The 20th Victim (Women's Murder Club #20)(66)

Serena went on to say that the witness didn’t know anything about the shootings or why the victims were killed. He had told her that it all happened super fast, and after the first shooting he didn’t see anything because he was lying on the pavement with his arms crossed over the back of his neck. When it was quiet and he looked up, he realized that he was the only survivor.

“Thank God he was spared,” Serena said. “And now the investigation into this terrible crime begins.”

Serena gave a hotline number and signed off.

But the Serena of right now was sitting next to Cindy, and she told Cindy what she couldn’t say on air.

“The witness is Kreisler’s son, Anton. Security guards who work for the jazz center heard the shooting, and when it stopped, they came outside, grabbed the poor kid, and let him call his mother. The security people saw no sign of the shooters.”

“Thanks for the guided tour,” Cindy said. “It’s good of you to share.”

“Happy to do it, Cindy. But a shorter version of this video went live. Every news outlet in the country has the story, but maybe you can get it onto your blog while it’s still warm. Don’t mention the witness’s name unless you can get it from someone you love in the SFPD.”

Cindy thought, That’ll be the day.

She watched through the windshield as CSI unloaded the halogen lights. They were still taking pictures, but soon the ME would take the bodies away.

“I have a tidbit for you,” Cindy said. “Before I left the office, I heard that two drug dealers were shot in Baltimore.”

“Huh. So the war on drugs heads east.”

Cindy said, “And that’s not all. The Baltimore victims were shot at different times; one at around midnight, the other at about 3 a.m. Plus, those shootings didn’t happen at the same time as the jazz center shootings.”

“I see what you’re saying. The killings weren’t synchronized,” Serena said. “The MO is changing. Where is Kill Shot when you really need him?”

“I’ve kept the porch light on,” Cindy said, “but Kill Shot has gone dark. Maybe all he wanted was a platform, some limited exposure—and we gave it to him.”

“Or maybe,” said Serena, “he’s dead.”





CHAPTER 95





AFTER LEAVING SERENA, Cindy drove back to the Chronicle, taking a few chances with the speed limit.

She parked in the garage across the street from the newspaper building, made a dash for the entrance against the light, and took the elevator to the second floor.

Once in the newsroom, she stopped at McGowan’s cube and filled him in on what she’d learned from Serena.

“I saw the coverage. Pretty gory. That poor kid. I’ll bet he was Kreisler’s son. I predict he’ll be in therapy for about forty years.”

“Jeb, have you gotten anywhere with the Baltimore victims?”

“I’ve got one name. Robert Primo was twenty-nine, killed while walking toward a gay club called Occam’s Brain. He was picked off about twenty feet from the entrance, and a bullet fragment cracked the front window. I’ve got pictures.”

He stood beside her and held up his phone, swiped his thumb across the screen, showing her snapshots of Primo. First one, he was with a group of people his age, and they were all laughing. Next there was a shot of Primo’s body lying on the sidewalk outside the club, followed by a closeup of the crack in the front window. The last was a photo of innumerable bottles of Xanax on a tabletop in what looked to be a police station evidence room.

“Tell me this is an exclusive,” Cindy said.

“Sorry, Cindy, as fantastic as I am, I got this off the net. The Baltimore Sun ran it. But I’ll keep trying,” he said. “I have faith.”

Cindy said, “Hand this off to the new intern. I want you on Kreisler. Everything you can find on him, his family, his greatest hits, and if you can get the names of his body men, that would be a plus.

“If this was a Moving Targets hit, where’s the drug connection? This happened in San Francisco. If we work fast, Henry will want this on the front page,” she said.

Cindy went to her office and opened her computer. Her email inbox was full. She scrolled from top to bottom, hoping to see an email from Kill Shot, but he still hadn’t written to her.

She opened a file and called it “Jazz Center Homicides.” Her readers checked her blog several times a day. Accordingly, she started a new thread and planned to update it as news broke. At the same time, it could run as a major story on the Chronicle’s front page.

Cindy was off to a fast start with Serena Jackson’s quotes. She gave attribution to Serena and KRON4, and added incoming notes from McGowan on Neil Kreisler’s career.

She asked the question, “If Kreisler’s murder was part of the ‘new war on drugs,’ where are the drugs?”

She let the question hang and then closed the piece with her take on the triple homicide.

She wrote: “In addition to the execution of Neil Kreisler and two men who worked for him, two men were killed in Baltimore before sunup by the same method. A precision kill shot to the head. No sign of a shooter.

“The Chronicle has been running biographies of the previous single-shot victims, and even when the victims were killed in different cities, the times of death were synchronized.