Chapter 5
When Alex made it home that night, she had to admit her nerves were frazzled around the edges. She’d been in meetings all afternoon. Her boss had pushed to know what progress she’d made. It was a little hard to choke out zero progress in front of a group of Coronado HP officers and Barry. But, when she had explained what they had so far, nobody had any answers as to how to move forward. Looking at the houses, looking at the people, looking at the relationships in each person’s history took time.
She spent another hour plus on the phone talking to each of the tenants, asking questions about relationships and how long they’d live there, where they’d lived before, and if they knew Macklin. Everybody had said they didn’t know who Macklin was, and, as she filled up a whiteboard full of charts, she realized just how little was in common among any of them. It made no sense. She stared at the board for a long time, until Lance walked over and said, “Time to call it quits, boss. Go home, and think about it.”
She shot him a shuttered look. “The trouble is, while we’re sitting here figuring it out, he’s already scoping out the next house.”
Lance entered her office. “That’s likely very true. But we don’t have any way we can catch him right now.”
“Did you set up extra patrol cars around that area for the night?”
He nodded. “We have indeed. It’s not just one block though. Silver Strand’s huge. And, if he spots the black-and-whites going by, he’ll widen his hunting ground.”
“I know. It’s a bitch.” She tossed down her pencil, snatched her jacket and purse. “Hopefully we’ll be lucky enough to sleep through the night. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He gave her a wave as she walked out the door. Only as she stood outside and looked at how low the sun was did she realize it was well past quitting time. The last thing she wanted to do was go out to eat, but she had very little food left at the house. It was a dilemma. Go grocery shopping and pick up something, or go out to eat. Or she could follow her usual pattern: go home and not bother eating much. But sandwiches were her catchall.
She needed to sleep tonight and should at least eat something to keep up her energy.
She pulled into the grocery store, did a quick trip around the aisles, picked up stuff for sandwiches and a salad. When she got home, she made herself a sub sandwich and a salad to go with it. Feeling smug about her food choices, she walked over to the table and sat down to eat.
Her mind still buzzed between the two separate cases. She hadn’t found any link to connect the four break-ins to Macklin. That Marsha had lived alone and was close to the chosen area was a concern as her case resembled the other break-ins but differed on the rest of the details.
But none of the other victims had been killed. That was a massive difference. And they didn’t even appear close enough in MO to be used as a cover-up. In her mind she couldn’t see they were connected. At least not yet. Maybe if they got more facts, there would be more answers. But, for the moment, it was a wait-and-see game. When she finished washing the dishes, she had a quick shower, changed into her civilian clothes, and stood outside to take several deep breaths of fresh air. She stared in the direction where the four break-ins had occurred.
They were a couple miles away from her. She hadn’t found any traffic cams that revealed anything of interest. But then this was a suburban area, residential. Cams were only on the main intersections. She was pretty sure the assailant was walking to his chosen targets. What she didn’t know was if any of the neighbors had a surveillance camera and if he had parked his vehicle a block or two away.
She’d hoped to leave one of the unmarked cars parked with a camera set up on the street to see if any traffic came during the night.
But at the meeting earlier today, it had been vetoed. She’d be guessing where the intruder would be walking. Seeing strangers in the cameras wouldn’t give her a clue as to whether they were guilty or not. She needed to continue to delve in, drill deeper into the intruder’s life to see if this was a random choice or whether each of these people were targeted.
As she sat here, she picked up her phone and looked at the picture she’d taken. Each of the houses looked so similar. What made one appear a better bet than the other? How would this intruder have any idea who lived there or who didn’t? And, if he was keeping a close eye on them, where could he be that he wasn’t observed?
He could be someone out walking a dog, looking innocent, but at the same time she couldn’t interview everybody out with a dog. And yet, it wasn’t a bad way to find out if anybody had seen anything suspicious.
The police had spoken to several neighbors, and, so far, nobody had said anything helpful. It always amazed Alex how little people noticed anything in their neighborhood. She set aside her cell phone with the images for a moment to clear her head.
