The One That Got Away (11 page)

“OK, let’s try this for real,” Monica said.

Zoë made a slow-motion lunge at Monica. She followed the three-step move, dropping Zoë to the mat, then made several more attempts with the same result.

Karen moved from pair to pair, providing assistance. She stopped to survey Zoë and Monica’s progress. She gave Monica a couple of pointers and had Zoë go at Monica with more speed than before. The end result was the same. Zoë ended up on the mat. Zoë knew, as the attacker, she was the fall guy, but she wasn’t making for a worthy opponent. She should have at least made it a challenge for Monica. Her head wasn’t in the game tonight.

Lara Finz had deceived her so easily. It made a mockery of everything she did in this class. She was supposed to keep her guard up at all times, and at the first true test, she’d failed. And the journalist was nothing compared to a real predator. She needed to get her shit together, especially with that son of a bitch in the city.

“I think I’ve got this,” Monica said. “Wanna take the reins now?”

Zoë nodded.

Monica played statue while Zoë followed the steps. Karen provided adjustments until Zoë had the move down. Then Karen moved on to the next pairing.

“Let’s try this with some movement,” Zoë said.

Monica came at Zoë slowly, but moving complicated the action. She missed with a side kick, lost her balance, and fell.

“Damn it,” Zoë hissed.

“Don’t sweat it. Let’s try again.”

The second time around, Zoë didn’t get herself positioned correctly before Monica was on top of her.

“C’mon, Zoë. You can do this.”

Zoë nearly told Monica what she could do with her encouragement. Monica didn’t know anything about her.

“Do you want me to show you the move?”

“No,” Zoë barked.

Monica blinked in surprise.

“No. Sorry. I’ve got this.”

“OK,” Monica said. “Let’s try it again. On your call.”

Zoë nodded and Monica came for her. Again, Zoë was too slow with her reaction and clumsy with her delivery, and Monica caught her off balance, sending her crashing to the mat.

“Shit.”

“It’s OK,” Monica said and offered a hand.

Zoë reluctantly took her classmate’s hand. “Let’s go again.”

“Sure.”

They went again and Zoë made the move work, but Monica had definitely backed off to make it easier for her to defend herself.

“One more time, before we review this combination,” Karen said. “So make it count.”

“You heard the lady,” Monica said.

“This time, no soft sell.”

Monica smiled. “Sure thing.”

She charged Zoë. Zoë saw the opening she needed to pull off the initial side kick and missed it. Monica brought down an imaginary knife slash and clipped Zoë across the jaw. It was an accident. Zoë knew it was an accident. But her reaction was immediate and impulse driven. She backhanded Monica. The slap froze Monica to the spot. It was all the opening Zoë needed. She followed the backhand with a palm drive to Monica’s sternum. The impact sent her crashing to the mat with a scream. Zoë drew back a fist, in case Monica retaliated.

“Zoë!” Karen screamed.

Karen’s shout jerked Zoë from her daze. Everyone was staring at her, shock and disgust on their faces. Monica was crying. Two women rushed forward and helped her up.

Zoë opened her mouth to apologize, but the words didn’t come. She was just as shocked at what she’d done as everyone else.

Karen pointed at the door. “Get the hell out, Zoë.”

Zoë nodded. It was the only thing she could do. She stood and turned to see Inspector Ryan Greening standing at the reception desk.

Shit
, she thought.

When she passed him to collect her things, he said, “I think we need to talk.”

CHAPTER TEN

Inspector Greening held the door open for Zoë, and they walked out into the night. The sounds of her classmates’ dismay and disgust filtered through the studio’s frosted-glass windows. She crossed the street to her motorcycle to get away from her screwup. Greening followed her.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“I went by the mall to see you, but you had already left. One of your colleagues told me where you were.”

Greening could have easily called ahead or even made an appointment, but he’d dropped by unannounced so that he could catch her in her natural habitat. She didn’t have to ask him if she was a suspect. The fact that he’d witnessed her little display in class had probably done nothing to shake his suspicion. When she screwed up, she really screwed up.

