Spiraled (Callahan & McLane Book 3) (14 page)

19

It felt as if he’d had an hour of sleep.

And that hour had been patched together from brief periods of dozing with the bedroom light on and Ava tossing in bed beside him.

After a dose of a prescription antianxiety medication she had on hand, Ava had finally crashed. He’d had to threaten her to get her to take it. “You don’t have to be anywhere in the morning,” he’d told her. “It doesn’t matter if you sleep in or are groggy most of the day. But I need sleep and I can’t sleep until you do.”

The stress of the shooting had finally caught up with her. Combined with her disturbing phone call from Jayne earlier in the day, it’d made for a night from hell. First Ava had paced around the bedroom, complaining that she wasn’t tired. He’d suggested a glass of wine, and she’d agreed, but then barely drunk it. She’d set down the glass and moved away, forgetting that it existed. She looked stressed, with smudged half circles darkening the skin below her eyes, and she kept losing track of their conversation.

Mason knew the signs of mental and emotional exhaustion. But Ava had kept moving. She’d run two loads of laundry and dug around in the kitchen boxes. Reorganizing, she’d said. Physically she was running on nervous energy, but her brain had shifted to pause, protecting itself. “I can’t think straight,” she’d said. “My thoughts keep skittering about in my head as if everything is covered in ice. I can’t get purchase to focus on one thing—everything keeps pushing the other thoughts out of the way. Important facts from the shootings that I feel like I need to remember and follow up on. Then I start thinking about what Jayne said to me and everything spins away again.”

“There’re plenty of sharp brains working on these murders,” he’d told her. “We’ll cover everything. It’s not on you to solve these cases.”

“I know, but—”

“You’ve forgotten you’re not assigned to work on them. You’re a witness. That’s it,” he’d said sharply.

The look she’d given him could have frozen fire.

At midnight he’d bargained her into bed, promising a foot and back rub.

It’d taken over an hour, but she’d finally fallen asleep. Only to jolt awake later, scrambling out of the bed.

It’d scared the crap out of him.

He’d seen the vein pounding in her neck and her dilated pupils. “The shooter?” he’d asked. She’d nodded, unable to speak and her gaze wide and blank. He’d pulled her back to bed, held her close, and stroked her back until she drifted off to sleep again. After two more identical heart-stopping episodes, she’d taken the medication.

Her appointment with the counselor today couldn’t come fast enough.

This morning Mason had awakened to a six
A.M.
call. The Troutdale shooter had been identified overnight and they wanted his presence at the shooter’s apartment ASAP. He’d plugged the address into his GPS and hit the Starbucks drive-through after kissing Ava good-bye. She’d been half-asleep in their bed. He’d written her a note and taped it to the bathroom mirror, uncertain if she’d have any memory of his leaving.

The name of the Troutdale shooter was AJ Weiss. Weiss had lived in an apartment basement in his parents’ home in Gresham, a city that bordered Portland to the east. And an easy jaunt to Troutdale.

Mason parked on the street and spotted Ray talking on his phone as he leaned against his car, waiting for Mason. Two patrol units were parked in front of the house and one officer stepped out of his car as Mason walked across the street toward the home. No evidence team yet.

Mason identified himself and showed the officer his badge. He glanced at the other patrol car. “Expecting trouble?”

“They’re going to release the name of the shooter soon, but I think they’re trying to wait until the morning news shows are over to give the family some time to take this in. Who knows what kind of nuts that’s going to draw out of the woods,” the officer replied. “The parents seem like nice people. Hope it doesn’t turn ugly here.”

“Make the media keep their distance,” said Mason. Ray wrapped up his phone call and joined him.

“That was the medical examiner,” said Ray.

The two men headed up the long walkway to the older home. It was a ranch-style home on a raised lot with huge oak trees in the front yard that made Mason cringe to think about the leaf maintenance. A low white iron fence separated the front patio from the yard. Rust spots dotted its joints. Mason lifted the latch. The screech of the hinges made him shudder.

“Argh,” said Ray, jerking his shoulders. “
Now
I’m awake.”

“What’d Dr. Rutledge say?” Mason asked.

“The identification came in last night. A girlfriend who was convinced it was AJ Weiss called it in and then went to the examiner’s in person this morning to visually make the ID.”

“Why didn’t the parents do it?”

“The girlfriend told Dr. Rutledge she didn’t want to disturb them unless she was positive. She says the mother has a heart condition.”

“But they know now?”

“Yes, the girlfriend and an officer informed them about an hour ago.”

“Shit. They just found out?” Mason looked at the faded silk flower wreath on the door. It had a small wooden heart in the center that said
W
ELCOME
. He took a breath and knocked on the door. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Don’t think so. Rutledge did the autopsy late yesterday. Healthy twenty-six-year-old.”

