The One That Got Away (15 page)

The picture he’d built up was of a young woman who skated through life with little drive or concern for anyone other than herself. Regardless of her failings, she hadn’t deserved the brutal death she’d endured—and she had endured. The coroner’s preliminary report estimated she’d suffered forty lashes. Even though a flogging like that seemed as if it would have been enough to kill her, it had been a knife wound to her heart that had been the cause of death. The coroner surmised she would have blacked out at some point during the whipping. He couldn’t imagine the pain and torment she’d endured.

Poor kid
, he thought.

The Tally Man was a sadistic piece of shit. He couldn’t wait to arrest the bastard. The unfortunate side of the justice system was that the Tally Man would never experience the same level of pain as his victims had. Society was supposed to be better than its criminals, never stooping to their level of depravity. In the Tally Man’s case, he wished society could make an exception. He deserved to suffer like his prey had and then some.

He stepped back from the whiteboard and perched himself on the corner of Ogawa’s desk to get a look at the big picture. The murder board looked distinctly lopsided. It was divided into columns with information on the various persons of interest. Columns for Zoë Sutton, Holli Buckner, and Laurie Hernandez were fleshed out. Little information existed for the Tally Man, other than his murder weapons and methodology. The columns for Victims I, II, and V were blank. Ogawa hadn’t liked there being real estate on the murder board dedicated to victims outside their investigation and, more than likely, their jurisdiction, but Greening thought they deserved mentioning. If they managed to put names to the numerals, the potential correlations could help connect them to the Tally Man.

Ogawa walked in. “Hey, I thought you’d left for the Mono County Sheriffs’.”

“I will when I’ve wrapped this up.”

Ogawa pulled up his chair and sat alongside Greening. The two of them stared at the board.

“Tally Man, really? You had to use the name the press gave him?”

Greening had tired of just seeing “Perpetrator” up there. In most cases, they had suspects with names and identities to put on the board. In this case, they had nothing other than a nickname. Despite the cheesiness of the nickname, it kept him mindful of this guy’s agenda—a killer who kept score.

“What would you prefer—
perp
or
evil-doer
?”

Ogawa snorted. “I prefer
douche
, but I’ll take anything over what a journalist invented.”

“Got anything to add to the board?”

Ogawa shook his head. “Our guy is a careful son of a bitch. He left nothing at the crime scene, other than Laurie Hernandez.”

Considering he’d notched up six victims without being caught, it wasn’t surprising. He would have gotten good at his craft.

“He gained access to Pier 25 by boat,” Ogawa said. “No security cameras pointed out at the bay. His choice of weaponry is bad news for us. We’ve yet to create a national database for whips, and the knife he’s using is a common hunting knife. If he’d used a gun, at least we’d have ballistics to point us somewhere.”

“He’s not infallible. He already screwed up the Sutton/Buckner kill by letting Zoë escape. He’ll screw up again.”

“So it’ll be lucky number seven for us, is that what you’re saying?”

The truth of the matter was that a seventh victim would help them catch this guy, but that was too steep a price to pay. “No. I’m just saying there’s evidence out there that’ll lead us to him, and it’s his mistakes that’ll do it.”

Ogawa was silent for a moment. “I’ve been trying to get a handle on this prick. The numbering thing—whose benefit is that for?”

“Killers like this feel the need to signify their work some way—either by collecting or marking. Our boy is a marker.”

“I wish he was a collector. If he kept souvenirs from any of his kills, it would make nailing this guy a damn sight easier. But why number these people? It’s not like he’s leaving the bodies out for us to find.”

Ogawa is right about that
, Greening thought. They’d plugged the numerical scarring into every national and local database and got nothing matching the Tally Man’s MO. “He’s obsessive-compulsive. He’s keeping score, even if he’s the only one who knows it.”

“We need something else.” Ogawa went to the murder board and pored over the information.

“There’s got to be something in his victims. Guys like this have a type. They kill the same person again and again.”

“So what’s his type?”

Female, as far as Greening had determined so far. At least with Zoë Sutton coming forward, they had a better grasp on the situation. Without that, they’d really be scrabbling for a thread. He pushed himself off Ogawa’s desk and went to the whiteboard.