She reached for the bottle of wine she brought with her and the empty glass. As she poured the liquid, she winced at the bright red color. There’d been a lot of blood in Marsha’s place. It would take Alex a long time to forget those images. Outside of the death of the woman, there didn’t appear to be anything stolen. The TV was still there; her purse was still there. If something small and personal had been taken, it was hard to know what. Marsha didn’t have any other friends who stepped forward to say they knew what was going on in her life.
The police had gone through Marsha’s address book, but it had been damn empty except for one name. The name with multiple scratches and corrections was Macklin’s. Marsha had written down every house he’d lived in since they’d met.
As she sipped her wine, Alex wondered what it would be like to be the object of such a fixated person. It’d be damn scary—that sense of being watched, knowing something was wrong and somebody really ill was targeting you. He had gone the legal route and hadn’t had much luck.
But then it wouldn’t matter if the victim was male or female, stalkers were hard to stop in the best of times. Anybody who was dedicated enough could find a way to get to somebody. Alex pondered that concept. Had Marsha herself been a victim? Had somebody stalked her?
Alex quickly checked to see if Marsha had filed any restraining orders herself, but couldn’t find any. Neither could she find any other restraining orders filed against her, except for Mackin’s. She’d talked to Marsha’s boss, but the conversation had been short and simple. Marsha worked as a clerk for a shredding company. She showed up on time and left on time. Other than that she kept to herself, and got along with her coworkers but wasn’t unduly friendly.
The apartment block where Marsha lived was within walking distance of the Silver Strand Housing complex, and Alex had canvassed most of Marsha’s neighbors, but nobody had seen or heard anything. Although Alex still had several more to contact. Nobody wanted to get involved until it was their own life involved. One of the women she’d talked to hadn’t even known Marsha lived there.
When Alex had knocked, a woman opened the door nervously. Alex quickly reassured her that she was a police detective, and the Coronado PD was investigating the woman’s neighbor’s death. The woman still hadn’t wanted to talk. She’d closed the door and snapped the locks closed. Fear did that. Murder hit a little too close to home.
Her phone rang beside her. She picked it up, looked at the display, and winced. “Hello, Mom,” she said, her voice deliberately neutral. Give her mother an inch of emotion either way, and she pounced, looking for every dirty detail.
“How are you, Alex?”
“I’m fine.”
“Stop saying you’re fine. You’re not fine. You’ve taken on too much. You should come home to the family. I’m sure you could get a nice job here.”
“A nice job? Why? I wouldn’t get to deal with thieves and murderers that way,” she said, her tone a hint above mocking. If her mother thought something would bug her, she’d be all over it.
“You need a safe job. A safe place to live. Obviously the job you’re doing isn’t safe.”
Alex gave a bark of laughter. “It should be safer here than anywhere. I’m surrounded by servicemen and women who go out and bleed for our country on a regular basis. We’re all here to protect each other.”
“And yet there you are, considering things like murders and break-ins,” her mother scolded. “How good are the people there, really? They are just like everyone else.”
“I know that,” Alex said quietly. Unfortunately she knew it all too well. Every day she walked into work, she was faced with the fact some of these honorable men and women were much less honorable human beings.
“No way I’m walking away and letting the victims not get the full benefit of my investigative abilities. And I say, I’m fine, because, if I say anything else, you don’t give me an option. You don’t stop digging until you get all the details.”
“Of course I do. You’re my daughter.”
“Being your daughter doesn’t mean you have the right to know all the details of my life,” Alex said with exasperation. “We’ve had this conversation before, many times.”
Her mother chuckled. “I figure, if I work at you a bit at a time, like water on a stone, eventually you’ll give up and let me into your life a little more.”
Like that’s ever going to happen. But she didn’t let her mother know that. “Any boyfriends yet?” she asked her mother. “That always takes you out of my personal life.”
“You have a personal life, do you?” her mother slid in smoothly.
“None I’m talking about, Mom. What about your personal life?”
“Well, I did go out for dinner last night with a lovely young man.”
