Cold Snap (23 page)

Lucy looked at them. She took tweezers from Harris’s bag and collected several of the larger splinters from the wound and put them in a vial, then labeled it. “The weapon could still be outside,” she said.

“And we’re not going to find it tonight. It’s buried, but I’ll lead a security team tomorrow morning when there’s light. Kate, can you call security and have them keep a guy on that door all night?”

Kate stepped aside to make the call. Harris gently turned the victim’s head back, then pulled the sheet over her face. Lucy liked the older detective. Even though he was burly and a bit on the brusque side, he had gentle hands and took great care with the two victims in front of him.

He searched her body for identification. He found a hotel card key, but no ID—not uncommon. He bagged it and said to Kate, “I need the hotel to run this card key.”

“Not a problem. At least it’s more than we have on the first victim.”

Kate introduced Dillon to Detective Harris, then said to Lucy, “You told me on the phone you found out something interesting about St. Paul?”

“Who’s St. Paul?” Harris asked.

“We believe he used his company to rent a room in the hotel, the room with the blood spatter. We can’t locate him, but his luggage was checked with the concierge,” Kate said. “I’ve also talked to staff who’ve interacted with him, and the only thing we’ve learned is that he spent most of the three days in his room.”

“But he checked out, correct?” Harris said.

“Yes, noon today. I planned to contact Homeland Security to check his flight status, but since his luggage was left here—” She looked at Lucy. “Was it time-stamped?”

“Five hours after he checked out.”

“So he could have gone to the airport, realized he couldn’t get out, and returned, but they had no rooms available.”

“What did you learn about St. Paul?” Harris asked Lucy.

“He was being stalked by an ex-girlfriend. I don’t have her name, but I have his lawyer’s name and number.” She pulled out a piece of paper. “A recent girlfriend named Denise, no last name, broke up with him a few months ago because his ex was stalking her. She said in an e-mail that she was terrified for her life.”

“Maybe St. Paul decided to take matters into his own hands.”

“And kill two women?”

“Maybe they’re not connected,” Harris said.

Lucy said, “I couldn’t help but notice these two victims are both blond and under thirty. And so is Denise, James’s scared girlfriend.”

“What, you think James St. Paul is a serial killer targeting blondes?” Kate said. She wasn’t joking, either.

“I think we need more information,” Lucy said cautiously. She didn’t want to indulge in speculation that might influence how they investigated these two deaths.

Dillon spoke up for the first time. “I know what Lucy is thinking. She suspects the stalker ex-girlfriend.”

“That makes no sense,” Kate said. “Maybe if she went after St. Paul, but randomly targeting blondes?”

Kate needed facts. Everything had to make sense, and on the surface, nothing made sense about these murders.

“These two victims have very similar looks and builds,” Lucy said. “The one photo I found on St. Paul’s computer was primarily scenery. Denise was in the picture, but she was without makeup, casual, in the background. It was on a lake, and these blondes, at first glance, might pass for her. Especially if his ex-girlfriend had only looked at the picture and didn’t have a copy.” Lucy turned to Harris. “If it’s all right with you, Detective, I’d like to turn over St. Paul’s laptop to a computer expert who might be able to pull more information.”

He said to Kate, “The same guy who found out that the hotel’s camera system was compromised?”

“That’s him,” Kate said. “Do it, Luce, and send me the lawyer’s information. I’ll see if we can track him down and find out what’s going on with St. Paul.”

The door opened abruptly and a tall, lanky man stood stone-faced on the threshold. The manager, Lynn Thomsen, was behind him looking worried. “Sir—let me get the detective.”

“I want to know if that’s my wife!” His voice cracked.

Detective Harris approached. “Sir, what’s your name?”

“Martin Katz. My wife was in the Jacuzzi and didn’t come back to the room. I couldn’t find her—and then I saw all the people, and the hotel wouldn’t tell me anything! Is she okay? Is she in the hospital? Why won’t anyone tell me what’s happening!”

“Sir, I’m Detective Harris with Denver PD. Was your wife in the Jacuzzi at approximately ten-thirty this evening?”

“Yes! I told the manager that! She left for her workout, and then to relax in the pool. I wanted to sleep. We’re driving to my parents’ in the morning; they live in Colorado Springs, and with these roads…” His voice trailed off. “What happened?” he demanded.

