Past Crimes (Alexis Parker Book 20)

by G. K. Parks

  “And the FBI doesn’t have first aid kits or a medic on staff?”

  “I didn’t want to bother anyone. They don’t like me over there.”

  He applied the ointment to my scraped chin, examining the rest of my face for other signs of injury. “Are you sure you didn’t break anything? Stairs are dangerous, and you took quite the fall.”

  “You saw the footage?”

  “What I could make out through the smoke.”

  “Have you IDed the guy?”

  “Not yet.” He wrapped a bandage around the gash on my arm. “Are you sure you don’t need stitches?”

  I’d forgotten just how much he liked to play doctor. “Were you and Martin separated at birth?”

  “What?”

  “He patched me up this morning. Now you’re doing it. I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I.” He reached back into the first aid kit. “Do you want a band-aid for that?”

  “Only if it’s pink or has cartoon characters on it.”

  He ignored me, unwrapped the bandage, and stuck it to my face. “You don’t want it to get infected.”

  “It’s just a scrape.”

  Ignoring my protest, he closed the first aid kit, tossed the gloves in the trash, and put the box back in his drawer. “The LT has the full report, but we couldn’t pull prints off the smoke grenade we found next to the sergeant’s desk. He wore tactical gear, but it wasn’t ours. It looked high-end, private sector.”

  “The cop guarding the holding cells said the man who ordered him to evacuate had lieutenant bars. Why didn’t he notice the discrepancy?”

  “I dunno, but the unsub had a nameplate and Velcro identifiers. Maybe that’s why.” Heathcliff glanced around the bullpen, but no one seemed interested in us. “He grabbed them out of Lieutenant Avery’s bag.”

  “How?”

  “Avery stowed his gear in his car but found another way home. The man who attacked you broke into Avery’s car and stole his gear about an hour before the alarm was pulled.”

  I didn’t imagine it. I had seen someone lurking in the shadows. I should have said something the night before, but it was too late now. “Did the unsub take Avery’s body armor too?”

  “No, Avery doesn’t have a personal set he keeps in his car. What he has is provided by the department, which is kept in the squad cars and armory.”

  “That doesn’t mean the man who attacked me isn’t a cop.”

  Heathcliff ran a hand over his mouth. “I understand you didn’t get a good look at this guy last night. What about today?”

  “He wore a bandana. All I could see were his eyes. They were dark.”

  “Brown?”

  “Probably.”

  “That’s not much to go on.”

  “Have the sketch artist add it to the list.” I gingerly sat back in the chair. “What did the sergeant say? He must have gotten a better look at the guy. He should be able to give you a more accurate description.”

  “He didn’t recall much. Short, close-cropped hair, brown eyes, medium build, and average height. Nothing remarkable about him.”

  “Had he ever seen him before?” Last night, Moretti said he hadn’t, but I hoped that might have changed.

  “No.” Heathcliff’s gaze shifted to the computer screen. “I’m not sure if I can pull up the footage, but maybe you might recognize him.” He worked the mouse, growing frustrated. Finally, he found the footage. “These aren’t good angles.”

  I leaned in, but the camera only caught the top of the unsub’s head, a bit of his forehead, and his prominent brow line. “This is the best you can do?”

  “We’re working on it.” From his tone, the attack at the precinct had the police on edge. He closed the window. “The warning on your car, what was that about?”

  “Apparently, I don’t listen.”

  Heathcliff snorted. “No shit, really?”

  I gave his arm a shove. “Obviously, someone isn’t happy I’m poking around in Knox’s murder. The fact that he attacked Cross must mean he doesn’t want my boss to talk either, unless he figures killing Cross would close the case. Knox’s killer dies in lockup. The Knox murder is solved, and given how much the police department loathes Lucien Cross, the rest just gets swept under the rug.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Heathcliff warned. “You know I wouldn’t do that. Neither would Moretti nor any of the cops you know.”

  “Sorry,” I said. His expression eased. “IAD must be riding everyone’s ass.”

  “You could say that. It’s only gotten worse now that they’ve heard the FBI is getting involved.” He leaned in. “How sure are you this asshole’s a cop?”

  The bullpen was practically empty, but to be on the safe side, I lowered my voice. “Fifty-fifty.”

  “Walk me through your logic.”

  “The only people who even knew I’d be at the bank this morning were Almeada, possibly Cross, and the police. I didn’t use the company car because of trackers, but someone still could have tracked my movements. Cross Security probably records the data on that lowjack Martin saddled me with, and the police were there this morning confiscating everything. The man who vandalized my car could have figured out where I was that way, or he found out when the bank called the precinct to verify my story.”

  “Do you think he planned to hurt you?”

  I hadn’t thought about that. “Probably not. I surprised him. I’m guessing he would have just carved up my car and left. Thinking back, the unsub didn’t attack me outside the holding cells either. He just wanted to escape. As far as I can tell, the only person he intended to hurt was Cross.”

  “If he wanted to hurt him.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m just speculating.”

  But it was more than that. “The precinct has tons of cameras. He must have gotten caught on one of them.”

  “We analyzed the CCTV feeds, but they’re inconclusive. The man who attacked you never looked up at the cameras.”

