Sight Unseen(80)
“Spoken like the true puppetmaster you are.”
“So how did you know about his Friday evening drive to La Mesa?”
“The pizza box on the counter. The box itself was generic, but the laser-printed label on the side told me it was D’Agostino’s Italian restaurant. The label also had David Warren’s name and phone number and showed that it was a pickup order phoned in at 10:37 P.M. Friday. D’Agostino’s is just a few blocks from one of the most notorious drug neighborhoods in the city. Since I had already smelled three distinct types of weed in that apartment, it wasn’t a stretch to think that he had gone over there for a late-night fortification run. It would also explain why he hadn’t wanted to tell us about it.”
“And what about his guests last night?”
She shrugged. “There were two drinking glasses in the sink, and they each had slightly different shades of lipstick on their rims. The glass top of the coffee table showed fresh rings that matched the size and contours of those two drinking glasses, but no others I could see. Clearly, the women sat on the couch, and Warren sat in the chair facing the two of them.”
Lynch smiled. “Clearly.”
“The couch reeked of weed, enough that I figured they were there drinking and smoking for a couple hours.”
“Even I could smell that. But how do you know it was last night and not today?”
“Because the stench wasn’t on Warren. Not on his clothes or hair, meaning he had changed and showered between then and now. That tipped the odds in favor of last night. Also, the lipstick on the drinking-glass rims was dry and cracking. It probably wouldn’t look that way after only a couple of hours.”
“Dazzling as usual.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“No, I wouldn’t presume. I’ve always known exactly what your capabilities are. However, you still manage to occasionally surprise me. But all this still doesn’t place him at or away from the murder scenes.”
“You’re right, but it did allow me to exert pressure and get more from him than we might have otherwise. All I know for sure is that he’s not the man I saw at Corrine Harvey’s house. That still doesn’t eliminate him as having played a part. Griffin should have his people flash Warren’s picture around at the club.”
“I’ll make sure he does.”
Lynch’s phone vibrated, and a second later the text chime sounded on Kendra’s. She glanced at her screen.
CONTACT GRIFFIN ASAP.
She showed it to Lynch. “You too?”
Lynch showed her his phone with the identical message. He punched Griffin’s number, and it was answered immediately. “Lynch, is Kendra there?”
“Yes, right next to me. I’m on speaker.”
“Good. Kendra, we just hit the jackpot on those numbers you picked up from the envelope in Colby’s cell.”
“It was a usage account?”
“Yes. It was a five-hundred-minute talk time refill from Lightwire Communication, a regional mobile carrier that sells disposable mobile phones and pay-as-you-go account cards. You usually see them at discount stores, price clubs, and gas stations. The card was activated in a mobile phone about three weeks ago.”
“We need to subpoena those records,” Lynch said. “I have a contact in the Justice Department who can help push that through in a hurry. If you give me the—”
“It’s already done, Lynch.” Griffin sounded annoyed. “I don’t need your contacts. Believe it or not, my position comes with a fair amount of influence.”
“Of course. Just trying to help.”
“Anyway, within the hour, we should have information on everyone who was called by this phone.”
Kendra’s hand tightened on the phone as excitement gripped her. “And there’s a good chance one of them is Myatt.”
“That’s the way we see it,” Griffin said. “We’ll immediately pull photographs on them, and we’ll send agents out to round up as many as we can. You two should probably be here for this.”
“Do you think we’d miss it?” Lynch took Kendra’s elbow and nudged her toward the car. “We’re on our way.”
* * *
THE MOMENT KENDRA STEPPED off the FBI office elevator and entered the second floor “war room,” she immediately sensed a different energy than on her other visits. There were more agents and support staff, now numbering approximately thirty, and they moved with greater purpose and barely contained excitement. They spoke louder and more quickly, and even the clicking of computer keyboards seemed to be supercharged.
“Can you feel it?” Lynch squeezed her arm. “It’s called optimism. You did this.”