Thick Fog (Alexis Parker Book 18)

by G. K. Parks

“To check on something.”

  He nodded. “O’Connell go with her.”

  “Yes, sir,” O’Connell said, appearing in the doorway of the conference room. He crossed the bullpen and grabbed his jacket.

  “How did things go with Renee?” I asked.

  “She doesn’t know anything. She never heard of the KXDs or Francisco Steele. That happened years after she and Jablonsky split. What we actually wanted to know was if she’d ever been to his townhouse or if she knew about the spare key or if any of his neighbors had a key or access to his place.”

  “I doubt she’d know. Martin doesn’t even know that.”

  “Yeah, but we still had to ask,” O’Connell said. “When we called her in today, I think we scared the living daylights out of her. She kept apologizing for going to the hospital and the allegations she made. Just thought you’d like to know.”

  “I don’t get it.” I eyed him curiously. “You know what else I don’t get is why Moretti put two detectives on that. Your time could be better spent elsewhere.”

  “In that case, it’s a good thing he hired a consultant.” O’Connell waited until we were out of the building and inside his car before he said, “Moretti wants us to keep an eye on Heathcliff and keep him inside and out of trouble. So we conducted the interview and pulled up the profiles on the KXDs for him to go over again. Steele wants Derek dead. We don’t have any doubts about that. It’s just a matter of time, so the busier we keep Heathcliff, the safer he’ll be. He doesn’t do well when he gets antsy, just like someone else I know.”

  “Derek’s not stupid. He must realize what’s going on.”

  “Regardless, he has a job to do. And unlike you, he almost always follows orders.” O’Connell looked at me over the rim of his sunglasses. “So don’t be a bad influence on him right now. We want to keep him safe, even if that means he stays behind a desk.”

  “Hey, I would never intentionally jeopardize his safety.”

  “I know. But I also know he’d do just about anything for you.” O’Connell stared out the windshield. “We all would.”

  “I don’t want you to. I didn’t ask you to. That’s not fair, Nick. Don’t put that on me.”

  “I wasn’t. I was just…”

  “Fine. Whatever. Look, I’m following orders. See? Moretti told me to find out where Steele’s hiding. That’s what I’m doing.”

  “Not by yourself. Steele’s dangerous, Parker. You’re on the hit list too.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  O’Connell pointed a finger in my face. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re a police consultant. You can’t make an arrest, so before you go anywhere, you take one of us with you, got it?”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “I’m serious. What happens if you find Steele and one of us isn’t around to make the arrest?”

  I’d probably kill him. But that was a knee-jerk reaction. And too dark of a thought to contemplate, despite the fact it might be the truth. Instead, I bit my tongue before the words left my mouth. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Oh. I thought it was because my car’s at the hospital.”

  He chuckled. “That too.”

  Sixteen

  I stood inside Cooper’s apartment. The scene had been cleared and released. Police tape still hung across the door, but that didn’t deter us. We had clearance to be here.

  From the living room window, I searched the street below for a vantage point. Then I looked at the buildings across the way to see which windows had unobstructed views. “We should get a list of tenants in that building,” I pointed to the only one with a clear line of sight into Cooper’s apartment. “Steele might have had a spotter.”

  “Do you think Cooper left the blinds open?” O’Connell asked.

  “Wouldn’t you?” A small part of me felt guilty. If I had done things differently, handled matters differently, Cooper might still be alive right now. “These windows gave him a glimpse of the outside world.”

  “True, but he might have found that depressing.” O’Connell went into the kitchen and looked out the window. “Cooper had been sent to a medium security facility. It’s not like he’d been in solitary.”

  “What about the KXDs? Did any of Steele’s associates serve time with Coop?”

  “Not that I’ve found. It doesn’t look like the attack in prison had anything to do with Steele’s vendetta.”

  “Do you think Steele knows Cooper had been fired from the Bureau and arrested?”

  “I dunno.” O’Connell returned to the living room and stood beside me, making a note of the apartment building’s address and the storefronts across the way.

