A Different Dawn (Nina Guerrera) Page 11

  Cahill continued with his recollection. “Seeing how Tommy had turned things around, I called a friend of mine who was a regional director for a security company and asked him to give the boy a chance. Tommy was good with computers and technology, so he could help install home-security systems.”

  Nina gave Wade a meaningful look before turning back to Cahill. “Did your friend hire him?” she asked.

  “Tommy worked for Jexton Security for a few years until he got his Realtor’s license and changed careers. I lost track of him after that, but he seems to have done well for himself selling homes.”

  “You mentioned he helped the other boys?” Wade asked.

  “Yeah, after he got his first job in security, he paid it forward, recommending the other boys to work there, too, once they got out of the detention center.” Cahill shrugged. “Probably kept a bunch of them off the street and out of jail.” He shook his head. “I really thought Tommy was a success story. I don’t know what he did to make you two come to see me, but it must have been serious.”

  Wade leaned forward, intent. “You said you thought criminal activity would not be in Tommy’s character anymore. Why do you believe that?”

  Cahill considered a moment before answering. “When he first came to us, Tommy was on drugs. The hard stuff. We spent months detoxing him. I wonder how much of his crimes had to do with supplying his habit and how much of his violence inside the center was about going through withdrawal.”

  “I see your point,” Nina said, trying to reconcile this with a cold-blooded killer. “What was his family like?”

  Anyone who would slaughter families had to have major issues in that area. Cahill’s insights into Tommy Kirk’s childhood might bridge the gap between his apparent rehabilitation and the psychopathy of a serial killer.

  “This is going back a few decades,” Cahill said, “so my recollections may not be perfect, but I don’t remember any problems with his family.”

  Nina waited quietly, giving him time to dredge up any loose scraps of memory.

  “His father never came to visit,” Cahill finally added. “But his mother and sister did.”

  “He came from a family of four?” Wade asked. “Father, mother, and sister?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Was it a younger sister?”

  “I believe so.”

  “This is important, Mr. Cahill,” Wade said. “Did Tommy ever act out in late February or early March . . . especially if it was a leap year?”

  After a long pause, Cahill shook his head. “Not that I recall.”

  Sensing they had pumped Cahill dry, Nina ended the interview with a catchall question. “Is there anything else about Tommy we haven’t asked? Anything that might help us understand his personality?”

  Cahill’s brow furrowed. “Don’t think so.”

  Nina handed him a business card. “Call us if you remember something.”

  Nina followed Wade out to the black Suburban parked in the driveway. “Cahill seemed genuinely disappointed when we told him we were here to talk about Kirk,” she said to him as she hoisted herself up into the driver’s seat.

  “Cahill thought Kirk had turned his life around,” Wade said. “But maybe Kirk just figured out how to hide his propensities better.”

  She backed out of the driveway. “Interesting that his family consisted of a mother, father, and sister. The exact composition of each murdered family.”

  Wade buckled his seat belt. “It’s like he’s the son who’s absent in each case. That must be significant, but we still don’t know what his original trigger was. Or the precipitating stressor right before he killed the Vega family twenty-eight years ago.”

  She worked through the profile with him. “The original trigger would have been something involving his family, probably during his childhood, no?”

  “Almost certainly,” Wade said. “This unsub is obsessed with family.”

  She noticed Wade still referred to “the unsub,” which meant he was not prepared to call Kirk a suspect at this point. “And the precipitating stressor would be something completely different that happened after he got out of juvie. An incident that retriggered him.”

  “Stressors could include the loss of a job, a relationship, or a health crisis, but our information indicates Kirk had successfully transitioned into his new career in realty. He never had any health issues Breck could find, and he never married.” He frowned. “We’re missing something important.”

  Nina wove her way through traffic as she headed to the Phoenix field office, hoping like hell Wade was wrong.

