Lance reached into his backpack and retrieved two discs. “Start with this one. It’s showing the parking lot at Ridgmar before the party and afterwards.”
Jack inserted it in the DVD player and returned to a seat. Colby had joined them on the second row.
The light was not good on the video. Still, they could make out a woman in dark pants and a green T-shirt jogging in the direction of Alta Mere. She had something strapped to her waist. The digital clock display confirmed it was the night of the party. The timer read 7:30 p.m.
“Lance, you figure that’s a fanny pack?” Walt asked.
“Most likely. If it’s our killer, she probably had her gun, a knife and part of her costume in it.”
The section ended.
“Jack, if you’ll go to the next section, this will start to get interesting.”
This time the video showed what appeared to be the same woman. She was headed toward the camera which was placed too high to get an image of her face. She now had a noticeable limp. Her hair appeared to be black. She limped out of view of the camera. The time was 10:08.
“Where in the parking lot is this camera?” Jack asked.
“Southeast corner. About the only time anyone parks in that area is around Christmas when the mall is packed.”
“Looks like she scouted that lot and chose a place that would not be visible to a camera,” Joe said. “Still, she jogs away and comes back limping, and the times fit. No doubt in my mind that she’s our gal. What’s next, Lance?”
“The Hampton Inn, three days before the party. Load this one, please.”
It showed an old white pickup turning under the port-cochere and stopping. A woman climbed from the driver’s seat. Jack paused the video.
“Damn, Lance, you’ve got a license number on the rear.”
“Sorry to say, we’ve checked it. Belongs to a family with a Chevy truck. They live on the Northside. They had reported it missing the next morning. Best guess is it was parked at a restaurant on Camp Bowie. Their son was using it for a date. Came off the front of the Chevy. Not surprising that he didn’t notice it missing. And you know, Walt, that cops aren’t really looking for cars with front license plates missing.”
Walt nodded his agreement.
“She’s a petite woman, black hair, looks to be in good shape. Can you zoom in on her face?”
“I can do better than that. We’ve got the video at the front desk. Keep it running, Jack.”
The next scene was the front desk, immediately to the right of the entrance. The camera caught the top half of the woman with a frontal image of her face. Jack stopped the video while they all studied her.
“Good looking woman,” Jack said. “Colby, how old?”
Colby thought a moment. “Somewhere around twenty-five, give or take a year or two. And judging from her make-up and hair, she’s proud of her appearance.”
“What else do we know about her, Lance?”
“Run the video again.”
Jack did so.
“You can see she’s paying cash. I suspect she had a fake driver’s license and used that stolen truck license on her registration.”
“Do we have her leaving the motel any time?”
Lance shook his head. “We’ve checked out the parking lot. There’s a blind spot between surveillance cameras. She’s good at picking those out. There’s a side exit to the motel. It requires a key card, but it’s not monitored. And the camera at the rear of the parking lot had been out of commission for about a week. So, short answer is this is the only video we have.”
“Hell, it’s a start, anyway. Have you sent anyone back over there since you got this video?” Jack asked.
“We called. The desk clerk who was on duty has been off a few days. He’s back at noon today. Name’s Alfred Santiago.”
“Let me go back to that side view of the truck. We’re looking for a dent on the right front bumper.”
Jack froze it as the woman was getting out from the other side. “There it is, Walt. Same damn truck for sure.”
“Lance, if you’ll let me borrow that disc, I’ll burn another copy and print off some photos of the truck and the woman at the desk.”
Lance reached into his backpack again. “I’m ahead of you. Here are copies of the discs, and I’ve already made photos.” Lance handed them to Jack.
Jack flipped through the photos and handed them to Walt, then turned to Joe and Lance. “Why don’t Walt and I take it from here? We’ll head on over to the Hampton Inn and visit with the desk clerk.”
“Fine with me,” Joe said. “I suspect that Lance has a full plate himself. Call us when you leave the motel.”
After the two men left, Colby asked, “You mind if I tag along. A woman’s eye might pick up on something that you guys could miss.”
“And let’s go in my Crown Vic. I don’t have a light rack, but I do have lights built into the grill and a siren. The license is also a state exempt one.”
It was early afternoon. The morning guests had departed and new ones would mostly start showing up in a couple of hours. They parked in front of the motel and walked to the desk. A young Hispanic man, neatly dressed and sporting a mustache and goatee, greeted them. His name tag identified him as Alfred Santiago. “Afternoon. You checking in?”
Since Walt was temporarily without credentials, Jack took the lead. He put his deputy card on the desk. “I’m Deputy Sheriff Jack Bryant with Tarrant County. This is Sergeant Frazier with the DPS. And this is Colby Stripling.” Walt moved his coat slightly so that the clerk could see the gun strapped to his waist. It was currently the best credential he had.
“Is there something wrong, officers?” Santiago asked with a slight tremor in his voice.
“Relax, Alfred,” Jack said. “Nothing wrong now. We’re investigating a murder, only not here. We want to talk about last week, Monday afternoon. We’ve got the motel’s videos from that day and have made some stills from it.”
Colby handed Jack the stills. He started with the photo at the desk. “You recognize this woman?”
