Eleven (34 page)

“It can represent many things from religious to philosophical to ideology teachings.”

“It’s fascinating how basic shapes and linear strokes can be the subject of such debate and intrigue over the centuries.” Zachery stepped forward. Robinson’s eyes went to him. “The interpretation of the symbol can virtually be endless. But the one thing always agreed upon is its simplicity and divinity of the number one. It’s purity.”

“Eleven inner points were consciously chosen in its design. Eleven represents perfection. The attributes of purity doubled in strength,” Robinson added.

“It’s time for you to answer that question, Mr. Robinson, why did you kill those people?” Jack resumed control over the interrogation.

“She shot me!” A pointed finger shot in Paige’s direction. “An unarmed black man.”

“The man suspected of being a serial killer.” Jack drew Robinson’s attention back to him.

“I told you. I couldn’t kill anyone. Deserving or not.”

“But you like to decide.”

“Do you not make decisions in life? Judge or condemn others for theirs? Then you and I are no different.”

I noted the reflection change in Jack’s eyes. He picked up on what I saw. There was defensiveness that resided in Peter Robinson. Along with it came pride. The fact he knew so much about the coinherence symbol indicated intelligence. All of those factors corresponded with the characteristic traits Bingham demonstrated and that his follower would need too.

“Life should be order. Instead, chaos is what rules,” Robinson continued. “You have technology invented to simplify, yet we are busier than ever. Movements to save the environment that end up destroying it further.”

“You believe you have ideas that would benefit everyone?”

“I know I do.”

“Like what?”

“Oh no, I’m not sayin’ and someone else be taking the credit.”

“I’m going to ask you again.” Jack uncrossed his leg and leaned forward. “Where were you four days ago?”

“Wednesday? I told you.  I’m always in my shop. I can prove it. My cameras actually work.” He looked at Paige. “And it’ll have you on camera shooting me. That should come in handy.”

Paige lifted a shoulder.

“We’re not here to talk about the shooting. We’re going to need that video footage. And our experts will verify that the date stamp hasn’t been tampered with.”

“I can assure you it hasn’t.”

Jack rose from the chair, leaving it where he had dragged it. He scooped the photos from the bed.

“You’re letting me go?” He looked at his cuffed hand. “Undo me.”

“You will be in here for a couple days. We will have police officers posted at your door. You get free, try to leave, and they’ll shoot the other shoulder.”

“And I’ll be getting’ myself a lawyer.” Robinson called out from behind us.

In the hall, Jack said, “Paige and Zach, you get to The Pawnshop and get that video footage. The kid and I will stay here until you get back.”

“Do you think Robinson did this?” Paige asked.

“Too early to tell but he knows about the coinherence symbol and has the right attitude.”

“And he didn’t seem really affected by the pictures,” I added.

“Good point, Pending. The average person would be sick or stare in shock. Robinson did none of those things.”

I would have smiled at Zachery for the compliment but didn’t want to give him the impression his opinion meant anything.

“The way I see it, this doesn’t count into his hours of holding time. These are bonus hours,” Jack said.

Zachery smiled at him. “That’s why you’re the boss.”

“Don’t start kissing ass now, Zach. I don’t much like a man’s lips there.”

“And you would know the feeling?” Zachery was laughing.

A smile smeared over Jack’s lips. “Don’t get smart.”

“Yes, boss.”

“We need to find a way to link Robinson with the murder victims. Get into his life.”

“And find his motive. What would prove as a stressor to him?” Paige asked.

“Let’s get started then. It’s already nine in the morning, and we have a long day ahead of us.”

CHAPTER 34

If efforts equated results, Nadia would have the congregation list by this point. She knew they were pursuing a lead, but until it was proven Robinson was the unsub she was to continue as directed.  But if she didn’t get some cooperation from the church administration, Jack would be banging on the church doors himself. Really they would be doing themselves a favor to respond to her messages.

Personally, she’d rather be at home under the sheets, but she knew Jack’s patience had a low threshold. Even trying to convince herself that she was in on a Sunday as a favor to him didn’t work. She wanted to get this guy. Anyone who was still free to roam the streets after killing those people wasn’t suited for life.

Nadia flicked fingers across keys and moved the mouse rapidly around the screen. She would do what she could to narrow this down for them if it took all of her time to do so.

For some reason the thought of Deborah Fisher’s face when she handed the phone back after calling Brandon came back to Nadia and pulled on her emotions. The man responsible for these murders, the one free to do so again, had been the final stressor in their marriage. In a way, Nadia felt liable for providing the phone for her to call Brandon, and when Deborah hung up and said her goodbyes, it gave Nadia a nauseous twist in her stomach. The unsub they were looking for was intelligent and mobile. He found Deborah once to target Brandon’s emotions, and he could do so again.

Nadia typed faster. Images and data filled the screen. She’d have to think creatively and get the congregation list another way.

Zachery tracked the cord from the video camera to where it went through a hole cut out in the drywall.

Paige kept her eyes on the place where she had fired her weapon; a hand instinctively went to her replacement firearm. Standard protocol dictated that when a gun was fired it was to be collected as evidence.

Evidence.

Something about even hearing it referred to that way made Paige regret the decision.

“The recording device is in here.” Zachery tapped the doorframe and glanced at Paige.

She looked up at him.

He took a few steps to her. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He moved backward as if he expected her to follow. When she didn’t, he pulled in closer to her. “You had no choice.”

“I warned him to put his arms up. I did so more than once.”

“You followed procedure. He could have had a gun behind the counter.”

