Killing Hope (Gabe Quinn Thriller) (55 page)

Marty Gunner had a handful of print-outs on the table in front of him. He looked like he’d been up all night. I’d mastered that look a long time ago. He slid them across the table to each of us.

‘This is just about everything our computers at Clarksburg have on him.’

I spun the sheet around. There was a list of dates, facts. A photocopy of the DMV driver’s license. I’d seen more information on a milk carton.

‘He was born thirty-two years ago in Jackson, Tennessee.’ Marty continued. ‘The only child of Graham and Belinda Copes. Grew up on the family farm.’

‘The one that blew up?’

‘Correct.’

‘He dropped out of the education system at the age of thirteen. Started home schooling.’

‘What do we know about the parents?’

‘Both deceased. Graham and Belinda inherited the farm from the grandfather, Nathan Copes when Ethan was nine. Records indicate they both died in a farming accident about ten years back.’

‘So he lost his parents in his early twenties.’ Shakes said with a nod. ‘And you said the farmstead was abandoned, right? So where’d he go for the last ten years?’

‘We have no idea.’

‘You mean he just disappeared for ten whole years then turned up in LA on a killing spree?’

Shakes sounded as happy as me about the FBI’s lack of specifics. Truth was, I’d expected more.
We’d
expected more.

‘He slipped under the radar.’ Glenda Hoyt sat forward. ‘We have no record of any gainful employment since then.’

‘How about ungainful?’

‘There’s no such word.’

‘You know what I mean, sister. Did he serve time anywhere?’

I saw Glenda glance toward Miles Tomlin.

He coughed and sat himself straight. ‘Not that we’re aware. The likelihood is that when his parents died and he could no longer support himself or the farm, he drifted. Did manual labor for cash in hand. Everything under the counter.’

‘So we have no current tax records?’ I said.

‘No.’

‘What about the credit card he used with the online rose retailer?’

 
Marty dealt another set of sheets across the table. ‘The card belongs to First Tennessee. Issued just after Copes turned twenty-one. He also holds an account with Citibank. But that’s just a savings. As you can see, the card is rarely used.’

I scanned the paper. Previous to the last couple of weeks, the First Tennessee card hadn’t been used since last summer; grocery purchases from a Wal-Mart in Fresno. Again, six months prior to that; another Wal-Mart in Colorado Springs. Then another six months before that; a Wal-Mart in Sioux Falls. The Feds had a list of Wal-Mart transactions going back ten years. One every six months.

‘Why only twice each year?’ Sonny wondered out loud.

‘To keep the card live.’ I said. ‘Otherwise the bank would close the account. Which is as good as saying he’s only keeping it active for a rainy day.’

‘Was it raining last Friday in Seattle?’ Shakes asked, raising both eyebrows.

‘It proves he’s mobile and able to move around the country.’ Glenda Hoyt said. ‘In the last ten years he hasn’t used the card once in the same city. That’s twenty separate locations.’

‘Why Wal-Mart?’

‘Inconspicuous.’ I said.

‘The latest transaction was last week with somebody called Rose Web.’ Tomlin said.

‘That’s the online rose retailer.’ I pointed out.

Miles shrugged a
so what
.

‘How does he pay the balance on the card?’ Shakes asked.

‘That’s where the Citibank savings account comes into it.’ Marty answered. ‘Copes keeps the balance at around one hundred dollars. Tops it up annually to cover the Wal-Mart purchases.’

‘So this is a checking account?’

‘No. It looks like all the transactions are done electronically, online from Wi-Fi hotspots.’

‘Any other family?’ Sonny asked.

Marty shrugged. ‘None that we can ascertain. We’re still checking back through the family tree. But it looks like Copes is the last in his direct bloodline.’

‘So, basically,’ Shakes began, ‘Copes is a drifter, bumming odd jobs for loose change. Does that sound like the guy we’re after?’

I had to hand it to Mike Shakes for saying aloud something that my
Uh Oh Radar
had been screaming about for the last minute. Something didn’t quite add up.
The Undertaker
was articulate. Educated. I’d spoken with him on the phone. He didn’t sound like he’d dropped out of the school system. Didn’t sound like a hobo scarping by on hand-outs. Plus, he was mobile – which meant he had access to funds or a gainful employment that saw him traveling the nation. It didn’t sound like our killer.

‘He mentioned something underneath the silo in Jackson.’ I said.