  Chapter 19

  The next morning, Nina adjusted the visor to block the morning sun as the Suburban glided toward central Phoenix. An evening spent guzzling too many cups of coffee while the team tracked down every scrap of information they could find about Thomas Kirk had left her unable to sleep after they got back to the hotel the night before. She had eagerly discussed the developments with Breck, who was equally wired on caffeine, until almost midnight.

  The team had planned to descend on Kirk’s house first thing in the morning before he left for work. She followed closely behind Perez’s unmarked sedan as they turned onto Kirk’s street, Wade in the front passenger seat and Breck and Kent in the back.

  “The place looks quiet,” she said as they eased to a stop a couple of houses down from the target address.

  Perez got out, ambled to the driver’s door, and stuck his head in when she buzzed the window down. “Do you want me to request some uniforms?”

  She shook her head. “We’re not going in heavy. At this point, it’s a knock-and-talk.” She used the police vernacular she knew Perez would be familiar with for an initial approach to the subject of an investigation under voluntary circumstances.

  Less than sixty seconds later, Nina, Wade, and Perez were at the front door while Breck and Kent covered the back of the house. You could never tell when a knock-and-talk would morph into a cut-and-run.

  After no response to the doorbell, Nina pounded with her fist. The front door creaked open a fraction. She darted a glance at Wade and Perez before raising her voice.

  “FBI. We’re looking for Thomas Kirk.”

  Silence.

  “Mr. Kirk, we need to speak to you.”

  Nothing.

  Nina craned her neck to peer inside. A few dots of crimson on the pale gray tile floor caught her eye. “I think there’s blood on the floor.” She drew her Glock, and both men followed suit.

  Wade tapped his ear, activating the com link to Breck and Kent. “The front door is open, and Guerrera saw blood inside,” he said. “We’re making entry.”

  Evidence suggesting the possibility of injury to someone inside, coupled with the homeowner being a person of interest in a homicide investigation, was enough to constitute exigent circumstances, giving them the right to make entry to ascertain the safety of anyone in the house.

  “FBI,” Nina announced again as she surged into the foyer, both men close on her heels. Law enforcement techniques around the country and in different agencies were similar enough that she didn’t need to look at her companions to know they were taking up positions to buttonhole around corners and avoid a crossfire as they swiftly cleared the house.

  Nina peeled off to investigate the spots of blood she had seen dappling the tile by the dining room near the foyer. Peeking around a wide decorative column, she saw two bare feet sticking out. She recognized the purpling of the legs in the areas closest to the floor and knew that gravity had caused lividity.

  “Clear,” Wade’s voice carried from down the main hall.

  She opened her com link and called out so everyone would hear. “I’ve got a white male lying in the dining room. Obviously deceased.”

  “Stand by,” Wade said. “Everyone else, continue clearing the house.”

  She waited, gun drawn, for her team to finish and join her in the dining room.

  “He’s been stabbed,” she told them. “Multiple times.
Looks like he crawled in here from that direction.” She pointed down the hall.

  “There’s a trail of blood from the master bedroom,” Wade said. “He was attacked in bed. Most likely while he was asleep.”

  Nina bent down to peer at the gaping wounds on the victim’s neck. Her eyes traveled up to his face. “It’s Thomas Kirk. I recognize him from his driver’s license photo.” She grimaced. “I’m surprised he made it this far. Those gashes are deep.”

  Kent holstered his weapon. “Someone slit his throat. Made sure he couldn’t cry out or talk on the phone. I’m guessing Kirk was trying to make it out the front door to get help.”

  “This is now officially a homicide,” Perez said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ve got to make some calls. My department has jurisdiction.”

  Perez was correct, but Nina forestalled him with a raised hand. “Hold on a second.” She glanced around at the chairs lying on their sides, the drawers pulled out from the ornate china cabinet, the artwork dangling askew from hooks on the wall. “What does this look like to you?”

  Perez followed her gaze. “A burgoc gone bad.”

  Police parlance for a burglary of an occupied dwelling.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not buying it, are you?”

