Chapter Eight
It was one of the victim’s calmer moments, which didn’t necessarily make it any easier to watch. Tanner was afraid she was giving up hope. Everyone was.
Bree’s plan needed to work more than ever.
The footage was nearly a minute long this time and the entire room’s attention darted back and forth between Bree and the woman on the screen. Once the screen flicked to black and the transmission was over, everyone’s attention turned completely to Bree.
She finally looked up. “I got it.” She rattled off an address and street name.
“Are you sure?” Penelope asked.
“Yes. That’s where this transmission was routed from. Why?”
“If I’m not mistaken that’s a residential area. We’re going to have to get a warrant,” Penelope said.
Jeremy was already at his computer. “Address belongs to a Patricia Webster. She’s actually retired and lives in Tampa. But her twenty-two-year-old son, Elliot Webster, currently resides at Mom’s house.”
Penelope started rattling off orders. “Leon, I need you to get me a warrant for this address. Karen, get some local uniforms out there until we arrive. Tell them not to engage, but to check for anything that would give them probable cause to enter. Jeremy, I need to know everything there is to know about Elliot Webster by the time we roll up at his house.”
Everyone burst into movement.
Tanner looked over at Bree. She was walking toward him, holding a laptop in front of her, typing on the keyboard with one hand.
“You ready to go?” he asked.
She nodded, still typing. “I’m gathering info on Elliot Webster. In case Jeremy...misses any.”
Meaning, in case the legal channels Jeremy was required to go through didn’t bring up all the information. But Tanner wasn’t going to give her a hard time about how she was getting her info right now. This wasn’t his case, and a woman’s life was at stake.
“Bree,” Penelope called out. “We’ve got nearly the entire four hours until the transmission you need comes around, right?”
Bree looked up from her computer. “Yes, but I’ve got to find the computer being used as the conduit before that time. It could be anywhere in or near that address.”
“Then let’s roll,” the woman said. “We’ve got a judge who’s been kept abreast of the case. Getting the warrant should be fast.”
Bree was still working at her computer when Tanner tucked her into the car and Whitaker drove toward the address she’d given them, following behind Penelope and her crew.
Bree read from her computer. “It looks like Elliot Webster is an engineering student at UT Dallas. High GPA. Never been arrested or in any trouble at all.”
“Anything in the unofficial version?” Tanner asked.
“Not so far. Some clubs at school, a couple of part-time jobs.”
“Where at?” Tanner turned to look at her in the back seat.
“Pizza delivery a couple of years ago and one of those giant home improvement stores for the last eighteen months.”
“Good place to get low-density polyethylene and any other materials needed to build your very own coffin-sized human aquarium,” Whitaker muttered.
“Is this house we’re going to anywhere near where the first two victims were found?” Tanner asked.
“Not at all. I’m as surprised as Penelope that this was where the killer was operating. It’s an older neighborhood. Not very upscale, but pretty quiet.”
“This probably isn’t where the killer is operating,” Bree said. “He’s just rerouting through his system here.”
Tanner rubbed his eyes. “Why would he do that at his own house?”
“That’s a good point.” Bree’s fingers began clicking on the keyboard again.
“Elliot Webster could just be a patsy, and someone is using his house while he’s not aware.
But it’s also possible that Webster is the killer and he never thought anyone would figure out his pattern and break his little code. ”
When they pulled up in front of the house, Tanner understood why Penelope had been so surprised at the address.
It was a nice neighborhood—small houses with well-manicured lawns.
The type that had Neighborhood Watches and little old ladies peeking out their windows to see what was happening with their neighbors.
Not the type of place to easily get kidnap victims in and out of without being seen.
They parked and Penelope immediately knocked on the front door to make sure no one was around.
While they waited for the search warrant since there was no one in the home in immediate danger, the team spread out, looking around the yard and questioning the neighbors.
Bree and Jeremy continued to dig for info on Elliot Webster, including known associates.
Less than thirty minutes later they got word the warrant had been approved.
“Let’s move in,” Penelope said. “You want to come, Tanner?”
He looked over at Bree.
“Go ahead,” she said. “You’ll do more good in there than out here. I’m going to stay and see what else I can dig up on Elliot.”
Penelope handed him a Kevlar vest and began strapping on her own. “What exactly are we looking for in there, Bree?”
“Anything computer related. Try not to touch it if possible. He might have it rigged to notify him if someone messes with it.”
Penelope nodded and moved quickly to the front door. Tanner joined Whitaker and they jogged up the front porch steps together.
“Leon and I will swing around to the right,” Penelope said. “Whit and Tanner, you head to the left. Everybody stay sharp. I know we don’t expect trouble here, but that doesn’t mean we won’t find it.”
She banged on the door. “This is the Dallas police. We have a search warrant for this property and need you to open the door.”
