The Gauntlet Assassin (12 page)

“You okay?” the driver asked, as Paul climbed in, breathing heavily.

“Yeah. I almost got mugged.”

“You need a weapon.” The cabbie, a middle-eastern looking man, grinned at him in the rearview mirror.

“I think you’re right.”

Back in his apartment, Paul dumped the envelope on his kitchen table and was relieved to see a bundle of cash fall out. When he counted the hundred-dollar bills, he realized Rathmore had shorted him $1,700.
What the hell?

Disappointed, but still pleased to have another $8,300 to fund his makeover, Paul wondered how he should handle the shortage. He was tempted to mess with Rathmore’s files, let him struggle a little to explain himself in the interview. As he got ready for bed, Paul decided to let it go. Rathmore had paid $18,300 for the possibility of a better job, and Paul realized there were others just like him.

Chapter 14

Mon., May 8, 9:05 p.m.

Lara reacted first like a paramedic, kneeling next to the victim and pressing two fingers against Kirsten’s neck. She had no pulse.
Christ
. Lara flashed back to how she and Kirsten had worked together just that afternoon to shove a long pole into a bizarre door key. Now this vibrant young woman was gone. Lara tried not to think about the victim’s parents and how they would react to the tragic news. This time she would not be the one to tell them.

She spotted parallel burn marks in the V above Kirsten’s plunging neckline. Her roommate had been hit by a stun gun.

Her next reaction was pure civilian. She jumped to her feet, looked around in panic, and thought,
Oh fuck, they’ll blame me.

After mentally replaying her heated encounter with Kirsten and realizing the cameras had caught it all, Lara’s detective training kicked in. She checked her iCom, then scanned the room in a slow rotation and took it all in. The body was near the door with no sign of struggle and no defense wounds that she could see. The killer had simply come to the door with the stun gun ready and hit Kirsten in the chest as soon as she opened it. Most stun weapons weren’t lethal even at the highest settings, but they could be, and Kirsten was clearly dead. Had her attacker smothered her while she was unconscious?

Why, for christ sake? Kirsten was annoying, but now that she was no longer a contestant, why would anyone come here and kill her? A realization hit Lara like a body slam. The assailant could be Bremmer, the shooter who’d followed her here. The son-of-a-bitch might be worried that she could identify him and now wanted to silence her. Poor Kirsten had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Fuck!
Another death on her hands. Rage erupted in her chest and Lara wanted to hit something. She paced the room, trying to decide her next move. She had no choice but to report the body, but as soon as she did, the D.C. police would haul her in for questioning. When they discovered her Taser—which was on the video footage from yesterday morning—they’d keep her in lockup until she could hire a lawyer. That’s what she would do if she were assigned the case. As a detective, she’d also look for a better motive. Even though she and Kirsten had argued, Lara had no reason to kill her. She’d already beaten her in the Challenge, and Kirsten was scheduled to fly home in the morning.

Fighting back anguish, Lara accepted that the Gauntlet was over for her. She’d miss her round in the Puzzle while they questioned her, and afterward she’d probably be quietly sent home with the others who’d failed.

Lara made two decisions. One, she would hide her 9-millimeter, which no one seemed to know she had, so the police couldn’t confiscate it, and two, she would call the employment commissioner before she did anything else. If the killer really was his boyfriend, Morton needed to know Bremmer was out of control. And if anyone could or would keep her in the competition, it was the commissioner. She could still make trouble for him by telling the cops about the shooting incident at his house.

Lara didn’t plan to do that. She felt guilty, knowing she would make it harder for whoever investigated Kirsten’s death, but she would make up for it by looking for Bremmer herself. Lara spoke Morton’s number into her iCom, not trusting her shaky fingers to key it in:
It’s Lara Evans from Eugene. My roommate is dead, and I think your lover, or whoever it was that shot at you, followed me here and tried to silence me. I think he killed Kirsten by mistake.

She scanned the text, decided it was fine and said, “Send.”

