Killer Ambition - [51]

“Don’t talk to me about slaving, white girl. I just got out of court. You ready to do lunch?”

“I’m starving to death. Meet me in the lobby.”

Toni had to be back in court by one thirty, so we shared a quick salad in the lobby restaurant at the New Otani Hotel.

“What’re you doing in court?” I asked.

Toni made a deprecatory wave. “Nothing fun. Just pretrial motions on my double.”

Toni’s defendant was a twenty-five-year-old meth freak who’d beaten his twin sisters to death with a rubber mallet.

“Is the mom still showing up?” The mother had tried to help him kick his addiction for years before finally giving up and throwing him out. She blamed herself for the killings and felt it was her duty to attend every hearing.

“Like clockwork, and it’s killing me to watch her suffer the way she does.” Toni blinked and looked away for a moment. “Enough about my sad stories, what about yours? Fill me in.”

I caught her up on the case.

“I think you’re right. There had to be more than one person involved,” she said. “But do you think this Stuart Connor did the killings alone?”

“I don’t know how one person manages to pick up the ransom money in Fryman Canyon, then get out to Boney Mountain, kill two kids, bury one, drive the other one down to LAX in the trunk of a car, then hop a plane to New York. Do you?”

“Of course I could manage it, but that’s me.”

I grinned. Toni probably could. “We’re in a holding pattern until we find this Stuart character. But I still feel like he had a partner in all this. We eliminated everyone who was around at the time, but obviously we’ve missed something-”

“And Russell and Dani didn’t tell anyone about it?”

“So they say. But everyone and his brother was running in and out of their house the whole time. And Russell and Dani were a mess. Who knows what they might’ve inadvertently leaked? And who knows where Russell might’ve put down his cell phone?”

Toni had a skeptical look. “Something about all this doesn’t sit right with me.”

This is why Toni and I always talk our cases over with each other. It’s not just a friend thing, it’s a practical necessity. Because when we’re running hard on a case, we can get mired in the details and miss the big picture. We’ve helped/saved each other this way too many times to count. Now, Toni’s remark made me stop and take stock. I thought about what we’d seen and heard since we first met with Russell and company. I’d assumed someone in the house had to have gotten wind of what was going on in order to know in advance where the money drop was supposed to be. That wasn’t a bad assumption-in fact, it was pretty logical. But Toni was right. There was something off about the whole scenario, because Brian and Hayley wound up on Boney Mountain-not in Fryman Canyon.

I sighed and shook my head. “I agree with you, Tone. This machine is missing some parts for sure. I just don’t know what they are.”

“Bet your buddy Stuart does.”

“If we ever find him.”

My cell phone played the opening bars of “Killer Joe,” an old jazz standard that was Bailey’s ringtone.

“Dorian’s finished with Hayley’s cell phone,” Bailey said without preamble.

“Pick me up.” I told her where we were.

We dropped Toni at the courthouse and promised to give her updates. Dorian was in her office typing a report. We stood in the doorway and waited for her to look up.

She peered at us over her reading glasses. “Sit.”

We obediently sat, and I waited to see if she’d add, “Stay.” She didn’t. When she finished typing, she passed the phone, now encased in a paper bag, to us.

“I’ve got prints, some of which I’m sure will come back to Hayley, since the settings indicate it was her phone.”

At last, something had broken our way. Bailey pulled on gloves, opened the bag carefully, then removed the phone and turned it on. After a few seconds she said, “I don’t see any voice mails at the time of the kidnapping or later.” She touched a few other places on the phone. “But I do see text messages. A lot of them.”

I leaned in anxiously and tried to read the screen.

“Here,” Bailey said. She placed the phone on Dorian’s desk where we could all see it.

The first text was from BRIAM-we’d verify, but it was most likely our Brian, the M at the end for his last name, Maher: still waiting for drop. stay in car.

The next message was from Hayley to Brian, and it was sent three minutes later: what’s going on?

It was eerie, reading Hayley’s last texts. Like hearing a voice from the grave. And it was painful, seeing that little pink phone-small and vulnerable, like Hayley.

Brian didn’t answer. Two minutes later, Hayley texted him again: u should be done by now! Where r u?

Still no answer from Brian. Hayley texted again, this time three minutes later: what’s going on???

With each text, I could feel her rising panic.

Again, no answer from Brian. Four minutes later, Hayley texted him: r u ok?

No response. Five minutes later, Hayley tried again: where r u??? what’s happening??

Then, finally, four minutes later, Brian texted Hayley: I’m ok. All clear. Meet me on trail.

“That was the last message,” Bailey said.