Conviction: Book 3 of the Detective Ryan Series (12 page)

Chapter 22-Ali

By morning I had read the reports twice, but was no closer to using them to my advantage. It was something I needed help with and thought of two people I trusted that could help me, but first I had to meet up with Rodney.

I pulled into the parking lot for the walkway and found Rodney in his workout clothes. “I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna show,” he called out as I opened the car door. I wasn’t wearing my normal workout clothes, which he noticed right away. “What gives, Ali? You’re not running today?”

“I didn’t have my clothes.” Before he could ask, I waved him off. “James and I got into an argument and I left last night; long story; don’t really wanna get into it.” I nodded to the car and held up two cups of coffee. “Come on; get in. We have a lot to talk about.”

Rodney jumped into the passenger seat of my car as I told him about my meeting with the D.A., the box of files Esposito gave me, and the multiple cases I was working that may be tied to his.

“You really think you can prove I didn’t do it?”

“I hope so, or else I’ll be forced to go out on a date with Mr. Personality himself.”

“And I’ll be going to prison.”

“Oh yeah, that too.” I smiled to let him know I was joking around. “I have an idea that I’ll need some help with. I figured I would ask a few guys at the station and maybe Fred.”

“What about James?”

“Don’t get me started on him.”

“What happened between you two last night?”

“He said I was pushing myself too hard and needed to take a break from the case before I burned out.”

“Sounds familiar,” Rodney said as he drummed a finger on his chin. I knew he was referencing the times Matthew used to tell me the same thing.

“Whatever,” I spat. “I didn’t wanna listen to him lecture me or threaten to go to Esposito if I didn’t listen like he did the other night.”

“So where’d you go?”

“Back to my old house. I figured no one would think to look for me there, which meant no one would bother me.”

“That was stupid and dangerous, Ali. You know there’s some psychopath out there with a hard on for you.”

“Thanks for the picturesque description.”

“You know what I mean. You’ve got a target on your back, and this guy is looking for a chance to take you out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. For now, I need to see if I could get a few people to help me figure a few things out.”

“So no run today?”

“Raincheck, partner. One quick question before I go. On the night of the shooting, did you see anyone in the room with you before you were attacked?”

“No. I had my back to the door and swept the room and behind the door. I turned to leave and that’s when I got hit.”

“Thanks, Rodney.”

“Hope it helps.”

“I think it will.”

After saying goodbye, I drove back to the precinct, hoping to catch a few guys that were about to start their shift or just ending one. I caught Reyes and Lombardo walking out of the station and decided to ask for their help, despite their drunken phone calls when I refused to speak to Rodney.

“Hey, you guys got some time to help me with something.”

“Why should we help you?” Lombardo snapped.

“Because I’m trying to help your friend get the charges dropped, unless you want to see him get carted off to prison.” There was something in Lombardo’s eyes I didn’t trust. He was colder than usual. The hostility in his voice made me want to punch him in the face, but Reyes’ voice interrupted that thought.

“Sorry, Ali, we’re heading out to look into a missing person’s case.” Lombardo swatted at Reyes’ arm. “What?”

“You want her stealing our case too?”

“Are you serious? She’s got enough on her plate. I don’t think she wants to add a missing person to her case load.”

“Look, Lombardo; I don’t know what your issue is with me, and frankly I really don’t care. I got more important shit to worry about.”

I stormed through the precinct doors, finding most of the station was empty. I saw the lieutenant sitting in his office. He glanced up at me and moved towards his door.

“Ryan, what are you doing here? And why aren’t you dressed for work?” Not wanting to explain what happened, I decided to change the subject.

“I need you to come with me. I have a theory about Matthew’s shooting. Hopefully in will clear Rodney of all charges.”

“How do you intend to prove that?”

“Rodney said he was attacked when he entered Amanda’s room, but didn’t see anyone in there.”

“And…”

“No one entered the house after us, which meant Matthew had to be there already. If he was in the room, Rodney would have seen him.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Either he was brought into the room after Rodney was attacked, or he was kept somewhere Rodney couldn’t see him.”

“That’s going to be hard to prove, Ali.”

“Not if we find a way to retrace the trajectory of the bullet and blood spatter. If I’m right, the patterns won’t match up.”

“And how do you suppose we figure this out? Neither of us are analysts or experts on bullet trajectory nor blood spatter.”

“No, but we both know people that do.”

“You can’t expect everyone to drop what they’re doing just to help you with one of your crazy ideas. People have work; I have work to do.”

I snatched the car keys off his desk. “So do I.”

“Hey, get back here. Give me my keys back” He chased me out to the parking lot as I walked closer to his car. “Don’t you dare touch my car.” I disregarded his command and inserted the key into the lock. “Ali, I’m warning you; touch my car and I’ll bust you down to school crossing guard.”

I knew he didn’t have the authority to demote me down that far, but wasn’t going to push my luck any further. “Then make the call, get whoever we need down here, and let’s get to the bottom of this case.”

