Page 27 of The Writer

“I don’t think they did.” He nods at his monitor. “You need to see this.”

Declan gets to his feet, stretches, and rounds the desks. The lobby security camera footage is frozen on Cordova’s screen. When he presses Play, the doorman opens the door and Denise Morrow enters the lobby, crosses to the elevator, and presses the call button. She stands there for a moment, goes in the elevator, and faces forward as the doors close. The doorman is visible in the bottom corner of the screen for a few more seconds, then he heads back outside. The time stamp runs from 9:20:18 through 9:21:04—less than a minute.

Declan isn’t sure what he’s supposed to see. “So?”

Cordova rewinds the video and freezes it when Denise Morrow enters the elevator and faces the camera. He picks up a pen and uses the tip to point at her image on the screen. “You see any blood?”

She’s wearing a long black coat. It’s buttoned at her neck and stretches down to her ankles. She’s wearing black leather gloves too. “Can’t see anything. She’s all bundled up.”

Cordova shrinks the video, moves it to the side of the screen, and opens a second window containing another frozen image of Denise Morrow. “This is from the L-Tron footage.”

On the screen, Morrow is sitting where Declan found her, her back against the wall. David Morrow and the knife are on the floor. Her white blouse is covered in blood.

“So where’s the coat?” Declan asks. “The gloves?”

Because the L-Tron records a 360-degree image, Cordova is able to swing the camera around until they’re looking back down the hall to the foyer and front door. He zooms in and settles on a coatrack near the door; her black coat is hanging from one of the hooks. The pockets are bulging, and when he zooms in even closer, a hint of one of the gloves is visible. “I checked with CSU. They processed her coat and didn’t find a speck of blood on it. Zero transfer.”

“If the blood wasn’t on her when she came up, then it had to be from her husband. I told you it was a lab screwup.”

“It’s not the lab,” Cordova says. “You’re going to love this.” He opens a third window. “CSU ran the VR camera again when Denise Morrow was in the back bedroom, right after you finished your walk-through. They wanted to capture the scene without any people present.” He circles the shot around from David Morrow’s body to the door again and zooms in on the coat. “See anything different?”

“No bulge in the pockets. The gloves are gone.”

“There’s a very good reason for that.”

After minimizing the other windows, Cordova locates twophotographs from the lobby security camera footage. On the left is Geller Hoffman when he arrived; on the right is a picture of him leaving. The long black coat he’s wearing is identical to Denise Morrow’s. His pockets don’t look bulky when he arrives, but they do when he exits.

Declan gives a low whistle. “Bastard switched the coats.”

“Yep,” Cordova agrees. “How much you want to bet he walked the real murder weapon out of that apartment too?”

“Maybe David Morrow wasn’t the one who was cheating.”

“Denise Morrow and Geller Hoffman?” Cordova sounds skeptical.

“Geller Hoffman’s not the kind of person to hide a murder weapon just because you ask nice. But if he’s sleeping with her…”

Cordova considers that, then nods. “We need to learn everything we can about this woman. Every detail. I’ll call Judge Thomas and get a warrant for Hoffman’s apartment.”

THEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

Log 10/18/2018 23:16 EDT

Transcript: Audio/video recording (body cam of Detective Declan Shaw)

Transcriber note: Video malfunction. Recording is audio only.

[Detective Declan Shaw] Transcriber, I’m entering the apartment of Ruben Lucero, aka Lucky. My partner, Jarod Cordova, is already on scene. [Knock.] You in here?

[Detective Jarod Cordova] Yeah. In back.

[Shaw] Pew. For the record, this place smells like ass. He’s got a pest problem. Roaches. Mice.Probably rats. I’m no expert, but I’m guessing that’s because the untidy fuck has old food rotting everywhere. Pizza boxes. Half-eaten cans of ravioli. Spoiled carton of milk just sitting out on the counter. Piles of newspapers and magazines nearly to the ceiling. Clothes everywhere. Who the hell lives like this? It’s a hoarder’s paradise. Jarod, where are you?

[Cordova] Bedroom. Look at this.

[Shaw] Give me a second. My camera’s been acting up, so I’ve got to describe this place for the record.

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