Marcia Clark - Blood Defense

I had a feeling I knew what had just happened as I waited for the next image.

He came back into the bedroom holding his robe in one hand and a cell phone in the other. He dropped the robe on the bed and punched in a number on the phone. He stood listening for a few seconds, then punched the keys again. He raked a hand through his wet hair and paced as he listened. I saw his lips move; then he lowered the phone and paced some more. It looked like he’d gotten someone’s voice mail and left a message. A few seconds later, he punched in another number. He began to pace again as he listened, but this time he didn’t speak. Whoever he was calling wasn’t answering.

He threw the phone down, sat on the bed, put his head in his hands, and rocked back and forth. A few seconds later, he snatched the phone back up. This time someone answered. I saw his lips move as his hand made sharp, emphatic movements. He picked up his wet jeans and his robe as he spoke. Then he walked out of the room. The camera flickered again.

I held my breath, not knowing what I hoped to see. But the next frame showed a ragged-looking man in a battered trench coat carrying a paper bag. He took a swig from the bag, looked around, then flopped down on the bed. We kept watching, but the rest of the images showed only that man and his friends-probably our not-so-friendly squatters.

Alex finally turned off the camera. “I guess that’s all we’ve got.”

I stared at the blank television screen. “Is there any way to retrieve a date and time from that footage?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said. “I could try.” He put down the remote. “But I think I have an idea who that blond man is.”

I did, too. “Mr. Perfect.” He sure fit the bill, with his well-groomed hair and super-toned body. We knew Paige had started seeing him in January, so this footage was definitely taken after that. I mentally reviewed the images we’d just seen. “Looks to me like he might’ve killed Marc and dragged his body out into the ocean. That’s why he was soaking wet when he came back in through the sliding glass door-”

Alex stood up. “And why we didn’t see Marc again-”

Michelle frowned. “But how do we prove that? There’s no time or date stamp on that footage. For all we know, Marc just passed out in the living room-or got knocked out-and Mr. Perfect took off.”

Good question. I paced as I replayed the footage in my head. “Alex, can you give us the first frame with Paige again?”

He started the camera and paused when Paige came into view. I studied the frame. “Is there any footage before that?” He restarted the camera from the very beginning. When it showed the blond man moving toward the nightstand, I told him to stop. I searched for what I thought I’d seen before. And found it. I pointed to a leopard-print skirt and black blouse on the floor near the nightstand. “That’s Paige’s skirt and blouse. Remember? They were in the crime-scene photos at her apartment. The cops found them in the hamper.”

Alex sat back and nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. And those were the only clothes in her hamper. So this must’ve happened the night she died.”

If Paige and Marc died on the same night, it was no coincidence. That meant Chloe really wasn’t the target. Paige was. And Mr. Perfect was looking good as the girls’ real killer. But as I thought about what we had, I shook my head. “The problem is, Marc’s friends weren’t specific about when they last saw him, and the coroner was pretty vague about how long he’d been in the water. So we can’t say for sure whether that footage was taken the night Marc died. We need more.” I started to pace. “But one thing I am sure of: that blond man is Mr. Perfect. Dale said that’s who she was going to see that night.”

Alex frowned. “You think he killed Paige to keep her quiet?”

I shrugged. “Him, or the person he called.” I again replayed the video footage in my mind. “But the pieces fit. We just need to figure out who he is.”

Alex added, “And who he called.”

Michelle gave me a warning look. “But we agreed whoever’s behind all this is out to kill us-and he’s already killed Storm. So we’re going to let the police take over now, right?” She watched me pace, then repeated with a lot more force, “ Right , Sam?”

I stopped pacing and faced her. “Here’s the thing. As of now, we have some decent theories. But like you said, for all we know, Marc just took off after the fight. In which case, Mr. Perfect had no motive to kill Paige.”

Michelle frowned at me. “But he was soaking wet when he came back into the bedroom, and he looked pretty freaked out-”

“So? He’ll say he went outside to get some air and fell in the water. He was obviously drinking and coking.”

Alex nodded. “And he was freaked out because Marc might talk about their threesome. If we’re right that Mr. Perfect’s married, that’d be very bad news.”

“Exactly,” I said. “But that footage doesn’t pin him down as Marc’s killer. He’ll say Marc left with Paige and that’s all he knows.”

Michelle shook her head. “But when Marc left the bedroom, he was naked.”

I shrugged. “He had clothes in the living room. Or he grabbed a kitchen towel when he ran out. No. We need more before we call in the troops. I don’t want to give them any room to dust this off as defense bullshit.” I paced back and forth in front of the television.

Michelle gave me a sour look. “You have any idea how to do that?”

“For starters, by finding out who Mr. Perfect is.”

Michelle sighed and nodded.“He doesn’t look the type to just break in, so he must be a friend of the owners. What’d that mechanic say their names were?”

Alex stood up. “Cory and Sarah Larsen. Let me get my laptop and see what we can find on them.”

When he came back, I told him to check his phone for the photos I’d taken in the bedroom. “I got pictures of the photos on their dresser and the phone number that was on a pad next to the bed.”

Alex picked up his phone and scrolled through his photos. “Let’s check out that phone number first.”

I sat down on the couch next to Michelle. “You notice how the first image on that camera is the owner setting it up, testing it?” Michelle nodded. “And then the very next image is of Mr. Perfect with Paige and Marc. Looks to me like he set up that camera expecting to get some hot footage-”

Alex looked up. “Yeah. You know, I thought it was weird that he didn’t set up any surveillance cameras for the outside of the house. The one in his bedroom is the only one I saw. Now it makes sense.”

Michelle made a face. “He invited his buddy over to use his place and then put in the camera to spy on him?”

“Sure seems that way. It didn’t look like anyone knew it was there.” I thought about those disgusting printouts of women with animals. “But being the lovers of the animal kingdom that they are, it actually makes sense.”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

Alex sat back and read from the monitor. “Okay, that phone number on the notepad belongs to the Larsens. It’s a global plan, and they opened the account in January.”

Just before they left for Thailand. “Nice work.” I knew having a hacker on the team would come in handy. I started to pace again. I sifted through all the information we had, trying to figure out how we could use this. And got an idea.

“Alex, can you find out whether they’re on Snapchat or Instagram, anything like that?”

“For sending photos?” I nodded. “No. No way they’d use Snapchat or Instagram. Not for what they’re into.”

I stared at him. “Don’t Snapchat photos disappear after a few seconds?”