Killer Ambition

28

“Nice catch, Counselor,” Herrera said as he bagged the phone.

He insisted on re-covering every inch of ground from that spot, and it took us another hour to reach the end of the path, which did turn out to be the roadway. Feeling wrung out and filthy, I walked to the shadiest area I could find and sat down on a rock. Seconds later, Bailey joined me.

“How much you wanna bet that cell phone’s Hayley’s?” I said.

“No bet. It is, I agree. I just hope Dorian will finish with it fast.”

“All she can really do is check for prints and swab for DNA, which’ll probably be a bust. The thing’s been out here a couple of days now. I just wonder if it’ll still work.” I scanned the road and the pullout in front of us. “Think there’s any point in trying to get tire marks out here?”

Bailey looked at the area where we’d emerged from the brush. “After that biblical rain, I can’t see how anything would be left. But I’ll ask Dorian.”

We drank our water and waited as the rest of the crew headed for their cars, then Bailey asked Dorian about the tire tracks.

“Already took photos with a zoom lens. But I’m not hopeful.”

I started to ask her when she’d be done with the cell phone, then clamped my mouth shut.

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.” Dorian turned and headed for her pickup.

“See you later.”

Dorian said over her shoulder, “Not if I see you first.”

I pulled on my backpack and turned to Bailey. “I hope our ‘connection’ doesn’t make you feel left out,” I joked.

As we were about to get into Bailey’s car, Dorian called out to us from her truck. “You can have that cell phone the day after tomorrow.”

When we reached Mulholland Highway, my phone played the default tune, “FM” by Steely Dan. I looked at the screen but didn’t recognize the number. A reporter? Unlikely. Sandi, the DA’s media relations chief, had been doing her job well and had managed to keep me out of the fray. A job that was made significantly easier by the fact that Vanderhorn had such big love for the fray. And so far there’d been no leaks of any real information. The press, and especially the tabloids, were trying to keep the story going by digging up background “color” about Hayley’s life, but surprisingly, they’d been kind. I had the feeling that might be due to the fact that the biggest of them, the National Inquisitor, had set the tone by printing sympathetic vignettes supposedly garnered from her “closest buds.” And since those stories were selling, the rest of the papers had fallen into step.

I decided if this was a reporter, I’d just hang up. It was my go-to strategy with the press, which explained my wild popularity. I answered warily, without giving my name. “Hello?”

A man cleared his throat, then spoke in a deep, rolling baritone. “Am I speaking to Rachel Knight? This is Sterling Numan. Dorian asked me to take a look at your soil and plant samples. Sorry to disrupt your weekend-”

“No problem.” It was already fully disrupted.

“-but I thought you’d want to hear from me as soon as I had something to tell you.”

It took me a moment to shift from surly to grateful. “Mr. Numan, thank you for calling.”

“Dr. Numan, and you’re entirely welcome. I’ll be preparing a formal report, of course, but I’ve made some notes and I have some preliminary findings that might be of help to you. Ordinarily I wouldn’t relay my preliminary findings. I prefer to wait until I’ve completed the analysis, but Dorian told me this is a matter of some urgency.” He cleared his throat again.

“Yes, that’s correct. Thank you for making an exception, Dr. Numan.”

“I only ask that you bear in mind that when I complete my analysis, I may alter my conclusions-”

“I understand.”

Numan cleared his throat again. “The plant debris and soil composition found on the vehicle associated with Hayley Antonovich’s body-”

“The Toyota, correct?” I was careful not to say it was Brian’s car on a cell phone.

“Correct. The levels of sand, silt, and clay revealed particulates most commonly found in the northwestern portion of the Santa Monica Mountain Range-”

“As in Boney Mountain?” Where Brian’s body had been found, and where I’d just been.

“Yes. Trails on Boney Mountain such as the Mishe Mokwa, for example.”

“Did you also examine soil samples taken from Fryman Canyon?” Fryman Canyon, where Russell had left the ransom money, was forty to fifty miles away, depending on what route you took. I needed to know whether the soil in Fryman Canyon was different from that on Boney Mountain.

“I did. And to answer the question I believe you intend to ask, no, the particulates I identified on the Toyota could not have come from Fryman Canyon.”

“And what about the soil and plant debris on Hayley’s body?”

“The same. The likely source was Boney Mountain.”

“How much could your findings change when you complete your examination?”

“Well…” He gave a formal chuckle, heh-heh-heh. “One never knows what one may find, but I wouldn’t expect my final conclusion to be radically different.”

I thanked Numan and ended the call.

“So the soil on the Toyota and on Hayley’s body comes back to Boney Mountain?” Bailey asked.

“Yep. And he excluded Fryman Canyon as a possible source.”

“Which means Brian and Hayley must’ve driven up here.”

“The question is, why?” I asked. “If the ransom drop was in Fryman Canyon, what were they doing forty miles away on Boney Mountain?”

Bailey frowned and shook her head. We rode back downtown in silence.

“I feel like I spent the night in a ditch.”

“I could use a shower myself,” Bailey said. “It’s almost six o’clock. I can justify knocking off for the day. How about you?”

“I don’t have any better ideas.”

We got to my room and headed for the showers. I changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a lightweight blue jersey tank top. We met in the living room and flopped on the couch.

“I’m wiped,” Bailey said. She’d changed into cutoffs and a T-shirt.

“Yeah. I guess it’s the heat.” And the constant gallop we’d been doing since we caught the case. This was the first time we’d knocked off before nightfall that I could remember.

“Room service?”

Bailey’s favorite thing. I’d just picked up the phone to place our orders when Bailey’s cell phone rang.

“Keller.”

I gave our orders to room service while Bailey took her call. Seconds later, she put down her phone.

“We got a ping from Hayley’s iPad,” she said.

Another effort to mislead us into thinking Brian was still alive? It’s what we’d been hoping for.

“An e-mail?”

“No. Just the signal that the iPad had been activated.”

“Where?”

“New York,” Bailey said. “NYPD’s running it down.”

I would’ve loved to fly out there and chase down the asshole myself, but it would waste hours in flight time, and we couldn’t afford an extra minute. We’d gotten lucky with that signal from Hayley’s iPad. Now we just had to hope we’d gotten that signal soon enough.