“Hopefully they can pull some metadata off the DVDs that can tell us where they were made, shut them down. Vail returned the disc to its holder and pulled out her radio, told Hurdle what they had found.
“I’d like to get some agents in the Cleveland FBI field office over to the house where these homeowners are staying. Break the news to them about their property and unwelcome guest. Leave out the part about him shooting up their place. But we need to cover all the bases and ask if the husband had a secret collection of child porn. And if he’s gay.”
Hurdle snickered. “That’s gonna be a fun conversation.”
“Got a better idea. Have them arrange for a Skype session when they get there. I want to see their reaction. No—I want to interview the husband, away from the wife. If this is his shit, he won’t admit it in front of her.”
“Will he admit it even in private? It’s a federal offense.”
“I’m not expecting a verbal admission. That’s why I want to Skype. I need to see his reaction.”
“I’ll have someone arrange it. Over.”
Vail continued looking through the collection. “Assuming this stuff belonged to Gaines, I can see why the asshole ran. Might have nothing to do with Marcks. You got anything over there?”
“Male porn. Bondage stuff. Nothing like what you found.” Curtis tossed a stack of magazines to the ground. “Like you said, maybe this is just noise.”
“If we catch Gaines, this isn’t noise, Curtis. It’s leverage.”
35
Marcks sat in his ’64 Buick, windows closed and the Nats hat pulled down low over his forehead. With the sunglasses and beard, he hardly looked like himself. Which was the point, of course.
Once the car he had been following turned into the Lake Ridge neighborhood, he knew where Vail and company were headed. It allowed him to drop back and keep a discreet distance.
Unfortunately, because he no longer had a cell phone, he could not warn Booker and Scott who was on the way to their place. So he did the next best thing.
Blaring his horn from over a block away would be heard—but he could not be seen because of the trees and the curved angle of the streets.
There was no way for him to know for sure, but he was reasonably certain that they had gotten the message. He moved farther down the road and parked on a side street while waiting for Vail to leave—assuming his buddies did not kill her.
But when the SWAT truck rumbled past him, his shoulder muscles tensed and his level of apprehension clicked up several notches.
Almost four hours later, Vail and a couple of other cops drove by, headed away from Booker’s house. Though he wanted to double-back and check on his friends—were they in body bags or had they gotten away?—he started up the Buick and followed Vail’s vehicle, keeping as far back as he could without losing her.
Thus far, she seemed to have no idea she was being shadowed … which was exactly what he hoped.
IT WAS NEARLY 8:00 PM when Vail pulled into the driveway of a residential neighborhood. Marcks coasted down the street, several car lengths behind her, and came to a stop against a curb. Idling, observing.
He killed the engine and sat there, wondering what his next move would be … what it should be.
One thing was certain, however: he was building his book of intelligence, and now he had a key piece of information, one with potential leverage: he knew where Karen Vail lived.
36
Robby slid into bed beside Vail and touched her foot with his.
She jumped. “Oh my god, that’s cold.”
“Sorry. I’m freezing. Warm me up.”
The down comforter had trapped her body heat and banished her own chill ten minutes ago. Now toasty warm, she cuddled up to him and wrapped her arms around him.
They slept without interruption until a noise startled Vail. She sat up, the cool bedroom air snapping her mind to attention. Or the most attention it could muster at 3:00 AM.
She put a hand on Robby’s shoulder and shook him. “Hey, honey. Wake up.”
He groaned. “Tell me it’s not morning.”
“Yeah, it’s morning. Three in the morning.”
He rolled over and faced her. “What’s wrong?”
“I heard something.” She reached over to her night table and unholstered her Glock, then threw the covers back and stepped onto the cold wood floor.
Robby swung his legs over the side of the bed and likewise grabbed his handgun. In a low voice: “What did you hear?”
“Not sure, but it woke me.”
“Maybe you were dreaming.”
And then she heard it again: a thump. She glanced at Robby: he nodded.
They advanced toward the bedroom door.
“Where was it?” he whispered.
Good question. “Kind of sounded like it was behind the house or—”
“In front of it.”
Vail nodded. “Which doesn’t make sense. How could it be in both places?”
They walked down the hallway, lights off, their eyes acclimated to darkness and wanting to keep it that way. The second they turned on a lamp, their night vision would be shot.
Another thump. Vail stopped.
“Could it be your aunt?”