False Witness (John Steel series Book 3) (10 page)

“Sir, these are detectives McCall and Steel,” Daphne explained. “They’re here about Edward.”

The editor nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Daphne, that’ll be all for now.”

The woman turned slowly and winked at Steel as she exited, leaving them alone to talk.

“I am Daniel Cruise, the editor,” the man went on, “and if I can help in any way I’ll be only too pleased.” He ushered them to sit as he sat down again.

“Mr Cruise, I believe you were on the phone to him when it happened?” Sam McCall began.

The man thought for a moment and nodded. A look of shock at what he might have heard disturbed him. “Yes, Edward had just gotten home and he called me up about a story he was working on, he said he was almost ready to publish it, but he just needed one more bit of evidence and he was good to go.”

“What was he working on?” Steel asked as McCall set up the mini recorder and placed it on the desk.

“I don’t know really, but it was something he had been working on for a long time, I know that. All he could say for sure was that the proof he had would put someone behind bars forever. Something that happened around ten or twelve years ago.” Cruise shrugged and shook his head. “Sorry, that’s all I know.”

McCall nodded, her eyes locked onto his, searching for anything that might indicate he knew more.

“How well did you know him?” she asked, whilst taking a quick look at the amazing view from the large window behind him.

“Quite well. But then he had been working here for some time. I didn’t know him outside of work, it was a boss/employee relationship. I mean we didn’t hit the town or play poker on a Friday night sort of thing.” Cruise smiled, trying to lighten the conversation, but his thoughts crept back to that phone call.

“Can you think of any reason anyone would want to hurt him?” McCall asked. “A story he had done, maybe?”

Cruise shook his head as he leant back in his chair and placed his hands together against his lips, almost as if he was saying a prayer.

“No, there was nothing. Sure, he had done some stories in the past but that was more Bosnia and Kosovo pieces. Lately it had been cab wars or stories about this and that but nothing that would get him killed.”

Steel got up and wandered round the office, paying attention to the awards on the walls and photographs of places that Cruise had been to.

“What about the story he was working on?” McCall continued. “He must have kept notes or something?”

Cruise sat up and thought for a moment before buzzing for his assistant. The door opened and Daphne came back in, her eyes automatically gazing towards Steel, who was directly opposite the doorway; she tried to hide a secret smile.

“Daphne, can you take the detectives to Edward’s desk please? They would like to go through his notes.”

The woman seemed shocked. “But the police already have his stuff,” Daphne told them. “Someone came around this morning to collect it. They explained that other officers would come to do the interview and that they were just sent for his stuff.”

McCall stared at Daphne angrily, while the latter looked at Steel for comfort.

“What did they look like?” Sam demanded. “Were they in uniform or plain clothes?” McCall hammered question after question at the startled woman, until Steel grabbed Daphne and pulled her round to face him.

He smiled a gentle smile, his words soft and calming to her ears. “Okay, Daphne, what’s done is done. So try and remember what they looked like.”

Daphne looked at her reflection in his sunglasses, almost wishing it was his eyes she was gazing into. “They wore plain clothes like yourselves, there were two of them. One was a fat guy, kind of short, kind and scruffy looking with receding black hair.” She stopped to think for a moment. “The other one was kind of tall with blond hair, he was smartly dressed. I think he had a moustache.”

McCall took a note of the men’s descriptions as they walked towards Edward’s work station in one of the booths.

“I brought them here,” Daphne explained. “They didn’t search for anything, just packed what they could take away into boxes they had brought and then they just left.”

Steel sat at the desk and went through the drawers, only to find that they were empty.

“Did they say what they wanted the stuff for, or show you a warrant card?” McCall’s voice had softened but still had a sharp edge of anger.

“I guess I was still in shock when I heard he had been killed. I did try to ask them for identification, but they said someone would be back to follow up and answer any questions.”

McCall could see that the news of Edward’s death was still eating away at her and decided not to press her for now.

Steel stood up and turned to Cruise, who was rubbing Daphne’s shoulders to try and comfort her.

