The Watched (CSI Reilly Steel #4) (21 page)

Amazing it was taking them so long, actually. Then again, was it really that much of a surprise? He knew how easily the ball was dropped when personnel were scarce and resources were stretched. Happened in the movie business all the time. ‘Since you don’t seem interested in chatting, I’ll just cut straight to the point.’ He crossed his legs and got comfortable. ‘I’ve brought you here to write me a script – an original screenplay.’

Sheldon’s eyes widened, then narrowed. Whatever the writer had been expecting, a job wasn’t it. His voice was shaky, but his words were defiant. ‘Like hell I will.’

He grinned, glad Sheldon was regaining some of his feistiness. The writer was petrified – and who wouldn’t be – but at least this attempt at strength meant this was going to work. If Sheldon had been too scared, his writing would suck. After all, it would be difficult for him to come up with a brilliant script while pissing his pants.

‘We’ll come back to that then,’ he said with a wave of his hand, dismissing Sheldon’s words. ‘Let me show you some of my previous work; let you get an idea of what I can do.’

He could barely contain his excitement as he fixed his flash-drive into the tablet he’d purchased just for this purpose. He’d been dying to show someone his work all at once. He hadn’t gotten to watch a reaction to any of his films in the flesh, though he had enjoyed reading the comments online, validating what he already knew: the fact that he was more than capable of creating what an audience wanted.

He laughed every time he thought of the cops’ tech people desperately trying to take down his
clips, only to have them pop back up again in just a few hours.

‘Take a look at this.’ He started the first video and watched Sheldon’s face with eager anticipation.

Ten minutes later, he was stepping back, disgusted, as Sheldon dry-heaved into the bucket that had been serving as his toilet. He scowled. Maybe Drew Sheldon had been a mistake. Apparently, he couldn’t appreciate art.

‘If these aren’t to your liking,’ he said, unable to keep the sneer out of his voice, ‘perhaps my next one might better suit your fine palate.’

He started walking toward the door. ‘Until then, I’ll just let my new improved movies play. Keep in mind, sir, that you only have two choices: writing my script or watching that pretty daughter of yours star in one of my masterpieces.

‘And I guarantee you,’ he added ominously, ‘
my
stunt people don’t survive.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’
Reilly shoved herself back from her computer and grabbed the coffee Daniel had just dropped by her desk.

They’d been at the office in Clearwater since the early hours, trying to make sense of the mounting evidence gathered from the increasingly prolific movie-maker’s crime scenes. It was now late afternoon and Reilly was just beginning to flag, when she’d hit on something related to what she’d discovered last night.

‘Found a lead on the
Texas Chainsaw
thing?’ Daniel asked.

‘Yes
, but you’re not going to believe from where.’ Reilly stood up and crossed to the printer, grabbing the sheaf of paper that she’d just run off. ‘We’ll need verification from the locals, but I found this article.’ She handed the document to Daniel.

‘
California?’ He took the printout and quickly skimmed through it.

Reilly
nodded, explaining even as Daniel read. ‘Several body parts were found in a landfill in Southern California, not enough to make an entire body, but the coroner said they looked like they could be from up to four different victims. And judging by what they did find, most likely homeless. Cut marks to the bones indicated that the victims were dismembered by chainsaw.’

‘So our man
started in California and ended up here?’ Daniel nodded sagely as he came to the same conclusion Reilly had when she’d seen the location.

‘
The film festival again,’ she said. ‘It has to be connected, I’m sure of it.’

‘Perhaps
these murders and the kidnapping are connected by more than just film. Maybe Drew Sheldon was tired of being just a screenwriter and wanted to move behind the camera?’

‘And maybe he wasn’t kidnapped at all,’ Reilly said, her mind racing. ‘Maybe he just wants the authorities to think that someone took him, as cover for when he’s out making his own movies.’

‘Could be,’
Daniel said. ‘But that’s a lot of maybes.’

‘
You don’t agree?’ she said, frowning.

Daniel was typically circumspect
. ‘I just have a hard time believing that a man would bring his own daughter to the same place he plans to go on a killing spree. I agree that it’s increasingly possible someone at the film festival is involved, perhaps practicing on home turf and then going public here.’

‘Either way, it’s a good lead.’

‘
What’s a good lead?’ Todd entered as Reilly spoke. He looked tired and she guessed that the brutality of the latest murder was taking its toll on him. ‘It better be something because this asshole’s getting too cocky for my liking. He sent an email to the department this morning, “explaining” that the archery thing was a botched attempt. A botched attempt? A kid ended up speared to a bed, for Chrissakes!’ He put a hand through his hair.

‘Sit down, son.’ Todd complied and Daniel handed him a cup of freshly made coffee.

Then he read through the email the killer had sent, uttering four short sentences aloud.

‘
I have proven my skills in the area of gratuitous violence and now show that I can match the greatest of film-makers. Fans of the genre have acknowledged my superiority and have asked for more. Until the demand for my work disappears, I will continue to provide society with what they want. As other artists have not fulfilled society’s needs, I will do so proudly.’

Daniel
considered the words, both the stated meaning and the one hidden, the subconscious meaning of what the killer was saying, Reilly knew.

‘He’s narcissistic,’ he stated. ‘
Most likely has been involved in the artistic community or has been shunned by it, either for poor work or inferior quality. He sees himself as an ostracized creative, misunderstood by those around him, and he’s using these murders as the way to prove to the world that they were wrong about him.’

‘Hell of a way to prove a point,’ Todd muttered. Then he asked Reilly about what she’d found.

