Apex Predator (12 page)

Without looking up or slowing down, Grady answered around a mouthful of hash browns, “No, I’m cutting back. You know, trying that ‘more healthy’ lifestyle and all that crap. Hey, listen, I am assuming that you know who we’ve been talking to.”

The waitress came back with the coffee. Loomis waited until she left before he answered, “Yes, well, I’m not sure I have everyone, but I do have the ones that seem to be of interest.”

Grady looked up, “You got a guy named Donald Riche?” Loomis grinned, “Yes, he is one of the ones on our list. Why?”

Still eating, Grady went on, “So, Mark Mullins and I went to talk to the guy.”

Loomis waited, Grady just ate. Loomis leaned back; he knew the game.

Grady wasn’t just going to give him a rundown of their interview, he was going to wait until Loomis asked, “And how did that go?”

Now Grady did stop eating. “What do you know about Riche?”

Loomis thought about it. He had gone through the file several times, “Single, mid-30s, runner for a brokerage firm, no priors, not even a traffic ticket. He owns a van, rents a garage or storage space near the Brooklyn Bridge, and has never been married. Of all the people that we know of, he is one of four that come close to fitting the composite profile.”

Grady kept his eyes on Loomis. This was one of those moments where a look between two professionals communicated things that sometimes words were just not adequate for.

Grady started talking, and eating, “So we talked to the guy, perfectly normal. Had us over to his place and was willing to answer whatever we asked, until we got to talking about the van. He got nervous and defensive, and before we could even ask him about the warehouse he rents and why he rents it, he lawyered up.”

Grady looked up and stared directly into Loomis’s eyes. In that look he told Loomis that working within his world this was as far as he could take it with this guy for right now. Both men knew Grady could not come out and ask Steven for anything.

He had promised to keep him in the loop and he was doing exactly that, but he had also asked Steven to reciprocate and the look from Grady now told Loomis he intended to hold him to it.

Loomis listened and got the message, “You think it’s him, don’t you?”

Grady just looked at him, Loomis kept on, “You think it’s him and you have nothing to get a warrant for his apartment or for the van or for the warehouse.”

Grady went back to eating, “Detective Mullins and I are going to do whatever we can to take something to the DA and to a judge, but honestly, we’re going to get laughed out of the building. There isn’t a shred of physical evidence. The guy is squeaky clean, and you’re right, no history.

“I know you’ve been in front of fanatics and terrorists, but I don’t know if you’ve ever been in the presence of evil, in the presence of someone who has something different behind their eyes. But Loomis, off the record, I mean I’ll deny I ever said it kind of off the record, that’s this guy, that’s how he felt.

“I may be wrong, but I would rather be wrong and scratch this guy off the list than to waste a lot of time running in circles. I will tell you this, though, even if he isn’t the guy in this case, there’s something there, something...creepy, about the guy.”

Steven Loomis listened carefully. He understood exactly what Grady was saying, he had a strong gut feeling about this guy, and New York homicide detectives took that almost as seriously as physical evidence or an eyewitness.

The problem was that they could never move on their gut feelings, and Grady had just shared with him that it would take a significant amount of time for him and his task force to develop enough to dig deeper into this guy because he was limited by what his job allowed him to do,
his job
allowed him to do.

Steven looked intensely at Grady, who was in the middle of taking a bite of hash browns, and nodded almost imperceptibly.

He finished his cup of coffee, put it down on the table and went to say goodbye, “Thanks for the update. I’ve actually got to get going. I have to get to the office. I’ve been out for a while and there’s just a lot of stuff I have to catch up on.”

As he was getting ready to leave he grinned at Grady, “You should really try to mix in some fiber into the ‘healthy lifestyle crap’ thing.”

Grady went on eating his breakfast and looked up as Loomis was leaving. “Don’t mention it. And I did try that bran crap. It tasted like shit. A man has his limits.”

He kept his eyes on Loomis as he walked out of the restaurant. Yeah, the guy would use whatever resources he had to get as much as he could.

Grady kept eating his breakfast and kept thinking that the man definitely looked different. The look that Grady had seen in all parents, the look of desperation and helplessness, was not there. The grief was there, but it wasn’t there like it was for most parents who lost their children.

In Steven Loomis, Grady saw an intense and thoughtful look driven by the grief and by what felt like an intense and quiet anger just under it. It wasn’t something that was draining from him, it was something that was driving him and could potentially make him a wild card. Still, Grady knew he could count on him to get him more information on Riche, and in the end, the upside outweighed the downside.

Loomis had been reading through everything Carl had gotten on Donald Riche. His childhood, foster system, went to college and got a degree, never in trouble with the law, no meaningful relationships to speak of. He had worked at his current brokerage firm for three years, but he had worked a variety of jobs since he graduated from college.

One interesting thing Carl had been able to find was that Riche used his credit card to buy dry ice, machining equipment and supplies, and medical equipment and supplies for some time now.

What the hell could he want all of that for? Of all the people the police had on their short list, this guy matched the composite profile better than anybody.

Even without all of this, his conversation with Grady had told him everything he needed to know. This was the guy, though nothing Grady said could be construed by anybody as anything other than a casual conversation with the lead detective on the case sharing some information with one of the parents.

But Steven wasn’t just one of the parents and Grady wasn’t just trying to keep him in the loop. He was letting him know that under the rules the police had to follow and with what they had, it would be almost impossible to get anything of value on Riche anytime soon and he was letting Steven know where to use whatever resources he had.

Steven had gone to the field division earlier that day and requisitioned two groups. Everyone knew not to ask any questions. He had tasked one group with surveillance. Two teams of two operatives would rotate and would watch the guy 24/7. In a case like this, the subject was usually a lone operator, someone that had no financial motives and who took his time to enjoy what he was doing. He was also meticulous, so he wouldn’t leave things behind or engage in phone conversations.