  He blew out a sigh. “I agree that it’s way more than a coincidence that our prime suspect gets whacked right before we have a chance to interview him.” He continued before she could interrupt, “But that doesn’t change the fact that Phoenix Homicide has primary jurisdiction here. I need to make notifications, and we’ve got to stop contaminating the crime scene.”

  “You know that’s what this unsub does,” Wade chimed in. “He stages things to look like something they’re not.” He jerked a thumb toward the hallway. “I was in the master bedroom, which was also ransacked.”

  “Which means three things,” Kent said, holding up a finger. “This wasn’t a random burglary.” He raised another finger. “Kirk wasn’t our unsub.” A third finger went up. “Kirk knew something the real killer didn’t want us to find out.”

  “You left out one more key point,” Nina said. “Somehow, the unsub knew we were coming here this morning.”

  Chapter 20

  An hour later, Nina was standing outside Kirk’s house, conferring with her team, when Perez strode across the lawn to join them, irritation stamped on his features.

  “You have a visitor at the perimeter,” he said to her without preamble.

  Buxton, who had arrived at the scene half an hour earlier, turned toward Perez. “Perhaps you’d better explain, Detective.”

  “The patrol sergeant coordinating perimeter access told me there’s a woman demanding to speak to FBI Special Agent Nina Guerrera.” Perez dragged a hand through his thick dark hair. “And she’s got a reporter with her.”

  “Why isn’t the reporter in the media-briefing area?” Buxton asked. “And why can’t your Public Affairs handle a request for information? There’s no need for Agent Guerrera to answer questions.”

  Perez blew out a frustrated sigh. “It’s that same TV reporter who was on the news the day before yesterday. Apparently, the guy covered the Llorona case when it happened, so he knows all the players and a lot of details.”

  “That’s James Snead with Channel Six News,” Nina said, recalling the articles and newsclips she had reviewed on the flight to Phoenix. “Who’s the woman with him?”

  “Teresa Soto,” Perez said. “Snead interviewed Teresa about her sister’s death . . . and about how the case is being reopened by the FBI.”

  Kent let out a stream of obscenities. “Who leaked to the media that we were reopening the Llorona case?” He leveled a hard glare at Perez. “No one in the FBI would talk to a local reporter about it.”

  Perez stepped in close to Kent. “You accusing me of something, Kent? Because if you are—”

  “At this point, we don’t have time to worry about that,” Buxton said, cutting off Perez’s rejoinder. “Right now, we need to deal with Maria Vega’s sister before she decides to hold her own press conference.”

  “She wants answers,” Nina said. “Can’t blame her. We knew this would happen, but I didn’t think it would be this fast.”

  “You’d better go over there and talk to her, Agent Guerrera,” Buxton said.

  Perez turned away from Kent to stand by Nina. “I’ll come with you.”

  “It’s not your place to talk about the Llorona case,” Kent said. “That’s part of an FBI investigation now.”

  “That the PPD is assisting with,” Perez shot back. “We handled the original case and—”

  “You mean mishandled the original case,” Kent said.

  “Gentlemen.” Buxton stepped between them. “Stop.” He cut his eyes to Nina. “Go.”

  She pivoted and strode across the lawn. The moment she made her way around the Phoenix police command bus, she spotted Teresa and Snead behind yellow perimeter tape.

  Nina still had trouble looking at her despite their previous encounter at the Mercado Vecino the day before. The resemblance to Maria in the crime scene photos was jarring.

  Teresa called out to her as soon as she was within earshot. “You’re looking into my sister’s death, Agent Guerrera.” She put a hand on her hip. “Why?”

  Nina saw Snead signal his cameraman, who hefted a camera to his shoulder. She ignored the reporter and directed her response to Teresa.

  “We are reexamining the evidence in Maria’s case because we want to be sure the conclusions reached at the time were accurate.”

