2nd Chance - James Patterson [62]
A few minutes later, Madeline Akers called from San Quentin.
“I think I’ve got what you want,” she announced. I couldn’t believe she was responding so soon.
“Over the past year, Coombs was paired with four different cell mates. Two of them have been paroled, but I spoke with the other two myself. One of them told me to stuff it, but the other, this guy Toracetti… I almost didn’t even have to tell him what I was looking for. He said the minute he heard on the news about Davidson and Mercer, he knew it was Coombs. Coombs told him he was going to blow the whole thing wide open again.”
I thanked Maddie profusely. Tasha, Mercer, Davidson… It was starting to fit together.
But how did Estelle Chipman fit in?
A force took hold of me. I went outside and dug through the case files. It had been weeks since I’d looked at them.
I found it buried at the bottom. The personnel file I’d called up from Records: Edward C. Chipman.
In his thirty unremarkable years on the force, only one thing stood out.
He had been his district’s representative to the OFJ… the Officers for Justice.
It was time to put this on the record. I buzzed Chief Tracchio. His secretary, Helen, who had been Mercer’s, said he was in a closed-door meeting. I told her I was coming up.
I grabbed the Coombs file and headed up the stairs to five. I had to share this. I barreled into the chief’s office.
Then I stopped, speechless.
To my shock, seated around the conference table were Tracchio, Special Agents Ruddy and Hull of the FBI, the press flack Carr, and Chief of Detectives Ryan.
I hadn’t been invited to the latest task force meeting.
Chapter 76
“THIS IS BULLSHIT,” I said. “It’s total crap. What is this—some kind of a men’s club?”
Tracchio, Ruddy and Hull from the FBI, Carr, Ryan. Five boys seated around the table—minus me, the woman.
The acting chief stood up. His face was red. “Lindsay, we were about to call you up.”
I knew what this meant. What was going on. Tracchio was going to shift control on the case. My case. He and Ryan were going to hand it over to the FBI.
“We’re at a critical moment in this case,” Tracchio said.
“You’re damn right,” I cut him off. I swept my gaze over the group. “I know who it is.”
Suddenly, all eyes turned my way. The boys were silent. It was as if the lights had been cranked up, and my skin prickled as if it had been cauterized.
I leveled my eyes back on Tracchio. “You want me to lay it out for you? Or do you want me to leave?”
Seemingly dumbfounded, he pulled out a chair for me. I didn’t sit. I stood. Then I took them through everything, and I enjoyed it. How I had been skeptical at first, but then it began to fit. Chimera, Pelican Bay… Coombs’s grudge against the police force. At the sound of Coombs’s name, the departmental people’s eyes grew wide. I linked the victims, Coombs’s qualification as a marksman, how only a marksman could have made those shots.
When I finished, there was silence again. They just stared. I wanted to pump my arm in victory.
Agent Ruddy cleared his throat. “So far, I haven’t heard a thing that links Coombs directly to any of the crime scenes.”
“Give me another day or two and you will,” I said. “Coombs is the killer.”
Hull, Ruddy’s broad-shouldered partner, shrugged optimistically toward the chief. “You want us to follow this up?”
I couldn’t believe it. This was my case. My breakthrough. Homicide’s. Our people had been murdered.
Tracchio seemed to mull it over. He pursed his thick lips as if he were sucking a last drop through a straw. Then he shook his head at the FBI man.
“That won’t be necessary, Special Agent. This has always been a city case. We’ll see it through with city personnel.”
Chapter 77
ONLY ONE THING was standing in the way now. We had to find Frank Coombs.
Coombs’s prison file mentioned a wife, Ingrid, who had divorced him while he was in prison and remarried. It was a long shot. The PO said he hadn’t been in touch. But long shots were coming in right now.
“C’mon, Warren.” I nudged Jacobi.