by G. K. Parks
Logic dictated the blood belonged to Knox, but I held out hope it wouldn’t match, that it’d belong to his abductor, who would turn out to be some other loan shark that had nothing to do with the Russians and nothing to do with me. Call it wishful thinking, not that it was particularly upbeat. But it was the best I could manage at the moment.
When I arrived at the office, Gloria was reading a magazine while Justin quietly typed away. She looked up as the door opened, a surprised but pleasant expression on her face.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Cross.” She put the magazine down. “I thought you were taking the day off.”
“Relax.” I glanced around, half-expecting SWAT teams to be hiding in my office and the break room. “Is anything going on? Any meetings I should know about?”
She gave me an odd look. “No, sir. You asked me to cancel everything yesterday, remember?” From the way she studied my expression, I wondered if she thought I was suffering from memory loss from the hits I’d taken.
“No, I remember, but it’s never a dull moment around here.” I pointed at her magazine. “Don’t stop on my account. I don’t mind. Actually, since we’re set to move into a new location pretty soon, I’ll probably need you to work overtime for a few weeks and the weekends. I know what an inconvenience that can be, so why don’t you take the rest of this week and next week off while we prepare for the move? It’ll be paid leave, of course. Just some vacation time to make up for all the extra work I’m about to throw your way.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“What about the calendar and meetings?”
“I’ll deal with juggling the calendar, but our schedule’s pretty light. Just some follow-ups.”
She scrunched her brows together. “It’s more than that.”
“It’ll be fine. Please, Gloria, if anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”
Justin made a coughing noise, and I turned to look at him. “Don’t worry, you’ll get some time off too,” I promised.
Gloria still didn’t look convinced and glanced from me to Justin.
“Seriously, if Lucien’s springing for extra paid vacation time, don’t question it. Just go,” Justin said. “You don’t want him to change his mind.”
“Okay,” she said uncertainly. “At least let me order lunch for you guys before I go.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at her before heading toward the filing cabinets. I didn’t need anything inside, but I wanted her to think that I would handle the schedule so she would leave. After lunch was ordered, she grabbed her things, told me to call if anything changed, and headed out the door. The security detail I had tailing her would remain until I was convinced there was no threat. Sending her home was supposed to mitigate that, but sending her home with armed guards was even better.
“You’re not serious about handling the calendar, are you?” Justin asked. “Since the day we met, I’ve never seen you schedule your own meetings.”
“The day we met was when you were hired as my assistant. That’s when you took over.”
He sighed dramatically. “Should I be worried?”
“We should all be worried. Knox is gone.” I pulled the zippered bags out of my pocket. “Amir is on his way to collect these.”
“Is that blood?”
“Most likely.”
“Is Trey Knox dead?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you think he is.”
“We don’t know. His car is parked at work, and his phone is in airplane mode.”
“I’ll run his financials and see if there’s been any activity recently.”
He looked into it while I paced back and forth and tried to figure out what to do. Almeada made it clear that I should do nothing, but I had to know what happened. I had to be prepared. Getting blindsided by the police or some psycho hell-bent on revenge wouldn’t end in my favor. The more I knew, the better and safer I’d be.
“Nothing,” Justin said.
“I want to search his car, but I can’t go near it.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“No. The garage has cameras. This can’t connect to me. For all I know, I could be getting framed for this too. You don’t need to implicate yourself.”
“So am I getting the next week and a half off too?”
“Not exactly.” I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. You can walk if you want. I’ll understand, but I could use the help. I don’t have anyone else I can ask.”
“How can I walk when you say shit like that?”
“Don’t be smart. It is up to you.”
He rolled his eyes. “You know I got your back. Where do we begin?”
Before I could answer, Amir came through the door. He looked at the nearly empty office, one eyebrow lifting in question. “You said you needed me to analyze something.” He put his bag down on Gloria’s desk and took out some papers. “I hope it’s less complicated than your previous request.”
“I need to know if the blood belongs to the owner of this toothbrush.” I held out the sandwich bags.
Amir didn’t even reach for them, his eyebrow arching even higher. “Is this a test?”
“No, I’m serious.”
“You just want to know if they match?”
“Yes.”
Amir sighed and took the bags from my hand. “Okay, I can do that. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours, possibly a day, to run the comparison. It’ll depend on how degraded the samples are.” He examined the bristles of the toothbrush through the plastic before tucking them inside his bag. “Here.” He held out a folder.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“The last assignment you gave me. There’s not a lot here. I checked the data and came up with a list of cell phone users in the area at the dates and times in question. Just because those phones pinged those towers, it doesn’t mean they were in the van or even in the vicinity of the pawn shop or self-storage facility. I just wanted you to know I did what you asked.”
I took the folder and flipped through the dozens of pages. “There are a lot of names here.”
“I told you it’d be pointless to do this.”
I skimmed past the list to the rest of the information Amir had dug up regarding the security system and original break-in at Knox’s house. “Maybe not.”
“What is it?” Justin asked, intrigued by our conversation. “Who’s on the list?”
