The Watched (CSI Reilly Steel #4) (9 page)

He knew that he couldn’t push his luck by sharing
any other information about the investigation. Not that they had much to share.

‘
I see you decided to look over the camera equipment,’ Bradley said, ignoring the tension in the room as he pulled out a thickly rolled burrito from the bag. ‘Find anything?’

Todd carefully set down
one of the cameras found at the crime scene and stripped off his gloves. ‘This is an expensive piece of equipment, but nothing that can’t be bought at a local Radio Shack. The serial numbers have all been burned off with some form of acid, which is tricky without damaging the equipment.’

‘So it’s not his first rodeo.’
Bradley spoke through a mouthful of chili beef. At Todd’s look, he said, ‘Sorry, been watching too many Westerns lately. Go on.’

Todd continued,
‘All of the equipment’s clean. No trace of the acid used, though I’d guess it’d be nitric. Easy to obtain, hard to track. No prints, no partials or trace. Nothing we can use. He probably wiped everything down, and used gloves when handling.’

‘
Did you check for a memory card?’

He
nodded. ‘Clean as well. And empty.’

Bradley took another bite of food before
replying, ‘If the memory card was empty, then there’s a good chance the recording was transmitted somewhere else.’

Todd swore
as the penny dropped. ‘The bastard was watching.’

‘
Let’s get a tech in here and see if we can get something that way.’ Bradley tossed his chopsticks back into the box.

‘
Is anyone even working tonight?’ Todd asked.

‘Actually,
I’ve got someone better who owes me.’ Bradley grabbed his cell. A few seconds later, he spoke. ‘Peni? I’m cashing in that favor.’

Twenty minutes later, a young woman who looked more like a model than a computer tech entered the lab. Nearly six feet tall, with short black hair and obsidian eyes, she was exactly the type of woman Todd would’ve been hitting on under different circumstances. Not, he had to admit, that he limited himself to a specific type. It was more about the intelligent fire he saw in the eyes, no matter the color. At the moment, he had a pair of light gray ones sneaking into his thoughts; light gray framed by blond hair, sparkling as perfectly shaped l
ips curved upward in a smile.

Bradley’s words cut through the reverie.
‘Peni Westmore from the Cyber Crimes Unit, meet Todd Forrest.’

‘Daniel
Forrest’s son, impressive. Though no doubt there are some latent daddy issues.’ She winked at Todd. ‘Another time maybe. Now, where’s this stuff I’m supposed to take a look at?’

Todd motioned to the table, amused despite himself. He liked the way she handled herself even if he didn’t care for the mention of his father.
Still, he guessed he should have been used to that by now. It had been hard enough trying to overcome the specter of the respected criminologist when Daniel was still at Quantico. But when he’d moved down to the beach house permanently last year and started working with the department, all bets were off.

‘
Am I looking for something specific?’ she asked, her tone becoming more professional.

‘
Pretty much anything you can give us is good.’ Todd stood and stretched. His joints were stiff from sitting so long.

‘
This makes us even now, Bradley.’ Peni pulled on a pair of gloves.

‘
I don’t know about that . . .’ he said.

‘
I do. I’m missing Ivy’s poetry reading. Do you know how pissed she’s going to be?’

‘
Sleeping on the couch tonight, then?’ he grinned and Todd turned to look, intrigued by this revelation about her sexuality. He never would have guessed.

‘
Thanks to you.’

Bradley chuckled. ‘
Just yell if you find something interesting.’

‘Erm, sir?’ Emilie cleared her throat across the room,
‘I finished the analysis comparison you asked for. Only some of the sand and debris from the bodies matches the soil sample you took from the scene.’

‘
And the rest?’ Bradley asked, all playfulness gone now.

‘Dr
Kase found dried leaves and wood slivers not consistent with the crime scene photos,’ Emilie continued. ‘In fact, it’s not consistent with any beach.’

‘
Could all of that have come from being transported in the back of the truck?’ Todd asked.

‘
Get me a sample to match and I can tell you for certain,’ Emilie said. ‘But that’s as good a theory as any. What I can tell you is that the extra sand that doesn’t match with the crime scene has a higher concentration of quartz, which is consistent with a stretch of beach approximately fifteen miles from where the bodies were found.’

‘
Good work,’ Bradley said.

‘
The trace came back on the 911 call too,’ she went on.

Todd sighed.
‘Let me guess, burner cell, no way to track who made it.’

Emilie
nodded. ‘And it hasn’t been used since that call was made.’

‘
Do you think we can get a hold of the call?’

‘
I’ll see what I can do,’ Emilie said as she returned to her desk.

‘
Damn.’ Peni sounded impressed.

‘
What?’ Bradley and Todd turned their attention to the cyber expert.

She
looked up from the laptop. ‘This guy’s good.’

‘
So he was watching then?’ Bradley said, crossing to his friend.

‘
He wasn’t just watching.’ Peni pointed to a set of specs. ‘See this here? Your unsub sent the footage to an email address. This is some serious encryption.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t crack it tonight though, not with this laptop.’

‘
What do you need?’ Bradley asked.

‘My own equipment.’
Her expression was serious. ‘Whoever this guy is, he knows what he’s doing.’

The phone rang and as Bradley reached for it,
Todd mulled over the new information. The killer had come prepared with chloroform, and had stolen a truck that could transport the victims. He’d set up cameras to not only watch the kill he’d staged, but to keep a record of it, for what purpose Todd wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Then there was the murder itself. This wasn’t just a garden-variety killing. No knives, no guns, no suffocation.