A young woman with swollen red eyes opened the door and warily studied them. The men held out their identification as Mason made introductions.

“I’m Kari. I was dating AJ,” she said softly. Mason wanted to lean forward to hear her. She was tiny and slight, with long straight dark hair and dark eyes. “His parents aren’t handling this well.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t know if this is the best time to talk to them.” She hadn’t opened the door more than a foot.

“We understand,” said Ray. “But we need answers as quickly as possible—”

“Why? He’s dead. It’s not like you’re trying to track down a suspect.” Her eyes narrowed at them, reminding Mason of a protective mama cat. “You have all the time in the world to talk to his parents. Let them mourn first.”

“Kari,” said Mason, wondering how much to reveal to her. “I know this incident feels like it’s over to you, but it’s not. Yes, AJ is gone, but we need to find out why this happened. We don’t want it to happen again.”

The young woman looked from Mason to Ray. “What are you saying?”

“We’d like to look through AJ’s apartment and see if there’s anything that he’s left behind that will clear up this picture for us.” Mason frowned. “Has anyone else been in there?”

Kari visibly stiffened. “I went in yesterday. We were supposed to meet yesterday afternoon, but he never answered my texts, so I stopped by and let myself in. His parents said they hadn’t heard from him. I called and texted him several times. Then I started thinking about the shooting on the news.”

“Can we come in, Kari? We need to hear what steps you took to figure it out and to talk about AJ.” Mason held her gaze. “I bet you knew him better than his parents.” He held his breath. She didn’t have to talk to them. Neither did the parents, but things were much easier when people simply wanted to help.

She looked over her shoulder again and then back at the detectives. “Just a minute. Let me talk to Pauline.” She closed the door.

Mason and Ray took two steps away from the door. “She better not slow this down,” said Ray.

“I think she’s just overprotective,” said Mason, hoping it was true. “Even the uniform mentioned that the parents were nice people. They must trigger something that makes everyone want to shield them.”

Kari stepped out of the house and closed the door behind her. “Pauline is resting. Roy says he’ll have her ready to talk in about thirty minutes and that you’re welcome to look through AJ’s apartment until then. But he asked that you don’t remove anything without him knowing. It’s this way.” She gestured to the men and pushed open the screeching gate, ignoring its scream. The detectives followed her back to the sidewalk, where she turned into the driveway and then headed down a narrow walkway alongside the house. She stopped at the lone side entrance on the lower level and opened the ancient aluminum screen door. She slipped a key in the doorknob and pushed the door open. She stood back, holding the screen, allowing the detectives to enter first.

Mason removed his hat and stepped inside. The ceilings were low. Claustrophobically low. He didn’t turn on the light switch. Plenty of light was coming in from the kitchen windows that faced east. The apartment was tiny. One bedroom, one bathroom, and a micro-kitchen.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing gloves and foot thingies?” Kari asked, standing outside the open door.

“It’s not a crime scene, right?” said Ray. “Does AJ invite a lot of people over?”

She snorted. “No. More than two people in there and it feels too crowded.”

Mason agreed. “Let’s sit and talk for a few minutes,” he suggested. Kari studied him, and he believed she was about to refuse, but she shrugged and entered.

The three of them sat around AJ’s glass-and-brass dining table. “We’ll put on some gloves before we look around,” Mason said, noticing Kari hadn’t stopped frowning as she watched their hands. “We don’t have a lot of information about AJ yet. Why don’t you tell us how long you’ve known him and what kind of person he was?” Kari looked surprised by the open-ended request. Mason could tell she was a very cautious girl, and distrust continued to radiate from her. His friendly attitude hadn’t won her over.

“We’ve been dating for about a year and a half. He’s a good guy, and I’m in shock that he’d do something like this. If I hadn’t gone to the morgue to see him myself, I’d never believe it.” She clamped her lips together, holding back her tears.

“What made you think that it could be AJ?” Ray asked. “You said you started thinking about the news broadcasts. It was enough to make you reach out to the medical examiner’s office, right?”

“AJ’s very reliable. Always. I knew something major must have happened to make him vanish and not return texts or calls. Especially with his mother so ill. He’s not like that.”

Mason tilted his head. “But to think he could have shot several people? That’s pretty extreme.”

“I didn’t look at it that way,” she said earnestly. “What I couldn’t get out of my head was that an unidentified young man was also dead. The initial description fit. My mind wasn’t going to rest until I asked.” She looked from Mason to Ray, sincerity on her face.

“Okay,” said Mason. “Then why do you think he did it?”

