Murder 42 - A Thriller (Sarah King Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  Stefan pressed his face against the window to get a good look at the door. The sensor there was near the top, down about five inches. He hurried over to the door and took out a metal clip the size of a credit card, something he’d picked up on an outing to Mexico. The clip had small hooks on the end, and he looked around again before inserting the tip of the device into the door near the lock. He felt it pinch on the metal of the lock and pulled, the lock clicking open. Then he took out the package of gum he’d brought with him. He unwrapped one, stuck the gum in his mouth, and flattened the aluminum wrapper.

  Slowly, he opened the door. He pressed the wrapper against the receiver and held the door in place a moment, holding his breath, before he pushed it open. The alarm didn’t go off. He took the gum out of his mouth and used it as putty to press the aluminum wrapper into place over the receiver.

  The danger was that Jay had a motion detector. Normally they would be up in the corners of the rooms, but he didn’t see any. He moved carefully through the kitchen and back rooms before coming into the living room. He sat at the computer and pressed a button. It woke up: he hadn’t shut it off.

  Stefan checked the browser history and went to Gmail. He went to the Sent file and found the email Jay had sent. His eyes went down to the body of the email:

  Shit’s getting hot. Get rid of all of the videos. Burn the fuckers.

  That was all it said. Stefan debated what to do next. He was in this man’s home illegally. He couldn’t very well get a subpoena over to an IP host and get the identification of the person who owned that email. Stefan tapped his finger against his lips as he thought. Then, he began typing.

  Change of plans. Shit’s REALLY hit the fan. Can’t talk now. Meet me on the corner of Duster and Weston. NOW!!!

  He quickly searched Gmail for any other emails to that address and found a few but nothing really of interest to him. He closed the browser and rose. The temptation was simply too great. He had to see what secrets Jay was hiding here.

  He ran up the steps, his eyes scanning the corners of the ceiling for motion detectors. When he reached the top step, he looked out over the entire house and didn’t see any motion detectors: Jay hadn’t sprung for them.

  The bedroom up there was massive, bigger than Stefan’s entire condo. A bed the size of a small pool took up most of the space with a hot tub out on the balcony.

  He began going through medicine cabinets and drawers. He found a small bottle marked “antibiotics” in the medicine cabinet, but it had a green, leafy substance inside. The scent told him it was marijuana. He pocketed the bottle.

  A massive walk-in closet sat in the bedroom, but there was nothing of note, no hidden compartments holding incriminating evidence. Why he thought there would be something like that he had no idea. Jay was careful. But apparently not careful enough. Selling extreme child pornography to random customers didn’t seem like a good long-term plan for staying in business. Maybe it was mutually assured destruction: if the person buying the video decided to call the police, he would be charged with purchase and possession of child porn, a charge only a step down from making and distributing child porn. Maybe Jay knew what he was doing. Then again, Virgil had cracked and led them to him.

  A few more rooms took up the rest of the floor, but he found nothing other than a massive sex toy collection, including a three-foot dildo that stuck to the floor with a suction cup. Other than that, it was just a plain old house.

  When Stefan had left the house, he made sure no neighbors were out. He drove up the block and then headed for the interstate. The corner of Duster and Weston was in the industrial portion of the city, where plastics and chemical compounds were made—neither of which he knew anything about. But he did know it was out of the way with few people around.

  The specific corner he had picked had a chain-link fence on one side and a massive warehouse on the other, with nothing but empty fields everywhere else. In effect, someone on that corner could run either into the warehouse or into the surrounding fields, neither of which were good options for someone running from the cops.

  Stefan took up a spot across the street. He entered the building, a plant that manufactured sports supplements, and stared out the windows onto the corner. A receptionist, a young brunette with straight hair that came down to her shoulders, said, “Um, excuse me, can I help you?”

  “No thanks,” he said. “Hey, actually, you guys got any bottled water? I’m freakin’ parched over here.”

