The Watched (CSI Reilly Steel #4)

by Hill, Casey

  She’d always hated being caught in a pissing match between local and federal agents, but on this case everything was magnified.

  Detective Mark Reed was waiting for them at the caution tape. ‘How does someone go from something as gruesome as the beheadings to something as, well . . . weird as this?’

  Reilly pulled on her gloves as she surveyed the scene. ‘The killer’s always been dramatic. He thrives on artistic value or cinematic flair. For him, it’s not about shock for the sake of shock value. It’s about making something that people will never forget.’

  ‘Well, he’s definitely on the right track here.’ Reed crossed his arms and watched the crime scene investigators approach the body.

  The killer had this time chosen a man in what appeared to be his early twenties, average weight and height. He wore only a pair of dark shorts. The rest of his clothes didn’t seem to be anywhere nearby.

  ‘The lifeguard who found him said that he’d pulled a double shift yesterday so he was the last one to leave last night,’ Detective Reed said. ‘He said the beach was empty when he left at ten. Our victim was here by the time the lifeguard returned this morning at five.’

  ‘Meaning he could’ve been here when the tide came in.’ Reilly knelt in the scorching sand, not sure which scenario was better. ‘What time was high tide?’

  Detective Reed answered the question. ‘I checked that with the Coast Guard. One fifty-five in the morning.’

  ‘Is he close enough to the waterline that he could’ve drowned?’ she wondered.

  Todd straightened from his crouching position and eyed up the distance. ‘Definitely. Dr Kase will have to tell us for sure, though.’

  ‘We figure the rest of his clothes, anything else he might’ve had on him as evidence is probably long gone. It might wash back up again, but the chances are slim.’ Reed circled to the front of the victim. ‘He didn’t have ID on him.’

  Reilly didn’t say anything as she examined the tent pegs driven into the sand on either side of the victim’s legs. The ropes around his ankles matched the ones around his forearms attached to similar pegs. Based on the raw and bleeding flesh beneath the ropes, it hadn’t been a quick death. The poor kid had had the strength and time to fight back, this time at least.

  It was a first.

  ‘Let me know what you find,’ Detective Reed said abruptly. He turned and walked back up the beach, and Reilly wondered why he seemed so shaken at this one in particular given the horror shows he’d been experiencing all throughout the entire investigation.

  ‘The victim looks about the same age as Mark’s son,’ Todd explained, picking up on her thoughts. ‘Lives in Wisconsin with Mark’s ex.’

  Reilly didn’t have anything to say regarding this revelation. She couldn’t imagine how hard it must be for a parent to see a victim the same age as their child. She knew how difficult it was when she came across a victim who reminded her of her sister. A son or daughter would’ve been nearly unbearable.

  The realization hit her as she set aside her camera, and the link between the film festival and the murders finally became clear.

  ‘He’s threatening Sheldon’s daughter . . .’

  ‘What?’ Todd looked at her, puzzled.

  ‘The killer and the kidnapper are the same man.’

  ‘But how—?’

  ‘I think the killer has been forcing Sheldon into writing death scenes, brand-new scenes for him to act out.’ Reilly was sure this was what had happened now. The Indiana Jones angle for Bradley’s murder hadn’t panned out, and coupled with the setup for this one which also didn’t ring any immediate bells with regard to any well-known movies, it was almost a certainty. That was assuming the killer and Sheldon weren’t in cahoots, which given the screenwriter’s reputation was unlikely.

  She continued outlining her theory to Todd. ‘This death and Bradley’s are new scenes, unrelated to any movies we know about so far. Whether or not Sheldon knows what his kidnapper is doing with what’s being written is another story.’ She scooped up some of the sand in a vial. ‘But I think he’s threatening Kai Sheldon, and holding that threat over her father to get what he wants.’

  ‘The hotel said they put extra security on her.’ Todd put the evidence bag into a marked box. ‘So if our murderer does have Sheldon, don’t you think it’s more likely that the guy’s just trying to save himself?’