Alex winced. Her mother had this penchant for men a good ten to twenty years younger than she was. The last one had only been a few years older than Alex. That had been awkward. “Nice. Where did you go?”
“He took me to a lovely fish restaurant downtown. We had seafood on some special pasta dish. It was really quite lovely.”
“And did you go home alone?” Alex asked in a humorous voice.
“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”
“I don’t need the details, thanks.”
“Chicken!” her mother said. “I wish there were questions to ask,” she said in exasperation. “You can’t stay alone forever, Alex.”
“I can if I want to.”
“It’s not healthy. I get that Brad hurt you, but he wasn’t a nice man. The two of you weren’t meant to be together, and he proved it by sleeping with somebody else.”
“You know loyalty and honor are qualities that are important to me. Why is it so hard to imagine I don’t want to have a boyfriend who sleeps around?”
“The thing is, if he’s still sleeping around, he’s just a boy. Men grow up. They make a decision, and they stick with it.”
Alex stared moodily out at the night slowly darkening around her. She took a sip of the red wine and thought about her mother’s words. “I don’t want a boyfriend anymore,” she said. “But I might be interested in a man friend.”
Her mother chuckled. “Whereas I am looking for boyfriends. I really don’t want any kind of permanent relationship. And, if he sleeps around, that’s fine by me. Because then I can sleep around too.”
Alex didn’t want to know so much about her mother’s love life and tried to change the subject. “How’s work going?”
“The same as always. You know how much I hate being in the office. But it’s the busy season for us.”
Her mother was a buyer for one of the large retail stores. But nothing as glamorous as clothing. It was paper supplies. And she spent a lot of her days contacting suppliers, looking for deals.
“But you know you love it. You get to wheel and deal and save the company lots of money.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it for the rest of my life.”
Alex frowned. She’d heard her mother express distaste for her life before but not lately. “What would you like to do instead?”
“Retire and travel,” her mother said promptly.
“So, do it.”
“You know I can’t. I can’t afford to yet.”
The phone call with her mother ended abruptly when her phone beeped, signaling another call coming in. “Mom, I’ve got to go.” She quickly switched over to the other call and realized it was dispatch. “What’s up?”
“There’s been a second break-in at the first house, the one that went down four days ago. Two units are on their way.”
“What’s the address again?”
Dispatch rattled it off, confirming it indeed was the first house.
“I’m on my way.”
Relieved to have been called, hoping that her problems were over from that department, she headed out. In the back of her mind she stewed on why that house? She highly doubted it was the same person who had already been there once. There was no need to go back again. But, if it was the same perp, it certainly made her wonder if he was looking for something specific. Something they hadn’t considered yet.
What if he had some connection to these women, and/or their partners, and was looking for something specific? It was a troubling thought, considering four houses were already involved. But what if one of them had something he wanted? What if he was going through each house to make sure it wasn’t there? And, if he hadn’t found it on the first run-through, would he go back and check the houses again?
She grabbed her sweater, purse, and keys, and headed out the door. Dusk was just setting in. The light was that half-light. It was great for skulking through the shadows. But less so for seeing clearly. It took her ten minutes to get to the address. Two vehicles were already on the scene. She hopped out. “Who called it in?” she asked.
“The neighbors.” Lance pointed to the house on the right. “These guys did.”
“Nobody here?”
“No, the house was empty when we got here.”
“I’ll talk to the neighbors.”
“Are you going into the house as well?”
She called over her shoulders, “Absolutely. I’ll go through it with a fine-tooth comb now.”
The neighbors stood on their front porch. Alex introduced herself, shook their hands, and asked, “Can you tell me exactly what you saw?”
She put her phone on Record, let them know what she did, and said, “Now please tell me.”
The man said, “I saw what appeared to be a young male, tall, slim, dressed all in black, approach the house from our side. I was doing dishes in the kitchen when I looked out and saw him come up against the side here. He turned to the side of the house, went around to the back, and I thought I saw him sit on the deck for a little bit. I went outside myself, banging lots of doors, hoping he would disappear. And he did. But he went inside the house.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “How long was he inside the house?”
