Marcia Clark - Killer Ambition

If anyone understood survivor’s guilt, it was me, and thankfully, I could tell that Mackenzie’s father would do what had to be done. I didn’t know whether Mackenzie would do something crazy. I just knew I couldn’t take any chances. I wasn’t about to see yet another young life be destroyed by this nightmare of a case.

I pulled Baileyaside and told her what I’d just learned.

“So Hayley and Brian were definitely in on it together,” she said.

“And most likely were killed by the same person-”

“Or persons- ”

“-who had to have known about their plan in time to grab the money and kill them,” I said. “No way any of Hayley’s buddies would’ve done it.”

“No. We’ve got to dig into Brian’s life-find out who he was hanging with.”

But whoever it was had deliberately laid a false trail for us. I decided two could play this game. “Do you think we could keep Brian’s death under wraps for a while?”

“And hope our mystery man keeps dropping false clues?” Bailey asked. I nodded. “Brian’s aunt will keep for a little while. And I can warn these guys”-she tilted her head toward the officers on the scene-“but I can’t promise how long-”

In a case like this, no secret was going to keep for long. And we couldn’t let Janice find out about her nephew from the press. “But it’s worth a try, right? With a little more time, our mystery man might poke his head above the radar-at least once more.” And with a little luck, he’d poke it up nice and high, where I could snap it off.

Bailey gathered all the unis together and gave them the word not to file any reports or talk about what they’d seen until she gave the okay. They all nodded their agreement, though I noticed a couple of skeptical expressions.

I was exhausted in a way that was as much emotional as physical. Bailey too seemed a lot worse for wear, which was unusual for her. Through many all-nighters, she was always the one who looked disgustingly fresh when the rest of us seemed ridden hard and put back wet. But now her eyes, her mouth, her shoulders, all sagged, as if pulled down by fifty-pound weights. She wrapped up with the remaining officers and we trudged down the muddy, rocky trail to her car.

As we wound our way back down the mountain, I tried to dredge up names for any of Brian’s friends. No luck. I remembered that even his aunt hadn’t known of any. “The only places I can think to check are his jobs. He didn’t go to school here-”

“No,” Bailey said. “And I’ve been trying to figure out where he might’ve gotten the idea to stage the kidnapping-”

“You mean other than from himself-”

“Yeah, I don’t make him as the mastermind somehow. If you ask me, this was Hayley’s idea.”

It did have that teenagey melodramatic touch. But something about the whole kidnapping scheme bothered me. “If what Brian wanted was to avenge his father, then why only ask for a million dollars? Why not go for it and ask for half the profits on that film?”

“How would he know what that was? He was just a kid. He did what was easy. Hayley told him Russell kept a million in the house. He asked for that.”

I stared at Bailey. “Since when did you get to be such a softie?” Bailey was usually the one who landed on the most sinister motives for every move-whether that move was made by a child molester or a ninety-year-old who cheated at Bingo.

Bailey shrugged. After a few moments she said, “It’s just a feeling. Okay?”

“You’re entitled to ’em,” I said. “And I don’t disagree with you.”

Bailey dropped me off at the Biltmore with a warning that she’d be back to pick me up at eight o’clock tomorrow. I nodded wearily, got out and patted the roof, and Bailey sped off.

One hot shower later, I was in bed. Five minutes after that, I’d fallen asleep with all the lights on.

I’d set thealarm early enough to have breakfast and read the paper, but I accidentally hit the snooze button twice. The next time my eyes opened, it was seven thirty. I jerked myself out of bed and ran to the shower, hitting the TV remote on my way so I could check the morning news. I needed to find out whether word of Brian’s death had leaked. I cranked up the volume and scrubbed up quickly, listening as I braced for disaster. The hot water felt good on my shoulders and I’d just begun to relax when a familiar voice made me spin around and push open the shower door. I leaned out just in time to see Vanderhorn’s face behind a microphone. I grabbed a towel and ran over to the television.

Preening in the limelight, as usual, he affected his “I perform a somber duty” face. “We are continuing to develop leads and are working closely with officers who, I assure you, are going around the clock-”

A reporter interrupted him with a shouted question asking for new information. I held my breath. Vanderputz shouldn’t know about Brian, but…

“Ah…”

I could see he was aching to say something that’d get him more airtime. I squeezed the towel between my hands, wishing it was his neck. He continued.

“There is nothing more I can tell you at this time. But I believe in the public’s right to know, and the moment we have any new development…”

They let him finish the sentence, barely, before cutting away to tease sports and weather. I hurried back to the shower, light-headed with relief. Crisis averted. This one, anyway. I still needed to check the Internet.

I dressed and did my hair and makeup in record time, but just as I opened my laptop, Bailey called to say she was downstairs. Damn. I grabbed a cold bottle of water, wrapped half of my toasted bagel in a napkin, and sprinted for the elevator.

“You checked the Web for leaks?” I asked as I got into the car.

Bailey nodded. “So far, so good.”

We went back to Brian’s past jobs and asked more questions. All of his bosses and co-workers said the same thing: he was a good worker, a nice guy, but he didn’t hang out with anyone on a social basis and they didn’t know of any friends. The only person he’d ever mentioned was his aunt, Janice.

As we walked back to the car after the last stop, we passed an outdoor newsstand set under an awning against the wall of a building. I glanced at the newspapers displayed on the middle shelf. Every single paper had some mention of Hayley’s murder on the front page. Most featured a color reproduction of a particularly winsome pose above the fold. Not just one but three different tabloids carried a full story. Though I shuddered to think what was in those stories, I bought them all. I had to know what kind of misinformation was already being spread. We’d asked our respective offices to keep a tight lid on the details of how and where Hayley’d been found, but we knew that wouldn’t stop the lower-echelon workers at either the police station or the DA’s office from leaking stories-true or false-to reporters for fun, attention, and profit. I didn’t know whether we’d ever have a suspect to take to trial, but if we did, I would need a jury that hadn’t been tainted with lies and spin.

We got into the car and Bailey pulled out. I opened one of the papers to start reading, then realized it’d probably make me nauseated-and I don’t just mean from motion sickness. I folded it back up. It could wait till I got back to my office or the station.

“You have the guts to go hit SID and see if Dorian has anything?” I asked.

“Sure, I’m in the mood for a good ass-kicking.”

“Maybe if we bring her some lunch…”

“Dorian doesn’t eat,” Bailey said.

But I did, and I was hungry. Two tacos and a quesadilla later, we were rolling into the parking lot of SID. We found Dorian staring into a microscope at her bench. When we got within ten feet, she looked up and grimaced.