The Watched (CSI Reilly Steel #4) (18 page)

‘So you and Mr
Sheldon got along well?’ Daniel asked.

Jason shook his head. ‘That’s what’s odd. The last time
Sheldon and I worked together, he was furious about the actress I cast as the heroine in
Chase the Wind
. Said I should’ve refused Carpenter’s request for a recast. He told me that, if he had his way, I’d never work on another of his films. Then, this week, he was acting like it had never happened. I just went with it. In this business, you learn not to argue when things are going well.’

‘Mr
Stuart,’ Reilly said, ‘is there a specific reason you sought us out? Most people haven’t exactly been eager to talk to us.’

‘
Well, like I told the detectives, I think I was one of the last people to see Drew before he vanished,’ Jason said. ‘We were having a smoke in the alley, talking about this new project he wanted me to work on. I finished my cigarette and headed back inside to meet up with a . . . friend. Drew stayed out for another.’

Based on his hesitation, Daniel seemed to deduce exactly why he was so eager to go back inside.
‘And your friend can confirm that you were with her for the rest of the night?’

Jason nodded. ‘She can. When I left Drew, there were only a couple of other people in the alley with him.’

‘Who else?’

‘Wesley Fisher and
Paul Lennox, his co-producer, as far as I can remember. And a couple of other guys that I faintly recognized but don’t know. There are so many hangers-on in this business that faces tend to blend into each other.’

A buzz cut into the conversation. Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled
out his phone. ‘Forrest. Hold on a minute.’ Holding the phone at his side, he spoke again to the casting director. ‘Thanks for your help, we appreciate it.’

Reilly followed Daniel through a set of dou
ble doors and out into the late afternoon heat. She took a deep breath of the heavy, muggy air as Daniel spoke to whoever was on the phone. In a way, she guessed Daniel was right. The whole Hollywood scene was definitely something she didn’t understand.

‘
It’s Todd. Their computer expert just tracked down one of the people who posted an admiring comment beneath the YouTube video of Holly’s murder.’ Daniel’s prior good humor had vanished. ‘Seems like our killer has been splicing films for a while. Old bar brawls and fight scenes. They’ve been popping up online for a couple of months and he’s got a nice little following. So irrespective of whether this guy is already involved in the movie business, he’s certainly on his way to going mainstream.’

Reilly cursed. If they didn’t catch up with this guy
soon, they could have a string of copycats looking for their fifteen minutes.

Daniel seemed to be thinking the very same thing, and t
he expression in his eyes suddenly made him seem far older than he was. ‘We need to find this guy, Reilly, and fast.’

CHAPTER 19

The following morning Bradley dropped a newspaper onto Todd’s desk. ‘Take a look at this.’

‘What?’
Todd looked up from his workstation. He’d been working on getting a trace from the rock at the beach used to kill the movie-maker’s first male victim. So far, the only things he’d found were pieces of the same orange cotton fibers that had been in the victims’ mouths. The killer had kept the towel wrapped around his hand when he’d picked up the rock. Impulsive but smart.

‘He wrote to t
he
Tampa Bay Times
.’

Todd picked up the newspaper and the
words leaped out at him in stark black and white. He found himself reading out loud, as if the verbalization would create some semblance of sanity to the moment.

I am writing to tell the city of Tampa not to fear. I am not looking to create a state of panic. While there has been unfortunate collateral damage, I am not killing indiscriminately.

Those who appreciate the true art of film making will come to respect the nature of my work
, and the statement that I am trying to make.

As I continue to work on my project
, I will send periodic updates so that the less evolved audience can understand what I am trying to accomplish.

‘Narcissistic son of a bitch . . .’ Todd shook his head. He looked up at Bradley. ‘When do we get the letter for analysis?’

‘It was an email
, apparently.’ He leaned back against the counter. ‘Detectives already have the IT department tracing it. And another thing,’ he added tiredly, ‘it’s not Drew Sheldon’s or the kidnapper’s blood from yesterday.’

‘
How do you know for sure?’ Todd asked, interested despite himself. Even though it wasn’t the crime scene he was focused on, the Sheldon one had been his. ‘The blood type in the alley was the same as on the medical records, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes. But it didn’t matter according to the tox screen, b
ecause whoever this blood is from had so much amobarbital and alcohol in their system that they would’ve been comatose, if not dead.’

‘
Couldn’t the kidnapper have drugged Sheldon, though? And maybe he already had alcohol in his system?’ Todd suggested.

‘
Not this much,’ Bradley said. He turned toward Todd. ‘Stand up.’

He did as asked, a puzzled expression on his face.

‘You be Sheldon.’ Bradley picked up a pen from the table. ‘If I’m the kidnapper, I’d have to have a syringe with a highly concentrated dose to even get close to what I’m seeing here. Now, to cause the blood we saw in the alley, I’d have to create a wound bigger than one I could make with a needle, so I’d need a knife too.’ He picked up a ruler.

‘
So you have a knife in one hand and the syringe in the other.’ Todd’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’d need to put the knife in your dominant hand, which would leave the syringe in your weaker one.’

‘
But for the drugs to be in your system, I’d have to inject you first, wait a few seconds to a couple of minutes, depending on the injection site, and then cut you.’

‘
If I’m Sheldon . . .’ Todd saw the problem as Bradley swung down with his left hand. He reached up and grabbed his wrist. ‘I’ve just walked out to talk to you for some reason, so I’m facing you when you try to inject me. I grab your wrist. It’s not your dominant hand, so I can stop you.’

‘
And if I try to use the knife with my free hand . . .’ Bradley brought his other arm forward. ‘Even if I could manage to only nick you while struggling with my other hand, there’s no way for you to already have the drugs in your system.’