“But he didn’t.” Paige’s eyes went to the counter. Her mind kept replaying the moment she pulled the trigger.

“This isn’t your first time Paige. You filled out some paperwork—”

“I assure you more than
some
. Some is when you unclasp the clip over your gun. Some is even when you draw your weapon. Some doesn’t apply when it’s discharged.” She didn’t look at him as she walked behind the counter.

“Robinson’s going to be fine.”

She noticed the impatient tone growing in her team member’s tone of voice. “You’re right.” She nodded and took a deep breath hoping it would rid her of the negative thoughts. But anyone she had shot before had been armed.

Shooting an unarmed man, did that make her as bad as the killers she hunted?

“The door locked?” She went up behind Zachery, brushed him out of the way, and twisted the door handle. “Yep.”

“Did you want to shoot it out?”

Paige cocked her head to the side. “You think you’re funny.”

He smiled and scanned the store for something that would work. “Ah, here we go.”

“A wrench set?”

Zachery opened the case which must have held fifty different sizes. What he came out with wasn’t a wrench.

“An Allen Key.” Paige smiled. She understood now. “Smart.”

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not half bad at home repairs. With the job I just rarely have time for them.”

Paige went to the counter where she remembered seeing a pile of paperclips and came back with one for Zachery.

He nodded a thank you and got to work. The lock was of standard interior security and the door was opened within fifteen seconds.

Inside was an old wooden desk with mismatched file trays overflowing with paper. A computer monitor, dating back about a decade, took up most of the desk space and the CPU tower hummed from the floor.

Following the trail of black electrical cords from the hole in the wall it led to a video tape recorder.

“Tape? Who actually uses that anymore?”

“He did mention his concern over the environment. Maybe this is one of his creative ways,” Paige offered.

Zachery traced his fingers over the machine and looked in the clear plastic door where the video cassette was. “It’s not rollin’. He must have run out of tape.”

Paige scanned the shelves that were bracketed to the wall. Video tapes were stacked on each other, labeled one through three. “Number four must be the one in the machine from yesterday. That would explain why it ran out of tape. It looks like he has one for every four days and then reuses them?”

“If that’s the case then Wednesday would be tape number one.”

“Just let me know when it’s ready.” Paige left the room with her eyes on the counter. She replayed the image in her mind of the bullet impacting Robinson’s shoulder, how it jerked him slightly backward, and how the blood projected from it.

She shot an unarmed man.

She turned around and Zachery wasn’t watching her but was paying attention to the video machine. She stepped behind the counter and walked down to where Robinson had been standing. She picked up on the metallic scent of blood. It had dried a darkened red, almost black, on the floor and behind where some had splattered on the wall.

The back of the counter was open-faced with a shelf for storage. A thick layer of dust covered every surface. It was littered with more trinkets from another age. Walkmans in their original packaging were lined up and organized based on color. Paige picked one up. She remembered how excited she was when her father bought one for her. She had felt like an adult being able to put on the headset and tune out everything except for the sound of
REO Speedwagon
and
Bryan Adams
.

She put it down, her fingers leaving voids in the dust on the packaging. She kept moving along until she reached exactly where she shot Robinson.

“Paige.”

Zachery’s call pulled her from her thoughts. “What?”

“We’re ready to go here.”

“Just a sec.”

Zachery stood in the doorway between the office and the storefront. She knew he watched her, but she didn’t care. She had to see for herself that there was no weapon behind here. She bent down and there were stacks of CDs, most of them dance mixes from the late ’80s and early ’90s and cassette tapes of artists she had never heard of, still wrapped in cellophane.

“Paige?”

“I said just a sec.”

She heard Zachery’s footsteps approach the counter. He looked at her from the customer side. “What do you expect to find down there?”

She ignored him and her eyes kept scanning.

“The local PD—”

She glared up at him. “I know what they said. But come around here and look for yourself.”

“We don’t like to fire our weapon Paige, but sometimes it’s the job.” Zachery walked around.

She lowered closer to the floor to see the underside of the counter. There was evidence of strapping that could have held a gun. “The Chief despises FBI. His people might too.”

“You’re saying either he or his people removed the evidence?”

“It sounds ludicrous out loud.”

“Kind of actually. Why would—”

“Maybe someone couldn’t make agent and wanted to cast a bad light on the FBI’s competence with me in the sightline.”

Jack and I split our time between passing glances at each other and trying to coerce Robinson into talking. We’d go into the room, push for several minutes; when Robinson sealed up, we’d leave the room. Sometimes we left the room when Robinson was in the middle of a rant. Jack said it would have tortured the man as a narcissist not having all his words heard. And he was right. Although Robinson had mentioned a lawyer, he never demanded one.

“Ready for another round, Kid?”

“Of course.”

“You recognize these?” Jack held up a small video recorder and the audio piece in evidence bags. I knew they were duplicates of the real thing. Robinson would view them as official evidence.

“You must think I’m an idiot.” Robinson’s dark skin pinched around his eyes as they narrowed on Jack. “Course I do.” He dropped his head back on the pillow.

“I thought you were going to deny that.”

Robinson’s head lifted. “And why would I do that?”

“We found these in an agent’s home. We lifted your finger—”

Robinson looked at me. “It was you? You’re the agent?”

A twitch swelled my cheek.

“I didn’t kill nobody.”

“So you admit to placing these in the agent’s home?”

Robinson spoke with his eyes on me. “I don’t even know who you are.”

Jack walked to the bags of clear liquid, likely morphine; they dripped through plastic tubes and fed into Robinson’s hand. Robinson watched him nervously, his eyes shifting from Jack’s face to his hands back to his face.