by P. D. Martin
“How are you guys going with your lists?” I ask, sitting back down.
O’Donnell answers. “We’ve got full enrollment names from the twenty-two colleges with science or medical programs. Our list was finalized last night and the computer geeks have been doing their work, running the list against payroll records and locations where each student took their SATs. The computer’s spitting out names alphabetically, and we’re getting them from the boys in groups of ten.” He squeezes the bridge of his nose. He looks tired. We all do. “We’ve also got a list of all the FBI and CIA applicants from Arizona, Michigan, Chicago and D.C. We’re crossing that against studying in Michigan, plus the SATs and the payroll stuff. Again, I’ve told the guys to give the names to us in groups of ten so we can get started ASAP. And we’re doing a search for any cops who’ve transferred across from Michigan to Chicago and then to D.C.”
“How many names have we got so far?” I ask.
“Two hundred.”
I can’t hide my disappointment. “Shit! How far have we got to go?”
“We’re two-thirds the way through both lists. It’ll only be a couple of hours before we get the final lists,” he says, pausing and scribbling down the alphabet. “When it comes through, I’ll take surnames A to C, Couples, you take D through F, Anderson, you take G to I, Flynn, J to L, Jones, M to P, Marco, Q to T, and Krip, you get the easy one, U to X.”
“Any update on the lock-picking angle?” I ask, looking at Jones.
“On the master-key front, none of the locksmiths have a common employee, so it would be pretty impossible for our perp to have entered using a master key.” He stares down at his notepad. “I also managed to get as many names as I could from Arizona lock manufacturers. Some have kept the records and some haven’t. We’re cross-checking the names against our college, FBI, CIA and law-enforcement lists to date, but nothing’s matched so far.”
“What about Michigan?”
“I’ve made a few calls to the manufacturers, but haven’t got through to them all yet.”
Krip leans forward. “As far as we know, Sam’s the only person he’s ever nabbed from inside an apartment, and maybe Jean. The rest were in parking lots, maybe at the front door, but no struggles inside.”
I can sense that no one feels this is a strong lead except me.
“I don’t know about the trash can lead, Sophie. We don’t have any proof he’s getting into their apartments,” Flynn says.
I stand up and lean on the table. “Guys, he gets in. I’m telling you. And I don’t see Sam leaving that window open.”
“Anderson, why don’t you take over the lock-picking angle. Maybe also check if any lock-picking sets or guns have been reported stolen,” O’Donnell says. I’m not sure that he’s taking me, or this lead, seriously.
He moves on. “I’ve been checking out the cops who worked the cases. Nothing’s come up yet, but there’s still a few to chase down.”
I wonder what he’s found out about the task force.
The meeting winds up and I get a small desk and phone to start my research. Josh and Couples stay in the meeting room, O’Donnell goes back to his office and Krip goes back to his desk. Flynn and Jones share a small desk opposite mine.
My cell phone rings and I answer it.
“Hi, Sophie, it’s Darren. Darren Carter.”
“Hi, Darren.”
“Look, Bob told me about your friend. I’m real sorry.”
“Thanks, Darren. I should have told you myself, but I barely remembered to call Watson to tell him not to pick me up.”
“That’s okay. I understand. Listen, I’m in D.C.”
“What?”
“I’ve taken a couple of vacation days. I thought maybe there was something I could do to help you guys. I’ll chase down leads or talk to you more about the Arizona murders. Anything at all.”
Is it desire for revenge or closure that’s brought him to D.C.? I walk away from Flynn and Jones and into a quieter corner. “To be honest, I don’t know if they’ll want an outsider on this case.”
“Totally informal, of course. I don’t need to know any federal secrets. But I think I could help.”
“Where are you now?”
“D.C. airport.”
“Grab a cab to 601 Fourth Street Northwest. It’s the D.C. Field Office. In the meantime, I’ll talk to the task force leader. Call me when you’re out front.”
At O’Donnell’s office I tell him about Detective Carter.
“Look, you know we can’t get this approved,” O’Donnell says.
“It doesn’t need to be official. It’s just a helping hand.”
He takes his glasses off and stares out the window. “What you do in your free time is up to you. You’ve got a friend flying in from Arizona, I say you meet him and talk to him. Unofficially.”
I get the message.
“Can I tell him about Sam. Who she is?” I say, not able to talk about Sam in the past tense.
“You know the official line on that one.” Again he pauses. “But it’s your call.”
“Thanks.” I walk toward the doorway and then turn back. “Anything suspicious on the task force members?”
“Not yet. I’m checking everyone’s movements though.”
I nod and leave his office. Would he tell me if he’d found something? Hard to say. He might be under orders to keep everything under wraps.
Thirty minutes later Darren phones again.
I meet him in front of the building. The agents assigned to me keep a close eye on Darren, and I wave at them to signal he’s okay. I sign Darren in and we go upstairs and I take him around to meet the task force members, including O’Donnell.
He shakes Darren’s hand. “I understand you’ve got a few days off.”
“That’s right. A holiday in our nation’s capital.”
