Макс Коллинз - No One Will Hear You

Chase was well aware that Jenny and her computer could do this better than such old-school methods, but she listened hard anyway. And anyway there was still plenty her human brain could process that an electronic one couldn’t. She got nothing out of it, though. She repeated the process and again zippo.

Turning the sound down this time, she started working through the video a frame at a time.

The video was high-def. At least that small detail told her something — this killer either had some money or was a thief. Home-video high-def camcorders had come down in price, but were not cheap.

No sign that the woman, during the sex act, sensed anything wrong until the last second. Nor any indication the victim knew she was being recorded.

Still, this was the acting town, so who could say? The camera stayed in a fixed position, hidden, possibly behind two-way glass.

Next time through, Chase studied the room itself. Walls were dark, furniture limited to the brass bed and a barely visible nightstand, covered with some sort of filmy fabric, atop which sat what appeared to be a simple glass vase filled with roses.

She focused on the flowers. Aside from that philodendron, she knew squat about plants. Roses came in colors and there were scads of varieties, but that was the extent of her expertise.

Bed against a wall. Not a hotel room — Don Juan had a place of his own, she figured. She looked for shadows that might give away the position of a window or the sun or any damn thing...

... but there was nothing.

This bastard would kill again if they didn’t stop him; he would accelerate, as promised, if they didn’t get him before he knew Harrow had not acceded to his demands.

There had to be something in this video, but Chase was damned if she could find it. Sitting back and sighing and shaking her head, she hoped the rest of the team was having better luck.

Then she started again.

Amari felt something twist inside her as she watched this morning’s corpse return to life. Not quite vibrant life, because the blonde seemed druggy to Amari. Still, the woman appeared to be enjoying the sex she shared with her barely glimpsed lover.

She made a mental note to make a priority of checking the victim’s tox screen. She already suspected that Don Juan had dosed his victim with flunitrazepam, better known by the trade name Rohypnol, more commonly called roofies.

When the video ended, Harrow closed the lid of the laptop with a somber finality.

Polk sat with a wide-eyed, bloodless expression, still trying to process what he’d just seen.

They were in Harrow’s office at UBC. Harrow was behind his desk, and network president Dennis Byrnes and attorney, Lucian Richards, Jr., bookended Amari and Polk, in visitor’s chairs.

Amari said to Harrow, “When exactly did you receive this, Mr. Harrow?”

“One of our writer-producers, Carmen Garcia, showed it to me early this afternoon She interrupted a meeting I was having with Dennis.”

Amari nodded. “But you didn’t call the police until when?”

“I’m sure you know when the call came in.”

Byrnes said, “We wanted to get an educated opinion on what this thing is, before calling you.”

“Well, it’s somebody cutting a woman’s throat, Mr. Byrnes, and then stabbing her repeatedly.”

“Lieutenant Amari, we get a lot of prank and crank tips at Crime Seen . We needed to try to ascertain if this was genuine or staged, before possibly wasting your time.”

“Just what scientific standards did you use to deduce whether or not this is footage of a real murder?”

Harrow said, “You probably know we have a top forensics team, culled from law enforcement all around the country. We got their read on it. Subjective but informed.”

The lawyer, Richards, said, “Mr. Byrnes also called me in for an opinion. I’m no forensics expert, but if this is genuinely someone committing murder to try to blackmail his way onto one of the network’s shows, getting a legal read on the situation was prudent.”

Amari’s half smile joined an arched eyebrow. “Obstructing justice is prudent in your view, Counselor?”

“Obstruction of justice was hardly our intention. We called you, and you’re sitting here now, and we’re cooperating. Why are we splitting hairs over a few minutes?”

“Your intention here is pretty clear, Counselor. Mr. Byrnes was trying to figure a way not to get burned by this thing... and you made him call us.”

“Actually,” Byrnes said, raising a forefinger in a point of clarification manner, “I didn’t make the call...”

She frowned at the exec.

Harrow leaned nearer her. “I did.”

“Why you?” Amari asked.

“Because I’m at the top of the Crime Seen food chain.”

“Not over the network president, you aren’t. What made any of you decide to call at all? You could’ve buried this thing. Deleted it, and if somehow you got called on it, dismissed your actions by saying you thought it was a hoax.”

He nodded toward the laptop. “I think a young woman is dead, and somewhere a family is wondering why they haven’t heard from their little girl.”

Amari said nothing, just cast a glance toward Polk, who was watching the exchange intently, but staying out of it.

Harrow caught the look.

“You already knew,” he said.

Byrnes said, “Already knew what?”

Both Amari and Harrow ignored that.

“I already knew,” she admitted with a nod.

Byrnes insisted: “Knew what? “

The lawyer answered in his sonorous rumble: “That the woman was dead.”

Harrow said, “You found her. Where?”

Amari’s smile was gentle despite the tension. “Do you really expect me to answer that?”

Harrow smiled back. “Sometimes I forget I’m the media now. I was a cop for a long, long time.”

“I could tell you off the record.”

Polk said, “Lieutenant, I don’t think—”

She raised a hand to silence her partner.

“Off the record,” Harrow said quietly. “Have you identified her?”

Amari gave him the broad outline — the body at the Hollywood sign, the roses, the note, the booby-trapped control box.

“I appreciate this,” Harrow said.

“Don’t be too grateful. That’s no more than’ll be on the LAPD press release. You’re just getting it a few hours early.” She nodded toward the laptop. “Obviously we need that video.”

He shrugged. “My computer expert, Jenny Blake, will arrange to give your techs access to everything you’ll need. In the meantime, we can give you a DVD.”

“Appreciate that. And we’ll want to talk to Ms. Garcia. But there’s one more thing. Something you won’t like, Mr. Harrow.”

“Try me.”

“You and your people — your so-called Killer TV forensics superstars? You need to stay away from this investigation.”

Byrnes sat exclamation-mark straight. “Lieutenant, Crime Seen is, in its way, a news show. We reserve our constitutional right to cover a news story... and this is most definitely a news story.”

Amari glared at the exec. “First of all, Crime Seen is not a news show. It’s reality TV. Don’t piss in my ear, Mr. Byrnes, because I know rain when I hear it.”

Byrnes shifted in his chair.

“Second, if you interfere with this investigation in any way, you will soon learn how serious a charge obstruction of justice can be. And all of you connected to that video, and the decision on how and when to bring the LAPD into it, will quickly find out just how much fun it is cooling your heels as material witnesses in lockup.”

The attorney spoke gentle thunder: “Lieutenant Amari, UBC will do whatever you ask, whatever you say.”