by C. M. Sutter
Sam returned to the chair with his laptop in hand and powered it up. He needed to sell the remaining blood in the refrigerator so he could buy food. Sam pulled the slip of paper out of his pocket and typed a URL into the search bar. While at the library earlier that day, he had written down the URL of a local vampire rave site. As foolish as vampires sounded to him, Sam was desperate to find someone to sell the blood to.
He clicked on the images, the home page, and the member information. He’d have to fill out a form and be interviewed by the head person, someone who went by the name Massimo, if he wanted to join their clan. He’d have to create a log-in name to go much further into the site.
I don’t want to join your stupid clan. I just want to sell blood to you, if you really even deal with human blood.
With a tap of his index finger, he clicked on the profile for Massimo and began reading. The man’s written words were nonsense and way too deep. Massimo’s talk of the underworld and his spiritual gibberish nearly bored Sam to death. He was impatient and ready to look elsewhere. As he was about to click off the site, his eyes fell on a paragraph about human blood and how it nourished Massimo’s body and restored his sense of well-being. The man wrote of how he needed it on a daily basis. It was his drug of choice, but he didn’t have access to it as often as he liked.
Sam perked up and read that part again. His interest was piqued. He’d have to be careful with his words and show merely a vague interest in selling blood. He’d ask more questions first. He began typing then stopped. He didn’t want to use his personal computer for something illegal like that.
Sam kept that tab open and scoured the Internet for any of the area’s all-night coffee shops that had a business center. He found one only five miles from his house. Apprehensively, he slipped on his shoes and coat, raised the hoodie over his head, and grabbed the van keys off the kitchen counter. He climbed into the van and left.
I’ll make up some vague log-in name and send a quick note directly to Massimo’s contact page, offering to sell blood. Then I’ll wait until tomorrow to see if he responds.
Sam hoped to be home within the hour. He’d head to the library in the morning and check for a private message.
Chapter 48
Sullivan gave the window another tap. J.T. rose and left the interrogation room. Within ten seconds, J.T. opened the door to the observation room where we sat.
“Captain?”
“He doesn’t know anything,” Sullivan said. “Start with the next blond.”
“I have a good idea,” I said.
They turned toward me, and J.T. spoke. “Yeah? Then spill it.”
“It may speed up the interview process. Let’s get Jeff Simmons down here and see if he can pick out from a lineup the person who ran through his backyard.”
“Right, but we only have three blond guys to choose from at the moment.”
“It’s a start, though. We can toss a few cops wearing their street clothes in the mix.”
“Not a bad idea. Okay, let’s do it. Jade, call Simmons, and I’ll get that warrant for Alex’s house under way. J.T.”—Sullivan tipped his head toward the wall—“how about giving Andrews a hand in box three?”
“Sure, no sweat.” J.T. pointed at the mirror. “Steven can enjoy some solitude for a while.”
We parted ways at the door.
“Take a break, Monroe. We’ll reconvene in observation room two in a few minutes.” Sullivan’s phone rang as we reached the elevator. He picked up on the second ring. “Sullivan here. Yeah, Reynolds, uh-huh. Okay, make sure you get a copy of that tape and drop it off in the tech department when you get back.” He clicked off and pocketed his phone. When the bell dinged and the doors parted, we entered the elevator.
“What did Reynolds say?” I pressed the button for the fourth floor.
“The Kwik Stop video shows five vehicles lined up along the edge of their driveway at ten o’clock Tuesday night. The lead one was an extended van. Reynolds is bringing a copy of the tape back with him to see if tech can pull up the plate number.”
“So Chris’s story is true.”
“Seems that way. Okay, give Simmons that call.”
“I think I ought to call that resale shop too and ask if they have a surveillance camera at their store.”
“You’re one sharp agent, Monroe.” The elevator doors opened, and Sullivan gave me a wink and disappeared into his office.