The second group was tasked with looking into the warehouse the guy was renting and going through his apartment. It wasn’t going to be too hard to find out what the guy was up to without leaving a single trace that they had been at either place. Steven knew the trick would be how to get the information to Grady in such a way that it didn’t screw up the case against the guy, if there was a case there at all.

Will Talley and Ben Stewart were the best surveillance team the company had, and when they found out what this was about, they were the first to volunteer. The team that would rotate with them would be made up of whoever was available at that particular time.

All of them were experienced operators, ex-military, police and some international guys, including former MI6, SVR and Mossad agents.

Talley and Stewart had been on nighttime duty with the guy for two days now and had gotten absolutely nothing. The guy came home from work, went into his apartment and stayed there for the duration. The day shift guys hadn’t fared much better. He went to work, sometimes brought his lunch and sometimes went out with coworkers.

This guy was about as vanilla as they come, but still, there was something off about him. Like everything he did was a role in a movie and he had the starring role. It was nothing that anyone around him would notice, but these guys were professionals and they picked up on even the slightest deviations from what ‘normal’ should be.

Travis Pruitt and Victor Demers were also the best the company had at getting into and out of places without leaving a trace that they had been there at all.

Some of the stories about the places Travis had been able to get into and out of were still being debated. Stories of getting into vaults, elevators and Fort Knox-type security locations had been circulating around the company for some years. Most people thought it was just exaggeration, but the fact was that every one of the stories was true.

Pruitt and Demers had also been watching the guy to find out what exactly they were dealing with. Was it just the guy’s apartment and the warehouse he rented or were there other locations they needed to breach? The surveillance guys also briefed them on the guy’s routine, which was as predictable as they could possibly hope for.

In the end it was just his apartment and the warehouse. They had both agreed that they would hit the apartment first, which would be the easiest, and the surveillance team was already covering the warehouse.

Breaking into the apartment was truly like a walk in the park for Demers and Pruitt. They weren’t sure exactly what they were looking for, but they were clear on the situation and were looking for anything that they could use to confirm what almost everyone already thought, that if this wasn’t the guy they were looking for, he was definitely in the ballpark.

Like the two NYPD detectives before them, the first thing they noticed when they walked into Donald Riche’s apartment was just how incredibly clean it was. There was not a single object out of place, all of the decorations, the kitchen utensils, the furniture, everything was meticulously placed and organized.

They worked their way through the apartment, thoroughly examining any and all places where Riche could have hidden anything. They also used scanners and sensors to test the walls for potential hidden compartments.

They found nothing and left the same way they’d come. The warehouse was going to be the next place they hit.

They noticed the mail that had been arranged on a desk and took a picture. Before leaving, Demers went through it. As he was going through a number of utility bills, he came across a bill that caught his attention. It was from a pharmaceutical supply company and the name on the account was not Riche’s.

As expected, once the story broke all of New York was speculating on what could be going on. Along with that speculation came the same type of fear that New Yorkers could not help but associate with 9/11.

The police, the FBI, all other agencies really, didn’t have anything to go on. No one was safe. It was palpable. Mothers held their children closer if they went out with them at night at all.

Every news outlet had their own theory, their own sources and their own experts commenting about what could be happening to the girls in New York.

The NYPD was in overdrive and the task force had just gotten a big boost from the mayor, but none of it did anything to appease the public, which like in almost every case like this, did its own to create even more panic. It was fear feeding on fear, something not unique to New York, but the city had an extra element of hubris to how information was first disseminated and then grew.

By the time the sixth week the girls had been missing came around, there was no one in New York that didn’t know about the case. Everyone had a name for the case, ‘The Boogeyman’ or ‘The Vanishings’ and on and on. It was as though naming them made it easier to talk about.

The news led with it every evening. All kinds of crackpots were in chat rooms across the Internet either postulating on what was happening or taking responsibility for the disappearances. Twitter feeds and Facebook pages were dedicated to the case.

Only in New York could comparisons range from Jack the Ripper to organ black markets to Russian adoption rings to alien abductions. And like in almost every other high-profile serial disappearance or serial murder case, there was the usual number of psychic detectives offering their services, for a fee of course.

None of it went unnoticed, especially by one Donald Riche.

Robert Grady was sitting at his desk, which was now completely buried in papers and empty styrofoam coffee cups. Mullins came in without knocking.

Grady looked up, “Well?”

Mullins shook his head, “Nothing. Our most promising individuals all lawyered up, just like Riche. We have absolutely no probable cause that we could take to a judge to get a search warrant for their houses or for Riche’s warehouse.

“Riche’s lawyer already called to let us know he knows we don’t have shit and to make sure we don’t try to come up with some bullshit story to get a warrant. I don’t know where we go from here.”

Grady thought about it for a second, “We stay on them. Sooner or later that son of a bitch is going to get the urge and, lawyer or not, he’s going to slip up.”

Mullins responded, “You mean Riche?”

Grady stood up and, as it was usual for him when he was thinking, walked over to the window, “Yeah, Riche, goddamned Riche. I’m telling you he’s our guy. We’re just going to have to wait him out or hope that we get some information by some other means.” Grady gave Mullins a knowing look when he said that.

Mullins responded, “You mean Loomis, don’t you? You mean let’s see what we get from Steven Loomis.”

Grady once again said, “I just said we would wait him out until we get some information by some other means, whatever those means are I don’t care. Do you?”

Mullins shook his head emphatically, “Shit no, I told you before and I’ll tell you again, I’ll take it however we can get it.”

Grady smiled, “Which is why we always talk about information by some other means and not Steven Loomis, right?”