“I called as soon as he went in because I knew he didn’t live there. That’s Kathleen’s house. And I know she hasn’t been around since the break-in. She’s been living with her mother in San Diego.”
Alex nodded. She knew that too. “How did he act?”
“Assured and yet furtive. As in, he kept looking around, but he walked with a calm, straightforward walk,” his wife added.
Alex turned to look at her. “You saw him as well?”
The wife nodded. “Yes, I did. He was dressed in all black. It was kind of creepy.”
“Did he have a hood over his face?”
Both shook their heads.
Her interest piqued. She leaned forward slightly. “Did you get a look at his face?”
Both shook their heads again.
“Did you get a look at the color of his skin?”
This time they nodded. “He was white, but his complexion wasn’t pure white. He might have been a mixed race. He might have just had a heavy San Diego tan,” the husband said. “It was really hard to tell in this light.”
Having made a comment about visibility in that light, she understood what he meant. “So he walked inside the house, by way of the back door, but first he sat on the deck for a moment, looked around, and then went inside?”
They both nodded.
“Did you see him leave?”
The husband said, “I went out front to see if he left that way while my wife stared out back.”
“And did either of you see him?”
Both shook their heads.
She studied them carefully. “Any idea how he left?”
Again they both shook their heads. “Honestly I thought he was still inside the house. I figured when the cops came, you’d catch him. But you’re saying he’s not in there?”
“Apparently the officers have already done a sweep of the house, and he’s not there. Correct.” She turned and looked at the house in question. “I’m about to go over, but I wanted to hear what you had to say first.” She thanked them and went down the porch steps.
She stopped at the sidewalk and looked in the direction the intruder had approached from. He’d just been walking down the sidewalk and then deliberately stepped up to this house and around the back. He might have assumed the house was empty or took a chance on the house being empty, so he could have just come in looking for anything he could pick up quickly. Burglars were opportunists. As soon as they knew a house was empty, they cased it out. And that could have been what this was. Being dressed in black was, in a way, just a smart outfit to be wearing if you were to break in to a house. The fact that the news advertised they were looking for a man dressed in black added to the perception this could be a copycat.
She walked back to the house in question. “Nobody saw the man leave?”
Lance shook his head. “Not since we arrived. I did speak to the neighbors and understood, as far as they were concerned, he was still in there. But we did a sweep, and nobody’s there.”
“I’ll go look myself.” She walked up the sidewalk to the porch and stepped through the front door. One of the officers stood off to the side.
He nodded respectfully.
She asked in a low tone, “Have you been all through the house?”
“With the initial sweep, yes. But I haven’t moved from here since.”
She nodded and did a very careful walk-through of the main floor and then headed to the stairs. She passed a front closet, but both doors were open. She stepped inside, took a quick look, moving all the jackets aside, searching for any kind of a trapdoor, attic access, or anything else. But came up empty. She headed to the stairs and swiftly moved up.
At the second floor she stopped and listened. She couldn’t hear anything. She moved into the spare bedroom, checked under the bed, inside the closet, checking for a trapdoor again, and then stepped out. As she walked past the hall closet, she stopped and looked at it. She pulled her weapon, opened the door, but found it empty. Yet oddly enough the shelving had collapsed or been placed on the floor instead of in their slots. As if somebody made space to stand. Using her cell phone, she shone the flashlight at the top of the closet to look. But again found no trapdoor or attic access.
She’d lived in enough places across the country to know some locations had no attics, and some had no basements. She closed the door to the hall closet, did a search in the main bathroom, still finding nothing. She headed toward the last bedroom.
The master bedroom door was open. She assumed her men had already searched here. But she followed suit and checked the area as well. The master bedroom had double windows with a view over the front street. She opened the window and stuck her head out.
There was no place for an intruder to have gone but straight down. She walked to the rear of the master bedroom and realized this window wasn’t latched. She slid it open to see a small roof over the top of the back porch. It would have been easy for him to have climbed out, stepped onto the rear porch roof, gone to the far side of the house, jumped down, and carried on without the next-door-neighbor’s wife seeing him.
