Colleen handed Darcy a card. “When you speak with Miss Varona again, please tell her to call me so that we can get her side of the story on record. She’s not helping herself by hiding from us; it just makes her look guilty.”
“I’ll tell her if she calls, but Nikki is scared to death of being locked up; she’s claustrophobic and can’t even ride on an elevator.”
“Tell her to turn herself in, because we will find her eventually.”
Darcy agreed to urge Nikki to make contact, and Colleen and Troy left her.
After not hearing from Nikki all day on Tuesday, Troy decided to follow Darcy when she left the clothing shop she worked at. Darcy went home to an apartment she shared with another friend but left it only minutes later. After a stop at a Chinese take-out place, Darcy drove across the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge into Arlington, then headed north toward the Cherrydale section.
Darcy parked in front of a bungalow-style house and headed for the front door. The blinds were open. When Troy used a pair of binoculars to get a better look at the home, he saw Nikki Varona standing to the left of the door as someone else let Darcy into the house. At last, he had found Nikki.
Troy took out his phone and called Colleen.
“This better be good, Troy; I was about to sit down to dinner with my family.”
“Do that, but once you’re done eating, join me in Arlington. I’ve located Nikki Varona.”
“Really? Where is she?”
“In a house in Cherrydale that I followed her friend Darcy to. The woman who opened the door resembles Darcy; I’m guessing it’s one of her older sisters.”
“Have you called the police?”
“No, I thought we might want to handle this alone until we understand what’s going on. Nikki told Darcy that Guy Tyler is behind this, and we already know that he’s up to something with that locksmith.”
“Okay, give me the address and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“You have dinner with your family first. Nikki doesn’t know I’m here and has no reason to run. Besides, they’re having Chinese food here. Everyone is eating but me.”
“Okay, I’ll eat first; I’ll also bring you some of what we’re having.”
“What are you eating?”
“Lasagna.”
“Okay, now you have my mouth watering.”
Colleen laughed. “Good work, Troy, and I’ll see you soon.”
Colleen arrived less than an hour later carrying a plastic container of the promised lasagna. After looking through the binoculars and spotting a young woman with curly dark hair, she agreed that it was Nikki Varona.
“How do you want to handle this?” Troy asked.
“I’ll take the front while you head around back, in case she decides to bolt.”
“Sounds good.”
Darcy’s oldest sister, who was named Mary, opened the door and smiled at Colleen. “May I help you?”
“I’m Agent Regan of the FBI, ma’am. I’d like to speak to Nikki Varona.”
Mary said, “Oh,” as a gasp came from the kitchen.
“Nikki don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Colleen called out.
Nothing happened for several moments, then a tearful Nikki Varona appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Colleen stepped inside the home. “If that’s true, then you have nothing to worry about. You’re not under arrest, okay? For now, we just want to talk to you.”
Darcy accompanied Nikki into the living room. Colleen sent Troy a text telling him that she had Nikki. When Troy appeared, Nikki began crying harder. He went to her while smiling.
“Hey, Darcy told us that you’re claustrophobic, is that true?”
Nikki nodded while wiping away tears.
“We won’t lock you up, not if you cooperate. We need to hear your side of the story.”
“If I’m in a tiny cell I’ll freak out, I know I will.”
“Is that why you’ve been hiding out here, because you’re terrified of being locked up?”
“Yes… what’s your name?”
“I’m Agent Carson. We need you to help us understand what’s really going on.”
Nikki sniffled before saying, “I’ll help.”
“We’ll need the money and the hard drive. Do you still have them?”
A nod, then, “Yes.”
“They’re right here,” Darcy said, as she reached down to the bottom shelf of a coffee table. Troy put on gloves before handling the items.
“We’re going back to Washington,” Colleen said. “Are you willing to talk to us, Miss Varona?”
“I’ll tell you what happened, just please, please don’t lock me up.”
“You’re not under arrest,” Troy said. “We just want to find out what’s going on.”
Darcy’s sister, Mary asked if she was in trouble for letting Nikki stay with her.
“Not unless you’re a part of what’s going on,” Colleen told her.
“I have no idea what this is about, but I do know Nikki. I believe her when she says that she was set up. She’s nineteen and guilty of being naïve, but she’s a decent girl.”
Troy didn’t say it out loud, but he believed in Nikki’s innocence as well.
Once they reached FBI headquarters on Pennsylvania Avenue, Nikki announced that she had a fear of elevators. They wanted to speak with her on the sixth floor. Troy said that he would accompany Nikki in the stairwell and walk her upstairs.
“Better you than me,” Colleen said, and Troy and Nikki began the trek up six flights.
“I’m sorry to be such a bother,” Nikki said, “but I’ve always been afraid of small spaces.”
“There’s a video of you entering the safe room at the brokerage house. I had wondered why you went back to prop a chair against the open door leading into the room. I guess you did that to make certain that the door wouldn’t accidentally close on you, hmm?”
