup on the table, he gazed at the other man seated in the chair opposite him.

  He appeared to be a little under the weather, perhaps a little worn out, yet his inspiration, his mentor, his counsel had offered him far more than most men deserved. He was grateful for that.

  Taking another draw from his cup, he lifted it and toasted the man sitting opposite him. “Thank you for your help,” he said.

  The silent, powerful grin was brilliant. And all of the encouragement he needed to finish what he’d started.

  Finally.

  CHAPTER-50

  The forensics tech switched off the video feed spilling from the computer, controlling what Manny, Sophie, Dean, and Agent Wilkins had watched for the fourth time. She moved to the wall and switched the lights on, leaving the room.

  “I think you pissed her off, Williams. My God, man, how many times do you need to see something before you get it?” asked Sophie.

  She was being a smartass to cover her discomfort with what they’d seen on the three DVDs . . . well, on at least two of them. Manny wouldn’t have expected anything different.

  He managed a smile. “You know how visual men are, right?”

  “Yeah, I get that. But usually it has to do with some woman’s ass or a set of killer knockers like mine. Not surveillance videos.”

  His smile became more genuine. “You know, I don’t think you should sugarcoat things. Just tell me what you think, okay?”

  Her eyes darted in Dean’s direction, over to Wilkins, and th
en back to Manny. She returned his grin. “Good one, Williams. I’m not the only smartass in the room.”

  “Maybe, but I had to be sure what we were seeing. And I’m still not.”

  “Me either,” said Agent Wilkins.

  Dean was nodding. “I don’t think the video at the street corner helped much. It was too grainy and dark. The only thing we can say for sure was that a car similar to the green Jaguar went south when we were going north at approximately the same moment Agent Frost was shot. That’s my take.”

  “But that new software program can clean that up, right?” asked Manny.

  “It can,” said Dean. “But I think it would be a miracle to clear it up so much as to give us a definitive look at the driver. We’ll get a better look at the plate, but—”

  “The plate and the car are probably stolen anyway, at least that’s how I’d do it,” said Sophie.

  “Good point. We’ll get Agent Wilkin’s staff on it anyway,” said Manny.

  Manny bowed his head, closed his eyes, and went over the other two security videos in his mind one last time before they discussed what was there, or what they assumed was there. He thought he knew what he saw, what was said, but he wanted to be completely sure of himself before he asked someone else to do the same.

  The video from the FBI’s office had confirmed what Agent Wilkins and Detective Teachout had said about their attacker. While it was difficult to ferret out things like weight and height from a video, perspective with other objects in the hallway and office helped tremendously. But he hadn’t needed any of those things. He’d never forget Argyle’s gait, his swagger, his arrogance reflected in every step he took. The man in this video had some of that, but as Manny had suspected, the man was shorter and more bulky. Manny also couldn’t put a finger on his walk or any other mannerisms this killer might subconsciously expose to a profiler. He probably had done it on purpose. Manny would have.

  He wasn’t Argyle, but he could be as dangerous because of his unpredictability.

  The video in the Egyptian was far more unsettling and, as fate would have it, more difficult to unravel. That made his stomach clench. He just couldn’t rule Argyle out of that one, at least right now. The close-up of the man’s face said he could be the Good Doctor, or it had been a hell of a makeup job. What he’d mouthed directly into the camera forced that possibility.

  Looking up, he saw three sets of eyes pointed in his direction. It occurred to him, once again, how the eyes were sometimes better at expressing questions than the mouth.

  “Sorry. Just getting ready for your input on the other two videos. I need to make sure I saw what I saw,” he explained.

  “. . . and we saw what we saw,” said Sophie.

  “That’s right. So have at it. Let’s talk about the one here in this office,” said Manny. “Agent Wilkins?”

  “I’ve never met Fredrick Argyle, so I’m worthless regarding that. All I know is that the guy on this video is the man who walked into my office and screwed up my morning. There’s just nothing there that changes that or adds to what I saw. He walked in like he was God and it seems he left the same way,” she said, her voice growing louder.

  Manny suspected it may be a while before the vivid memory of her attacker would fade enough to allow her a good night’s sleep.

  He knew that one.

  “Thanks. Dean?”

  He shrugged. “I have even less input than Kim. I only see what’s on the video. But I will say that I’m sure he’s wearing a disguise. The hat is low, causing his wig to pull up around the back of his neck. His mustache and sideburns are a little much too. They just didn’t seem to fit the color or the shape of his face.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not until we get an analysis of any fibers or hair the forensics staff may have located,” said Dean.

  “Okay, Sophie, it’s you and me. Fire away,” said Manny.

  “Nice choice of words, Williams. I’d love to take this bastard out. Anyway, I think, judging by his walk and mannerisms that I agree with you. This isn’t Argyle. As much as I was convinced it had to be, I know it’s not. So I got past that and tried to see if there was anything else about this unsub that I recognized. There wasn’t really,” said Sophie. “He’s right-handed, even though he backhanded Detective Teachout with his left. I—” Throwing up her hands, she sat back in her chair. “I tried Manny, I just don’t see anything else.”