Harris nodded to Abby to turn down the sheet on the strangulation victim. Katz rushed over and stared, then his knees buckled and he grabbed the table.

“No.”

Lucy went to his side and helped support him, taking him to a chair lined up against the wall.

“No,” he repeated. “No, no, no.” His voice cracked. “Maggie’s a great swimmer. How?”

“She was murdered, Mr. Katz,” the detective said bluntly. He was watching Katz for a reaction—any reaction might indicate whether he was involved in his wife’s death.

Katz looked up at the detective blankly, as if he didn’t hear a word. “She’s a terrific swimmer,” he repeated. “Did she hit her head? Why didn’t anyone help her?”

Harris went on and asked, “Do you have anyone who can verify that you were in your room this evening?”

Katz didn’t react. Lucy realized the fact that his wife had been murdered hadn’t sunk in. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“You said that your wife went to the gym this evening, and you stayed in the room.”

“Yes, I said that. But—”

“What time did she leave the room?”

He blinked and said, “I don’t know. After nine. I was half asleep. I’d been driving all day in this weather, and I needed to crash. Oh, God, I should have been there with her. I could have helped her.”

“When did you realize she was missing?”

“I woke up at eleven-thirty, and she wasn’t back. I called her cell phone. I thought she might have gotten something to eat. She didn’t answer. I started looking around. I went to the gym. Security was there. It took me nearly an hour to get the manager to finally talk to me!” His voice was escalating. “Tell me what happened!”

“Your wife appears to have been strangled or intentionally drowned,” Harris said. “We’ll know more after the autopsy, but the coroner won’t be able to get here until morning.”

Lucy watched the information hit Katz and sink in. He shook his head. “Everyone loves Maggie. No one would hurt her. It was an accident. It had to be. An awful accident.” His eyes closed tight and his body shook with emotion.

“As I said, we’ll know more when the coroner arrives. In the meantime, I’ll ask security to escort you to your room. Let them know if you need anything.”

Katz didn’t want to leave, but eventually Harris got him to go with security without resorting to threats.

“He didn’t do it,” Harris said emphatically. “Of course, we’ll have to look at his background, money issues, but he seems genuinely in shock.”

“I concur,” Dillon said. Lucy had almost forgotten he was in the room—Dillon had an uncanny way of observing unobtrusively.

Harris said, “I’m going to talk to security and see what their resources are. I don’t want to cause a panic, but we have to make sure that the guests know that they need to be careful, not go anywhere alone.” He held up the card key he’d found on their frozen Jane Doe. “I’m going to find out what room this belongs to, maybe we’ll get an ID on our second victim.”

“First victim,” Lucy corrected. “She definitely died earlier this evening.”

“How can you tell? She was outside for a long time.”

“I worked at a morgue for a year, I can extrapolate based on what I know about weather conditions and decomposition. I suspect she was killed before ten
P.M.
, and we know Maggie accessed the gym at nine-thirty
P.M.
”

“And,” Kate added, “we have witnesses who saw her on the treadmill around ten in the evening.”

“She knew the pool closed at eleven. She probably jumped in after her workout, then warmed up in the Jacuzzi.” It was something Lucy did whenever she had access to a pool. “The killer was either in the Jacuzzi and didn’t appear to be a threat, or came up to her after she entered. Another hotel guest, nothing to worry about,” Lucy said, putting herself in Maggie’s shoes. “Might have exchanged hellos or something innocuous. Kate, do we have the key cards yet that accessed the gym before and after Maggie?”

“Yes, there are only twenty-four, so we can run them down very quickly. We already interviewed those who were in the gym when we arrived. There are nine we need to track down and talk to.”

“One of the flaws in the card key system is that anyone can walk in on a master key, or follow someone in who has a key,” Harris said. “Most people in hotels, especially nice places like this, don’t think about it, but if someone didn’t want to be tracked, they could easily move around without having to use any identifying card key.”

“Or steal a key,” Lucy said. “Most hotels give two keys per room, even if there’s only one guest. It’s easy to misplace one, or think you lost it.”

“It’s easy to use anyone’s key for public areas,” Kate said.

“Any word on the missing stabbing victim?” Harris asked.

