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Her words hit Ethan like a well-placed punch. Whatever he’d felt toward her after she’d left him, he would never have wished her more suffering. Surely there was a limit to how much loss one person should have to livethrough.
Switching his regard to Ethan, Nyle asked, “Think this will lead toanything?”
Ethan opened his mouth to respond, then lost his train of thought as Alexa peeled away from them. She retrieved her shoes, taking her cell out of one them, and balanced on one leg to slip one on, then the other. “It’s a long shot,” he said, forcing his gaze away from her. “Any number of people might park in a scenic area for a bit, take in the view.” Or, he added silently, to find privacy for other types of activities. “And the UNSUB was just as likely to access the site by water as land. But let’s take another look at the embankment. See if there are any indentations the rain didn’t wipeaway.”
“Forensic ident guys would have found them if they were there,” Nyle muttered, but he and Alexa fanned out from Ethan to examine the rockyslope.
A half hour later Ethan admitted failure. They headed back toward thevehicle.
“If the offender did drive into the province,” Nyle said, “the only passenger list he’d show up on would be the ferry. But without a name, we have no way of identifyinghim.”
“Right. We have the airline, bus and train manifests for entry into New Brunswick shortly before the victims there were killed. We can compare them to the ones for Nova Scotia and see if the same name pops on any ofthem.”
“It has to be done,” Nyle said resignedly as he rounded the hood of the car. “But that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward toit.”
Neither was Ethan. It was a mind-numbingly tedious task. Which pretty much summed up the nature of police work. Sporadic bouts of action punctuating days of dead-end interviews, or poring over documents and grainy video. Nine times out of ten the trail to the killer surfaced from one of the deadly dull chores. Maybe they’d catch a break this time around. They were certainly dueone.
* * *
They stoppedat a gas station so Alexa could change, and an hour later Ethan nosed the vehicle into the parking lot of RCMP’s H Division Headquarters in Halifax’s Burnside Industrial Park. The building was multi-leveled red brick, fronted by an arc of mirrored windows. It was minutes away from the forensic suites where they’d attended the autopsy. He pulled into a parking space in the crowded lot. “Captain Sedgewick is our contact here. He has the manifests and he’ll allot us some workspace.” His cell vibrated as he got out of the car and he answered it as he waited for Nyle andAlexa.
“Manning.”
“Sergeant Manning, this is Officer Baxter of the Halifax Police Department. I’m in charge of the tip line handling the recent homicide victim’sID.”
Adrenaline did a fast sprint up Ethan’s spine. “Hello, Officer Baxter.” He thumbed on the speakerphone as Alexa and Nyle joinedhim.
“I know we’ve been running down lots of false reports,” the officer said, “and maybe this is just another one. A woman working as a maid at the Claremont Towers on Broadway called it in. No match on Simard’s name or aliases, but she recognized the picture. Said he’d propositioned her when she went in to clean room seven-fifteen.”
Ethan reminded himself how faulty eyewitness accounts could be. The reminder didn’t temper his response. “When wasthis?”
“The call came in about ten minutesago.”
“Thanks. I’ll look intoit.”
After getting the address of the hotel, Ethan disconnected, and looked the address up on his phone. GPS claimed it was twenty minutes away. He mentally tacked on another ten, fifteen minutes based on the traffic they’d experienced on the drive toheadquarters.
“Even a dead end would be more exciting than poring over manifests,” Nyle saidhopefully.
“We can do both. You and Alexa go in and meet with Captain Sedgewick. I’ll check this out. Probably be back in an hour to helpout.”
“Okay,” Nyle agreed, “but Alexa and I are going to save the pages with the smallest print for you.” She nodded inagreement.
The corner of his mouth pulling up, Ethan turned back toward the vehicle. “I’d expect nothingless.”
* * *
“Obviously,I can’t offer to open the room, Sergeant.” The hotel manager, Lon Haskell, was politely apologetic. “We can’t be certain Louise identified room seven-fifteen’s occupant correctly, and an error like that could cost us aguest.”
“I understand that. But perhaps I can verify the maid’s ID. Do you have security cameras on thatfloor?”
“Yes, of course.” The hotel manager smoothed the garish pink paisley tie he’d paired with a sober black suit. “They’re mounted at each end of the floor with another outside theelevators.”
“I want to see the footage from the cameras for that floor beginning with the date Simmons checkedin.”
Relief flashed across the man’s expression. “That I can arrange. If you’ll follow me to security?” As they strode toward the bank of elevators in the lobby, Haskell pulled a radio from his pocket and spoke quietly intoit.
Security turned out to be two cramped adjoining rooms on the far end of the fifth floor. Stepping through the doorway after Haskell, Ethan took in the rows of cameras that lined one wall. “Do you have the playback for seventh floor ready, Phil?” The manager addressed the young balding man who’d bounced up nervously at their entrance from his chair facing thescreens.