  I pressed my forehead against the glass to get a better look. At least two of them were empty. One was boarded up.

  “It’s not fair,” I said. “Coop suffered enough. Steele didn’t have to kill him.” My voice caught in my throat. I held my breath and kept my gaze focused on the street below, waiting to regain my composure. A pedestrian turned the corner, passed the storefront, and disappeared from sight.

  Leaving the living room, I went into the bedroom to get a better view of the adjacent street. The boarded-up storefront was situated on the corner. The front faced the living room window, and the side entrance provided a decent view of Cooper’s bedroom. I returned to the living room, doing my best to keep my eyes on O’Connell and not the blood spatter on the walls or the stains on the floor.

  “I have a hunch. Let’s check out that shop.” Not waiting for O’Connell’s protest, I left the apartment.

  O’Connell caught up to me in the stairwell. “The shop is boarded up. Give me a minute to contact the owner. We need permission to check inside.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  We left the apartment building and waited at the crosswalk. Once the walk sign illuminated, we crossed. I scanned the area for surveillance cameras but didn’t spot any in the vicinity. O’Connell read the number off the ‘space for rent’ sign and dialed. While he did that, I circled the shop. The front had been boarded up, except for one corner. I tried to peer inside, but I couldn’t see much on account of the sun’s glare on the dirty window. So I went around to the side. Instead of flimsy boards, these windows had been papered over and several people had taken the liberty of taping flyers to them.

  The advertisements announced the usual services, discounts, and restaurants. From what I could tell, no one had written anything on them. A few flyers had pull tabs at the bottom with phone numbers, so I grabbed one of each, just in case Steele used this as a means of communicating with his associates, and searched for a break in the paper. The paper in one of the panes had been torn away, allowing me to glimpse the interior.

  I cupped my hands around my face and pressed against the glass. From what I could tell, this used to be a dress shop. Naked mannequins and empty clothing racks were shoved against the front window in haphazard piles. Random bits of trash covered the floors, along with a stack of going out of business signs. Just behind the counter, a cot and an army surplus blanket caught my attention, but I couldn’t see anything else from here.

  “The real estate agency is sending someone with the key,” O’Connell said. “Do you want to grab a bite while we wait? I saw a café next to that apartment building you wanted us to check out.”

  “I’ll wait here. We don’t want to miss the guy,” I said.

  But O’Connell wasn’t buying it. “Did you see something inside?”

  “I’m not sure. Someone might have been sleeping behind the counter.”

  “Maybe a homeless guy found a way in.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Parker, we have to wait. Moretti wants everything done by the book.”

  “That’s why I need you to get me a cup of coffee. Maybe something iced. One of those blended drinks with whipped cream and chocolate shavings or whatever takes the longest for the barista to make. I don’t really care. I’ll drink anything.
In fact, don’t rush. Sit down and eat some lunch. You work hard, Nick. You deserve a break.”

  “Alex,” O’Connell warned, “no.”

  “C’mon, just go get some lunch. Coffee. Whatever. We don’t have time to wait for the key. Steele could already be in the midst of killing his next target.”

  O’Connell weighed his options. “I gotta hit the head anyway. You will wait right here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay.” But we both knew it was a lie. However, it was good enough to give the detective plausible deniability. I waited for him to enter the café before I tugged on the shop’s door. Of course it was locked, but it didn’t hurt to check. I pulled out my set of lock picks and went to work. Several people passed me while I manipulated the tools inside the lock, but no one said or did anything. I wondered if they would call the cops.

  When the final tumbler clicked into place, I pulled on the handle and stepped into the shop. It was dark, but the brown paper was thin enough to allow light inside. With gloved hands, I flipped the light switch. The harsh fluorescents only emphasized the dusty, abandoned interior. The eighteen naked mannequins watched as I looked for clues.

  The cot I spotted wasn’t actually a cot. It was a few long benches, probably from the fitting rooms, positioned end to end and side by side to form roughly the same size and shape as a prison bunk. A blanket sat atop the makeshift bed in a heap. One tattered side hung over the edge. I put on a pair of gloves and lifted the blanket, but I didn’t find anything except a ripped cushion which had probably been used as a pillow.