  ‘Do you really think he’s foolish enough to believe that he’s going to be let go after writing scenes that caused the deaths of two people?’ Reilly replied, shaking her head, full sure now that she was on the right track. ‘And I also think Sheldon knows his captor well enough to know that he could access Kai. Otherwise, why would he go along with it?’

  Todd stared down at the corpse in front of him without answering.

  Reilly didn’t say anything more, letting him think it through. She knew that Todd was likely pondering the same horrific thought that had been going through her mind the moment she’d suspected what had happened here.

  Had Drew Sheldon really dreamed up the death scene they were looking at now?

  And had the victim died before or after the killer had filled in the hole where the young man had been forced to stick his head? Had he suffocated, sand filling his nose and mouth as his body struggled for breath?

  Or had it been done close enough to the tide that he’d technically drowned, water mingling with the grains of sand?

  CHAPTER 35

  The Maestro strolled across the container and sat in his usual seat.

  Drew Sheldon looked decidedly the worse for wear. He’d still refused to change into the clean clothes that the Maestro had brought and hadn’t washed since he’d been abducted.. That couldn’t be sanitary. He had a momentary desire to film the writer’s descent into filth and broadcast it for all of the big-wig’s Hollywood friends to see. Then again, that would be counter-productive and a waste of time. He had better things to do.

  ‘First, let me congratulate you on the best screenplay you’ve ever written. The forensic investigator’s death was good, but this one was so much better. The guy did exactly as you said,’ the Maestro chuckled as he remembered the expressions of terror on his victim’s face.

  No actor could replicate something so pure, no matter how many Academy Awards they’d won. And forget a halfwit like Bruce Reynolds trying to do it. Although, now that he thought about it, it might’ve been fun to cast Bruce in one of these new scenes. ‘When am I going to get out of here?’ Sheldon’s voice was hoarse. That tended to happen when a good part of the day was spent screaming for help. Apparently he still hadn’t learned that no one could hear him. Or he just liked the sound of his voice. Also a possibility.

  ‘I told you,’ the Maestro said, leaning forward. ‘When I have my script. You’ve only done the first part. Now we’re going to talk about the big finale.’

  ‘Finale?’ Sheldon’s trepidation was written on his face.

  ‘Oh yeah.’ A slow smile spread across the Maestro’s face. ‘And I don’t want something that we’ve seen a million times. No machetes or chainsaws, villains with claws. Beheading, evisceration, all of that’s been done, pardon the pun, to death. I want something creative, something so big that audiences will never forget it.’

  Much later, Todd sat at home at his kitchen table, staring at the closed laptop. He hadn’t told anyone he was taking Bradley’s work computer home with him.

  Technically, since Reilly was running the investigation, she should’ve been told, but, Todd argued with himself, it wasn’t like she’d claimed the laptop for herself.

  In fact, it seemed that everyone had forgotten about it. He certainly had until he’d gone into Bradley’s office after coming back from the beach crime scene earlier. While rummaging through the desk drawers for energy drinks or coffee, he stumbled on the familiar black case.

  Now, the machine sat in front of him, silent and accusing. He knew he could get in serious trouble if anyone found out that he’d taken it. But he wanted
to know what Bradley had been doing, and the lead Reilly mentioned he’d been chasing down in the run-up to his capture. That meant something, Todd was sure of it.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Let’s see if there’s anything good on here.’ He pressed the button and waited for it to boot up, sipping at his beer. It was three in the morning and, as always recently, sleep was being elusive.

  In fact, the only night he’d gotten more than a few hours was the night that Reilly . . .

  Todd scowled. He didn’t want to think about that anymore. Pity sex. That’s all it had been. He needed to stop thinking about it. No matter how great it was.

  ‘First stop . . .’ He barely noticed that he was talking to himself. ‘Internet history.’

