Fifty Fifty (Detective Harriet Blue #2)(24)

Whitt drank the Scotch greedily. His mouth was dry, his nerves rattled. And this ‘Tox’ person was doing little to settle his apprehension. Nothing about the man he was sitting beside convinced him that he was as he said: an active police officer, someone who had worked by Harry’s side on a major case.

‘Harry has been responsible for most of the hard work on Sam’s case,’ Whitt said. ‘In my briefcase, I had a copy of her notes. Whoever hit me might have been someone working for the press. Someone looking for fresh story angles on Sam’s case.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Tox grumbled. ‘I think it was whoever framed Sam, trying to get ahead of our game. Trying to know what we know.’

‘ So you think this whole thing is a frame-up, too?’

‘Yep.’

‘But why on Earth would someone do this?’ Whitt shifted closer, intrigued. ‘Kill three innocent girls, just to get revenge against Sam?’

‘Whoever this is, they were going to kill those girls anyway.’ Tox waved a dismissive hand. ‘All three girls were the same type. White, young, ambitious brunettes. No, that was someone’s fantasy. It was ritualised. Same kill technique. Same dumping ground. Whoever murdered those girls, he’s done it before.’

‘That doesn’t fit Sam Blue.’ Whitt sipped his Scotch. ‘He’s got a record, but none of it’s violent or sexual. Petty theft and drug charges in his teens. He’s been good as gold for a decade at least.’

‘Mmm-hmm,’ Tox grumbled. ‘But Harry’s got the violent streak, so the public will assume Sam’s just better at hiding his.’

The two men watched their drinks.

‘You ask me,’ Tox said, ‘we’re looking at two possibilities. The killer has decided to pin his crimes on someone, and he’s chosen Sam Blue, whether it’s for vengeance or whatever the hell. That, or the police investigating the killings have decided they need a patsy, and Sam Blue’s it.’

‘The police?’ Whitt scoffed. ‘Now you’ve lost me.’

‘You know the guys on the task force? Nigel Spader and his team?’

‘No,’ Whitt said.

‘I knew them way back when. In the academy. They’re cowboys. I got a bit of a history, myself.’ He glanced at Whitt. ‘You’ll learn about it soon enough. So I’ve seen these guys with their claws out. It might be that they came upon Sam by accident. It might be that they’ve got some beef with Harriet, and her brother naturally made a great suspect.’

Whitt sighed. ‘What the hell are we going to do to clear this up?’

‘From my understanding, Harry’s been working on the girls, checking out their autopsies, the crime scenes, their abductions, trying to look for clues there. I reckon we find out what’s happened with this Caitlyn McBeal girl. Find out what Linny Simpson’s final version of events is. Where is Caitlyn? Why isn’t she answering her phone or accessing her accounts? It’s weird. And the police reaction to it is even weirder. The cops just don’t want to admit something’s wrong there because it fucks with their Sam Blue theory.’

‘OK.’ Whitt sat up. He felt tingles of exhilaration rush through him. Hope. Dangerous hope. ‘We can do that. We can find her.’

‘Don’t get too excited.’ Tox sipped his drink. ‘We want to find her alive. We find her dead and all we’ve got is more unanswered questions.’





Chapter 35


‘THE VIDEO CAMERA they found at Sam’s. That’s weird, too,’ Tox mused.

‘It is,’ Whitt agreed. ‘The task force found the camera just sitting there at the end of the bed on a tripod. No files on it. Totally blank. And there isn’t a single fingerprint on it, or trace of DNA. How does the guy use the thing for a prolonged period of time without leaving a trace of himself on it? It didn’t have anyone’s prints on it. It had been wiped clean. Why wipe your prints off it if you’re just going to leave it sitting in your apartment?’

‘It’s a prop,’ Tox said. ‘It’s been planted. For sure. The magazines, too.’

‘And where are the video files?’ Whitt shrugged. ‘Nothing was found on either of Sam’s computers at home. Nothing on his work computer. Why take all the time to record your deeds and then destroy the files?’

The two men considered the glasses on the countertop some more.

Whitt fiddled with the gash in the back of his head. He wasn’t sure what would happen now. The man beside him looked tired, ragged, almost bored with the whole thing. But something told Whitt that he might be the kind of man who always looked that way, a sleepy old python not easily aroused into showing its fangs. Whitt wasn’t sure if this man was a police officer or a private investigator. He was itching to call Harriet and check out if he even was who he said he was.

‘It might be that we’re completely wrong about all this,’ Tox said. ‘Maybe there is evidence to convict Blue. Lack of prints, lack of DNA – it doesn’t mean they’re not there. It just means the Forensics guys haven’t found them. Maybe Blue wasn’t acting alone. And whoever he was acting with, that’s where all the pieces lie. That’s how it all fits together.’

‘What makes you think a partner might be involved?’