She slumped in her chair, her gaze going to the floor. “I have no idea. He’d been looking for a job for a while, but things weren’t that bad. He gets free rent and didn’t have any debt.”

That you know of.
Mason made a mental note to double-check the Weiss financial situation.

“His parents and I have been asking each other why since we found out. None of us has an answer.”

“What kind of job was he looking for?” asked Ray.

“Marketing. It’s competitive right now.”

“He couldn’t find anything?” Ray asked. “Was he holding out for something in his field or would he be willing to make coffee for a while?”

“We’ve both stood behind a coffee bar,” Kari answered. “We don’t mind doing whatever it takes when bills need to be paid. He also studied drama in college and falls back on that when he needs to. Last week he went shopping for the outfit he needed for an acting gig.”

“He had to buy his own costume?” Mason asked.
Sounds like a scam.

“No, he was given an allowance. It paid well. Some years he made more money through small acting gigs than
real jobs
.” She made air quotes with her fingers. “My point is that he’s not the type to sit around and wait for a job to land in his lap. He was looking.” Her voice rose. “He was
responsible
. This wasn’t something he would do!” She buried her face in her hands. “I don’t understand why he did this. Nothing makes sense!”

Mason sat silently as Ray moved next to the girl and patted her on the back. “We’ll figure out what happened. There’s some sort of explanation.”

Kari raised her head and sniffed as she wiped at her wet nose with the back of her hand. “It’s not like him. He was so sweet and funny and knew how to make everyone laugh. He’s not a killer.”

“Not upset with anyone or angry about anything?” Ray asked.

Kari shook her head. “He was too easygoing. He liked to please people and never got upset with anyone.”

“No guns?”

“I don’t think he’s ever touched one in his life.”

Mason stood. “Mind if we take a look around now?”

She waved a hand toward the back of the apartment, resentment shadowing her eyes. Beside Ray, Mason poked through AJ’s drawers and closet, but Kari’s bitter eyes kept flashing through his brain. Their search yielded nothing of interest. No weapons, no drugs, no suicide notes.

One more mystery shooter.

20

A shudder shot through Ava as she stared at the pavement where Misty had been shot.

No trace of blood. Someone had scrubbed away every speck.

She squatted down next to the sunglasses kiosk to get a closer look at a dark spot.
Is that blood?
She blinked and the spot faded. She stood, shaking her head. What would be the point of finding some blood? She knew what’d happened here; she didn’t need to find proof.

“Ava!”

She turned at Zander’s voice. The agent had agreed to meet her at the mall for another look. Yesterday had been the first day it’d opened for business, and she wondered how the sales had been. Would people avoid shopping here now?

She hoped not.

Zander approached her and glanced at the ground. “What are you doing?” Worry crossed his face.

“Just looking. Not sure why.”

“Uh-huh.” He studied her face.

“Don’t worry, I’m good.” She looked away at the entrance to the men’s restroom. It seemed much farther away than it had the day of the shooting. “Feels like this happened weeks ago.”

“Three days. When’s your first appointment with the therapist?”

She gave him a wry look. “Did Mason sic you on me? It’s this afternoon. I won’t forget.”

“He may have mentioned it.” Zander looked away, and Ava wondered how much Mason had told him. Did Zander know about the nightmares?

“I just want to sleep better,” she admitted.

His raised eyebrow told her he knew she was downplaying the situation.

“A lot better.” She started toward the men’s room. The mall didn’t officially open for another two hours and it felt eerily similar to the morning of the shooting—mostly deserted. A few walkers strolled by, but Ava noticed they looked carefully at her and Zander, studying them for any threat; the opposite of the usual casual mood of the exercisers. She passed the area where the police contact team had made its stand. “I hated seeing Walter have to get down on his knees for the team. I knew how much it was hurting his joints,” she commented. “And the fear on the face of the father who was carrying his son—what was his name?”

“Steve Jordan,” Zander promptly replied.

“I never heard the third guy’s name,” Ava mentioned, recalling the last stranger who’d offered to help her and Misty.

“He hasn’t come forward,” Zander said. “When he reached the perimeter, he didn’t tell anyone that he was a witness. He was simply searched and released. I guess he didn’t want to be involved.”

Ava frowned. “Most people are willing to help. He was very concerned for Misty and me. I’m surprised.”

“Maybe he has a reason for staying out of the spotlight. He could be an ex-con or he owes child support.”

An ex-con?
Ava froze as Zander’s words echoed in her head and she tried to recall the third man. Shorts. Cap. T-shirt. A tiny burst of an idea poked at her brain, and she held her breath, terrified she’d lose it.
What if
. . .
?

“Let’s get this over with.” She strode toward the door.
What if someone wanted to stay under the radar and make us see
 . . .