After I pulled my notepad out of my purse, I took a vacant seat in the bull pen. I dialed Jeff Simmons first since we needed him at the station as soon as possible. I assumed I’d get a voicemail recording at the secondhand store, asking me to leave a message.
Jeff answered on the third ring. “Hello.”
I gave him the brief version of why I’d called. He said he could be at the station in thirty minutes. I thanked him and hung up. I clicked the Gallery icon on my phone and pulled up the picture I’d taken of the receipt from Second Life Resale. I wrote the phone number in my notepad and dialed. As I’d imagined, I heard a recorded message giving a brief description of their merchandise, store hours, and location. I hung up and planned to pay them a visit tomorrow as soon as they opened for business.
I filled my coffee cup and rode the elevator back to the first floor. With a quick stop at the security desk before I buzzed through to the jail area, I asked to be called as soon as Jeff Simmons arrived.
Sullivan watched from observation room number two as Fitch questioned a man on the other side of the glass. I took a seat next to Sullivan and sipped my coffee. I tipped my head toward the window.
“Anything interesting going on in there?”
He rubbed his nose, then he scratched something that apparently irritated him along the base of his jaw. “Nah, same old shit. I think we’re barking up the wrong tree. These jokers don’t know a damn thing other than what Alex tells them. No matter what, none of them seem to know about a woman being stuffed under the rubble inside the building.”
I slapped the surface of the tabletop. “Shit, I didn’t even think to ask.”
“What’s that?”
“Molly. What’s the deal with notifying her family?”
Sullivan let out a deep groan. “Jane took care of it. Earlier she matched up the DNA from Molly’s file to the body and confirmed the identity. It was Molly, but we already knew that. The mom and dad are going to the coroner’s office tomorrow to make a positive ID. Jane wanted Molly to look as presentable as possible first.”
I jotted down a reminder to pay the family a visit sometime tomorrow. “That has to be horrible for them.” My mind drifted back to the night that my own dad had died, but my vibrating phone interrupted my thoughts. I was thankful. “Agent Jade Monroe speaking. Yes, I’ll be right out.” I clicked off.
Sullivan stood. “Time to get the lineup together?”
“Yep, Jeff Simmons just arrived. I have no idea if he’ll be able to tell us anything, but it’s another check and balance.”
“Good enough. I have several officers waiting in their street clothes to pitch in. I’ll get them over to the lineup room.”
We gathered behind the glass with Jeff Simmons as six men, each with a different shade of blond hair, were ushered into the room. Each one held in front of his chest a piece of cardboard with a number on it—one through six.
Jeff stood nearest the one-way glass and peered through. He fidgeted, seeming unsure of what to say.
J.T. tried to reassure the nervous man. “Jeff, don’t force yourself to choose somebody. Just think back to what you saw that night. If nobody fits, they don’t fit. If somebody seems like a possibility, point them out.”
“Can you have them turn to the side? I never saw the man face-to-face.”
“Sure thing,” Sullivan said. He called through the intercom, “Everyone turn to the side and face the east wall.”
Jeff stared again. “I’m sorry, guys, but I’m not confident enough to pick out anyone. I’d say the hair color on number three is about wha
t I remember, and the height and body type of number five seems right, but that’s all I can give you.”
I patted his shoulder. “Thanks for coming down, Jeff. You’ve been a big help.” I had an officer escort him out. We paused our conversation until the door closed at their backs.
“Well, other than Steven’s hair color, we have nothing. Number five is Officer Lewis.” Sullivan reached deep in his pocket for the ringing phone. “Captain Sullivan here. Yeah, Charlie, what’s up? No shit? Meet us in my office in five minutes.”
J.T.’s brows rose, and I’m sure mine did too. I grasped the doorknob, ready to head upstairs.
“Charlie has information.” Sullivan looked back at Andrews and Fitch then jerked his head toward the men still standing on the other side of the glass. “Throw those three in the holding cell for now. We’ll get back to them later.”
