Payback, p.3
Payback, page 3
“Did our good Samaritan get their names?” Gin asked.
The detective’s mouth twitched into what passed for a smile. “He didn’t mention any names, but he did say they’re still at the twenty-four-hour mini-mart where he works. Right now he’s got them in the back room, sobering up on coffee, and wanted to know if we are going to show up to talk to them. The woman was making noises like she wanted to go home and he’s running out of excuses to keep them there.”
“Definitely showing up.” Grabbing her phone, Gin quickly pulled up a map of the area and held it out. “Where is this mini-mart?”
With a low grunt, Stroberg leaned over and squinted at the screen. “There’s only one in the area, about two blocks from here. It’s a mom-and-pop kind of place.” He let out a second grunt. “Not a big fan of these dinky screens.”
“The Sanders Market?” Trey asked. “It’s about two blocks from here, over toward Broadway.”
Stroberg slowly straightened up, one hand reaching around to rub the small of his back. “Yeah. That’s it. Clerk’s name is Thomas Gomez. He’s the one who called in the fire. The desk sergeant texted me his number. I’ll give him a call and let him know you’ll be there in. . .?” He looked at Gin as his voice trailed off.
“Fifteen minutes.” She turned to face Trey. “Did you come with Americk?”
“Nope.” Trey shook his head as he tucked his phone away. “She told me she’d been here about ten minutes when I arrived.”
“So she’s got her own transportation.” Gin sent a quick text to Americk to let her know they were on their way to interview a witness, then pointed toward the barrier created by bright yellow crime scene tape. “My car is over there. You navigate, I’ll drive.”
“Hold on,” Trey immediately objected. “You have that knee-destroying compact and I’ve got an SUV. I’m parked right behind you, and I know where this place is. I’ll drive.”
Not really caring one way or the other, Gin shot a hard look at Stroberg. “When Dr. Hedron is finished here, will you make sure she has an escort to her car?”
The detective scowled but Gin ignored it, since that seemed to be his response to everything. “Yeah. No problem,” he finally muttered. “Full cooperation.”
Stroberg might have come off as a grizzled, old-school detective, but so far he’d covered all his bases on the case, so she was satisfied that he’d make sure Americk arrived safely at her vehicle. She met Trey’s gaze and jerked her head toward the street. “Let’s go.”
Barely two minutes had passed before they were settled into the SUV. As soon as he’d pulled the big vehicle onto the street, Trey cast a sideways look at Gin. “Jones told me about the sign found at the scene,” he said, referring to the senior agent in charge of all the CCU teams. “He said it’s the third homicide to turn up with that same sign, which puts this into the category of a serial killer. The first was up in Seattle, and the second in Santa Fe.” He went silent for a moment to make the turn at the next cross street. “The serial killer theory could hold up, but Seattle, Santa Fe, and Denver aren’t exactly neighbors.”
“No, they’re not,” Gin agreed. Which left some big questions in her mind. “Unless we’re missing a few bodies somewhere in between those three points on the map.” She shifted in her seat and pulled out her cell, rapidly tapping reminders into the notes application. “We need to look for any other open cases where the victims were burned.” She paused her tapping to look at Trey. “Whether or not a sign was found. It could have been overlooked, or the guy might have added that little detail later on.” She went back to her notes, her mouth turned down into a frown as she continued to make entries. “Or only leaves the sign occasionally to throw us off and keep us from connecting all the dots. We also need background information on our club owner.”
“And his manager. It sounds like they live together,” Trey put in.
She nodded. “Yeah. Him too.” Her green eyes narrowed as she considered it since the favorite rule of homicide was still that it was usually the spouse. “Maybe him first.” She went back to tapping notes into her phone. “And we need the staff schedule for last night. I’d like to have a talk with the bartender. He’s the most likely to have known who the owner was hanging out with before the fire.” She sighed and tucked the phone away. “Which is a big ‘if’. The two victims chained to each other and that post might not have been at the club together at all.”
“How do you figure?” Trey asked.
