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  “If you ever need to talk about anything, I'd be happy to fit you in. I think you'd find I'm an excellent listener.”

  Blondie slammed his door shut.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Stephenson looked up from his desk when Adams got back to the Homicide Unit later that evening.

  Adams took a seat across from his partner. “How’d it go with the doctor?”

  Stephenson placed his hands on the back of his head. “He has an alibi for most of the night. He went to the movies, actually two movies in a row. He watched two back-to-back showings of Fifty Shades Freed and paid with his credit card. I stopped at the theater on my way back and checked their security footage. He was there.”

  “Interesting movie choice.”

  “It gets better. He stops at a bar on the way home, gets drunk, follows a group of women to their car where he jumps onto the hood and hysterically begs them not to leave. According to the arrest report, he kept calling one of them Daisy. He cried out her name the whole ride back to the station.”

  Adams raised his eyebrows.

  “What did the building’s security cameras show?” Stephenson asked.

  “Not much. There’s a camera at the front entrance and three in the parking garage. Twenty-eight of the seventy-five people who entered through the building’s front entrance between five and ten last night had to be buzzed in. The rest used their keycard. I asked Robert’s friend, Travis, if he recognized any of those twenty-eight visitors, but he said no. The footage isn’t the best quality, but I’ll run those images through our facial recognition software to see if we get any hits.”

  “How did Travis get in the building without Robert letting him in?”

  “He was let in by a woman leaving for work. She must’ve presumed he lived in the building. So much for controlled access.

  “Anyway, there’s only one other resident on Robert’s floor other than Dr. Leroy. She’s ninety years old and was watching TV in her apartment during Robert’s time of death. She didn’t see or hear a thing. The entrance to the parking garage is gated. You can only get in with the building’s keycard. The parking garage cameras show Dr. Leroy get into his car and leave the garage at 8:10 p.m. and he doesn't come home until seven thirty this morning.”

  “So, his alibi's solid, but only from 8:10 onwards,” Stephenson said. “I'm guessing the doctor probably killed Robert shortly before he left for the movies, but that's going to be difficult to prove unless we can get a more precise time of death. What else did you find at the scene?”

  “Not much. I dropped Robert’s laptop and cellphone off at TESU to be analyzed.”

  The Technical Electronic Support Unit was located on the seventh floor next to the Homicide Unit.

  “I also sent the drumsticks to the crime lab on my way here from the crime scene. They’re backed up as usual, so it’ll be a few weeks before we get the official results. So far, there’s no match to Dr. Leroy’s fingerprints anywhere in the apartment.”

  “Leroy said he went over and played the drums two nights ago.”

  It didn’t surprise him that Dr. Leroy lied, but it made him wonder why he’d said he’d been in his neighbor’s apartment on Sunday night. There must be something that linked him to Robert’s crime scene.

  “You think the killer played the drums before he killed him?” Adams asked.

  “Or after.”

  Adams leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk.

  “We need to search Dr. Leroy’s apartment. I spoke with Judge Tanner about it this afternoon, but she doesn’t think we have enough on Leroy for a warrant. Maybe we should ask if he’d let us do the search without one.”

  Stephenson let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. “I already tried. He said no.”

  Adams nodded. “Figures. Robert's building manager said she'd received two complaints about the noise from Robert playing his drums in his apartment. Both from tenants on the floor below who have solid alibis for last night. There were no complaints from his next-door neighbor, Dr. Leroy. I think he preferred to take matters into his own hands. The manager said if she got one more complaint, she would've given Robert notice to evict the apartment.”

  “I'll check the traffic cams between his apartment and Martin and Patricia's address on Friday night.”

  “I’ll help you,” Adams said.

  Even though their addresses were less than five miles apart, it took several hours for them to go through every traffic cam footage between Dr. Leroy’s and Martin and Patricia’s residence the night of their deaths. Stephenson studied the map after looking through the last of the footage. It would’ve been possible for Dr. Leroy to have avoided all traffic cameras on his way to their house, but it would have required a great deal of premeditation.

  “It's kind of strange that a middle-aged man with a clean record would suddenly murder three people within less than a week. Although, it happens, I know. When did he move here from Australia?” Adams asked.

  “Twenty years ago. He was twenty-five. I requested a background check from the Australian authorities, but I’m waiting on the report.”

  “Oh, and I almost forgot,” Stephenson added. “Dwayne's two friends saw his arrest on the news and came home early from their snowboarding trip in Canada. They came into the station this afternoon to confirm Dwayne had spent the night at their place the night of Daisy's murder. Only it doesn't change anything. Like Dwayne had said, he didn't get to their house till about midnight, so it leaves plenty of time for him to have killed Daisy. Their statements will be pretty much useless to his defense.”

  “I agree,” Adams said.

  Stephenson shut down his laptop and stood from his chair. “Let’s call it a night.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Adams was already at his desk when Stephenson got to work the next morning. Stephenson had his coat halfway off when Adams got up from his seat.

  “You might want to leave that on,” he said. “I came in early this morning, and I stumbled upon something interesting.”