‘We’ve got people looking into it.’ Marty replied.

Shakes cleared his throat. ‘Okay. So we know who he is but not where he is. So where do
we
go from here?’

Marty looked at his colleagues, who looked blankly back at him. I knew the answer, but delayed answering.

‘We have State Troopers and Federal Agents situated at roadblocks on every major artery out of the city.’ Marty said. ‘Everyone’s IDs are being checked and double-checked. We have National Guard in force at the airport, coordinated by Federal Agents. About one hundred more agents canvassing hotel staff. Showing the Bellagio image around. We’re doing all we can. If he’s here we’ll find him.’

‘What about dirt tracks?’ Sonny said.

Marty looked blank.

‘There are dozens of off-the-beaten-tracks leading away from the city.’

Marty still looked blank.

‘We close down Vegas.’ I said.

Every jaw in the room dropped a little. One or two more than others.

‘Gabe’s right.’ Sonny said. ‘We’re working from a fifteen-year-old photograph. It’s pathetic. What’s the point of stop checks if we don’t know what this guy looks like today?’

‘We’re checking IDs.’

‘Which is great if he’s using his real name.’ She countered. ‘For God’s sake, don’t you people think outside the box once in a while?’

‘Using an alias explains why he hasn’t shown up on any hotel lists.’ Shakes agreed.

‘In which case he’s in the wind.’ Sonny finished.

Suddenly we were no nearer to catching
The Undertaker
today than we were a week ago.

156

^{___________________________}

Completely closing down Vegas would soak up more manpower than even the FBI had available. It would also cause enough political unrest back in Washington to put pressure on Fuller into pulling the whole plug. Right now there were over half a million tourists in town. Come tomorrow and Monday, half of them would be heading off home, with more on the way to take their places. A constant influx and efflux. Closing down Vegas would mean keeping all those people here, in hotel rooms booked out to newcomers. Closing down Vegas would mean keeping all the newcomers out. The operation would cause chaos on a scale equivalent to a national disaster. Was it any wonder that Assistant Director Marty Gunner of the FBI looked like he’d just learned he had a communicable disease?

He excused himself and left the room.

We sat and waited for the outcome of his phone call to the persnickety Republican whose one and only niece lay on a mortuary slab here in Vegas.

Everyone was looking nervy.

‘So let’s see if we can hammer out a connection while we’re waiting.’ I said. ‘Any theories anyone?’

‘We still working on the assumption he believes he can see the future?’ Shakes asked with a skeptical twist of his lips.

‘For now.’ I nodded. ‘Until we have something better to work with. When we spoke on the phone he didn’t refute it. In fact, he knew exactly what I was referring to when I mentioned Chapter’s Hitler Dilemma. So for now we play along.’

‘This is ridiculous.’ Miles Tomlin said as he pushed back in his seat. ‘He can’t see the future. We’re wasting time even discussing it. Let’s stick with the facts, people.’

‘We have to think like he does.’ I reminded him. ‘He believes it and therefore so should we.’

‘Why?’

‘Because that’s what’s spurring him to kill.’

Tomlin looked like he had a bee in his mouth.

‘Quinn has a valid point.’ Glenda Hoyt said to her colleague. ‘Even believing he can do such a thing tells us he has psychological issues. If he believes it enough to kill all these innocent people then we shouldn’t dismiss it.’

‘This is ridiculous.’ Tomlin breathed again.

Some people can never be won over.

‘All right,’ Sonny began, ‘let’s use his line of reasoning as a means to connect victims. If he believes they’re all involved in some future heinous act, can we determine what that is?’

We sat in silence. Deafened by the din of mental gears grinding.

I still wasn’t comfortable with the science fiction aspect behind our killer’s possible motive. Give me Westerns any day of the week. At least some degree of fact is involved.

‘Mark Roe and Sarah Gillespie were here for a company seminar.’ Shakes said, breaking our brainstorming. He was wearing a
bear with me,
I’m just figuring this out on the fly
face.

‘Microbiological Terrorism.’ I remembered.

‘That’s right. Has anyone checked which convention Patricia Hoagland was here to attend or if those kids at Treasure Island were here for a conference?’

I looked at Glenda and Miles. They were looking at each other. Why hadn’t any of us asked this question before now?

‘No.’ They said in unison.

‘Check.’ I said.

Glenda opened her cell phone. Spoke quickly to one of her colleagues out in the Situation Room.