20th Victim (Women's Murder Club #20) - James Patterson Page 0,50
out of Sid.”
Stoll looked empty. Like he’d given up everything he had to give. Richards had done a good job. I don’t know anyone who could have gotten more or better out of Stoll—not me, or Conklin, or Brady or Jacobi.
Wilson returned to the room with another cop.
Stoll said, “So what’s this now?”
Richards said, “I told you, Stoll. We’re gonna make you comfortable here while we check your alibis and your gun. You get a phone call. You want to do this nice? Or should we go ahead and cuff you?”
Richards put his hands in his pant pockets, and that opened his jacket. I caught a flash of yellow, the handle of his Taser gun.
“I’ll take that phone call now.”
The room emptied and our screen went black.
CHAPTER 64
HENRY TYLER HAD been breaking news at the Chronicle since before Willie Brown was mayor.
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.