CHAPTER NINE
As it turned out, Clyde Newsome was at work, so that’s where they went.
The KTLA television station occupied a building in Hollywood, where Clyde worked in the meteorology department on the third floor.
Miles and Vic found him in a small room filled with computer monitors displaying weather data, satellite imagery, and atmospheric pressure readings.
The space smelled faintly of coffee and had the organized chaos of a workplace where multiple people shared equipment and desk space.
Newsome was a thin man in his late twenties with wire-rimmed glasses and a nervous energy that manifested in constant small movements. When Miles and Vic introduced themselves, he seemed relieved to see them. He’d seemed almost excited to speak to Miles when he’d called to ask for an interview.
"We appreciate you taking the time," Miles said as they settled into Newsome’s workspace. "Can you start by telling us about your job here?"
Newsome adjusted his glasses as he nodded.
"I'm a meteorological technician. Basically, I assist the on-air meteorologists with data collection and equipment maintenance.
I launch weather balloons when needed, usually just to measure atmospheric conditions, calibrate instruments, and process incoming data from NOAA and other sources.
It's technical work that keeps the weather forecasts accurate. "
"And do you launch weather balloons regularly?" Vic asked.
"I’d say maybe one or two a week," Newsome confirmed. "It really just depends on when they need me.”
“Can you explain the importance of the balloons in the day-to-day operations of the newscast?” Vic asked.
“Sure. The weather balloons are necessary…and pretty much standard practice for stations that do their own atmospheric monitoring. The balloons carry radiosondes that measure temperature, humidity, pressure, and wind speed as they ascend. The data transmits back to us in real time."
"How high do these balloons typically go?" Miles asked.
"That all depends on the balloon size and the weight of the instrument package. But most of ours reach about 100,000 feet before they burst. The radiosonde parachutes back down and we try to recover them when possible."
"So you're familiar with how weather balloons behave," Vic said. "How they ascend, how they're affected by wind, that kind of thing."
"I've launched probably a hundred or so of them over the past five years," Newsome said. "And I’m always working with people who do it quite regularly.”
Miles leaned forward slightly, ready to turn the conversation elsewhere. "When you witnessed the body falling last night, you said you knew without much trouble that the body was suspended by weather balloons. Can you describe that in more detail?"
Newsome's face tightened at the memory but the excitement of being able to help was still present. "I was at home observing the Pleiades star cluster. And the balloons—and the body—just sort of floated right in my line of sight. I didn’t realize what it was right away, of course. I had to zoom in a bit, get a better focus.”
“And it was balloons. You knew that right away?”
"Yeah. Well, I called my friend, Ray, to confirm and he thought so, too. Weather balloons. And that’s when I realized there was a body attached to them. And then…well, then one of the balloons popped. And then another and another. And then the body just…fell.”
“While still attached to the balloons?” Vic asked.
“Yeah, but they just all kept popping…”
Vic opened a photo on her phone and showed it to Newsome. It was an image of a standard weather balloon, the basic sort that had suspended and then dropped Amanda Parker. "The balloons that were holding the body…did they look like these?"
Newsome studied the photo carefully. "Similar, yes. But it’s hard to know or be certain. It was so far away, you know?"
“Were you able to get a good look at the body?”
“No. My telescope isn’t that good. The body was just slightly too far away.”
“Could you tell if it was a male or a female?” Miles asked.
“No.” He frowned and added: “Sorry.”
"Could you tell anything else about the balloons as you watched it happen?" Miles asked.
"The way they were falling, the pattern of descent and all, I figure they had been at altitude for a while before deflating.
Weather balloons expand as they rise because the atmospheric pressure decreases.
Eventually, they reach a point where they burst. But these looked like they had deflated more gradually, like someone had released the helium or they had developed slow leaks. "
“And if someone wanted to lift a person using helium balloons, what size balloons would they need?"
Newsome thought about this, his fingers tapping against his desk.
"A standard 72-inch diameter balloon, the kind you can buy online, holds about 400 cubic feet of helium when fully inflated.
Each one can lift roughly 35 pounds. For an average person weighing around 150 pounds, you would need about twenty-five balloons to achieve neutral buoyancy.
To actually lift them off the ground and send them to significant altitude, you would probably want something closer to forty. "
"And that's accounting for the weight of the harness system?" Vic asked.
"Yes. The harness would add maybe 10 or 15 pounds depending on the design.
You would want reinforced straps capable of distributing the weight evenly.
" Newsome pulled up a website on his computer showing weather balloon suppliers.
"These 72-inch balloons cost about twenty dollars each.
Helium runs maybe fifty cents per cubic foot from most suppliers.
The entire setup would cost a little less than a thousand dollars. "
Miles felt a piece of the puzzle click into place. "So whoever is doing this doesn't need sophisticated equipment or access to specialized facilities."
"Not at all," Newsome said. "Everything they need is commercially available.
The hardest part would be inflating that many balloons and coordinating the release, but even that's just time and patience." He chuckled a bit and then seemed to wish he hadn’t. “I mean…it’s sort of scary to think how easy it might be to get it done.”
"What about launch locations?" Vic asked. "Would someone need a specific type of area to get these off the ground?"
Newsome considered this. "They would need somewhere open, away from power lines and buildings. Probably at least a quarter acre of clear space. And they would want to avoid populated areas where people might see them preparing the balloons."
"Industrial zones," Miles said. "Abandoned lots, maybe agricultural areas on the edge of the city."
"That would make sense," Newsome agreed. "And they would want to launch at night or early morning when there's less chance of witnesses."
