Spiraled (Callahan & McLane Book 3) (24 page)

BOOK: Spiraled (Callahan & McLane Book 3)
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“Why are the police interested in a job he never did?” Simon asked.

“Simon,” Mason said slowly. “The world thinks your friend is a killer. What the fuck is making you question
how we do our job
?”

The man looked at the floor and shifted in his chair. “He told me about the job. It was posted near the department up at the school.”

“AJ found it?”

“Yeah, someone had made a job flyer looking for guys that were exactly six one, lean build, and stated that it was for a one-time impromptu performance. We both fit the description, so AJ passed the phone number on to me. Usually I ignore job postings like that but when I called and left my number, the guy called me back and the money was decent for a day’s work. And he said it could lead to more of the same type of job. Sounded like easy money.”

“What type of job was it?” Mason asked. His ears were ringing as his brain realized they were very close to finding their answer, and he leaned forward to hear better. Every receptor in his body waited for Simon’s answer.

Simon met his gaze and his mouth turned down, his shoulders drooping. “It was for one of those surprise shows. The ones that pull pranks on your friends. The guy who posted the ad has a whole bunch of them on YouTube that are freaking hilarious. They scare and surprise the crap out of people in their offices or in public places.”

“My son loves those things,” Ray said.

Mason had caught glimpses of the shows on TV but had never bothered to watch. To him, they were poorly acted and badly produced. Ray’s preteen son seemed about the right age to appreciate the humor. Mason found enough surprises in life; he didn’t need to watch more.

“AJ was hired to do that?” Mason asked.

“Yeah, but he never got the chance.”

Silence filled the room.

“Shit!” Simon made the connection. “Are you saying AJ shot all those people and it was supposed to be a joke? Holy fuck!” Simon stood and paced into his kitchen, pulling at his hair. “That’s messed up! There’s no way—”

“That’s not what we think happened,” said Mason. “But the guy who he contacted about the job might be involved.”

“Travis?”

The investigators straightened. “That’s his name?” Ray asked, pulling out his notebook.

“Yeah, I met with him the other day. He hired me to do a prank at a local Starbucks.”

“When?” Mason nearly shouted.

“Dunno. I’m waiting to hear. He’s supposed to text me when it’s time. But it should be within a day or two.”

“Which Starbucks?”

Mason’s mind raced as Simon gave the location. “Were you told to hide in the bathroom until the job started?” Mason asked.

Simon nodded, fear crossing his face. “What was going to happen there?”

“What can we do?” Ray said in a low voice as Zander and Mason stepped close to confer, ignoring Simon’s question.

“We can close that location. Now. We can’t risk another shooting in public,” said Zander. “And if the store is closed, he’ll have to change his plans, buying us some time.” He looked at Simon. “We need the number you have to contact this guy. You know his last name?”

Simon pulled out his phone and started scrolling. “I don’t know his last name. One of the conditions of the job was that I couldn’t tell anybody about it until we’d completed filming. That’s the only reason I held back at first.”

Mason gestured for him to hurry up, but figured the guy had probably given Simon a fake name and phone number. “What’s he look like?”

“Tall. Slim build. Longish dark hair. Has some creepy burn scars down one part of his neck and on the side of his face. I think he wears his hair long to cover them.”

“Did he have any other pranks planned to film?” Zander asked.

“Beats me,” said Simon as he handed his phone to Zander with the contact open. “He only talked to me about the one. With all the setup and organizing, I doubt he’s got more than one going on at a time.”

There’re no pranks being filmed!
Mason bit his tongue.

Zander snapped an image of Simon’s contact page. “We need to know the minute you hear from this guy.”

“Maybe we should have a uniform stay close to Simon,” Ray suggested.

“A cop? Why? Am I in danger?” Simon’s voice cracked. “What the hell is going on?”

Mason put a hand on his shoulder, looking into scared brown eyes. “As long as you don’t go near that Starbucks or meet this guy again, I think you’ll be fine. We think he’s organized these
. . .
pranks
. . .
to cover up the shootings that happened this summer.”

“He fooled AJ into killing himself?” Simon whispered. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“We’ll let you know when we have all the answers. Did he tell you to buy clothes?”

“Nah, he had the outfit on hand he wanted me to wear.”

“Can we see them?” Ray asked. Simon disappeared down a hallway.

“Do we need to close the store?” Mason asked. “Or do we wait until he calls and tells Simon to move into position? And then set up a sting?”

“We have to close it,” Ray argued. “We can’t risk the chance of a shooting there.”

“I’m with Ray,” said Zander. “I’m making the call.” He stepped out of the apartment. Mason knew it was the right thing to do, but damn he wished they could set it up to catch the guy the minute he set foot near the store.

Simon came from the back of the apartment with two pieces of black clothing. Mason didn’t need to see the Nike logo.

Finally. We are on your ass. You’ll never see us coming.

