Murder 42 - A Thriller (Sarah King Mysteries Book 2) (13 page)

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 the 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.

“I just need a minute alone in the house.”

He shrugged. “Sure. The techs should be out in a few minutes. Bill’s at the local police precinct so you can have until they get him back here.”

Sarah sat on the hood of the car as Gio finished up inside. He came back out with the three forensic techs and nodded to her as he touched base with another federal agent there. Sarah hopped off the hood and quietly entered the home. She shut the door behind her. Every house had its own sounds, its own groans and scrapes that people would hear when they were alone. She heard them now. The floor upstairs creaked, the refrigerator fan turned on and off, and a soft electric hum emanated through the house.

Sarah sat in the living room, the same spot Heather had sat in. Over years, Sarah had learned to close her mind off to the impressions that were always fighting to make their way in. But sometimes, she could open up the gates. Sometimes, she could let everything in. The process was painful, and even dangerous, but she could do it if she had to.

She closed her eyes and relaxed her body. Focusing on her feet, she flexed and relaxed each muscle going up her legs and stomach, her arms, shoulders and neck. By the time she reached her head, she felt loose and at ease.

The first image came like a stab wound to her brain.

It pushed pain down into the rest of her body, as if she’d swallowed fire. Her throat hurt, then her chest, then her stomach. She crumpled over, bending at the waist. She would’ve hit the floor if she hadn’t caught herself. Forcing herself up, she leaned back.

The first image was of several people in the living room. By the way they were dressed, she knew it was a long time ago. Decades. The people moved, mingled, ate, and drank. She could hear some of them, voices as soft as whispers. Others she couldn’t hear at all. They were silent as a crypt.

“Hello?” Sarah said.

No one responded. Every instinct told her to close her mind like a steel trap, to force every thought away, that this was harmful. But she thought of the child on that video, and of Heather, lost in a world she couldn’t possibly understand, and she kept her mind open.

The decades flew by right in front of her. This house was bought by people who cared what other people thought, the kind who threw parties not to give their guests a good time but to attempt to impress them with their wealth. Sarah saw people fighting, children growing up and leaving… entire lifetimes that flew by in a matter of seconds.

The pain was excruciating. Her nose bled from both nostrils, and the throbbing in her head grew so intense she thought she might faint.

As time sped by, she watched for Heather. For the soft doe eyes that took everything in and seemed to hold an optimism that hadn’t been corrupted yet. And she saw her.

Heather flirting with Bill. Bill had his hand on her butt and was squeezing it, talking in her ear. She seemed uncomfortable but allowed him to continue. Then they walked into a different room.

Sarah rose from the couch and nearly fell over from the pain. She braced herself, held herself upright as much as she could, and then followed them into the other room.

Heather lay on a bed, and Bill was doing something on a dresser. Sarah hobbled over and saw he was preparing a spoonful of a urine-colored substance that turned brown when he heated it with a lighter. Then he came over to the bed, tied a thin plastic tube around Heather’s right arm, and slapped the flesh. When he saw what he was looking for, he sucked up the brown fluid into a hypodermic needle, and injected it inside her.

Heather seemed to melt away. A smile came over her face, and her legs moved seductively across the sheets as though she were in the throes of passion. Bill began to undress. When he was nude, he stripped off her panties and mounted her. Sarah turned away. She couldn’t watch this. With one hand on the wall to hold herself up, she staggered back out to the front room and saw Heather again. This time she was wearing a dress and looked older, more worn out. More like what Sarah had seen of her for the first time. But that hint of optimism was still in her eyes.

The party featured mounds of cocaine. Heather did several lines and washed it down with wine and Bill, his brother Justin, and several other men groped her. After a long time, Sarah saw Bill slip something into Heather’s wine when her attention was on another man. Then Heather drank the wine. Within minutes, she appeared loopy and couldn’t hold a conversation. Bill picked her up and led her to the kitchen table where he laid her down and then pulled up her dress. All the men, at least half a dozen, began taking off their pants.

Sarah closed her eyes. The agony was making her vision swirl. She felt as if she’d been struck by a car and gotten up from the road by instinct and was stumbling around, trying to hold onto something.

Another image. Of Bill and Justin alone in the house, talking. Water dripped down from the ceiling, and both men looked up. They took the stairs to the second floor. Moments later, they came down with the rug Heather had been rolled in. They took her outside, and Sarah followed. She went to Bill’s car and watched him. They stuffed the young woman into the trunk, and Bill drove off.

Sarah watched the car. She could see it on the interstate, see it driving past canyons and rolling hills. The ocean far off in the distance.

Bill’s car stopped in the middle of a canyon next to a stream. Up on the hill away from the stream was a radio tower. Across the front of it, written in black lettering, was “T-467.” He took the rug out and dumped it into the stream. The water, perhaps only a few feet deep, washed the rug downstream. The rug got caught on a branch and unfurled, the body rolling out and continuing down with the current.

Sarah wanted to follow the body, to see where it would end up. But she didn’t have it in her. The throbbing felt like getting hit in the head with a rock, small bursts of white taking up her vision every couple of seconds. Soon, her knees gave up and she fell backward, staring at the sky. She felt hands on her and tried to fight them off, but they calmly held her down. And then the world went black, and she was gone.