Chapter 49
We turned the corner and saw Charlie leaning against the door to Sullivan’s office. He held a laptop pressed against his chest. A wide grin crossed his face when he saw us approaching from the end of the hallway.
“You really have a hit?” I couldn’t hide my enthusiasm.
“Hell yeah. I was about to call it a night and shut down the computer. That’s when I saw the alert. Looks like it came in about an hour ago.”
I felt my forehead crease. J.T. pointed at it, causing me to frown even harder. “That means the likelihood is low of any of these fools in lockup being our perpetrator. Even their cell phones were taken away temporarily. To be honest, the only thing I think they’re guilty of is trespassing on private property and starting a bonfire.”
“And being weirdos,” J.T. said.
“Yeah, there’s that, but if every weirdo was in jail, there wouldn’t be many people left in the free world.”
“Okay,” Sullivan said, “let’s go inside and you can show us what you have.”
Charlie burrowed in on one of the guest chairs and opened the laptop. He powered it up, and the home screen came to life. “Okay, here we go. First, I traced the IP address, which is a simple task. The perp was smart enough not to use a personal computer to send the message.”
I dropped my shoulders. “Damn it. I was hoping to charge into his house and arrest him on the spot.”
“Not quite that simple. You’ll have to do a little legwork tomorrow.”
“I’m okay with that. Go ahead.”
“Anyway, the IP address belongs to a computer at an all-night coffee shop east of here about ten miles. I looked up the place online, and it’s called Insomnia.”
“Clever. So it’s an Internet cafe?” Sullivan asked.
“Of sorts, but more of a coffee shop and snack food kind of joint. The photos give a vibe of where the young, after-the-bar crowds congregate for a cup of joe before they drive home.”
“Got it. What else?” J.T. asked.
“Here, I’ll pull up their website, and you can see for yourself.” Charlie tapped a few keys and typed in the web address for Insomnia. An image of their establishment lit up the screen. Along the left side, a drop-down menu appeared. Charlie tapped on the button showing the computer area. The image bounced over to the bedroom-sized room with three tables, each holding two computers. The price for using the computers was two dollars for every half hour.
“Go back to the coffee shop area,” I said.
Charlie clicked back to the still shot of the main room.
“Yeah, I don’t see any security cameras against the walls.” I looked at the time on the lower right side of the laptop—9:15. I turned to J.T. “Want to take a ride?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Oh, by the way, Captain,” I said as I stood to leave, “the secondhand store was already closed for the night when I called, but they reopen at nine a.m. That’ll probably be the first place we hit tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. There’s no need for you to come back here after the coffee shop unless they have an ID on our suspect. Get some sleep. We’ll touch base in the morning.”
I pulled out my coat from the hall closet near Sullivan’s office then peeked back in the doorway as I slipped it on. “Sure thing, but I’ll still let you know how it went when we leave Insomnia.”
By nine thirty, we were in the cruiser and exiting the precinct’s parking garage. With my phone in hand, I pulled up directions to the coffee shop and let the GPS guide us during the ten-mile drive. Optimism finally gave me a reason to smile. I hoped this would be the lead we needed to solve the case by tomorrow.
“The person who contacted Alex was in the coffee shop just over an hour ago. Whoever took his money should be able to give us a pretty accurate description of him.”
J.T. glanced my way. “You’d think so.”
After a fifteen-minute drive, J.T. pulled into the coffee shop’s small lot that was jammed between two buildings. The one-story stuccoed building held two individual retail spaces. Insomnia was closest to the parking lot. It shared a center wall with a shipping service store.
With the cruiser tucked neatly between a compact car and the dumpster near a fence, we exited our vehicle and walked to the front of the building. Insomnia appeared to be a recently remodeled storefront that might have been some other type of retail space not long ago. Building permits, still taped to the front window, looked torn and ragged, as if the wind caught them on a regular basis. We entered the coffee shop and approached the counter clerk. The room held wall-to-wall tables, likely to accommodate the late-night crowd once they showed up. Even for that time of night, the coffee shop was surprisingly busy. The constant hum of voices filled the space.