I stared at the cell data from Knox’s neighborhood at the time of the break-in. “You’re sure Trey Knox’s cell phone was in the vicinity when his security system was dismantled and his house was broken into?”
“The nearest towers pinged his phone. He even sent a text message within ten minutes of the time and date you gave me.” Amir pointed to the data on the page. “He was somewhere nearby.”
“The bastard said he was at the office. He lied. Do you think he was at home when they broke in?” I asked.
“Like I said before, I can’t narrow it down that precisely,” Amir said. “He might have been on his way home or he could have been anywhere within the vicinity of these two cell towers.”
“Why would he lie about where he was at the time of the break-in?” Justin asked.
“He didn’t want the police to know what happened. After all, he didn’t even want us to know who was responsible or why they targeted him. He’s covering something up. I just don’t know what.”
“But if he was there when someone broke into his place, wouldn’t they have hurt him?” Amir asked.
“Not necessarily.” I wasn’t sure why they wouldn’t. Then again, Vasili didn’t try to hurt me the first time we met, not physically. Perhaps, he’d made Knox a similar offer. “Get me the results of the DNA test as quickly as possible, and keep this between us.”
“Whatever you want, Mr. Cross.” Amir picked up the bag. “I’ll call you as soon as I have the results.”
Thirty-six
The blood from the drain matched the DNA sample from the toothbrus
h. Since that was the only toothbrush in the bathroom and Trey Knox had told me he didn’t like to entertain overnight guests, I had to believe it belonged to him. Amir had told me the sample was male, AB negative.
“Don’t even think about it,” Justin warned. “Hacking medical records is a million different kinds of wrong. There are other ways to find out if Knox is AB negative.”
“I don’t need to hack them. I know it’s his blood,” I said resolutely, “just like that’s his toothbrush. What I don’t know is what happened to him.” Thoughts of the scuff marks on the hardwood floor came to mind. “Someone dragged him.” Considering the lack of significant amounts of blood on the floor, Knox couldn’t have been too severely injured, unless he’d been wrapped in some kind of plastic sheeting. Glass shower doors didn’t have shower curtains. If it had been a regular shower with an empty shower rod, I would have thought Knox’s abductor wrapped his body in the curtain and dragged him out, but that wouldn’t explain the scuff marks.
“Your forehead’s doing that prune thing.”
I tore my eyes away from the DNA results. “I’ll ask about Botox when I visit the plastic surgeon. Will that make you happy?” Pulling myself out of the chair, I stretched one leg, then the other. The frigid water and stress had done a number on my back. I might need a consultation or a few more sessions in physical therapy to get everything back in proper working order, assuming whoever took Knox didn’t come for me next.
“You’re only in your late twenties. You should wait until you hit thirty before getting work done. Or is it already too late for that? When’s your birthday? Somehow, the date has slipped my mind.”
I glanced up at him, confused why he was bothering me with this nonsense. And that’s when I realized he was freaked out, just like I was. “Look, it’s cool. I got this. Go home. Wash your hands of this mess. I’ll take care of it.”
“No. I’m staying.” He watched as I shifted my hips from side to side, wincing as I moved. “I’ll make an appointment with your doctor.” He reached for the phone. “Were you shot again?”
“Not that I know of.”
He snickered uncomfortably. “I’d think you’d know.”
“Hopefully.”
While he made the call, I examined the intel I’d gathered on Knox. Until the police started their own investigation, I shouldn’t poke around. Mr. Almeada had advised against it.
But Knox had been taken. The lack of a substantial amount of blood probably meant he was alive. He must have been in the shower when he was attacked. That would explain the broken shower door and the blood I’d found in the drain and the few droplets on the bathroom floor. But since there hadn’t been spatter, Knox’s injuries must have been minor.
Given the parallel and nearly identical scuff marks, I had to assume Knox had been allowed to dress after the incident in the shower. He must have put on his shoes before the abductor dragged him out of the bedroom. But why drag a conscious man? Knox could have put up a fight and had to be subdued. But the drag marks stopped at the bedroom door. Did he stop fighting and walk out on his own volition at that point? Or did the abductor have a friend who helped carry Knox’s body out of the house?
Someone grabbed the hard drives on the way out, which made the security system useless. The guards at the gate might know something, but they didn’t remember seeing Knox drive away. Could they be in on it?
I was in the middle of running a background check on the guards I’d spoken to today, which was the second time I’d investigated them, when a couple of police detectives came knocking. Automatically, I hit the power button on the computer.
“Lucien Cross?” the older one asked. From the badge he held out, I knew he’d been on the force for a while.
“Sergeant,” I said.
“Detective,” he corrected, even though he had earned the rank of sergeant, “Moretti. This is Detective Renner.” He indicated the younger, eager man standing beside him.
“Newbie?” I asked.
Moretti snorted, as if it were an inside joke just between us. “Do you have a few moments to spare, Mr. Cross?”
“Not particularly.”
Moretti didn’t pay attention to a word I said. “We’ll make this brief. I just have a few questions concerning your whereabouts this morning.”
