Perilous (3 page)

“I just… I would never do anything to hurt my wife.”

“Completely understandable.”

“You know, I didn’t even think about this until just now.” He paused.

“Think about…?”

“Um, well, about six months ago, I found out that my wife had been seeing someone. She ended it after I found out, and we were working through it. We started marriage counseling a few months back. Things were starting to get back on track with us, but I guess the guy took it hard.”

If he’d had any thoughts that it could have been an ex-boyfriend, those would have been the first words out of his mouth. He was trying to cast suspicion away from himself.

“Do you know the man’s name?” I asked.

“His name is Kevin. I think his last name was Moore. I’m not a hundred percent. He was a coworker of hers, but I guess he no longer works there.”

“Is this guy local?”

“I believe so.”

I wrote the name down. “We’re going to get on that right away. Have you seen this guy in person before?”

“Once, yes.”

“Okay, because if we pick him up, we’ll need you to identify him as the guy she was having a relationship with.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. So, if you’re driving back, what time do you think you’ll be able to come in tomorrow?”

“I should be able to be there by noon.”

“Great. It’s the police headquarters downtown on Franklin. Just ask for Lieutenant Kane at the front.”

“I will.”

“All right. Drive safe, Mr. Riaola.” I hung up and placed the phone back in its base. Hank knocked on the sill of my office door and walked in.

“Updates?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just got off the phone with the husband.”

“And?”

“He says he will be in to talk tomorrow at noon. I would guess he’ll be accompanied by an attorney, or no-show.”

“Attorney or no-show? Why is that?” Hank asked.

“Just a hunch.”

“Do you think he’s involved?”

“Yup. He also mentioned a possible ex-boyfriend—that was only after I asked about his whereabouts, though. I got the boyfriend’s name here. I’ll check him out either way.”

“Boyfriend? I thought these two were married.”

“The deceased woman had been stepping out, apparently,” I said.

“So the plot thickens, I guess.” Hank walked in and planted himself across my desk from me.

“I’d rather it didn’t. It would be nice to not have anything outstanding when I leave,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it. I can take care of everything while you’re gone. So, Wisconsin and then California, huh?”

“That’s the plan. We decided to get the whole meet-each-other’s-family thing out of the way before she’s too far along in the pregnancy. That, and she figures she can get a semester of school down and finished before the baby arrives—her classes start in two weeks. She gets to meet my family, I get to meet hers, and then back to normal.”

“How do you feel about meeting her parents?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure it will be fine.”

“You and her parents will probably have a lot in common—you know, being close to the same age and all.” Hank smiled ear to ear, pleased with his zinger.

“Good one.”

“Thanks, I’ve been saving that one. Anyway, you said you had dinner reservations tonight, hey?”

I nodded. “Mulberry Chop House at seven thirty was the plan.” I glanced at the clock—it read twenty after five. “Which isn’t going to happen now. I’ll have to call Callie and see if we can get our reservations pushed back.”

“You’re not trying to hunt down this ex-boyfriend tonight, are you?”

“I at least need to make contact and get his whereabouts.”

“Let me get the ex-boyfriend’s name. I’ll shake the guy’s tree.”

“I got it, Hank.”

“Don’t worry about it. You go have your dinner with the missus. Karen is still in Virginia, so I have nothing going on.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Positive.” Hank gestured for me to give him the guy’s information.

I ripped the page from my notebook and slid it over.

Hank snatched it from me and rocked back in his chair. “Ah, these things are nice,” he said.

“Yeah, great Christmas present. You buy me new guest chairs for my office, that only you sit in.”

“Well, Christmas is the season of giving. Plus, I think they add to the room.”

“Oh yeah, they really tie the file boxes together nicely. I noticed you took the old chairs. What did you do with them?”

“I took them to the range.”

I smirked.

“Did you talk with the forensics guys?” he asked.

“I haven’t heard anything yet. I was going to walk downstairs before I left and see what they came up with.”

“What time are you coming in tomorrow morning?” Hank asked.

“Probably eight.”