“Do you have surveillance cameras here?” he asked.

Cruise nodded. “You’re hoping we caught them on film?”

Steel smiled and gave a little shrug. “We can only hope. It may give us a lead on who took his stuff.”

Cruise reached down and picked up the receiver of Edward’s desk phone. “Brenda, get me security,” Cruise said into it. “Tell them I want any footage they’ve got from this morning. Thanks.” He replaced the receiver and looked over to McCall.

“I can get it sent to your department if you like?” he offered.

McCall shook her head. “It’s better if we pick it up, things seem to go missing so easily.”

Cruise smiled at her but this was a different kind of smile: it was full of admiration. “As you wish. Leave me your card and I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

As McCall passed the card over he gripped her hand to shake it.

“Until next time, Detective.”

Detectives Tony Marinelli and
Joshua Tooms sat at their desks waiting for the footage that the Traffic Department was sending over.

Tooms shuffled through the files on the three escapees, hoping something might strike him as unusual, while Tony was going through the prison phone records to see if any of them had made any unusual calls in the twenty-four hours prior to their escape.

Joshua threw down the file and stretched. He could feel his muscles under his shirt begin to stiffen from all the inactivity and stress from the lack of information in the files.

“These guys who escaped have nothing to do with what happened,” Tony said in exasperation. “They have no life, no family who wants to know them, no friends. All of them had already served at least twelve years so why break out now? Especially when they were coming up before the parole board. Fine, I could understand it happening on the way back if they’d gotten bad news, but on the way there? Nah, man that makes no sense.” Tony tossed his file down and spun round in his chair to face his partner.

“I hate to admit it but you may have a point,” Tooms agreed. “These guys phoned no one... ever. So if they did bust out who would they see? And who would help them? They didn’t know anyone.” Tooms picked up his coffee cup and mumbled to himself when he saw that it was empty.

“You want a coffee? I need a coffee.” Tony picked up his own cup and stood up.

“We both could use a break.” Tooms nodded, but he knew that’s not what his partner meant.

“Any luck on finding the guard who locked them down?” Tooms asked Tony as they entered the recreation room.

“Not yet. Apparently he got a call from out of town. His mom had been taken into hospital so he had to take off for a couple of days.”

Tooms shot him a look. “Well that was convenient, don’t you think?”

Tony smiled, confirming that he had had the same thought. “Yeah well, I left a message with the Boston Hospital. They will get back to me as soon as they can.” Tony filled up both their cups and placed the half-full jug back into the machine.

“I just don’t get any of this, it’s all too easy,” Tooms continued. “The bus driver who takes a different route, a postal truck with no driver but the tail gate is down, and now a guard whose mother just happened to have an accident the day all this was taking place. Something doesn’t add up.”

The two detectives sipped their drinks, their minds adrift in thought.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Almost dropping their coffees in fright, Tony and Tooms looked over at the open door to see that Agent Lloyd was entering the room. She was wearing a tight black skirt and had a white blouse under her black blazer.

“Agent Lloyd, what are you doing back here?” Tooms asked. “We thought you had to go back to your comfortable office.” Tooms made his snide remark as he saw Tony head over to the machine and pour her a coffee.

“Well, I didn’t want to miss anything, plus your coffee is better,” she joked, as she took the cup from Tony.

“Did we hear back from CSU yet reference the crash?” Agent Lloyd asked.

Tooms could tell she was making small talk, for he knew that if the FBI wanted, they could tell the ME’s office to let them know first, but she was keeping a distance from the enquiry. For some reason the Feds were not taking charge.

“No, not yet, they are backlogged at the minute, plus these murders have suddenly taken priority,” Tony explained, making his way back to his seat. “We have photos out to the media with the escapees’ faces, so we are hoping someone will spot them.”

Lloyd nodded as she took the information in. “Any ideas who may have helped them?” she asked. “Family? Friends?”

Tooms shook his head. “We checked their personal records, their visit logs, even the phone records. They had no contact with anyone for years. It makes no sense.”