Zander reappeared. “I’ve got them shutting down the Starbucks. They’ll make it look like a power or water issue. And that number Simon has is to a burner phone. We’ll trace where it was purchased and see if there’re any store cameras that recorded the sale. The phone’s already been canceled.”

“I talked to him on that number yesterday,” stated Simon. “There’s no way it’s not good.”

“You said you left a message at the original number on the flyer, right?” asked Mason. “Did he ever call you back on that number?”

Simon shook his head.

“He probably uses a new number every few days. I suspect the next call or text you get from him will be from an unfamiliar number.”

“He told me not to screen calls. Said one of the cameramen might call me, so I need to answer every call.”

Someone thought ahead.

35

Proud of herself, Ava flipped through a magazine in a waiting area at the hospital. The key to doing something she didn’t want to do was to not think about it and simply command her muscles to move. The thought of seeing Jayne made her want to vomit. But she still had an obligation to her sister. She hadn’t made up her mind if she wanted to visit Jayne’s room, but she’d at least talk to her doctor. She’d never get the questions out of her head if she didn’t ask. She’d made a call to Misty when she first arrived at the hospital, reminded that she hadn’t heard from the young girl in a day or two. Misty was back home and recovering just fine, but had stated she was done with yoga for a few months. Ava didn’t blame her.

Her phone buzzed. Mason.

“I’m waiting to talk to Jayne’s doctor,” she told him.

“How was
your
appointment?”

She heard the caution in his voice, knowing he wondered if she’d even attended. “It was okay. I don’t think she’s anyone I want to continue with, but she at least said something that’s making my legs move today.”

“That’s a start,” Mason agreed. “You’re checking on Jayne?”

“Yes and don’t ask me why. I can’t just turn it off.” She paused. “That makes it worse.”

“I know. Let me know when you’re done. Say, we got a good lead on our shooter this morning.”

She listened as he told her about filmed pranks and young male actors looking to make a quick buck. “You think that’s how he’s recruiting them? I’ve watched those shows. They’re horrible. Some are funny, but I always feel for the person being pranked.”

“It’s our best lead. We shut down the Starbucks on Grand Boulevard that we believe was going to be the next location.”

She drew in a sharp breath. “That’s the one I always go to! I was just there!” She set down the rest of her iced drink, suddenly slightly nauseated. A shudder ran through her as she imagined witnessing a second mass shooting.
I couldn’t handle that again
.

“I thought so,” Mason said grimly. “What’s the word on Jayne?”

Ava took a deep breath. “A nurse told me the wrist injuries weren’t as bad as they expected and the wound to her spleen didn’t require surgery. They’re still watching it. She said Jayne was scheduled for a psych eval earlier today but didn’t know more. I’m waiting on the doctor I spoke to last night.”

“You sound good.”

She couldn’t hold back a small laugh. “I didn’t think I’d make it out of bed today, but frankly, knowing that I had that damn appointment made me move. I don’t like to let people down. Now I’m simply following a checklist of what I need to accomplish today. I feel like a robot.”

“Yesterday was draining.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“What are you going to say to Jayne?”

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to talk to her. I might just listen to the doctor and leave.”

Mason was silent for a few moments. “I miss you.”

His words touched a tender spot in her heart, and she nearly melted. Neither of them was a sentimental person, but for several days she’d had a huge lonely gap in her gut, making her feel vulnerable and emotional. “I miss you, too,” she whispered. The doctor from last night peeked in the waiting room, and she stood up. “I need to go. I love you.” Mason said the same and he was gone. She dropped her phone in her purse, and an abrupt loneliness weighed down her shoulders.

She followed the doctor, listening as he repeated what she’d already learned from the nurse. “What about the psych evaluation?”

“We’re admitting her for a few days. We’re of the opinion that she’s still a threat to herself.”

Oh, Jayne.

“Then what?”

“We’ll find her a facility where she can get back on her feet and receive the mental care she needs.”

Ava knew it wasn’t that simple. Insurance. Availability. Cost. Jayne’s attitude. It all mattered.

I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

“Are you ready to see her now? I doubt she’ll be responsive. She’s sedated again.”

Ava froze.
Am I ready?

“I’ll just peek real quick.”

The doctor gave her an odd look but nodded and opened a door. Ava stepped inside, holding her breath. The shade was pulled and the dim room smelled strongly of antiseptic and something sour. She passed the tiny bathroom and peered around a corner. Jayne slept. Her dark hair spread across the pillow. Relief weakened Ava’s knees.
Please stay asleep.

She stepped closer, moving as silently as possible. Jayne looked like a battered doll. Her weight was still too low and her collarbones protruded, creating shadows below her neck. Ava stopped at her twin’s side and firmly kept a lid on her emotions. She noticed Jayne’s nails were bitten to the quick and her pink sparkly polish looked as if a five-year-old had applied it. She glanced at her own too-short nails, remembering Mason’s comment.
This isn’t like you.

