Robin Burcell - Face of a Killer

“Yeah,” Schermer said, eyeing the sketch. “Carillo was telling me that they found some bits of taillight out at Golden Gate Park and white paint transfer, and that you and Fitzpatrick saw a white utility truck out at the hospital. Any chance the two are related, being that both vehicles are white? Maybe the guy Fitz saw driving the truck is this guy?” He held up the sketch.

Dixon said, “I didn’t actually see the truck. Fitzpatrick did. But Maggie took the pieces of taillight from Stow Lake to the lab to get a parts identification… Maggie?” She was seated at the table, and stood so everyone could hear her. “According to SFPD’s incident report of the suspicious person at the hospital, an Officer Harper described the vehicle as a newer model Chevy utility truck. That doesn’t match the bits of taillight found at the Stow Lake crime scene, which belong to a 1970s style of Dodge van. So, other than both are white, we are talking about two unrelated vehicles.”

Sydney stilled at the mention of the utility truck, not because of the possibility that the vehicles might have been related. It was more the feeling she recalled, of being watched that night, first at the bar she’d left, then later that night in the hospital parking lot as the truck drove by her… “That guy raced out of there so fast, we had to dive out of the way,” she whispered to Carillo.

“Which fits with a burglar, trying to get the hell out of there.”

And she realized that was entirely possible, that he could’ve just been trying to get out. A burglar fleeing the scene? Or something else altogether…

Her gaze flew to Scotty’s, and she found it curious he wouldn’t even look at her. How long had he and his team been watching her? Since she’d left the bar that night? She’d definitely thought she was being followed then. One of Scotty’s team?

She thought about the truck in the parking lot, the guy getting out, moving specifically to Dixon’s car after they’d gone into the hospital… They’d placed a GPS device on her car to keep track of her, so why not Dixon’s? What should have been a simple piece of surveillance work failed because they hadn’t realized she’d be watching from the window. Unfortunately, before she could walk over and ask Scotty, Dixon called for everyone to open up his op plan, which contained all contact info, personnel, cars assigned, cell phone numbers, and hospital locations, in essence, operation plans for everything they’d need should the shit hit the fan. “As you can see,” he said, “we’re expecting this to be lowkey. Schermer has an update on our UnSub that just came in. Michael?”

“I went out this afternoon, talked to the bartender who called us to say he overheard a couple talking about Fitzpatrick’s drawing. Turns out the bartender’s not the one who heard it, like we thought when we got the call. He heard someone talking about someone who heard it.”

“Great,” Carillo said. “Won’t be any hearsay issues there.”

“The good news,” Schermer continued, “is that he thinks he can put you and Fitz in touch with someone who may know who it was that did the talking.”

“Getting murkier by the second,” Carillo whispered.

“Who’s supposed to meet up with us?” Sydney asked Schermer.

“Someone named Candy. That’s all we know. You’ll meet up with her at the Gold Ox, since that’s where our informant said she last saw the Jane Doe, who apparently went there, thinking higher-class place, more money from clients.”

She looked at Carillo and said, “If that’s high-class, wonder where it was she’d been working before.”

Dixon cut in with “Okay. That should cover everything. You two meet up with her, determine if she knows who it is you need to talk to. Get a name, see if it was our Jane Doe, hit the other area bars that our Jane Doe was seen in, pop open a beer in each, move to the next bar.”

“Do we get to drink the beer?” Carillo asked.

Dixon ignored his comment and said, “Also note that SFPD sent out a warning that a purse snatcher is still working the area, and if we catch him, they’d appreciate it. Just don’t blow this operation on a purse snatcher. Any questions from the support agents?”

No one had any, and Dixon told them to hit the streets.

Sydney made a beeline for Scotty, who was heading out the door and walking toward the elevator. “Scotty!” He stopped, and when she caught up to him, he said, “This is not a good time.”

“Sounds like it’s never going to be a good time.”

Carillo walked up, just as the elevators opened. “You two lovebirds want to step in, or you flying down?”

Scotty shot him a look of disapproval, but said nothing, and the three of them stepped away from the elevator, and the presence of several other agents who walked up, waiting for the next car. When the other agents stepped on and the door closed, she asked Scotty, “Was that one of your men at the hospital that night?”

Carillo’s brows lifted, but he remained silent, as Scotty held her gaze, took a resigned sigh, and said, “Yes.”

“Was he placing a GPS device on Dixon’s car, too?”

“He did. It has since been removed, once he determined just whose car it was.”

“This is rich,” Carillo said, laughing. “Dixon’s car, too?”

Sydney turned to him. “You might want to ask if there’s one on yours.”

“Better not be.”

“There isn’t. But we did consider it.”

“Good thing you re considered.” Carillo glanced at his watch. “Look, we need to get the hell out there, so if I can make a suggestion? Go out, arrest this asshole who made the death threat, and let Fitz and the rest of us get on with our lives?”

“Super plan,” Scotty said. “You know who to arrest? Because frankly, I’d like to find the right guy, in case he’s fucking serious, and decides to take her out when we arrest the wrong goddamned person.” The elevator opened, and Scotty stepped on. “You two want a ride out there?”

Carillo held up the op plan. “Erickson’s giving us a lift. But thanks for the offer,” he said, in a voice that didn’t sound grateful. Scotty disappeared into the elevator. After the door closed, Carillo said, “Okay, he’s rattled.”

“I gave him the bank bag.”

“And you think that’s what shook him up?”

“Big time. So, could you decipher what was in it any better?”

“Account numbers, names. I’m guessing in code, at least some of them. Come on back. I’ll show you while we’re waiting for Erickson.”

“I gathered from Robert Orozco that whatever it contained, it would point to all the major players.”

“I’d let Doc Schermer have a peek.”

“I don’t know… They’re shooting people over this stuff.”

“He used to work all that bank fraud. He was even around back when BICTT was making its splash at HQ. Besides, you don’t think Scotty’s gonna clue you in, do you?”

“Good point.”

“I made two copies before I put the original back in the pouch, so you can decide what you want to do with it.” He glanced at his watch as they walked through the hallway back to their office. “We need to be out front in five minutes.”

“Any more thoughts on that suicide note and how it ties in?”

“Nothing to figure out, with the magic acronym, BICTT, mentioned not once, but twice in it. CIA’s been through so 228 Robin Burcell much shit, last thing they want to do is open up an old can of worms. Come to think of it, they were probably scrambling to find out just who all McKnight mentioned. Maybe they’re the ones who followed you down to Baja, deciding if they couldn’t figure out who everyone was, maybe you could?”

“You mean tying them to the bank scandal?”