J.T. took charge, and I hung back and checked out the crowd. Insomnia seemed to be the perfect place for our perp to pick out his next victim. That was one possible reason he had been there. Everyone looked to be in their twenties—“young and innocent” to predators like the one who had visited Insomnia that very night.
“Psst.”
I turned around to see J.T. give me a head jerk. I walked over. “What have you got?”
“Somebody who may know something. Jade, this is Gina Figoli. She said she’s been working here since seven o’clock. She didn’t personally talk to the guy we’re asking about, but she said she saw him. And just a side note, there aren’t any cameras in or outside this building.”
“Figured as much. Okay, Gina, we’re going to need you to answer some questions for us.”
She looked around. “Yeah, and now is better than later. I think Denny can handle things for fifteen minutes or so. Can you give me a second?”
“Sure, go ahead.” Gina walked over to a young man taking an order at a table. He nodded, which I considered a positive sign.
“Okay, we’re good. Follow me. We can use the office.”
The small room consisted of a desk and one side chair. J.T. nodded for me to take a seat. I’d ask the questions, and he would take the notes.
“So, Gina, who waited on the guy who asked to use a computer?” I assumed if it was Denny, we needed to be talking to him instead of her.
“Like I told Agent Harper when he asked, it was Sue, but she’s already left for the night.”
J.T. apologized for not mentioning that tidbit.
“Okay, no problem. Let’s start with the upper part of his body and work our way down. That will actually give us a better description to work with.”
“Sure. He left his hoodie pulled up, but these days everyone does, and it’s cold outside.”
“Right. What color was it?”
“Black, and he wore a black coat over it. His hair was straight and medium blond. It kind of looked like it was all one length, you know, like he had to tuck the sides behind his ears. I noticed that because his hair fell in his face when he signed in.”
“He signed in?”
“Yeah, we only ask for the time you sign in and out and your initials, though.”
J.T. jotted that down then looked at Gina. “We’ll need to see that sheet before we leave.”
“What did his face look like?”
“I mean, he was cute and everything.”
I smiled at her youthful language. “How about details? Beard, mustache, monobrow, rotten teeth, that sort of thing.”
“Um, he had a clean-shaven face and blue eyes. He glanced at me and kind of stared for a few seconds.”
That comment made me shudder. I was sure I knew why he was checking her out. “How about age?”
“Humph. I’d put him between twenty and thirty.”
I dropped my shoulders. “Gina, everyone here is between twenty and thirty.”
She pressed her temples with her fingertips and rubbed as if that would clarify the image in her mind. “Yeah, sorry. I’d put him closer to thirty. He didn’t have a baby face.”
“Okay, you said he wore a black coat and hoodie. What kind of pants?”
“Baggy jeans, but not like he had to hold them up or anything. I guess more like carpenter jeans.”
“Okay, lastly, his build.”
“Geez, that’s tough with a coat and baggy pants on. I’d say he was built like Denny. Yeah, just like Denny.”
I looked up at J.T., and he nodded. “Okay, thanks for your time, Gina. All we need now is a peek at that sign-in sheet.”
“Sure, it’s back at the register.”
We followed her to the front and waited at the counter as she stepped behind it. She pulled out a clipboard with a sheet attached to it.
“We change out the sheet every night when we close.” She checked it before handing it to us. “Here you go. His was the last entry, but the ink is kind of smeared. Sue probably had wet hands when he passed it back to her.”
Gina slid it across the counter, and J.T. picked it up. He squinted at the initials then handed the clipboard to me. “Can you tell what they are?”
“Hmm… a J and R, maybe? Could be a J and a B or an S and a B. Honestly, I can’t tell. The only thing I can read is the check-in and -out times. I’ll take a picture and see if anyone at the station can make heads or tails of it. Maybe the tech department can sharpen it.” I pulled out my phone, snapped a few close-ups, and then slid the clipboard back across the counter.
