Chapter 33
Despite accepting the invitation, Vaughn didn’t really feel like going to dinner with his partner. Not after Darnell had been an asshole pretty much all day. But the more time they spent together, the less time his partner had to get shitfaced.
And Darnell behaved during the meal, a middle of the road steak and burger joint. Two beers each.
That being said, Darnell was typically good company. Liked to crack jokes, primarily at Delaney’s expense. Mostly good-natured ribbing.
Puppy dog, dick rider, simp. Beta.
Not today.
Today, Darnell read the room—Vaughn wouldn’t put up with any more of that shit.
Twice, Vaughn considered bringing up AA again. Psychotherapy.
Darnell had passed his evals following his reinstatement, but there was clearly something wrong with him. And it was getting worse.
The insults were one thing, but seeing Darnell this morning in bed, half-naked, sweaty, with his gun lying beside him, holding hands with a bottle of Jack?
That was something else.
After—he said after this case.
Vaughn would hold Darnell to his word.
Dinner was bland, both steaks slightly overcooked. The beer was good, though.
When he dropped Darnell off, Vaughn told the man to be ready at eight the next morning. A surrogate for don’t drink too much.
Darnell promised he’d be up.
Vaughn popped open another beer when he got home and sat in front of the TV. He was a hockey guy, but the Devils game was already over. They lost 3-2 to the Senators. There was another game on, a Western Conference matchup, but Vaughn wasn’t interested.
Wasn’t really tired, either.
He decided to call Bowes. It was late, but there was no way someone could sleep after consuming upwards of a gram of caffeine throughout the day.
Bowes answered on the first ring.
“Yello?”
“Bowes? You still up?”
“Yep—still at the station.”
“Really?”
“Yeah—just finishing up. Pulled that data you wanted off the phone. Was gonna wait until morning but . . . I’m guessing that’s why you called?”
“Yes. Sorry for calling so late.”
“No prob. Like I said, I’m still at the station.”
“What’ve you got?”
“Still going through the texts. Looks like our man Aaron was trying to score some testosterone from some guy named Ronnie. Anyway, he did make a call to that number in the ad. Two of them. First time around, nobody picked up. The second call lasted two minutes and forty-three seconds.”
“When was that?”
“Three nights ago. Then last night, two texts came in from the same number.
Both at 10:45 p.m. Here, let me read the first to you: Welcome, contestant.
Congratulations on being accepted to participate in our new puzzle game show.
This event will be a team event. If all members complete the puzzle, each will be awarded 1 Bitcoin.
Please read the following instructions carefully.
Failure to comply with any of the rules will result in immediate disqualification.
“That was the first text. The second: Drive to CiCi’s Pizza in Fredon Township.
Park there or anywhere else in the vicinity.
DO NOT drive to the game address (to follow).
Do not mention the address to anyone. Do not speak to anyone about the game show.
NO CELL PHONES ALLOWED. NO IDENTIFICATION ALLOWED.
Leave your wallets at home or in your car.
You must arrive before midnight. Remember, failure to comply will result in IMMEDIATE DISQUALIFICATION. Good luck!”
Bowes read off the address, which was the barn where they’d found the bodies, as Vaughn mulled this information over.
The ME, Dr. Button, said that Aaron and the other victims died around 1:30 in the morning, plus or minus half an hour.
The texts had come in at 10:45 p.m., and Aaron had to drive from his home in Trenton to CiCi’s in Fredon Township.
At that hour, there would be no traffic—takes about ten minutes.
He grabs a slice. Maybe speaks to the other contestants for a little while.
Probably nervous—the NO IDENTIFICATION ALLOWED was an odd request. But he’s not alone now.
Aaron and the other men are also excited, bragging about what they’re going to do with the nearly eighty grand they’re about to win.
Then they walk from CiCi’s to the barn. How far did Delaney say that was?
A mile and a half? That takes, what? Thirty minutes?
11:30ish arrival.
Then the rules of the 100 prisoners problem are explained over the speaker.
If Ivy was right about the set-up, then Aaron was the victim who failed, who didn’t find his number. If the rooms were assigned from left to right, which made the most sense, then that meant seven people had already found their numbers in the boxes.
Vaughn wondered what the odds of that were. Maybe not one in a decillion, but pretty damn low.
He sipped his beer.
Everything in the barn was automated, from the door locks to the gas release valve.
“Detective Ryan? You still there?”
“Yeah, sorry. Been a long one.”
“Don’t I know it. So, the phone that made the 911 call to report the location of the gassing is the same phone—same IMEI number—as the one that sent the texts and received the initial calls from Aaron Treadman.”
Their assumptions had been correct. The anonymous call had been made by their unsub.
“Any way to tell who else called that phone? Received texts from it?”
“Not without the actual device.”
Vaughn had thought as much, but figured it pertinent to ask. That phone was probably at the bottom of the Delaware River by now.
“You tracking it?”
“Yep—if it’s used again, I’ll get an immediate notification.”
Unlikely.
“Great. You manage to get any location data from when the texts were sent or when it answered the call from Aaron?”
Vaughn’s phone beeped and he pulled it away from his ear. It was Delaney calling.
“Yes to the call from Aaron’s phone. It pinged the same towers as the 911 call.”
That was three days prior to the gassing. Their unsub was probably out at the barn putting up drywall.
Did he know the area well? Is that why he chose that location? Or was it just easy because it was abandoned and secluded?
Vaughn had driven around the location, although he wasn’t sure what he’d been looking for.
Building supplies?
It was farmland. Every farmer worth his salt had equipment to do home or barn repairs.
“The texts didn’t ping a tower,” Bowes continued. “Probably sent through WiFi. Haven’t been able to trace them and doubt I ever will; same circle jerk runaround VPNs like the speaker and door locks.”
Another beep.
Delaney was still trying to reach him.
“I’m getting another call. Thanks, Bowes. Let me know if that phone is used again.” Vaughn clicked over. “Delaney? What’s—”
“Detective Ryan, we got another call! I was looking for the victims’ cars at gas stations when dispatch reached out. I passed someone on the road, but had to get to the site—”
Delaney was excited, out of breath. Vaughn was having a hard time following.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Another 911 call! Same as the last! Gas leak. One dead.”
Vaughn was on his feet in an instant. He grabbed his gun belt and coat and flew out the front door.
“Where, Delaney? Where?”