Page 16 of View from Above
“These marks.” Payton released his hold, taking a step back. “They look like injection marks from a needle. Three of them.”
“What are you talking about?” Mallory pressed her hand to the back of her neck and pushed a finger into her hairline. A scab flaked against her finger. Then another. She shook her head as though the small motion could rewind time. “No. That’s not… That’s not possible.”
“Mallory,”—Payton spun her to face him—“someone has been drugging you, too.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
She was finally asleep.
Payton closed the guest bedroom door behind him and slipped into his office in the next room over. Their theory Angie Green had been targeted by a killer because she’d found out about the affair between Roland Kotite and her mother didn’t hold up. Mallory had only just learned of the relationship, but the injection marks on the back of her neck said she’d been drugged at least three times prior to the discovery.
His stomach churned at the idea of someone breaking into her home, into her office, getting close enough to touch and dosing her with something without her knowledge, but the rest of him raged. In less than a day, Mallory had triggered protective instincts he’d reserved for family and friends. He didn’t know her. Not really, but the similarities between their pasts, the times they’d felt separate from the world and the people around them, had stitched an invisible connection he couldn’t deny now.
And he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe.
Payton took a seat behind his forest green desk. The only piece of furniture he’d hauled with him through college and into the life he’d built. The corners weren’t as sharp anymore, and there was still a stain where his father had spilled hot coffee on the surface, but it’d served its purpose these past twenty years. Stood as a reminder of what he’d lost and what he’d hoped to gain. His attention slid to the hallway as he considered what else he’d hoped to gain.
Bringing Mallory here had been a rash decision. He didn’t do rash, but the moment he’d identified Angie Green on top of that car, logic had gone out the window. He could’ve pawned her off onto a protection detail, sent her home with the promise to have a patrol car keep an eye on her, or recruited Wells to give her a ride. Instead, he’d brought her home. All because the thought of failing her—as he’d failed Angie Green—had been too much.
And now she was being targeted by a killer.
He dug his phone from his coat and scrolled to the contact he needed. Why drug the victims? If the killer planned to execute them in the end, why bother drugging them up to the moment they fell to their deaths? To coach them over the edge and convince investigators of suicide? He tapped the screen to dial, and the line connected almost instantly. “You’re up late.”
“I haven’t left the precinct yet. I should be used to it considering how many days we worked cases till the early morning hours.” Wells’s yawn triggered his own. “I’ve gone soft. Justice might never rest, but I need to.”
“Is that why you defected to the state troopers? To get more sleep?” He’d meant it as a joke, but a hard blow of regret knocked the air from his chest. Payton picked at a chip in the paint on his desk, all too aware of the mistake he’d made. He knew exactly why his partner had put in her application to the state troopers, and he was a son of a bitch for bringing it up now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.” Wells cleared her throat. “I imagine you’re calling for an update on the scene. The medical examiner’s office has claimed Angie Green’s remains. No timeframe on when Dr. Moss will be able to perform the autopsy. CSU is still sweeping the roof, but from what they’ve told me so far, they’re not hopeful. It’s nothing but cement up there.”
“Damn it,” he said. “What about the officers assigned to escort her to and from interrogation?”
“I’ve interviewed every officer who had contact with the victim up until her time of death. No one recalls anything out of the ordinary, but I checked the visitor logs downstairs to make sure I had all my bases covered.” The familiar sound of hinges protesting reached through the line. Wells had most likely commandeered his desk considering she didn’t have one of her own. “Turns out Mrs. Green had called an attorney.”
That wasn’t out of the ordinary. “Which is within her rights. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is it looks like she called two of them,” she said.
His instincts prickled. “What do you mean?”
“According to the visitor logs, a female attorney signed in ten minutes before Angie Green took a dive off the roof with the name ‘Kotite Litigation,’ and the other showed up asking for her after she’d already died. He’s still here, waiting for me in the interview room. Card says he’s the real deal.” Tapping registered in the background as Wells logged into the computer at his desk.
A female attorney. Dread pooled at the base of his spine as notes, crime scene photos, and reports of past cases demanded attention. Three serial cases. All female killers. Was this the case the Violent Crimes Unit task force had been waiting for? Hell, he hoped not. “Kotite Litigation doesn’t handle defense cases.”
“That’s what I thought. So I swept the cameras after I found the discrepancy. The woman who signed in under that firm avoided showing her face to the cameras,” Wells said. “She rides the elevator from the lobby straight to holding, meets Angie Green in one of the offices on that floor, then nothing.”
That wasn’t right. “What do you mean nothing?”
“I mean nothing. The footage has been looped. It’s the same five-minute meeting repeating over and over. The uni assigned to stand guard in holding said he’d received a call from your captain. According to him, she wanted him reassigned to the front desk. By the time he’d been told otherwise, it was too late. The guy’s a mess.”
“Shit.” Surveillance tampering, avoiding the cameras, posing as the captain. This wasn’t the work of an amateur. “Whoever lured Angie Green onto that roof knew exactly how to get in and out of the precinct without being noticed. How the hell is that possible?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going through all the surveillance from the past month. That’s when you think Roland Kotite was pushed from his firm’s building, right?” The tapping stopped, the hinges were quiet, but the controlled chaos of the precinct bled through the line. “We might get lucky, catch her on another day of footage if she’s cased the place, but it’s going to take time.”
“Send me a still of the best shot you have of her, and I’ll run it by Mallory,” he said. “See if she recognizes anyone.”
“On a first name basis with your stalker already?” Wells asked. “You were ready to arrest her for trespassing on that rooftop this morning. What changed?”
“She’s not a stalker.” He wasn’t sure why he was defending Mallory to his former partner of all people. It wasn’t like he expected them to ever cross paths after this investigation concluded, but Mallory had been through enough. She didn’t need the State Patrol turning against her, too. “She’s… determined.”