Into the Dark

59

Los Angeles, California

Julie gathered her documents and her bag.

As she prepared to leave for Claire’s house, she hesitated before shutting off her computer. She sat back down and searched online news sites for updates on Amber’s case.

She was still missing and police hadn’t found her husband.

Damn, what’s happening with that task force investigation?

Julie picked up her office phone and called her friend in the D.A.’s office. After three rings the line was answered.

“Bartley Green.”

“Bart, it’s Julie, I need a minute.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Friend to friend, what’re you hearing on the Dark Wind Killer?”

“Well…” Green exhaled. “They still haven’t found Amber, but-” he dropped his voice “-this will be made public soon. The LAPD in Rampart grabbed the husband, took him to Alhambra where the task force questioned him.”

“Good.”

“Not good. They’ve ruled him out.”

“They don’t have him for the five unsolveds and his wife?”

“Nope, they’ve got no hard evidence. He’s not the guy, which means the killer is still out there.”

Julie considered the situation.

“Are they looking at anyone else specifically?”

“If they are, we’re not hearing anything. We know they’re chasing a number of tips.”

She shot an uneasy glance at her pages of new information she had on Robert Bowen, a.k.a. Leon Richard Elliott. Her mind was racing. She was angry at him. She’d never really liked him. And she was angry at herself for not watching out for Claire when she’d first met Mr. Community Hero.

Am I wrong for thinking what I’m thinking?

Before Julie knew it, she’d wedged her phone between her shoulder and ear and started typing on her keyboard.

“You’ve got friends on that task force, right?” she asked.

“A couple.”

“And you protect your sources, a lawyer-client privilege thing, right?”

“What are you getting at, Julie?”

Her conscience cautioned her about ethics, about revealing confidential information relating to a client’s case, unless it concerned a crime or public safety.

This damn well does, she told herself.

“I’m going to send you some information right now, several attachments. It’s on its way to you. It all deals with some questionable history of the husband of Amber Pratt’s psychologist.”

“Are you suggesting they take a look at him? On what basis?”

“You’ll know when you see the material. This is likely nothing. It’ll likely dead-end. Still, under the circumstances, I think you should pass it to the task force and let them assess it quietly. That’s all I’m suggesting, Bart.”

“All right.”

“And remember you didn’t get it from me. I trust you on this.”

“You know I’m bound, Julie.”

“Okay, gotta go.”

Once again, she got ready to depart. After sending the information to her friend in the D.A.’s office, Julie held off sending it to Claire. She thought it best to first talk to her face-to-face about Robert. She picked up her cell phone and texted Claire, hoping she would keep responding.

Is Robert with you now?

No, we’ll be able to talk. What did you find out?

I’ll show you some documents when I get there.

OK.

Any word on Amber?

Nothing. I’m going out of my mind.

Be there soon.

After sending the text Julie bit her bottom lip; she considered her gun locked in the office safe.

Should she take it?

No, she thought, she was visiting Claire at home to talk and convince her to stay with her for a couple of nights. In gathering her things and hurrying to the elevator, Julie was stung by second thoughts over what she’d done, and what she may have set in motion.

As Julie’s elevator descended, Leonard Fitzhugh, the guard at the main concourse security desk, set his comic aside and unwrapped his Tex-Mex submarine sandwich. He’d been looking forward to this moment for the past few hours, since he’d picked up his dinner on his way to his late shift.

As Fitzhugh lined it up for that first joyous bite, there was a flash on the console bank of twenty-four security camera monitors. Three cameras for Level Four in the underground parking garage went out.

They were showing a static snowstorm.

“Crap,” Fitzhugh whispered.

He set his sandwich down, flipped through the laminated binder for a number and then called the dispatcher for the surveillance company that maintained the cameras. This was the fourth time this year they’d had a problem. He wrote up the issue in his log. It would be about an hour before a tech showed up.

Fitzhugh returned to more important matters, opening a bag of potato chips and soda, before picking up that glorious sandwich.

He’d eat first, then go down to Level Four and take a look.

Julie’s elevator went directly to the underground garage.

As she walked to her car, which was parked on Level Four among the sprinkling of vehicles that remained at the far end of the lot, she continued grappling with the action she’d taken.

Given the situation, she hadn’t overcompensated by alerting the task force. She doubted much would come of that, but she needed to help Claire get some distance from Robert, Leon, whoever the hell he was.

On top of all else that was happening, this was going to crush Claire. She’d need some time and space to think and Julie would be there for her.

Her steps echoed as she neared her car, parked near a column and whitewashed wall under a fluorescent light. She reached into her bag for her remote key lock. It beeped twice when she unlocked her doors. Reaching for the door handle, she gave the area a quick scan.

As she opened her door Julie caught her breath.

The security camera on the pillar above her car had been smashed from its mounting and was dangling by its wires. A sudden rush of movement caused her to turn at the moment she felt metal prongs pressed into the flesh of her neck. Her body was paralyzed with a million-volt jolt of tingling burning electricity and she dropped.

Just like the cows at the slaughterhouse.