Russian Hill (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 1) (13 page)

The graphic changed to a nighttime shot of the actual store in Sausalito where another reporter stood.
The police must have talked to the owner of that shop.
Jerry thought hard about what that person might have noticed about them. And then he remembered: Vicki had mentioned she had gotten the number for a cab company from someone in the store. That also meant a conversation took place. Eye contact had been made—more mistakes from his wife.

He switched off the TV right as his wife stopped her moaning. She lay under Sampson, hidden almost entirely by his muscled mass. She gave him a pat on the back, and he rolled off her. They both lay still, catching their breath.

“Did he cum inside you?” Jerry asked pointedly.

“No. I thought I would wait for later.”

Jerry walked over to the bed, leaned down and gave his wife a long, loving kiss. She smiled back at him as he pulled away, her hands still holding the sides of his face. “I love you, darling.”

“I love you, too,” he said, grabbing a hand towel next to him and dabbing it against her forehead.

“Help me up,” she said, reaching up with both arms.

Jerry pulled on both of them as she slid her legs off the bed and moved herself into a seated position. “Boy, that was fun, but I need to take a breather.” She kissed her husband once more before moving over to the lounge chair and kicking her feet up onto the ottoman. “I’ll be right here.”

Sampson was still on the bed, sitting back on his legs and still rigid as ever. Jerry lay down. He grabbed beneath his knees and pulled back on his legs, all while thinking about his dilemma. He should have been bubbling with excitement as he watched Sampson slather lube around his shaft and maneuver himself into position. But Jerry was too busy problem solving. His and Vicki’s situation had suddenly changed and not for the better. Jerry looked over at his wife. She smiled at him, unaware that her picture had been broadcast across the airwaves and labeled as the Cotton Candy Killer.
What to do?
He drifted farther into his thoughts, oblivious to Sampson’s forceful entry.

Chapter 29

It was Thursday, five days since Piper Taylor had been killed—more than two weeks for Kang’s victims, whose cases had gone cold. My investigation was the only thing breathing life into his homicides, and I had slammed into another wall. Vitaly’s unexpected suicide was a huge disappointment. Clearly he had known something about what had happened to Piper, and that information had died with him that day.

There was a glimmer of hope, though. Tucker had begun to field calls regarding Piper’s death thanks to the media’s broadcast of the Cotton Candy Killer. Some people reported having seen her at the Ferry Building near Market Street; others had seen her on the ferry itself or at the Sausalito port. None of them could place the woman—yet. It seemed as though Piper’s beauty overshadowed anyone next to her. Our mystery woman might as well have been invisible.
Is that why she picked Piper?

Case reports and notes from my investigation covered my desk. It all looked familiar, but I diligently went through the information again. In between sips of tea, I studied the reports from House and Kang. I looked over the ME’s report and the reports from the park rangers and the FBI field office out of Cleveland. Nothing chipped away at the mental wall that had erected itself.

It was a tough day at the office. Question after question fished for answers in my head, but they all came up empty-handed. When I find myself in a situation like I did that day, I bury myself in the information. I continue that approach until somehow, someway, I punch through.

“Agent Kane.”

I looked up and saw Tucker walking toward my desk, bright-eyed and eager.

“Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to update you with my progress on accessing the surveillance cameras at the docks.”

I pushed back from the desk a bit. “What did you find out?”

“Getting access was easy. I’ve already pored over the footage that coincided with the timeframe you gave me.”

“And?”

“I captured footage of Piper Taylor at the San Francisco ferry building, but she was alone. Well, she looked like she boarded the ferry by herself. The footage in Sausalito also showed her exiting the boat but again, by herself.”

“Are you sure?”

Tucker’s shoulders rose, and his voice softened. “I’m pretty sure, but I think it would be a good idea for us to both look at the footage.”

I followed Tucker back to his desk where he played the video footage on his desktop.

“This is from the ferry building in the city.” Tucker scrolled slowly until we saw Piper enter the frame.

“Keep going,” I said.

The angle of the camera was from behind her, slightly off to the side. I could make out part of her face, but the clothes and the backpack were what confirmed it for me. I watched her move slowly toward the ticket taker.