This was
. . . Todd searched for the word he wanted. Dramatic, he decided. Holly’s killer was creative and intelligent.

Never
a good combination
.

The following morning at the beach house, Reilly
swung her legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing her temples. The jet lag was still affecting her as it was hours later than she usually woke in Dublin, and still way too early in Clearwater, but since she was up she might as well get something out of it and go for a run.

A shower and food could wait
for the moment. There was something about sunnier climes that made her crave physical exercise and outdoor activity, and it had been years since she’d run on the beach. At least the temperature should be cooler first thing in the morning than it had been yesterday.

She thought about what time it was in Ireland now and what they were getting up to back there. It reminded her of her last conversation with Chris before she’d left. He’d been taken aback by her decision to head to the States, albeit with clearance from Inspector O’Brien.

‘A little sudden, isn’t it? How long will you be gone?’ he’d asked, frowning.

Reilly didn’t want to admit to him that she’d been feeling homesick for months.
‘A couple of weeks at the most. I’m long overdue a vacation as it is, and it beats sitting around here waiting for O’Brien to give the nod for me to come back. The chief says six weeks is typical but you and I both know it could be more than that depending on how InternalAffairs want to play it.’

‘A
couple of weeks at a beach house sounds like heaven – any room in your suitcase for me? Though I’m not sure Agent Forrest would be too thrilled,’ he joked wryly. He’d met Daniel that time the American had travelled to Dublin and the two men hadn’t exactly bonded.

She and Chris had become quite close throughout that particular investigation – their first – and Reilly wondered if he’d viewed Daniel as some kind of rival. It was always so hard to tell with Chris. Open and straightforward in so many ways, he was like a closed book when it came to emotions.

As was she, of course, Reilly admitted. Which was possibly the main reason the two of them had been dancing around their attraction to one another for the last three years. Or was she seeing something that wasn’t actually there? Reilly had no idea. All she knew was that she’d miss being around Chris Delaney when she was gone.

‘You’re as bad as I am;
I know you couldn’t survive more than a few days away from the job,’ she’d teased him.

‘Don’t be so sure. This murder investigation is a complete mess. Until we find out what that powder was, we’ve got little else to go on.’

‘What about the victim, did she die from this stuff then?’

‘No,
ME listed cause of death as respiratory failure.’

‘Seems strange.’ Then Reilly shook the thoughts away, reminding herself that through her own actions, she was out of this particular investigation and any other GFU-related cases for the next month at least.

She was of course anxious to find out what the powder had been, but for different reasons, although she guessed that if the substance had been dangerously toxic, she wouldn’t have been back on her feet so quickly. Still, she asked Chris to let her know when the lab results came back.

Now, running along the beach, s
he could barely breathe in the muggy air as her feet sought out the harder packed sand, but she forced herself to keep going. She was stopped in her tracks a little way down the beach by the sight of a small pod of dolphins frolicking in the glassy gulf waters only a few feet away. Surprised at the unexpected but delightful sight, it put a spring in her step and gave her the impetus to keep going a little longer. And despite the insane temperature and humidity, as well as her lack of fitness, she managed to take in five miles.

By the time Reilly
ran back down the beach toward the house, she was drenched with sweat but her mind was finally empty. Stripping off her running gear and down to her underwear, she launched herself into the small pool, relishing the immediate refreshment, though in truth the water wasn’t much cooler than the outside temperature. She remained in the water for a few more minutes, watching the pelicans and egrets gliding across the gulf waters, occasionally swooping down for breakfast as the sun gradually rose higher in the sky. Man, there was so much to be said for a warmer climate.

But speaking of breakfast . . .

Getting out of the pool, Reilly tiptoed back upstairs to her room, hoping not to wake Daniel at this early hour. No doubt the horrible events of yesterday evening would have given him a troubled sleep and she hoped he’d managed to grab a few hours’ rest.

A little while later, h
er still-wet hair was twisted up behind her head and the perfume of mango shower wash – newly bought from the local CVS on the way home last night – lingered on her skin.

There was
also a lot to be said for the therapeutic value of sweet-scented cosmetics, and Reilly’s sensitive nose appreciated them more than most.

To her surprise, Daniel
was already in the kitchen making coffee when she entered. He poured her a cup and she took a sip of the dark, aromatic liquid and sighed, wrapping her hands around the mug. Boy, had she missed American coffee.

‘How are you feeling today?’ she asked.

‘Better, now that I know I can officially do something.’ When she looked enquiringly at him, he elaborated. ‘Alice called this morning. She wants me to investigate Holly’s case.’

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’

But she knew it was a stupid question. Daniel was already knee-deep in his god-daughter’s investigation, her mother’s request notwithstanding. And she had to admit that if she were in his shoes, she would do the very same.

‘So I was wondering . . . d
id you have any plans for today?’ he asked, in a tone Reilly knew only too well.

She eyed him suspiciously, playing along.
‘Well, I was actually thinking about working on my tan. I’ve got so pale it’s embarrassing. Why?’

He handed her
a bagel slathered in fat-free cream cheese. ‘I thought you might like to come and see the office –
my
office.’

‘Nice try, but it won’t work, you know.’

‘What?’ He was all innocence.

‘The not so subtle recruitment drive. I’m on vacation, remember?’

‘Exactly. And last I checked, sight-seeing was a major part of that.’ He grinned. ‘So let me give you the grand tour . . .’