“Security has been searching the hotel, but so far nothing.”

“Let’s talk to them again. Dead people don’t just disappear,” Harris said with irritation.

Kate said, “Dillon, can you stay here with Abby? Make sure there’s no trouble.”

“Of course,” he said.

“And, Lucy, let us know if Sean gets anything off St. Paul’s computer.”

Lucy left to bring James St. Paul’s computer to Sean. He was leaning back in a chair in the security office, watching the monitors with half-closed eyes. “I just got the oddest call from your brother.”

“Patrick?”

“Yep. He just sent me a message to be on call for something technical. But I haven’t heard back from him.”

“What’s he doing?”

“I have no idea.”

Lucy put St. Paul’s laptop next to Sean. “I think St. Paul’s ex-girlfriend is stalking him. He stopped using his e-mail for anything personal two months ago, and I read some of the messages that made me think he thought she was spying on him via the computer.”

Sean sat up, wide-eyed. “This will be fun.” He hooked up his tablet to the computer, then ran a program that examined St. Paul’s hard drive. It took several minutes, and Sean chatted about Patrick and what he might be up to. “Do you know why he’s in San Francisco?”

“He didn’t say specifically, just that he was on an errand for Mom.”

“She sent him to San Francisco on an errand?”

“I know, weird. But it’s not that far out of the way, and he can just as easily get a flight out of San Francisco as he can out of Sacramento, maybe more easily.”

Sean’s eyes sparkled with discovery as he typed on St. Paul’s computer. “The guy was right, he was being cyberstalked. There’s a Trojan on here that records him when he’s at the computer.”

Lucy shivered. Being watched—especially by someone unseen—creeped her out.

“He disabled his camera two months ago,” Sean said. “There are additional programs that forward all messages he gets to another e-mail.”

“Can you track that e-mail?” Lucy asked, a wave of excitement running through her.

“Already did. It’s shut down, but I can definitely get the host and basic account information. For account ownership you’d need a warrant, if you want to keep it legal.” He worked quickly on the keyboard. “It’s a freebie account with a national provider. I can’t tell where the recipient lives, it’s all routed through multiple servers depending on traffic volume.”

Sean leaned forward. “Oh, shit. I think your theory’s right, Luce.”

“What?” She didn’t see what he saw in the rows of code.

“He may have shut down the camera and stopped using his e-mail and run virus protection software and thought he was safe, but there’s a boot code. Anytime he turns on his computer and hooks up to any Internet connection, a notice goes out to a public message board. The last time the notice went out was three days ago, when he logged in to the hotel network. Oh—this is good. I might be able to trace it.”

“You can trace a public message board?”

“Not quite—but I can upload a virus to send me information about any computer that accesses that specific page and where that computer is—under most circumstances.”

“Great. And can you find out if he sent any messages?”

“Yes, give me a little time.”

For Sean, “give me time” essentially meant “I can work faster if you’re not hovering.”

She kissed his cheek. “You’re the best.”

He grinned. “I know.” He glanced at her. “Go to bed. It’s nearly three in the morning.”

“What about you?”

“As soon as I crack this, I’ll be up. Promise.”

She left and went to the tenth floor. She found Kate and Detective Harris coming out of room 1080.

“You’re right, Agent Kincaid,” Harris said. “Definitely blood. I collected some samples and the crime-scene techs will be out here tomorrow, hopefully early.” He closed the door. “The hotel blocked all electronic keys until they arrive. I’m going to crash in the security office—no way am I driving home in this weather.”

“And we can get an early start,” Kate said. “We have a guard on our makeshift morgue, and extra patrols in the halls. Sean got the security cameras back up.”

“He also confirmed that St. Paul was being cyberstalked,” Lucy said.

“Do we have any real reason to think this is connected to St. Paul?” Harris said.

“We haven’t been able to reach him, he left his luggage here, and we haven’t found him in the overflow rooms,” Kate said. “There’s just something weird about the situation.”

“He’s the killer or the victim,” Lucy muttered.

“What?” Kate asked. “I missed that.”

“We’re missing a body, someone who was killed in a room St. Paul had vacated. He’s been stalked. He could easily be a victim. Or, he set it all up to make him appear to be the victim so he could get away with murder.”