A Killer's Agenda (22 page)

waited while he entered and moments later he motioned for them to come in as well.

“Do you need me anymore, Lieutenant?” David asked, his gaze

nervously scanning the room. “I have to get back to the desk.”

“No, but do me a favor and make sure you keep the press

downstairs right now. I don’t need that headache as well.”

“Will do.”

Brad and Alex waited just inside the room while Lt. Clark drew on a pair of plastic gloves and methodically examined the small

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space, looking under the bed and even the mattress as well as every drawer.

“Looks like your instincts are correct, Miss Leahy.” He picked up a small plastic card on the dresser. “A fake ID complete with name and picture.” He eyed the ashtray overflowing with butts. “It appears he waited for the two of you for a while.” He walked over and flipped open the suitcase lying on the floor, carefully rifling through it. “Not much here. A couple of changes of clothing and the usual personal stuff.” His eyes found Alex’s. “Our man appears to have had everything planned. Room location, an alias and his target.” He flipped open another case and whistled softly, lifting out several dangerous looking pistols with what appeared to be a silencer. “And a pro to top it off from the look of these weapons.”

“Guess I was luckier than I thought,” Brad said, catching Alex’s eye. “We both were.”

Roy flicked open his cell. “Pete, get the crew up to Room 405.

It’s a good possibility we’ve found our victim’s abode.” He turned back to Brad and Alex. “Think the two of you could give me a little more time?”

Alex nodded. “As long as it’s on the way to the morgue.”

A hint of a frown appeared on his forehead. “You really think that’s necessary? We’ve got the man’s license and fingerprints. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find out who hired him, especially if it’s true his sister lives here.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Lieutenant.

You yourself said he was a professional.”

“All right, it sure can’t do any harm.” He smiled slightly. “I’m not one to believe in this clairvoyance stuff but there are those who do. Maybe I’ll become a convert.”

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“I’m not looking for converts, Lieutenant, just the truth.”

The hard lines on the man’s face softened as his lips curved slightly, his glance finding Brad’s. “She always this tough?”

Brad slipped an arm around Alex. “It appears so.”

A touch of approval flashed in the older man’s eyes. “Then let’s go.”

* * *

He finished his third scotch, draining the half-full glass with one swallow. Damn it! Where was the son of a bitch? He hit speed dial on his phone for about the tenth time, throwing it across the room when there was no answer. Something wasn’t right. The man might be a pain in the ass but he was a reliable pain in the ass.

Besides, he knew he wouldn’t get paid for the hits he had assured him were necessary unless he called him when it was finished. It was a routine they both felt comfortable with. He because he knew the job was done and his hired gun because it was the only way he got his money.

He wandered to the picture window, taking in the starlit night absently. It hadn’t been smart hiring Fowler for that first hit but he had been desperate. Only he hadn’t given the repercussions much thought. He had set himself up for blackmail and Matt Fowler had never let him forget it. His hand tightened around the empty glass he was still holding. It was inevitable he would have to deal with him at some point. He was a man who didn’t like loose ends and he had planned his life so very carefully. No one, no one, was going to mess things up now.

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He took a deep breath, willing himself to relax. He was worrying where there probably was no need. They had an understanding, he and Matt. The man didn’t have an ounce of decency in him but then again he didn’t hire him for his ethics.

He splashed another dash of scotch in his glass, catching sight of himself in the mirror pleased with the reflection. The carefully styled hair, the tanned skin and the designer suit all spoke of class and success. It was an image he worked very hard at maintaining.

He contemplated the view once again and then bent and

retrieved his phone. No point in spending the rest of the night alone. A few more drinks and some sex would do wonders in

allaying his fears, at least for the moment. After that… his fingers tightened on the phone again. After that, he would deal with whatever he needed to.

Suddenly the reflection in the mirror wasn’t so attractive and he frowned, noticing the faint lines around his mouth and eyes.

