The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)(101)
Vail explained that it was vital that she speak to Underwood. “We talked a few days ago and he told me he’d be filming until next week.”
“I’m sitting in a café in Hollywood, Agent Vail. We wrapped two weeks ago.”
A chill shuddered through her torso.
Why would he lie to me?
“Do you know where he is now? Have you had any contact with him since you finished?”
“No and no. Sorry I can’t be of any more help.”
“Did he seem to be himself? Was he stressed or acting strangely?”
There was a pause. “What’s this about? I thought you had questions on a case you’ve got. Sounds more like Thomas Underwood is a suspect.”
“No offense, but I’m the one who needs to be asking the questions here. Can you just save us both a lot of time and trouble and answer me?”
“He seemed to be himself. We film three episodes at a time, then we take a month break, and then he comes back and we do another three episodes. Nothing was unusual this time out.”
Vail thanked him and sat a moment thinking it through. Then she went back to his book and finished reading about The Planner. Half an hour later, her phone rang.
“Karen, sorry for not returning your calls. We wrapped filming later than scheduled and I didn’t even have time to go home. Had to prep for the trial on the flight from Oahu and buy a suit at the airport during my layover in LA. Headed off to Philly.”
“I’ve got some questions about The Planner.” I’ve got other questions, too, but those will have to wait.
“Yeah, I’m about to board my flight so I’ll have to get back to you on that.”
“Well—can you at least answer a few—”
“Okay,” he said sternly to someone nearby. “I’ll be right there.” Back to Vail: “Look, I’ve still got a lot of trial prep to do. Email me your questions and I’ll reply when I get a break in testimony. Couple of days, maybe sooner. You know, I did a pretty comprehensive write-up on that case in my first boo—”
“I’m reading it now.”
“Then you’re not reading carefully enough. Read it again.” The phone was muffled a second, then: “Wish I had more time. Send me that email.”
“No, wait. I need you to come—” But she realized he had hung up. She called him again and it went straight to voice mail.
Vail felt like slamming the handset down. She took a breath and went about composing her message, keeping it as short as possible while touching on the salient points of her analysis. And questions. Questions that were carefully constructed to potentially glean information as to whether or not he could be involved—without tipping him off. Not an easy task with a skilled profiler who literally wrote the book on interview techniques.
Vail sent it off, then stared at Underwood’s book.
She opened the browser again and searched for the Philadelphia court case that Underwood was testifying in. After picking through a dozen links dealing with everything from jury selection to recaps of each of the murders, she found an article from two weeks ago mentioning that the trial had been continued for three months because of new evidence.
Another lie. Shit, could Hurdle be right? One of us, a partner in crime … a mutilating serial killer? An arsonist?
If she called Hurdle and briefed him, he would likely shift substantial assets to Underwood. Was that the right move? Was it her call to make?
Vail phoned Tarkoff and told him to have officers start contacting the airlines to determine if Thomas Underwood was booked on a flight—domestic or international—and if he was, to find a reason to detain him.
Vail sat back and played the case through her mind. Start from the beginning.
Marcks’s wife’s death was ruled accidental. But what if it wasn’t? What if it was his first kill? Well, his first intentional kill.
She pulled out her laptop and opened the audio file of the 911 call that Jasmine had made:
OPERATOR/WOMAN’S VOICE: Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?
JASMINE: It’s my mom, she slipped on a roller skate, she hit her head and--and she’s …”
OPERATOR: She’s what, darling? Where’s your mommy now?
JASMINE: She’s on the floor, she’s not moving.
OPERATOR: Are you okay? Anyone there with you?
JASMINE: My daddy’s here, he’s holding my mom. He’s very upset. [Garbled] I’m--I’m scared.
OPERATOR: Is your mom breathing?
JASMINE: No. I--I don’t think so.
OPERATOR: I have your address. I’m going to send an ambulance. Meantime, tell me what happened.
JASMINE: We were in the other room, me and my daddy, we heard a loud noise, like a bang and we, we ran in and she was on the floor. [Garbled] And she’s not moving. She’s not moving!
The sound of a child wailing nearly drowned out the operator’s voice. The woman stopped talking and waited for Jasmine to compose herself, then continued:
OPERATOR: Can I talk to your daddy?
JASMINE: [Garbled] I--I think so.
There was muffled noise as Jasmine called out for her father, a disturbing hysteria permeating her voice. Frantic movement, more crying. Tears welled in Vail’s lower lids. It was tough to listen to, the pain in Jasmine’s voice. She could not imagine what she was thinking, looking at her mother’s unmoving body lying on the floor. Her life forever changed.