by Robin Mahle
“I just think we’re wasting time in here. Shalot isn’t the guy. We know it. The FBI knows it. So, I can’t just sit here waiting for the labs to come back, telling us what we already know.”
Marshall held her gaze for a moment, appearing to try to read her intentions. “I know that look in your eyes, Kate. We got half a dozen people that want the same thing as you do. Don’t go off thinking you need to run on some idea all alone. Last I checked, we were partners.”
“We are. I understand that. I just need to get back to work.”
She’d been too harsh. It wasn’t intentional, but as she made her way back to her desk, it occurred to her that he might perceive it as such.
It was the nagging feeling that set her off, as if she and everyone else were missing something. Katie began to wonder why it was that Marc Aguilar contacted her only days before Lindsay Brown turned up dead. It was as if he knew what was coming. The timing couldn’t be coincidental.
The story was already headlining on every news station. The reporters offered conjecture as to whether or not the authorities were dealing with the Highway Hunter and working to keep it quiet. They would take every advantage to sensationalize the story.
Aguilar had seen it coming, though. What had he known that she or the authorities hadn’t? Maybe it was time to meet up with her old friend.
There he was, Marc Aguilar, Channel 9 News, sitting at the restaurant booth and scrolling through his phone. Katie spotted the perfectly coiffed hair and tanned skin immediately. She respected Marc for what he’d done for her when she felt as though there was no one else in whom to confide. He’d come through for her on occasion since Hendrickson too. They’d become good friends, but he was still a reporter and reporters were always looking for a scoop on a good story.
He noticed her on approach and flashed his bright white smile, which stood out even more against his bronzed cheeks. “Katie.” He greeted her with a peck on the cheek. “It’s been too long. Please, sit down.”
“Thanks for taking the time to see me, Marc.”
His expression quickly turned serious. “I understand you know the man they have in custody for the murder of Lindsay Brown?”
“He’s just a person of interest right now. Nothing more. But yes, I am acquainted with him.” Katie grew suspicious that he had obtained this as of yet undisclosed information.
Marc took a sip of his iced tea. “I can’t imagine that makes Detective Avery very happy.”
His inference had not gone unnoticed. “No. Not very happy.”
“I’ve done some digging into this Edward Shalot’s background,” Marc began. “Don’t look at me like that. You know when I’ve got a feeling about something that I’m not going to just let it go.”
“The FBI and the San Diego police are looking into Shalot’s background. Marc, this is already a very difficult situation.” Katie had made her point, but she knew it would not deter him. The same as it would not have deterred her.
“I understand, but I think you might change your mind once you see this.” Marc slid a manila folder across the table.
Katie flashed her eyes between him and the folder for a moment, then decided to take a look. This wasn’t expected. In fact, her question had as of yet remained unasked.
Upon opening the file, her lips pursed until they turned white. “Oh my God.” She looked to Marc. “What the hell is this and how did you get it?”
“It seems your acquaintance might not have been completely honest with you or the authorities.”
Inside were photographs of Edward Shalot, capturing him hanging around various places of ill repute, mostly from security cameras around the locations. In and of themselves, these were not that disconcerting. What was, however, were the print-outs of several blogs, Facebook, and Twitter posts about him. It seemed he had a reputation for frequenting strip clubs and venues that catered to alternate lifestyles. But as Katie began to read some of the posts, she grew even more troubled.
Most of the blogs and posts were complaints by women. Some were exotic dancers, some were women who had also frequented what appeared to be something akin to swingers clubs, but all seemed to validate the same thing: that Edward Shalot had posted unauthorized pictures of these women and that when some had confronted him, had found themselves on the receiving end of his rather nasty temper.
Of course, none of them reported these assaults. At least, according to the posts. They were either too afraid of losing their jobs or of their personal lives being exposed. So, they chose to spread the word about him online. Even going so far as to post pictures of him so people would know what he looked like.
“First of all,” Katie began, “how did you even know that we had Shalot in custody? His name hasn’t been released to the public. Hell, we haven’t even charged the guy with anything. Secondly, when you called me the other morning, you already knew something about this Highway Hunter, didn’t you? Something more than what the FBI told the media. Why else would you have asked me to talk to Scarborough? How did you get this information, Marc? Look, it’s me. You gotta tell me what you know.”
The fact that Marc hadn’t been straightforward with her up until now was more than a little upsetting, but she supposed if he had a contact who was feeding him information, that person would fall under a protected source. It didn’t seem to matter that lives could be at stake.
“Did you know that Shalot had stolen my school records? Had my address, phone numbers, my class schedule; everything that someone would need to keep tabs on me.”
Marc leaned back in surprise. “Katie, I’m sorry, I had no idea. Look, these posts weren’t exactly hidden. Anyone who knows how to use Google would be able to find them with little effort. Frankly, I’m surprised no one else came across them.”
“Who are you talking to, Marc? Come on. You didn’t just come across this stuff. You didn’t just call me at five in the morning on a hunch. Who’s your source? Someone who’s trying very hard to convince everyone that Edward Shalot is the Highway Hunter is playing you. And whoever this person is knows far too many details about the investigation. Jesus, Marc, we’re dealing with a killer here.”
