Kang stopped chewing. “Why would he want an escort in SF?”
“Maybe he and the woman were platonic.” I shrugged.
“No sex, just kills?”
“Yeah, it doesn’t make sense to me either.” I pulled up a few of the pages they had visited. “Well this is interesting. The searches are all for male escorts.”
“So the woman wanted action.”
“I wouldn’t judge too quickly. We don’t know that it wasn’t the guy.”
Kang’s head bobbed from left to right as he continued to eat.
I tapped a finger on my desk. “You know, they could have been trolling for another victim.”
“A male escort? What’s the connection to SF?”
I raised an eyebrow at Kang. “You ever get out of Chinatown?”
He still had a puzzled look on his face while he scooped food into his mouth.
“San Francisco is a hotbed for porn production specializing in the alternative scene,” I said. “Maybe they were planning something in the Castro. They’ve visited at least twenty different ads on this site alone. Let’s see if they reached out to any men of the night.”
I opened the mail program and checked the emails they had sent.
Kang must have noticed the smile on my face. “Did you find something?”
“They contacted a bunch of them. Let’s see who responded.” I checked the inbox on the days they were on the hunt for an escort. “I’ve found some replies.”
“Well?”
“Hang on.” I scanned a few emails. “Seems as though their interests with the escorts had to do with their size, and I’m not talking height. I see some back and forth with an escort who calls himself Sampson… Here we go. They had a meeting set up with him at the Parc 55 Wyndham.”
“We don’t have a victim named Sampson, so maybe he was a potential.”
“I doubt that’s his real name, but none of our victims fit Sampson’s profile. He’s a six-foot-three, muscular black man.” I shrugged. “He’s worth seeking out. Let’s set up a meeting.”
“You really think this escort was involved?” Kang asked.
I leaned back in my chair and patted my belly like a bongo drum. “I’m not sure. It could have been a legitimate hire for an adventurous threesome.”
“Or there’s more to it.”
“Exactly. But we won’t know until we talk to him.”
49
I set up a new Gmail account and typed out an email to Sampson, explaining that we were a Chinese couple seeking his services for a threesome. “Anything else you think we should mention?” I asked Kang.
“That sounds like a typical query. It should work.”
I hit the send button, and the email swooshed its way to our escort. It was nearing nine at night. I told Kang I would text him when I had a response. As I walked him to the front door, he mentioned, “I know the manager of the Hyatt in Chinatown. I can arrange for a room if this thing gets that far.” I nodded my agreement and said goodnight.
Ryan was the only one up; Po Po and Lucy had gone to bed earlier, at eight. Once I had tucked him into bed, I had the house to myself with no distractions.
I popped back into my office and continued with my search through the Carlsons’ computer files. I wasn’t hopeful with the escort angle. My gut told me he showed up, did his job and left. There had to be something we were missing. They knew how to cover their tracks and they had multiple identities, so they clearly had experience. Yet they had taken pictures and made videos of their crimes. Why go through all the trouble of disguising themselves and leaving no evidence or witnesses at the crime scenes, then erase all of that by keeping evidence of their deeds on their computer? Someone that good wouldn’t do that unless there was a valid reason, like proving they had killed a person. Was that it? Did they document their crimes to prove they had done them? Was this about showmanship or proof? A contract killer might be required to provide proof. But I didn’t believe these were contract kills.
I looked in the all the obvious places more times than I could count, thinking maybe I had missed something. To be sure, I looked in every folder. Sometimes people hide the good stuff in places that are right out in the open but where you would never think to look, like in an Applications folder—better yet, the Utilities folder.
I clicked on the Applications folder and saw a list of the usual programs that came loaded on a Mac. The only additions were Adobe Photoshop and Microsoft Word. I scrolled until I found the Utilities folder. Again, normal stuff needed to keep the laptop functioning. I didn’t find any strange, out-of-place folders. What am I missing?
I began to think they kept a laptop primarily to store videos and photos and to surf the Internet. Outside of the escort emails, the rest of their email activity was tourist related: hotel and flight bookings, purchasing tickets to attractions and, of course, things to do in San Francisco. The same went for their online activity. Each corroborated the other.
The staged crime scenes, the pictures and videos—this was all for someone else. Another person viewed our couple in action, but how? Could they have hand-delivered the evidence of their deeds on a flash drive? If that were the case, then tracing their steps back to that person would be difficult, if not impossible.
I went back to their Internet history. The couple had visited the Kayak website a lot, and Kayak memorizes your last search. Maybe their next step could tell me more.
No such luck. The “to” and “from” fields were filled in with Toronto and San Francisco. What about a return flight? I dug back into the emails and found the airline confirmation email. They had purchased one-way tickets. Did they not intend on returning? Were they planning on staying in San Francisco? Were they last-minute travelers who bought their plane tickets days before travel? I went back to the airline confirmation email. The date they booked and the date of travel were separated by two days. I wondered if their travel plans were dependent on another trigger, like permission or instructions. Or were they simply not sure of their next move? What am I missing? What else could tell me more about these two individuals that I don’t already know?
