Page 14 of Once Broken
“I’ll get my officers on it immediately.But if he’s running—”
“He might not be,” Riley interrupted.“This preparation, the theatrical nature of the murder—it suggests someone who wants recognition.”
The security guard who had let them into the building appeared in the doorway.
“Is everything okay in here?”His eyes widened at the sight of the bulletin board.
Riley turned to him.“How well do you know Malcolm Hartley?”
The guard shifted uncomfortably.“Not well, ma’am.He keeps to himself mostly.”
“When he’s not working, where might he go?Any regular haunts, favorite places?”
“Well, he spends a lot of time at the Silver Screen Café.Hollywood-themed place.Sometimes I see him there when I’m getting coffee before my shift.He’s always alone, always heads for a booth in the back room.”
Riley exchanged glances with Hayes and Ann Marie.“The Silver Screen Café,” she repeated.
Gillian stepped forward.“I know it,” Gillian said.“Local spot, popular with film buffs and studio employees.Decorated with Hollywood memorabilia.”
The guard gave the address for the café, and Riley jotted it down.
Hayes pulled out his car keys.“I’ll drive.”
“Ms.Sinclair, could you stay here and coordinate with the forensics team when they arrive?”Riley asked.“We’ll need everything documented exactly as we found it.”
Gillian nodded, her earlier shock hardening into determination.“Of course.And I’ll have security pull whatever surveillance footage we have of Malcolm’s movements yesterday.”
“Send anything you find directly to my phone,” Riley said, handing Gillian her card.
As they left the security building, Riley felt the case accelerating.The discovery of Hartley’s shrine to hatred had shifted their investigation from theoretical to concrete.Why had Veronica recognized him?As Riley, Ann Marie, and Hayes stepped out of the confines of the security building, the midday sun hit them with an intensity that matched their urgency.
As they passed again through the security checkpoint, the small throng of reporters was still gathered like vultures circling fresh prey.The air buzzed with anticipation, microphones poised like weapons ready to strike.
Cameras flashed in rapid succession as they approached, capturing every determined stride.
Riley squared her shoulders, her face an unreadable mask honed by years of dealing with media frenzy.“No comments at this time,” she stated firmly, her voice cutting through the cacophony like a knife through butter.
Ann Marie glanced sideways at Riley, taking cues from her seasoned colleague while keeping pace.Her posture was confident yet unassuming, mirroring Riley’s composure as she navigated through the sea of inquiries.
Detective Hayes moved ahead slightly, his broad frame creating a path through the throng.“Step aside,” he barked with authority that brooked no argument.His presence alone was enough to clear a path for them all to slip through and continue on their way to Hayes’ vehicle.
“You think he’ll be there?”Ann Marie asked as they climbed into the unmarked sedan.
“If he believes he’s executed the perfect crime, he might maintain his routines,” Riley replied.
Hayes started the engine.“Or he could be halfway to Mexico by now.”
“I don’t think so,” Riley said, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.“This isn’t over for him.”
“You think there’s another target?”Hayes asked.
“I’m not sure yet.But Hartley’s obsession seems tied to both Veronica and her mother.There’s something deeper here than just fixation on a celebrity.”
***
Bill Jeffreys stepped out of his Bureau-issued sedan into Jefferson Bell University’s main parking lot.The campus sprawled before him—red brick buildings with white trim, pathways lined with mature oaks, students moving between classes with the energy of a new semester.Under different circumstances, he might have appreciated the scenic beauty and the crisp September air.Instead, his eyes automatically scanned for threats, cataloging exit routes and sightlines with the habitual vigilance of his profession.
He checked his watch—11:53 AM.April would be waiting in the student union.