  “I’m almost at that stage. He was all the things we talked of regarding his arrogance, etcetera, and I didn’t see anything about his appearance that made me think it was Argyle. I like what Dean said about his disguise. Not much doubt there. I will say that I think he walked a bit slower than Argyle. Either wasn’t in a hurry or maybe he had something wrong with his leg.”

  “Or he wanted us to think that,” said Agent Wilkins.

  “That’s true. So I think we can agree on ruling out one suspect—Argyle—which of course puts us back at square one with who and why,” said Manny. “But we can clear up the why.”

  “Please enlighten us, Special Agent. Because the only reason I can think of is to make sure you got a good look at his puss and that I backed it up with an eyewitness account,” said Agent Wilkins.

  Turning his hands over and laying them flat on the table, Manny nodded slowly. “I’m afraid that’s the only reason I can think of as well, Agent Wilkins. It wasn’t just that he could do what he did, he wanted to make sure you could describe him.”

  “But wouldn’t the damn video be enough?” asked Sophie.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” said Dean. “Why make sure Kim can verify everything about him?”

  “I have a thought, but let’s talk of the footage from the casino first,” said Manny.

  “I’ll go. Looks like the same guy who attacked me,” said Agent Wilkins. “Everything about his face, although the video quality isn’t quite as good . . . I’d say it was him.”

  “I’d agree,” said Dean.

  “Me too,” said Sophie. “The only difference I see is the angle of the camera. He was looking almost straight up in the casino, and it’s more like just above eye level in this building.”

  Manny glanced down at his notes and drew a ring around the last word in the last sentence. They were right, almost. He believed he saw a little more than that, something a tinge different. Then again, his old baby blues could be playing tricks on him. Or maybe the camera was just unfocused enough.

  “Agent Wilkins, can you call the tech back in? I want to see location twelve fifty-five on that video.”

  Dean stood up. “I can get us there. This is like the equipment we had in Los Angeles. The question is why?”

  “I’ll show you when you get there, but I think I saw something else. I’ll let you decide.”

  “Damn, Williams. Did we miss something?” asked Sophie.

  “Maybe not. I just want to make sure. I was looking for it so that might be the reason I saw it, or assumed I did. I’d tell you but I want you without prejudice when you look for yourselves.”

  “Without prejudice, huh? That’s just funny when it comes to you and this job,” said Sophie.

  He raised his eyebrows. “What? Why?”

  “Because you’re my hero, and I believe everything you say,” she said, grinning and then batting her eyes.

  “Okay, smartass, pay attention. I’ve been wrong far more than you think and I’m not getting any younger, so it could be anything,” he said, returning her grin.

  “I’m almost there,” said Dean.

  A moment later, the screen flashed an image they’d seen several times before—the killer mouthing his message. Then Dean stopped it at twelve fifty-five to display a still-life image.

  “First things first: we’re in agreement with what he is mouthing here, right?”

  “I got ‘One never knows, Agent Williams,’” said Agent Wilkins.

  Dean and Sophie nodded their agreement.

  “Okay. I’m getting a little sick of hearing tha
t because this guy’s full of shit. I’m tired of hearing that line. One does know, I think that’s right. I also think it’s overkill and Argyle would have come up with something else more personal by this time.”

  “Okay. Then why are we here at this spot in the video again?” asked Sophie.

  “Look closely at the image. Focus on his left cheek. Do you see that?”

  At first, no one said anything. Then Sophie, followed by Dean, moved away from the table, and Sophie reached out and touched the screen.

  It was hard to ignore the crescent-shaped shadow on the left side of the killer’s face.

  CHAPTER-51

  “Shit, Manny. Is that a scar?” asked Sophie, stepping back from the screen.

  “You tell me,” he said.

  “It looks like it might be, but it could also be a shadow or a piece of dust on the lens of the casino’s camera,” said Dean.

  “I don’t think so, Dean. It looks like it’s on his face,” said Agent Wilkins. “I can tell you this, he had no such mark when we had our prayer meeting. It could be a fake.”

  “It could be,” whispered Manny.

  Staring at the half-moon located on the killer’s face, Manny let his mind shift gears and run crazy.

  All along, this man had been messing with them, intentionally for the most part, but at other times, Manny didn’t think so. Both types of actions were a byproduct of this man’s personality, his profile. Consistency sandwiched within inconsistency.

  He moved to the screen and ran his finger along the scar. It fit and didn’t fit. He stepped back and was struck with an odd memory.

  When Jen had been four, she’d discovered that she could tell Louise one thing and do another by going to Manny and telling him momma said it was okay. Thus telling the truth that Momma had said it was okay, but her version wasn’t quite the same. At one point, after that had happened a few times, she came to Manny and had said that Louise had told her she could go play in the snow by herself because she was becoming a big girl. He’d thought it odd, so Manny had taken her by the hand and sought out Louise, believing a four-year-old was too young to be out alone.