Morton hadn’t responded to her last message about smoothing things over with the director, so Lara had no idea when or if she would hear from him. How long should she wait? Lara decided to contact Minda Walters if she didn’t hear from the commissioner in the next five or ten minutes. The director would not be pleased, but she would want to be informed in advance.

While she waited, Lara dug out her all-purpose tool and her duct tape. She unscrewed the vent in the bathroom ceiling and taped the gun to the side of the metal pipe. Unless cops were looking for drugs, they wouldn’t search there. Anxiety built steadily as she fastened the cover back in place. How long would she be without the gun? Six hours? Twenty-four? Lara dug in her bag for her Mace, then changed into jeans.

She waited five minutes, checked her iCom even though it hadn’t beeped, then sat down at the NetCom. She looked at recent incoming messages, found the one Minda had sent that morning, and hit Reply. The message went straight to Minda’s hotel room/office, and after eight beeps, the director’s face appeared in the corner. She wore a silky shirt that looked like a pajama top but her tattooed makeup gave her a wide-awake look. Lara felt sweaty and disheveled from her run.

“What is it, Lara? It’s inappropriate to contact me at this hour unless you have an emergency.”

“Kirsten’s dead. I came back from a run and found her on the floor.”

“Dear God.” The director’s hand flew to her face. For three seconds, she seemed stunned, then she kicked into program-director mode. “What does she look like? Has she been shot? Is she a bloody mess?”

“There are no obvious wounds. I think she might have been tasered.”

A moment of silence.

“If I had done it, I wouldn’t be calling you. It looks like random violence.”

“Have you called the police?”

“No, I thought you might want to handle it.”

“Stay in the room. I’ll make the call and handle the media.” Minda’s image disappeared. Lara thought it was odd that the director expected her to sit in a room with a dead body, but Minda knew all of their bios, including the fact that Lara had been a homicide detective. Her iCom beeped and she snatched it from the desk.

The commissioner’s face appeared in the small screen, so Lara tapped the Speaker option. “Sorry for the bad news. I just told Minda and she’s calling the police.”

“You need to keep your theories to yourself.” Morton spoke like a man used to making people jump. Lara didn’t like it, but she let him finish. “Richard Bremmer didn’t kill your roommate. That’s nonsense, so please don’t mention it to the police. It was probably Kirsten’s boyfriend or some guy she blew off.”

“I saw Bremmer in the back of the room at the orientation this morning. He either followed you here or he followed me. Someone asked about me at the hotel desk before I arrived. I think I’m in danger.”

Morton scowled. “I’ll get you some protection. It’ll seem natural after your roommate was killed.”

“Thank you.” Lara knew it was time to confront him. “The guy who shot you, he’s not really your lover, is he? There’s something else going on.”

“He is my boyfriend and there’s nothing nefarious. You spent too many years as a cop and now you’re paranoid.”

“Or just finely tuned to bullshit. Call him off me, whoever he is.”

“I said I’d get you protection.”

“What I need is for you to make sure the cops don’t hold me long enough to miss the Puzzle on Wednesday. They’ll consider me a suspect.”

“I don’t have much clout with law enforcement, but I’ll do what I can. Please keep quiet about our earlier encounter.”

“Okay.” Lara paused. “For now. If they charge me with murder, I’ll tell them everything.”

“Don’t! I have to go, Minda’s messaging me.” Morton cut her off, and Lara sat down on the couch to plan what she would say when the police showed up.

Minda arrived first, bursting in without knocking. She had a cameraman with her, as always. Lara didn’t move from the couch. From the hall, Minda glanced over at her and said, “We may or may not use this footage, depending on how this incident plays out in the ratings, but we have to film it.”

“You should stay out of the crime scene.” Lara stayed put. She wanted no part of this broadcast.

Minda turned back to her cameraman, gave him a few directions, then recorded a short segment directed to the viewers, a video clip they might never see.

The camera guy came in for a close-up of the body and Lara winced. If the killer had dropped any trace evidence, it could be ruined or compromised by contamination. This would be bad for the crime scene tech who processed the scene…if they still sent technicians out. Maybe the detectives had to do all of it now. Most local law enforcement budgets had cut everything and everyone considered nonessential.

