The Sarah Roberts Series Vol. 4-6 Page 40

  “More confusing.”

  “Let me explain.” He sat in one of the chairs. “The first picture I got in the mail was of a little kid in the arcade at the Excalibur. You know the one.”

  She nodded.

  “There was a man in the photo standing behind the kid. It was a full facial of the perp. The note said the man was stalking the boy and would kidnap him. Once he had the boy, he would drive him to an abandoned compound twenty miles out in the Mojave Desert where the boy would die seven days after arriving in the compound.”

  “Wow. Bold statements. Any of it true?”

  “All true.” Then he realized he wasn’t being clear enough. “I mean, it was true about the kidnapping. The compound, too. But the boy didn’t die because we got the letter and the photo. From the photo, I was able to identify John Simmons, known to the San Diego Police Department. Two priors.”

  “That’s it?”

  Collins shook his head. “There were directions to the compound in Russell’s note. I drove out there with my old partner, before your time, and found the compound. Inside, we located the boy, starving. He’d already been there three days. Then we set up a stakeout and waited for Simmons to show. He did, later that night. The arrest was effortless. The boy lived. His parents are forever grateful.”

  “Why three days? Why didn’t you go as soon as you got the letter?”

  “USPS.”

  “Huh?”

  “The letter was sent the day the boy was taken. It took a couple of days to get to us. By the time I read it, looked into the image of Simmons and matched the photo of the boy with any new missing person’s cases, I thought we had to take that tip seriously. It was twenty-four hours from receiving the letter on my desk until we entered the compound, which was some old hippie bunker.”

  “Yet you weren’t convinced of the letter sender’s veracity? Why not?”

  “Never believed in fortune tellers.” He looked down at his polished shoes. “I was beyond ecstatic that we had rescued the boy, but always wondered if the photo was sent by an accomplice who got cold feet.”

  “That’s why you’re a detective now.”

  “Then more letters came.”

  “And, are you a believer now?” Munro asked.

  “I have no choice. But now that I know it’s Russell Anderson who’s been sending me the letters, I just don’t know anymore. I just don’t know.”

  Munro scrunched her eyebrows up. “You don’t know anymore? What does that mean? Who is this guy?”

  “You haven’t read his file.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Munro shook her head.

  “His daughter, Penny Anderson, was brutally murdered two years ago. She was only three-years old. It was a tragic case.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Penny’s mother died at birth. Russell has priors. Apparently he decided to do right by his new daughter. No more gang banging. He gets a job, finds an apartment and starts taking care of his daughter. At three-years old, Penny comes down with a nasty flu. She’s hospitalized. No one knew about the crazy aunt. Russell slept by his daughter’s bed night and day waiting for her to come out of the coma.”

  “How do you know all this?” Munro asked.

  “It was my case. I mean, this is a kid we’re talking about—I needed to make sure nothing got missed.”

  “What else happened?”

  Someone knocked on the door. Other officers needed the room.

  Collins and Munro headed upstairs to an empty conference room, and Collins got them both a coffee. Once seated, he opened Russell’s file.

  “It’s all in here if you ever want to go through it.”

  “Give me the abridged version.”

  “Russell leaves his daughter’s room for the cafeteria. It’s seven in the morning. Hospital staff are changing shifts, everyone’s tired, sluggish. When Russell gets back to the room, Penny is gone. Naturally, he panics. At the nurse’s station, he learns that no one has transferred Penny anywhere. As far as they’re concerned, she’s supposed to be in her room. After alerting security of a possible kidnapping, Russell runs through the hospital and ends up outside at the front. He claims he saw a woman with a bundle in her arms running into the bush a few blocks away. He gives chase. When he catches up with her, his daughter Penny is already bleeding from knife wounds. When he grabs the woman, she slashes Russell in the face and arm. After that, she drops the blade, tosses Penny’s body aside and runs down the street, hollering like Lucifer’s inside her.”

  “Wow. Insane and sad.”

  She sipped her coffee. Collins took the opportunity to sip his too.

  “I know. It gets worse. Russell sees that Penny has succumbed to her injuries, sets her down gently, grabs the knife and takes off after the woman. Soon he collapses from loss of blood and you can assume the rest.”

  “Yeah, he would’ve been charged with the murder of his own child unless someone saw this woman. I mean, you’ve got a murder weapon with his prints on it. You’d need motive and a few other details, but once you have a body, a weapon and prints on the weapon, not to mention he was probably covered in blood from what investigators could assume were self-inflicted wounds …”

  Collins shook his head because his mouth was full of coffee again.

