He’d been watching the hospital parking lot and the cab, expecting Kaitlin to emerge alone. He had another opportunity to take her, and he’d been so tempted to do just that. But the black SUV pulled up, and Detective John Adler stepped out and sent the cab away. He disappeared through the double doors.
Twenty minutes of waiting and the cop reappeared. This time he was escorting Kaitlin, who sat in a wheelchair pushed by a nurse. The detective was almost solicitous as he opened the passenger door and helped Kaitlin into her seat. Anyone else watching might think the detective was concerned about her.
Adler would be a fool to care for her. She was a chameleon. She wasn’t the poor victim. And though she was making a lot of noise about finding Gina, there was no fixing her betrayal.
He was careful to stay back several car lengths as he followed them, and he sped by as Kaitlin got out of the car. Her SUV was still in the lot, and Kaitlin was now locked inside her apartment and alone. But she couldn’t stay inside forever. Sooner or later, she would have to venture out.
A resident hustled up the stairs to the front door and punched in the security code on the keypad. Propping the door with a rock, the young woman hurried back to her car and grabbed what looked like a large framed picture. She set the picture inside and then removed the rock. The door closed.
It would be easy to slip past a resident with overloaded arms, but that would leave a witness. Better to wait until he could get Kaitlin alone.
INTERVIEW FILE #22
PERSONS OF INTEREST—DEREK BLACKSTONE AND BRAD CROWLEY
The former hell-raisers, Derek Blackstone and Brad Crowley, maintained a close friendship. They liked the clubs, the cigar rooms, and the ladies. As it so happened, they both had solid alibis the nights of Jennifer’s and Erika’s murders. And despite intensified focus, the cops could find no forensic or eyewitness evidence to link either man to the murders. But Detective John Adler would soon unearth their role in the Gina Mason case.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Thursday, March 22, 2018; 4:00 p.m.
Kaitlin slept the entire afternoon, and when she awoke the sunlight had dimmed across her apartment. Rolling on her side, she rose up on her right arm. Her head had cleared, and her gut didn’t ache as badly. She eased her bare feet to the floor and stood. She actually felt human.
Crossing the cold floor toward the kitchen, she opened the freezer, grabbed a frozen pizza, peeled off the packaging, and tossed it in the oven, which she turned on.
While the oven heated, she dug her phone out of her backpack, irritated to discover the battery was dead. Plugging it in, she waited as the device charged.
She removed her recorder and notepad on the Gina Mason case. She turned on her computer and began to dig through her emails.
She spent the next twenty minutes reading her students’ messages.
The smell of cheese, tomato, and garlic drew her attention from the screen. She grabbed a large plate, opened the oven door, and slid the pizza onto the dish. She sliced it into wedges and returned to the sofa.
After living on hospital food for several days, the pizza tasted wonderful. She picked up her phone and read through texts until she reached Steven Marcus’s name. She agreed to meet him on Saturday evening with Adler at a coffee shop near her apartment.
Scrolling through the phone, she found Erika’s last text. I’m ready to be interviewed, but it has to be today. Come to my house. Now before I lose my nerve.
Sitting back in her chair, she closed her eyes and imagined herself leaving her classroom and driving to Erika’s house.
She stepped into Erika’s home. The situation didn’t feel right. And then the rush of footsteps, the crack of pain to her head, and the softly spoken words.
“I am coming back for you. You deserve to be punished.”
She’d thought she’d dreamed the words, but realized her mind had been replaying a memory.
“I am coming back for you. You deserve to be punished.”
Adler and Logan pulled up in front of the small brick rancher set on an acre of land on the city’s south side a few minutes after four in the afternoon.
Logan rubbed his hand over his leg. “It feels good to be back in this car. Still smells like cheeseburgers and your damn aftershave, but it’s nice. Never thought I’d get anywhere close to a cop car again.”
“You’ll be back soon enough.”
Logan shook his head. “I could use a break. Today the hits keep coming.” Hands at his sides, he wiggled his fingers before fisting and unfisting them. “Suzanne called this morning. She’s filing for divorce.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“As much as I want to blame it on the injury, it’s been coming for some time. Being a cop’s wife is not what she bargained for.”
“Your ex and my ex could start their own club.”
A mirthless grin tugged at Logan’s lips. “I don’t even want to guess what they’d call it.”
Adler shook his head, knowing losing even a bad marriage was a punch in the gut. “Let’s focus on Steven Marcus. He’s not expecting us until Saturday. He told Kaitlin something about a deadline, but I don’t think it would hurt for us to talk to him for a few minutes now. I’m going to let you ask the questions. You know the Mason case better than me at this point.”
“I’m not an official cop.”
“You’re a homicide detective. You just happen to be on leave. Besides, we aren’t arresting Marcus. We’re just looking for background information.”
Logan shifted his gaze to the house and, grabbing his cane, opened the door. “Let’s do this.”
Adler came around the side of the car. Another cop might have hesitated to help Logan stand, but he had no reservations. They were a team, and he knew Logan would have done the same for him if the situation were reversed. He grabbed Logan by the arm and helped him to his feet.
“Thanks.” Logan righted himself and gripped his cane.
Adler let Logan go first up the sidewalk, and he slowed his pace. Logan leaned heavily on a wrought iron railing and climbed the three steps.
“Not bad,” Adler said.
“Give me a week and I’ll be doing backflips.” He rang the bell. “I called ahead, and he seemed happy to meet with us.”
“Good.”
The front door opened to a lean, midsize man with short-cropped hair. He sported glasses and wore a blue collared shirt and jeans. “Detective Logan?”
Logan shifted and tightened his grip on his cane. “That’s right. Thanks for seeing us.”
Adler leaned in, his hand extended. “I’m Detective Adler. I understand you’re the expert on the Gina Mason case.”
Marcus grinned. “I don’t know about that, but I spent a good deal of time on it. A case gets under your skin, and it’s hard to let go. You two must understand that.”
Logan’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “I hear you. Sorry to bother you. You must be pretty busy.”
“Nothing I can’t handle. Please, come in. I’m afraid the house is a bit of a mess. My wife is out of town, and I’m letting the place go to hell. Figured I’d do something about the mess right before she comes home.”
A half-dozen different newspapers were spread across a long worn couch set up in front of a wide-screen television that played a muted twenty-four-hour news station.
“I’m a bit of a news junkie,” Marcus said. “I can’t help but follow everything.” He scooped the newspapers off the couch and carried them into a nearby kitchen. “Can I get you two coffee?”
“No, thanks,” Logan said, leaning on his cane. “We don’t want to hold you up too long.”
Over a small fireplace were ten different awards Marcus had won a decade ago. “You left your job with the newspaper,” Adler said.
“Cutbacks,” Marcus said, returning to the room. “I wasn’t crazy about losing the steady paycheck, but I’m excited to do my own thing. I’ve already started a new website.” He motioned for them to both sit. Each took one of the easy chairs that faced the couch.