Chapter Five
Sam was contemplating her next move when her phone rang with a call from Avery Hill.
“Hey.”
“I heard about your nephew. What can I do?”
“Nothing officially. I’ve been told to steer clear, and if they think I called you in, I’ll be in deep shit.”
“You didn’t call me in. My boss did.”
“The big boss, you mean.”
“The biggest one. My friend, the president, told me his nephew is missing and asked if I could help. He told me about the incel texts, and that sends up all sorts of red flags for me. We’ve got people assigned full time to that area.”
“Like, how many people?”
“About twenty agents from the Domestic Terrorism team.”
She gasped at such a large effort. “Avery, my God. I’ve never even heard of it before today.”
“It’s been an issue since the nineties. They’re heterosexual men who blame women and society as a whole for their lack of romantic partners.
There’s all this crazy vernacular as part of the so-called manosphere.
In addition to incels, they’re classified as Pick-Up Artists, Men Going Their Own Way and Men’s Rights Activists.
Incels seem to have the most violent tendencies when it comes to acting on their grievances against women.
We’ve seen cases where couples have been targeted because the guy is successful in getting a woman to be with him, so they hate him as much as they hate the woman who rejected them.
Remember when the husband and daughter of that federal judge in Oregon were murdered at their home? ”
“Yes,” Sam said, swallowing bile that burned her throat as this became more horrifying by the second.
“That was a guy who called himself a Men’s Rights Activist, or MRA, and he was out to punish the judge for siding with women in many of the domestic cases that came before her.”
“How would these kids, these children, know about this?”
“It’s hard to say where they might’ve heard about it, but if they have access to the internet, this is the kind of shit that’s out there waiting to find them. We’ve got people much better versed on this than I am who might be able to help.”
“I feel like I’m going to be sick.”
“From what Nick said, it doesn’t sound like there’s anything Ethan said in the texts that could be considered threatening. He didn’t respond to the kid who was trying to start the trouble.”
“What do we do, Avery? Tell me what to do.”
“Let me call Malone. I’ll tell him Nick told me about Ethan being missing and mentioned what Archie found in the texts. I’ll strongly suggest to him that he bring in our team sooner rather than later based on the use of the word ‘incel’ in the texts. Would that work?”
“As long as you don’t mention that you talked to me.”
“This call never happened. I’ll hit up Malone now. I’m sure you’ll hear about whatever is decided.”
“Don’t be so sure. They want me far away from this one.”
“I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“Thanks, Avery.”
“Of course.”
As she put the phone in her pocket, Freddie came into the room. “How’d it go with the Juvenile Investigative Response commander?”
“It didn’t. She’s afraid of getting in trouble for talking to me about an investigation I was ordered to stay out of.”
“Why’re you paler now than you were an hour ago?”
“I talked to Avery and learned more about incel culture than I ever wanted to know, and it’s terrifying.”
“I’ve read about it, and it’s truly disgusting. Did he tell you how they believe that eighty percent of women are interested in only the top twenty percent of the best-looking, richest, most successful men, leaving the other eighty percent of men without a partner?”
“Ah, no, he didn’t mention that.”
“They call the twenty percent Chads, and the rest are incels,” Freddie said. “Chads date Stacys, the women who won’t have anything to do with the incels.”
“It boggles my mind that people spend the limited amount of time they have in this life nursing grievances and plotting revenge when they could be out there bettering themselves and making a real contribution.”
“Playing devil’s advocate… Think about the guys you’ve said ‘no way’ to in your life. Then imagine every other woman out there is having the same reaction to them. Nothing these men do or say changes their track record with women, so who do they start to blame for that?”
“Why blame anyone? That’s what I don’t get.”
“That kind of consistent rejection for guys who want a romantic partner but can’t get one is what can turn them into bitter, lonely, dangerous people.”
Sam’s stomach had begun to ache an hour ago, and the ache had only intensified with every new detail she learned about this topic. “It’s scary that this exists in the ether, and I had no idea—most people have no idea. And now, somehow, they’ve gotten their hooks into my nephew?”
“We don’t know that for certain. We know that someone who texted him used that word, and we’ve fallen into a rabbit hole while trying to understand the meaning. Ninety percent of what we’ve learned probably won’t apply to this situation with Ethan.”
“It’s the remaining ten percent that has me terrified.”
