Web of Justice (19 page)

Hank hurried over to Callaway. Another photo of Jane Doe lay on the desk, and the young whiz was staring at his monitor. He tapped his keyboard, rubbed the strain from his eyes, and looked up as Hank approached.

“We were able to get a lot of footage,” Callaway said. “I’m still going over it. Not all of the stores have cameras, so it’s hit and miss. So far, no luck.”

Hank went around and stood behind Callaway. He leaned in and watched the monitor as Callaway restarted the video, playing it in double time.

Hank scrutinized each person who came in and out of stores, paid for purchases, or walked up and down aisles. He strained to see the face of the woman in the photo. Each time Callaway switched to a video from another store, Hank prayed it would help them reveal the true name of Jane Doe.

In a few minutes, Callaway sat back. “That’s the last one from inside the stores. All we have left is some footage from around the mall.”

“Let’s watch it all,” Hank said. “Start with anything near the east entrance doors.”

Callaway cued up another video and Hank glared at the screen. According to the timestamp, it was late morning, and the mall wasn’t all that busy. A few stragglers came and went. Finally, Hank half-shouted, pointing at the monitor. “Stop. That’s her.”

The young cop stopped the video, backed it up, and paused it. Hank strained to see. “She’s wearing a yellow-and-white striped t-shirt and blue jeans. Can you zoom in a bit?”

Callaway zoomed in on the woman’s face. “It’s not very clear. That’s about the best you’re gonna get.”

The image was pixelated, but long black hair framed a face Hank was sure was the right one. He wasn’t much for malls, but he’d been to Hillcrest Mall many times in the past, and he knew the layout. “Zoom back again,” he said.

Callaway zoomed back.

Hank pointed. “Zoom in on the bag.”

Callaway did.

“That’s a Cranston’s shopping bag she’s carrying,” Hank said. “I’d recognize it anywhere. And I know exactly where that shot’s from. She just left Cranston’s.”

Hank looked at the timestamp. It read 11:18 a.m. He pulled out his cell phone, got the number for Cranston’s Department Store, and dialed. He asked to be put through to store security, and in a few moments, a man answered, “Security. Chris here.”

Chris was a good friend of the Lincolns, and Lincoln Investigations had done some work for Cranston’s in the past. Consequently, Chris was on a first-name basis with Hank, well aware of who he was. Hank identified himself and was acknowledged by a robust greeting, and he got down to business.

“Chris, this is urgent,” he said. “A woman made a purchase from Cranston’s sometime between eleven ten and eleven eighteen. I need to know who she is. Will you check credit card records from your east checkouts during that period?”

“No problem. Hold on a few minutes.”

Hank drew up a chair and dropped into it. He stared blank-eyed at the monitor, positive they were on the right track, and hoping the woman had paid by credit card. He was desperate to find out this woman’s name.

In a few minutes, Chris came back on the line. “During that time frame, there were three purchases on credit cards made by Cranston Club members, and well as two from nonmembers.”

“Give me the names of the members.” Hank grabbed a pen from Callaway’s desk and flipped over the photo of the victim. He poised the pen and waited.

“According to the names from their club cards, we have Sarah Mitchell, Hannah Quinn, and Teresa Gonzales.”

Hank scribbled down the names. “Thanks, Chris. You’ve been a big help. I’ll talk to you later.” Hank hung up. He hoped Jane Doe was a member of Cranston’s. Otherwise, he’d need to get a warrant to obtain the credit card numbers of any other purchasing customers in order to get their names. He didn’t want to waste that much time.

Callaway eyed the names and did a search on the DMV records for Sarah Mitchell.

Hank looked at the photo of a fifty-something woman and his heart sank.

Callaway did another search, this time for Hannah Quinn.

Hank’s eyes popped and a grim smile spread across his lips. “That’s her. That’s our Jane Doe.” Hank slugged Callaway on the shoulder. “Good job. Any vehicles in her name?”

Callaway did another search and printed out the records, and Hank took the printouts back to his desk. He was elated at finding out who she was, but he was heartbroken for the family of the woman who now had a name.

And the uncomfortable task of notifying the victim’s loved ones always fell to him.

