Should Have Looked Away (6 page)

TEN

As Will sat
on the subway to work the next morning, he stared blankly out of the window. As the train paused at the five stops on his journey, some commuters on the platforms met his gaze, but he stared right past them, his eyes focussed on the far end of the station walls.

What the hell was going on, he asked himself. It had been years since he last had any contact with the police: seven or eight years back, he was approaching a pedestrian crossing on some back street. A woman started to cross, and rather than come to a complete stop, he slowed down to around 5mph for the last few yards before the crossing, to avoid the need to come to a complete stop. Once the woman had gotten to the other side, he picked up speed again. He had no sooner passed the crossing when he heard the
whoop
of a police siren, and a cop on a motorcycle flagged him down. The cop told him he should have come to a complete stop, and he was lucky he was being let off with a warning on this occasion.

And now, two days running, he could not have gotten more involved with them without being arrested himself. Being questioned, giving written statements, and now being the victim of a crime. His mother used to continually quote an adage which said that things come in threes: what could happen today?

He roused himself from his daydreaming as he reached 42
nd
Street. Walking the last three blocks, he tried to make sense of what had been going on. By the time he had arrived at the office, he had still not done so.

He was the first to arrive that morning, so let himself in, made himself a cup of coffee and went into his office. On his desk, May had left a note, giving details of a client who had called after he left yesterday. He glanced at what she had written, then dropped it back onto his desk. That could wait.

Will stood by the window, and looked down at the street below, full of traffic slowly heading for Tenth Avenue, and people, milling around like ants, rushing to and fro, trying to get to work, or home, or the shops. How could Sunday and Monday be connected, he thought. Sunday he was a witness, the attackers never saw him as he was hiding in the stall…

Or did they?

‘What am I going to do?’ he whispered to himself, rubbing a hand over his chin. They didn’t see him in the men’s room, but they could have been watching somewhere at the mall, seeing him go outside, see him call the police, see him talk to the police.

See him talk to Chrissy and Louise…

What if they saw them leave, and followed them?

But realistically, he told himself, how likely was that? He heard one of the attackers exhort the other to hurry; he knew that the mall was filled with CCTV cameras, so surely, they would not have loitered around, guaranteeing being picked up by a camera.

And in any case, how would they have known he was in the stall? They certainly didn’t check any of the doors.

But looking at a worse case scenario: if they had followed Chrissy and Louise, or even Will himself, all the way to the Village, why just ransack the house? Surely it would be Will himself they would be looking for, to silence him.

He swallowed, and finished his coffee. 

No, he decided, it must just be one terrible coincidence.

But if it was a random break-in, as the police seemed to believe, why not take more than they did? A few pieces of cheap jewellery, and some cash Chrissy had left out on a shelf. There was plenty of other stuff they could have taken: the amount of kit in Jake’s room was worth hundreds at least. And that theory of them being disturbed, Will just didn’t buy it: Chrissy said that when she got home, there was no sign of anybody. Surely if she had disturbed them, they would either have been rushing down the stairs as she opened the door, or still climbing over the fence in the back yard.

‘Good morning.’ May’s voice pulled him out of his reverie.

‘Morning,’ he replied.

‘The subway was really busy today,’ May said, taking off her coat and switching on her computer. ‘Do you need a coffee or something?’

‘No, I’m good, thanks.’ Will stepped over and pushed his door to as he spoke. ‘Catch you later; just have a few things to so here.’

As he sat down behind his desk, he could hear May talking to somebody who had just arrived. He heard a man’s voice, but couldn’t tell if it was Eddie who had just arrived, or Dan. It was probably Eddie: Dan was sure to be out somewhere, arranging some big contract.

So, they probably weren’t disturbed. They just weren’t in the house for very long.

They were looking for something specific.

But what?

Will swung his chair away from the desk and looked out of the window again. Not down at the street this time, just at what he could see of the skyline. He recalled the guy half-sitting in the men’s room. He had been clutching something, hadn’t he? What was it? A plastic card, white with edging. And something
one
printed on it. What was it: some kind of bank card, or an ID card?  It must have some significance; otherwise why was he grasping it so tightly?