  “What's that?” Stephenson pulled his rain jacket back over his shoulder.

  “I searched for Martin and Patricia's case file using their address, only I typed in 3898 McGilvra instead of East McGilvra Street. Coincidentally, this pulled up two files, 3898 McGilvra Boulevard East and 3898 East McGilvra Street. The first report is for a break-in that occurred a few blocks from Martin and Patricia's two nights before their deaths. And the addresses are only one word different. Nothing was taken from the home, and, when the mother and daughter surprised the intruder, he fled but hasn't been caught.”

  “So, did they see his face?”

  Adams smiled. “They did. He was wearing a baseball hat, but they describe him as being in his mid-forties, Caucasian with light brown hair, and approximately five ten with a thin build.”

  “It could be Dr. Leroy.”

  “Yes, it could. They believe the intruder entered the house through the back door, and there’s a slight indication the lock was picked. I'm thinking if I got the address wrong, maybe he did too. Anyway, I've already printed off a photomontage that includes Dr. Leroy for them to ID. If we head there now, we could probably question the daughter too, before she goes to school.”

  “Nice work. Let's go.”

  They pulled in front of the Madison Park home twenty minutes later. It was in the same neighborhood as Martin and Patricia’s house, where the streets were lined with maple trees and the homes aged from the 1920’s to new. Stephenson was glad to see two cars were parked in the driveway. The rain had started to come down hard, and he pulled the hood of his jacket over his head as he stepped out of the car.

  When they got under the covered front porch, he drew back his hood. Adams rang the doorbell. Moments later, a teenage girl cautiously opened the door only enough to see who was there.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  According to the police report, she was seventeen.

  Adams smiled, hoping to put
the girl at ease. “Good morning. I'm Detective Adams and this is Detective Stephenson. We have some questions for you and your mother about the break-in you had last week.”

  She looked back and forth between the two detectives.

  “Mom!” She turned back toward the inside of the house. “Some detectives are here to ask about the break-in,” she yelled.

  “Okay, I'm coming,” a woman's voice called from upstairs.

  The girl opened the door wide and stepped aside to make room for the detectives.

  “Come on in.”

  “Thank you,” Adams said, stepping into the entryway.

  Stephenson followed closely behind. The girl used one hand to fling her long dark curls behind her back while she closed the door with the other. A thin middle-aged woman descended the carpeted stairway that led to the entryway, securing an earring as she went. In contrast to her daughter's casual attire, she wore fitted black pants and a red blouse. She stepped carefully in her stilettos.

  “Ms. Phillips?”

  “Yes. Call me Beth.”

  Adams repeated their introduction as the woman reached the bottom of the steps.

  “Have you caught him?” she asked, looking expectantly at the detectives.

  “Not yet,” Adams said. “But we're hoping you and your daughter might be able to answer some questions that would help us identify him.”

  She let out a sigh in her obvious disappointment. “Of course. Would you like to have a seat?”

  She motioned toward the sofa in a formal living room to the right of the entryway.

  “That'd be great, thank you.”

  The detectives took a seat on the sofa. The woman sat across from them in an armchair while her daughter started to go upstairs.

  “Kaitlyn, come sit down.”

  Kaitlyn looked put out as she turned back down the steps. “I'm gonna be late for school.”

  “This is important. It won't take long,” Beth said.

  The girl let out a loud sigh before plopping herself down next to her mother in an identical armchair. She looked across at the detectives with a pained expression.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Chris Pine?” Kaitlyn asked, staring at Stephenson.

  “Kaitlyn.” Beth looked slightly shocked at her daughter's question.

  Adams rolled his eyes. “Trust me, he knows how good he looks. You don't have to tell him. Don't make my life any harder than it already is. He doesn't even work out. It's disgusting.”

  Although he knew his partner was half-joking, his comments were out of character for him to say in front of their two witnesses. He was normally nothing but professional. Stephenson wondered if Richard's flirting with him was getting to his partner.

  “Anyway, we have some photos we'd like both of you to look at and see if any of these men is the man who broke into your house.”

  Adams pulled the photos out from the inside of his jacket and laid them on the coffee table.

  “Okay,” Beth said.

  Stephenson held his breath while the mother and daughter leaned forward to look closer at the pictures.

  They stared at the photos for almost a minute before Beth spoke. Stephenson knew what she was going to say before she said it. There'd been no look of recognition on either of their faces.

  “I'm sorry, I don't know. It all happened so fast, and he was wearing a baseball hat so it's hard to tell from the pictures. I can't be sure.”

  “What about you, Kaitlyn?” Adams asked.

  The girl was still staring down at the photos.

  “Maybe this one.” She pointed down at Dr. Leroy's photo. “But I'm not sure. He looks different without the hat.”

  It's him, Stephenson thought. “Take your time, Kaitlyn. Is this the man who broke into your house?”

  She bit her lip and took another look at his picture then glanced across at all the others. “Maybe. But he also kind of looked like him.” She pointed to a man in another photo who had similar features to Dr. Leroy.