Age wasn’t something he intended to give in to, he thought,

punching the numbers viciously. He was single, rich and the

women swarmed around him. His ego wouldn’t allow them to

chase him for his money alone.

When a feminine voice answered on the other end, his

expression relaxed into the practiced smile but the eyes facing him in the mirror remained a cold, icy and flat blue.

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“He isn’t very pretty,” the coroner said bluntly. “Crushed skull, broken neck and various lacerations and scrapes, not to mention the bullet wound in his right shoulder.” He moved to the table, glancing at Roy Clark. “Death was due to the fall as you suspected.

The bastard didn’t suffer. Didn’t have time.”

He threw the sheet back and exposed his chest and head. Alex fought not to react. The face was grotesquely swollen on one side and there was blood still seeping from it. Yet, in spite of that, she could see the resemblance to Madeline. The same shape of eyes and hair color. Yet the mouth, even in death, with all the swelling and bruising was thin and mean.

“Big man, about two fifty. Has had his nose broken once or

twice. Has some nasty scars that look like old knife wounds as well.”

Alex moved toward the body, closing her eyes. As if on cue, all of them fell silent. A series of expressions flitted across her face, her slender body swaying just slightly. Brad moved toward her but stopped when she began to speak in a low, almost monotone voice.

“He hated his brother-in-law, Renee’s husband. She had

always been an easy mark for money until she married him. He resented the relationship the man had with his son. Actually hated Justin because of it. His own father kicked him out of the house

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after the third time he landed in jail.” She moved closer to the head of the table, eyes still firmly closed. “Justin’s death served two purposes. To cause his brother-in-law pain and to throw off the scent. The other boy’s death was…just for fun,” she finished, her voice, even with her eyes closed, hardening.

“What scent?” Roy asked.

She moved again placing a hand on the dead man’s arm

grimacing at the feel of death but remaining connected, pulling what she could from the aura surrounding his body.

“The other shootings were for hire. This was to protect himself.

Someone was getting close, asking questions. He wasn’t stupid and he liked his lifestyle, liked the attention women gave him when he flashed all that money. He knew how to set up the hits and he was good at it. Big money good at it. He was psychotic enough to be proud of his skill. It bothered him that someone had followed a path he had been sure he hadn’t left. It was time for a diversion.”

Her voice changed, grew thick with emotion. “He enjoyed killing those young men. Enjoyed the thrill and revenge factor.” She drew in a deep breath, her expression tightening with anger. “God, what a bastard!”

“Who paid him?” Brad asked grimly.

She frowned, concentrating and then her eyes snapped open

and she turned toward the three of them. “Russell Ferron.”

“Who?” Roy Clark asked.

“It’s a rather long story, lieutenant,” Brad said. “One we still don’t have all the pieces to. How about we discuss it somewhere else?”

Roy nodded. “Thanks, George. Keep him on ice until I figure

out what we’re going to do with him.”

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“No problem.” He flipped the sheet back over the body. “Still have some testing to do but the cause of death is pretty

straightforward. Oh, by the way,” he said, glancing at Roy Clark,

“I’ve got something Pete said to give to you when you came. Already dusted it for fingerprints. Nothing except for our dead man.” His lips curled as he walked toward his desk. “Was tempted to keep the thing for myself. Good chance I’ll never own something so fancy.”

He pulled open a drawer and reached in, lifting out a small

plastic bag handing it over.

Roy opened it and pulled out the ring it contained. “A little too gaudy for my taste but it’s a sure bet it’s worth a pretty penny.”

“Can I see that, Lieutenant?”

He nodded, dropping it into Alex’s palm. She lifted it up to the light and the diamonds glittered brilliantly. The visions began to gain clarity as she allowed them in. The ring being held by Anna Ferron as she sat waiting…those cruel lips smiling as he removed it from her lifeless fingers moments later. She took a deep breath, stilling the anger inside of her, and handed the ring back.

