Chapter 32
I got to the station, dropped the binder off with Colt, and went straight down to the tech department.
I wanted another look at the video from the storage unit—specifically to see whether Evan Coker resembled the suspect we had on video.
I bet I watched the clip ten times, but there wasn’t much to be had.
The poor quality of the footage gave us almost nothing.
And there was no way that I could determine whether it was him.
Not seeing anyone from my team back at their desks in the bullpen, I quickly hit my office, scooped up my phone, and rang Steve.
“Walsh,” he answered.
“Hey, it’s Harrington. Where are you guys at?”
“We’re knocking on doors about a half mile from Sloan’s house,” Steve said. “At least, Ryan and I are. Garcia couldn’t meet with Mehen’s wife until after four, so he just left us about fifteen minutes ago to head in her direction. Why? Something up?”
I gave him an extra-condensed version of my day, the connection between Coker, the furniture stores, and the letter, and said I was about to head to Coker’s house to see what I could find out.
“Ah. Well, I mean I could probably roll with you, but I don’t think I’ll be back for at least an hour.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just going to grab a couple Midwest guys and go. Are you guys having any luck?”
“Ah, I don’t know. I mean, technically, maybe.”
“What?” I asked.
“We talked with an older woman. This was at the first house on Sloan’s street inside the gates.
Anyway, the woman we hadn’t talked to before—I guess she’d left that Monday for a planned hip surgery or something and was in the hospital for some days after.
Now, she claims that she heard a bang and then tires squeal a few weeks back.
But first and foremost, she was wearing hearing aids when she was talking to us.
So take that for whatever it means. Anyway, she looked out of her window and saw a car speeding away. She said the car didn’t look new.”
“So an older woman, wearing hearing aids, claiming she heard something weeks ago?” I asked.
“Yeah. Well, when you say it like that, it sounds like a serious reach. But again, she claimed to see the vehicle. I showed her a picture of an older Honda Accord. She said that it could have been that vehicle. I know that this is all pretty thin, but I guess it is something.”
“Yeah,” I said. “No cameras around there, though?”
“Of course not,” Steve said.
“All right. Well, keep doing what you guys are doing. I’m going to go see what I get at this guy’s house.”
“Sounds good. I’ll catch you at the office. Or I’ll give you a buzz if you aren’t back before I head out for the day.”
“Yep. Talk to you later.”
I hung up, found Halloway for a quick talk, then left the building.
I drove straight to the Midwest Patrol building out front of our complex and walked in.
It wasn’t much more than ten minutes and I had Donaghy sitting shotgun in my cruiser with Rey and Kincaid following us.
All three guys had been on the scene that morning, and it took only a second for me to bring them up to speed.
Evan Coker’s listed address was on the golf course immediately north of my subdivision, his house probably not more than a mile as the crow flies from my own, and probably less distance from John Russell’s.
We entered Coker’s neighborhood and wove our way through never-ending town houses toward the back of the subdivision, where his property was located.
When we reached his building, I pulled off to the right.
The Spanish-style terra-cotta-roofed townhomes all looked to be from the seventies, with iron-gated carports beside matching iron-gated alcoves that led to the front doors.
Rey pulled the cruiser up to my driver’s-side door, and I lowered my window. Kincaid, sitting shotgun in Rey’s car, dropped his window.
“Which one is his?” Rey asked from the driver’s seat.
“End unit,” I said. “And it looks like he’s here.” I pointed toward the beige Toyota parked in the carport.
“All right. How do you want to do this?” Rey asked.
“I figured maybe you could be my muscle when I go to the door,” I said. “Maybe Donaghy and Kincaid can walk up with us and kind of keep eyes on the side and back of the property in case he tries to run.”
“I’m fine with that,” Rey said.
Kincaid nodded. “All good.”
I glanced toward Donaghy, who said he was okay with it.
“Park your cruiser behind his carport.”
“Got it,” he said.
Donaghy and I left the Explorer and met Kincaid and Rey as they were getting out of their car. Rey and I walked to the gate that led to the front door. I turned the knob, expecting it to be locked, but it was open.
“How about that,” I said.
I pointed toward Donaghy and the side of the building.
He and Kincaid passed us and disappeared along the side of the town house.
Rey stood to the left of the door, me to the right as I hit the doorbell.
I heard nothing. No dog barking, no sounds of anyone coming, maybe not even the doorbell ringing.
“Did you hear the doorbell?” I asked.
Rey shook his head.
I tried the doorbell again then balled a fist and gave the door a handful of good raps, leaving zero chance that whoever was inside didn’t hear me knocking. We waited, and nobody came. I looked up and around the doorway for cameras but saw none.
After I gave another knock on the door and again got no answer, we gathered at the front of Rey’s cruiser.
“Run that tag quick,” I said. “Let’s make sure that Toyota is his.”
Rey ducked into his car and popped back out within a few seconds. “Evan Coker,” he said. “Tags are current. And no warrants.”
“Yeah, well, that may end up changing.” I looked at Donaghy and Kincaid. “Anything going on in the back?”
“There’s a little patio out there that’s separated from the neighbor’s place by a cinder block wall. Sliding door that leads into the home. The vertical blinds are drawn, but the house looks dark inside.”
“So maybe he actually isn’t home,” Rey said.
“Possibility,” I said.
“So now what?” Donaghy asked. “What’s the move? We could probably park one of our rookies on the place.”
“I really want to talk to this guy,” I said. “Give me one second. I want to make a call quick.”
I stepped away and dialed Colt.
“What’s up?” Colt answered.
“Hey. Did you get anything else from that letter?” He’d still been working on it when I dropped off the binder with him.
“Nah, not really,” he said. “I came up blank on the prints. Both on the envelope and letter itself. I swabbed the areas around the adhesive in hopes of getting some DNA, but obviously, that’s not immediate.
I didn’t find any fibers, hairs or otherwise.
The paper and envelope are standard stuff sold anywhere and everywhere.
The only thing really left to try would be to pull each individual letter and see what kind of adhesive was used and see if there are any prints on the back sides of the letters.
But for us to do that, we’d pretty much have to destroy the letter, and I’m not sure that’s the right move right now. ”
“Nah. I would hold off on that for now,” I said. “How about the binder? Did those letters all match up?”
“I’m about to start going letter by letter, but after giving it a glance and finding another couple letters that matched, I would say that this was without a doubt the source material.”
“Okay. I guess confirmation is good. What else do you have?”
“We’re processing the rest of the John Russell stuff in hopes of finding something,” Colt said. “We’ve got his clothing to go through, the bag, and the tape used to secure the bag.”
“Start on that before spending any more time on the letter,” I said. “We pretty much know where the letters came from now. Let’s try to find something to advance this.”
“Gotcha,” he said. “I talked to Halloway a second ago. He said that you went out to the guy’s house. Anything?”
“We’re here now. But it doesn’t seem like our guy is,” I said. “I think we’ll have someone from Midwest sit on the place until he comes back.”
“Probably not a bad idea,” Colt said. “He’s checking a couple boxes that he definitely shouldn’t be.”
I agreed. I wrapped up my conversation with Colt and had the Midwest guys call someone out to sit on the place for us—specifically plain clothes and an unmarked car. I didn’t want Mr. Coker to spot a patrol car and bail before I had a chance to be in front of him.