Page 27 of The Truth You Told (Raisa Susanto #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Raisa

Now

A text message from Kilkenny was waiting for Raisa when she left the bar and Malkin behind.

Come to Pierce’s office when you’re done.

It should have taken her twenty minutes to get back to the office, but she made it in fifteen.

The secretary waved her through, and she walked in without bothering to knock.

Pierce sat behind his desk, but Kilkenny leaned against one of the full-wall windows, half turned to the view as if the conversation were of no import to him.

And then, of course, there was Kate Tashibi, looking essentially the same as she had on the street in Tacoma. Although this time, Raisa noticed a slinky black tattoo that slithered down from her hairline into the collar of the men’s white button-down she wore over black leggings.

“Agent Raisa Susanto,” Kate said, breaking the silence first. “I’m hoping I can escape without any bruises today.”

Pierce made an inquiring sound at that, but Raisa ignored him.

“That seems like it will be up to you,” Raisa said.

Kate smirked. “Oh, now that sounds promising.”

Raisa rolled her eyes and took the second chair. “Did I miss much?”

“Nope,” Kate answered for the men. “We were negotiating.”

“What is there to negotiate?” Raisa posed the question to Pierce, but it was Kate who answered.

“Well, I have my own agreement with Mr. Conrad. And, you know, you might think I shouldn’t act as if that’s binding because he’s a terrible person, but I have a reputation to uphold,” Kate said with a shrug that said It can’t be helped .

“I thought this was your first film.”

“Right, that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Kate said. “I go back on my word now as a documentarian, as a journalist, and no one ever trusts me again.”

“What did you promise Conrad?”

“That I’d get Agent Kilkenny down here before the execution date,” Kate admitted, with a little grimace tossed Kilkenny’s way. He still hadn’t turned from the skyline, but Raisa could see every bit of tension in his body. And he’d already been strung too tight before this. “Which, sorry, but, you know, greater good.”

Kate even had a way of talking that reminded Raisa of Isabel. “Greater good? Really?”

“Yeah. Of Conrad finally admitting he didn’t kill Shay,” Kate said.

All three of them shifted at her easy use of Shay’s first name. Like they’d been friends. Like she had any right to her at all.

“Okay,” Pierce drawled out, clearly sensing that he should control the conversation or something was going to snap. “And how exactly did you figure it out?”

“The letters didn’t match,” Kate said, blinking innocent eyes at all of them. Somehow, Raisa knew she was lying. “You really should have hired a forensic linguist. Saving a few bucks is never worth it.”

Raisa glanced at Kilkenny, who had relaxed enough to meet her eyes. Neither of them was going to argue that point, no matter how grating Kate was on both their nerves.

“And we’re supposed to just believe that Conrad confessed after you showed him the discrepancy,” Pierce said.

“Yes,” Kate said. “He did. That footage you can watch right now.”

She patted the oversize messenger bag at her feet.

“What footage can’t we watch, then?” Raisa asked. It seemed strange that what they wanted—the interview where Conrad admitted his guilt—wasn’t what Kate was interested in protecting.

“The rest of it,” Kate said, with a fake, apologetic smile. “Sorry!”

Kilkenny finally spoke. “You drove in here after giving us the impression we could watch the footage.”

It was quiet, damning.

“You can,” Kate said, her tone still upbeat and helpful, despite her actions being anything but. She reached for her bag again, but Kilkenny held up a hand.

“You drove in here, you ‘got stuck in traffic,’ you killed the clock until it was after five p.m.,” he said, now fully turned. Raisa had never seen such anger, such disdain, on his face. “You wanted to make sure we couldn’t get a warrant today without calling in some favor from a judge, who certainly won’t grant it on an emergency basis.”

Kate sat back in her chair, her innocent expression dropping away. In its place was something hard, that same something hard that Raisa had glimpsed in their confrontation in Tacoma.

“It’s my film, Agent Kilkenny,” Kate said, her voice cold and empty of any emotion. “And the person who gets to decide who else watches it early is me—not you and certainly not a judge who would rubber-stamp a warrant.”

“We’ll get it first thing tomorrow. You bought yourself fourteen hours, congratulations,” Kilkenny said.

Kate stared back, impassive.

She would have known that, Raisa realized. If Kate had needed longer, she would have figured out a way. She could have easily dodged Pierce’s calls for a few days, then pretended to be traveling from out of state. No one would have been surprised if it had taken a while to get the footage.