“Fine, can you give me fifteen minutes to finish what I was doing and make the calls?”

“Sure, but I’m holding your car ransom.”

He walked away mumbling something in Spanish. My guess was it translated into something like “pain in my ass is going to be the death of me.”

About an hour later, the Lieutenant arrived at the house I rented, the site of Matthew’s death. We waited for our experts to arrive. We made sure to call in favors to the people we trusted the most. No one was happy to be there, but understood the severity of the situation. This was our best shot to clear Rodney’s name.

I went over the files and pictures the D.A. had provided with the team. I had them run through the findings and recreate the shooting. Then we tested out my theories along with my response time. My first theory didn’t hold up. The shooter couldn’t have brought Matthew inside the room shot him from a standing position, untied him and escaped in the time I ran from the living room to the bedroom.

My second theory held merit. I believed the shooter had Matthew tied up on the floor and moved him into position after knocking Rodney out. He fired the shot and cut the rope.

My final theory was far-fetched even for me. “What if the shooter knocked out Rodney and had Matthew tied up against the bed? He crouched down and fired a shot, making it look like Rodney was falling.”

“He would still need to get the bindings off before you got in the room. And what about the blood spatter?”

“I have my theories on both of those, but need more evidence to support them. For now, can we run an analysis on the bullet trajectories to see where Matthew stood when he was shot?”

“We could run some tests and get back to you in a day or two,” one of the men said. It would have to do for the time being.

“Thanks guys, I appreciate it.”

I watched as they collected the rest of their data and vacated the house. I took a seat on Amanda’s bed looking at the areas I found Rodney and Matthew in. There was something about that night that still felt off. There was something I was missing, and I didn’t want to leave until I figured it out.

A hand closed on my shoulder. I looked up and found Lieutenant Esposito standing next to me. “Go home, Ali. Get some sleep. Hopefully tomorrow we’ll have some answers.”

Home…that had become a foreign concept to me. My house was empty and still waiting to be sold. The house I rented was tainted with memories of the worst day of my life. And James’ house had a feeling of someone watching me at all times. Maybe it was time to find a new home.

Chapter 23-PM

The Puppet Master pulled into the parking spot directly behind his latest fixation. She caught his eye weeks ago, with her toned, tanned legs, her outfits that left little to the imagination, and a body that he couldn’t wait to claim. As much as he wanted her to be another name on his list, she needed to wait. The plan had to come first, and she would have her turn to be another name on his list.

His eyes locked onto her stilettos as they touched the pavement. Her skirt fell just above her knees as she smoothed down the fabric. As her head shifted, the Puppet Master bent over the center console, pretending to look for something in the passenger seat.

Slowly counting to ten, he returned to the sitting position to find the woman strutting towards the courthouse. His session wasn’t due for another few hours, but he felt the pull to watch his obsession in action.

He kept his distance from her on the security line, but his eye never wavered from her. He watched every move she made, and which courtroom she was in. Slipping in moments later, he took a seat in the back, watching as she took a seat in the front. Leaning forward, he could see her conversing with another man. Seeing the man dress in khaki pants, black sneakers, and a polo screamed client.

The conversation appeared one sided, as the attorney gave her client her typical spiel. His eyes were focused on her chest and the cleavage that was bursting to pop out of her low cut top.

“All rise!” the bailiff shouted. A sea of people stood as the judge entered the courtroom. As they sat, the bailiff called the first case.

The attorney stepped forward, buttoning her blazer as her client followed her through the swinging door. She pointed to the table, ordering her client to sit down.

“Your honor, my name is Rebecca Reynolds, and am representing Mr. Young in this case.”

The Puppet Master smiled as he lounged back in his seat. His eyes locked on his target as she conversed with the judge. She pleaded the defense’s case, but ignored the prosecution. A deal had been put in place for the defendant to plead guilty to a D.W.I. Her client stood and looked at Rebecca. His eyes lowered to her cleavage and back up to her eyes. She nodded her head and turned to face the judge. Her client accepted the deal, ending up with a year of probation and sixty hours of community service. The judge banged the gavel, concluding their case. Rebecca escorted her client away to discuss what would happen next.

Once Rebecca Reynolds strutted out of the courtroom, the Puppet Master decided to slip out and follow her. He listened for the clicks of her heels, noticing they stopped. Her eyes darted around the corridor, falling briefly on the Puppet Master. He smiled as he walked by, seeing her phone clutched in her hands. She dropped her head to check her message.

It was hard for the Puppet Master to linger in the hall. If Rebecca saw him again, it would look suspicious. Bending down, he untied his shoes and took his time re-tying them. He looked up to find an empty spot where Rebecca had been standing.

Can’t get away from me that easily.

Knowing there were limited options to sneak off to, the Puppet Master walked towards the front of the building. Staring out the windows, he could see the blond hurrying through the parking lot. Her head twisting from left to right and over her shoulder.