A police officer stepped into the room. “Shut off that camera and get away from the body.” The stocky Hispanic cop didn’t shout, but he carried an authority that few would defy. The cameraman started to move further into the room. This time, the officer shouted. “No! Out in the hall. But don’t leave.”

The camera guy hustled past the cop and out the door. The officer looked over at Lara. “You’re the roommate who found the body?”

“Yes.”

“Stay there. A detective will be here to talk to you in minute.” He turned to Minda in the hallway. “Who are you?”

“Minda Walters, the director of the Gauntlet.”

“Were you with her when she found the body?”

“No. Lara informed me that Kirsten was dead, and I came down to see the situation.”

“Where were you before?”

“In my room here at the hotel.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, but I was involved in a video chat with several people who can testify that I didn’t leave my room until I heard from Lara.”

“Please go back to your room and stay there until another officer arrives and can clear you.” He sent the cameraman away with the same directions, then stepped back into the hall to stand guard. The presence of only one patrol officer at a homicide was indicative that the D.C. police had suffered similar budget cuts as Oregon had.

Twenty minutes later, two plainclothes detectives arrived, and Lara suspected the presence of the second was only because the victim was a Gauntlet contestant. The high-profile nature of the crime meant solving this one would be a priority. Her gut tightened at the thought. Cops under pressure looked for easy solutions. In this case, that would mean to blame her.

The detectives conferred with the uniform officer in the hall, then one started knocking on doors, while the other took photos of Kirsten’s body. Lara watched him work, noting the gentle expression on his face as he examined the victim’s hands and upper chest. He was six-two with close-cropped silver hair and wore a black microfiber jacket over his broad torso. Lara noticed his wide-spaced hazel eyes and strong chin, experiencing a tug she hadn’t felt in a long time. Why did she always have such a thing for good-looking cops? Because relationships with them were so perilous?

He searched the area around the body but didn’t seem to find anything. Finally, he came over and dragged a chair in front of the couch. “I’m Detective Caden Harper. What’s your name?” His voice had a hint of southern accent.

“Lara Evans. I’m Kirsten’s roommate.” Lara didn’t bother to correct her use of the present tense. “I left to go for a run a little after eight. When I got back at a few minutes after nine, Kirsten was dead on the floor.” Lara knew what information he wanted. She’d been on the other side of this conversation hundreds of times.

“Did anyone see you leave or come back?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Lara wished she’d chatted with hotel personnel on the way out.

He tapped his oversized iCom then held it out to her. “Place your thumb on the screen.”

Lara complied. She’d heard some departments were using new digital fingerprint technology, but she’d never seen it. “My prints aren’t in the system.”

“Just making sure.” He glanced at the information on the screen, then put the device away. “How did you feel about Kirsten?”

“I barely knew her. We competed against each other in the Challenge today. That’s it. I don’t have personal feelings about her.”

“You don’t sound sorry she’s dead.” He looked at her with puzzled eyes.

Lara winced. “Her death is tragic. I just mean that she was a stranger to me until last night. I have no motive to kill her.” Lara realized she had to win him over before he saw the video footage and found the Taser in her luggage. “I used to be a homicide detective. I was in the Eugene, Oregon, Police Department for sixteen years. I know what your job is like and how difficult it is to do with limited resources, but I’m not your suspect.”

“I’ve read about you online.” His big shoulders seemed to relax and he gave her a half smile. “Why did you quit the force?”

She had no intention of sharing that painful story. “I got laid off, like dozens of others.”

His eyes met hers. “It’s been a bad decade for law enforcement.” He started to say something else, then stopped and shifted back to interrogation mode. “Did Kirsten mention any problems she was having with anyone?”

“No. We really didn’t talk much.”

“Did she have any visitors to the room?”

“No. And if she was involved with anyone in the competition, I didn’t know about it. I arrived late yesterday and spent most of today in the arena.”

“What about this evening? Start with when you left the arena and tell me everything.”

“I came straight back here. After I showered, I had a video chat with some detectives I used to work with. They called to congratulate me on winning today. I had some—”