Satisfied that she understood how he left the house, she turned and walked back downstairs and spoke to Lance. “He probably left within minutes of the police sirens.”
“I never thought to look at the small roof,” he said. “Which direction do you think he would have gone?”
“The only way he would have left,” she said, “is either through the backyard of either neighbor or around the front of the neighbors in such a way that the husband out in front didn’t see him. So please confirm with him that he stayed out in front on the porch and didn’t leave at all, and then I think we can safely assume the intruder headed in the opposite direction than he arrived.”
“Do you want us to send out a search?”
“He’ll be long gone, but we have to canvass the houses in this direction—see if anybody might have seen him leave, and then we need to check the houses on both sides of the street to see if anybody saw him arrive. What we’re looking for, of course, is where he has been and where he’s going.” She turned, looked back inside, and said, “I’ll see if there’s a specific reason why the same guy might have come back. Otherwise, I think we’re looking at somebody taking advantage of an empty house for easy pickings.”
Lance agreed. “That’s what I was thinking too. Even in this type of housing, with so many families, not everyone knows who is around all the time.”
Back in the house, she went through each room again, looking to see if something specific would have brought the same intruder back. Yet that theory felt wrong. But, as she hadn’t explored the concept that somebody had to be linked to the four people whose houses had been broken into, she couldn’t let it go yet. The living room was bare of finishing touches. No shelving, no pictures on the walls. There was a TV stand that held electronics, but the TV itself was older. She took a quick glance behind it, behind the cabinet, and then moved into the kitchen.
Kitchens were always a pain. So many cupboards and items in the way. She didn’t even know what she was looking for. She suspected USB keys or something valuable, like jewelry. But she didn’t dare keep her mind closed to the fact a lot of other items were valuable. Keeping to a systematic approach, she went through each of the kitchen cupboards and drawers.
At one point, she turned around to find Lance in the doorway. She shrugged. “I can’t let go of the idea he might have come back for a specific reason.”
She walked over to the broom closet, carefully went through the contents, shifting aside brooms and mops and cleansers on the shelves, rags and packages of dish towels sitting on the side. Again nothing looked suspicious to her.
With the downstairs fully looked over, she went upstairs, checking the stairs as she went. They were wooden, but she didn’t feel any were hollow along the way. She rapped on the walls as she carried on up the stairs.
Lance called out from the bottom, “Are you really serious?”
“Can’t mark it off my list until I’ve checked it out.”
She knew they all studied her methods and thought she went way too far all the time. But when something niggled at the back of her head, she wouldn’t let it go. She’d been wrong before, but she’d rather waste the time looking and not finding anything than not to look and miss something important. And, being new on her job, she felt like she couldn’t afford to mess up. As if she had to prove herself. Not to herself but to everyone watching her performance.
She went through the second bedroom first. Not only was it smaller and easier, but it was the avenue he chose as his escape. The dresser in there was empty, and, when she moved it out to look underneath and behind it, she found nothing as well. She did the same treatment to the night table, also empty. The closet was empty, so it really was just a spare bedroom—nobody stayed in here. It was made up, ready in case she did have company though. Knowing she’d hate to have it done to her own bed, but needing to know for sure, Alex quickly stripped the bed, checked between the mattresses and under the frame. Nothing. She stacked up all the bedding on top and walked out.
At the hall closet she stopped and stared again. “Why would you take all the shelving off your closet walls and stack the shelves on the floor like this?” she asked Lance.
He stepped up behind her. “No idea.”
But she also got the feeling he didn’t give a damn either. She took a photo of it and closed the door.
Stepping into the bathroom, she found a few toiletries, shampoos along the bathtub, but nothing major, nothing hidden, nothing secret. She did lift the toilet tank lid to make sure. Nothing to find there.
The master bedroom was a different story. It was stuffed. She carefully made her way through the room. She turned to find Lance just standing in the doorway again. “Either help or go do something useful,” she said in exasperation.
