Killer Ambition

22

I’d set the alarm early enough to have breakfast and read the paper, but I accidentally hit the snooze button twice. The next time my eyes opened, it was seven thirty. I jerked myself out of bed and ran to the shower, hitting the TV remote on my way so I could check the morning news. I needed to find out whether word of Brian’s death had leaked. I cranked up the volume and scrubbed up quickly, listening as I braced for disaster. The hot water felt good on my shoulders and I’d just begun to relax when a familiar voice made me spin around and push open the shower door. I leaned out just in time to see Vanderhorn’s face behind a microphone. I grabbed a towel and ran over to the television.

Preening in the limelight, as usual, he affected his “I perform a somber duty” face. “We are continuing to develop leads and are working closely with officers who, I assure you, are going around the clock-”

A reporter interrupted him with a shouted question asking for new information. I held my breath. Vanderputz shouldn’t know about Brian, but…

“Ah…”

I could see he was aching to say something that’d get him more airtime. I squeezed the towel between my hands, wishing it was his neck. He continued.

“There is nothing more I can tell you at this time. But I believe in the public’s right to know, and the moment we have any new development…”

They let him finish the sentence, barely, before cutting away to tease sports and weather. I hurried back to the shower, light-headed with relief. Crisis averted. This one, anyway. I still needed to check the Internet.

I dressed and did my hair and makeup in record time, but just as I opened my laptop, Bailey called to say she was downstairs. Damn. I grabbed a cold bottle of water, wrapped half of my toasted bagel in a napkin, and sprinted for the elevator.

“You checked the Web for leaks?” I asked as I got into the car.

Bailey nodded. “So far, so good.”

We went back to Brian’s past jobs and asked more questions. All of his bosses and co-workers said the same thing: he was a good worker, a nice guy, but he didn’t hang out with anyone on a social basis and they didn’t know of any friends. The only person he’d ever mentioned was his aunt, Janice.

As we walked back to the car after the last stop, we passed an outdoor newsstand set under an awning against the wall of a building. I glanced at the newspapers displayed on the middle shelf. Every single paper had some mention of Hayley’s murder on the front page. Most featured a color reproduction of a particularly winsome pose above the fold. Not just one but three different tabloids carried a full story. Though I shuddered to think what was in those stories, I bought them all. I had to know what kind of misinformation was already being spread. We’d asked our respective offices to keep a tight lid on the details of how and where Hayley’d been found, but we knew that wouldn’t stop the lower-echelon workers at either the police station or the DA’s office from leaking stories-true or false-to reporters for fun, attention, and profit. I didn’t know whether we’d ever have a suspect to take to trial, but if we did, I would need a jury that hadn’t been tainted with lies and spin.

We got into the car and Bailey pulled out. I opened one of the papers to start reading, then realized it’d probably make me nauseated-and I don’t just mean from motion sickness. I folded it back up. It could wait till I got back to my office or the station.

“You have the guts to go hit SID and see if Dorian has anything?” I asked.

“Sure, I’m in the mood for a good ass-kicking.”

“Maybe if we bring her some lunch…”

“Dorian doesn’t eat,” Bailey said.

But I did, and I was hungry. Two tacos and a quesadilla later, we were rolling into the parking lot of SID. We found Dorian staring into a microscope at her bench. When we got within ten feet, she looked up and grimaced.

“What?” she said.

Ordinarily, I’d start with a “Hey, how ya doin’?” but not with Dorian. I’d bet Dorian’s mother doesn’t do that with Dorian.

“Anything on anything?” I asked.

She jerked her head in the direction of her office and started walking. We followed. Her small, spartan office was decorated in early modern anal-retentive. Her desk was spotless, the in-box placed at precisely one inch from the edge on both sides, and of course empty. Dorian unlocked her computer and tapped a few keys. “Brian’s apartment: no evidence of struggle, hair consistent with Hayley’s was found in the bathroom and the bedroom, and prints that matched his and Hayley’s were found in all rooms. Couple of toothbrushes found in the bathroom. Preliminary tests indicate they were used by Brian and Hayley. I’ll have a final answer when we get back DNA. No clothing in the closets, and other than a used tube of toothpaste-which I haven’t printed yet-there were no other items in the bathroom or the medicine cabinet-”

“So Hayley stayed there with Brian.”