“Katie, I—I can’t…”
“Are you kidding me? Your source deserves more protection than I do? What the hell, Marc?” Katie banged her knee on the table as she stood up in anger. “Don’t ever ask me for a damn thing again. You hear me?”
“Wait!” Marc raised his voice, drawing unwanted attention from the other restaurant patrons. “Katie, I’m sorry. Come back and sit down, please.”
She returned to her seat under protest.
“He didn’t give me a name, okay? Just called me up at my desk one day last week and said he knew there would be a killing here, a Highway Hunter killing. Didn’t know when or where or who the victim would be. Believe me, if he had told me that, I would’ve gone straight to the police. You know that.
“So that’s why I called you. For all I knew, the guy just wanted attention and was talking out of his ass. I thought if I could talk to Scarborough or have you talk to him, maybe he could give me something to go by. You know, information that I could test this guy out with. Find out if he was for real or not. Then make the call to the authorities if it panned out.”
Marc took a drink of his tea, the weight of Katie’s eyes bearing down him. “When Scarborough declined, he didn’t leave me much recourse. The guy called me again and told me to pick up an envelope from some nearby location. Said I would be convinced that the serial killer was here, in San Diego.”
“For God’s sake, Marc. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not like I knew Lindsay Brown would turn up dead. Jesus. You think I would have kept that to myself if I did? Give me a little credit. Anyway, you ended up calling me first. I just got this today and I figured you needed to see it. Katie, I didn’t know Shalot was the one in custody until I got this and it wasn’t until just now that you told me about the nature of your relationship with him...”
> “There is no relationship, Marc. Let’s just get that clear.”
“I didn’t mean…” Marc waved his hand, brushing off the comment. “I meant that I didn’t know you knew him before now.”
“All right.” The anger that she felt toward Marc was beginning to dissipate. She understood now why he did what he had done. “I’m honestly just shocked by this.” She thumbed through the pictures and blog posts. “Maybe he did kill her.”
“If something happens – you guys bring charges against him – will you tell me first? I know you’re restricted from saying much, but Katie, the public has a right to know if they have the Highway Hunter, or if he’s still on the loose and there’s someone pretending to be him.”
“Marc,” Katie began with pleading eyes.
He held up a preemptive hand. “I’m not going to release anything. But when the time comes, you promise me I’ll get the news first.”
Marc spotted the waitress coming and immediately closed the file, pushing it toward Katie.
The waitress placed two glasses of water on their table. “Are you both ready to order?”
“I need to get back to work, Marc. I’m sorry, but I can’t stay.”
“Of course. I’ll talk to you later?”
Katie slid out of the booth and excused herself to the waitress. “I’ll be in touch.”
Blue skies had finally emerged as the day progressed. The wind, however, still brought with it a chill. It was either that, or the fact that this new information Katie now held in her hands had turned her blood cold.
She approached Marshall’s office. His door was closed. Never a good sign. “Knock, knock.” Katie slowly opened the door, unsure of what she would find. The blinds covered his windows and there were no assurances he was actually inside.
Upon opening the door further, he appeared, casting his eyes up to her, and what Katie saw in his face frightened her more than what she was about to reveal to him. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Close the door and sit down,” he began. “Where have you been? I checked your cubicle and was just about to call you.”
Katie slowly sat down in the chair opposite his desk, bracing her weight against its arms. “I was having lunch with Marc Aguilar. Well, we didn’t actually get around to eating. I left after only a few minutes. Will you please tell me what’s going on?”
“The sample Gibbons took from Shalot matches what the ME found in Lindsay Brown’s mouth. Scarborough and Captain Hearn are going to be speaking to the media in a few hours, bringing official charges against him.”
The samples matched. How was that possible? There wasn’t much more any of them could do. That type of evidence was almost impossible to refute. Scarborough would remand Shalot. The case would be over, as far as the San Diego Police Department was concerned.
Everything she had considered was just wiped away. Would the files she now held matter or would they solidify the case against Shalot even further? “Well, Agent Scarborough knows what he’s doing. I guess they got their guy,” Katie said, still skeptical.
“Not exactly.”
What was Marshall holding back? He’d wanted this result and should be thrilled that it was over. What was the real reason for his gravitas?
“There’s been another killing. Scarborough got word shortly after speaking to the medical examiner.”
“But we’ve got Shalot in custody,” Katie started. “Then there is more than one of them.”
12
AGENT SCARBOROUGH APPROACHED Gibbons as he stood near the interrogation room. Edward Shalot was inside along with his court-appointed attorney. “Guess we should give him the good news?”
Gibbons opened the door and followed Scarborough inside.
“I didn’t kill her, I swear to you. I’m being set up. I’m not this damn Highway Hunter,” Shalot pleaded.
“I see your attorney has informed you of the charges?” Scarborough replied. “Then I guess you know you’ll be handed over to the FBI until your court appearance?”
“I’m telling you, I did not kill Lindsay!” Shalot’s actions were becoming erratic. His hands trembled and his face had grown pale.