  He pulled up the program and opened the history tab, hoping Bradley hadn’t cleared the cache recently. The first two sites weren’t any help as they were both password-protected. The third, however, took him to an online article from a movie industry website.

  Todd’s eyes widened as he read.

  Up-and-coming director Wesley Fisher sat down to discuss his second film, the much-lauded An Age of Dawn and Ice, with Gwendolyn Kim. While his first film, The Children of Desire, had been one of the most highly anticipated films of last year, it drastically fell short of both critic and fan expectations. Fisher’s second movie has received initial positive reviews but fans are still wondering if they should expect to be disappointed once more. When questioned, Fisher defended his movie adamantly, saying that the deeper meaning was lost by most and that those who bashed his film should stick to their intellectual equals – specifically citing River of Blood, the current box office hit penned by Drew Sheldon. River of Blood is a crowd-pleasing slasher flick that fulfills its promise to be as graphic as it can while staying just this side of an R rating. Fisher claims that he’s so proud of his first film that he kept the prop ring that played a key part in the plot. According to Fisher, the ring is made of a rare form of amber, making its worth almost as high as the film’s gross. Citing the eighteen-second 1895 film The Execution of Mary, Queen of Scots as an inspiration for cutting-edge work, Fisher stated that he hoped to make a memorable contribution to society through the medium of film. As he left, this reporter couldn’t help but wonder if, in just a few short years, the only memory of Fisher will be a cautionary tale for young directors starting out in the business.

  Todd swore. Amber . . . The Execution of Mary, Queen of Scots . . . Someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of film and, more importantly, a motive for revenge.

  According to Daniel and Reilly’s account of their interview with him at the hotel, Fisher had seemed intrigued by the notion of intercutting real life with films, but not overly interested. Given Todd’s father’s lack of interest in him as a potential suspect, he’d apparently handled himself without any notable signs of anxiety, which meant either he was a sociopath or just plain lucky. Todd was hoping for the latter, but afraid that they were dealing with the former.

  Bradley must have realized the same thing and either gone to find out more about Fisher or talk to him directly. Either way, it hadn’t ended well.

  Todd’s hand was halfway to his phone when he stopped. If he called Reilly, she’d just call the field office. The Feds would go in and either botch the job, confiscate Bradley’s laptop and suspend Todd. He couldn’t take the chance of letting Holly and Bradley’s murderer go free.

  He stood and glanced at his watch. It was still early enough that the night manager at the Millennium Hotel would be there. Based on Daniel’s observations of Fisher’s behavior, Todd was willing to bet that the director wasn’t on the best of terms with any of the hotel staff.

  Getting a room number should be easy. After that, all Todd had to do was provoke some sort of response from Fisher. A confession. An aggressive move. Anything that would give him the opportunity to act.

  And by act, of course, he meant take him in. There was certainly no need for anything violent to occur, though Todd wasn’t sure if he’d be able to resist.

  He hesitated, his hand hovering over his car keys. Rushing in unprotected and without calling the detectives for backup probably wasn’t the best idea either. The guy had managed to take out Bradley, and the other male victims hadn’t exactly been small.

  He went into the bedroom and retrieved a box from the top of his closet. He’d purchased the Smith & Wesson M645 a few years ago when he and Bradley had decided they should spend more time at the range.

  It had been a while since he’d fired it, but he’d been meticulous about keeping it in good condition. He loaded it, just as a precaution, and double-checked the safety. As he slipped it into his waistband and pulled the back of his T-shirt over it, he spoke out loud. ‘Just in case. That’s all.’

  As Todd hurried back into the kitchen to pick up his keys, he couldn’t help but mentally add that if the sick fuck gave him an excuse, he wouldn’t hesitate to put him down.

  CHAPTER 36

  Reilly stepped into the cool silence of the lab and felt a rush of relief that it was empty. Granted, it was five o’clock in the morning and they’d all been working late the night before, but she doubted she was the only one having problems sleeping.