“What about them?” I bit my tongue before I said something flippant about jaywalking or traffic violations.
“You stopped by Trey Knox’s house around eleven.”
“That’s not a question.”
“What happened to your face?” Renner asked.
I turned to him. “Kickboxing class.”
He touched his own nose absently. “First lesson?”
“No.”
“You might need a refresher on the basics, like not getting hit in the face,” Renner said.
I kept my expression neutral, though I had some suggestions I would have loved to share with him.
Moretti sidestepped, so he could stand in front of Renner. It was practically the equivalent of locking a misbehaving puppy in another room. “When’s the last time you saw Mr. Knox?”
“Yesterday. He came to the office to speak to me,” I said.
“Concerning.”
“A case. He hired me to find some stolen property.”
“Did you?” Moretti asked.
“Find it?” I didn’t want to answer. Gallo suspected I’d called in the tip, as did Sgt. Rostokowski. I just didn’t know if these two detectives had the same inkling. “What division did you say you work for? Robbery should be all over it, or is it called burglary? I never keep those two straight. Someone has my information.”
“Mr. Knox’s property was recovered by the police due to an anonymous tip.” Moretti stared at me with unyielding eyes. “What else did Knox want to discuss?”
“Our conversation’s privileged.”
“No privilege exists between security personnel and their clients,” Moretti said.
“We could have an NDA.”
Moretti chuckled. “I was warned you’d be a pain in the ass. Look, let’s just cut to the chase. Trey Knox never showed up to work yesterday. He didn’t return home until after midnight last night. The guards at the gate remember seeing him leave his house this morning, but he didn’t go to work. His boss called and asked us to check on him.”
“It sounds like he’s playing hooky.”
“Probably.” Moretti stared at me. “Except, aside from automated gate logs and the guards glimpsing his car entering and leaving, no one’s seen him except you.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“Did you see him?” Moretti turned to Justin who’d done his best to blend into the background.
“Yesterday, yeah. He was here,” Justin said.
“When did he leave?” Moretti asked.
Justin shrugged. “I didn’t notice the time.”
“Ballpark estimate,” Moretti said.
“It was after dark,” I said. “I left the office around seven.”
Renner jotted down a note while Moretti continued to stare at Justin.
“Is that right?” he asked.
“Sounds right,” Justin said.
“I thought you were going to make this brief, Detective. We might not look it, but we’re very busy,” I said.
Moretti smiled, as if we were old chums. “You’re right. Sorry about that. I get distracted easily. ADHD or OCD or some other acronym for catching on to little things that don’t make a lot of sense.”
“I’m starting to feel harassed,” I said. “Justin, are you feeling harassed?”
“Should I call Mr. Almeada, your attorney?” Justin asked.
“That won’t be necessary,” Moretti said. “No one’s being harassed.”
“How about harangued?” I asked.
“That’s not a legal issue the last time I checked,” Moretti said. “I just have a few quick questions about this morning, and then we’ll get out of your hair. Did you go inside Knox’s hou
se this morning?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Did you notice anything amiss?”
“Yeah, I noticed he wasn’t there. I wouldn’t have gone inside if I’d known, but the door was open. I thought he left it that way for me. When I couldn’t find him, I looked around. The shower door was broken, so I left and spoke to the guards at the gate. I figured Trey had tripped and fell. They told me he didn’t call for an ambulance, and that he’d driven away, so it couldn’t have been that serious. I don’t know any more than you do.”
Moretti continued the stare for another five seconds before turning and glancing at Renner. He jerked his chin toward the door. “Let’s go, kid.” Renner looked confused, but he obediently went to the door. I might be new to private security, but this homicide detective was still wet behind the ears. He couldn’t be any newer. At least that would work in my favor should anything damning turn up. Moretti turned back to me, a business card materializing in his hand. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Cross. If you hear from Mr. Knox, give me a call.”
“Sure thing.” I knew better than to ask, but I did anyway. “Is there any reason to think there’s something wrong? That something might have happened to him?”
“It’s probably nothing. Then again, your dad’s the commissioner. So you know the detective bureau doesn’t normally get involved if it’s nothing. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see. You take care of yourself, and get a steak on those eyes.”
Thirty-seven
After the police paid me a visit, I kept my own investigation to a minimum when it came to Knox’s disappearance. That barred me from a lot of avenues I would have liked to explore. I couldn’t risk asking questions or hacking surveillance cameras, not when a potential murder charge was hanging over my head. Svetlana’s body could surface at any time, possibly with Knox.
Almeada warned me to stay as far from murder investigations as I could get, but I couldn’t let forces beyond my control decide my fate. So I went back to my original leads and dug into the self-storage unit’s records. Eric Beaufort, the phony identity that had rented the unit Vasili used to hold his contraband, traced back to the Russian mafia. In fact, so did Mr. Lenmere. He’d taken a hefty payout from someone closely associated with Vasili in exchange for putting his name on the paperwork while Vasili used Lenmere LLC and its holdings to move merchandise.