There were no Word files saved in their Documents folder. I even booted Word to see if there were recent files opened. None. I did the same for Photoshop, Excel and more. And then my eye caught their Games folder. Hmmm, a serial killer that plays Angry Birds. Who would have thought?
I opened the game. There appeared to be consistent gameplay since they had completed five levels. I opened a few other games, unsure if it would lead me to anything, but it was something to do. As I moved from game to game, all I gathered was that they liked to play the popular ones, all of them PG rated. I didn’t see any shoot ’em up or fighting games. You would think a serial killer would rather play those than Mahjong or Solitaire. Go figure. I was a click away from closing the Applications folder and calling it a night when I spotted an app with a dragon icon. There was no file name, just a blank space next to the icon, which explained why I had missed it on the first pass.
I clicked on the app, and the screen went black. An animated, fire-breathing dragon materialized. It put on a brief show before morphing into the game’s logo: Chasing Chinatown. I leaned back in my chair as both sides of my mouth climbed higher. I got you guys.
50
It was near midnight when I received a text from Kang that he was standing outside my home. When I opened the front door, I was amused by his down dressing. He had on sweatpants, a hoodie and a baseball cap.
“What?” He asked, his body language defensive. “You said get over here as fast as I could. I was already in bed.”
I motioned for him to hurry inside. “We hit the jackpot,” I said as I skip-hopped past him and up the stairs. “Come on; I’ll show you what I found.”
I moved up the stairs and into my office as quickly as my leg would allow. Slightly out of breath, I pointed to the laptop. “Take a look.”
Kang took a seat at my desk and stared at the screen. On it was a sim
ple outline map of the world with the major cites of various countries represented by glowing red dots. A blue trajectory line connected Toronto and San Francisco.
“Is this some sort of a game?”
“Yes. It’s a game that our killer couple has been playing.”
“Wait, you got me out of bed to look at a game?”
I stood with my weight resting on one leg and my hand on my hip. “It’s more than a game. I’ve been poking around this program for the last hour or so, not to mention I had to crack a password to even get access. Let me explain. It’s kind of like a travel log. It keeps track of their expenses and the miles they’ve logged and the most interesting—”
Kang held up his and interrupted me. “Hold on, Abby. I’m still not seeing the importance.”
“Well, if you would zip it and let me finish, you would.”
“Fine.” He turned back toward the laptop, giving me the floor.
“As I was saying, the most interesting part of this all is that it keeps track of their kills.”
Kang straightened up.
“That got your attention, didn’t it?”
“Keep going.”
“Not only does it manage their kills, but it orders them.”
Kang looked back at me. “You mean this game, or whatever it is, asked for one dead guy minus his heart?”
“Not exactly, but close.” I reached around Kang, took control of the mouse and moved the cursor over the listing of headings titled Attractions. “Each of these Attractions correlates to a kill.” I clicked on Attraction Four, and the other headings and the map faded back. A large animated scroll appeared and unraveled, revealing a phrase.
“Good fortune comes in many forms. Find the right one for your answer,” Kang read out loud.
“Each Attraction has a riddle like that. Below the riddle is a place to type in your answer.”
“And below that is a task,” Kang continued. “Leave someone’s heart in San Francisco. That’s referencing the Tony Bennett song, ‘I Left My Heart in San Francisco.’”
“That’s right, and our last victim had their heart removed and left here.”
Kang removed his cap and ran his hands through his hair as he leaned back in the chair. “Unbelievable.”
“I think answering the riddle correctly reveals the task, because the first three Attractions all have the same thing, except the riddle and the tasks are different.” I quickly took Kang through them.
“Why the puzzle aspect? If they’re killing for someone else, why make it difficult?”
“It’s a fun challenge—a game—so to speak. Most serial killers pride themselves on their analytical thinking, their ability to outsmart law enforcement and even their victims. I’d say this is right up their alley. Consider it an appetizer before the meal.”
Kang leaned back. “Maybe the game aspect is twofold. It masks what is really taking place.”
“That’s a valid point.”
“The only thing we don’t know is what answer they gave for each riddle to reveal their tasks.”
“Well, I crosschecked this fortune phrase with the history of their web searches. While I didn’t see any direct searches for this phrase, there were a lot of searches for Chinese restaurants.”
“Fortune cookie,” Kang blurted. “Chinese restaurants have fortune cookies and this riddle is about fortune.”
“That was my initial thought, too, until I saw the search for fortune cookie manufacturers.”
Kang snapped his finger. “The Fortune Cookie Company. It’s located right in the middle of Chinatown. So that’s the answer.”
“It could be, but my hunch is it was something at that location.”
“So they visit, recite the riddle and receive their answer. They then come back, plug it in and the task is revealed.”
“Perhaps. It fits with the gameplay concept.” I leaned against the wall and crossed one leg over the other.
“So we have a game that challenges the intellect, the skill, and the creativity of a serial killer. Talk about three ways to feed the ego.”