  After swallowing, he said, “He was definitely a person of interest, but the murderer became an unidentified subject, an UNSUB. We had only one witness to corroborate Russell’s story. No charges were laid at first. Then, six months later, the woman shows up and confesses. She lays out her statement identical to what Russell had said happened. This woman, Penny’s aunt, didn’t want Russell raising her sister’s daughter. That’s the end.”

  “What happened to the aunt?”

  “She’s dead.”

  “Dead?”

  Collins nodded and then drank the rest of his coffee down. He set the empty cup on the table and stared at it.

  “The aunt died in custody. You probably heard about it. Injected with enough heroin to flatline an NFL team. No one knows how she got the drugs inside the cell.”

  “She was searched when she got booked?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Oh yeah. Cavity search. Everything.”

  “Cameras?”

  “We checked everything. All we have now is a dead child, a confession and a dead murderer. The file was officially closed and the small task force that had been assembled was dismantled before you transferred to our city.” He waved a finger in the air. “There was always something about Russell that bothered me, though. I have no idea what it is, but there’s something.”

  “You think he did it? Maybe paid the woman off to confess and then killed her? That theory wouldn’t be a stretch if he did kill Penny.”

  “No, he’s not that smart. Besides, she really was the aunt from hell. Had a history of being committed for psychological evaluation. I just don’t like how it all went down. It’s crazy that Russell just walks in here and asks for me. I was the lead investigator on his case. I’m the guy who was trying to put him behind bars for the rest of his life. Why send me those photos and letters?” He said this last part almost to himself.

  “What was that part about your brother?” Munro asked. “Sounds to me like this dude is psychic or something, whether you want to believe it or not.”

  Collins pushed away from the table and stood. He walked to the door and stopped. “If he was psychic, why not save his daughter?” He looked at Munro. “That’s why I don’t believe in that shit. People are always psychic when it’s convenient, not when it really counts.”

  “What about that picture of Sarah Roberts? We both know she’s done some crazy shit. I hear she’s an Automatic Writer. You may not believe in that shit, but I do. I know Sarah has spent time in hospitals herself after stopping the very perps we’re trying to nab. To some, she’s a hero. To others, a fake.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?”

  Munro got out of her chair and joined him at the door. “
Russell sends you photos and notes on where to find a kid who was kidnapped from the Excalibur Hotel. You solve that case and a few others. Now he shows up and tells you to do what Sarah Roberts tells you to do in order to save your brother. I’d say the best advice is for you to listen to Russell and do what Sarah says whether or not you believe in this shit.” She opened the door. “Forget Russell’s history. Irrelevant here. Play with the cards he’s dealing. So far, you’re both winning.”

  She started down the hallway.

  “Hey, where are you going?”

  Over her shoulder, she said, “I’m giving you the privacy of the conference room to call your brother. You need to find out why he will be in trouble later.” She stopped at the end of the hall before turning the corner. “If Russell Anderson is correct, Jake will pay the ultimate price if you don’t play Russell’s game. The end result will be on your head and only your head. Russell will look like the good guy because he warned you, which seems to be something he’s good at.”

  She left.

  Collins stepped back into the room and pulled out his cell phone. He was so busy with his job that he never got around to talking to Jake anymore. The last time they talked was when Jake flew into Vegas for a work-related conference at the Venetian. That had to be at least five months ago.

  Lana answered after two rings.

  “Hi, Lana, how is everything?”

  “Bruce? Is that you?”

  “Good job. Considering how often I call, I’m surprised you recognized my voice.”

  “I thought you’d call.”

  What the fuck?

  “Turning a little psychic on us, now?” Bruce asked.

  “Hold on a sec,” Lana said.

  She pulled the phone away from her ear, followed by a clunk when she set the phone down. In the background, he heard her talking to Michael, their seven-year-old.

  Something gnawed at his stomach. An ominous feeling that something was coming and it wasn’t good. Even calling his brother in Phoenix felt wrong. He had to know what was going on, but didn’t want to buy what Russell Anderson was selling.

  A moment later, she returned to the phone.

  “Now, where were we?” Lana asked.

  “I was just saying how we don’t get together often enough.”

  “I know. You’ll have to come out for the weekend before the summer’s over. They do give you time off at that strenuous job of yours, don’t they?”

  “Of course. We’ll do that. I’ll put in for a few days and come down. Listen, could you put Jake on?”

  “Funny.”

  He frowned at the odd response. “Funny? How do you mean?”

  “He’s with you, isn’t he?”

  The gnawing grew to serious chewing. His legs instantly loaded up on adrenaline and he had to take a seat.

  “Why would he be with me?”

  “He flew into Vegas this afternoon. Said he had a business meeting tonight and that he would be having dinner with you. Maybe I heard him wrong. Maybe he said he would call you and try to steal you away for dinner.”