O’Donnell smiles, happy Carter’s getting the drift. He shuffles some papers on his desk and pulls out a two-page list. He hands it to me.
“Anderson, this is the list of Arizona police officers or applicants, and FBI and CIA applicants from Arizona.” He looks back at Carter, then at me. “See if any names ring a bell.”
“Will do,” I say.
Once we’re out of the office I hand the list over to Darren. He folds it up and puts it in his jacket pocket.
Lastly, I take Darren in to Josh and Couples in the project room. They both look up as I enter. Couples is on the phone and nods, but Josh, who was obviously about to make a call, puts the handset down. I’m about to introduce Darren when Couples finishes.
“This is Sandra Couples, D.C. police, and Josh Marco, FBI. This is Detective Darren Carter from Tucson Homicide. He worked on the Arizona murders. Detective Carter is on a couple of days’ leave and wanted to see how we’re progressing with the case.”
Sandra nods and shakes his hand. Josh copies Sandra’s response and adds, “Nice to meet you.”
Josh and Darren look at each other strangely. Do I sense a tension between the pair?
I smile. “Don’t mind us. I’m just going to fill Darren in on our current status.”
Sandra picks up the phone and starts dialing.
I move to the whiteboard and take Darren through the map and the different abduction and dump sites.
“The pattern’s different with your friend.”
“Yes. We’re not sure why yet.”
Josh comes up behind us. “Taking Sam back to her apartment was more personal than the way he left the other victims.”
“Yes. Yes, it was,” Darren says somewhat distractedly.
I hand Darren the file to date on Sam, but I can’t bear to look at it myself. He flicks through it, and Josh and I sit next to each other to expand the profile. After about ten minutes Darren hands me the file.
“I’ve just got to look into something.”
“To do with the case?”
“Maybe. Maybe. It’s something I remembered about Sally-Anne.”
CHAPTER 18
After m
y afternoon appointment with Amanda I go straight to the ladies’ room. A quick glance shows me no one else is in the four-cubicle bathroom. I lean on the sink and study my reflection.
“God, you look like shit,” I say out loud. My eyes are red and puffy from crying. My skin looks pasty and there are large dark circles under my blue eyes. I try to cover it all up with another layer of makeup. The puffiness will go down in the car as long as I don’t think about Sam. I flip my phone open and power it up. One message. It’s from Josh, but I’ll call him back later, when I’m more together.
I make my way through the corridors, head down. I don’t want to run into anyone in my current state. I know they’d understand, after all, Sam’s…
I can’t bring myself to acknowledge it. I only want to think about her alive.
I get into the car and turn the radio on, loud. I surf until I find the most upbeat song, then I sing, louder than the radio. I need to keep myself distracted. I can’t cry, not now. I refocus my tears into thoughts of revenge.
I walk into Café Alcasto. It’s one of my favorite places for pasta and coffee. The coffee machine sits up front and is one of the coolest-looking pieces of machinery I’ve ever seen. But it’s not simply for looks—the coffee is amazing.
My two bodyguards are close behind me. They’re in the door before I’ve even made my way over to Darren. It’s weird being followed. Really weird.
Papers are fanned out on Darren’s table, but he’s not reading. Instead, he stares out the window. He doesn’t see me until I pull out the chair opposite him. He looks wired, distracted. It could just be the coffee. They make it strong.
“Hi, Darren.”
He smiles, a strange smile. The way his eyes follow me as I sit down shows me that he’s glad to see me, but the smile is forced.
“How’s it going with the Arizona lists?” I ask.
“No names are ringing bells.” He looks down at the pages in front of him. “Not from the list.”
I lean forward. “What’s up?”
“Sophie, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Oh God, I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with the attraction between us. Not now.
“Yes?”
“There’s another reason I came up here.”
Here we go… I take a breath in, ready to ask him to stop there, but he holds his hand up. I hear him out.
“It’s about Josh.”
“What about Josh?” This is getting complicated.
“I don’t know how to say this.” He pauses again. “But Josh was a suspect for Sally-Anne.”
“What?” I stand up forcefully and the two agents rise quickly. I wave them back and sit down again. “But how could that be? His name wasn’t even on your interview list.”
“Josh lived in Tucson for about a year and a half. Between 1995 and 1996.”
“No, there must be some mistake.”
“I’m sorry, Sophie.”
“But he wasn’t on your suspect list.”
“That was Watson. Josh’s father was a well-known local politician and a friend of the Raymonds, and of Bob. He wanted Josh to go into politics and asked that his name never go on the records. I didn’t like it, but Bob agreed and told me to keep my mouth shut. It was my first case in Homicide. I did what I was told.”
“But you eliminated him as a suspect?”
“Watson did. But I was never totally convinced.”
This is unbelievable.
“So that’s why you two were so odd when I introduced you earlier today.”
“When we were in Tucson you mentioned a Josh. That was the first time I’d given much thought to Josh Marco in eleven years. I had to come up and do some checking of my own. See if it was the same guy.” He looks down at the table. “I had to warn you.”