  Next, I checked the bathroom. A rust-colored stain ringed the sink with splatters against the otherwise bright white fixture. I checked the toilet, but the water in the bowl looked clean. The pipes and faucet looked new, so I didn’t think the stains were rust. Blood, perhaps. And if it was blood, was it Cooper’s or Mark’s?

  Since I wouldn’t be able to determine that without assistance from CSU, I left the bathroom and checked the only remaining area in the shop – the dressing room. I tugged open the accordion doors.

  Bloody clothing filled a dirty plastic bag from the Stop N’ Shop. It had been shoved into the corner of the dressing room. I didn’t remove the items from the bag, since that would be considered tampering with evidence, but I poked around inside with the tip of my pen. A switchblade sat on top of the pile. CSU could verify it was the weapon used to kill Cooper, but, in my gut, I already knew that’s what it was.

  I took a breath, trying to calm my rage. Steele killed Cooper and then came here to relish in the aftermath of his handiwork. He probably tore the paper away from the corner window and watched us scramble to save Cooper and find his killer. I hated myself for not realizing how close I’d been to the predator. I could have ended this, if only I had paid more attention. “Dammit.”

  I’d been off my game since the first call. I needed to think. To pay attention. This couldn’t happen again. “All right, Parker, you have to do better.” He must have left some clue behind to indicate his next target. It had to be here. I just had to find it. Resisting the urge to ransack everything, I forced myself to work methodically.

  The plastic bag came from the Stop N’ Shop, just like the bag Steele had taped around Cooper’s head. There was no doubt left. Steele had been there. I called Det. Jacobs and told him to get everything he could out of the clerks and the owner and to search the men’s room and anyplace else Steele might have visited in and around the convenience store. He’d been there, so we needed to know what he did and what he bought.

  After hanging up, I checked behind every nook and cranny, around the fixtures, and in the vents. Steele didn’t leave anything else behind, except his bedding. Carefully, I removed the olive-colored wool blanket from the padded benches and held it up. Nothing. I flipped it over to the other side and shook it out. Still nothing.

  I dropped it to the floor in a heap and focused on the torn cushion. It had come from a chair in the dressing room. The cushion had been sewn into the chair, so when Steele removed it, he had to tear it free. Foam stuffing spilled out of three sides, the commercial fabric barely containing it.

  My phone rang, and I jumped, dropping the cushion onto the row of benches. Cautiously, I pulled out the device, terrified to check the display. Luckily, it was O’Connell.

  “The real estate guy just pulled up. I asked him to meet me inside the café. You said you’d meet us here, right?” O’Connell asked, playing dumb. “Your coffee is waiting for you.”

  “I said I’d meet you outside.” Hanging up, I picked up the blanket and put it back on the benches and hurried out the front door. I didn’t have time to lock the shop again, but I stayed close. Two minutes later, O’Connell and a guy who didn’t look old enough to drive came down the sidewalk. “We need to get inside.”

  O’Connell took the key from the kid, stuck it in the lock, and gave it a turn. After removing the key, he handed it back to the kid and tugged on the handle. The kid tried to step inside, but O’Connell put up an arm. “Sorry. This will only take a minute, but you should wait out here. In case we find something, you don’t want to contaminate the scene.”

  “No, sir,” the kid said, shoving his hands into his pants pockets and making the sides of his sports coat pucker outward. He looked like a little boy playing dress up in his father’s suit. “I’ll wait right here. Give me a holler if you need something.”

  “Thanks.” O’Connell held the door, and I stepped inside. “What does your sixth sense say, Parker?”

  “Start with the dressing rooms.” I pointed to the accordion doors, which I’d forgotten to close. “Then the bathroom sink.” I took a breath. “And lastly, the makeshift bed behind the counter.” I bit my lip while O’Connell crossed the room. “I already called Jacobs and told him to be extra thorough. I have no doubt Steele visited the convenience store before offing Cooper.”