He took a step out the door and casually walked to his car, keeping his eyes focused on Rebecca. Something had her spooked, something that had her running for her life. He knew she saw him in the courthouse, but figured there was no way she figured out who he truly was.

Waiting until she pulled out of her parking spot, the Puppet Master jumped inside his car and followed his obsession. At first he thought Rebecca’s destination was to her office, but they weren’t heading in the right direction. His second thought was Claire. He had called in a favor with a friend to leave another note for her to find. He was all set to make the turn towards the prison, but saw Rebecca’s car continue down the road.

“Where are you going?”

His answer came a half mile down the road. Rebecca pulled into a parking lot, one that was empty except for one other car. Slamming his fist against the steering wheel, the Puppet Master drove past the parking lot and turned the corner. Paranoia seeped into his mind, wondering who Rebecca was meeting and why.

He sped up to cut across the lanes to make the next left turn signal. Making a U-turn, he drove back in time to see a short haired woman exiting her car.

“Son of a bitch,” he shouted while speeding back to the courthouse. “You think you can cut a deal with A.D.A. without me finding out.” He raced back to the courthouse to make it in time for his session.

Pulling into the parking lot, the Puppet Master took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself before entering the building. His eyes glanced up into the rear-view mirror and smiled.
Looks like I get to have my fun with her sooner than I expected.

It had been hours since the Puppet Master left the courthouse. The work day was over, and had faded into the recesses of his mind, becoming nothing more than a distant memory. With the night sky creeping in, the Puppet Master was ready to stalk his prey. His car sat across the street. His eyes were intently focused on the house, waiting for its owner to come home.

It wasn’t his first time at the house. He had driven past around the block several times throughout the week. There were only two times he exited his car to search around for a spare key, making his task of breaking in much easier.

Headlights lit up the street as Rebecca’s crawled down the block. The Puppet Master curled up on the backseat of his car as she passed, ensuring he was not seen. Timing her arrival, he counted the seconds until she pulled into the driveway. Peaking over the bottom of the rear, driver’s side window, he watched as Rebecca Reynolds cautiously scanned the block before entering her house.

Her nightly routine never wavered in the four nights he watched the house. She would come home, turn on all the lights in the house before pouring herself some wine. She would drink a glass with whatever takeout she picked up and set another on the table when she was done.

The second glass was devoted to watching T.V. It became her companion in the otherwise lonely house. Without either of her friends, the Puppet Master watched Rebecca become a homebody, reluctant to step foot outside of her home for anything other than work. Fear from Sheila’s death weighed heavily on her decisions, he could see it in her eyes. It was the one thing that made his task harder to complete.

With the third glass of wine, she left it out while slinking off to the bathroom for a hot shower. This was the moment he waited for. It was his chance to do a dry-run, and he wanted it to go off without a hitch.

He waited until Rebecca poured the third glass and left it on the table. He knew there was a three minute window before she jumped in the shower. Using the spare key he found earlier in the week, the Puppet Master quietly opened the front door. He walked around the house, admiring the furnishings and the flat screen hanging on the wall.

Finding the wine glass on the counter, he dripped three drops from a vial he collected from a man Claire Cain killed. Before the police tore apart the house, the Puppet Master managed to steal a vial of clear liquid Blake Ambrose used to sedate women before having his way with them. It seemed fitting to use it as his tester for the night.

Rebecca didn’t take long showers, but the Puppet Master needed to check for hiding places and creaking floor boards. There were none that would give him away. Unfortunately, there were few hiding places that his victim wouldn’t use or think to check. The bed, the closets, and the doors were out of the question. But time was running out, and he needed a place to hide.

Deciding the bedroom closet was the best option, he opened the door and snuck inside. He dressed in all black and hid in the corner, letting a long black gown shield him from being seen. He could hear the water turning off. It was time to see if his plan would work.

The bathroom door opened, as bare feet slapped against the laminate floor. They steered into the bedroom, but didn’t go near the closet. The Puppet Master heard the dresser drawers open and close seconds later. The feet exited the room and slapped against the floor to the living room.

There was no way for him to know if Rebecca was drinking the wine, or how long it would take for the drugs to kick in. He was stuck in the confines of a walk-in closet, praying the woman in the living room would pass out before she found him.

An hour passed before he heard any sign of the drug taking effect. He could hear the wine glass tipping over on the counter while attempting to pour another.

Time to play
. The Puppet Master pushed open the closet door, keeping a mask over his face. He walked down the hall, finding Rebecca holding onto the counter as she held the wine bottle firmly in her right hand. He snuck up behind her and ripped the bottle from her hands. She spun into his arms, staring at the intruder.

There was nothing in her eyes, nothing that registered her understanding of the situation. The mask did nothing to place additional fear inside her mind. It was almost as if her brain was shutting down any thoughts at all.

His right hand crawled up under Rebecca’s shirt, palming her breast to see if she would fight him. But there was no response.

“We’re going to have a good time tonight,” he whispered in her ear as he scooped up Rebecca’s limp body.