“Calm down, Mr. Shalot.” Bender placed a hand on Shalot’s forearm.
“What kind of goddamn lawyer are you?” He yanked his arm away. “You haven’t done shit for me and now I’m going to prison!”
“Don’t fuck around with me, man,” Scarborough started, his eyes in a deadlock with Shalot’s. “You killed that woman and you and whoever else you’re working with have killed other women in exactly the same way. The sooner you tell us who your friends are, the better off you’ll be.” Scarborough walked toward the detention officer. “Please, uncuff him from the floor.”
The officer pulled the key ring off his belt, kneeling down to unshackle Edward. Scarborough reached for the man and led him into the corridor, where Agents Myers and Jameson waited.
“Let’s get him to the field office,” Scarborough said.
Agent Jameson took hold of Shalot and proceeded to lead him to the front of the station.
Along the way, Shalot spotted Katie still inside Marshall’s office. He threw himself at the window. “Katie, please. I’m innocent. I didn’t kill Lindsay. You have to help me. I’m begging you. I shouldn’t have taken your file. I’m sorry. But that doesn’t make me a murderer.”
Katie hadn’t yet revealed the contents of the manila folder to Marshall, still holding it in her hand. Instead, she leapt to the door and pulled it open. “What the hell is all this, then, Edward?” She flipped it open and showed him the pictures.
Scarborough eyed the photographs and quickly looked to Katie. She didn’t acknowledge him, only continued staring directly into Shalot’s eyes. “Avery, what the hell is this?”
Marshall’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He seemed at a loss as to why she had not shown him this first.
Edward lowered his shoulders. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I go to clubs once in a while, okay? I didn’t do anything to any of those women. I know they post shit about me, but not once was I charged with any crime!” He must have realized his voice had risen considerably and lowered it once again. “I can explain all of this.” Shalot tried to reach for Katie’s shoulder, but cringed as Jameson pulled back on the cuffs.
“All right. You’ve done enough damage here. Let’s go.” Jameson pulled Shalot along, nearly tripping him up as they disappeared around the corner.
She watched as he was dragged away. Confusion settled in her mind. She didn’t know what the hell had just happened. Here was a man who stole personal information about her, frequented strip clubs and other places where he harassed women. How was she supposed to believe he didn’t kill Lindsay, or that he was at least a part of the Highway Hunter killings? They had his DNA.
Katie turned to Marshall, who now stood directly behind her. “I don’t think he killed her, Marshall.”
He threw his hands up and returned inside the office. “You mind explaining to me what the hell all that was about? Where did you get this?” Marshall pulled the file from her hand. He tossed it onto his desk and began sifting through its contents.
Scarborough moved in to get a better look, appearing to disbelieve what he was seeing. “My God, Katie. When were you going to let us in on this little bit of information?”
“I was about to tell you, Marshall. That’s why I came in here. I met with Marc Aguilar.”
“The reporter?” Scarborough asked. “The one you asked that I speak with the other day?”
She was beginning to feel as if trapped in a corner. Her intention was not to withhold this information. It simply hadn’t yet been revealed. When she saw Edward in the hall, a switch had gone off inside her and she lashed out, demanding an explanation.
“Look, I was about to hand that over to Marshall. I’m not trying to impede the investigation, I’m trying to help! Marc knew we had Edward in custody. He’s got a source. This source told him that the Highway Hunter was
on his way here. This same source contacted him again and said he had something for Marc. It was this file. Marc and I just met up a short time ago and he told me everything. He said he had to be sure the guy was for real. That’s why he wanted to talk to you last week. He’d gotten some vague information and wanted to know what you knew.”
Katie started to feel a sense of betrayal by the men who had both taught her so much. She was being treated as if a child under threat of a scolding. “Now, if you’ll both get over yourselves for just a minute, we can figure out who killed Lindsay Brown because I can tell you, it sure as hell wasn’t Edward Shalot.”
Agent Scarborough was the first to concede. “Katie. I’m sorry. I overreacted.” He stepped away from the desk and began to pace the small office. “We have Shalot’s DNA. How can you possibly think he didn’t kill that woman? Yes, she was different than the others, but we’ve already discussed the possibility that we’re dealing with more than one person. We just got a call about another victim. So what we’ve got is a man whose DNA was found on a victim’s body, who killed her in a similar fashion as the others that we’ve found so far, and you’re insisting it wasn’t him.”
Marshall said nothing, only waited for her reply.
“Because he wants me.” Katie looked to each of them. “That would clearly not be possible if he was in jail for murder. I believe it was made to look like he did it for reasons that remain unclear and what’s in that file there? Just more evidence to stack up against him.” She looked at the photos and papers spread across Marshall’s desk. “Why else would Marc’s source bring up Shalot’s history? He is not a nice man – that’s become very clear to me – but someone who knows him well is working pretty damn hard to see him put away for life.”
Marshall appeared to study the information. “That doesn’t explain why he had your records. You’re so sure he didn’t kill Lindsay Brown, but what if she was like you? What if Shalot had become obsessed with her, same as you?”