Surely his attackers didn’t think Will took it?

Will sat back in his chair. He rested his head on the back of the chair, closing his eyes. So, if that theory is right, this little plastic card holds the key to why the guy was attacked - no, murdered - Sunday afternoon, and why his house was ransacked yesterday. They weren’t after him - it was this little card, whatever it was.

Should he go to the police? He tapped the side of his chair. No - that would lead them to infer that he had tampered with a crime scene, and get him into trouble. Even if he had taken the card. And it was just a wild theory, anyway.

But the two attackers wouldn’t know that he hadn’t taken it.

He opened his eyes and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk.

If they didn’t know for sure he hadn’t taken it, and didn’t find it in the house yesterday, then they might try again. And this time one of his family might be in the house.

Will tapped his chin with his fist. He needed to see what this card was about before they came back.

ELEVEN

The General Manager
of the Columbus Circle mall seemed to have a habit of clearing his throat every time before he spoke. An annoying habit, thought Detective Roberts; unless the guy just had a cough. She suspected he was not sick, and it was just a little habit as it was always a delicate little
hem
accompanied by an elaborate movement of his arm as he put a hand in front of his mouth. It was if he was announcing that he was about to speak.

‘Detective Roberts,’ he asked smugly, ‘are we in a position yet to open my restroom?’

Roberts’ eyes flashed over to Detective Alvarez; now he was clearing his throat and fidgeting, although she knew that this meant her partner was suppressing a snigger.

‘I want to thank you for your patience, sir,’ she replied, straight-faced. ‘I understand the forensic team is almost done.’

‘Do we have a timescale?’

‘I think we’re talking late morning to early afternoon.  Remember, sir, this was a murder scene, and being a men’s room, there was a lot of evidence to take.’

The Manager frowned. ‘But I understood -’

Alvarez cut in. ‘A men’s room contains a lot of DNA. Everywhere. Think about it.’

The penny dropped. The Manager nodded. ‘Ah.’

‘We will need to review your CCTV footage for that time,’ Roberts continued. She indicated over to the flat screen on the desk. ‘Is it possible to check it here, or do you have somewhere else we could go?’

‘I have a team of security officers. They have facilities in their suite for you to view the footage.’

‘Where is that?’ asked Roberts.

The Manager stood up. ‘I’ll take you down there now.’

Roberts and Alvarez followed him to the room where they had originally spoken to Will Carter. The security guard they had encountered before was sitting at his desk watching his screen. He looked up when they entered the room.

The Manager said, ‘These officers need to see the camera footage from the other afternoon.’

‘Right,’ said the guard.

‘I’ll leave them with you, then.’ He turned to Roberts and Alvarez. ‘I’ll be in my office if you need me, officers.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Roberts replied politely.

The guard waited for his boss to leave, then said, ‘You can see it on this screen here.’ He turned the screen round and the officers could see it was split into four separate images.

‘Is there somewhere else we could use?’ Roberts asked. ‘Your manager spoke of a suite for security officers.’

He looked puzzled. ‘No, this is pretty much it.’

‘How many of you are there?’ Alvarez asked.

‘Me. And the guy who works nights.’

‘Two of you,’ stated Roberts.

‘U-huh.’

‘Can you bring up the recordings for Sunday afternoon?’ Roberts asked.

‘Sure.’ He leaned over the keyboard and after some mouse movements and clicking, the images on the screen changed. Reluctantly, he pulled his chair out for Roberts; Alvarez lifted his chair over the desk. The guard stood watching while the officers sat down.

‘How many cameras are there on each floor?’ Roberts asked.

‘Six on each floor, all movable.’

She looked over at Alvarez. ‘That ties in with what we could see outside the restroom.’ Then up at the guard, who was still standing watching.  ‘Don’t let us keep you. I’m sure you must have patrols to make.’

