20th Victim (Women's Murder Club #20)(44)
Cindy liked him, respected him, and was anxious to get his thoughts on the anonymous email and its writer who called out the “new war on drugs.”
When Cindy entered Tyler’s office and saw McGowan, she had a visceral reaction. Why was the nervy Chronicle cub in Tyler’s office?
What kind of meeting included the two of them? She flashed on him prowling around, his leaking her news to the competition, showing signs of marking her territory for future acquisition.
She said “Hey” to McGowan, “Morning, Henry” to her boss, and took a seat next to McGowan on the edge of the leather sofa. She hoped that Tyler wasn’t going to give her hell for airing an unconfirmed story with McGowan in the room.
Tyler said, “Cindy, I just saw your interview. Well done. I’ve got to ask if you’ve got confirmation that your tipster has an actual connection to the shooters.”
“Not yet, but then again, he called me, Henry, a few minutes ago. He disguised his voice and used a throwaway phone, but he let me know that there’d been a shooting in Chicago. Same kind as the others. One kill shot from a distance. I sent you a memo.”
“Sorry, I missed it.”
“I posted the article on my blog. We broke it first.”
Tyler said, “A solid verification and in that order? Victim of a shooting. Call from your source, and that shooting is confirmed?”
She nodded yes, and Tyler said, “Okay. Very good. Two scoops in one hour. Nice work, Cindy. You’re on a great streak.”
He smiled at her from behind his desk, then said, “I called you both in because the SFPD still has nothing on the Jennings murder, and likewise, the Baron case is getting cold. Also, Houston and San Antonio have nothing on their victims. I want you two to work together. See if you can’t get something on what appears to be a cabal of military-grade killers.
“McGowan, report to Cindy on this and make yourself useful.”
“Yes, sir,” McGowan said.
“Cindy, you still have my mobile number?”
“Tattooed on the palm of my hand.”
Tyler smiled.
“Go get ’em,” he said.
CHAPTER 65
MCGOWAN HELD THE door for Cindy, and as they made their way around the newsroom together, Cindy couldn’t help but notice that McGowan was high on enthusiasm.
“Wow, Cindy. Look. I’m going to help you in every way I can. I’m your guy.”
“You asked Henry to give you this assignment, right?”
“Wait, Cindy. He said that we should work together, didn’t he? In my mind, we’re on track to land the story of the year.”
He gave her an undeniably winning smile, which Cindy did not return. She thought, We, huh? but said, “Okay, then.”
Once inside her office, she closed her door and called Richie.
“This is an official on-the-record call,” she told the man she loved. “Got anything on the dead man shot on the Riverwalk in Chicago at the crack of dawn? Anything at all?”
He said, “We’re working with Chicago PD. I can only tell you this as my friend and lover. Confidentially, Cindy. Okay?”
“Damn it. I mean, okay.”
“Chicago police have a suspect in custody. As soon as I’ve got something I can talk about, I’ll call you first.”
Cindy said, “Gee, Richie. I can never thank you enough.”
He laughed, said, “Be good.”
She clicked off, swiveled her chair so she was looking out over Mission Street rather than through her office wall at McGowan’s cube only twenty feet away. The killer or killers had committed the Chicago murder less than four hours ago.
The story was so hot it was sizzling.
The combined killings amounted to a killing spree that was unprecedented in style and geographic range. It had started here in San Francisco. Her beat.
And now the fear and fascination with this peripatetic shooting gallery had galvanized the country.
Who would be next?
Cable news, even the president, had weighed in on this spate of assassinations. “We’re a nation of laws,” the White House spokesman had said. “We deplore vigilantism. Innocent people will be killed, and they are all innocent—until proven guilty by a court of law.”
Cindy agreed in principle, and she still had a job to do.
She had to unlock this story.
She went to her doorway and called out to McGowan, who stood up and came over to her.
“Jeb, work on this morning’s Chicago victim. Who, what, when, where, and if you uncover a shiny new why, that would be great. Then, separately, build a timeline starting with Jennings. Next, the Barons. Roccio. Peavey. The three Texas victims. Today’s guy, too. Profile of each. We’ll update this timeline, keep running it as a sidebar—”
McGowan held up his phone.
“Chicago victim’s name is Patrick Mason.”
“Good. Follow up and I’ll reach out to Houston. See if the killers there had the same MO.”
McGowan smiled and did a pretty good imitation of Henry Tyler, saying, “Go get ’em.”
CHAPTER 66
CINDY WAS IN a fury when she sat back down at her desk.
Jeb mocking Henry. That snotty kid.