“Yeah.”
Kang rubbed his palms back and forth over his thighs. “You did good, Abby. You’ve certainly unearthed more about this case than I had thought there to be. But do you really think the creator of this app is masterminding the kills? Maybe it’s only a game that someone thought up, and these two lowlifes decided to use it to add a little excitement.”
“Possibly. I can’t say that isn’t the case.”
“But you think someone is behind it.”
“I do, and it’s because of the staging involved with the crimes and the documentation. While a lot of serial killers have a signature, something about their kill that brands them, I don’t believe the staging was a signature for the Carlsons.”
“Too much work?”
“Yeah. The amount of thought put into the staging, not to mention covering their tracks—I still believe the Carlsons relished the kill. The staging aspect feels more like work they might have enjoyed or even a way to prolong the high of the kill for them.”
“Could this simply be them seeking credit for their kills?”
I tossed Kang’s question around in my head for a bit, even though I had initially discounted it. “It’s not credit they’re seeking. This is about proof. Credit would require reaching a large audience. That’s not what they’re after. The staging was small and hidden.”
“Either way, I still can’t shake the fact that we’re talking about a simple app.”
“This isn’t coming from nowhere. This little game played a role in their kills.”
Kang looked up at me, his eyebrows arched into half circles. “We have no hard evidence that someone is issuing a command to kill through it. There are no direct orders.”
“It’s a great way to hide the fact that an order was given. It’s like the way the mob communicates over the phone; all of their conversations are indirect. Whoever is behind this is equally organized and set this up to avoid implicating themselves should something go wrong.”
Kang’s eyelids were heavy and his brow had relaxed. It was a lot to take in. I knew that, which is why it didn’t bother me that he still questioned me. He wouldn’t be doing his job if he didn’t.
For a few moments, neither of us said anything. My gut agreed with everything I had told Kang. Whether he agreed as well was yet to be seen. He had his head down as he stared at the area rug on the floor. His arms were folded across his chest with his hands tucked between his torso and his biceps.
I recrossed my legs. It must have wakened him from his self-imposed coma because he looked up at me then. Maybe he sensed me staring at him. There wasn’t an obvious sign to confirm my suspicions.
From the beginning, our relationship had been professional. Kang never crossed the line with me. I had said a lot of things that probably did but still, he always treated me with respect and as an equal. Could he loosen up a bit more? Sure, but I didn’t mind things the way they were.
As I shook off my thoughts, I saw that Kang was still staring. I didn’t feel as though he were gawking, nor did I feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was his gentle eyes. Twice, I almost opened my mouth to break the silence but resisted. We were having a moment. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I also wasn’t so quick to stop it. Slowly, I watched a smile form on his face. It started on one side and grew to encompass his entire mouth. I couldn’t help but grin back; his was too contagious to ignore.
Eventually, the silence got the best of me, and I laughed. “You’re staring at me.”
“I’m thinking about the case.”
“No, you’re not.”
“All right, I’m not.”
“What then?” My left eyebrow rose, as I tilted my head to the side playfully.
“I’m realizing how good you are.”
“As a person?”
“Yes, that, but I really meant as a cop.”
“Even though I’m an FBI agent, I’ll take that as a compliment
.”
“You know what I mean.”
I looked at my watch; it was nearly two in the morning, and that triggered a yawn, which then turned into stretching my arms high above my head. I peeked at Kang as I reached for the ceiling. My shirt must have ridden up higher than it felt like. Before Kang arrived, I had changed into a T-shirt and a pair of sweat shorts—my normal comfort wear around the house. In my mind, it was the furthest thing from sexy.
Kang thought otherwise.
His eyes were intensely staring at my exposed midsection, and before I could stop myself, my mouth cranked into gear. “Are you checking me out?”
He quickly looked off to the side before settling his eyes back on me. “What?” he managed to say with only a slight crack in his voice.
“You were staring—wait—leering at me.”
“I was not. It might have looked like I was, but I was thinking about the case, lost in my thoughts.” He waved a dismissive hand at me and looked away. “You’ve got a big ego.”
So I had busted his balls a bit for taking a peek. I was glad he had done it. It made him seem normal—goofy. And cute.
Twice in one night, I found myself calling Kang while he was asleep.
“Abby?”
“Sorry. I know it’s late, but I know what we need to do.”
“It’s four in the morning. Don’t you sleep?”
I had been sleeping, but a trip to the toilet had ignited the cogs in my head and they started spinning. As I had laid in bed with pieces of the case flowing in and out of my conscious, clarity on our next move appeared.
“Are you listening to me? I said I know what we need to do.”
“Is this about the case? Give it up. There’s no hard evidence that someone was talking to the Carlsons through this game. We would be chasing a ghost.”
“There’s still one riddle left that hasn’t been solved.”
“So we guess the answer correctly, and the task is revealed. Where does that take us?”
“I’m not sure. But there’s only one way to find out.”
[Anthology] Abby & Sei Thriller Starter Page 17