Nobody answered. Penelope knocked and identified herself one more time. Everyone had their weapons raised as Leon kicked in the door with as little damage as possible a few seconds later.
Inside, Tanner and Whitaker swung to the left as instructed, checking each room and making sure no one was hiding anywhere. Penelope and Leon did the same on the other side of the house and they eventually met up back in the kitchen.
“We’re clear,” Whitaker said. “Nobody in the east side of the house.”
Penelope and Leon nodded. “Nobody on our side either.”
The all holstered their weapons. Now the search began.
“What sort of computer are we looking for?” Whitaker walked around the living room. “Laptop? Desktop?”
Tanner shrugged. “She didn’t specify, so keep an eye out for either.”
Thirty minutes into searching the house and there was no computer showing up anywhere. Tanner had double-checked all the rooms in the small house himself. They’d all double-checked.
“What kind of engineering student doesn’t have a computer at his house?” Whitaker asked.
The kind trying to hide a murder.
All four of them made their way back to Elliot’s room, the master bedroom.
The room was neat, bed made. Different posters hung on the walls—some constellations, an Escher print and a shot of Kate Upton, the famous Sports Illustrated swimsuit model.
Tanner took a look in the walk-in closet again.
Small, but nothing suspicious in there either.
It was all just vastly ordinary.
“Nothing about this screams serial killer,” Tanner said. “And yet...”
“There’s something about this room that’s just off,” Whitaker muttered.
“Exactly. Too perfect, right? Staged to look like how a college student’s room should appear.
” Tanner studied the poster of the beautiful woman in the bikini and where it was situated on the wall.
Definitely not where a college kid would put it.
“It has to be staged. The Kate Upton poster gives it away.”
Whitaker crouched near the bed and whistled through his teeth. “I think you’re right.”
Penelope came farther into the room behind them, staring at the poster. “Why does this give anything away? What are you seeing that I’m not?”
Whitaker smiled ruefully. “You’ll have to lie down on the bed to understand what we mean.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s creepy, Whit. You’ve gotten weird since you moved to Colorado.”
He chuckled. “I know. Just do it.”
Penelope lay down, looking ready to jump back up any second. “Okay, I’m down here. What?”
Tanner stepped out of the way so that Penelope had a clearer view of the wall where the posters hung. “What do you see on the walls?”
“The bookshelf is blocking Size DD over there. All I can see are the constellation posters.”
“Exactly.” Tanner crossed his arms over his chest. “No twenty-two-year-old male would hang that poster of Kate Upton where it couldn’t be seen from the bed.”
Penelope jumped up from the bed with a shudder. “Okay. But what does it mean?”
Tanner spun around the room again slowly. “It means Elliot Webster is trying to make his mom and anyone else who might visit think that everything is normal with him at first glance. Which means he has some other place that he considers his personal space and feels more comfortable than this room.”
“Then why did Bree’s calculations lead us here?” Penelope asked. “If this isn’t where he spends his time—and obviously isn’t where he has his computer—why are we here?”
Tanner shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe we need to bring her in to look around. See if she sees anything we don’t.”
They searched through the books and CDs on the shelves but found nothing of interest. The dresser drawers produced clothes, but nothing suspicious.
The walk-in closet was as organized as the bedroom and just as innocuous. A few shirts and pants hanging in the small space. Shoes scattered along the ground. A couple boxes filled with some useless junk—more books, some camping gear, sleeping bags.
Nothing that helped them in any way.
Penelope let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t see anything in here. Grab some of his shoes. We’ll take them back to the lab and see if they can find traces of anything, since he’s obviously not holding a woman in this house.”
Tanner grabbed a pair of well-worn tennis shoes closest to the door and decided to add the hiking boots that sat in the back corner.
One came easily; the other seemed to be stuck to the floor. He tugged hard on it and watched in disbelief as the back panel of the closet clicked open.
His weapon was in his hand in less than a second.
“Guys!” he called, keeping his Glock pointed at the open space in front of him. “There’s some sort of secret room behind this wall. I pulled on a shoe and this door cracked open.”
There was some sort of secret room behind the closet. No wonder the damned thing seemed so small.
Penelope and Whitaker both rushed back into the closet behind him.
Whitaker cursed when he saw the open panel. “Are you kidding me?”
Tanner tilted his head toward the doorway. “Cover me. I’m going in.”
Whitaker moved into place, drawing his weapon and holding the door open. Tanner moved slowly through the opening, ducking since it was only about half the size of a normal door, his own Glock pointed in front of him.
It didn’t take long to realize the small room, about half the size of the closet, since that was exactly what it was, didn’t have any people in it. There was nowhere to hide anything in here.
But there were definitely computers. A dozen of them. A comfy chair. A well-worn desk.
This was Elliot’s personal space.
“It’s clear. But we need to get Bree and Jeremy in here right away. We’ve definitely found our link to the killer.”