“Of course I could manage it, but that’s me.”
I grinned. Toni probably could. “We’re in a holding pattern until we find this Stuart character. But I still feel like he had a partner in all this. We eliminated everyone who was around at the time, but obviously we’ve missed something-”
“And Russell and Dani didn’t tell anyone about it?”
“So they say. But everyone and his brother was running in and out of their house the whole time. And Russell and Dani were a mess. Who knows what they might’ve inadvertently leaked? And who knows where Russell might’ve put down his cell phone?”
Toni had a skeptical look. “Something about all this doesn’t sit right with me.”
This is why Toni and I always talk our cases over with each other. It’s not just a friend thing, it’s a practical necessity. Because when we’re running hard on a case, we can get mired in the details and miss the big picture. We’ve helped/saved each other this way too many times to count. Now, Toni’s remark made me stop and take stock. I thought about what we’d seen and heard since we first met with Russell and company. I’d assumed someone in the house had to have gotten wind of what was going on in order to know in advance where the money drop was supposed to be. That wasn’t a bad assumption-in fact, it was pretty logical. But Toni was right. There was something off about the whole scenario, because Brian and Hayley wound up on Boney Mountain-not in Fryman Canyon.
I sighed and shook my head. “I agree with you, Tone. This machine is missing some parts for sure. I just don’t know what they are.”
“Bet your buddy Stuart does.”
“If we ever find him.”
My cell phone played the opening bars of “Killer Joe,” an old jazz standard that was Bailey’s ringtone.
“Dorian’s finished with Hayley’s cell phone,” Bailey said without preamble.
“Pick me up.” I told her where we were.
We dropped Toni at the courthouse and promised to give her updates. Dorian was in her office typing a report. We stood in the doorway and waited for her to look up.
She peered at us over her reading glasses. “Sit.”
We obediently sat, and I waited to see if she’d add, “Stay.” She didn’t. When she finished typing, she passed the phone, now encased in a paper bag, to us.
“I’ve got prints, some of which I’m sure will come back to Hayley, since the settings indicate it was her phone.”
At last, something had broken our way. Bailey pulled on gloves, opened the bag carefully, then removed the phone and turned it on. After a few seconds she said, “I don’t see any voice mails at the time of the kidnapping or later.” She touched a few other places on the phone. “But I do see text messages. A lot of them.”
I leaned in anxiously and tried to read the screen.
“Here,” Bailey said. She placed the phone on Dorian’s desk where we could all see it.
The first text was from BRIAM-we’d verify, but it was most likely our Brian, the M at the end for his last name, Maher: still waiting for drop. stay in car.
The next message was from Hayley to Brian, and it was sent three minutes later: what’s going on?
It was eerie, reading Hayley’s last texts. Like hearing a voice from the grave. And it was painful, seeing that little pink phone-small and vulnerable, like Hayley.
Brian didn’t answer. Two minutes later, Hayley texted him again: u should be done by now! Where r u?
Still no answer from Brian. Hayley texted again, this time three minutes later: what’s going on???
With each text, I could feel her rising panic.
Again, no answer from Brian. Four minutes later, Hayley texted him: r u ok?
No response. Five minutes later, Hayley tried again: where r u??? what’s happening??
Then, finally, four minutes later, Brian texted Hayley: I’m ok. All clear. Meet me on trail.
“That was the last message,” Bailey said.
“Do you remember when Brian’s phone was used for the last time?” I asked Bailey.
“I have to check his cell phone records again…I think there was a call around the time of that last message. But I’m not sure. I know there wasn’t much activity after the ransom demand.”
“We never did find Brian’s phone, did we?” I asked.
“No,” Bailey replied.
The picture forming in my mind was chilling, but it made the most sense. “We’ll have to get the cell sites to make sure, but I’m betting these texts were all sent on that mountain.”
Bailey picked up the phone and stared at the messages again. “A twenty-one-minute lapse between Brian’s first message-”
“Telling Hayley not to leave the car,” I said. “And his last message. In between, Hayley texted him five times. But she got no response-”
“Until that last text, telling her to come out to the trail. But Brian never made it back to that trail.”
“That last message doesn’t fit.”
We fell silent for a long beat.
Bailey said, “Then that last message…”
“Was sent by our killer. He murdered Brian, then lured Hayley out.”
31
“I’ll get hold of my contact and find out what cell sites got pinged.” Bailey put the phone back into the bag. “Thank you, Dorian.”
“It is my job, you know. And now I’ve got a shocker for you: yours isn’t my only case.” She waved her hand toward the door. Bailey and I picked up on the subtle cue and left.
The sun beat down from a cloudless sky and I could feel the heat of the asphalt through my sandals as we crossed the parking lot. I told her about Toni’s reaction.
“I agree,” Bailey said. “There is something off about all this.”
“I’m sure the kidnapping was initially just Brian and Hayley-”
“That part feels right.”
“And that means we have to be right about someone else jumping into the mix after the first note was sent,” I said.
We got into the car and Bailey cranked up the AC.
“All we can do is keep working the Stuart Connor angle. He’s the only hot lead we’ve got right now,” Bailey said. “I’ve got everyone trying to run him down from our end while NYPD works theirs.”
“Problem is, I don’t remember seeing the name Stuart Connor anywhere around Russell’s entourage so far-”
“It wasn’t. Which means we hit the next group just outside Russell’s inner circle and keep moving out from there.”
Bailey pulled out of the lot. “I suggest we hit the studio first.”
“That’ll probably give us the most bang for our buck. But we’re going to have to move fast-”
Bailey nodded, her expression grim. “Yeah, it’s over three days since Rostoni found him. Brian’s death won’t keep for much longer. And once it gets out, Stuart Connor’s going to know his cover’s blown and take a powder.”
“If he hasn’t already.”
“Right.”
Bailey floored it and neither of us said another word until she pulled up to the security guard shack at Russell’s studio. The guard, whose nametag told us he was Franklin Yarberger, was a shrunken, hawk-nosed man with weathered-looking skin who studied our badges, photos, and faces as though he were playing a game of Count the Differences. Finally he nodded. “I’ll call Russell’s office, let ’em know you’re here.”
But Bailey held up a hand and signaled for him to get closer. He leaned down and squinted at her. Bailey kept her tone low and confidential. “You know we’re the ones working Hayley’s murder, don’t you?”
“Yeah. You seem to match up.”
“Well, we need to keep this low-key. Don’t want to alarm or…tip anybody. Know what I mean?”
No one, I repeat, no one, plays the “just between us cops” card better than Bailey. It worked best with the wannabe’s, but I’d seen it work with retired officers too. I made Franklin as the latter. It’s the suspicious eyes. Always a dead giveaway.