  She shook her head, not taking her eyes off him. He shrugged and turned back to the window.

  The sun lit everything brightly, reflecting off the smooth metal surfaces of the warehouse in pinpoints of white light that left after-images in his vision. He wished he’d thought to grab his sunglasses out of the car.

  After about half an hour, a blue Altima pulled up and parked in front of the warehouse and a lone male occupant looked around. Then he picked up his phone. Stefan ran out. He ran across the street and knocked on the window, and smiled widely. The driver rolled the window down.

  He looked like a relic of the late ’80s: curly long hair, aviator glasses, and a leopard skin vest over a white T-shirt.

  “Hey, there,” Stefan said. “Sorry to bug you. My car broke down and my cell phone’s dead. Ain’t that the shit? Just when you need it most, huh? Anywho, I was hoping I could use your phone.”

  “Fuck off, mate,” he said in a thick British accent.

  “Look, I just want to use the phone, man. Half a minute. I’ll pay you for the call.”

  “Go use a phone in one of them shops. Now I said fuck off.”

  Stefan saw the man’s eyes go down and widen. Stefan looked down to see that his suit coat was open, revealing his gun holster. The man looked up, and Stefan reached for the weapon.

  The man gunned it. “Hey!” Stefan shouted. The car peeled out, screeching away from the warehouse and up the road. Stefan took aim, debated firing, and then put his gun away as he sprinted to his car and jumped in. He left a trail of smoke behind as he peeled out, twisting the car around in a U-turn. Then he pressed the accelerator to the floor and shot forward.

  The Altima had at least a block on him, but it was going in a straight line. Stefan swerved over into the middle of the road to have more room. As he passed an intersection, he glanced down both sides. A car barreled toward him from the left. He kept his foot on the gas. The car blared its horn and swerved to miss him, nailing a stop sign on the corner and flinging it into the street.

  Stefan let his car drift to the right, keeping it in line right behind the Altima, when the Altima slammed on its brakes. It swung to the right down a different road. Stefan swung out and cranked around the corner after him at top speed, the tires screaming underneath him as he went wide and clipped the curb.

  The Altima wasn’t that far ahead, now. The man was indecisive, scared. He hadn’t made up his mind whether running was a good idea or not; he’d just done it and wasn’t sure he’d made the right call.

  Stefan honked his horn and gestured for him to pull over and the okay sign, hoping to calm him, if the man could even see the gestures in his rearview mirror. But the Altima didn’t stop. He feigned another right turn and then rocketed to the left. Stefan stayed on him.

  In a burst of power, the Altima shot forward and blew through a red light. Several cars had to swerve, their horns blaring as they crashed, the sound of twisting metal filling the street. Stefan slammed on his brakes and swerved to the right and then the left, barely missing a white truck that had been struck in the intersection.

  The Altima wasn’t slowing. Just as Stefan was considering whether to call it in to the local cops and get some support, the other driver made a mistake.

  The Altima attempted to blow through another red light. This time, it didn’t make it.

  It was struck on the right side so hard it nearly flipped over. Stefan had to swing the steering wheel over to avoid colliding. He slammed on his brakes and screeched to a stop.

  H
e jumped out of the car, his gun drawn. A woman in the car that had hit the Altima screamed, blood pouring down her face. Stefan ran past her to the Altima. The man was slumped over the steering wheel. Stefan took out his phone and dialed 911.

  27

  “Stefan’s not answering his phone,” Gio said as he crossed the atrium and stood outside with Sarah.

  Sarah glanced back at him. She sat in the shadow of California Bill’s home as the Scientific Investigation Unit of the LAPD took apart the bathroom upstairs. They hadn’t found anything immediately in the bathtub so they began taking apart the pipes, cutting into the walls to pull some of the pipes out. They would run them under black light after spraying some substance on them that smelled like fingernail polish. They took hair samples from the clogs in the drains and searched for fingernails. Gio had given them specific instructions to look for anything belonging to a woman who might’ve overdosed in the bathtub.