“There isn’t much in the way of similarities between these three. All three can be considered attractive and are in their twenties, but that’s where the commonality ends. Laurie Hernandez didn’t graduate high school, while Zoë Sutton and Holli Buckner were in PhD programs. Zoë and Holli have no association with Laurie Hernandez. Zoë is blonde, while Holli and Laurie were brunettes. Zoë is on the short side, Holli was tall, Laurie was average height. Laurie and Zoë both have criminal records, albeit misdemeanors, while Holli had none.”

Ogawa tapped the dates of the charges against Zoë’s name. “And all Zoë’s convictions came after her abduction, so that doesn’t jive with anything.”

Greening nodded. If the Tally Man had a type, not having a type was his type. If only they had some information on Victims I, II, and V. It would either make or break that theory.

“The Tally Man is an equal-opportunity killer. He goes for good girls and bad ones.”

Then something clicked in Greening’s head. “That’s not strictly true. As far as he’s concerned, they’re not good girls. He grabbed Zoë and Holli after they’d been rowdy at some restaurant, and Laurie Hernandez seemed to be pissing someone off at all times.”

Greening shook his head at his own conclusion. It had seemed as if he had something when he’d thought of it, but the idea went stale as he said it. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe he goes after bad girls. Zoë remembers the Tally Man asking Holli if she was sorry.”

“It kicks up some interesting ideas,” said Ogawa. “If we use Zoë and Holli as models for all the victims, it would go a little something like this: he witnesses a woman behaving inappropriately—he dopes her, abducts her, and kills her at a prearranged kill site. If we apply this to Laurie Hernandez, what have we got? We know where he killed her. The coroner found a puncture mark, and the tox screen, when it comes back, will more than likely tell us she was doped. What we don’t know is where he witnessed her bad behavior.”

“She worked at that costume-jewelry-and-ear-piercing joint in the Westfield, which I can’t see being a regular Tally Man haunt. Although, considering no one saw her after she left work, he more than likely snatched her on her way home. That means he knew where she worked.”

“Which means he watched her long before he snatched her. That’s a change from Zoë and Holli. It seems like he was opportunistic there. Whatever unsavory thing he witnessed Laurie Hernandez doing, he probably saw it at some place they both frequented. See if you can establish a list of her regular haunts, and we’ll check them out for any incidents.” Ogawa put his hands together. “Let’s pray to the gods of CCTV for it to be caught on camera.”

“We’re focusing on his victims, but what about him? If this guy is so sensitive to improper behavior, there’s a chance he would have gotten into it with someone at some point, resulting in a police call.”

Ogawa smiled. “Yeah, I like that. I’ll check the FI reports. They brought down Son of Sam on a parking violation. I’d love to see an asshole as pious as this one brought down because he gave his information during a field interview.”

Greening looked at what they had again and shook his head. “I can’t believe this guy is on a crusade against girls going wild.”

“I’m guessing he’s no fan of
Sex and the City
either.” Ogawa shrugged. “Like you were expecting anything more from this guy?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Zoë’s heart fluttered when Las Vegas appeared small on the horizon. It glowed in the night, thanks to a million lights and miles and miles of neon. The sight of the city at the end of the freeway announced her task was just beginning. Until now, she had just been driving, a passive pursuit, just travel. Her destination was now within arm’s length. It signaled the true beginning of this trip. The prospect of what she’d discover both exhilarated and frightened her. Jarocki was on speed dial, in case events overwhelmed her.

At least she’d gotten farther than she had last year. Once she’d left San Francisco city limits, her bravado had waned, but the real test had come when she’d reached Livermore. The invincibility she’d shown in Jarocki’s office had seemed to desert her as she’d reached the stretch of road she hadn’t managed to broach last time—her palms had been damp and butterflies had swarmed in her stomach. She’d breathed deeply, pushed down on the accelerator, and blew past the spot, trying not to think about it. As soon as she’d made it past that point, her confidence had risen. Breaking that barrier told her she wasn’t the same person she’d been last year. She was better. Stronger. With purpose. That monster who’d driven her life, hopes, and dreams onto the rocks no longer controlled her life. She couldn’t completely move on until he was in jail, but this was the tipping point, the moment where she started taking back her life.