“She doesn’t talk to anyone,” Tucker said.

“Hold on. Back the footage up until right before the ticket handler.”

Tucker did as I said.

“Right there. The ticket handler—Piper doesn’t turn over a ticket to him.”

“Huh?”

“Rewind a bit farther and watch everyone in front of her.” Sure enough, everyone in front of Piper handed over a ticket except her. The man behind her handed over a ticket but not the woman and two kids. “You see that? He paid for the woman and two kids. My guess is that person in front of Piper is our woman and she turned over both of their tickets. That’s our Cotton Candy Killer, and they met before the trip.”

We watched the footage of them exiting the boat in Sausalito. Piper and that same woman were together again, except this time, she had removed her large raincoat and hat. Our suspect’s clothes and hair now matched the description from the owner at the sweet shop.

“You mentioned that she left the hostel alone,” Tucker confirmed.

“According to the young woman at the front desk, she left alone, and as far as that girl knew, had planned on traveling to Muir Woods by herself. She said it was ‘an easy trip.’ There wasn’t much time from when she left the hostel to the departure of the ferry, about an hour and a half.”

“If she stayed in a hostel, she walked,” Tucker said. “It’s not that far, and as a tourist, it’s another opportunity to see the city.”

“So, a twenty-five minute walk.”

“At the most, unless she stopped somewhere.”

“Do me a favor. Pull up Google Maps and let’s take a look at the obvious routes. Let’s see if there’s anything worth making a stop for outside of a coffee.”

Tucker moved his fingers over his keyboard and a map of San Francisco appeared in his browser. He zoomed in so we could see both the hostel and the ferry building in frame.

“Well, the most direct route is to take Sacramento Street down to Drumm Street. From there, she could travel south to Market and cross over Embarcadero Drive to the Ferry Building or go north to Clay and cross over.”

“She passes The Embarcadero Center on the way,” I noted. “What girl doesn’t like shopping?”

“I’ll find out if the Center has cameras on the property and get access. We might get lucky.”

I thanked Tucker for his help and returned to my desk, thinking how grateful I was to have a young agent who put everything he had into whatever I asked of him. Even though I knew Piper could have met this woman earlier in the week, my gut told me that wasn’t the case. With time racing, I wondered whether this woman was a local resident or someone passing through town. If it was the latter, every day was a day she could wrap up production on her show and take off. Flushing her out of hiding was my best shot and the only way I would find her. I had to keep squeezing.

Chapter 30

Kang was sitting quietly at his desk and reviewing his notes when Sokolov took a seat at the desk opposite him. “What’s the word, boss?”

Kang straightened his tie before leaning back and giving his partner his full attention. “We’ve made progress but not enough to where I think we have a handle on it and are closing in.”

“The Cotton Candy Killer. I saw it on the news. Catchy.”

“That was Abby’s doing.”

“Abby? You two are on a first-name basis?” Sokolov raised his eyebrows, furthering his curious response.

Kang waved off his partner’s insinuation that something other than work was taking place between him and Abby. “It’s not like that. We’re friends. No need to keep it so formal.”

“Friends…” Sokolov pushed up his lower lip as he nodded, his smile growing.

“Yes. Friends. You know, like you and me.”

Sokolov coughed out a loud laugh.

“What?” Kang raised his shoulders, his palms held out.

“That’s a weak rebuttal.” Sokolov squeezed his eyelids tighter. “You like this woman, yes?”

“Don’t you have some dried fish to eat?”

“I’ve known you a long time, my friend. You can’t pull the wool over this Russian,” Sokolov said as he jabbed his index finger into his own chest.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The bald detective lowered his head and steadied his eyes. “I’m like KGB. I know everything.”

Kang wasn’t interested in any more Abby talk. “How’s your task force coming along?”

Enthusiasm returned to Sokolov’s voice. “I’ve put together a good group of men—five altogether. We were able to rent a small office in Inner Richmond for our base of operations.”

A surprised look settled on Kang’s face. “How did you manage that?”

“Important case. I didn’t question when the captain suggested it.”

