Murder 42 - A Thriller (Sarah King Mysteries Book 2) (18 page)

“I’m coming too.”

“No, Sarah, you stay where you are. Do not come out here.”

“I’m sorry, he’s in this because of me. I’m not letting him die.”

He sighed. “Well, at least call me when you land and I’ll pick you up.”

“I will. And Stefan… be careful.”

“I will.”

She hung up and looked at the rising sun to the east. She wanted to take a shower to get the energy of the jail off her. Too many dead, too many restless souls in one place. If she had been forced to stay much longer, would it have caused her to go insane? Seeing the dead in flashes was one thing, but what about living with them? The thought sent a shudder through her. She pushed it out of her mind as she opened a ride-finder app on her phone and requested a ride to the airport.

40

The hotel looked nice on the outside, but when Stefan stepped through the entrance doors he smelled weed. It was more commonplace in California now, and even some doctors and judges he knew smoked it. He would have to break his association with it as a drug used by criminals in seedy motel or dorm rooms.

The clerk behind the counter sat reading a computer screen and couldn’t have cared less whether people were waiting for him or not. Stefan had called ahead. Gio never checked out.

“Excuse me,” he said, going to the counter. The man didn’t look up from the computer screen. Stefan knocked on the counter, and the man’s eyes darted to his as though he was some vile scum intruding on a meditation session.

“What you want?”

“I need to know if you have video of your hallways and exterior. I saw a camera out by the door.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So… is it working?”

“I guess.”

Stefan pulled out his badge and flashed it. “I need to see the video from last night.”

He shrugged. “I ain’t got it. We got some company that does all that shit for us.”

“Well, get me the company’s info so I can call them.”

The guy exhaled loudly and got up. He riffled through something underneath the counter and came up with a list of various phone numbers. Poison Control, the fire department, the police, and about a dozen others along with Castle Security. Stefan dialed the number on his phone and hoped they weren’t closed yet.

“Castle Security, this is Monica, how can I help you?”

“Yeah, Monica, this is Special Agent Stefan Miles with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m over here at the San Del Hotel in Santa Monica, and I need to get access to the video feed from last night. Um, I’ll need the front and back entrances and anything you have in the hallways.”

“Sir, we should have personnel onsite who can help you with that.”

Stefan looked at the guy behind the counter, who was back at his computer screen with a wide smile on his face. “All right, I’ll hunt them down. Thank you.” Stefan hung up, leaned over the counter, and asked, “Where’s your security guard, asshole?”

“In back,” he said without looking up.

Stefan strode around the counter and into a back room. He crossed the room and came out another door, where a security guard sat with his feet up on a desk in a small room. Before him were three monitors with video feeds of the front and back entrances of the hotel, as well as one of the lobby. The guard looked up. Stefan saw the man’s name tag said “Chris Jimenez.”

Stefan flashed him his badge. “I need to see the video feed from last night.”

“Sorry, don’t have it.”

Shit
, Stefan thought.
Is everybody in this place trying to not help
? “How can I get it?”

“Can’t. We don’t record. It’s just a live feed into this room.”

“What does that do?”

“Nothin’ really. But it’s cheaper than recording every night. If I see somethin’ really crazy, I can call the cops.”

Stefan sighed and leaned against the wall. “Somebody was here last night, a guest. I called earlier, and he never checked out. The cleaning ladies went into the room, and his stuff was there, but he wasn’t.”

“Forget to check out or somethin’?”

“I don’t know. I have some reason to believe he was abducted outside your hotel.”

“No shit? Wow. Um, I guess you could try that ATM on the corner. You can see the front entrance pretty good from there.”

“Thanks.”

Stefan left and went back to the front counter. “I need a key to Gio Adami’s room.”

“I can’t give out keys to people’s rooms.”

“He’s an agent with the FBI, like me, and if you don’t give me a damn key, I am going to arrest you.”

“For what?”

“For being a fucking incompetent douchebag. Now give me a key.”

The guy mumbled something and then reached into a bag and pulled out a plastic card the size of a credit card. He ran it through a scanner and handed the card to Stefan. “Room 112.”