  Stephenson tried his best to hide his disappointment. They were so close to her making a positive ID of Dr. Leroy.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. It could've been either of those two.”

  “Did you notice if he had an accent? Did he say anything while he was here?”

  Beth's eyes lit up. “Yes, he said he was leaving when I came into the entryway. Now that you mention it, I think he might've had an accent. I'm not sure from where though, maybe British? No, it was subtler. Actually, I'm not sure.” She rubbed her fingers against either side of her temples. “I'm sorry. I was so panicked that a stranger had broken into our home. That's all I was focused on.”

  “That's okay,” Adams said. “Do you remember an accent, Kaitlyn?”

  She shrugged. “I didn't notice.” She turned to her mother. “Can I go to school now? I'm already late.”

  Beth nodded.

  She jumped out of her chair and grabbed a backpack laying by the stairs.

  “Hope you catch him,” she said to the detectives before she ran out the door.

  Not as much as I do, Stephenson thought.

  She had only been gone for a few seconds when the front door flung open again. She leaned her head around the door. “He said crikey. I just remembered.”

  “And are you sure he didn't have an accent?” Stephenson asked.

  “Maybe, I don’t know. But I remember he said crikey when he dropped his phone because I thought it was a weird thing to say. Anyway, I gotta go,” she said before disappearing behind the door and pulling it shut behind her.

  “I should probably be getting to work,” Beth said. “Unless there's anything else?”

  Adams looked at Stephenson before he answered. “No, that's all for now. Thanks for your time.”

  “Sorry we couldn't be more helpful.”

  She stood from her chair and the detectives followed her to the door.

  “I changed the lock on the back door and had a security system installed in the house. Do you think we're in danger of the man coming back?”

  “We can't say for sure, but we don't think so.” Adams handed her his card before following Stephenson outside. “If you think of anything else, please let us know.”

  “I will,” she said, closing the door behind them.

  “He said crikey,” Stephenson said once they got in the car. “It had to be Dr. Leroy. We were so close to Kaitlyn identifying him.”

  He leaned his head back against the headrest while Adams drove.

  “I agree, but it still doesn't give us an arrest.”

  Stephenson looked out the window. The rain had stopped, but it had been enough to leave puddles in the street. His mind went back to Dr. Leroy's arrest report from two nights before.

  “Where do you think Daisy was that night when she told Dwayne she was at her sisters? Her parents said they hadn't seen her in weeks.”

  “I don't know. Why?”

  “What if she was with Dr. Leroy?”

  Adams seemed to think about this for a moment. “You think there was something going on between them? Her phone records didn't show any contact between them.”

  They still hadn't found Daisy's phone but were able to get her text and call history through her phone records. Although, having her actual phone would've been more helpful. There were some things, like photos, that couldn't be obtained through phone records.

  “True. But he seemed genuinely stricken when we informed him of her death. It was different than the way he reacted when we told him about the death of his neighbor and one of his patients. Like he actually cared.”

  “Yeah, I agree. But he did work with her every day. He could've had more of a personal relationship with her than with his neighbor and Patricia. Plus, if he killed those two, their deaths wouldn't have come as a shock.”

  “Right.”

  Stephenson's eyes were drawn to the oppressive gray cloud cover that hung over them as he thought about how they were going to prove the docto
r's guilt. Dr. Leroy had killed three people in a matter of days. If they didn't arrest him soon, Stephenson was sure there would be more. He had to be stopped. He had an idea, but his partner wasn't going to like it. He decided not to say anything as they drove back to the Homicide Unit. He needed to talk to Sergeant McKinnon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Stephenson could see the sergeant was in his office when they got back. He stopped at his desk to quickly check his email before he went to see the sergeant. He'd gotten an email back from the Australian police in New South Wales. The doctor's record was clean.

  He forwarded the email to Adams before he closed out of his inbox, all the more intent to carry out his plan. It might be their only chance of catching Dr. Leroy.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He looked to see Richards standing at the end of his desk.

  “Only if you promise not to ask if anyone's ever told him he looks like Chris Pine,” Adams said.

  She looked confused. “What?”

  “Don't mind him. He's just kidding,” Stephenson said.

  She smiled. “Okay. Well, since you've taken over my first homicide case, I wanted to know where you guys were at. Did you talk to his neighbor, the doctor?”

  “I did.”

  “And? Is he your guy?”

  “I think he killed Robert, yes. Unfortunately, we're still a ways off from proving it.”

  “Well, I'll let you get back to work then. Just wanted to get an update.”

  Stephenson watched Adams' eyes follow her as she walked away. He stood and headed for McKinnon's office.

  Adams looked up from his desk. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

  “I need to see McKinnon about something.”

  Adams waited a moment for him to elaborate. “Okay,” he said, turning back to his laptop.

  Stephenson felt a little guilty about going to the sergeant before telling his partner about his plan, but he didn't want to argue about it. And he felt he had no choice. It was their only option if they wanted to stop the doctor from killing anyone else.