He raised both hands, palms up. “What is it you want me to do? I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”
“Anything suspicious, anything that somebody would want to hurt somebody over. Look for a safe. Look for envelopes full of dirty photos. Look for blackmail material. Look for signs of a secret lover. I don’t know,” she cried out. “But, if this was the same guy, he had a reason to return here, and it had to be a hell of a reason to come back to a place he knows the police are now watching.”
“But we aren’t watching it specifically anymore,” Lance argued. “It was broken into. The owner left. Finished. Amen.”
“So you think it was just another guy casing the joint?”
“What else could it be? It makes no sense for the burglar to come back.”
“Unless he came looking for something specific … How many times have we seen the perpetrator return to the scene of the crime?”
“Fine,” Lance muttered. He walked over to the bed. “Do you want me to strip it?”
“Yes, I want you to strip it.”
She finished with the closet and headed to the dresser. She took out one drawer, placed it on the floor, carefully went through everything inside it, went to the next drawer, and the next drawer. When she was done, she found nothing there either. She picked up the first drawer and carefully tried to fit it back in again, but it wouldn’t go. She reached underneath and froze. Putting it on the floor again, she carefully upended it to find an envelope taped to the bottom. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
Lance was at her side immediately. “What do you think that is?”
“No idea but I suggest we find out.”
She ripped the envelope off the drawer bottom, opened it, and took out the contents. Inside were photographs. Lots and lots of photographs. The problem was, they were all of the same person. “These are all Marsha,” Alex whispered.
“Marsha?”
“The woman who was murdered.” She laid them out on the bed. “The stalker was being stalked.”
*
Macklin couldn’t settle down. He rattled around in his small place, hating the feel of not knowing what to do. He understood the person who had lived in one of the targeted houses was also one of the guys who had graduated from BUD/S training with him. He didn’t know if that was important, but at least it was a connection.
He just didn’t know how and why it mattered. He tossed ideas back and forth as to whether he should contact Alex and let her know. He figured, if it was nothing, she’d knock it off her list damn fast. But she’d been emphatic about him making a list and giving it to her.
He hated to write anything further down and pondered the concept of giving her a quick call. Finally he snatched his phone, not wanting to look too closely at why he wanted to contact her personally. He could have just as easily sent her an email. But he had her card, and he dialed her number. When she answered, he said, “It’s me.”
“Hi, me,” she said in a dry tone. “My display did say it was you. Macklin, what’s up?”
“One of my buddies found out one of the houses in the four break-ins … kind of …” He stumbled to a stop, organizing his thoughts. “One of the guys who graduated from BUD/S with me used to live in the first house up until five weeks ago.”
“So he finished the BUD/S training?” she asked in confusion.
“Yes. It’s a connection, but I don’t know how tenuous. I know it sounds stupid, but you seemed to want to know everything, so that’s the only thing my team came up with.”
“Interesting,” she said quietly. “Do you happen to know a Kathleen Matron?”
“Not off the top of my head. Why?”
“Hers was the first property broken in to, where your guy once lived,” Alex said. “We had a second incident at the same house tonight.”
“Is she hurt?” Macklin asked in a sharp tone. He wondered when this nightmare would end.
“No, she wasn’t there. The property was empty.”
“So chances are, it was just a bunch of kids then?”
“I don’t think so. The description matches the first intruder, without the hood over his face.”
“The only reason not to do that is because he doesn’t expect anyone to see him or to recognize him.”
“Thanks. I had worked that out for myself,” she said drily.
“Look. I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job. I just called to let you know there is a connection, however slight, between me and those break-ins.”
“Noted. I’ll pull the records for every one of these houses.”
“Okay.” He was about to hang up when she spoke again.
“Wait. Any idea if Marsha might have known this Kathleen Matron?”
“No idea. I tried to stay away from Marsha as much as I could.”
“So, you don’t know any of her friends?”
“No, I told you that I didn’t.” Macklin frowned. “Why? Did you find a connection between the two of them?”
“We found pictures of Marsha in that house.”
Macklin walked to his big easy chair and sat down heavily. “This was the first house of the four break-ins?”
“Yes.”
“So that’s also the same house Bill Toronto used to live in.”
“Yes.”