Gonzo arrived at the Vacation Inn and Suites hotel and was greeted by Patrol Officers Clare and Youncy. “What’ve you got?”
“A white male, maybe midthirties, was found in the ice room on the sixth floor by a guest who’d gone to get ice,” Clare said. “He’d been stabbed in the chest and was dead by the time he was found.”
“Do you have a name?”
“We made the decision not to touch anything until you guys got here. We wanted you to see the scene as we found it.”
“Good call.”
“We’ve requested Crime Scene detectives and footage from all the cameras. The manager said corporate will want warrants, so we asked Captain Malone to get them moving.”
“Great work. Take me up.”
“Uh, Sarge,” Youncy said, “the manager is insisting on being present for everything we do.”
“Is he now?”
“Yeah, he’s been a pain in the ass.”
“What his name?”
“Mr. Wright,” Clare said.
“No first name?”
“He didn’t provide it.”
“Where can I find Mr. Wright?”
“This way, Sarge,” Youncy said.
They led Gonzo into the lobby, where a nervous-looking man with thinning blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses was surrounded by staff in uniform, all of whom were so focused on him they failed to notice the cops approaching them.
“Mr. Wright?” Gonzo said, loud enough to be heard over the others.
The wiry man nearly jumped out of his light gray suit and bow tie. “Th-that’s me. I’m the manager. And you are?”
He showed his badge. “Sergeant Tommy Gonzales with the Metropolitan Police Department Homicide unit. I’d like to see the victim, please.”
“We… we can’t be sure he was killed in our hotel.”
Gonzo tipped his head. “You want to run that by me one more time?”
“What I’m saying is he could’ve been killed anywhere and left here to cause trouble for us.”
“So you think a murder in your hotel is intended to cause trouble for you? What about the trouble it’s caused him and his family?”
“Of course that’s of paramount concern to us.”
“Of course.” Gonzo hoped the sarcasm landed. “Take me to him. Now.”
“There’s no need to be hostile,” Wright said.
“I wasn’t at all hostile until you placed concern for the hotel above that of a murdered man.”
“When did I do that? Cindy, Louise, Russell, did any of you hear me do that?”
“No, sir,” they said in unison, as if they’d been programmed to do so.
“You’re wasting my time,” Gonzo told him. “If you’d like to be there when I view the body, I suggest you take me there immediately. Otherwise, I’ll go without you.”
Gonzo could tell Wright wanted to argue but wisely decided against it.
“Russell, come with us. The rest of you get back to work.”
“Don’t let anyone touch the main computers at the check-in desk,” Gonzo said to the women being dismissed. “We’ll be seizing them as part of our investigation. We’ll also want passwords and operation manuals for the systems you use. Maybe you can work on that for us?”
Wright almost fainted. “But—”
Gonzo gave him a look that stopped that question in its tracks.
The two women nodded to acknowledge Gonzo’s request and scrambled off like they’d been set on fire. Wright and Russell led the way to the elevators.
“What are your first names?” Gonzo asked.
“Why is that relevant?” Wright asked.
Gonzo was ready to arrest this guy for being a dick. If only the charge would stick. “I determine what’s relevant. Now what’s your first name?”
“Edward,” Wright said. “Russell’s is William, but everyone calls him Russell.”
“Was that so difficult?”
“This whole thing is difficult,” Wright said. “We’re not the kind of establishment to have a murder on our premises or police officers visiting us.”
“I’m sorry for your troubles, but I’m much sorrier for the troubles of the guy who was murdered.”
“I feel like you’re enjoying this or something.”
“Yeah, a murder is the highlight of my entire day. What’ve you got for cameras on the sixth floor?”
“We have security cameras in all the public spaces.”
“Including the ice rooms?”
“No, not there.”
Gonzo would’ve been surprised to hear they had cameras in the ice room. “I’d like the film from the last twenty-four hours on the sixth floor.”
“I’ll have to check with corporate on that.”
“Why?”
“That’s the policy.”
“The policy is that when a murder occurs in one of your hotels, you have to get corporate’s permission to assist the police investigating it?”
“I don’t make the rules. I simply follow and enforce them.”
“I bet you enjoy enforcement.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Just an observation.”
Russell, a tall, imposing fellow who looked like he was once a linebacker, cleared his throat as if trying not to laugh.
