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Kara’s eyes watered and she held her breath as Michael passed by her and held his hand up. On three, he pushed open the door, the shield up to protect him from attack.
The roof was a smoke-field. They couldn’t see anything. Michael motioned for Kara and Jones to stay on the door—the suspect could attempt to escape past them. Though the air was marginally better outside and the smoke was dissipating faster than in the stairwell, Kara’s eyes burned. She and Jones stood sentry, alert for any movement. Almost immediately, the others disappeared in the smoke.
Jones said, “Fire suppression is on the side of this wall. I’m going to put out this smoke.”
“I got your back,” she said.
She could barely see him through the haze of smoke, but the fresh air was blowing it up and away.
Jones grunted as he worked to turn the spout for the emergency water. It gave way, and he grabbed the hose and sprayed down the area. The smoke bombs were extinguished almost immediately. There were five distinct “bombs” that provided ample cover for the suspect to hide.
Fully alert and finally breathing freely, Kara looked around for a threat, saw no one. She heard shouts of “clear,” then a distinct “Aw, shit” from Matt.
She itched to find out what was happening, but held her post. Matt returned and said, “He rappelled down the roof. Hook is still attached to the building. Can’t see anyone below.”
Newman approached. He was talking on his radio, reporting what had happened. Deputies and LAPD were being dispatched on the grounds to search for Craig’s attacker. “Description?” he asked Kara.
“Five foot eleven male, one-eighty, Caucasian or light-skinned Hispanic, dark curly hair, dark beard, glasses, wearing a suit—” She stopped talking. “Matt, what’s that?” She gestured to a pile of what at first appeared to be rags by a roof vent.
Newman repeated the description to his commander then put on gloves and inspected the pile. Held up a suit.
“That’s what he was wearing,” Kara said. “Is that a wig?”
“Wig, fake beard, glasses, the whole nine yards,” Newman said. “We might be able to get DNA or other evidence off it.” He called for a crime scene investigator. “He left the hook and rope as well, might be traceable.”
“Damn. Damn. How’s Dyson? Is he going to be okay?” she asked Matt.
He turned and looked at her. His expression said it all.
“No,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry, Kara. He was dead before the paramedics got to him.”
11
Detective Lance McPherson with the sheriff’s office debriefed Kara. The sheriff had jurisdiction over the courthouse and would be taking lead, which irritated Kara—if it was an LAPD investigation, she’d be able to get more information. Ultimately, the sheriff’s office would work jointly with LAPD or turn the case over to a special unit, but right now, it was their crime scene.
She didn’t lie to the detective who took her statement, just left a few things out. Though she reported that Craig had asked her to call Will Lattimer, she claimed she didn’t know why, and she didn’t admit that she knew him.
Will Lattimer—if it was the same person she remembered—ran a nonprofit organization. She’d met him through her partner Colton Fox, and the last time she’d seen him was at Colton’s funeral in March. She wanted to track him down before McPherson.
She didn’t say a word about Violet, the IT employee from city hall who may have witnessed Chen’s shooting. If she had understood both what Craig said and implied, Violet was a whistleblower who could be in danger. Will Lattimer went to pick Violet up after she witnessed the Chen shooting, but Craig seemed very concerned about her safety. Therefore, Kara was concerned. Until she knew exactly what Will and Violet had to do with Chen—or Craig’s bigger investigation—she would be careful who she told. Names went into reports, and keeping Violet’s name out of the record seemed wise.
Though she didn’t want a bodyguard, Michael stayed by her side while Matt was on the roof with the crime techs. It wasn’t a coincidence that two people involved in the same trial had been killed. Her mind was whirling with everything she’d learned, but it came down to one key fact: Craig was running a close-to-the-vest investigation about corruption in city government, had called a grand jury, and he was now dead.
McPherson finished up with a few more questions, then thanked her and was about to cut her loose when his partner walked in. “We got the footage.”
Kara leaned forward. “Can I see?”
McPherson motioned for her and Michael to follow him to a small security room on the ground floor.
The security chief had the feeds cued up and said, “I’ve already cut copies, but thought you might want to see it right away.”
The wide angle was from the plethora of ceiling cameras that completely covered the halls, elevators and common areas. Staircases, individual offices and the roof were not covered.
She saw Matt and Michael exit Craig’s office, bypassing the elevator and turning toward the west staircase. A minute later, Kara and Craig followed. Though the surveillance was soundless, the visual showed them in an intense conversation.
The killer came into view, followed Craig and Kara toward the elevator. She had glanced back at him—she didn’t remember doing that, but the video showed she had, and dismissed him. He didn’t walk fast or slow, just seemed to be heading for the elevator. The killer bumped Craig and Craig turned toward the man, a surprised look on his face. Did he recognize his killer? Or was the shock from being stabbed? The killer headed toward the east stairwell and didn’t look back.
