Leslie Parrish - Fade To Black

Even the CATs who weren’t in town remained active in the investigation. Wyatt had been in constant contact. Lily had apparently discovered something about the way the money was moved and felt sure she’d have new information when the banks opened in the morning.

But they didn’t even know that they had until morning.

There was one more interesting development involving Stacey’s brother’s friend, Mr. Covey. Not hard evidence, but something to keep in mind. Dean was anxious to share it with her. So when he got her call asking him to come alone to her father’s house right away, he wasted no time.

She answered the door immediately. “We’ve got something.”

Her voice sounded different. On the phone twenty minutes ago, she’d sounded exhausted, resigned even. Now, despite the paleness of her face and the circles under her eyes, she looked energetic. Keyed up. As though whatever she had, it was big.

“Come in here.” She dashed down the short hallway into her father’s kitchen, beckoning him to the laptop. Mr. Rhodes stood by the counter, nodding in welcome but saying nothing.

“You’ve spotted someone on the surveillance video?”

“It’s my brother,” Stacey explained.

She said it so matter-of-factly, he didn’t really have time to process it at first. When the words did hit his brain and sink in, he felt an explosion of emotion. Elation that they might have found their unsub. Desolation at what this could mean for Stacey.

Stacey was clicking the keyboard. “See? There he is. He was in the mall, but he wasn’t stalking her.”

“Stacey, I know he’s your brother…”

She threw a hand up, stopping him from speaking. “No, listen, please. Tim told me something a few days ago that explains this.” She clicked a window on the surveillance video, splitting the screen to show two camera views. “We’d been looking at the interior, the closest entrance, and the parking lot. We weren’t looking behind the store.” She tapped the tip of her finger on one side of the screen. “Watch!”

He watched. A semi truck was backed up to a loading ramp, two young men wheeling big, TV-size boxes up it. While they made their second trip, a man rounded the cab from the passenger side.

It was Tim, the brother of the woman he’d come to care so much about. “I see.”

“Shh.”

Tim, easily identifiable because of his scars, walked to the driver’s-side door and waited for the driver to hop down.

That driver was Randy Covey.

“Tim told me he’d been doing a couple of ride-alongs with Randy lately. That’s why he was in that mall. He was just a passenger with no say in the destination.”

She cued the video ahead a minute, fast-forwarding through the two men having a brief conversation, then Randy pointing toward the mall entrance. Tim went in, appearing a few moments later on the other side of the screen: the interior camera. Wandering to the food court, he ordered something from a fast-food shop. He appeared completely oblivious to everything except grabbing some takeout.

Dean focused on the other half of the screen.

While Tim conducted the errand Randy had sent him on, his good buddy watched the workers finish unloading. When they were done, he shoved a clipboard over to be signed, then waved at them as they disappeared inside. Once the rolling door was closed, he quietly stalked the rear parking lot, peeking into Dumpsters, easing closer to the back employees-only entrances of the stores closest to his rig.

She zoomed in until one sign was legible.

“That’s the store where the vic worked,” Dean snapped.

“I know.”

He reached for his phone, wanting Covey picked up now, but she put a hand on his arm. “One more second.”

Covey knocked on a door. A young guy opened it. He and Randy exchanged a few words, both looking around furtively. Cash exchanged hands. Then Covey beckoned the man over to the still-unlocked truck. Pulling a large box from it, he shoved it at the younger man, who dashed toward his store. A minute later, Tim walked out carrying a large fast-food bag. The two of them got into the truck and drove away.

The story the video told was perfectly clear. Randy Covey was stealing from his employer. Skimming off the top, selling electronics to some punk kid looking to pick up a stereo on the cheap. The kid had looked very familiar with the process; it hadn’t been the first time.

“You saw, right? Tim was clueless about any of this. At least, as of then. I’m wondering if Randy tried to drag him into it, and that’s what bothered him enough to come to my door the other night.”

“Could be. And it adds one more piece to the puzzle. Randy could have been doing his side business and staking out his future victims at the same time. Amber might even have bought something off him before she died.” It all made sense, especially with what he’d learned today. “Stokes and Mulrooney were able to get a look at the driving logs Covey has turned over to his employers,” he told her. “He was on overnight runs on many of the nights the murders occurred, including the last one.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Stacey admitted, “but everything you said the other night about the perpetrator, and what we’ve learned since, points to him as the Reaper. His background, his job, his history of abandonment, and his mommy issues. He delivers electronics, for heaven’s sake. How hard would it be for him to swipe the latest computer or video equipment for his own use?”

From the other side of the kitchen, he heard Mr. Rhodes sigh deeply. “I’ve known him since he was a boy. He’s not violent, sure isn’t a genius. I never imagined him doing something like this.”

Dean rubbed his jaw, feeling the rough stubble. It seemed like an eternity had passed since he’d shaved at his apartment this morning. Thank God this would be over soon.

Unable to take his eyes off the paused surveillance footage, Dean suddenly wondered about something. “He knew about the cameras,” he murmured.

“What?”

“He obviously knew there was a camera positioned to cover that loading dock area and the back door of the store. It was shot out the night Amber was taken.”

She followed. “So why would he conduct his side business in view of it?”

Good question. It made no sense.

Maybe Randy hadn’t thought anybody would pay attention to his poking around near the Dumpsters, especially if no crime had been reported. But anybody would know the video would be examined after the last murder.

It was the only reason he could think of for Randy’s initial carelessness. And he still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced. But it was at least possible. They’d know a lot more when they brought the man in for questioning.

“His house is only two miles away,” Stacey said.

Dean reached for his phone again. “I want backup.” He punched in Mulrooney’s number, gave him the information and Covey’s address, and told him to bring Stokes and meet them there in fifteen minutes.

Stacey, meanwhile, had made a call of her own. “Mitch and two other deputies who will keep their heads will be en route shortly.”

Good. If Randy Covey really was the Reaper, and he realized they were onto him, he could turn ruthlessly violent. With nothing left to lose, he’d have no reason not to.

A few minutes passed, and they both checked their weapons to make sure they were loaded. The tension in the Rhodes house was thick enough to swim in, but Stacey was about as calm and cool as he’d ever seen her. As if now that the end of the nightmare was in sight, she could stop worrying and just take care of business.

Finally, when it was time, they left the house and, by silent agreement, got into Stacey’s squad car. They reached the main road and began to pull out onto it when Stacey’s ancient, wheezing old radio came to life.