“Yes, and you were smart to notice that detail.”
“I’ve been trained to notice details.”
“I still think you’re smart, and you’re also kind to let me use the stairs instead of insisting that I take the elevator; thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Varona.”
“Call me Nikki.”
The money in the cash box, three hundred and thirty-nine dollars and sixty-two cents, was all there. As for the hard drive, it turned out to be blank.
They spoke with Nikki inside an interrogation room with the door left open, as a nod to her claustrophobia. Nikki told them that Guy Tyler had asked her to grab the things from the safe and to take them with her. He was to call her on Monday morning with an address where she could deliver them. Instead, when the call came, he accused Nikki of stealing and promised her that she would be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
“He set me up.”
Colleen was shaking her head. “We went over the video for the past week. Every time Tyler opened the safe to take out the hard drive, it was placed back inside. Other cameras show Betty Smith updating the drive. It’s possible she switched it with a blank when she was putting it back inside the safe on Saturday, but Guy Tyler never reached into the safe again until Monday morning. The video proves that you were the last person to handle the hard drive and the cash box.”
“But I was just doing what I was told to do,” Nikki pleaded.
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” Colleen told her. “I’m just trying to understand what happened to the real hard drive.”
Colleen and Troy spoke alone and out of earshot of Nikki.
“I believe her,” Troy said.
“For her story to make sense, Betty Smith and Guy Tyler have to be working together to frame her.”
“Maybe not. We still don’t know what role the former safecracker, Al Cooper, played in all this.”
“I’d almost forgotten about him. I want to pay him a visit tomorrow. Maybe he’s had time to calm down and is ready
to talk.”
“We could catch him at home tonight?”
“That might upset him more than a visit to his shop would. But if he still threatens to lawyer up tomorrow, we’ll drag him in here and try to bluff him.”
Troy laughed. “With what?”
“We’ll think of something.”
A look of panic entered Nikki’s eyes when they told her they needed to detain her.
“I’m being arrested?”
“Not yet,” Troy said. “But we can’t risk you going into hiding again.”
“Please don’t lock me in a cell. If I’m shut up in a tiny space like that, I’ll, I’ll go mad.”
Troy turned to Colleen. “That’s a nasty cough she has, isn’t it?”
Colleen cocked her head. “What?”
“Nikki’s cough, I think she should be evaluated for a day or two inside the detention center’s hospital ward. You know, the one with the large room.”
Colleen smiled. “Yeah, that might be a good idea. Let me look into that.”
Nikki understood what Troy was attempting to do for her. She smiled at him.
“Thank you, Agent Carson. I can handle being locked up if the room is large.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What’s your first name?”
“It’s Troy.”
“I like you, Troy, you’re nice.”
Colleen cleared her throat, tossed Troy a look that told him to watch himself, and took out her phone to call the detention center.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
KINGSTON, NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JULY 16th
Erica and Owens arrived in Kingston shortly after seven p.m. and went directly to the address they had for Keith Pardo, the forty-four-year-old lawyer who was accused of raping Heather Gray.
Pardo lived on the top floor of a luxury apartment complex that was ten stories high. As they approached his door, Erica and Owens saw that there was a yellow sticky note attached to it.
WHERE ARE YOU? PEOPLE ARE WORRIED, CALL ME—GARY
“That’s certainly an ominous note, given that we suspect Keith Pardo could be the perp’s next victim,” Erica said, as she rang the bell. There was no answer, so she knocked, rang the bell again, and still, no answer.
“Pardo’s brother is named Gary,” Owens said, as he read from a file on his phone. “I’m going to give him a call.”
Gary Pardo answered after one ring. “Keith?”
“Hello, sir, I’m Special Agent Owens of the FBI; I’m attempting to get in touch with your brother.”
“Has something happened to him?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“No one has seen him in three days and he’s not answering his phone. His car is still there too, a Mercedes sports model. It’s not like Keith not to answer his phone, and now I get a call from you, an FBI agent. What’s going on?”
“Can we meet somewhere and talk, sir?”
“Sure, where are you?”
“Right now, my partner and I are standing outside your brother’s door.”
“Good, stay there. I live in the building on the fifth floor; I’ll be there in a minute.”
Gary Pardo rushed off the elevator and greeted the two agents. He was a handsome man with eyes as green as Erica’s and resembled his older brother.
“Why do you want to speak to Keith?” Gary asked, after introductions were made.
“It’s in connection with a case we’re investigating.”
“Yesterday, I asked the building manager if she would let me into Keith’s apartment and she said no, but now I’m wondering if he might be inside his apartment suffering from a stroke or something. Maybe you can get her to open the door.”
“Yes,” Owens said. “I think that’s a good idea.”
They contacted the police and explained the situation. Under the authority of doing a police welfare check on Keith Pardo, Erica and Owens entered the apartment along with two Kingston cops. Gary Pardo was told to stay out in the hallway with the building manager until the situation was evaluated.