I try to absorb what Darren’s just said, but my mind battles against it, unwilling to think Josh, the man I’m sleeping with, is a killer.
“Have you told anyone else?”
“Not yet. I wanted you to be the first to know.”
I nod and manage a small smile.
He looks down. “Me not telling anyone isn’t a totally selfless act.” He looks me in the eye again. “There could be repercussions. For me.”
Darren’s right, altering police records is a big deal and someone would have to pay. “But it was your first case in Homicide.”
“So? There was only me and Watson.”
With Watson, the natural contender, retired and out of the picture, the heat will fall on Darren. “Let’s wait a bit, then, before we tell the others. There’s no point ruining your career over this if we clear Josh.”
Darren looks relieved.
“Have you spoken to Josh?” I ask.
“No. Again, I wanted to tell you before I confronted him.”
“Josh left me a message about an hour ago. Maybe he wanted to tell me about Sally-Anne himself.”
“Probably. He must have guessed I’d tell you.”
I punch Josh’s number into my phone. I want to give him the opportunity to tell me about his involvement in Arizona. I stand up and hover a few feet away from Darren.
“Hi, Josh. It’s me. You rang?”
“Hi.” He pauses. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I’m okay. I’m with Darren.”
“Oh.”
I keep quiet, giving him the chance to come clean. Nothing. “Listen, I better go. We’re running through the cases.” I’m disappointed.
A beat of silence. “Okay.”
“Nothing else?” I give him one last opening.
“No. I’ll see you later.”
I hang up and sit down next to Darren.
“Well?”
“Nothing.”
I run through it all in my head. The killer can’t be Josh. But the pieces begin to fall into place.
I look up at Darren. “Josh studied in Michigan.”
“Michigan? During the murders?”
“Yes. He says that’s what made him go into law enforcement, why he applied to the FBI.”
“Maybe we should tell someone now. I mean, he even fits your goddamn profile.” Darren leans backward and glances out the window. “Law-enforcement background, knowledge of crime scenes, smart…” He trails off.
“Except for the medical background,” I say.
“One thing?”
And I think about it. I mean really think about it. Is it possible? How can it be possible? I mean, I am, or was, falling for him. “This can’t be.”
I think about O’Donnell. What’s he found on Josh so far? He must be looking into him.
“Well, let’s try to eliminate him,” Darren says. “So, we’ve got him in Arizona and Michigan around the times of the murders. What about Chicago?”
“Oh God.” I cover my mouth with my hand.
“I take it he worked in Chicago.”
“He was at the Chicago Field Office before he transferred to D.C., but I don’t know the dates.”
“Do you know when he started at Quantico?”
“About a year ago.”
“How does that go with your dates for the D.C. murders?”
“We’ve just placed him in all murder cities except Florida, and roughly at the same time as the killings.” I put my head in my hands. “Shit.”
“Did he work on any of the cases?”
“He couldn’t have.” I shake my head. “He would have told us.” I pause—he didn’t tell us about Sally-Anne. “No, he mustn’t have. It would be in the case files.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I would have noticed.”
“Okay, so he was in the cities but not working the cases.”
“He’s got a damn good knowledge of crime scenes too. It would explain the perfect crime scenes. No DNA, no footprints, no tire marks.” Part of me is actually starting to believe Josh could be a suspect.
“Perfect enough to be a pro.”
“Exactly. But it just can’t be. Not J
osh,” I say.
Darren clears his throat and stares at the papers in front of him. “I take it you and Josh are more than friends.”
I can feel how upset this makes Darren and I want to comfort him. I reach out and put my hand on top of his, but withdraw it quickly.
There’s silence for a few seconds.
“How long for?” he asks.
“That’s not really any of your business.” I keep my voice open, not defensive.
He stares at me. God, he’s so sweet.
“Things have been heading in that direction recently,” I say.
“Since you’ve been working this case?”
I pause. “Yes…”
“Convenient. Maybe he’s trying to keep you off his trail.”
“No, that’s madness. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. And certainly not Sam.” But Sam was different. The crime scene was different. More personal. Maybe…
I voice my opinion. “Sam was different from the others because he took her back to her apartment. We were wondering if this time he knew her. Really knew her.”
“We?”
I laugh at the irony. “Josh and I. We reviewed the profile after you left the field office.”
Darren is silent.
I rub my hand across my forehead and down the side of my face. “But if he’s the killer, why would he point us in the right direction?”
“You tell me, you’re the profiler.”
It would tie in with a high-risk offender. I put my head in my hands again and pull my hair off my face with my fingers. “My taste in men can’t be this crap.”
He laughs a little. “It might not be. It could all be coincidence.”
But this doesn’t reassure me.
“Anything else?” Darren asks.
There must be something we’re missing…
“He couldn’t have dumped Sam’s body. He was questioning George Daly,” I say.
“Okay. Now we’re getting somewhere. Are you sure he was with Daly the whole time?”
“Pretty sure. But I can check the interview transcript.”
“Okay. Is there anything else suspicious? What about your premonitions?”
“Josh does fit the build of the killer I’ve seen. Six-one, broad.”
