“So they were held at gunpoint and made to watch each murder,” Dace said. “That’s some twisted shit.”
Declan let out a slow whistle. “Form of torture. Cartel signature. Maybe a small cell like Eva thought hired out local talent who failed. They keep their hands clean, and local thug takes the fall.”
“Let me guess,” Dace weighed in. “Our guy here that supposedly offed himself died last.”
C.T. nodded. “Appears so. Want to know the real kicker? Analysis indicated a left-handed shooter, single weapon, and same weapon on all the vics.”
“Why do I feel like there’s a big plot twist coming?” Dace stiffened, ready for the blow he was sure C.T. was about to deliver.
“Our assumed suicide vic is right-handed. He didn’t shoot them. He didn’t even shoot himself.”
Dace ran his hand through his hair after he pulled a picture of the man in question from the group. “Son of a bitch. Gun’s in his right hand, point of entry is left temple – blew straight through. Right side had to exit based on these images.”
“That’s a nearly impossible shot to make,” C.T. said, reaching his right arm across his body as if reenacting what it would take to successfully end his life as the victim did. “Not to mention odd. Who would do that?”
“So it’s a hit. Is that the working theory?” Dace asked.
“That’s how we’re operating. I believe this man was in the alley the night Ivy was attacked, and someone needed to silence him.”
“On her behalf, or so he wouldn’t talk?” Declan asked.
“On her behalf? Are you kidding, man? How would Ivy order a hit? She doesn’t know who was there that night, nor has she had access to the outside world,” Dace defended.
“Didn’t say she ordered it – just said on her behalf. We can keep having this argument if you need it to see this shit clearly, but as we said before, we don’t know where she’s been.”
“She’s not a fucking stray dog, Dec.”
“No. She’s not, but until she starts talking and gives us something, anything at this point, we can’t rule her out of anything.”
“Jesus. This is ridiculous, and you know it. She isn’t capable of something so…sinister.” Dace held up a crime scene picture. “This is cold and calculated, total blood lust here. That’s not Ivy.”
“That’s not the Ivy we knew,” Declan corrected. “We don’t know shit about this Ivy. Just because we want to see her as the same doesn’t mean she is.”
“She’s been in bed and half drugged with no phone or access to the outside world, Dec,” Dace defended. “She can’t be involved.”
C.T. chimed in, “I’m not sure which way this thing leans as far as she’s involved, but the only reason I ran the blood analysis on a victim we had already ID’d is because…we found her picture at the crime scene. It linked the two cases, and I was able to get a rush on the analysis.”
C.T. pulled out the last picture in the folder he’d brought, and it was of a table with Ivy’s picture on top clear as day, blood splatter marking the surface.
“Shit,” Dace said as he paced back and forth along the conference table, eyes fixed on the crime scene image that had Ivy’s face right in the middle of it.
C.T. broke the tension. “One of our theories is that Ivy had a hit on her, and this guy failed to finish the job and paid with his life.”
“Which means someone knows she’s alive, and that information didn’t hit the media,” Dace said. “Hell, her case, in general, didn’t. Only the people involved in this case and involved with whatever she was tangled in that night know anything.”
“I don’t think this came from my department. The case is locked, and I’m the only one who holds the key right now.”
“What about the team that processed the scene?” Luke asked.
“They don’t know who she is. They just processed the scene, man. They don’t get that deep in the case.”
“I’ve been watching for chatter too,” Liam said. “Cell phones, email, social media, all the communication platforms…nothing.”
“What’s your other theory, Charlie Tango?” Declan asked, knowing what was about to be revealed would sting a little.
He paused. “I’m really sorry, Dace. The other theory is retaliation…for what happened to Ivy.”
“You think I did this?”
“No. Of course not. Besides, I know where you were when this went down. I know where all of you were.”
“Gee, thanks,” Luke said. “Glad you ruled us out so quickly.”
“You know I’m just doing my job, and it’s nothing personal. If our second theory is on point, that means she’s messed up in something, and they’re looking for her.”
“Or they’re looking for her because they want her dead too. Maybe she saw something, was a witness to a crime or something. Maybe, whoever did this – Cartel – is cleaning up a lot of things.”
“You might be right, but we don’t have anything beyond this. Now we take this information and build on it. Who did this guy know, who’s he been running with, where’s he been…the usual.”
“Assuming you bagged cell phones?” Liam asked C.T.
C.T. pulled out a sheet of paper from the folder he’d held the pictures in and handed it to Liam. “These are the numbers from the scene. They were definitely dealing. There were a dozen phones between them.”
“Okay, let me run these numbers and see who they’ve been talking to. I have a number from Ivy’s cell phone – maybe there’s a link somewhere? Might take a while, but I can have system do the heavy lifting here and sort the data. This was two nights ago?” Liam asked, pecking at his keyboard per usual. “Have you tapped into the cameras yet?”
“I need a warrant and don’t have cause yet to get it. They’re making it harder and harder…”
“Ehh. Screw warrants – this shit is easy. I don’t know why you guys mess with all that,” Liam said, pulling information from C.T.’s file.
“You mean, why do we follow the law? Because it’s the fucking law.”
“Turn around and don’t watch then because this is really fucking illegal. Even though I know you were counting on me doing it.” Liam laughed.
“As long as I don’t ask for it, I’m clear. I can’t help it if you take it upon yourself to go looking through shit you aren’t supposed to.”
“Touché.”
“What the…” Liam sat straighter, laser-focused on his work. “We have a problem.”
He sat back in his chair, hands in his lap as he contemplated his findings before he finally turned to the group and said, “Footage is gone. There’s nothin’. Either someone beat me to it, or they turned them off just before the murders.”
“This was premeditated,” Dace said. “Someone with the ability to tap into city cameras…”
“Private security too – it’s all dark during the time of the crime. I don’t even have a doorbell camera off anyone’s house.”