“Okay.” Hank stood. “I’ll call you tonight and let you know what I get on the ex-boyfriend.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Hank left my office.

I looked over my notes and dialed Nick Waterman, my contact at the airport. He answered in a couple rings.

“Nick Waterman.”

“Hi, Nick. It’s Kane.”

“Yeah, Kane. What’s up?”

“I need two things. First, if I was in Atlanta right now and needed an immediate flight back to Tampa, how am I looking?”

“Well, let’s have a look-see.”

I heard him clicking away at the computer.

“Hmm. You’d be up a creek right now. The next flight out leaves in a half hour, but wouldn’t get you into the TPA here until tomorrow at four p.m.”

“Four? Really?” I asked.

“Yup.”

I ran my hand across the couple-day-old stubble on the top of my head. “Is there a way you could check a little earlier today by a few hours?”

“Sure.”

I heard keys being clicked again.

“The last direct flight was a little after noon. There was one at twelve thirty-six p.m. that would have got you here this evening after a stop in Miami, but that’s it,” Waterman said.

I checked it off on my notepad. “Okay. What can you get me on rental cars?”

“What do you mean?”

“The guy I’m looking into said he already had a rental car. My guess is that he got it from the Atlanta airport.”

“Um, I can make a few calls and see what I can find. What exactly do you need to know?”

“I need to know the company it gets returned to in Tampa so I can get the mileage. Also, check and see if they GPS track their vehicles.”

“I’ll check it out and let you know.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

“No problem.”

I gave him Charles Riaola’s information and hung up. As I thought about the rental car more, I realized it could be promising. I wouldn’t get anything on it until the morning, though—the guy still had to drive it back and drop it off before we could get the mileage. I put my computer to sleep and locked up my office.

I walked into the forensics department on the first floor. Past the stainless tables, I found Pax in one of the labs toward the back. I rapped my knuckles on the glass door and entered. Pax was sitting at a computer. The knives from the homicide lay in evidence bags on a table at the center of the room.

Pax pushed himself away from the computer on his rolling chair. “Hey, Lieutenant.”

“Getting anything?” I asked.

“Well, we got two different sets of prints from the house. I ran both sets in IAFIS—no hits on either. Ed is sending me over the deceased woman’s prints any second here. The one set of prints I have are significantly smaller than the other. My guess is that they belong to her. No hits on the other, but they were everywhere, so I would say it’s pretty safe to assume they belong to the husband.”

“His prints aren’t on record?” I asked.

“No.”

“Anything else on the knives?” I asked.

“Nope. Clean as could be.”

“How late are you staying?”

“Just until I get the prints from Ed,” Pax said.

“Okay. The husband is supposed to come in tomorrow. We’ll print him if and when he shows.”

Pax scratched his thin peach-fuzz beard. “Think he’s the guy?”

“He could be. We’ll get our answer soon enough.”

Pax nodded.

“Did Rick already take off?”

“I think he left about twenty minutes ago.”

My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out. The screen showed I had a text message. I clicked the button to see a photo of Callie pointing to her stomach. The text read, “We’re hungry.”

I smiled. “Okay. I’m out of here. I’ve got places to be. Send me a text after you get those prints from Ed and let me know.”

“Will do.”

Viktor lay on his two-inch-thick mattress pad, staring at the ceiling. He waited. He’d been in the ten-foot-by-six-foot white rectangular room for forty-six of the last forty-eight hours. He had been trying to sleep away the time, but his body could rest no more. The last few hours were spent staring at the ceiling or the scratches on the walls, from previous inmates. To his left sat the toilet and sink, both stainless steel. He could smell the toilet from where he lay. Above the sink, a shiny piece of metal that served as a mirror was bolted to the otherwise bare, flat walls.

Three times a day, the one-foot-by-four-inch flap in the door would be unlocked and opened, and a tray of food would be slid through. The slop they served him on the tray was almost unrecognizable. He had figured the last meal to be some kind of turkey and gravy. The only truly identifiable item of food was the stale slice of bread. Viktor would receive none of his commissary in the SHU. He’d worked a deal with one of the guards delivering food, to let him meet with his attorney. The guard agreed for a price. Viktor gave the guard the attorney’s name and number and had him set the meeting up.