“It’s possible one of them was an innocent bystander picked out to mask the killer’s real target.”
“If that’s the case, I’m going to go with the owner being the target,” her partner stated. “He’s got the high profile.”
“As far as we know,” Gin pointed out. “At least until we find out who the other victim is.”
It wasn’t long before Trey pulled up next to the curb. Gin glanced out the window and took a moment to assess their surroundings. The entire block was a continuous row of brick buildings, with the one next to the SUV looking as worn down as its neighbors. A long rectangular window set into the bricks emitted a soft glow from the lights inside. Stretching across the top of the window frame was a faded wooden sign with “The Sanders Market” spelled out in black letters.
A dark-haired man, wearing a white apron that covered the entire length of his body, appeared in the window. He leaned against the glass and cupped his hands around his face, peering out toward the SUV. Gin exited the vehicle and lifted the hem of her jacket to reveal the gold badge attached to her belt.
The man’s face vanished, then a moment later the front door was pushed open and he stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Gin strode across the distance between them, stopping a few feet away. “Mr. Gomez?” At his nod, she held out her hand. “I’m Special Agent Reilly.” He reached out to take the offered handshake just as Trey joined them. “And this is my partner, Special Agent Robard. We understand you called in the fire a few blocks over?”
“Yes. At the Oasis.” His shoulders relaxed and the note of relief in his voice was reflected in his deep brown eyes. “That’s what Thunder and Echo told me.” At Gin’s skeptical look, he held his hands out, palms up. “That’s what they told me their names were. He’s Thunder and she’s Echo. The two of them came stumbling into the store, holding each other up and screeching at me to use the store’s phone. They said that club over on Wynkoop Street was on fire, and someone running out of it almost knocked them down before taking off in some fancy car. It took me a few minutes to believe them, but I finally called it in, figuring I’d hold them here somehow, and if they were lying, they could explain it to the cops.” He made a slight whistling noise as he sucked in a breath. “I guess they weren’t lying. At least that’s what the cop told me when I called the police department. And then some detective called and said a couple of FBI agents were coming to see me.” He rubbed his hands down the sides of his apron as his gaze darted between Gin and Trey. “All I did was call 911. I don’t know anything else about the fire.”
“We appreciate that, Mr. Gomez,” Gin said. “And that you’ve kept an eye on, um, Thunder and Echo. Where are they now?”
The clerk stepped back and held the door open for them. “I put some chairs in the back storeroom and brought them a pot of coffee and a couple of cardboard cups.” He stopped and pointed to a door off to the side of the front counter. “I thought it was a good place for them because there isn’t any way out.” He shot Gin an apologetic look. “They might be back there sleeping it off. They were both pretty wasted.”
“No problem,” Trey said. “If you don’t mind me grabbing one of those bottles of water, we’ll take care of it.”
Gomez’s face lit up with laughter. “Take all the bottles you need.”
Chapter Three
While Trey grabbed a couple of bottles of water, Gin made her way to the end of the customer service counter and skirted around the edge. If Mr. Thunder and his partner, Miss Echo, were as drunk as the store’s clerk was claiming, the trip to the all-night market would be a waste of time, which had her mood turning sour. But in the interest of looking under every rock for answers, she shoved open the door and stepped into the small room.
The male, who she assumed was the self-proclaimed “Thunder”, laid sprawled on the floor. His cheek was against the tile, and long golden-blond hair completely covered his face. He didn’t so much as twitch a muscle when Gin deliberately shut the door with a loud bang. She might have checked for signs of life if his chest hadn’t been noticeably rising and falling, accompanied by a faint snoring sound.
His female companion, on the other hand, had both eyes wide open. She let out a high-pitched squeak before her jaw dropped to her chest. Staring up from her cross-legged position next to her partner on the floor, she blinked rapidly at the woman standing over her.
Surprised to find even one of the pair awake, Gin frowned at the glazed look in the younger woman’s eyes. The kid is on something, she thought as she pulled her jacket back and pointed at the badge attached to her belt. “I’m Agent Reilly with the FBI, and I was told that you called about the fire that occurred at The Oasis tonight?”
