“I don’t know what it’s linked to. Maybe nothing. But I do know this much: it’s definitely not a smoke alarm. It’s a camera.”
FIFTY-NINE
We were just about to head into Santa Monica when Alex’s cell phone gave a loud ping. He handed the phone to me. “I’ve got a Google alert tagged to Dale’s name.”
The alert was a link to a news banner that read: “Tragic Accident on Mountain Road. Death Linked to Pearson Murder Case.” My heart gave an agonizing thump as I read it aloud.
Michelle, her voice sounding as bad as mine, echoed my thoughts. “Oh God, no. Now what?” I wished I didn’t have to find out. I hit the link and held the phone so Michelle could watch with me. A blonde anchor wearing a plunging neckline announced in dire tones, “A tragic accident has claimed the life of a witness who recently surfaced in the Dale Pearson case. Experts are saying it’s bound to be a serious blow to the defense. Jim Martinelli has the latest. Jim?”
The blonde anchor threw to a reporter standing on the shoulder of a road.
Behind him, the sun had faded to a dim glow, and the mountains loomed dark and ominous. “Laura, I’m standing just forty feet away from the spot where stuntman Storm Cooper’s motorcycle went off the road here on Mulholland Highway. There were no witnesses, but police believe he lost control and drove off the embankment, then plunged to his death three hundred feet below. Authorities were alerted to look for the body when a hiker familiar with the area noticed new tire marks that seemed to skid off the asphalt, continue across the dirt shoulder, and go straight off the cliff. This road is very popular among bikers. Friends of the stuntman say it was one of his favorite rides. Now, it seems this was his last ride. Back to you, Laura.”
I closed the link.
“An accident,” Michelle said. “I can’t believe it.”
I stared at the screen. “I don’t believe it.” Not after the fire. And the burglary of my apartment.
Michelle looked at me, stricken. “But he didn’t really tell you all that much.”
“No. Either he knew more than he told me, or someone thought he did.”
Alex glanced at me, his expression worried. “Samantha, if you’re right, we can’t put this off anymore. We’ve got to call the police.”
Michelle sat forward, her arms wrapped around her torso. “He’s right. Someone just killed a friggin’ witness, for God’s sake. And almost got us.”
I nodded. I was plenty scared. And a little in shock. The thought that someone had killed Storm-in part because of me-was horrifying. But the likelihood of it was undeniable given everything that had happened, and the timing of it all. “Okay, we’ll call the police.” I looked at Alex’s phone. It was only six o’clock. I couldn’t believe it. It felt like midnight. “Let’s just hold off until we see what’s on that camera.” I gave Alex a pointed look. “Since it almost got us killed.”
When we got back to his apartment, he examined it and explained. “It’s a motion-activated camera with a built-in DVR that records onto an SD card. Pretty simple device. I should be able to hook it up to a television and play whatever it captured.”
Michelle had poured herself a glass of wine to stop her hands from shaking. “How’d you know that thing was a camera? It looks like a garden-variety smoke alarm to me.”
“Because my uncle has one just like it in his office. He uses it for security… and to spy on his employees.”
Michelle took a sip of her wine. “Maybe they put it in as a security thing, too, since they’re gone for… what did that mechanic say? A year?”
Alex nodded. “That’s possible. But then I’d expect to see other surveillance gear outside the house, and maybe in other rooms, too. When we walked around the outside of the house, I didn’t see any cameras.”
Alex went to a cupboard in the kitchen and pulled out a plastic tub filled with all kinds of power and electrical cords. He chose one, took the alarm over to the television in the living room, and plugged it into the television. “Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
Alex changed the input on the television and started the camera. An image flickered on. A paunchy, dark-haired man in his forties was looking up at the camera. He waved his arms, then got up on the bed. Then the screen went dark. I pointed to the television. “That’s the guy in the photos. The ones I saw on the dresser.” I pulled up the photos I’d taken in the bedroom and showed them to Alex and Michelle.
Alex nodded. “Mr. Larsen, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah,” Michelle said. “What was he doing? Was he testing the thing?”
Alex nodded. “Looks like it.”
The camera continued to play. The next image showed a handsome blond man in a silk robe moving around the bed. There was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket on the nightstand. A woman lay on the bed behind him. “How come there’s no sound?”
Alex frowned. “I don’t know. My uncle’s has sound. It might not have that feature. Or it might be a malfunction.”
I hoped it didn’t matter. “Pause when we get to a better shot of the woman.”
Alex nodded and restarted the camera. The blond man sat down on the bed, picked up a small mirror and a rolled-up bill, and held it to his nose. He snorted a couple of lines, then passed it to the woman behind him. When she took the mirror, he left the room. Now we had an unobscured view of the bed. Alex paused the video. I stood up and walked over to the television. I stared at the woman’s face. “Oh my God. That’s Paige.”
Michelle leaned forward and looked closely at the screen. “You’re right.”
We were all silent for a few moments as we studied the image. But it was too soon to tell whether this would do anything for us. There was no date or time stamped on the video. I stepped back. “Okay. Let ’er rip.”
Alex hit play. The blond man came back, followed by a younger-looking man. I grabbed Alex’s arm. “Can you pause again?”
As I stared at the frame, my heart began to beat hard and fast. I pointed to the younger man. “That’s Marc, isn’t it?”
Michelle looked closer. “It sure is.”
Alex nodded. “Yeah. But who’s the blond guy?”
“No clue. Okay, hit it, Alex.”
The blond man dropped his robe and got on the bed next to Paige. He looked tall, and he was lean but well muscled. Marc, who was a lot thinner and shorter than the blond man by several inches, lay down on the other side of her. Now I noticed that there were three glasses next to the ice bucket. Paige got up and slid off the bed. Based on my memory of the place, it looked like she was heading for the bathroom.
As soon as she left, the blond man rolled Marc over, facedown on the bed, and started to climb onto his back. Marc shoved him off, looking angry. He pushed Marc back down and tried to get on top of him again. This time, Marc bucked him off and swung out his arm, hitting the blond guy in the throat.
They started to grapple. Paige must’ve heard them fighting because she came running back into the bedroom and tried to pull him away from Marc. Marc seized the opportunity and took another swing at him, but he failed to connect. The blond man suddenly twisted away, grabbed the champagne bottle, and raised it over his head. But before he could swing it, Marc tumbled to the floor and scrambled out of view.
The blond man followed, holding the bottle like a club, and also moved out of view. Now Paige was alone; she grabbed a towel off the floor, wrapped it around her, and hurried out after them. The camera flickered for a second, then we saw Paige run back through the bedroom and head for the bathroom. She was sobbing. I asked Alex to pause. “What the hell? Why did it flicker like that? Is it broken?”
Alex shook his head. “No. It’s motion activated. When it doesn’t detect motion, it shuts off. That means when everyone moved out of range, it stopped recording. So there’s a time gap here. We know they all left the bedroom, but we don’t know for how long.”