Читать книгу Malicious - Jacob Stone - Страница 22

Chapter 15

Morris showed Gloria Finston video from the lobby surveillance camera, pausing it the moment the killer dressed as a deliveryman entered the building. The time of day was displayed in the bottom-right corner of the video, and it showed that this happened at eleven eighteen a.m.

Morris said, “He either thought it would take us longer than it did to discover Heather Brandley’s body, or he somehow knew it would take several hours after that before we’d come here to search her condo.”

LAPD had provided the laptop computer, and Morris and the FBI profiler were sitting behind the lobby security desk with Parker lying quietly by Morris’s feet. Finston looked away from the computer screen to search the wall behind them.

“I don’t see the surveillance camera,” she said.

Morris pointed out the small hole in the back wall that was somewhat camouflaged by a framed painting.

“It’s well hidden,” Finston observed. “He might not have known he was being recorded?”

“He didn’t care. He expected me to get a good look at him. Instead Annie spent ten minutes face to face with him. I think the only thing we can assume about his identity is that he’s Caucasian, in his thirties, and that he doesn’t have red hair, wear glasses, or have a beard or mustache. And that he’s five feet eleven inches tall.”

“How did you get his height?”

“We have a point of reference with how he’s standing next to the door. The crime scene folks insist that’s how tall he is, assuming he’s not wearing lifts in his shoes.”

Morris continued the video. The killer came to life carrying a box across the lobby and placing it on top of the security desk. While the doorman couldn’t be seen in the video, the clipboard that he handed over to the killer could be. As the killer took the clipboard with his left hand, he reached behind his back with his right and pulled out a gun, which he pointed straight ahead. Morris again paused the video.

“The gun barrel looks unnaturally long,” Finston noted. “A suppressor?”

“Yep. A 9 mm with a suppressor attached. The gun will still make a noticeable popping sound when fired, but if the bathroom walls are constructed solidly enough, it’s likely no one outside of the lobby would’ve heard it. Forensics will be figuring that out. The blazer and tie he wore when Annie spoke to him must’ve been inside the box.”

Morris continued the video, and it showed the killer transferring the gun to his right hand, sliding the box under his left arm, and disappearing out of the frame. Morris again stopped the video.

“At this point he must have taken the victim to the bathroom. The crime scene folks were able to determine from the blood splatter and the angle of the bullet wound that the victim was on his knees when he was shot in the back of the head. The killer then changed his clothes and masqueraded as the doorman.”

“After putting an ‘Out of Order’ sign on the bathroom door.”

Morris said, “Correct. There’s also a surveillance camera covering the back door, and it shows him leaving the building at one thirty-seven, again carrying that same box. That was about the time Annie and I were sitting together in the park across the street.”

Finston got up so she could walk over to the vestibule door. “He would’ve been able to see you from here,” she said.

“That’s right.”

Finston appeared deep in thought as she stroked her pointed chin and made her way back to her chair behind the security desk. She looked up at Morris with thoughtful eyes.

“Those inscribed business cards weren’t left simply to get you involved in these murders,” she said. “While his plan might need you to be involved, he also wants to taunt you. This is personal with him. Very much so. We know he’s in disguise, and he could even be wearing prosthetics, but is it possible that you know him?”

“No, not possible. I don’t care how much he might’ve disguised himself, I’ve never seen him before.”

“His animus toward you could be because of a relative you arrested, or even something unrelated to your time as an LAPD detective. Morris, you need to explore that avenue.”

Morris felt the same dull throbbing behind his eyes that he had experienced earlier that morning. This was turning into a mess. While he knew Finston was right, he still asked whether it was possible that the killer simply wanted to prove his superiority to the famed serial killer hunter. “After all, you said the guy’s a narcissist. Isn’t that what an extreme narcissist would do?”

“There’s more to it than that. He didn’t come here just to gloat. He wanted you to be tormented by the fact that you had him and let him slip away.”

“If that’s true, why did he flee instead of sticking around so he could face me?”

“Because he realized he had made a mistake with Detective Walsh, and he was afraid you’d pick up on it.”

Morris started massaging his temples, hoping to soothe the throbbing that had spread from behind his eyes to the back of his skull.

“Possibly,” he admitted. “He stuck around after executing Javier Lopez for some sort of demented thrill, but I think he might’ve had another reason for killing Lopez. You know the story he told Annie about Heather Brandley yesterday returning from a run, and then an hour later coming back down to the lobby dressed to kill, as if she had a hot date? I’d bet money that’s true—that this was yet another way for the killer to smirk at us, in this case by telling us what actually happened. I’d also bet money that her hot date was with the killer. That he had met her at the end of her run. And I’d also bet that somebody let him know when she had left the building to go running and how long she usually ran for, so that the killer could accidentally meet her.”

“A doorman working here would know that.”

Morris said, “My thoughts exactly.”