Johnson’s death speaks of opportunism, the wheel wrench to hand when the killer happened upon Johnson changing a flat.
My next thought is Kira and the woman are connected while Johnson is a random victim, killed as much by chance as by his murderer.
36
The Watcher raises the takeout coffee to his lips as he walks down Third. The early morning light glints off the dewdrops as he savours the Java. It’s a rare treat and is for cover more than anything else.
A dozen or so yards ahead of him is a potential target. The pock, pock, pock of her heels on the sidewalk is at odds with the tree-lined avenue and the hour. It’s the sound of the city, of business. It’s measured and regular, not the arrhythmic clack of a drunk girl staggering home.
Her Facebook status told him she was an HR manager for one of the oil companies. It also told him she had a colleague from head office joining her for the day, which hotel the colleague was staying at and the hour she was supposed to collect him.
Facebook holds a lot of other information about her. Like how much of a dog lover she is; how terrible she feels for her niece who’d discovered a body. Best of all there was even a post detailing the time she’d be dropping off her colleague at the airport.
The three-mile drive from the airport to town would be deserted so late in the day and Facebook had armed him with the perfect ruse to get her to stop.
He watches as she enters the hotel right on time. The business suit and brisk manner speak of a life spent adhering to the clock and a series of deadlines.
A smile crosses his lips. He’s identified a target and the car she drives. If he can get the other in place he can execute the plan just the way he imagines it.
The HR manager’s adherence to the clock will make her an easy target. Predictable in her movements, she’ll be in the right place at the right time. At least as far as he is concerned it will be the right place. For her it will be something else altogether.
He crosses the road and rounds a corner in case she comes out and spots him. He stops at the pharmacy and buys something he hasn’t bought for years, before returning to his car to begin the next phase of his reconnaissance.
Next on this morning’s to-do list is a drive past the homes of two of the boy’s relatives.
It is a toss-up between the boy’s older brother and his uncle as to which one will be the easiest to capture.
Acquiring and taking down two targets in the space of a day will be tough, but the payoff is worth the risk.
Every day will see another kill.
Every kill will add to the tally.
Every kill MUST adhere to the pattern.
37
I reach Alfonse’s house at five to nine. It’s late by my standards, but I’ve spent an extra ten minutes in the shower trying to massage the cricks from my neck.
Falling asleep in the chair had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it hasn’t worked out so well. When I woke, my neck felt like a gorilla had spent the night attempting to twist my head off my shoulders; there was also an unfamiliar taste in my mouth. Of salt and more than a little fear.
The less said about my dreams the better. The few scant hours of sleep I managed were plagued with nightmares of drowning. Of being sucked into murky depths where all I could see were the bodies of Kira, Johnson and the old woman. The mental aberrations of my mind were intense, with a clarity of sound, taste and vision giving a sensory validity to my nightmares. I couldn’t tell where the water was, but I remember sharks and whales swimming in the distance.
I am surprised to find Alfonse sitting at his table spooning cereal into his mouth, while his free hand works the screen of his iPad.
‘I take it you read those reports last night?’
I nod. He knows me too well.
‘So what did you come up with?’
‘Nothing yet. But I was trying to final a connection based on what’s in these reports. If we can find out who the latest victim is, maybe it’ll help us find a pattern.’
‘You’re asking a lot.’
I know what he means. He’s more experienced in these matters than I am, but I’m aware there are times in an investigation when new revelations offer confusion rather than clarity.
‘Have you heard anything from the chief this morning?’
I shake my head as he turns his iPad round and pushes it towards me.
Picking it up, I look down at the email he’s selected for me.
It’s from his best client on the oilfields. The guy is suspicious of a company delivering supplies into one particular area and wants Alfonse to look into it.
He offers double the usual rate for Alfonse to drop whatever he’s working on and start right away.
I wince for Alfonse. This guy gives him at least five months’ work a year. He’s tried to entice him into joining the company full time a minimum of four times to my knowledge.
‘What you gonna do?’
He shrugs. ‘What can I do? I can’t leave a murder investigation just because he clicks his fingers. I’ve explained what I’m working on and that I’ll make him my next priority.’
I give him a silent thumbs up to show my approval.
He is taking a gamble on his future by refusing to be bought. The guys running the oilfields expect local businesses to jump when they speak and there is every chance Alfonse has just burned a very lucrative bridge.
On the other hand, murder trumps theft every time. It all boils down to the amount the guy suspects is being stolen or embezzled and how much stress he is under. The offer of double pay, plus the request for an immediate start indicates both are high.
I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell. Chief Watson’s name is on the screen as the second ring sounds.
‘Yes, Chief?’
I listen to his rapid words for a minute, then agree to join him.
I hang up the call and look at Alfonse. ‘Your girlfriend did the autopsy on the old woman last night. Chief wants us there when she gives him her report.’
He shakes his head. ‘No point two of us doing the same thing. You go. I’ll stay here, start looking into Paul Johnson’s life a little deeper than the police have.’
What he says makes sense. Farrage and co have performed their search in a professional manner, which smells of the chief’s influence, but their reports lack the details Alfonse would have uncovered. There were no insights, revelations or theories raised. Just flat answers to basic questions.
38
Fifteen minutes later I’m sitting with Chief Watson in Emily Green’s office. His face looks the way my neck felt earlier. I’ve had three hours’ sleep and it looks as if he’s had less.
‘Let’s have it then. What did you find?’ The chief’s brusque manner highlights the stress he’s under.
Emily ignores his rudeness and hands each of us a sheaf of papers.
‘That’s my full report on the autopsy so far. Blood results and toxicology will take a few more days to come through.’ She looks at Chief Watson. ‘If you agree the budget, I can get the lab in Salt Lake to push them up their priority list.’
‘Consider it agreed. I want every scrap of information as soon as humanly possible.’
I speak for the first time. ‘What did you find during the autopsy?’
‘The Jane Doe was riddled with cancer. I doubt she’d have lived more than a year at best. She had a hip replacement.’ A raised hand forestalled the chief. ‘Yes, I’ve taken the serial number from it and phoned the hospital. They’re coming back to me as soon as their records office opens.’