CHAPTER TWENTY
TPHUBT PH-RD BAOURD
Alison stared at the text message as Derek drove her back to her home in the hills. She read the words over and over and couldn’t make sense of them. It felt like something she should understand, but it was gobbledegook at the same time.
"Thubt fird bawurd," she read phonetically.
"I’m sure it’s just a wrong number," Derek said as they drove up toward the house.
"It’s weird, though, right?" Alison said. "If it were a wrong number and a regular message like, don't forget to pick up milk, then that would make more sense, but it’s like someone is trying to communicate with me. And why now? I’m in the spotlight. Right after I’m mentioned in the news, I get this message. "
"They’re trying to trace it back at the office, and we’ll follow up on it. It’s nothing. It’s probably nothing."
"Yeah, I know," Alison said.
"Can you tell me which motel you’re going to stay at, or would you rather no one knows?" Derek asked.
"Sunshine Villas tonight," she replied. "It’s central in a reasonably busy area, and I can pay cash. As long as no one knows I’m there, I’ll be fine."
"I can sleep on the couch. You can take my bed if you want," Derek suggested. "I have a second set of sheets, so you don't have to worry about dirty sheets. I don't do room service, but I can cook you breakfast in the morning."
They both fell silent. It shouldn't have felt weird, but it did. Alison knew she would be safe in his house, but it didn't feel right to go and stay with him, not like this.
"Or I can stay at the motel," Derek suggested. "Get the room next to yours and be there just in case anything happens."
"Yeah, maybe," Alison replied. "I appreciate you looking out for me."
"I don't want to lose the best partner I've ever had," he replied.
"We do make a good team," Alison said. "I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about what Thomas Bennet said to us."
"I don't know if I’m going to like this," Derek admitted. "I hear that slight hint of doubt in your voice."
"It’s more than just a slight hint," Alison told him. "He comes across as one of the most honest suspects I’ve interviewed. So much so, I’m rethinking whether I made the right decision years ago to recommend against early release.
From everything he said and how he acted both in his office and in the interview room, he presents as someone who fully believes in what he says. "
"Okay," Derek replied.
"And I can see it in him that he really does want to help people," Alison added. "He’s turned his life around and wants to do the same for others, and I fully believe him. He’s one of the few criminals who don’t reoffend or struggle when they are released.
He’s basically a model prisoner for all types of prison reform, and that’s likely why he’s talking about it at the upcoming town halls. "
"We have a lot of evidence against him," Derek pointed out.
"I understand that, but what if it’s not all… evidence?"
"Go on," Derek said.
"So, we know he was in the area close to the time of all three murders, which does look suspicious, but on its own, doesn’t prove he killed anyone. We can put him near each crime scene before the murders happened, but we can't place him at the crime scene when the murders happened."
"Correct," Derek said. "And the pink thread?"
"It feels too good as evidence," Alison pointed out.
"Maybe if it were a black thread, I might buy it, but a bright pink thread from the lettering on a jacket he wears.
When he mentioned that there were no threads missing, I remembered that he was telling the truth.
The lettering looked intact when we brought him in.
Maybe the thread matches, but it feels wrong for being too right.
And if there are other jackets out there worn by his colleagues, then it becomes shaky. "
"I don't like this," Derek said. "He ticks all the boxes, but you’re making me doubt myself."
"And the logins to the computer at his office to download the files on each of the women," Alison continued. "I’m confident that when you look at the CCTV, you’ll only see Bennet enter the building right before the files were downloaded. Maybe there’ll be others on the camera, but they'll be expected in the community hall. And if you were to look into it and find a witness or talk with Bennet, he’ll probably admit to being in the office when the files were downloaded, and when we take a look at the computer, I’m certain the files will be there. "
"But?" Derek asked with a knowing tone.
"But the person we’re looking for managed to bypass three security systems without leaving a trace. If they can do that, they can remotely request and download files."
Derek slowed as they reached the top of the hill where Alison’s house was.
"I can have the tech guys look into that if you think it’s a possibility," Derek said.
"I think it is," Alison admitted. "Have them look for keystrokes on the computer, breadcrumbs leading somewhere else, any digital forensics surrounding the downloads, and—Oh, not again."
Alison looked from the vehicle to the front gate where the reporter stood. He was the same guy who’d come to her house at two in the morning asking for a statement. He stood in the middle of the road, blocking their way.
"He’s the guy who came to the door in the middle of the night wanting a quote," Alison told Derek.
"Dr. Payne!" the reporter shouted. "Do you have anything to say about the murders? Special Agent Sullivan! Are you any closer to arresting someone?"
"Give me a second," Derek said. "Stay in the vehicle."
Derek got out and approached the reporter, and the reporter approached Derek, tape recorder held out to get anything on the record.
"Step aside," Derek ordered. "We’re trying to do our jobs."