As he hurried to the room, Stefan placed a call to the Bureau and Gio’s assistant, asking for the video feed from the ATM on the corner. His assistant, a girl named Crystal, said she would get it for him right away. But “right away” could mean in an hour, or it could mean in a month if the bank wouldn’t respond to anything but a subpoena.

Stefan found room 112 and slid the card through the lock. The red light switched to green, and he opened the door. The room had been cleaned, the bed made, and the towels changed. He first went into the bathroom and looked around the toilet. He opened the lid to the tank and looked inside then searched the rest of the bathroom. Without any idea what he was looking for, everyplace was a hiding place.

He checked cupboards and drawers, underneath the bed, and in the closet. Gio’s gym bag lay in a corner, and Stefan went through it. There wasn’t anything of interest other than a laminated baseball card of some rookie Stefan had never heard of. He tossed it back into the bag.

He rose and looked over the room. There was nothing there. The ATM might’ve been his only shot. Just in case, he tried Gio’s phone again, and it went straight to voicemail. Stefan left the room and the hotel.

He sat in his car for a minute and thought about what to do next. If Gio really was gone, he should put out a “Be On the Look Out” call for him. But without a vehicle description, it would just be Gio’s face plastered in a few key spots, a message sent to patrol cars, and TSA would be put on alert. He decided to do it anyway.

Stefan sighed and went back to Gio’s room after putting in the BOLO call. He would wait here, maybe run and grab something to eat really quickly, and hope Gio came back. He lay down on the bed and flipped on the television.

41

The next flight for California didn’t leave for half an hour and then took three hours to get there, which meant Sarah wouldn’t land in Los Angeles until eight in the evening. By then, it might be too late.

She sat in the terminal and tried to occupy her mind. This man, whoever he was, was just that: a man. He wasn’t some devil, as she’d believed at the start of this case. He was a man who was, in the end, destroying himself—because the good part of him couldn’t tolerate the bad. She knew that now. And if he wanted to destroy himself, the quickest way was to get caught. He left something behind that would lead to him; she just had to find it.

Sarah watched a family seated across from her. The mother was busy with two young kids while the father played on his phone. One of the children, a young girl, ran up to her and said, “Hi.” Sarah smiled, and the child ran off before she could reply.

The girls were maybe six and eight, the same age difference she and her sister Star had been. The memories that flooded her mind were as painful as anything the “gift” imposed. Star had died at the hands of a maniac because he wanted to find Sarah. Sarah knew Star had crossed over to wherever it was people crossed over to, and she knew that Star had found her peace, but it didn’t help Sarah feel any less guilty about her sister’s death.

Sarah pictured them as young kids playing in the fields near their childhood home. They had horses, cows, ducks, pigs and chickens to keep them company. Never did they feel alone, not until Sarah began displaying curious behavior and the other kids didn’t want to play with her. But Star never left her side.

“You can go play,” Sarah had said to her once when the other kids refused to let Sarah join them.

“No, you’re my sister. Sisters always stick together.”

The boarding call was announced, and Sarah’s eyes opened though she hadn’t been aware they were closed. Sarah checked the time on her phone: half an hour had passed. She glanced around and didn’t see the family anymore. After stretching from side to side, she rose and boarded the plane.

She felt the initial anxiety again—fluttering in her gut and heat in her face. She asked the stewardess for some water, and the stewardess said she couldn’t bring it out until they were at cruising altitude.

Sarah texted Stefan before turning off her phone, letting him know she was three hours away. A man sat down next to her. He kept glancing at her legs, and she tried to ignore him by looking out the window.

“You live in LA?” he said to Sarah.

“No, just visiting.”

“I live there. There and Miami. I got homes in both places.” He paused, as though she was supposed to say something. When Sarah didn’t, he went on. “I’m a real estate developer. Not a bad gig, considering. What do you do?”

“I work at a bookstore.”

“Oh,” he said, trying not to act condescending. “So, you like it? ’Cause I’m always looking for salesgirls if you don’t.”

She smiled. “Does that line work on anybody?”

“What line? I’m serious. My girls make six figures every year. If you’re interested, we can talk some more.”

Sarah eyed him a moment then reached over and touched his hand. She saw his home: a condo overlooking the city. A woman sat on the sofa, and he stood up and went to a bar in the corner to mix them drinks. Out of a chrome jar, he removed a small white pill, crushed it on a plate, and dumped the powder into one of the drinks before serving it to the woman.