  Gio sat down next to her. “This is the only case on his plate right now. He should answer his phone.”

  “Maybe it ran out of power or something. My phone dies all the time because I forget to charge it.”

  He shook his head. “No, he’d have to have it on at all times. He’d plug it in somewhere and wait. Something’s going on.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” He looked out over the property and then back at her. “You doing okay?”

  “Fine. I just need a break.”

  “From the girl?”

  She nodded. “She doesn’t understand what’s going on. It’s too painful to watch.”

  “I can’t even imagine the things you see. I mean, you have a girl murdered who’s sitting there, and she hasn’t talked to anyone but you in who knows how long. How do you deal with that? You’ve got to be a special kind of strong.”

  “That’s sweet, but strong is the last word I would use to describe myself.”

  “How would you describe yourself?”

  “Just… sad. I’m sad for her.”

  He looked out again and waited a few seconds before saying, “If they find something, they’ll need something to match it to.”

  “I know. You want me to ask her where he buried her.”

  “If it’s too painful, don’t do it.”

  “No. I mean, yes, it is, but I want to help her. Maybe this will bring her some type of peace.”

  He reached over and lightly held her hand. “You ready?”

  She nodded and stood up. He kept hold of her hand as they went into the living room. Heather wasn’t there. Sarah searched the entire living room and then the kitchen.

  “What’s wrong?” Gio said.

  “She’s not here.”

  Sarah raced upstairs and looked in the bathroom. Three techs were carefully analyzing several pieces of pipe, holes cut into the wall and pieces of steel and PVC pipe spread neatly on the floor, but no Heather.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “She’s gone, Gio.”

  Sarah dashed through the upstairs and then went downstairs again, standing before the couch where she’d seen the girl twice.

  “Heather?” Sarah said loudly. “Heather, are you here? I need to speak with you. Heather?”

  The two of them waited a minute, and then Sarah turned to him and said, “I’m sorry.”

  “Can you bring her back?”

  “No, that’s not how this works. I get glimpses, flashes… like a puzzle that’s missing pieces. Every once in a while I get to speak to one of them. She’s gone. There’s nothing I can do.”

  Gio put his hands on his hips and stared at the couch. “Unless the techs come up with a miracle, I think California Bill just had a lucky day.”

  28

  Stefan could’ve taken the driver of the Altima back to the Bureau’s field office in Phoenix, but he didn’t want the man to have time to think. Everything was fresh and shocking right now. So he called ahead and got clearance to go to a local precinct for the Scottsdale PD.

  The precinct building looked like some old Mexican villa. Made almost entirely of brick and wood, he had to admit it actually looked quite beautiful. He could certainly picture himself coming here every day.

  He went in with the man in handcuffs and checked with a Detective Hughes, who directed him to an interrogation room that didn’t have a camera: something Stefan had specifically asked for. The room was bare except for the table and two chairs, and Stefan sat the man down in one. He sat in the other.

  The man hadn’t spoken at all on the drive over. He kept his eyes low and breathed deeply, as though preparing to take a blow. Stefan had tried chit-chatting with him several times, but he was unresponsive.

  “I know you don’t want to talk and that’s fine,” Stefan said, leaning back in the chair. “But I want you to know that I’m not after you. I’m not even after Jay. I’m after the sick bastard who made the Murder 42 video.” Stefan leaned forward, waiting until the man looked up before he spoke again. “I want him. And you’re gonna help me. And then, I’m going to take you to the hospital.”

  “I ain’t gonna do shit, Cowboy. Now I want a lawyer and to use the fuckin’ bathroom.”

  Stefan grinned. “They’re processing your fingerprints right now. I’ll have your identity and home address in a few minutes. I’m going to get a warrant to search your house. What do you think I’m going to find there?”

  “Search anything you want.”