But all she’d needed to do was buy herself fourteen hours. Or, fourteen plus the time it would take them to go through the documentary.

Raisa ran through their conversation again.

I have my own agreement with Mr. Conrad.

“He’s giving you something tomorrow,” Raisa realized. “Some part of your agreement, it’s happening tomorrow.”

Kate’s expression flickered just enough that Raisa knew she’d hit the mark.

Pierce dialed his secretary. “Please call and find out if Ms. Tashibi has an appointment with Nathaniel Conrad scheduled for tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to make that poor woman go through all that work just to make your point,” Kate said, rolling her eyes. “Okay, you’re right. I have an appointment with Mr. Conrad in the afternoon. What brilliant minds you are. I’m essentially his biographer, and it’s the day he’s dying. Of course I have an appointment with him.”

That didn’t quite sit right for Raisa. Of course, it made sense. But if Kate wanted just one more interview with Conrad, why was she being so stubborn about handing over her footage? Raisa didn’t buy the artistic-principles excuse, especially since Kate seemed happy to let them watch the part with the biggest bombshell.

Kate’s documentary revealed something she didn’t want the FBI to know before Conrad died, Raisa was sure of it.

She just couldn’t imagine what that something was.

Meanwhile, Pierce called off his secretary. “Never mind, thank you.”

Then he turned his attention back to Kate. “What you don’t seem to understand, Ms. Tashibi, is that we can get that appointment canceled.”

Kate inhaled sharply enough for them all to hear, a misstep when she’d been so composed until then. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh, I assure you, me and my brilliant mind can and will,” Pierce said, the resolve in the words clear. He wasn’t bluffing.

This was a different side to him. From what Raisa had seen of him working, he usually went on a charm offensive. But this was just as effective, at least in her book. She was perhaps slightly more impressed by him now.

The moment that followed was fraught. Kate was trying to scheme her way out of showing them the footage, and the rest of them were staring at her, probably wondering the same thing: Was she being protective of her work, or was this something else?

“Fine,” Kate said, reaching for her bag a third time. “You want the footage. Here you go.”

She set a backup hard drive on Pierce’s desk.

“You know, there’s a rule of thumb while making a documentary,” Kate said, with one of those fake, sweet smiles. “For every minute of film you use in the final version, you need an hour of raw footage. Good luck.”

And with that she sailed out the door.

“You could call her back in and make her turn over the edited version,” Kilkenny said.

“It’s still going to be too many hours,” Raisa said, standing. “I’m going to try to reason with her.”

“She didn’t exactly seem—” Pierce said, but Raisa was already headed through the open door at a jog.

The elevator was on her side, and Raisa managed to sprint out of the office in time to watch Kate beep open the doors on an old Honda Civic not unlike Raisa’s own.

“Hey,” Raisa called out.

Kate glanced over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes when she spotted who it was.

Raisa slowed to a stop not even out of breath, all those mornings running paying off.

“Are you going to try to use the fact that we both have tits in an effort to bond now?” Kate asked, hands on her hips, ready for a confrontation.

“Look, I mastered the abrasive thing just as much as you clearly have,” Raisa said. “I get it, you’re tough and don’t take shit from anyone.”

“So that’s a yes?” Kate snarked back. “That might have worked better before you threw me up against a wall.”

“Please, a stranger was stalking me three months after I got shot,” Raisa said, annoyed that she was forced into playing this game. “What don’t you want us to see on those tapes?”

Kate barked out a laugh. “Oh man, I thought you would at least try to be subtle. You got me. With one direct question I’m going to tell you all my hidden secrets. Fed.”

“You don’t care that we’re trying to figure out who killed at least three people?” Raisa asked, letting go of that information to see if she would get a reaction. She didn’t.

So Kate knew the second killer had likely struck more than once.

“I do care,” Kate said. “Is that all? I have dinner plans.”

“You care, but you’re not going to help us figure it out?” Raisa asked.

“Who? Them?” Kate waved to the building. “It took them five years to catch Conrad. Like, I’m no Monday-morning quarterback, but don’t think you’re going to convince me Pinky and the Brain are going to solve this before Conrad rides the lightning.”

“They do lethal injection down here,” Raisa said absently as she parsed through that. “You think you can.”

A dimple flashed in her cheek, a blink-and-miss-it tic. “You seem smarter than them, but just barely. What do you think?”