“You want to tell me what just happened in there?” he asked.

“Nothing. I just got carried away. It happens. What do you want?”

“I have some things to tell you about our investigation, but I have some questions too. Do you have some time to talk?”

The question sounded more like a request. “Sure. Where do you want to do this?”

“I want to go over some of the events from last night, so how about we go to that place you were drinking at, Ferdinand’s?”

Zoë groaned inside. The last thing she wanted was to go back to the scene of her crime. She tried to think of an excuse why they couldn’t return there but came up short. She surrendered and said, “Sure. Whatever.”

He insisted on driving, so she left her bike where it was. She felt he was controlling the situation in a passive-aggressive way. That was the cops’ MO—make you feel like you had a choice when you didn’t.

It was another busy night on Russian Hill. The area around Ferdinand’s was packed and it took Greening three blocks to find parking. They walked together. A casual observer might have mistaken them for a couple, if he didn’t look very closely.

Ferdinand’s was as busy as the night before. It was a crush all the way to the door, and the restaurant didn’t have much in the way of tables.

“It’s a war zone in there,” she said. “Sure you want to discuss police stuff with so many people around?”

“I think we’ll be OK.”

She conceded there was no avoiding this and walked inside with him.

Stepping into the restaurant, she felt uncomfortable. Ferdinand’s didn’t have a dress code, but no one else was slumming it in workout gear. They’d have to trade off Greening’s suit and badge. Last night she’d come in here dressed to kill, and here she was in sweats and a hoodie.

But her workout look also worked for her. She recognized a couple of faces among the staff, but they didn’t recognize her. Last night, she’d looked like a million bucks. Tonight, she looked like fifty with change. No wonder no one recognized her. That helped shift a load from her shoulders.

Greening asked the hostess for a table. As she picked up her clipboard to get his name, he casually flashed his badge. They were seated immediately, although immediately didn’t mean a good table. They ended up with a two-top in the window by the door. He took the seat facing the door—the seat she wanted. She never liked having her back to the entrance. You never knew who might creep up on you. It wasn’t something that had bothered her before the abduction.

“Come here often?” he asked, looking around before turning to the menu.

“Now and again.”

Has it been only a day since I was here last?
It seemed like a lifetime ago. She wished she was as carefree as the other customers. They were happy, laughing, and joking, as if a murder hadn’t happened just a handful of miles away. But it hadn’t happened for them, had it? People recognized death only when it touched them. She bet that if she asked any of them if someone had been murdered last night, they wouldn’t know. No one really took notice. No wonder killers could operate for so long with impunity.

“You eaten?” he asked.

“No.”

“Me neither. I’m starving. Order whatever you like. This is on me.”

She didn’t like the idea of a free meal from a cop. It would come with strings. “We can split the bill.”

“It’s on me.” He smiled. “Actually, I should say it’s on the department.”

She didn’t know much about police department expenses, but she doubted they covered dinners with persons of interest. “That’s OK. I’m not that hungry.”

He frowned. “Suit yourself.”

Their server introduced himself and set down a bottle of water. He asked if they wanted anything from the bar. Both of them said no, but Greening ordered a number of small plates.

“Feel free to pick from my plates.”

She wasn’t sure if this was an interrogation or a date. The latter was unlikely, but Greening was certainly buttering her up for some reason—and it couldn’t be good.

“You said you have an update.”

“I do.” He straightened in his seat and leaned forward. “There have been a few developments.”

“Like what?”

“We’ve identified the woman from last night. Her name was Laurie Hernandez. Did you know her?”

Zoë shook her head.

“Didn’t think so. It was a long shot,” he said. “I have a more serious question. Have you spoken to the press?”

“No,” she lied. It was a white lie. The press had tried to talk to her. She hadn’t wanted to speak to them. As much as it would be gratifying to set Greening on Lara Finz, the potential backlash from an assault charge prevented her.

“Have you? It’s important, Zoë.”

“No. Why?”