"How is that going?" the reporter asked. "One quote, and I’m out of here. I knew you’d come back here eventually, Dr. Payne!"
Alison sat in the car, looking out of the window instead of giving the reporter the pleasure of her attention. Derek pushed the reporter gently but firmly to the side and away from the gate.
"Get out of here or I will arrest you," Derek said.
"On what grounds?" the reporter asked.
"Trespassing."
"Trespassing? I’m on public land," the reporter claimed.
"You weren’t during the night, were you?" Derek asked. "It’s all on camera. The gate wasn’t open, so how did you get in?"
The reporter looked past Derek to Alison in the vehicle and then back to Derek. He held the recorder before him as if it were a shield that could protect him, and eventually relented and moved from the gate, taking a few steps but not leaving the front of the property.
Derek came back to the car and drove up to the gate.
He lowered the window, and Alison whispered the code to him.
He entered it, and the gate slid to the side.
He drove onto the property and stopped the car, getting out quickly and looking behind at the gate to ensure the reporter didn't follow them in.
Alison also looked back, watching as the gate slid closed. When it did, the reporter walked back to his vehicle, got back in, and started it.
Alison went to the keypad on her door, and was about to enter the code when she saw the small green light indicating that the door wasn’t locked. She reached for the handle and opened the door as the reporter drove off.
"Derek," she hissed.
Derek rushed to her side, already drawing his gun.
"It wasn’t locked," she whispered. "I always lock the door and set the alarm. Someone’s in there."
"Stay here," he ordered. He held the gun pointed at the door, and used his free hand to push the door slowly open. He took slow steps into the house, moving his gun in a wide arc to cover as much of the interior as possible.
Alison looked back toward the gate, where the reporter was no longer. She reached into her bag and took out her gun.
This is my home and I won't be scared in my own home.
She followed Derek silently into the house. Her heart was racing as she stepped inside. She told herself not to be scared, but that didn't do much when there could be a killer hiding somewhere inside. Even with her gun and Derek with his, she couldn’t be anything other than afraid.
Derek pointed his gun into the living room, holding it at chest height, his breathing calm and even. He moved through the room with Alison following, and into the kitchen, moving in a circle. He looked back into the living room to see Alison with her gun, and a look of frustration crossed his face.
He pointed his gun to the side as he walked toward her, getting close enough to whisper, "Stay here. I mean it, this time."
He moved past her to search the rest of the house.
Alison pointed her gun at the large window that gave a view of the open land directly outside, leading down to the city. Trees and bushes marked the land, and dotted on the hillside, spread apart, were the houses.
Are you down there now? Was that your escape route, or…
Only one reporter had remained at her house.
Only one had come to her door in the middle of the night.
Was he the one who had entered her home and been caught when he was leaving?
Was he looking for a story, or was he up to something else?
She hadn’t followed up on who he was or checked that his credentials were real.
She turned from the window and found her sister’s old swim photo, the one where she posed in her swimsuit with three other female swimmers after they broke the high school freestyle relay record. Only, there was an addition this time.
Scrawled across the front of the photo, in lipstick which couldn’t have been hers as she didn't own any, were the words: You’re next!
"It’s all clear," Derek said. "I’m getting you out of here anyway, and I’ll have a forensic team come up here and see if they get anything."
"There’s this," Alison said, unable to look away from the photograph and the words.
"Geez," Derek said as he came beside her.
He slowly lowered his gun and arm, and she relaxed. She had the weapon fixed on the photo, ready to shoot it.
"I’m with you twenty-four-seven until we catch the killer," Derek said.
"The reporter was just here," Alison pointed out. "Do we even know who he is?"
"No, but I saw his car parked out front," Derek said. "I’ll put an APB out for it now and we’ll bring him in." He took out his phone and made a call back to the office.
Alison wanted to grab her alcohol cleaner and some rags from below the bathroom sink and scrub the framed photograph clean, but she had to leave it for forensics.
"We found the lipstick from Patricia’s apartment," Alison thought out loud. "Did the killer also take one from there? If not, are we looking for a woman? Someone who would carry lipstick around with them?"
Derek held the phone to his ear as he talked to his colleagues at the CBI offices, requesting that they find the car that had just driven away from Alison’s property. He said something else, and he nodded toward Alison: they had something else.
"That’s great, send it over now," Derek said.
He hung up without saying goodbye. Then, he addressed Alison.
"We traced the phone that sent the text to a residence near the courthouse.
We don't know who the phone belongs to, but we assume it’s the same person who owns the house, and we do know that.
Vanessa Taylor, a court reporter until about three months ago. "
"She’ll have been in court many times, depending on how long she worked in the courthouse," Alison said. "She might have heard the testimonies of all three victims. It could be her lipstick on the photo."
"Forget your clothes for now, we’re going there now," Derek said. "The phone was at the address the last time they pinged it. I don't want her getting away."
They ran together out of the house, the gun still in Alison’s hand