Santiago studied the photo with a blank look.
“We could show you the video. It’s clear the woman paid cash.”
“Yeah, now I remember. We don’t get very many guests who pay cash these days. In fact, we keep a separate register, nothing fancy, just a spiral notebook. Let me pull it.”
He reached under the desk and came up with the notebook. After flipping a couple of pages, he said, “Here she is. Late afternoon on Monday. Name’s Katherine Ward, at least that’s what her driver’s license showed. I think she was driving an old Ford pickup. Now that I’ve got a name, let me go to the computer.” He turned and pushed a few keys. “She paid cash for four nights. We required a hundred dollars more as a deposit. Doesn’t look like she ever claimed it.”
“You have a room number?”
“Sure, 308.”
“Is it occupied now?”
“Not booked for today. Has been for a couple of nights since she probably left.”
“We’re going to need a key to have a look,” Walt said.
“You got it,” the clerk replied. He turned to get a blank card, inserted it into a reader and handed him an electronic key. “Please don’t mess anything up.” He paused and thought. “Well, it is a murder investigation. If you do, just tell me so I can put it back to our standards.”
They rode the elevator to the third floor in silence and turned right to find room 308. Walt inserted the key and they entered a standard and very clean motel room with two double beds, a desk, dresser with a television on it and a side chair. Beside the dresser was a small refrigerator with an ice bucket and a four cup coffee pot in a tray. The bathroom was to their left with the usual soaps and shampoo at the sink and in the bathtub. The room had been cleaned at least twice since their killer had occupied it. Still, they took their time to study every detail.
Jack was on his knees in the bathroom when he called to Colby. “Hon, can you come in here a min
ute?”
Colby appeared at the door as Jack pushed to his feet, his bad knee popping when he did. “Take a look behind the toilet. I see a few small red spots. Could be blood, maybe wine, maybe something else.”
Walt appeared at the door. “Here, use my flashlight.” He handed her a small Maglite.
Colby dropped to her knees and then to her stomach while she studied the spots. “I don’t think it’s wine. Could be blood. You think she might have dyed her hair before she left here?”
“Damned if I know,” Jack replied. “Why?”
“If she wanted to go from having black hair to red, it’s a two-step process. You have to bleach the black hair first before you apply red dye. Otherwise, you end up with just ugly streaked black hair.
“Well,” Walt said, “I suppose we should check the all night drug stores. I should have thought of it before. She was going to need something to bandage her leg. We’re going to have to seal this room. I also found a spot on the rug right up against the wall. My guess is it’s blood. I think we can establish her DNA from the blood we found in the driveway and the woods behind the house, but we should be thorough just in case we have to track her activities.”
“Doesn’t the DPS have facial recognition software?”
“It’s actually the FBI’s, but we have access to it. They have a new software program that is supposed to be the best available. It’s updated daily. I’ll drop these photos off at the local DPS office and have them run the photos.”
“Let me suggest one more thing,” Jack said. “I know the DPS has access to traffic camera footage. Can you have your guys check the footage going both east and west on I-30, starting about two a.m. We’re looking for that truck and that stolen license number. Maybe we can at least figure out which way she went.”
“I’m on it.”
23
The next morning Jack lingered in bed with Colby. With a last bedroom kiss, he pushed himself away and stood beside the bed. “I hate to leave you, but I need to get going.”
“Typical man. You get laid and toss the woman away like a limp rag.” Colby was smiling when she said it.
“Come on now. As you can plainly see, it’s not a rag that’s limp. You wore me out.”
Colby put her feet on the floor on her side of the bed and reached for her robe that was draped over a chair. “What’s on the agenda today? You expect to have anything back from the DPS?”
“I don’t think so. I need to go to the RV and check on the status of some of my other clients.“
A few minutes later Jack joined Colby in the kitchen, dressed in his boots, jeans, and a blue and white plaid long sleeve shirt. Colby had prepared bacon and eggs with English muffins. He poured himself coffee and sat at the table while she filled his plate and one for herself.
“What are you up to, today?” Jack asked.
“I’ve got three showings. The first one is at ten. Housing market is booming.” She took Jack’s right hand in hers. “And I wonder if that proposal is still open,” she said as she looked into Jack’s blue eyes.
Jack almost choked on his eggs. “You mean marriage?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” Colby smiled.
Jack stood at the table and pulled Colby to her feet, then kissed her.
“Damn right it is. When?”
“Well, I think you need to catch that killer and then we have to get through football season. If TCU lucks out and gets into the championship series, that puts us toward the middle of January. I was thinking, maybe, spring.”
“And, Ms. Bryant-to-be, have you considered where you would like to get married?”
“Jack, we’ve talked about this, I may want to keep my last name. It’s got a long history in Fort Worth. We’ll see. As to a place, I was thinking just out in the back yard. You love the view from there. Maybe at sunset.”
“Done.”
“And, one more thing. I’m going to take advantage of this hot housing market and list mine today. I think I’m ready to make this my permanent home.”
Jack pulled her to him and kissed her again. “I love you, only now I’ve got to work on some problems for a few other clients.”