He removed a copy of the
Chronicle
from his pocket and put it on the table. “They’ve given him a name.”

She looked the story over, and Lara Finz’s name was on the byline.
Bitch
, she thought.

She scanned the rest of the article and stopped when she reached her killer’s public identity. He didn’t have a face, but he had a name—the Tally Man. She exhaled.

“Yeah, not exactly original, but potentially accurate.”

“How did this happen?”

“You were caught on the TV news last night, flashing us your scar.”

Reflexively, her hand went to the spot on her hip. She colored at the obvious tell.

“But you guys came up with the theory about him numbering his victims.”

Greening sighed. “The feeling is that someone within the department leaked that detail. It’s not unheard of for someone to sell information to the media. Rest assured, when the person is found there’ll be some serious butt kicking.”

Rest assured? What a joke
, she thought.
What else has Greening’s department leaked?
Was that the reason Lara Finz found me so easily?

“My name can’t be released to the press. He might recognize me.”

“Yes, I know. Inspector Ogawa is in contact with the
Chronicle
over this point. Please don’t worry.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” She slammed her hand down on the table. Heads turned their way. She lowered her voice. “He doesn’t have unfinished business with you.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Tell me one thing. Is it the same guy?”

“Yes, we think it is. Laurie Hernandez was stripped, strung up by her wrists, and viciously whipped before this guy killed her. Obviously, we can’t do a handwriting comparison, but the scars look to have been cut by the same person.”

It was somewhat of a relief to hear it. For so long, people had viewed her as some party girl who’d gotten so wasted she didn’t know fact from fiction. But she’d been victimized, and no one could deny it anymore. It just felt wrong that her vindication came at the price of another person’s life. It was a sad victory.

It really was
him
. The Tally Man was in her city. It didn’t matter if her name appeared in the newspapers or on TV, she’d already drawn attention to herself at the crime scene. All he had to do was look at the news to know she was close. The son of a bitch had the advantage on her. He knew what she looked like. He could stand in front of her, and she wouldn’t recognize him.

“So Laurie Hernandez was number six, Holli was number three, and I was number four. What about one, two, and five?”

“We’re looking into it. We’re running searches on similar victimology.”

Zoë winced.
Victimology
was a hard word to hear when you were a previous victim.

“Sorry. Cop speak. Not always easy on the ear.”

“It’s OK.”

“The problem is the search range. The suspect won’t be local, considering where he abducted you. The other victims could be anywhere in the country. That’s going to be tough to narrow down, and it will take a while. The law enforcement machine is thorough but it’s also slow.”

The plates Greening ordered arrived. He cherry-picked from all the appetizers and encouraged her to do the same. Despite her bad mood, she was hungry. Apparently, kicking the crap out of a classmate did that to a person. She grabbed a couple of spring rolls.

“I don’t think you’ll find the other victims,” she said.

“What makes you say that?”

“No one ever found Holli, and I was with her to report the abduction. I don’t think he wants his victims found. I bet you wouldn’t have found Laurie Hernandez if he hadn’t been disturbed.”

“Maybe, but mistakes are how cases are broken,” Greening said. “Most crimes are spur-of-the-moment and improvised. I doubt if most criminals plan more than a couple of hours ahead at any point. Even someone as organized as this guy won’t have all the angles covered. Nobody does. He’s one man against the might of the SFPD and all the other branches of law enforcement throughout the Bay Area and the country. Have a little faith in us. This Tally Man screwed up with you and again last night. That makes me feel confident of our chances.”

She liked his analysis, but did feel a certain amount of salesmanship in his pitch. The Tally Man had managed to remain hidden for years, so chances were he could for years to come. As much as a single person was no match for a police department the size of the SFPD, the Tally Man had an advantage over an organization that big. He had the ability to go unnoticed, the flexibility to move quickly and change plans. That maneuverability was hard to beat.

She kept her thoughts to herself. It would have come off as uncharitable. After all, she had to believe in the SFPD because she desperately wanted the Tally Man to be caught. She needed to have his spell over her broken.