  “Like he knew where they were?”

  “Possibly.”

  “See?”

  Heathcliff worked his jaw. “I’m not supposed to tell you any of this, but since Jablonsky’s involved, you’ll hear it anyway.” He took a folder off the stack and laid it open in front of me. “You want some coffee?”

  “Sure.” While he was gone, I skimmed the file. The same brand and lot number of smoke grenades used during last night’s attack was kept in the munitions cabinet at Cross Security.

  A moment later, Heathcliff placed a steaming mug in front of me, closed the folder, and put it back on the stack. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes spoke volumes. After blowing on the steam, he took a careful sip and waited for me to say something.

  “You think the unsub works for Cross?”

  “You mean one of your coworkers?” Heathcliff shifted in his chair, forcing me to look at him. “Or do you think Cross hired someone else?”

  “Like a fixer?”

  “Or a hitter. After all, he hired you to fix this, right? So you’re the fixer. What better way to convince you of his innocence than by hiring someone to scare you and maybe beat you up a little.” Heathcliff glanced at the report. “You said you didn’t think the man today was armed, but the one you thought might have left the note on your car was. It stands to reason Cross doesn’t want you dead, just freaked out enough to believe someone is framing him. The man who allegedly attacked him last night could have snapped his neck, stabbed him, shot him, or killed him a million other ways. But he didn’t. Have you asked yourself why?”

  “Cross might have gotten lucky. If I hadn’t shown up, he might have had the life choked out of him.”

  “Possibly, but it’s something to think about.”

  “I’ve already thought about it.”

  “And?”

  “I won’t know anything until I speak to Cross.” I turned at the sound of Jablonsky’s booming voice reverberating through the bullpen despite Moretti’s office
door being closed. “We should probably do something about that.”

  “Agreed.”

  Heathcliff followed me to Moretti’s office, where I knocked softly on the door and entered without waiting for an invitation. Heathcliff stepped into the cramped room and pulled the door shut.

  Moretti glared at Jablonsky. “I’d forgotten just how cantankerous you are. Shouldn’t your near-death experience have given you a new lease on life? You should be grateful for my help.”

  “I am,” Jablonsky shouted, too teed up to control his volume, “but if one of yours is threatening Parker, I have a big problem with that. The entire Bureau has a problem with it. And you, of all people, should have a problem with it.”

  “I’m looking into it,” Moretti said. “I told her that last night.”

  “And today, the situation escalated.”

  “These things take time.”

  “The bank manager called. The police knew where I was,” I said.

  “I’m aware.” Moretti retook his seat and read the info on his screen. “No viable prints were found on the trash cans. I’d say we should check your car, but apparently, the Bureau has already towed it away.”

  “We’ll let you know what we find,” Jablonsky said.

  “Was it the same man you saw at the airport?” Moretti asked me. “The same man from last night?”

  “I can’t say with one hundred percent certainty, but I think so.”

  Moretti zeroed in on Heathcliff. “Officers already canvassed the area, but take a ride and see what you can find out. Flash your badge and collect as much surveillance footage as possible. This guy must have gotten spotted somewhere. I want to know who he is.”

  “Yes, sir.” Heathcliff ducked out of the office.

  “Sit down, Jabber. You shouldn’t get this worked up. You’ll give yourself an aneurysm.” Moretti gestured to the chair beside where Jablonsky stood. “You’ve known me long enough. You ought to know by now I won’t tolerate a cop abusing his position, taking the law into his own hands, or retaliating against anyone, especially Parker.”

  Jablonsky sunk into the chair. “Have you heard any whispers?”

  Moretti stared up at me. “I can’t discuss this in front of a civilian, especially one hired by a suspect’s attorney.”

  “Didn’t you want to speak to Cross?” Mark asked me.

  “Has Mr. Almeada arrived yet?” I asked.

  Moretti shook his head. “He’s at Cross’s apartment. He’ll be here once we’ve completed the search. Cross is back in his cell if you want to see him.” He picked up his phone, dialed an extension, told the guys in holding to tell Cross to expect a visitor, and hung up.

  Nodding my thanks, I let myself out of his office and headed down the stairs. Lucien barely spoke when we were alone inside an interrogation room. I doubted he’d speak to me while in a holding cell, but I had questions that needed answering.

  Twenty-one

  Cross remained segregated in his own private holding cell. He had gotten a blue rubber ball from somewhere and was bouncing it off the wall. From the expression on his face, his thoughts must have rivaled those of escape artists and mass murderers.

  “Planning to take out the entire precinct with that blue ball of yours?”

  He caught it on the return bounce. “Where’s Almeada?”

  “Supervising the police while they search your apartment.”

  “It’s a waste of time. There’s nothing for them to find.” He put it down on the bench and tapped a spot on his chin while eyeing me. “Is that from last night?”

  “No, this a remnant from my morning trip to the bank.”

  “What happened? Did you trip on the sidewalk?” Cross turned to look at the three uniformed cops positioned at the desk.

  “Funny.” I moved closer to the bars. “How are you doing? What did the doctors say?”