‘
And if your initial attack resulted in you successfully injecting me,’ Todd said, ‘I’d automatically grab for the syringe and yank it out.’

‘
Unless I knock you out, there’s no way for me to pick up the syringe and still keep you under control.’

‘But
if you’d knocked me out, there’d be drag marks at the scene leading to your car. Which there weren’t.’ He was thoughtful. ‘But that would be the only way to be able to come back for the syringe. If I’m not unconscious, keeping me locked in the car while you went back to get the syringe wouldn’t be very smart.’

‘
Especially since the department had doubled police patrols for that area,’ Bradley stated. ‘Would it be worth it to go back for the syringe if there was a chance of being caught?’

‘
There’s no scenario that allows for either Sheldon or the kidnapper to be both drunk and drugged without leaving behind a method of drug delivery, or someone being unconscious,’ Todd mused. ‘And since there’s no evidence of someone falling or being dragged, it’s safe to assume that they both walked to the vehicle under their own power.’

Bradley nodded
. ‘Which can only mean that the blood belongs to someone else.’

Detective
Julie Sampson motioned to the suspect on the other side of the glass, currently being held by the Tampa PD in connection with the ‘movie-maker killings’ as they were now being called.

‘Meet Brett Kubiak,’ the female detective said to Daniel and Reilly. ‘Twenty-year-old film student at NYU, home in Florida for a study break.’

The detectives had
picked him up via a comment beneath the online clip of Holly’s murder. ‘The kid the cyber-crime geeks found yesterday gave us Kubiak’s real name, said they’d been communicating online for a couple of months.’

Reilly studied the dark-haired young man in the interrogation room. He was decidedly unkempt and almost too thin, the bones of his wrists visible under his pale skin. He didn’t look especially dangerous, but she knew that looks could be deceiving.

How many times were serial killers described as quiet and charming when in reality they were making suits of human skin?

‘Kubiak’s screen name is The Acolyte,’ the detective said. ‘Our techs have been working on connecting him to other videos, and so far we’ve identified him as having commented on several of t
he spliced movies, always complimentary and encouraging.’

‘The Acolyte,’ Daniel murmured. ‘Interesting name choice.’

‘What do you mean?’ the detective asked, but before Daniel could answer, their attention was drawn to someone entering the interrogation room. The interview was about to begin.

A tall
detective with thinning black hair whom Reilly hadn’t seen before took a seat in front of Kubiak. The kid didn’t even look up.

‘So, Kubiak, you like horror movies?’ the
interrogator asked.

‘Sure.’ The kid kept his eyes on the table. ‘And long walks on the beach at sunset.’

‘Don’t be a smartass.’ The detective stood up, put his hands in his pockets and began to pace. ‘You’re in a lot of trouble.’

‘For what?’ Kubiak barely sounded interested, much less concerned.

‘Did you watch a film online that showed a girl getting ripped asunder and then comment that you were “looking forward to more”?’

‘It’s a movie,’ Kubiak said
, shrugging. ‘And last I checked, freedom of speech includes posting comments on public internet sites.’

The detective
stepped up right next to the suspect. ‘You know what I think?’

‘Very little, I would assume.’ Kubiak leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘But go ahead.’

‘Funny.’ The detective didn’t take the bait and Reilly wondered if he had always been that laid-back or if it was an acquired habit. He continued, ‘I think you set up and filmed that murder, then couldn’t help yourself and had to brag.’

Kubiak finally looked up, his expression carefully blank. ‘I’m flattered, but it wasn’t me. This guy has been working for months. Find the other videos and you’ll see I was nowhere near where they were filmed.’

Julie Sampson’s voice turned Reilly’s attention away from the interrogation. ‘What do you think, Dr Forrest?’ she asked. ‘Could he be our guy, or are we wasting our time?’

Daniel’s jaw was set and Reilly knew what he was going to say. ‘No
, I don’t think it’s him. He admires the person who did the work, that’s why he posts the comments. He wants the actual killer to see that he appreciates the “art” of what he’s trying to achieve. Kubiak may secretly want to emulate the murderer, but he hasn’t done anything other than watch.’

‘What makes you think he wants to emulate the killer?’ the detective asked.

‘The name he chose for himself,’ Daniel replied. ‘It means disciple or follower.’

CHAPTER
20

‘I’ve never seen anything like this.’ Assistant Medical Examiner Dr Matthew Perez’s skin had taken on a pale, waxy appearance.

Todd
couldn’t blame him. The violence of Holly’s and the other murders had been bad, but this was somehow different.

Maybe because of the damage to the face. There was something depersonalizing about seeing someone’s face like that, something that had once been
normal looking so completely non-human.

‘
Do you understand the sheer force it would take to do this to someone?’ The assistant medical examiner took a step back and gathered himself.

Given the severity of the violence, Todd
was mildly impressed with the young man’s quick recovery time. ‘Could it have been a kick in the back of the head?’

‘
A kick?’ The young man shook his head. ‘No, at least not in the traditional sense.’ Dr Perez pointed to the shattered remains of Anton Williams’s jaw. ‘The detectives said he was found face down on the sidewalk?’

Todd nodded. ‘
It looked like he’d put his mouth to the edge of the curb and . . .’ he swallowed hard, not wanting to finish the sentence.

He recognized the setup of this one too.
American History X
was a good, if disturbing, movie about a vengeance-seeking white supremacist. There was a particularly memorable (for all the wrong reasons) black-and-white scene in which Edward Norton’s skinhead character makes an attempted thief – a young African American man like their victim – pay by making him ‘bite the curb’, before stomping on the back of his head to break his neck and jaw.