He put a BOLO out on Hannah Quinn’s red BMW sedan. It was less common than the vehicle Izzy had used previously, and now that they had the plate number, it was just a matter of time before the car was spotted.

Hank looked at his watch. The press would be gathered on the front steps, and he was already a few minutes late. He’d have to put off contacting Hannah’s family until after the press conference.

He grabbed a sheet of blank paper and a pen and jotted down some notes. This would be a short conference. All he wanted was to warn the citizens of Richmond Hill, then get back to the urgent job of tracking down a killer.

Chapter 31

Thursday, 3:35 p.m.

ANNIE SAT BACK in her comfortable chair and stared at the TV screen, her mind sinking into thought as a commercial ran. Channel 7 Action News had broadcast Hank’s news conference live. The cop’s short address on the front steps of the RHPD building had contained little more than an alert to the city advising caution. Hank hadn’t taken any questions.

She wondered how many people would see the conference at this time of day. No doubt they would rerun it several times as a news alert, and the story would take a prominent place on the six o’clock news, but until then, most of the black-haired, dark-brown-eyed, female citizens of the city would remain uninformed and at risk.

Jake swung upright from a lying position on the couch, switched off the television, and rubbed his bristling hair back. He looked at Annie. “Hank didn’t mention Jane Doe, but I’ll bet the red BMW he asked people to watch for is hers. I’m surprised he didn’t call us.”

“He didn’t have time,” Annie said. “And I feel helpless sitting here with nothing to go on, and no idea in the world where Izzy might be.”

Matty looked up from where he was lying on the floor, a pillow behind his head, a comic book rolled up in his hand. He had a worried look on his face. “Uncle Hank said women with dark hair should be careful. Kyle’s mom has dark hair.”

Jake spoke. “We’ll talk to her, but I’m sure she’s fine. She has light brown eyes.”

That seemed to satisfy Matty, and he flipped his comic open again, soon absorbed in reading about the latest adventures of Batman.

But this wasn’t Gotham, there were no superheroes here, and Annie wanted to do something before another unknown victim got a deadly taste of Izzy Wilde’s mad obsession.

She reached to the stand beside her chair and picked up a file folder, flipping it open. She leafed through the scant evidence they had on the Izzy Wilde case for the hundredth time. Each time she’d hoped something would pop out at her, but it never did. There wasn’t a whole lot to go on.

She sighed, dropped the folder back onto the stand, and stood. “I’m going to see Chrissy for a few minutes.” She turned to her son. “Matty, stay inside, please. You can go and see Kyle if you want, but make sure you stay inside their house for now.”

Matty looked up and frowned. “I don’t have dark brown eyes.”

Annie laughed. “Just stay inside.”

Though Izzy Wilde had called Lincoln Investigations twice, each time warning them to stay away, his warnings never came across as a direct threat toward her or her family. She didn’t feel they were in any imminent danger, but she decided it was always more sensible to play it safe.

She went to the kitchen for her handbag and walked out the front door, then stopped short at the sight of Lisa Krunk strolling up the path toward her.

The newswoman had a wide smile pasted on her unattractive face, and she waved one hand casually, the other hand gripping a cordless microphone. Don followed dutifully behind, the camera on his shoulder. The red light wasn’t on.

“Good afternoon, Annie,” Lisa said as she approached, the forced smile still stuck to her face.

Annie smiled politely, stepped off the front porch, and waited.

Lisa stopped three feet away, the mike at her side. “I just came from the news conference,” she said. “I want to put together a piece for the six o’clock news, and I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”

“I don’t know any more than what you already have,” Annie said. “Detective Corning would be your best source.”

“Hank doesn’t have time for any questions right now. He shooed me away when I tried to talk to him.”

Annie wanted to shoo her away as well, but she remained polite. “I assume he gave you all he had at the press conference.” Annie paused, then asked, “What do you want to know from us?”

Lisa hesitated, then said, “I’m interested in getting an interview with Izzy Wilde. I’ve talked to his brother in the past, but he feels it would be impossible to connect me up with Izzy.” She cocked her head, and her voice took on an uncharacteristic begging tone. “I’m certain you and Jake are working on some leads, and I want to make a deal with you.”