  “They don’t know why I passed out, but I’m guessing this,” he indicated the bruise on his neck, “had something to do with it.”

  “Why didn’t he kill you?”

  Cross cleared his throat. Based on the dark circles beneath his eyes and the red around his irises, he hadn’t slept. Was that due to fear or guilt? “Is that your way of asking for a thank you?”

  “You need to tell me what’s going on.”

  “How should I know?”

  “You went to the bank. How did you know about the safe deposit box?”

  “Lower your voice,” he hissed.

  “Answer the question.”

  “Get me out of here, and I will.”

  “That’s not how this works.”

  “You work for me. This works the way I say it does.”

  I let out a huff, cycling through a long list of retorts. But verbally sparring with him was a waste of time. We’d end up irritated, and neither of us would be satisfied. “Where’d you get the ball?”

  “What?”

  “Who gave you the blue ball?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are you enjoying saying that?”

  “Tell me where you got it.”

  “Who cares?”

  “Did you bribe an orderly?”

  “Ms. Parker, what do you want from me?”

  “Either tell me about the bank or tell me about that.” I pointed at the rubber ball which might pop under the pressure of his closed fist. “It’s your choice.”

  “Have the police searched my office yet?”

  “Answer my question first.”

  He grumbled, stuffing his fists into his pockets. After clearing his throat, he said, “One of the desk sergeants gave it to me. She thought I looked bored.”

  “I need her name.” The only desk sergeant I could think of was the one who volunteered to accompany him to the hospital. Jade said he had friends in the department. I wanted to know who they were, and this might be the quickest way to find out.

  “Why does it matter?”

  “It could be important.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “Fine. How did you know about Knox’s safe deposit box?”

  His eyes went wide, warning me to back off. “Not here.”

  “You have to tell me something, Lucien. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” I paced in front of his cell. Moretti didn’t need DNA to know Knox’s body had been found. The ring gave it away. Cross wouldn’t have needed DNA to know that was Knox either, which meant plenty of cops knew Knox’s body had been found near the airport before the DNA results came back. As soon as the ME finished photographing the remains, Knox’s shoes and clothing were passed along to evidence collection. That’s when the police would have found the key. Safe deposit box keys looked unique, and the bank’s initials were etched onto it, just beneath the box number. “You have friends who are cops. Tell me about them.”

  “What?”

  “I’m guessing someone tipped you off. That person had to be a cop.” I didn’t know if the same person gave him the ball, but it was possible. “Jade mentioned you’ve gone to KC’s on occasion. In case you didn’t realize it, that’s a cop bar.”

  “Jade?” His voice was so low I could barely hear him, but his tone made my skin crawl. From the crazed look in his eye, he’d physically rip me apart if he could. “She has nothing to do with any of this. Leave her alone.”

  “I would, but you won’t answer my questions. You refuse to help yourself.” I inhaled which caused a sharp stabbing pain in my chest and back. “Who attacked you?”

  He lunged toward the bars, stopping just short of hitting them. “I don’t know,” he spat.

  “The bastard kicked me down the steps when I chased after him. He used a smoke grenade to conceal his presence, the same kind of smoke grenades the security teams at Cross Security keep on hand. Do you want to explain that to me?”

  “What’s to explain?” He cleared his throat, growing more agitated. “It’s a smoke grenade.”

  “The bastard left a note on my car yesterday. The company car, for clarification. And thi
s morning, he keyed my car and broke the windshield. I’m gonna need you to fix that.”

  He squinted. “You think I did this?”

  “I don’t know what to think. You won’t tell me what’s going on. You have secrets. A lot of things don’t make sense. The police arrested you due to the circumstances and the recording, but then I find out you were at the bank before the body had even been positively identified. What do you expect me to think?”

  “I expect you to believe me when I say I didn’t kill Knox. He had enemies. Surely, one of them is responsible.”

  “I agree. Right now, the man who’s repeatedly threatened me to back off this case and went through all that elaborate planning to attack you inside the precinct’s holding cell should be on the top of the suspect list, but he’s not, at least as far as the police are concerned.”

  “What do you think?”

  “If the unsub from last night killed Knox, why didn’t he try harder to kill you and me?”

  “He tried.” Cross jerked his chin at the bandage on my arm. “It looks like he tried to silence you too.”

  “Did he? He could have shot us. Stabbed us. Snapped your neck like a twig.”

  “According to what I was told, you intervened in the nick of time. Next time, show up two minutes later, and maybe you’ll get the outcome you want.”

  “I don’t want you dead, Lucien. I just want to know what’s going on.”

  “It’s obvious. The police are framing me. One of them went to a lot of effort to attack me while I’m vulnerable.”

  “You think the unsub’s a cop?”

  “Don’t you?” He stared daggers at me. “Isn’t that the point of your questions?”

  “The unsub could be a cop, the killer, one of his associates, or someone you hired.”

  “You better hope I never get out of here.”

  I snorted, even though his words triggered the warning bells in my brain. “You won’t, unless you help me help you. And after the morning I’ve had, I’m reconsidering everything. So I’m giving you five seconds to tell me how you knew about the safe deposit box, or I’m walking away. And you can rot in here.”