All looked normal and there was no sign of a struggle. There was a small, round entryway table beside the door. Pardo’s keys, phone, and wallet were sitting atop its gleaming cherry wood surface. The bathrooms and bedrooms were unoccupied, and again, there were no signs of a struggle.
A row of expensive suits hung inside the walk-in closet in the master bedroom and it didn’t appear as if anything was missing or disturbed, and then they entered the small room that Keith Pardo used as a home office.
Again, nothing looked out of place; however, there was something atop the desk that was disconcerting, and threatening.
A black envelope with Pardo’s name and the #4 printed on it in white lettering was in plain view. It was lying beside the letter it had contained. As with the previous letters, it gave a date of death for the one it was delivered to. That date was less than five hours away.
“We’ve got to find Keith Pardo,” Erica said, “and we’d better do it damn soon.”
Chapter Thirty
KINGSTON, NEW YORK, THREE DAYS EARLIER, SATURDAY, JULY 13th
Keith Pardo didn’t want to be found, at least, not at first.
Like most people, he had seen Ted Marx’s video that showed the horrific death of Luis Cantrell, and he knew what the black envelope he received was telling him about his future; it was telling him that he was not going to have one.
His first thought was to call the police and have them protect him, but then he remembered that Luis Cantrell had done the same thing. All that got Cantrell was death inside a police station, with the cops looking on helplessly.
No, Pardo thought. I need to do the unexpected, and I can’t trust anyone. If I don’t trust anyone and no one knows where I am, then there will be no way for the killer to find me.
He read the date on the letter again. Four days, he had four days. If he could stay hidden until the deadline passed, then maybe the threat would end. Afterward, that’s when he would call the cops, or maybe not even then. Hell, for all he knew, the killer could be a cop. Maybe that was how he got to Cantrell inside the police station.
Pardo left his office and grabbed his car keys and phone from the entryway table. He was dressed casually in a pair of sneakers, denim shorts, and a green polo shirt, as it was the weekend.
He was almost at the elevator when the thought struck him that his movements were possibly being tracked. He’d heard of that, and knew it was possible to follow someone through their phone, and his car could have a tracking device attached to it as well.
Returning to his apartment, Pardo sat the phone, keys, and his wallet back on the table. In the bedroom he grabbed his travel bag off the closet floor and tossed a few clothes into it along with a toiletry kit he kept handy for traveling on business. He then went to his desk, where he removed a spare apartment door key from the bottom drawer. Along with that was an envelope containing five hundred dollars, and a loaded gun he had only fired once at a shooting range.
The black letter caught his eye. The date of his death was printed on it in bold characters as white as a skull. He spoke out loud as anger welled within him.
“You’re not getting me, you hear? Did you bug the apartment? Can you hear me? You’re not getting me!”
Pardo rushed out the door, turned, and locked it. This time he moved past the elevator and went to the stairs. After leaving the building, he walked several blocks as he thought about what to do next.
He stopped often to glance around, as he gripped the gun that was tucked inside the travel bag. No one was following him; he was almost certain of it. When he decided where to go, he chuckled to himself.
No one will find me there. Because I’m not supposed to even know about it myself.
Pardo jumped in a cab that was outside a hotel and took it to the train station in Rhinecliff. On the trip over, he had looked out the back window. He became certain he wasn’t being followed. If someone had been keeping track of him, they had pro
bably been relying on his phone to do so.
Just in case, he switched taxis at the train station, and took it to a different hotel from the one where he had grabbed the first cab. Once there, he talked a taxi driver into taking him out of the city and into the country by offering him two hundred dollars.
The cabbie thought the request damn odd when Pardo wanted to be dropped off along the highway, but he complied, and Keith Pardo waved goodbye and headed off into the trees.
Pardo had guessed wrong about the cabin’s location in relation to the highway. He’d had to walk two more miles than he thought would be needed, but by nightfall, with the temperature dropping, he was at the cabin’s door.
It belonged to one of the partners at his law firm. Pardo had spotted the man in an out-of-the-way bar a few months earlier. He hadn’t been alone. The man was having drinks with the young wife of the firm’s senior partner. Pardo was pleased to have learned about the secret affair and decided to watch them.
He had expected the pair to head to a motel after leaving the bar. Instead, they drove to the cabin. Pardo had watched as the man removed a hidden key that had been concealed inside a fake rock. He’d waited ten minutes, then he’d crept toward the cabin and looked in the window. After getting an eyeful, Pardo had filmed the couple with his phone. The partner was a rival within the law firm. It didn’t hurt to have a little blackmail handy if it was ever needed.
A month later, Pardo began his own illicit affair with the sixteen-year-old daughter of a neighbor. He had always had a thing for the young ones, and it had been years since he’d let himself have some fun. Still, he had to be smart about it. It would be stupid to risk being seen with the underage girl at a motel, and even worse if she were caught coming out of his apartment, and so, Pardo made use of the cabin.
The Appointment Killer Page 13