“No thanks,” she said. “I would prefer not to be raped.”

Sarah turned back to the window, and the man didn’t say anything. This was always one of the hardest aspects of what she could do. Here was a man committing acts of great evil, but she didn’t know if she could do anything to stop him. Sure, she could go to law enforcement, and if she made up an excuse about how she knew he was drugging and raping women, they might believe her, but it wouldn’t matter. Because the same day, she might see another man who killed a homeless person, or another who molested his daughter, or another who stole from his business partner, and another that beat his wife. She might see all these things, and she would have neither the time nor the energy to stop them all. The fact was, more than anything, she was an observer.

Still, she couldn’t just let him get away with it. She turned and touched him again, a slow wave of pain rising in her belly as she leaned toward his ear. “You need to turn yourself in to the police. If you don’t, they’ll come for you, and it’ll be much worse. You’re on their radar now. If you walked in and turned yourself in, they would take it easier on you.” She paused, getting an impression of him sitting in a pew, wearing a suit with a Bible in hand, rocking gently back and forth as he prayed. “God wants you to turn yourself in. To alleviate the burden you’ve been carrying for so long.”

The man’s lip started quivering, and he turned away, his eyes filling with tears. “I can’t stop,” he whispered.

“God has given you a way to stop. When we land, go to the nearest police station and tell them what you’ve done. You will feel like a new man.”

Sarah turned away from him. She pulled out a napkin from her pocket and dabbed at the blood on her lip. The plane zipped along the runway and then lifted into the air.

42

The darkness was there whether his eyes were open or not: a pure, complete lack of light. It was also cold, and Gio felt goose bumps on his skin. His head was throbbing, and his neck shot slivers of pain down his back. He tried to lift his hands, but they could only come up about three inches and wouldn’t separate. They were tied together. He tilted his body one way then another, trying to feel the area surrounding him, but all he felt was the cold on his back.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” a voice said from the dark.

Gio’s heart pounded. He took a deep breath to calm himself. If he was going to make it out of here, he had to keep his cool and keep this man talking. “What’d you hit me with?” Gio said. “Feels like my head split open.”

“A sap. Just an old sap. Who knew they work so well?”

Gio took a breath. “Do you know who I am?”

“Oh, yes, I know exactly who you are, Special Agent Adami.”

Shit
, Gio thought. He knew Gio was FBI, and he didn’t care. “What am I doing here?”

“You are taking part in a glorious work, Agent Adami.”

“Call me Gio. What work?”

“You’re going to be transformed. Into something you can’t even fathom. Something that will live on in the hearts of the people long after both of us are dead: you’re going to be turned into perfection.” A light flashed on. It was so bright it blinded Gio, and he slammed his eyes shut and turned his head away.

Slowly, as his eyes adjusted, he opened them. He was on a metal table and his wrists were bound with plastic ties. The light focused on a radius of about three feet, and he could see linoleum underneath the table but nothing else.

“I have to say,” the voice from the darkness began, “that I was only interested in you at first. You have a beauty to you. A darkness in your eyes that my soul recognized as kin. I have a feeling you and I are not that different.”

Gio said nothing. He tugged his wrists apart, testing the strength of the ties. They were far too strong to break. His legs were bound as well, and he tested them. They were as strong and tight as the ones on his wrist.

“But I’m not as interested in you anymore,” the voice said.

“Why not?”

“Because I read about you. I read about the Blood Dahlia case, and I found the most interesting story about it.”

No
, Gio thought.

“You brought in a psychic to help you with that case. Tell me honestly, did she work? I mean, did she speak to the dead?”

“No. It was a scam. He was ratted out by his mother, and we made the stuff about a psychic up to protect her.”

He chuckled. “That is a panicked lie if I’ve ever heard one. Do you care for this psychic? I’m afraid I have plans for her.”

“She has nothing to do with you.”

“She has everything to do with me. She’s proof that there’s life after death. To speak with her, to probe her mind… it must be glorious.”

The shadow came into view.

“Leave her alone,” Gio said.

“Shh. You need your strength.”

Gio heard the clink of metal on metal and knew the man was laying out tools.

“Soon,” he said, “we’ll get to work.”