She indicated the laptop on the desk. ‘Based on what we learned last night – the possible
Texas Chainsaw
connection – I’ve been searching for unsolved murders where skin was missing from victims,’ she explained quickly. ‘I couldn’t find anything in Florida that fit. So I expanded the search to include news articles from other states. I figured if there was something that strange, it’d make the papers. And I was right. I got a hit in Southern California. Your dad and I were thinking it more and more likely that our killer is someone from the film festival, and not just because of the timing. If the detectives question—’

Todd
held up his hand. ‘I’ve already passed the information along about the skin to Detective Reed, but I think we need to keep this particular discovery quiet for now.’ He glanced at his father, who looked thoughtful. ‘The California connection, I mean.’

‘
Why?’ Reilly looked from Todd to Daniel and back again, confused. She was missing something.

‘Because o
nce a murderer crosses state lines, the Feds get involved,’ Daniel reminded her. ‘They’ll come in and take over.’

‘
But that means more resources, surely?’ Reilly still didn’t understand. The Tampa PD already had too much work and not enough people to do it. How could bringing in outside help be a bad thing?

‘
It’s been too long since you’ve worked in the States,’ Todd said. ‘The Bureau doesn’t play well with the locals, and Reed and Sampson will freak.’

‘Todd . . . for goodness’ sake . . .’
Reilly tried to reason with him.

‘I want
us
to nail this guy.’ His voice was hard. ‘I don’t want some gorilla Fed coming in and screwing everything up.’ He looked at his father. ‘No disrespect intended.’

Daniel put his hands up. ‘None taken, I know how it works,’ he said. ‘And I also know that if the Feds do come in, it means we’re all well and truly out.’ He looked at Reilly. ‘In this situation I agree with Todd. We promised Alice we’d take this guy down.’

Reilly opened her mouth to argue; then shut it again. She could understand their point of view to some degree. If being part of the team that caught Holly’s killer would alleviate some of Todd and Daniel’s helplessness, then she couldn’t blame them. And as long as they were making progress, and unless she saw any evidence of the investigation being compromised, she’d just do her job and leave the interdepartmental relations to Todd. It wasn’t like it was her call in any case; she was a guest here.

And s
he’d never cared much for politics anyway.

Later that evening at the beach house, she and Daniel sat in silence through two television shows that she wasn’t familiar with, and didn’t even try to follow.

She barely noticed when Daniel said he was going to bed; her attention only returned when the news announced it would be headlining a story about the recent murders. ‘Leading news tonight – as it has been for the past week – the killer a self-confessed movie maestro has claimed another victim. Little is known other than that the victim was a male African American and was discovered outside a half-finished housing complex near Hillsborough Avenue.’

‘Maestro …they gave him a goddamn nickname
. . .’ Reilly shook her head, exasperated. ‘And in related news,’ the newscaster continued, ‘an unnamed source at the TPD has confirmed that the killer sent an email, unsigned, to the department earlier today.’

She sat up straight and sighed, wondering where this supposed confidential information had come from, even though leaks were unfortunately rife in police enforcement all over the world.

The late-night newscaster’s voice was smug, as if he had personally tracked down the killer and extracted an interview. ‘In the email, the killer talks about another recent victim – an as of yet unidentified woman found in an abandoned house on the city’s south side. He explains that the victim had been targeted merely for rehearsal of a particularly difficult scene. The movie maestro apologizes for, quote, “taking a life without producing a piece of quality work” and signs off by promising that his next re-enactment will be unforgettable.’

Unforgettable for all the wrong reasons, Reilly thought darkly.

The news bulletin continued. ‘No word from our DA or local authorities as to how close they are to an arrest.’

‘
Because they really want you to announce it to everyone, including the killer, that they’re closing in,’ She glowered at the newsreader, thankful Daniel had already gone to bed and hadn’t heard her talking to herself.

‘
In other news,’ the reporter went on, ‘there have been rumors that Hollywood screenwriter Drew Sheldon, scheduled to be in town for the Tampa Film Festival, is not, as authorities have led us to believe, absent from the line-up but has in fact been kidnapped. With the alley next to the Millennium Hotel reportedly cordoned off as a crime scene, one can speculate that it was from this point that Sheldon was taken. Between the recent rash of murders and Mr Sheldon’s disappearance, citizens of the Tampa Bay Area can only wonder just what our law enforcement authorities are doing with their time. No one from the department has been available to take our questions.’

‘
That’s because they’re all out doing their goddamn jobs.’ Reilly scowled and reached for the remote. Jeez, media really was the same all over the world.

No one wanted to catch this bastard more than
Todd and Daniel though. She stood up, deciding to try and get some shuteye. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to sleep, but she was going to try.

If they were going to catch this guy, they
all needed to be at the top of their game.

CHAPTER
24

Maestro. It just had a certain ring to it. Son of Sam, Jack the Ripper, Hollywood Maestro. It could work. A chosen few knew his industry moniker, of course, though none of them knew his real name.

He was an artist, not an idiot.

And speaking of art, he needed to decide on something for his next creation.

After his last
reenactment had gone so well, he’d briefly considered purchasing a clown suit and taking a machete to it, but that wouldn’t work because he wasn’t supposed to be mixing genres or creating entirely new scenes with iconic characters.

Unfortunately, that meant that addressing his adolescent fear of clowns would need to wait. He would do it though. Clowns and then that stupid Jabberwocky that had caused him to sleep with a nightlight for six months.

He’d then considered going a bit more old-school to make a lasting impression. One of the off-screen death scenes that had always niggled at him was from a source that probably would’ve surprised most people.