“Your days are numbered, Tally Man,” she murmured to herself.

When she reached the outskirts of Las Vegas, she eyed the clock on the rental car’s dashboard. It was close to 11:00 p.m. The drive had taken her close to ten hours. She’d learned all over again how dull six hundred miles of road was. At least before, she and Holli had had each other to talk to when they’d done it. This time, she was alone with her thoughts. Memories of that previous trip seeped into her mind—the conversations, the gambling, the nightclubs, and the drinking. She teared up when she hit the black spot where the memories dissolved and the nightmare took over. The wounds were still raw. If she let them bleed before she was ready to face them, she’d never reach Vegas. She put the car on cruise control and did the same with her thoughts. She focused on the road and the changing scenery, listened to the radio and sung along with the songs. She forced herself to live in the moment and not the past. And it worked. She was here—the halfway point.

She navigated her way onto the Strip, and pulled into the parking garage for Caesar’s Palace, where they’d stayed before. If she was replicating her movements, it meant overnighting at the same hotel.

“We have you for just the one night,” the desk clerk said.

Mall management had given her the week off after taking down Brad Ellis’s iPhone thief, but a single night was all she needed for this excursion.

“That’s barely enough time to have fun here in beautiful Lost Wages,” he said with a smile and a wink.

Zoë bit back the urge to tell him she wasn’t here for fun. That would have been an impulsive response, and Jarocki wouldn’t have liked that. “I’m just passing through on my way home.”

The clerk smiled. “Then you’ve picked a good pit stop. One night is plenty of time to get into trouble.”

“I don’t want trouble.”

The clerk’s gaze lingered on the bruising on her face. Zoë watched potential story lines play across his expression.
Abused wife on the run, maybe? Hooker escaping her pimp?
She almost smiled at the thought. His jovial demeanor collapsed, and he turned businesslike. He handed her two card keys and told her the room number before wishing her a good stay.

Her room was small, and cramped by the presence of two beds. It was the same configuration as last time. She looked out the window at the view, which consisted of the parking structure with the Palms and Rio in the distance. Out there, thousands of people were having fun. The thought depressed her.

“Shake it off, Zoë.”

She felt bad for throwing a barb at the desk clerk. Maybe she should have fun. She deserved to celebrate. Jarocki liked to talk of breakthroughs and how she wouldn’t necessarily recognize them until they struck. This was striking time. She was claiming her life back.

She tossed her overnight bag on the nearest bed, pulled her things out, and hung up the red minidress she hadn’t worn since punching Rick Sobona. She jumped in the shower and washed off ten hours of road and recycled air. She shampooed her hair and styled it to make it more edgy and dangerous. She worked the makeup hard to hide the bruising. The careful application of foundation and blush gave her stunning cheekbones.

Before she slipped into the dress, she examined the blotches of purple and blue mottling both sides of her rib cage where the iPhone thief-not-so-extraordinaire had pummeled her. She stared at the damage before applying concealer. How many times had she picked up injuries like this in the last year? Five? Six? She thought it was closer to nine. They were nothing serious—always superficial. Nevertheless, Jarocki was right. She did put herself in the firing line. No one she knew got hurt as routinely as she did. She blamed it on the fact that people underestimated her. She was female and slight, which made them think she was unsubstantial, a paper target. Those people learned that she was a force to be reckoned with and wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. She pulled up the zipper and smoothed her dress down over her hips.

It was midnight when she reached the casino floor. Although it was a weeknight, the casino was bustling. She guessed that if you were in Vegas, you didn’t have a day job to wake up to in the morning.

She changed two hundred bucks into chips, although she didn’t plan on spending more than half. She couldn’t afford to lose more than that.

She hit a packed craps table. She liked craps because of the decent odds and the community spirit. It wasn’t long before she had forty bucks on the pass line, a cosmo in one hand, and the dice in the other. People cheered when she rolled and willed her to do well. She liked the thrill of the unknown and the unforeseeable consequences. Each cast of the dice could lead to fortune or ruin.