The Night Fire (Renée Ballard, #3)(102)

“Her walk.”

“She’s intoed. You can see it in both videos. Does that mean anything to you?”

“‘Intoed’? Nope. I don’t even know what it means.”

“Okay, then what can you tell me about the Laurie Lee Wells case? Have you identified the woman who took her identity? You work in organized crime. I have to assume her case has been folded into something bigger.”

“Well, we have some organized groups here who engage in identity theft on a large scale, so a lot of that comes through our office. But with the Wells case we took it because it fit with a location we’ve been looking at.”

“The Devil’s Den.”

Kenworth was silent, pointedly not confirming Ballard’s supposition.

“Okay, if you don’t want to talk about the Devil’s Den, then let’s talk about Batman,” Ballard said.

“‘Batman’?”

“Come on, Kenworth. Dominick Butino.”

“That’s the first time you’ve mentioned him. How is he part of this?”

“The law firm that connects all of this also repped Butino on a case over here. They won it. Let me just ask you, Detective, since you’re in OCI—have you ever heard of a woman hitter, maybe working for Butino or the Outfit?”

As was becoming routine, Kenworth didn’t answer right away. He seemed to have to carefully weigh every piece of information he eventually gave Ballard.

“It’s not that hard a question,” Ballard finally said. “You either have or you haven’t. Your hesitation suggests you have.”

“Well, yeah,” Kenworth said. “But it’s more rumor than anything else. We’ve picked up intel here and there about a woman who handles contracts for the Outfit.”

“What are the rumors?”

“We had a guy—a connected guy—come out here from Miami. He ended up dead in his suite at the Cleopatra. The casino surveillance cams showed him going up with a woman. The scene looked like a suicide—he sucked down a bullet. But the more we looked into it, the more we think it was a hit. But that was nine months ago and we haven’t gotten anywhere with it. It’s gone cold.”

“Sounds like our girl. I’d like to see the video.”

Kenworth gave that his usual pause.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Ballard prompted. “We can help each other here. If it’s the same woman, we have something big. Give me your e-mail and I’ll send you what we’ve got. You send me what you have. This is what cooperating police agencies do.”

“I think that will be all right,” Kenworth finally said. “But we don’t have her face. In a city of cameras, she seemed to know where every one of them was placed.”

“Same here. What’s your e-mail? I’ll send you the first video. You send me back yours and then I’ll send you our second. Deal?”

“Deal.”

After disconnecting, Ballard uploaded the video from Mako’s that showed the suspect buying the bottle of Tito’s and using the ATM. On the e-mail to Kenworth, she wrote Black Widow in the subject line because that was the name Ballard had come up with for the dark-haired, darkly dressed version of the suspected killer.

Kenworth carried his telephone manners into his e-mail etiquette: after a half hour, Ballard had received nothing in return from the Las Vegas detective. She was beginning to feel she had been ripped off and was about to call him when a return e-mail came in with the Black Widow subject line. It had two videos labeled CLEO1 and CLEO2 attached. The only message in the e-mail said: “The car in CLEO2 was stolen, set on fire in Summerland.”

Ballard downloaded and watched the videos.

The first was a camera trail that showed a man in a Jimmy Buffett shirt playing blackjack at a high-roller table at the Cleopatra. Ballard assumed he was the victim-to-be. The woman sitting next to him was not playing any hands. She had long and full blond hair that appeared to be a wig. Its thick bangs acted like a visor, shielding her downward-tilted face from camera capture.

The man cashed in his chips, then the camera angles changed as the couple left the table and headed to the elevator reserved for tower suites. The woman kept her head down and away from any camera. She carried what appeared to be a large white overnight bag slung over one of her shoulders and she was wearing black parachute pants and a halter top. The last capture shown on the video was the couple in the elevator, the 42 button on the panel glowing as they rode up. The time stamp on the elevator shot showed them getting off on the forty-second floor at 01:12:54 and then the video ended.

Ballard went to CLEO2. This video began with the elevator camera and a time stamp of 01:34:31 and showed a woman getting aboard on the forty-second floor. She was wearing a wide-brimmed hat that totally obscured her face. Only a small fringe of black hair could be seen going down her back. She was wearing black slacks, blouse, and sandals. The overnight bag strapped over her shoulder was black but had the same dimensions as the one seen in the CLEO1 video.

The woman got off the elevator at the casino level and the cameras followed her through the vast gaming space and out the doors to a parking garage. She walked down a parking aisle, got into a silver Porsche SUV, and drove away.

Thanks to Kenworth’s message, Ballard knew the fate of the Porsche.

Ballard reversed the video and watched the woman walk down the parking aisle again. She noted the gait was slightly intoed.