“I love you, too.”
Jack hesitated. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you.”
Colby could tell from the look in his eyes that it was something serious.
“It’s about Walt. You know that he saved my life and the lives of a bunch of other men in Saudi Arabia.”
“Yes. Go on. That was twenty years ago.”
“You know he had a bad problem with PTSD for a lot of years after that. He says that he hasn’t had any problems for at least ten years. Until now. The events at the mansion have triggered it again. Flashbacks, mood swings, no telling what else. I dragged it out of him, but he won’t tell anyone else. He’s keeping it bottled up. I’m worried that it might explode. I’m pushing him to open up to me about it.”
Colby put her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. Is he getting counseling?”
Jack shook his head. “Refuses. He’s worried it might cost him his job.”
“What can I do?”
“Nothing, but I just thought someone else should know. When you’re around him, just keep a watchful eye and let me know if you see anything unusual about his behavior. That’s all we can do for now.”
Colby pulled him back and hugged him. “We’ll just have to get him through it. We can do that,” she said with more confidence than she felt.
Jack turned to the kitchen door and chose a cane with a silver horse’s head for a handle. He pitched it in the back seat of Lucille and headed out the gate.
When he arrived at the RV he found the parking lot deserted. Maybe he could have a few quiet hours to work on credit card, mortgage, car loan and the myriad of other issues that poor folks found themselves having to deal with these days. He wrote letters, drafted answers to lawsuits and responded to discovery until it was approaching dark. Finally, he shut down his computer and locked up for the day. He hadn’t been to Moe’s in a while. It was time for a game of dominoes and a beer. Moe’s Icehouse was a throwback. With rusted metal walls, it had two garage doors in front that were open on warm days. A couple of old wooden tables were on the concrete driveway in front. Three more tables were scattered around the inside. With no air conditioning, ceiling fans stirred a decent breeze. A worn and scarred bar ran across the back. The three barstools had seen better days. Behind the bar was a cooler where Moe iced the beer and a few sodas every morning.
Jack walked in, limping just a little. Must be a change in the weather coming, he thought. Four men were seated at one of the tables, drinking and loudly slapping dominoes on the scarred surface. Jack knew each anteed twenty-five cents per game. The men were laborers who worked construction, repaired streets and the like, blue collar for sure. Jack lived among the rich in Rivercrest, but enjoyed the company of these men.
As he walked past them to bar, one of them said, “Get your beer, Jack. I need to take a little of your money.” Jack enjoyed the games and the comradery, but always expected to lose two or three bucks. Before he could take a sip of his Lone Star, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller i.d.
“Hey, Walt, what’s up?”
“We’ve got a lead on the truck.”
“Go on.”
“You know where I-30 merges with I-20 west of town, we got her. She went through there at 8:54 on the morning after the attacks.”
Jack took a sip of his beer. “Go on.”
“Knowing she was headed west on I-20, we next checked the cameras in Abilene and found her going through there three hours later. Didn’t pick her up again. Don’t know whether she turned off the interstate or what. Of course, the farther you get into West Texas, the fewer cameras.”
Jack thought a minute. “Well, that puts her somewhere between Abilene and California. At least we can probably eliminate her being east of the Mississippi.”
24
Jack and Walt entered
the Fort Worth DPS office. Walt introduced himself and Jack to the officer at the front desk.
“We’re here to see Captain O’Reilly.”
The officer turned to a phone, spoke briefly and disconnected. “He’ll be right out. Have a seat if you like.”
Captain O’Reilly came through a door on the side of the reception area. His badge identified him as a Ranger. “Sergeant Frazier, nice to see you again. I believe we met a while back when Governor Lardner was in Fort Worth.” O’Reilly was a big man with a fringe of brown hair and a booming voice. “How’s he doing?”
“Out of the hospital and expected to make a full recovery.”
“Thank God for that. Sorry about Edward Hale. I used to run across him and Oscar at various events around town. They’re good men. Well, I’m sorry, Edward was a good man and Oscar still is. They have done a lot for Fort Worth.”
“Captain, this is Jack Bryant. He’s the special prosecutor in this case and is coordinating the activities of all the law enforcement agencies.”
Jack stuck out his hand. “My pleasure, Captain. I understand that the facial recognition software may have a hit for us.”
O’Reilly smiled. “I think I’ve got something. Sorry it took so long, but the feds move at their own pace. Follow me back to the conference room.” He led the way through the side door and down a hall lined with pictures of various law enforcement officials from the past one hundred years. The emphasis was on DPS officers and Rangers. O’Reilly opened a door on the right and motioned his guests into a conference room. “Have a seat.”
He went to a credenza and picked up a file folder, took a seat opposite them and opened the folder. He passed several photos across the table. “I believe you recognize these.”
“We do. They’re the photos from the Hampton Inn desk camera. We believe this woman is the killer,” Jack said.
Captain O’Reilly next passed several other photos across the table. They were taken with a camera, probably a Canon or Nikon, with a powerful lens. The first showed a woman leaving a convenience store, front view. Next was a close up of her face. The image was identical to the ones at the Hampton Inn.
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