With the delivery of the last meal, the guard had confirmed that Viktor’s attorney was on his way in. However, that was three hours before. Viktor continued to stare at the ceiling for another half hour. Finally, he heard the key turn the lock in the small rectangular door.

“Hands in the slot!”

Viktor stood and placed his hands through the opening.

The guard clicked cuffs around Viktor’s wrists. “Back away from the door.”

Viktor obeyed. He heard the small slot close and lock. A key turned in the main door’s lock. It swung open.

“You got about ten minutes. I already sat your lawyer in a room.”

“Is the room monitored?” Viktor asked.

“No.”

The guard walked Viktor out of the cell, and down the hall of the SHU. There was no other staff in sight. Viktor caught the time as they passed a clock—it was a few minutes past midnight. The walls were a shade of gray adding to the despondent nature of the complex. They turned left at the end of the hall and walked down a flight of stairs, also gray. At the bottom of the stairwell, the guard unlocked a metal gate and allowed them through. They made another left and continued down the hall to a door marked Interview Room Two. The guard stuck a key in the door and unlocked it. Viktor looked inside to see his attorney, his elbows resting on the green metal table. An empty chair waited across from him. The room was a stark white, and a fluorescent ceiling light buzzed with a low hum overhead.

The guard walked Viktor to the table and linked him up. “Make it quick,” he said and walked out.

Viktor heard him relock the door from the outside.

Viktor’s attorney, Yury Sokoloff, sat dressed in a gray suit with a white tie. His dark hair was slicked back. A briefcase lay on the table before him. While Viktor’s real high-powered attorneys would handle his case, Sokoloff was nothing more than a henchman with a purchased law degree. He’d been on Viktor’s payroll for years.

“Did you make contact?” Viktor asked.

“Is this room secure?”

“The guard says so, but keep it down either way.”

Yury leaned in close. His voice was low, and he cupped his hands over his mouth. “I met with their guy in charge, Ramon, yesterday.”

“How did he seem?”

“Wannabe military type. He acted professionally enough.” Yury stood, took his chair, and rounded the table to Viktor’s side. He sat and popped open the briefcase. If anyone was watching, the men would appear to be going over documents. The lawyer pulled a few pieces of paper out.

Viktor slid his chair over to make room. He pointed to a spot on the blank piece of paper. “Tell me how it’s going to go down.”

“The cop and woman are leaving out of town—they arrive in Milwaukee tomorrow at twelve forty-seven p.m., local time. I booked a seat on the same flight. They are being picked up from the airport by the cop’s sister and going back to her house. I looked at the place on a map. It seems pretty remote. We’ll try to do it there.”

“How good is our information?”

“Straight from the cop himself. We used a little leverage on someone at his department. They got the bug put on his phone last week. We can monitor his calls and track him with GPS.”

“Is there any way to tell this is on his phone?”

“Not on the surface. It runs in the background. No way to trace it either.”

“Perfect.” Viktor smiled. “Now, this Ramon is taking a team, correct?”

“Yes. Four men. I didn’t meet any of them, but he said they would be able to do the job. All of their false identities and documentation will be completed this evening. They are to pick it up in the morning.”

“Are these guys all on your flight?”

Yury shook his head. “They land a few hours after I do. I have a hotel already booked for them. I’ll get their cars taken care of when I get there.”

“And the cars are going to be placed in this Ramon’s name?”

Yury nodded. “Just like we talked about. The guy’s real name is Carlos Cruz. I’ll have a driver’s license and credit card in his name before I leave town.”

Viktor rubbed his mouth against his sleeve to hide his words. “What about weapons?”

“Erik from Chicago will bring up everything they requested.”

“What did they request?” Viktor asked.

“A couple of high-dollar sniper rifles, a couple semiautomatics, a couple of frag grenades, and a cell-phone jammer. All pretty standard stuff.”

Viktor nodded. “Were they told I want photos?”