  He had to get to Russell again. He had to talk to him to find out what he knew. What the hell was happening? Was this payback? Could Russell orchestrate such an elaborate scheme to get back at the one cop who worked tirelessly to put him behind bars?

  “That must be it, Lana. Jake has probably tried to get in touch with me. I’ve been tied up at the station all day and night. I’ll check my messages.”

  “When you see him, tell him to call me. Michael’s going to bed soon and Jake said he’d call.”

  “He didn’t call yet?”

  “No. I’ve tried a couple times myself, but it goes straight to voicemail.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell him—”

  “Oh shit, Bruce, I gotta go. Michael’s knocked his glass of milk over.”

  “Okay, okay, go.”

  “Bye.”

  “Wait—what hotel did he say he was staying at?”

  The phone clicked in his ear.

  “Shit.”

  Jake’s in town. And he didn’t call me. And Lana can’t get a hold of him?

  What the hell does Russell Anderson know?

  Collins dialed his own voicemail. After listening to all the messages and skipping the ones he’d saved, there was nothing from his brother.

  And why is my brother in Vegas without putting a call in to me? He never does that.

  He left the conference room. He needed to find Munro. Their shift ended soon, but he wouldn’t be going home. They needed to do a search on Russell Anderson, find out everything they’ve got on him that’s current. And he had to find his brother and make sure he’s okay.

  Then he had to find Sarah Roberts and see if she was even in Vegas. Whatever it was she needed to tell him, he wanted to hear it.

  For now, he was willing to believe his brother’s life hung in the balance. Too many things were adding up too fast.

  But if anything happened to Jake, unless evidence said otherwise, he would be arresting Russell Anderson for it.

  He had video from interrogation room four that would show Russell uttering death threats to the family member of a detective with the Las Vegas Police Department.

  The same detective who nearly arrested Russell for murder two years ago.

  Maybe this had nothing to do with clairvoyance after all, and everything to do with revenge.

  Sweet, simple, cold, calculating revenge.

  Could Russell be after my brother to get back at me?

  Bruce dialed his brother’s cell number and listened as it rang until voicemail kicked in.

  Chapter 5

  The bright neon lights of the big city flashed on and off as Sarah maneuvered along the strip, weaving her bike around taxi cabs and stretch Hummers. The sidewalks were jammed with people.

  She passed under a walkway bridge between the New York, New York Hotel and the MGM Grand Casino, which was lit up a beautiful green.

  Traffic was tight, the going slow. Caesars Palace was coming up on the left after The Bellagio. On the right she saw Planet Hollywood Casino, then the Paris Hotel and then Bally’s. It was quickly overwhelming for someone who didn’t gamble—at least not with cash. There were too many lights, the allure of fast money and the high life.

  She turned off the strip onto Flamingo Road and found a parking spot to squeeze her bike into. She’d find her guy, send the text, get back on the bike and locate a hotel off the strip to check in for the night.

  The helmet stuck to her hair when she tried to pull it off. Getting used to having long hair again seemed to be a lifetime chore. It was only six years ago when she would pull that same hair out of her head, one small clump at a time. It had felt good then. Now, it just pissed her off when her hair was pulled.

  She set the helmet on the back of the bike, brushed off her jacket and swung her hair off her shoulders. The sky was already clearing, the clouds that had let go on the city earlier moving away. Stars shone down on the lights of Vegas but were lost to the artificial charm of the gambling mecca.

  She took a second to make sure no one was paying her any attention. She pulled out her gun and made sure she had a full clip, then stuffed it in the back of her jeans.

  She was ready.

  “Vegas, here I come.”

  She walked half a block to the strip, turned left and joined the foot traffic. The past few years had given her a complex. Even though she’d never been to Las Vegas, nor did she have plans to stay, she always expected someone lurking in the shadows. Some people would call that paranoia. Sarah called it survival.

  At the corner, she walked up an escalator and used the walkway above to cross the busy road below. On the other side, the Bally’s tower rose high, with water performing unique tricks in the fountains.

  At a loud whooshing sound, she jumped and raised her arms in defense. As fast as her arms came up, she dropped them out of embarrassment.

  Across the street at Bellagio, water shot out of the fountain at leas
t a hundred feet high. As she watched, the water danced to the melodic sounds of Celine Dion.

  Even from the other side of the road, Sarah stood transfixed by the free show. People lined the railing by the water where strategically placed speakers belted out the music.

  Then she saw him.

  A man with a scar on the side of his face.

  Moving her head slowly, she kept her eyes locked on him. His didn’t waver. He stood at the base of the escalator, twenty feet away.