  Teresa jerked her thumb at Snead. “This reporter told me more than that. He said you people suspect someone might have murdered my sister, her husband, and my baby niece. He said it might be the same person who killed that family on the east side of the city a few days ago.”

  Worse than she’d thought. Above all else, she did not want to lie to this woman whose family had been through so much sorrow. She did not want to add to their pain, but she had to maintain the integrity of the investigation—whatever was left of it.

  “We are exploring that possibility.”

  “That’s all you have to say?” Teresa jabbed a finger at her. “My family has carried not only the grief of Maria’s death but the shame of having the whole community believing she killed her family.” She redirected her finger to point at a Phoenix police van. “They said she was jealous of her husband. They said she went loca. They said she murdered her own sweet little girl.” Teresa’s eyes filled with tears. “My niece. I always knew it wasn’t true. I knew Maria could never have done such a thing. No one would listen. And now . . . now . . .” Her trembling hand flew to her mouth, muffling a sob.

  Nina could not stop herself from putting an arm around the woman’s shaking shoulders. “Lo siento,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry for what you have been through.”

  Eyes brimming, Teresa looked up. “Is it true? Did someone kill my sister and her family?”

  Nina knew what she was supposed to say. The company line was that there was an ongoing investigation, and nothing could be released until there was more evidence. Materials from the crime scene were being processed, we’ll know more shortly. We’ll release the information when we can, blah, blah, blah. Looking into Teresa’s eyes—so much like Maria’s—she couldn’t do it.

  Nina nodded slowly. “We believe so.”

  Teresa threw her arms around Nina in a tight embrace, then pulled back. Her brows drew together. “Promise me you will find the bastard who did this. You hear me? You find him.”

  Snead, who had been getting every moment of the exchange, poked a microphone toward Nina. “Sources tell me the Doyle family murder is related, and so is the death of Thomas Kirk, which is why you are here now. Can you confirm that the FBI is investigating a serial killer in Phoenix?”

  She disengaged from Teresa to face the reporter, responding without taking the bait. “The circumstances surrounding Mr. Kirk’s death are under investigation by the Phoenix poli
ce, who have jurisdiction in the matter.” She gestured toward Perez, who had followed her over. “You’ll have to ask them for a comment.”

  Her assertion was technically accurate. She turned on her heel and began walking away, meeting Perez’s dark gaze with a grimace. She’d thrown him under the bus and they both knew it. He stepped past her, prepared to give Snead the party line.

  Snead sidestepped Perez to call out to her. “Why is the FBI at the scene of a local Phoenix murder, Agent Guerrera? What are you hiding?”

  She didn’t acknowledge the question. Snead was right. Their presence at the Kirk homicide made it clear there was more to the case, but how had he figured out the connection between the Llorona case and the Doyle case? The reporter was putting things together quickly.

  Perhaps too quickly.

  Chapter 21

  After another night of unsettled sleep, Perez had picked Nina up at the hotel while the rest of the team rode to the Phoenix field office in the Suburban. Perez had taken her on a brief detour for coffee before parking at the Phoenix police crime lab in the bright morning sun.

  The lab director had called Perez late the previous afternoon, indicating she had significant findings to report. After hearing from Perez, Buxton had detailed Nina to review the director’s information with him while everyone else spent the morning at the PFO poring over the cases from the other field offices.

  The mountain of incoming data provided various points of comparison for Breck, who would consolidate everything onto a color-coded spreadsheet. Nina had never met anyone who loved charts, spreadsheets, and graphs as much as the cybercrime specialist. When Nina and Perez returned from the crime lab, the team would compare notes to see how Thomas Kirk’s murder fit into the growing profile.

  As Nina pushed open the main entrance door leading into the lab’s two-story open foyer, her feet stopped of their own volition. An enormous mobile in the shape of a DNA double helix dangled overhead, suspended on a hook affixed to the soaring ceiling. Petri dishes, beakers, and other scientific equipment glinted in the early-morning light as they gently rotated from wires, creating art from science.