Page 33 of View from Above
But would they be happy?
“This case, the connection between this killer and the three prior serial cases I’ve been studying…” He squeezed his grip around the steering wheel as emotion charged up his throat. “I almost lost you up there on that roof. I can’t go through that again.”
“Careful, Detective. It’s starting to sound like you might care about me.” One corner of her mouth notched higher.
“Just watch your back.” Sharp pains lightninged down his sides as he forced himself to breathe evenly. “Whoever our mystery killer is—she’s connected to something bigger than this one case. Bigger than us.”
He wasn’t sure what she saw in his eyes, in his face, but Mallory reached out, framing her hand against his jaw. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
They rode the elevator together, Payton’s arm pressed against hers, to the homicide floor. But once the doors parted, they were nothing more than acquaintances. He caught sight of Special Agent January Reese speaking to Trooper Wells at the end of the sticky brown corridor. Hell. This had officially become a serial investigation. Perfectly waved platinum blonde hair bounced along the task force lead’s shoulders as she approached. Her pressed pantsuit and closed-toed heels suggested authority and strength whereas the spit up on the collar told him Reese and her partner were still adjusting to parenthood. And struggling. “Detective Nichols.” Reese extended a manicured hand. “Three victims thrown off buildings in the past month, and I don’t even get a call from you? I thought we were friends.”
“It was on my to-do list. Mallory, this is January Reese. She runs the Bureau task force out of Violent Crimes.” The blending of his two lives wasn’t lost on him. One consulting for the VCU, the other hard earned by canvasses, death scenes, interviews, and thousands of reports. While they’d each required him to investigate death and violence inflicted on an array of victims, he’d come to claim the Kotite case as his and Mallory’s. Not Seattle PD’s. Not the Bureau’s. Theirs. “She was responsible for the close of the last serial case I worked.”
“Nice to meet you.” Mallory shook. “From what I heard on the news, this city owes you.”
Reese nodded. “I had a little help. Kotite, right? You’re the first victim’s daughter. I didn’t realize you’d been asked to consult on the investigation.”
“I don’t know if consult is the right word. More like I forced my way into the investigation to find the truth about what happened to my father,” Mallory said. “I didn’t give Detective Nichols much of a choice in the matter.”
“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s working. As much as I hate to say it given three people have lost their lives, you’re obviously hitting all the right buttons. Your killer is escalating to stay ahead of the game. They’re getting desperate to finish what they started, and that will give us the advantage we need to end this once and for all.” Reese slid her hands into her slacks, turning that bright gaze back to Payton.
The advantage we need. Not him and Mallory. “I take it you’re here to claim jurisdiction over my case. Female suspect, three victims, all killed with the same MO.”
“Your report of the incident on that rooftop is pretty clear, Detective.” Reese’s attention shifted to Mallory and back.
“She knows about the collective we’ve been hunting,” Payton said.
“I figured as much considering the fact you don’t have that look of permanent rage on your face anymore.” Reese’s smile flashed wide. “But as that’s classified information and making it public may start a city-wide panic, I’m sure you can understand why we need your utmost discretion, Dr. Kotite. You believe in doctor-patient confidentiality. We believe in the threat of prison time and public safety.”
Mallory motioned to the task force director but turned toward him. “That’s how you ask someone to keep a secret. Not hand them a wad of cash like they’re a prostitute.”
He’d never live that down. “Now that we’re all on the same page, I believe whoever is throwing victims off rooftops is part of the collective we’re investigating. I don’t have anything solid linking her to our prior cases, but she moves the same way as the others. The lack of forensic evidence is telling in and of itself, and the motive feels the same as the others. This isn’t about sexual pleasure or killing for the thrill. She’s on a mission. Our killer is as intelligent, if not more so, than her predecessors, and she’s desperate for control. Power.”
“The pattern is there, same as the others. We can’t afford to be a step behind anymore. This might be the opportunity we need to finally get a clear picture of what we’re up against.” Reese angled toward Mallory. “Dr. Kotite, you were on the roof with the killer before you went over the edge. According to your physician at Harborview, you don’t remember any of it?”
“You talked to my physician?” Mallory asked. “I was… I was drugged. Midazolam. It’s a sedative. One of the side effects is amnesia. We think the killer doses her victims several times leading up to their deaths, but we’re not sure why.”
“With your permission, I’d like for you to sit down with my partner.” Reese tugged her phone from her pocket and swiped her thumb up the screen. “He’s a former behavioral analysis agent with more experience in this area than I have.”
Discomfort tightened the tendons along her neck and pulled her shoulder blades closer together, and Payton severed the urge to soothe her agitation. “Thank you, but I have a therapist. Besides, we’re here to interview my mother. I’m the only one—”
“Your mother is on her way home, Dr. Kotite. I took the liberty of interviewing her myself.” Reese’s phone pinged with an incoming message. “We have the surveillance footage from Kotite Litigation that corroborates Ms. Leonard’s story. Your mother confronted your father at his office. They got into an argument about the affair, and then she was escorted from the building. According to her, he deserved far worse than the fate he met, but her alibi confirms she was nowhere near his firm’s building at the time of his death.” Reese motioned them down the corridor. “Ready?”
“You’re good.” Admiration weaved through Mallory’s voice as she moved to follow.
“Yes, I am.” The task force lead directed them to the captain’s office and closed the door behind Mallory. A familiar face greeted her on the other side as Lincoln Dunn—former BAU analyst and current criminologist—motioned for Mallory to take a seat, leaving him and Reese on the outside.
“She’ll be fine, Payton,” Reese said. “You and I both know that woman is far more capable of handling herself than she wants us to believe. Just look at what she’s already been through.”
Payton scrubbed a hand down his face. They were running out of time. Fast. “What is it you’re hoping to gain from this little experiment?”
“Midazolam’s main side effect is amnesia, as we know, but that doesn’t mean Mallory’s memories are gone forever. They might just be buried.” Reese crossed her arms. “Don’t worry, Detective. Lincoln knows what he’s doing. He’ll leave her in one piece.”
He’d signed on with Reese’s task force to bring down the collective of killers pulling this city apart, but that didn’t mean he was happy about her knifing through his personal life. “If I were you, I’d be more concerned about the spit up on your suit.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Just relax.” The agent twisted the blinds closed then took a seat across from her. He interlaced his hands together, elbows resting on top of his knees. Agent Lincoln Dunn didn’t look like any FBI agent she’d encountered. Especially with the baby toy wedged between him and his chair. “And breathe.”