“Damn, how does all this fit together?”
“No idea.” she said, her voice low, determined. “But, if there’s one thing you can be sure of, I will find out.” And she hung up.
Macklin quickly sent out a text to his buddies, giving them an update on the photos Alex had found. He’d barely sent out the last notice when his phone went off.
It was Corey. “What the hell is going on, Macklin?”
“I have no idea. But the only reason for the intruder to go back into the first house was if he’s looking for something.”
“And the detective found pictures of Marsha in that same house?”
“Apparently. Alex didn’t say where they were hidden, just that she found photographs.”
“Any chance the intruder wasn’t there to take anything, but he planted something?”
“I hadn’t considered that.” Moodily Macklin stood in the middle of his living room. “Nothing makes sense.”
“But it will. It will. Unfortunately it’ll probably be too late to be of any value to anybody.”
“Isn’t that the way of things?” Macklin shook his head. “I’m going nuts here. I want to get out, but I got no place to go.”
“You want to go out for coffee? Go for a run at the beach?”
“You’re not doing anything?” Macklin asked.
“No, I’m not. I was watching TV, but it’s not holding my interest. I keep pondering what the hell is going on in your world.”
“Yeah, me too.” He made a sudden decision and said, “You know what I want to do? I want to go walk the neighborhood. Are you up for it?”
“Sure. What are we looking for?”
“I won’t have a clue until I see it,” Macklin said.
“Good enough. Pick a place to meet, and we’ll walk the area together.”
They set up a place within two blocks of the first house hit in the Silver Strand complex.
Within ten minutes Mac pulled off the side of the road, parking behind a small pickup, noting its license plate number and general description to share with Alex later. Mac couldn’t tell if Corey had arrived or not. The light made it hard to see at this time of night. He shut off the engine, hopped out, and stood on the sidewalk, looking around.
“Macklin?” Corey was on the opposite side of the road, waving at him.
Mac crossed the street, noting it was quiet, calm, with no sign of traffic anywhere. Together the two men slowly walked the outside perimeter of the crime area, memorizing the blocks, the layout of the properties, and sorting through the viability of the break-ins.
“They don’t even have to be professional burglars. The way the windows are lined up creates blind spots on the sides for anyone to walk in and out unseen. It was set up that way for privacy, so one house doesn’t look into the windows of the second house.”
“Exactly,” Macklin said. He motioned at the houses, one after the other. “Once you know the layout of one, chances are you know the layout of at least half of them here.” Macklin laughed. “Makes it much easier on intruders too.”
Corey snorted. “Absolutely. The thing is, it’s still brazen. And either he knew if anybody was home or he didn’t give a shit. The fact is, he’s met tenants almost every time. So he obviously isn’t bothered by witnesses.”
Macklin nodded again. “We’re two unknown men, walking down the street together at dusk. Yet we’re not drawing any attention, and no one is peeking at us from behind curtains. Essentially it’s just a small-town road. Nobody cares.”
“I doubt any traffic here would bring attention either. A loud party might raise some eyebrows, but nobody’s going to be too bothered.”
“Do you think that’s the standard across America? Nobody wants to get involved? Nobody wants to see anything because then they may have to make a judgment call or do something about it? Or they’re just not interested in their neighbors anymore?”
“Probably a little bit of all of it,” Corey said quietly. “Think about it. If you see an intruder, you’ll have to phone it in. If you call it in, they want your name, your number, your address. They pretty much want to know everything about you. Nobody wants to give that much information anymore. If there’s an anonymous tip line, that’s a different story.”
Macklin pointed out a house as they passed. “That was where the woman was beaten and knocked out.”
“That was the fourth on the list?”
“Yes. The second house that was hit is up in the next block.”
They approached that with the same attitude as all the rest, looking for angles, looking for options. If they were an intruder, how would they approach the problem? And, if they were on a security detail, how would they look for threats?
When they walked past, Corey shook his head. “It’s the same layout, the same look. Once he’s made it into the kitchen of one of them …” He let his voice trail off.