“What’s the plan of attack?”

“We focus on rebuilding a list of the players and start surveillance. We’ll see where this takes us.” Sokolov leaned back in his chair with both hands behind his head. “How close are you to finding this cotton lady?”

“Not very close,” Kang said, still futzing with his tie.

“You still think she killed our two vics?”

“Good question. I’m more confident that she killed that hiker. It’ll either pan out, or it won’t.”

“Maybe you keep coming at it from another angle. The captain expects both cases to be solved.”

This time, Kang saw none of the playfulness in Sokolov’s eyes he had seen earlier. His partner, as always, was a solid sounding board. As much as he liked working with Abby, he had an obligation to make progress on his two cases.

Kang stood up. “I’m heading out for a walk. Need to clear my head.”

“My time is limited,” Sokolov said. “But if you need anything…”

“I’ll let you know.”

Kang exited the precinct and headed toward Chinatown. A walk through his favorite part of town never let him down, and it usually helped him work through his cases. But that day, he also wondered if it would also help him work through the feelings he had begun to have for Abby.

Chapter 31

I looked at my watch; it was quarter to four. I had agreed to have coffee with Dr. Green at the Starbucks on Bush Street. He had sent me a text asking if we could meet Thursday afternoon. I liked Green and knew he had developed a crush on me, but romantically, he wasn’t my type. On the other hand, I didn’t want to keep making excuses.
It’s coffee. What’s the big deal?
So I said yes. Plus, the top medical examiner in the city wasn’t a bad guy to have on my side. I may need a favor or two from him down the line.

Green was already inside waiting for me and waved from a table in the far corner.

“Hi, Dr. Green. It’s nice to see you again.”

He stood up and pulled my chair out for me. “Oh please, this is a personal meeting. Let’s use our first names, Abby.”

Okie dokie
. I smiled and took my seat.

“May I get you something?”

I removed my tin of loose-leaf tea from my purse. “Hot water. I kind of have an addiction,” I said with a shrug. I sensed Green’s attempts to make this feel like a date. It was, but not the kind of date he had pictured in his head.

“Well, I’ll get us some pastries to share.”

Before I could object, he had popped out of his seat and taken off.

I sat quietly, spinning my tin can around between my index finger and the table. I wondered what we would talk about. Would we resort to the expected and discuss the case or work in general? Or would he surprise me and hold a conversation that didn’t have anything to do with a dead body?

Green returned with a chocolate brownie and one of those everything bars, along with my cup of hot water. He had already ordered himself a large coffee ahead of time. I fixed my tea and picked up a fork. There’s no way I would let a chocolate brownie sit in front of me without a taste. No can do.

“I heard through the grapevine that you like to box,” he started off.

Wow, that came out of nowhere. I can’t remember mentioning it.
“I do. My father taught me how when I was a young girl. I got away from the ring for some time, but since my move to San Francisco, I’ve fallen back into it.”

“It’s a great way to keep the body in condition.”

“That’s mostly why I picked it up again. I run as well, but boxing tends to give me a more balanced workout. And you? What do you like to do for exercise?”

“I wish I could say something impressive like muay thai fighting, but sadly, I can’t. I enjoy hiking. I love being out in nature. Not only is it beautiful, it’s very peaceful.”

“I’ll agree with you there. I try to get the family over to Golden Gate Park as often as I can. I know the nature found there is nothing like hiking, but it does the trick.”

“Oh, it certainly does. I love the park. In fact, I live nearby.”

From that point on, the conversation steered itself all over the place. At one point, we exchanged embarrassing stories about our childhood. Green’s were particularly entertaining. He had hippie parents who liked taking him on weekend camping trips to Bolinas with other families. He said there was a lot of nudity, pot and music. I laughed, hard.

“Oh my, I can’t believe you had to endure that.”

“At the time, I thought it was normal.” He laughed. “I didn’t know otherwise. My parents were, and still are, big-time nudists. That fun, magical place where we vacationed was a nudist colony.” We giggled. “I liked swimming in the pool and roasting marshmallows over the campfire at night. What about you?” he asked.