‘Okay. You’d better call me if you need any help with that.’

Alvarez smiled. ‘Thanks. These security systems are pretty standard, so I’m sure we’ll find our way round it. But, thanks - we’ll call if we need you.’

‘How is all this stored?’ Roberts asked.

‘It’s all kept on the mall mainframe,’ the guard explained. ‘Kept for six months, then wiped.’

‘But if we needed a copy, you could put it on a disk, or a memory stick?’

‘Or email as an attachment?’ added Alvarez.

‘Sure. All of those.’

Roberts nodded and smiled at the guard, who quickly got the message and left.

‘Team of security officers in their suite,’ Roberts muttered as he left. ‘Jesus Christ.’

‘He never patrols the mall,’ said Alvarez. ‘Just sits up here on his fat ass watching the screen.’

Roberts used the mouse to get to the top right image. The camera here was pointed directly at the men’s room door.  ‘I’ll try to fast forward until we see Carter go in.’

‘That’s him,’ said Alvarez after a few minutes. ‘With the little girl.’

‘And that’s the vic.’ Roberts tapped on the screen. Just as the man entered the men’s room, he turned, looked behind him, and hurried in.

‘He knew he was being followed,’ Alvarez said.

‘Or at least suspected.’

‘But why go in there?’ There’d be no way out. He’d be safer somewhere in plain sight.’

‘There. Look.’

Two figures followed him into the restroom. They were both wearing sweatshirts, both with their hoods up.

‘From their shape and gait,’ Alvarez said, ‘I’d guess they’re men in their twenties.’

‘Or even late teens. Their faces would be good.’

A few minutes later, the figures came out. Roberts quickly fingered the mouse and froze the picture. The men still had their hoods up, their faces not showing.

Roberts sat back and slid the keyboard over to Alvarez. ‘See if you can enlarge the picture; get it enhanced.’

‘I’ll try.’ A couple of clicks later and Alvarez blew the image up full screen size, but it was out of focus, and the men’s faces were still hidden in the shadow of their hoods.

‘Shit,’ Roberts muttered. ‘Think if we got this back, we’d be able to get it enhanced? Use one of those facial recognition programs?’

‘Possibly. But look - they know they’re on CCTV: they’re deliberately keeping their faces concealed.’

‘So we’re not talking about rookies here. Let’s check out the other cameras, ones on the other floors, too. These guys must have entered and left the mall somewhere; maybe they dropped their guard on their way out.’

Roberts and Alvarez spent the next two and a half hours trawling through hours of CCTV, trying to track the two men’s movements from when they entered the mall to when they left. Eventually they found the victim hurrying in through the glass revolving door, nervously looking around, and heading directly up the escalator. His attackers were half a minute behind him, pausing in the entrance to see where he had gone. One of them spotted him on the escalator and pointed.

At this point Roberts said, ‘If we’re ever going to get them, this is the point.’ She froze the picture and enlarged it. Still the faces were obscured by the hoods.

‘They might as well be wearing burkhas,’ Alvarez complained.

‘They knew exactly what they were doing. Okay. Let’s check any images from outside the mall; then go back to when they left the restroom.’

Once they had done, Roberts sat back and cursed. ‘Eric,’ she said, ‘we’re definitely not dealing with amateurs here. These guys were experts in dealing with security cameras.’

Alvarez asked, ‘Do you know of anyone with these, er – skills?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ll ask around, but I don’t think so.’ She turned to her partner. ‘We need to focus on the vic himself; see what connections he had.’

‘What about street cameras? We might have more luck there.’

‘Possibly. But where did they come from? Where did they go when they were done here? Central Park’s over the road, for God’s sake.’ She reached for her bag, pulled out a memory stick, and passed it to Alvarez. ‘Save that for me, Eric. We’ll have one more try at enhancing.’

As Alvarez fumbled under the desk, Roberts stood up. ‘I’ll see if they’ve finished with the crime scene, then we’ll go. We’re done here.’