  Stefan nodded slowly. “How do you think I found you? Jay is helping me. He’s looking at a fifty-five-year sentence and will do anything to get out of it. He’s burning bridges, and you’re the first on his list.”

  “Jay wouldn’t do that.”

  He chuckled. “Why? ’Cause he’s such a stand-up guy? What would you do to get out of a fifty-five-year prison sentence?”

  The man grew visibly upset, his lips curling and uncurling. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “That bloody bastard! I told him to keep his mouth shut and we’d all get out of this.”

  “The video. That’s all I care about. What do you know about it?”

  “Jay got a hold of it. He got it from some guy in LA.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.”

  “What’d he pay for it?”

  “Nothing.”

  Stefan stared at him in silence for a moment. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not. Bloke in LA sent it to him with a letter saying it was his for free.”

  “Why would someone just send a video like that to Jay?”

  He shrugged. “Who the fuck knows? But that’s what happened. Then Jay started selling it.”

  “What’s your involvement in all this?” Stefan asked, already knowing that he would paint himself as the least culpable.

  “Nothing. He’d have me store the videos. That’s it.”

  “Store them?”

  “Yeah. Nobody stores videos like that on their computers or in their house anymore. They take it off site. Keep everything somewhere that can’t be traced back to them.”

  “Where do you keep the videos?”

  He shook his head. “No, not yet. I want a lawyer to make sure I’m not gettin’ it in the ass for all this. Once I know that, I’ll tell you everything.”

  Stefan tapped his fingers against the table a few times and then stood up. “I’ll get you your lawyer and someone to take you to the hospital. But if you screw me on this, I will make sure you never leave a prison cell. Understood?”

  The man nodded, seemingly pleased with himself.

  Stefan exited the precinct. He’d have to call the U.S. Attorney’s Office and clear some sort of deal for this guy. He had no choice. He had no other leads to follow, and Jay, who was probably the most culpable, wouldn’t reveal anything.

  His phone rang. It was Gio.

  “Hey, chief,” Stefan said.

  “Your phone off, man?”

  “No, sorry, I was busy. Had it on vibrate. Where are you guys by th
e way?”

  “Had some things to follow up on in LA. Where are you?”

  “Followed Jay around and… well, I’ll explain all that later. Basically we got a guy willing to flip on Jay in exchange for immunity. He says he’s just, like, a courier, I guess. He says nobody keeps child porn anywhere that can be linked back to them. So this guy takes the videos and stores them somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “He won’t tell me until immunity’s in place, but I’ll find out. Made me think of California Bill, though. Nothing in the house, but maybe he stores everything offsite like Jay?”

  “I thought that. He’s a tough fucker, though. Won’t say anything.”

  Stefan looked back at the precinct. “I’ve got some calls to make. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Thanks.”

  Stefan hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He watched a couple of officers taking their bagels out to their cars, cups of coffee in hand, laughing and joking. He hadn’t done that with someone from work in a long time. The FBI was far lonelier than local police departments. Though the pay and prestige were better, he sometimes missed just having other people around.

  He sighed and then got into his car while he pulled up the number to the local U.S. Attorney’s Office.

  29

  Sarah was pacing outside of California Bill’s house when Gio came out. He stood next to her and looked down at the gravel driveway, kicking around a few stones with his wingtips. Finally, he spoke. “Techs didn’t turn up anything. We’re done here.”

  Sarah shook her head. “He covered up that girl’s death, Gio. He’s got something to do with that video. We can’t just leave.”

  “We have to. There’s nothing else we can do. I might be able to get a tap on his phone and follow up with that, but that’s it. We’re done.”

  “No, I won’t accept that.”

  “What can we do?”

  She sat on the hood of their car. The sun had come up a half hour ago, but the frost of morning still hung in the air. The birds chirped, and she couldn’t hear many car engines. This was her favorite part of the day: when everyone else hadn’t woken up yet.