“We’ve already requested a warrant for the video,” Gonzo said, “but you could help us out if you’re able to get permission to turn it over to us.”
“I’ll send an inquiry right away.”
“How long will that take?”
“The corporate offices are open twenty-four hours a day. Someone will get back to me soon.”
“Excellent. Keep me posted. In the meantime, I’m going to have my captain request the warrant. I should hope it goes without saying that no one is to touch the surveillance equipment between now and when that video is turned over to us. If you haven’t yet given that order, do so now.”
Oh, Mr. Wright did not like being told what to do. Too bad. He’d soon realize he wasn’t in charge of this situation.
Russell led the way to the ice room, where another staff member stood outside the door.
Gonzo showed the man his badge. “Sergeant Gonzales, MPD Homicide. Who’s had access?”
“Just the female guest who reported finding the body and your officers.”
“Great. Thank you.”
The man stepped aside before Gonzo had to ask him to.
He wondered if he’d been on the job at one point.
A bloodbath awaited Gonzo inside the room.
It was on the walls, floor, ice machine and all over the man on the floor.
Judging by the smell of urine and shit mixed in with the metallic scent of blood, the man had lost control of his bodily functions.
Gonzo pulled on gloves and squatted next to the man, reaching under him for a wallet but coming back with only shit that’d seeped through the man’s pants on his gloves. He had a handsome face marked by a scar on his top lip.
Noting the keycard on the floor next to the body, Gonzo said, “Can we get access to the room where he was staying?” He removed the gloves, rolled them into a ball and tossed them aside to dispose of them later.
Wright had put a monogrammed handkerchief over his nose and mouth. “We’ll need a warrant for that, too.”
“You could make this easier on all of us by letting us in there now so we can figure out who he was, what he was doing here and who might’ve wanted him dead. Not to mention, his family will need to be notified.”
“We can make that phone call.”
“You will not make that call. We’ll take care of that.”
“It’s corporate policy for us to notify the emergency contact when something happens to a guest at our facility.”
“If you or anyone on your staff makes that phone call, you’ll be arrested for interfering in a homicide investigation. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal,” Wright said on a growl.
Gonzo took a look outside the room and saw the hallway extended some distance in both directions. “Does the hallway hook around that corner there?”
“Yes, there are thirty more rooms down there.”
Sighing, Gonzo realized this was going to be an all-nighter. He stepped away from the others to call Sam.
“What’ve you got?”
“A thirtysomething guy stabbed in the chest in the ice room on the sixth floor of a nine-story hotel with… How many rooms?”
“One hundred and eighty-two,” Russell said as Wright dry heaved at the smell coming from inside the ice room.
“Shit,” Sam said as she, too, realized they’d be processing a massive crime scene.
“I’ll need some help over here. Okay to call in the team to canvass?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
“I’ve got to get with Malone about warrants. I’ll ask him to send some additional Patrol officers, too.”
“Sounds like a plan. Thank you for handling it.”
“I’d say it was no problem, but… Anything new over there?”
“Not yet.”
“Jeez, Sam…”
“I know.”
“I’ll get back to you.”
To Wright, he said, “We’ll need to wake up the guests.”
The horrified look on Wright’s face would’ve amused him under any other circumstances.
“We can’t do that.”
Gonzo had had just about enough of this guy. “We’re doing it. I’ll remind you yet again that if you get in my way, I’ll arrest you to get you out of my way. You got me?”
Wright’s only reply was a glare over the handkerchief he held over his nose and mouth.
Gonzo called Captain Malone.
“Hey, I’ve requested the warrant for the hotel video.”
“I also need one to get into the victim’s room, if it’s actually his room, since the manager won’t tell me who he is.”
Wright doubled down on the glare.
“Can we wake up a judge for this?” Gonzo asked Malone.
“Already on it. Waiting to hear back.”
“Okay, let me know.”
“I’ll be right back to you.”
“I’m calling in our team and will also need additional resources from Patrol to canvass one hundred and eighty-two rooms. Is that approved?”
“Yes,” the captain said with a sigh. He was probably calculating overtime costs that would add up fast in a case like this. “Go ahead. What’re you hearing from Sam?”
“Nothing new as of a few minutes ago.”
“What the hell is going on there?”
“No idea, but it doesn’t seem good.”
“It sure doesn’t.”