“It’s the same ring, isn’t it?” Brad said. “The one Anna Ferron had in her possession that day?”

She nodded. “It’ll be interesting to see if there is a record of an order for that particular ring at Steadman’s and who placed it. If it is one of Fowler’s aliases, then that would give us a connection however tenuous.”

“You sure it was this ring?” Roy asked, dropping it back in the plastic bag.

“Positive.”

“Then I’ll follow up on it. Let’s go.”

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Fifteen minutes later, they were at police headquarters. Roy brought both of them in some coffee and then settled across the table from them.

“Care if I record this?”

Alex glanced at Brad and then nodded.

For the next half hour he asked both of them specific

questions. When he finally switched off the tape, he sat there for a moment deep in thought. “Miss Leahy,” he began.

“Alex,” she interrupted impatiently.

“Alex, I think you’re on the right track. Problem is, what you’ve got so far is intangible. Not enough proof, yet, to even investigate the man. I intend to change that as we begin our case, but tying Fowler to this Russell Ferron is only the beginning. If what you believe is true, you still don’t have a connection to those other killings. In addition, there’s no clear motive for having his wife murdered.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, eyeing her steadily. “You didn’t want a convert but you’ve got one in me, Alex. My years of experience tell me that there is a hell of a lot more here. There’s got to be a tie in somewhere.”

Brad reached inside his wallet and handed him a card. “Alex

has an uncle who is chief of police in Charlotte by the name of Brian Delaney. He might be able to help with those missing pieces.

On top of that, here is my card with my cell and home phone on it.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t do any good to recommend the two of

you return home and let the police handle this?”

Brad lifted a hand to the bandage on his forehead and glanced at Alex. “No, it wouldn’t. Without proof, you’re dead in the water

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and I’ve got a feeling that we’re the ones who are going to have to provide that proof.”

Roy stood offering his hand to both of them. “I’ll keep in touch and I’d like you to do the same.” His gaze slid to Alex. “If this Russell Ferron is capable of hiring someone to commit a series of murders then don’t assume he won’t hire someone else. It’s

obvious he feels the two of you have information he doesn’t want made public. Finding out what that is might just go a long way to solving this whole thing.”

“Thanks for all your help, lieutenant,” Alex said sincerely.

“What there was of it,” he replied, shaking her hand firmly.

“Has someone contacted Renee White?”

“The sister?”

She nodded.

“I’ll do that personally.”

“I would appreciate you keeping my name out of the limelight if you can. It will only impede our investigation.”

“I’ll do my best but the local press has already been

bombarding us with calls. My suggestion is that you get out of town as quickly as you can.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Brad. “By the way, where is my car?”

“It’s in the impound lot. After our investigation, it’s going to need some repairs. If you authorize them, I’ll see to it.”

Brad nodded. “Then I guess we’ll have to rent something. Got any recommendations?”

“I’ve got some connections. Let me see what I can do.”

He drove them back to the hotel, escorting them passed the

various reporters and camera crew. Light bulbs flashed and

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questions were shot at them as they hurried to the elevator. As the doors slid shut, Alex leaned against the wall, grimacing. “So much for the story dying out.”

Roy shook his head. “Not in this town. Big news here.”

While Alex finished packing, Brad grabbed the phone book and flipped through the yellow pages. He scanned the rental agencies and then stopped, a thought occurring to him. He glanced over at Alex and then flipped his cell phone open and moved toward the hall.

“Do those connections you have also involve new car dealers?”

he murmured to Roy who was waiting outside the room.

“They do with this particular dealership,” Roy said, pointed to a large ad in the phone book. “Why?”

“Inside joke,” Brad said. “Should I ask for anyone?”

“Steve Clark.”

Brad raised a brow. “Relative?”

“Nephew.”

A few minutes later he hung up, satisfied. “Thanks, I owe you one.”

“Wish I could stick around to see the reaction,” Roy said, his lips curling in amusement as they moved back into the room.