“I think you made some kind of deal with the devil,” Raisa said, riding her gut instinct. “And that you think he’s going to tell you something that will help you figure it out.”

Kate smirked but said nothing.

“But I’m still stuck on why you don’t want us to view the raw footage,” Raisa said. “If he hasn’t told you what you need to know yet.”

Some of the arrogance dropped out of Kate’s expression, as she stared off into the distance at nothing. Then she swiveled her jaw, a decision made. “He’ll know if I tell you anything.”

“And if you tell us, he won’t give you the information you think you need to solve this,” Raisa followed. “You could have told us that.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “You’ve had an easy life, haven’t you? You just think everyone can trust law enforcement?”

Raisa didn’t argue. She knew why people didn’t trust them better than most. “We can act like we don’t know anything.”

“I don’t trust any of y’all, sorry,” Kate said. “One of you might be in cahoots with the wrong person. I’m going to go ahead and do my best to keep my word. Tomorrow, we’ll all be better for it. You can thank me later.”

“You really trust Conrad?”

“I’d trust a killer’s promise quicker than I’d trust that the Bureau could handle this without fucking something up,” Kate said, lifting one shoulder. “And if he’s screwing with me, I’ll be no worse off in thirtyish hours. Then I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Raisa stared at her, knowing when she’d hit a brick wall. Whatever was going on with Kate and Conrad, she wasn’t going to sway Kate to abandon the course.

“There’s no way we can get through ... what? Two-hundred-forty-some hours of footage,” Raisa said in a Hail Mary. “Give me a scrap. The tits connection has to count for something.”

Kate laughed. “Being funny counts for something.” She paused. “Okay. I’m guessing you don’t watch a ton of true-crime shit.”

Raisa gave her a dry look. “I live it.”

“Right, well, sometimes when you’re living it , you forget the obvious tenets that we mere mortals know as gospel.” Kate studied Raisa’s face, as if expecting her to intuit what she meant. When Raisa didn’t, Kate continued with exaggerated patience, “The first victim always matters.”

“Right.” Raisa had even written the woman’s name down when she’d been familiarizing herself with the facts of the case, sitting in her car outside Kilkenny’s house. But they weren’t hunting the Alphabet Man. They were hunting his impostor.

And apart from the letters matching his idiolect, they had hard evidence that it had been Nathaniel Conrad who had killed Sidney Stewart.

This wouldn’t help them find their second author.

“It doesn’t matter who Conrad’s first victim was,” Raisa said.

“Really? Are you sure about that?” Kate asked. “Because our two killers seem pretty intertwined.”

“You could just actually tell me,” Raisa said.

“If you don’t figure it out—which I’m guessing you won’t—I’ll tell you once I no longer have to worry about pissing Conrad off,” Kate said.

Raisa shook her head. “You have to give me something.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Kate said, sliding back into annoyed. But she crossed her arms and thought for a second. “You know where Conrad’s first victim worked, right?”

“Yeah, she was a gas station attendant,” Raisa said. “Up near Dallas.”

“But not quite in Dallas, right?”

Raisa hadn’t exactly memorized the location. She’d have to trust Kate on that one. “Okay.”

“So why was he in that area?” When Raisa stared at her blankly, Kate made a frustrated sound. “You’re smarter than that brain trust upstairs, but that’s a low bar, darling.”

“I’ve been on this case for twenty-four hours, tops,” Raisa said. She wasn’t actually sure that timeline was accurate, but the point was valid.

“Okay, well”—Kate shrugged—“if you can figure out why that’s important, you might actually get yourself on the right track.” And then she turned and slid behind the wheel of her car. She revved the engine until Raisa stepped back, and then tore out of the parking lot.

If Conrad had been stopping at a gas station outside Dallas—back when he’d lived there—he’d been headed somewhere out of town.

Raisa pulled out her phone and texted Kilkenny.

Where was Conrad driving to when he stopped for gas? For the first victim.

The typing bubbles appeared immediately. Not to, from.

Raisa rolled her eyes. Okay, where was he driving from?

Nothing popped up for a few moments, but Raisa guessed that was more because she’d surprised him with the question than because he didn’t know the answer.

He had been interviewing for a job.

Raisa closed her eyes. She didn’t need to ask where, but his next text answered it anyway.

In Houston.

Then he’d driven back to Dallas and murdered his first victim along the way.

So, what had it been that had triggered the serial killer waiting beneath his skin?