Annie frowned. “What kind of deal?” Lisa’s deals usually ended up being one-sided, with Lisa coming out the winner.

“I want to interview Izzy Wilde. In return, Lincoln Investigations would get full credit for assistance.” She paused and said in an offhand manner, “I’m sure you could always use the publicity.”

Annie didn’t want that kind of publicity. Besides, they had as much business as they could handle. She raised her chin an inch and glared at Lisa. “We don’t know where he is. If we did, we would tell the police first.”

Lisa was too self-centered to feel embarrassed by her unethical request. She continued, undaunted. “I thought you might have some idea.”

“None,” Annie said. She turned when she heard the door open behind her. Jake stepped out onto the porch, a deep frown on his face as he looked at the camera, then back at Lisa.

Lisa looked calmly at Jake and explained what she wanted. He gave the same response as Annie. “We don’t know where he is. Sorry, we can’t help you.”

Annie put her hands on her hips. “You’d have a better chance if you drove around looking for a red BMW,” she said. “We have nothing for you.”

Lisa glared back, stuck her nose in the air, and spoke in a condescending tone. “I’m going to find him eventually,” she said. “And when I do, I thought you might be interested in being the ones who brings him in.”

“We don’t care who catches him,” Jake said. “And if you come across him, you’d get more goodwill from the police if you contacted them rather than trying to interview a killer.”

Lisa narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying I’m not interested in justice?”

“It looks that way, yes,” Jake said. “Sometimes I have to wonder what’s the most important to you.”

Lisa cocked her head, undeterred. “The story is the most important. I’m a journalist.”

Annie gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. Lisa had a warped sense of right and wrong. Without some integrity, she was destined be a two-bit hack forever rather than the investigative journalist she thought herself to be.

Lisa crossed her arms. “Are you telling me you don’t want to be interviewed on camera?”

“That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Jake said. “We’ve nothing to tell you, and nothing that’ll help you or the police find Izzy Wilde.”

Lisa stared tight-lipped a moment and then nodded at Don, and they strode back to the van and got in. It edged from the curb and disappeared down the street.

Annie looked at Jake and shook her head. “I swear that woman’s losing her mind.”

Jake laughed and followed Annie back into the house. “I thought you were going to Chrissy’s.”

“Just give me a minute to calm down.” She hurried into the living room as her cell phone played a jingle. It was Hank.

“I might drop by a little later if you guys’re gonna be home,” the cop said.

“We’ll let you know if we go out,” Annie said. “If it’s a social visit, why don’t you bring Amelia with you?”

Hank paused. “We might end up talking business.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time you discussed your job with Amelia. She probably wants to know you value her opinion enough to involve her.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll see how things pop.”

“Did you find out who Jane Doe is?” Annie asked.

“I did—with Callaway’s help. We figured it out from the mall’s security recordings, and with the assistance of Chris at Cranston’s. The woman’s name is Hannah Quinn, and I’m about to pay her husband a visit. Then I have a few things to do, but if all goes well, I’ll see you in two or three hours.”

Annie hung up. She didn’t envy Hank his assignment. She told Jake the news, then went to see Chrissy. In case her best friend wasn’t up on the latest, Annie wanted to warn her there was a killer on the loose.

Chapter 32

Thursday, 5:15 p.m.

HANK SAT QUIETLY in the driveway of the house where Hannah Quinn used to live. Things had gone pretty much as he’d expected. Hannah’s husband had just gotten home from work, and the man had been shattered at the news of his wife’s murder. Hank had watched out-of-control tears flow down the devastated man’s face.

But the thing that broke Hank’s heart was finding out the couple had a two-year-old child. A baby girl.

Hannah’s mother had been taking care of the toddler while Hannah went shopping, and Hank was thankful the child hadn’t been with her mother at the time of the abduction. One senseless death was bad enough, but two, especially that of a child, was unthinkable.

Sometimes Hank hated this job.

He started his car and backed from the driveway, leaving the wretched man behind. Out of his sight, but not forgotten. Hank had seen a lot that would be burned into his mind forever. Some things never went away.