their clothes and eat their food. That’s probably what he was doing up until the run-in with Priscilla Barton. And that encounter seemed to set something off in him.”
“After her, then Garland and the girl today, it’s like he’s got a taste for it now,” Ryan noted.
The mention of Garland’s name felt like a slap across the face. In all the excitement, Jessie had forgotten about her murdered mentor. She suddenly felt like Carl looked: guilt-ridden. But she pushed the feeling away. She was on a roll and she knew that Garland would rather her focus on catching his killer than mourning his loss.
“Yeah,” Jessie said, before adding something else that had just occurred to her. “It means something else too.”
“What?” Ryan asked.
“There’s no way this guy ran out of here in silk pajamas, only to attack you minutes later in that cabana wearing all black, including a ski mask. There just wasn’t enough time.”
“So what are you saying—that we have a squatter killing people and another guy in the same neighborhood wearing all black and attacking cops in broad daylight?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she replied.
Her mind reeled at the thought: two violent offenders operating in the space at the same time but apparently unconnected to each other. She thought she was getting a handle on the squatter killer. But the other attacker confounded her. Who was this mystery man?
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Kyle was still riding a wave of adrenaline when he got back to Claremont.
After changing clothes in Rick’s 4Runner, he was now out of that stifling black outfit and wearing a casual T-shirt, shorts, and a baseball cap. He walked into the Claremont Colleges Honnold/Mudd Library and made his way to the restroom in the Finance section. When he was safely in a stall, he texted Rick’s burner phone that it was time. While he waited, he made sure that everything was in order. He set the 4Runner key on the toilet paper dispenser and began undressing.
His body ached more than he would have liked. The altercation with Ryan Hernandez hadn’t gone as smoothly as he’d hoped. The guy didn’t look it in his cheap detective’s suit, but Hernandez was shockingly strong. Apparently Jessie liked the big boys. The embarrassing truth was that if Kyle hadn’t had the element of surprise and been on top of him in their fight, he wasn’t certain it would have gone his way. Next time he’d take proper precautions.
He was almost done when he heard the bathroom door open and Rick whistle the opening bar to The Bridge on the River Kwai theme song, the sign that it was him entering. Kyle coughed twice to confirm and Rick stepped into the stall next to him. Neither of them spoke.
Kyle slid his clothes, cap, and the key under the dividing wall between the stalls and waited for Rick to do the same. Less than two minutes later, Kyle flushed the toilet and stepped out of his stall, now wearing the khaki slacks, button-down shirt, and loafers that Rick had on moments earlier.
The keys to his Prius, along with his personal phone, the one he knew was being tracked, were in the slacks pockets, along with his wallet and ID. He checked himself in the mirror briefly, then left the bathroom and headed in the direction of the parking area where he knew his car would be waiting. As he exited the restroom, he noticed Agent Poulter sitting unobtrusively in an easy chair across the way. He nodded at him and smiled.
He was just reaching the bottom of the main stairwell in the library lobby when Poulter and Agent Cress fell into step behind him. Once they were all outside, Poulter called out to him. Kyle turned around, a broad, phony smile plastered across his face.
“What can I do for you, Agents?” he asked politely.
“You’re here at the library for hours on end,” Poulter said. “I’m wondering why you’re spending you’re time in the finance section. I think it’d be better spent in criminal justice, don’t you?”
Kyle kept the smile wide, knowing Poulter was just letting off some steam, clearly frustrated at having nothing on him.
“You know, Agent,” he said mildly, “other guys who just got freed from prison after a miscarriage of justice might consider this harassment and call their lawyers on the spot, but not me. I know you’re just doing your job.”
“Our job is to arrest you when you slip up, Voss,” Agent Cress growled.
“Slip up?” Kyle repeated innocently. “I don’t