Macklin didn’t need to say anything. It had all been said before. But it was a good reminder this really wasn’t a hardship for anybody who knew what they were doing.
After they passed the second targeted house, they walked to the end of the block, took a right, and headed toward the third house. This layout looked to be slightly different. As in, the door was slightly off-center, the living room in the front, still the kitchen in the back.
Rather than stopping and staring at the house in question, they made their observations as they went past. “No alleyway in this part of the world either, is there?”
“Not here. Land values and the increasing population don’t give room for something like that,” Macklin said. “In a way that’s nice because it stops the intruders from having that kind of ingress and egress. The thing is, if the guy had approached like we are, it’s a simple thing to slip in between two houses and come around the back.”
“Exactly. No skill required.”
Macklin realized how futile this was. He wasn’t sure what he thought this trip would produce, if anything. All it showed him was how easy these break-ins were for anybody to do.
They continued walking, moving two streets over. As they got to where the first house was, he could see several police vehicles still parked at the curb.
Corey looked at him. “You sure you want to head that way? Alex’s likely to be there.”
Macklin shrugged. He hated that, inside, he kind of hoped she was. In any other circumstance, he might have asked her out, but, given he was a suspect in a murder case, it wasn’t a good idea. But that twinge inside told him that she was around.
Corey gave him a sideways look. “This is the most interest I’ve seen you show in anybody in a long time.”
Keeping his face straight, Mac said in a laughing voice, “Hey, I’m not showing any interest in her. I just want to ensure my neck is not on the chopping block.”
Corey chuckled. “Tell yourself whatever you need to, buddy. But, no doubt, some sparks are flying here.”
“Yeah. It’s the chink of the chains as they close the shackles around my legs,” he said. “I’d do a lot not to go down for a murder I didn’t commit.”
“No worries there. We will make sure that doesn’t happen.”
If nothing else, Macklin had good friends; he had a support system. He was also innocent, and he’d like to believe that meant something, but he’d heard enough about cases of innocent men being charged and convicted. “Thanks. Appreciate that,” he said with a head nod toward Corey. “Plus I can give her the details on that truck I’m parked behind. It may be nothing, but …”
“By the way, Tesla is checking out Marsha’s history and looking to see what she can find.”
Macklin grinned. “I keep forgetting about her skills.”
“Don’t. She’s pretty amazing.”
Macklin nodded. “She’s a good person to have on our side.”
“Everyone is. Marsha was a fruitcake right from the beginning, and I know you don’t like it when we refer to her as such, but the fact remains that she was off-balance. Honestly, I know it’s not nice, but I’m glad it’s her that’s dead and in the morgue, not you.”
Macklin had to agree.
Just as he walked past the house, he heard a voice call out, “Macklin?”
Beside him, he could feel Corey’s shoulders shake in mirth. Mac turned to look at Alex striding toward him, a serious look on her face, her gaze narrowed. He smiled. “Hi, Alex.”
“What are you doing here?”
The suspicion in her tone got his back up. “Going for a walk,” he said pointedly. “Is there a law against that?”
“No, but you don’t live here. We all know that people like to come back to the scene of their crimes.”
He let his breath out quietly, anger stirring inside. “I’m pretty sure not one description of the intruder would match my physical form.”
She took a long look at his face, not even bothering to check out the rest of the form he’d referred to. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
She nodded. “True enough, but that doesn’t mean you’re in the clear with regard to Marsha.”
Corey stepped forward, his body now vibrating.
Macklin grabbed Corey’s arm to hold him back. “But, since I had nothing to do with her murder, that doesn’t apply to me.”
At that moment Corey stepped closer to Mac.
Alex switched her focus to Corey. As he glared at her, her jaw locked down while she studied him. “You can be as pissed off as you want to be, Corey, because I’m not here for you, and I’m not here for Macklin. I’m here for the woman who had her throat cut. So deal with it.”
She turned and stormed off. Several feet away, she spun around and said, “It’s probably a good idea if you gentlemen go home.”
“What? No neighborhood watch?” Corey said in a mocking tone.
Her gaze locked on his as she said, “No, not tonight.”