Miles's phone buzzed in his hand. Agent Kim's name appeared on the screen and he answered immediately, excusing himself from the conversation by mouthing “Sorry…” He turned away with a single step and said, “Hey, Kim.”
"Miles, I have an update," Kim said without preamble. "Forensics was able to identify the second victim using dental records."
"That’s great. What’ve you got?”
"The ME's office prioritized it after they understood the connection to Amanda Parker. The victim is Robert Thompson, thirty-four years old. He worked as a window washer for a company called Sky Blue Building Services. It looks like they handle the major high-rises downtown."
Miles exchanged a glance with Vic and said, "The second victim's been ID'd. Robert Thompson…a window washer."
"I pulled his employment records,” Kim went on. “Thompson worked on buildings ranging from 30 to 70 stories. He spent his entire career dangling from harnesses hundreds of feet above the ground."
It sure as hell fit, Miles thought. Amanda Parker was a skydiving instructor, used to being thousands of feet in the air. Based on Robert Thompson's work experience, he'd been no stranger to heights, either.
"So, both victims were people who regularly worked at extreme heights," Miles said slowly. "People who were comfortable with altitude."
"It fits Kane's philosophy," Vic said. "The killer isn't just obsessed with helium or oxygen consumption. They're targeting people who spend their lives at high elevations. People who breathe thin air, who consume oxygen at altitude."
Miles thought about the manifesto left behind on one of the balloons that had suspended Amanda Parker.
The killer saw these victims as thieves, people who had no right to exist at heights where oxygen was scarcer.
It was completely stupid in Miles’s estimation, but these disciples weren’t exactly keen masters of logic.
"There's something else," Kim said through the phone.
"I've been looking into Thompson's background.
He participated in a study about altitude adaptation three years ago.
Researchers were measuring how window washers and other high-altitude workers adapted to decreased oxygen levels over time.
He volunteered for it…his job awarded anyone who took the study a bonus. "
"Let me guess," Miles said. "Amanda Parker was in the same study."
"Different cohort, but same research team from the looks of it," Kim confirmed. "The study was run by UCLA's Department of Physiology. They recruited skydivers, window washers, tower climbers, anyone who spent significant time at altitude."
Miles nodded; Parker’s family may not have known about such a study if it was something she’d enrolled in as part of her job.
The pattern was becoming clear. The killer had access to research data about people who worked at extreme heights. They were using that information to select victims who fit their twisted criteria.
"We need a list of everyone who participated in that study," Vic said. "And we need to know who had access to the research data."
"Already working on it," Kim said. "I've reached out to UCLA to request the participant list and employment records for anyone associated with the study. Should have something within a few hours."
"Good work," Miles said. "Keep us updated."
He ended the call and looked at Newsome with a new and renewed sense of urgency. "Is there anything else you can tell us about the balloons you saw? Any detail that might help us identify where they were purchased or how they were prepared?"
Newsome shook his head slowly. "I only saw them for a few seconds before they were out of my sight. But standard 72-inch latex balloons are sold by dozens of online retailers. There would be no way to trace them unless you had the actual remnants for analysis."
"The crime scene techs collected some fragments," Vic said. "They'll run tests to see if there are any unique markers."
Miles stood, and Vic followed his lead. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Newsome. You’ve been a tremendous help. If you think of anything else, please contact us."
Vic handed Newsome a business card from her inner jacket pocket. "I will," Newsome said. "And I hope you catch whoever is doing this. What I saw that night is something I'll never forget."
They left the meteorology department and took the elevator down to the parking garage. Vic was quiet as they walked to the car, her expression thoughtful.
"What are you thinking?" Miles asked.
Vic unlocked the car and they both got in before she answered. "I'm thinking about how the killer chooses the moment to release the victims. Do they just cut them loose and let them drift, or do they time it so the victims land in specific locations?"
"Newsome said the balloons would be affected by wind patterns and atmospheric conditions," Miles said. "The killer would need some understanding of weather to predict where the victims would come down. There’s a lot of planning on this guy’s end."
"Which brings us back to someone with meteorological knowledge or access to weather data." Vic started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. "Combined with access to the UCLA altitude study data, we're looking at a pretty specific profile."
Miles opened his phone and started typing notes.
“Could be a graduate student or research assistant.
Someone with technical knowledge but not necessarily an advanced degree.
Someone who feels personally connected to the research, who internalized Kane's philosophy about oxygen thieves.
Hell…we could be looking at meteorologists themselves. "
"And someone strong enough to handle unconscious victims and manage thirty-five or forty inflated balloons," Vic added. “But…you know what's really messed up about this?"
Miles looked at her. "What?"
"I'm actually afraid of heights." Vic kept her eyes on the road but there was a slight smile on her face, the kind that came from acknowledging something absurd. "Always have been. Can't even go up in glass elevators more than three or four floors without feeling sick."
"You're serious?"
"Completely. I do fine in planes because it’s all enclosed, you know…and I never looked out of the window. But put me on a balcony above the fifth floor and I start getting dizzy."
Miles found himself almost smiling despite the grim circumstances. "That's ironic, considering what we're investigating. God, I’m sorry, Vic."
"Eh, don’t be." Vic changed lanes smoothly as she chuckled. "I guess it makes me appreciate these victims even more. They weren't afraid. They spent their lives at heights that would paralyze me. And someone killed them for that."
The observation stayed with Miles as they continued driving. The killer hadn't just murdered these people. They had taken something from them, something essential. They had turned the victims' greatest strengths into the vehicle of their deaths.