Before she reached it, the door opened, and a janitor pushed out a garbage can on wheels while pulling a mop and bucket behind him.

“Good morning,” said Zander, showing his ID. The janitor stopped and looked them up and down.

“Still investigating?” The young janitor spoke with a Mexican accent.

“Yes, notice anything new?” Zander asked.

The young man shook his head. “No, but your cleanup crew sucked. They did a lousy job getting the blood out of the floor—but I got it all.”

“Ah
. . .
thank you,” said Zander.

“Is there a ladder somewhere that we could borrow?” Ava asked. She ignored Zander’s questioning look.
Make us see what we want to see
 . . .

The janitor shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got one over there.” He nodded to a nearby door with a placard that read
E
MPLOYEES
O
NLY
.

“Thanks. Anyone in the men’s room?”

“No.”

Ava pulled open the door and stepped into the brightly lit bathroom.

“What do you want a ladder for?” Zander asked as he followed.

“A hunch.”

The men’s room looked like all the photos she’d studied at the command center. Except clean. Blood no longer covered the floor and stalls. “Walter Borrego said the shooter kept walking back and forth between the two sides of the restroom.” She walked around to the back half of the restroom: a duplicate of the front half where the shooter had shot himself. Same layout of stalls, urinals, and sinks.

“Right. He’d told someone to get on the floor back here. Our third witness who has vanished.”

Ava nodded. “I assume all the trash was collected by the techs.”

“Yes. There were only a few paper towels. The restrooms had been already cleaned for the day and been barely used.”

If there’s no place down low
. . .
She looked up at the ceiling. It was the standard drop ceiling she’d expected. A network of white metal frames and lightweight panels resting on the frames. Zander caught his breath.

“Surely they looked in the ceiling,” he said.

“I don’t recall seeing it in any reports, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t done.” A low buzz had started in her brain as she looked at the ceiling.
I could be on a wild-goose chase but that third man
 . . .

The door to the bathroom flew open and the janitor came in with a six-foot stepladder. Zander took off his sport coat and hung it on a hook on the wall in one of the stalls. He took the ladder from the janitor and looked at Ava. “Where to start?”

“There wasn’t a ladder in here so he would have stood on a toilet or the sink.”

Zander nodded and set the ladder up to sprawl over a toilet in the first stall. He started to climb.

Itching to look, Ava eyed the sinks. Would one hold her? She leaned her weight on her hands on one edge and bounced. Seemed solid. She was about to try when an image of it ripping out of the wall as she stood on top stopped her.
Have some patience.
She turned around and watched as Zander pushed up on a ceiling panel with his fingertips. He moved it up and to one side inside the open space above the false ceiling. He stepped higher on the ladder and stuck his head inside.

“It’s too dark. I have a flashlight in my car.”

“Here,” said the janitor. He’d been silently watching and moved forward to hand a flashlight to Zander.

Zander thanked him and shone the flashlight into the space above the panels.

“Well?” Ava asked.

Zander carefully rotated on a step on the ladder, invisible from his shoulders up. He was facing in the direction of the sinks when he stopped turning. “I think there’s something in the far corner. It’d be above the sinks.”

“I knew it,” Ava exclaimed. Not patient enough to wait for the ladder, she climbed on top of the last sink, her worry about its holding her weight gone.
It obviously held someone heavier than me
.
She balanced her feet on the sides and slowly stood, looking above her head. She pushed up on the farthest panel, copying Zander’s movements. The panel seemed heavy. She pushed harder and one side shot up while the other tipped down and dropped through the metal frame, dumping clothing onto the floor as the white panel crashed beside them. “Aha!” She jumped down.

Zander grabbed her shoulder before she could touch the black clothing, thrusting vinyl gloves into her hands.
Dammit
.
She yanked them on, her hands swimming in the huge gloves, and lifted a black Nike jacket from the floor. Thrills shot up her spine and she grinned at Zander, who smiled back, his eyes dancing. “Nice job, Special Agent On Vacation.”

She picked up the black athletic pants. “Our shooter changed out of these clothes, shot Justin Yoder who had been hiding in this part of the bathroom—already wearing the same outfit—and ran out, posing as a victim, and left Justin to accept the blame. He strolled right out of the mall—after stopping to talk to me and Misty—and no one blinked.”

“We’ll have him on camera,” said Zander. “
And you’ve seen his face!
You could recognize him.”

Ava caught her breath, thinking hard. “I can’t remember him that well—I couldn’t see the color of his eyes under the brim of his cap. I had so much adrenaline pumping through me. I was mainly worried for Misty.”

“We need to check the restrooms of the other shootings.”

“Has he done this before?” Ava could barely breathe as implications flooded her brain.

“We’ll find out.”