Lloyd thought for a moment as she drank the coffee. “Perhaps it was an inside job? Could he have paid someone on the inside to arrange it?”

Tony shrugged. “It’s possible that the guard who normally locks them down before every trip had to go out of town quickly.”

The detectives saw a glimmer in her eye which could only mean they had struck gold.

“Track him down and bring him in,” she said. “He might be the key to all of this.”

The three of them headed for the door. Agent Lloyd gazed over and saw McCall’s murder board, the photographs and time lines making a perfect collage.

“Whose desk is that?” she asked, looking over to the pristine desk.

“That’s Detective Sam McCall’s desk. Why?” Tony asked.

Lloyd shook her head, paying even more attention to the board. “No reason. So what’s this detective, Sam McCall, like?” Her tone had changed, it was almost playful.

“What... Uhm, Sam is, well not your type really,” Tooms said, as Lloyd turned round to face him, with a confused look on her face, just as the elevator doors slid open.

“Oh just in time,” Tony told her. “Agent Lloyd, this is detective Sam McCall and—”

Tony and Tooms jumped out of the way as Lloyd’s cup slipped from her fingers. She was frozen in the doorway of the refreshment room and had a look of utter shock on her face.

“Oh my God! It’s you!” she said. “B-but you’re supposed to be dead!”

The Medical Examiner, Dr
Tina Franks, had sent Andy Carlson’s and Edward Gibbs’s blood work to the lab for analysis and his personal effects to CSU in case they could get anything off them before they got catalogued. It had been a long day and it was only twelve o’clock. She had just finished sewing Edward Gibbs’s chest back together before she headed off for lunch.

Music from the stereo in her office played some merry tunes that she danced along to as she stitched the pieces of grey flesh together. Tina had found nothing unusual about him, just a healthy guy who had died from being made to eat a magazine.

Tina finished off the stitch and patted him on the head before covering him up.

“Okay, you’re all done.” She stopped suddenly as she felt and heard her stomach growl disapprovingly, as if it knew what time it was.

Quickly, she tore off the surgical gloves and tossed them into the waste bin next to the office door and began to get ready for lunch. Tina turned at the sound of the double doors being opened in a hurry. One of the orderlies stood for a moment, looking around the room for her.

“Yes, what’s up?” Tina yelled, making the young man look round in her direction. He was holding a blue file and had a harried expression.

“The results are back from your first victim,” he told her.

Tina put on her jacket and moved over to him hurriedly, taking the file and looking through the results. “Is this correct?”

The man nodded nervously. “I ran it three times, it was the same for the second vic as well.”

Tina looked up at the orderly and smiled. “Thanks, Toby, go and get yourself some lunch—you must be starved.”

He nodded and made for the door before she changed her mind. She went to examine the file more carefully when her cell’s ring tone sounded in her pocket: it was a message from her lunch date, explaining that something had come up. She just closed down the cell and put it back in her pocket. In a way she was happy he had cancelled their date. This find had made her rethink everything about the murders.

Tina took out her cell phone and sent a text to McCall with the simple message of,
Get your ass back over here.

*

DC was a night club owner and a bit of a gangster. Since his older brother had gone and left him he had to fend for himself and he had done okay.

He walked down the busy streets like it was any other day—he was a man without a care. He was a tall black guy with four-hundred-dollar sneakers to go with the rest of his overpriced get-up.

DC wore his baseball cap with the peak tilted to one side and a pair of pilot shades to hide his eyes from the masses.

He walked with a strut and with purpose, but without any haste in his stride. His club wasn’t far away from his loft apartment, so a car was unnecessary, plus he just liked to get out and put on his show.

The sun beat down but whatever heat it gave off was soon cooled by the westerly breeze, so he paid it no mind.

DC saw his nightclub from across the street and smiled at its large display screen on the outside that would show the goings on to the public so as to entice them in. The screen was around eight feet by seven feet with a protective glass barrier in front of it, just in case someone got angry.