The woman had a thin face and huge blue eyes that stared back at Gin. Her mouth opened and closed several times, making a tiny clicking sound, but no actual words came.
“The Oasis is the dance club a couple of blocks from here?” Gin prompted. When the silence continued to draw out, she tried again. “I understand your name is Echo?”
The blue eyes closed, and so did the mouth before it curved up at the corners. “I’m Echo. But I didn’t call about the fire. I didn’t call. I couldn’t.” She stuck out her empty hands and held them palm up. “Thunder declared it a no-contact night, so we had no way to talk to anyone because we left our cell phones back at our place.” Her smile took on a wistful quality. “A phone is a distraction. Thunder says it keeps us from enjoying being in the moment.”
“And enjoying your moment included consuming a lot of alcohol?”
“Oh, I don’t drink beer. No beer.” Echo let out a childish giggle. “Thunder drinks beer, but I don’t like it.”
The young woman, who didn’t look old enough to legally drink, might not like beer, but she sure had swallowed something to make her eyes glaze over and not focus on anything. Gin studied Echo’s lopsided smile and reddened eyes for a moment. “Okay, you don’t like beer. I get that. How about marijuana?”
Echo’s smile stretched across her face. “It’s legal here, you know. So you can’t arrest me for that.”
“It’s legal to drink in Colorado, too, so I can’t arrest either of you.” Gin turned at the sound of footsteps behind her, then moved to the side to make room for Trey. She pointed to the figure on the floor. “He’s drunk, and she’s high.”
Trey held up a container of bottled water. “Do you still want to question them?”
Gin sighed, then nodded. “We’re here, so we might as well give it a try.”
“Okay.” Trey squatted and twisted off the bottle cap. Holding the container a foot from the man’s face, he tipped it over, sending a slow waterfall down on top of him.
Even when the snoring came to an abrupt halt and the man sat bolt upright with loud sputtering noises of protest, Trey simply moved the container higher and kept the water pouring over his head until the bottle was empty.
“What the hell?” Thunder shook his head, sending droplets of water flying in all directions, before swiping a mass of soaking-wet hair away from his face. He opened one eye and glared at the man holding the empty bottle. When Trey put it down and reached for another one, Thunder managed to get his arms and legs going, scrabbling his way backwards in a clumsy crab walk until he bumped into Echo. “Hey, man. What are you doing?”
Trey stood up and calmly tapped on the badge at his waist. “FBI, Mr. Thunder. We need to talk to you.”
The man mustered up a glare. “It’s just Thunder. We don’t attach labels to people. And you’ve got no right to waterboard me like that. It’s illegal.”
Trey gave him a pleasant smile. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s go outside and get some fresh air, and we can discuss your grievances.”
“I don’t want to go outside.”
“All right. We can discuss that too.” Trey reached down, grabbed a handful of wet shirt, and hauled the reluctant Thunder to his feet. “Outside.”
As Trey physically propelled Thunder out of the room, Gin focused her gaze on Echo, who was now nervously chewing on her lower lip.
“Maybe I should go with them? Thunder might need some help staying on his feet or something.”
“I think Agent Robard can manage.” Gin dropped into a squat so she could look her potential witness in the eye. She took her phone out, turned it on to record, then set it on the floor next to her feet. “That will record everything we talk about, Echo. You need to tell me that’s okay with you.”
“Okay?”
Echo sounded tentative, but when she didn’t raise an actual protest, Gin took it as consent. “Let’s start with your legal name.”
Echo blinked. “Legal name?”
“Uh-huh. What name did your parents give you?”
“Oh.” Echo gave a little sniff of disapproval. “I don’t use it. It’s a stupid name. No one wants to be called Ellen. It sounds like I was born a hundred years ago.”
Gin tilted her head to the side. “All right. We won’t use it, then. So, did they also give you a last name?”
“Bonter,” the younger woman replied. “Which is worse than Ellen. And who needs two names, anyway?”