Her sister lay perfectly still, her chest slowly rising and falling. Ava said a quick prayer of gratitude that Jayne hadn’t succeeded and tried not to think of what that would mean for the next few months of both of their lives.

There was no easy answer. No quick fix.

Do I want to be dragged along Jayne’s path?

She was at a crossroads. Help Jayne or not. Move on with her own life or hold her sister’s hand and share the rocky journey.

Mason or Jayne?

Me or Jayne?

Why was there no compromise? Why was her only choice black or white?

She brushed tears off her cheeks. All her life there’d only been stark choices, but lately she’d tried to pretend she could have everything. Her sister, her job, her relationship with Mason. Over and over she’d told Mason she was done with Jayne, but in the back of her mind she had always known she’d jump when Jayne “needed” her.

Was she ready to choose?

Jayne nearly chose for me.

She touched her mother’s ring on a chain around her neck. Once Jayne had stolen it out of Mason’s home, but Ava had demanded it back. Perhaps Jayne needed it more than she did. She unhooked the clasp and lay the necklace on the bedside table, but stared at it, unable to walk away.

Go!

Her legs followed her command, and she left the room in a daze. Instinct guided her through the maze of hospital corridors until she spotted the sun shining through the big glass doors. She stepped out and welcomed the blinding heat, closing her eyes and putting on her sunglasses. A few deep breaths later, she’d decided she needed someone else to tell her what to do for a while. Suddenly she craved a quiet room where she could stretch and sweat and listen to her yoga instructor’s commands. She checked the time on her phone and noted she had plenty of time to run errands first.

He drove through the strip mall parking lot, doing one of his dozens of drive-bys. He could never overprepare when it came to one of his stagings. This one had the perfect actor and the perfect location. And would eliminate another abomination from his world. The police were confused, trying to figure out why young men were losing their minds and shooting up the public. They sought answers where there weren’t any and Sunday-morning psychiatrists made sweeping judgments from their safe distances.
Confused and angry young men.

It really wasn’t that complicated.

Men and women were created differently. There was no equality.

Until society embraced the right roles, there would be chaos. He was an instrument of that change.

He stomped on the brake and his head whipped forward. An electrical company employee had stepped out from between parked vehicles and nearly become roadkill. The employee held up a hand in apology. “Sorry!” he said. A large bundle of orange cord was balanced on the employee’s shoulder, blocking his view of oncoming traffic.

Idiot.

He continued across the parking lot toward the Starbucks.

What the fuck?

Electric company employees moved in and out of his Starbucks. Yellow caution ribbon blocked customers from entering the store. Three utility vans filled the front parking spaces. He rolled down his window.

“Hey,” he said to a passerby. “What’s going on at Starbucks? They open?”

The man stopped. “Nope. Power issue. Can’t grind coffee without power. I’m headed over to the one inside the grocery store.” He moved on.

He watched the employees unload supplies from the vans and stride in and out of the store. He eyed the mailing store next door to the coffee shop. The store’s
O
PEN
sign was lit up. He slowly rolled through the rest of the parking lot, watching the movement of the people. He didn’t see a single green apron in front of the store or inside. The bright-red shirts of the electric company moved behind the coffee counter.

He pulled out of the immediate parking area and into a spot at the adjacent grocery store’s lot. And watched.

Activity. Lots of it.

The time his old office had lost power they’d sent one guy.

Do they know?

Impossible. He’d been too careful. He’d come back to the store in a few hours and observe again. He was about to start the ignition and pull away when he saw a familiar face drive by.

Her. The federal agent.

He watched her park and get out of her car. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and sunglasses hid her eyes, but he’d known instantly who she was. He’d spent enough time with her in his sights to know how she moved and how she tilted her head. She didn’t walk up to the Starbucks—her Starbucks. Instead she simply stood and observed.

The time of this visit deviated from her routine.

After a minute of watching electrical employees hustle, she turned to survey the lot, slowly scanning each vehicle. He ducked down behind his steering wheel, holding his breath. His skin started to heat and his lungs seized.

She knows.

Fucking bitch federal agent.

Who had told her? Simon? He shook his head. Simon was ecstatic to participate in his game. There was no way he would have gone to the police; he had no cause. The woman couldn’t have figured out this was the next location on her own.
Could she?
He stayed low in his car, thoughts ricocheting in his brain, his anger escalating.

She did this. She interfered again. Choosing to make an example out of her was the right thing to do.

“How dare she think she can mess with me!” Fury blurred his vision.

He risked a peek over his dash, spotted the back of her head, and eased back into his seat. His anger stewed in his gut, souring his stomach, but he made himself focus.
I can handle this.
The federal agent watched the activity for another moment, nodded as if satisfied, and got back in her vehicle. He started his car and followed her out of the lot.

Time for the backup plan.

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