20th Victim (Women's Murder Club #20) - James Patterson Page 0,72
and thanks, Mr. Anonymous Source Close to the Police Department.”
Bender grinned.
“I mean it. Thanks very much.”
Cindy groaned through the traffic jam on Highway 101, and after parking her car in the garage across from the Chronicle, she headed upstairs and went directly to Tyler’s office.
“Got a minute?” she asked.
“For you? Take two minutes.”
“Henry, I got a scoop on background.”
“Better than the carjack piece?”
Cindy said, “I can do both.” Then she laid out what she knew about the incident at the Sleep Well Motel.
“Get going,” said Tyler. “You have three hours.”
Cindy went to her office and set up her scanner on the windowsill. She’d gathered a lot of information on Barkley since his wife fired on police, giving her husband a chance to escape. She had a research file on the sniper victims, and Bender had confirmed what she’d heard—that Barkley had been a Navy SEAL.
At her request McGowan had gathered a stack of research on the SEALs, and now, as if she’d called him up, McGowan was at her door.
“Need help?”
“I’m drafting something,” she said. “Tyler wants to see it by six. Now that we’re working together, I’d like your input before that.”
“Okay, Cindy. I’ve checked the news feeds. There’s nothing about the Sleep Well Motel.”
Damn it. She hadn’t told him about that. He had police contacts of his own. Or he’d been snooping with his ear to Tyler’s office door.
“Good,” she said. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”
She opened her research folder and highlighted portions of the research she’d need. She could do this.
She could do it fast and well.
CHAPTER 91
IT WAS THREE o’clock when Cindy was ready to write.
Headline: POLICE SKIRMISH AT THE SLEEP WELL MOTEL.
Copy: “Anonymous sources close to the SFPD tell the Chronicle that one of the snipers suspected of murdering ten or more people in five cities in under two weeks’ time attracted the attention of two SFPD officers today at the Sleep Well Motel in Portola.
“The suspect, who has not yet been positively identified, was staying at the Sleep Well when the police engaged him. We can’t know what he was thinking, but when challenged, the suspect tried to flee. Again, when stopped, the suspect hurled a motel employee down a stairway into the police officers, seriously injuring one of them, and then stole a police vehicle.”
Moving now into the body of the piece, Cindy wrote: “It’s been said that the suspect is highly skilled in hand-to-hand combat and cutting-edge weaponry. Anonymous sources close to the SFPD have told the Chronicle that the subject is a former Navy SEAL.”
Cindy filled in the background of this elite branch of the military, who were experts in combat diving and land warfare, having trained for five years in weapons and demolition, patrolling and marksmanship and fast rope rappelling, culminating in advanced levels of tactical training.
She noted that the SEALs had come into their own in 1944 during the D-day landings, and highlighted their work in Vietnam, Grenada, Desert Shield and Desert Storm, and the killing of Osama bin Laden.
“If there are active or retired Navy SEALs in this coordinated ‘war on drugs,’” Cindy wrote, “it would explain the precision targeting and the long-distance accuracy of the killings in the early morning.”
She was ready to wind up the story and stopped to consider the kicker. She would love a quote, and Rich had been at the scene. If he even said “No comment” on the record, it would be better than no quote at all.
She called him again, begging the ringing phone, “Come on, Richie. Please pick up.”
And her call went to voice mail.
It was quarter to six. Looking through her glass wall, she caught McGowan’s eye. She put up a hand so that he didn’t barge in, and she sent him a text.
I need another moment.
She lowered her head and fired herself up to write an emotional finale:
“When the first five sniper victims were killed, it was difficult to see a pattern in the shootings or the victims themselves: a celebrity couple, a dentist taking his young son to school, a store owner on his way to work, a professional baseball player in the twilight of his career. It made no sense—until it did. The shootings were not random. There was a connection between them. The victims were all involved in dealing drugs.
“Popular opinion was polarized but over the last few days has become weighted in favor of the shooters, cheering them on. One of the shooters, self-identified as Kill Shot, sent an email to this reporter’s