I don’t know, Ellen Bonter, but I’ll definitely be doing a run on you, Gin thought. “How old are you?”
Echo shrugged. “Who cares? Age is just a number. Thunder says it isn’t important.”
“Yeah. I’ll bet he does,” Gin muttered as she studied Echo’s face. She certainly didn’t look twenty-one to be able to buy a drink, and could even be skirting the edge of legally being an adult at eighteen. It was often hard to tell. And from what Gin saw of Thunder before Trey hauled him off, he was definitely somewhere over twenty-one, and well on his way to thirty. Which meant she’d need a reason to hold Ellen and do that run before sending her back home with Thunder, the adult guy who’d supplied her with weed. “How much smoke have you had tonight, Echo?”
“Not so much.” The young woman’s gaze dropped to the floor. “We only had a little left over and couldn’t buy any more ′cause we had to pay for the beer and all.” Her eyes drifted back to Gin’s face. “Thunder wanted to go to a bar.” She lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers at the open door. “It was somewhere downtown. He said we needed the money to pay for the Uber to get there and then for the beer, too.”
“You went to a bar? Do you remember what time that was?”
“After dinner.” When Gin’s expression didn’t change, Echo’s eyebrows inched together, and her face scrunched up. “We had some sandwiches and watched the news. Thunder always does, so he knows how fast the world is going to shit. That’s what he says all the time. It’s going to shit.”
When Echo gave her a hopeful look, Gin nodded her encouragement. “Okay. You watched the news, then you went to a bar. How did you get to the bar?”
“A rideshare,” Echo offered immediately. “I told you already. We took a rideshare. Uber. It came right away.” She let out a long sigh. “I didn’t have time to finish my smoke, but Thunder found a quiet place close to the bar and I finished it there.” She smiled. “It was nice of him to let me finish my smoke before he got his beer.”
“Yeah. He seems like a real gentleman.” Gin shifted from her squatting position to take a seat on the floor opposite Echo. “So you finished your smoke, and then did you walk around some or go right into The Oasis?”
Echo giggled. “Oh no. We didn’t do that. I told you. We went to the bar, so Thunder could have his beer. Have his beer,” she repeated.
Getting an idea of why the woman was called Echo, Gin frowned. So their evening hadn’t started out at The Oasis. “A bar. Do you remember the name of this bar?”
“Oh, sure.” Echo’s smile turned almost cheerful. “The Bear Pit. It’s Thunder’s favorite. Mostly ’cause we’ve never been kicked out of there.” Her nose wrinkled as her bottom lip stuck out in a pout worthy of a toddler. “But they close early, like at one. I think. So we had to leave. But some guys Thunder knew were at The Bear Pit, and they gave us a ride over here to check out this new place we’d heard about.” Once again her face scrunched up as she stared at the floor. “I heard about it being over by the warehouses. It’s new.”
“The Oasis?” Gin supplied and was rewarded with a slight nod from Echo.
“Uh-huh. The Oasis. It’s supposed to be pretty fancy, but it was late enough that we figured we could sneak in and take a look.” Echo’s shoulders slumped and she was back to chewing on her lip. “We walked over a couple of blocks. I saw a store that was open and wanted to get some snacks, but Thunder said ‘no’ because we didn’t have any money left, so we kept walking. Then. . .” She hunched in even more as her voice trailed off. She fell silent and her fingers fluttered over her shoe, picking at the laces as she kept her gaze on the ground, avoiding looking at Gin.
“What happened when you were walking, Echo?” Gin pressed. “Is that when you saw the fire?”
“No.” Her voice was small and quiet, and she began to rock back and forth. “I saw the moon car first. I told Thunder about it, so he stopped to look at it too. That’s when I heard the screaming.” She lifted both hands to cover her ears. “Loud screaming. Then someone ran past us and almost knocked me down. Thunder grabbed me so I wouldn’t fall on the sidewalk. I guess the guy got into the moon car because I heard an engine, and the tires squealed as it drove off.” She rocked faster, and now her eyes were squeezed shut. “He didn’t care about the screaming.”