  “He probably wanted to get some snacks and beer.” O’Connell knelt beside the bag, opening it and sifting through the contents with gloved hands. “Looks like we found the knife used to stab Cooper.”

  “I’d call it a murder weapon.”

  “The bag killed him, but this is a contributing factor. CSU will have to analyze the blood and check for prints.”

  “Anything else in there?” I asked.

  O’Connell glanced over his shoulder at me. “Clothing. A pair of men’s jeans, a t-shirt, and a black jacket.”

  “Anything in the pockets?” I asked.

  O’Connell checked each one carefully. “A baggie, empty, but with some white residue.”

  “It’s probably heroin. That’s what Steele had been into.”

  O’Connell called it in, wandering into the bathroom while he spoke on the phone. He came out a few moments later and checked behind the counter. By then, he concluded his call. “Let me tell the realtor we’ll need to hold on to the key for a little while.”

  While he spoke to the kid, I knelt on the floor and peered out the window. It provided an ideal view of Cooper’s apartment building. From here, Steele would have seen everything – the police cars, the ambulance, the FBI vehicles, Cross Security’s team, and me. I wondered how long he stayed here after killing Cooper, just watching and waiting.

  I stood, giving the trash and the crumpled papers in the corners of the room an uncomfortable look. Steele might have jerked off afterward. He had always been unstable. Violence and brutality excited him. It turned him on, so did danger and drugs. And something told me killing only increased the effect. After the way he tortured and killed Cooper, he must have been ready to burst. I shared my theory with Nick when he returned.

  “Sicko.” O’Connell put his hands in his back pockets and looked around. “I didn’t spot any cameras outside the building. I’m guessing Steele didn’t get caught on camera, but it might explain how he easily slipped across the street and up Cooper’s fire escape without getting seen.”

  “What about traffic cams? Or the other shops? Even if they only have
indoor security cams, they might have caught something through the front windows.”

  “It’s worth checking.” O’Connell surveyed the room. “This place is a mess. At least Steele’s DNA is in the system. So are his prints. He must have left something behind that will place him here. We just have to analyze everything, but I bet we’ll find our proof.” O’Connell turned to face me. “Was the door locked?”

  “Yes. You can lock it from the inside if you’re staying inside, but to lock it from the outside, you have to use a key.”

  He checked the lock. “I can see that. So how’d Steele get in and out?” O’Connell went down the hall toward the employee bathroom. “Did you check the emergency exit?”

  “Only that it was locked.” I’d been afraid to open it in case it tripped an alarm.

  O’Connell turned the knob. The exterior didn’t have a handle, just a thin metal plate screwed flat against it to secure the door. Scratch marks marred the paint around the edges of the plate, where someone pried the door open with a metal object. “These look fresh.”

  “Guess we know how he got inside.”

  O’Connell made a note to check the alleyway for surveillance equipment, but I didn’t hold out much hope we’d find anything. And even if we did, what would it matter? Steele had been here, but he wasn’t here now. And he had no reason to return.

  “I wonder if he hung around Jablonsky’s place to watch the aftermath,” I said.

  “Once I sign the scene over, we’ll take a ride and check it out. We’re getting closer. We’ll get him.”

  “Before or after he kills again?” I spun, sucking in air. “This was supposed to lead us to his next target. Instead, all it did was reinforce my worst fear.”

  “What’s that?” O’Connell asked, his voice hushed, almost like he didn’t want to ask the question.

  “Steele’s enjoying this. He won’t stop until he’s satisfied. And he won’t be until we’re all dead.”

  Seventeen

  As far as we could tell, Francisco Steele entered Mark’s townhouse through the back door, went up the steps, shot him twice, and left the same way he came in. Nothing indicated Steele hung around afterward. The police had canvassed the neighborhood, questioned Mark’s neighbors, and scouted the area. All signs pointed to the shooter being long gone. But we checked anyway. However, without any nearby abandoned buildings, Steele would have had a much harder time finding refuge near the action.