Dorian ignored me, tapped more keys, and squinted at the screen. “Next, Brian’s car. This is just the first look, so we’ll have more when I get time to finish. I found Brian’s hair and prints in the car, of course. Hayley’s hair and prints too. Possibly some fibers from the blouse she was found in as well. It was a lightweight knit that shed a fair amount, which is helpful. Now here’s the part I know you’re waiting for: I found a small smear of blood on the outside of the trunk. Seems to be a mix of Hayley’s and someone else’s.”

“Not Brian?” I asked.

“Not based on the profile I’ve got so far. When I get back the DNA, I’ll be able to tell you for sure, but at this moment, it looks like a third party’s blood.”

Bailey and I exchanged a long glance.

“Do you have a plan for the soil samples?” Bailey asked.

“I don’t ‘plan.’ I already sent ’em out to a guy who’s the guru on particulates.” Dorian looked up from her computer. “And I can tell you, he isn’t as accommodating as I am about your ‘need it now’ jazz.”

Less “accommodating” than Dorian? I couldn’t begin to guess what that might mean.

“Given your findings on the car trunk, do you think we should go back out to the mountain?” I asked.

“I would. It’s dry now, and I’d like to take another look, in the light.” She turned to Bailey. “You putting in the request?”

“As of now.”

I was buoyed by the possibility that we might have the DNA of the killer. Then I considered who our killer might be from a logical standpoint. I didn’t like where my train of thought was taking me, but maybe Bailey would find a way to knock it down.

“We’re pretty sure at this point that Brian and Hayley engineered this kidnapping scheme,” I said. “But obviously someone else got into the mix. Brian didn’t have any friends, so if someone was in on it from the start, that person didn’t come from his end-”

“And we know it couldn’t be anyone in Hayley’s circle.”

“But here’s the question: Why would Brian and Hayley have even wanted to bring in a third party?”

“No reason I can see,” Bailey said. “She knew how to reach her dad, how much money he had, all the important stuff. It didn’t take much to set up the drop in Fryman Canyon-”

“They didn’t need any help. So I’m betting our killer was an uninvited guest at their party. That means he had to have found out about the kidnapping while it was in progress.”

“You two want to blab, take it outside,” Dorian said. “Some of us work for a living.”

We started to apologize, but Dorian had already turned back to her computer. When we got to the elevator, Bailey started to speak but stopped when some others joined us. After we got out of the building, she said, “What about Legs? He ‘sniffed’ the ransom note before it was sent.”

“True. But I have a hard time believing that the guy who called us with the tip-”

“Yeah. Hard to believe, but you never know.” Bailey shrugged.

“He just doesn’t fit the bill.” The skinny, pierced, and tatted soon-to-be doctor of neuroscience was a tough sell as a killer. “But you’re right. I guess we should at least check his alibi.”

“I’ll put Harrellson on it,” Bailey said. “Assuming it doesn’t turn out to be Legs, who else could’ve found out about the plan in time to jump in?”

“Other ‘cyber-sniffers,’ I guess-”

“Jeez, I don’t know. Legs Roscoe was enough of a coincidence. How many others could have jumped in at just the right time?”

“But it wouldn’t hurt to try and run down everyone who was in that cybercafé,” I said.

“I’ll add it to the list.”

I moved on to consider other possibilities. Only one came to mind. “Assuming it wasn’t some random person at the café, all we’re left with is someone who was close enough to Russell to find out on his end…like someone who was in the house when the kidnapping message came in.”

Bailey pulled out of the parking lot and didn’t answer for a few moments. “That fits. And God knows Russell’s place always seems to have a boatload of people running around in it.”

“Good thing we decided to keep Brian’s death under wraps.”

But life is all about balance, as Toni’s boyfriend, Judge J. D. Morgan, always says. That good thing was balanced by a nasty bad thing: since no one knew about Brian, I’d have to get Vanderhorn’s permission to interrogate Mr. Moviemaker’s inner circle. It’d be like slamming my hand in the door, only not as much fun. Then it occurred to me that there was a better option-at least for me. My boss, Eric.