  She’d hoped that she’d be the only one coming in early though. She needed some time to gather her thoughts without constantly worrying about Todd or Daniel. With Daniel’s part in the current interference from the Feds, the tension between father and son had really ramped up lately.

  She set down her bag and pulled up her email program. She was still waiting to hear back from the costume designer about the dress from the Mary, Queen of Scots, murder. She’d passed on the information to Bradley at the time but of course the poor guy hadn’t been able to chase it up, and the others had been inundated ever since. So Reilly had followed it up herself.

  A familiar ding indicated that her mail was done loading and she perched on the edge of her stool as she sorted through it. Usually, back in Dublin, the GFU wouldn’t double-document every exchange, but with the team’s personal stake in the investigation now, she needed to make sure everything they did was above board. Reilly didn’t want the killer getting off because the defense hinted at impropriety. She needed to have facts to back up everything the lab did, every piece of evidence, every finding, every conclusion.

  The next email was the one she’d been waiting for and she printed it out even as she read it.

  I apologize for taking so long getting back to you. I had some trouble finding the order you’d requested as it appears to have been processed over a year ago. The dress in question was one of six I sold to a production company for a film they were making. The garments were shipped to Stars and Moon Productions in Los Angeles. Someone from the production company actually called me back a few months later to ask about a return and refund because funding had been cut. However, I only received back five of the dresses. When I contacted the company, the director stated that he wanted to keep one as a souvenir and agreed to pay for it. I believe the director’s name was Wesley. I hope this helps with whatever you’re investigating. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do for you. Sincerely, Magda Evanwood.

  Reilly stared at the screen, her heart racing as she realized just what it all meant.

  Wesley Fisher; the up and coming director who’d wanted Drew Sheldon to write him a screenplay. She reached for the phone. Surprisingly, given the hour, it only rang a few times.

  ‘Agent Kent,’ she said. ‘We have a suspect name.’ Her first instinct had been to talk to Todd, but given the level of rage and thirst for vengeance simmering inside him at the moment, she figured better to play things by the book.

  ‘A name?’ The Fed sounded surprised. ‘How’d you get that?’

  Because it’s my job, you idiot. Reilly bit back the retort before it crossed her lips. ‘A costume designer just emailed me. Short version is, she sold a dress worn by one of the victims to movie director Wesley Fisher.’

  ‘And?’
>
  Reilly closed her eyes, fighting the urge to ask the agent if he was being deliberately obtuse. ‘Fisher is here in Tampa at the film festival. Daniel Forrest and I talked to him before.’

  ‘You talked to a potential suspect?’

  ‘That’s not really the point.’ Reilly spoke through gritted teeth. She didn’t remember the other Feds she’d worked with being this thick-headed. ‘Fisher had issues with Sheldon because Sheldon wouldn’t write a screenplay for him.’

  ‘So you’re sticking with this theory that the screenwriter kidnapping and the murders are being carried out by the same person?’

  Reilly wanted to scream. ‘Yes. The profile fits. And now the evidence fits.’

  ‘But you don’t have anything physical to connect the two.’ The agent sounded uninterested. ‘Without forensic evidence, all you have is circumstantial at best.’

  ‘Look, I don’t care if you believe my theory or not.’ Reilly’s temper flared.

  While she was still admired in her field for her expertise, a lot of the cops and prosecutors she’d worked with before she’d left considered her decision to move out of the country as a slap in the face. Then again, based on the way Agent Kent had been talking to her from moment one, she wondered if anything like that even came into play. ‘It doesn’t matter. Fisher needs to be questioned about the dress in any case. The designer confirmed she sold it to him. So either he’s the killer and placed it on the victim or he’s some way connected to whoever did.’

  ‘All right,’ Agent Kent said. ‘I’ll send someone over to the hotel to look into it. I don’t suppose you have a receipt with Fisher’s name on it?’

  ‘No.’ Reilly clicked the mouse. ‘But I’m forwarding you the email now.’