Page 67 of Crosshairs

“What’s that?”

“I came straight to Trilling’s apartment after I heard about the shooting. The fat Armenian super said he saw him leave early this morning and he hasn’t been back since. Sounds like our boy is on the prowl.”

“Could be.” I didn’t know what else to say. Trilling actually had been on the prowl. That’s how he’d found Lou Pershing.

Wu said, “I’m gonna enjoy arresting this prick. Hurry up on that affidavit.”

My mind pictured the buttoned-down IA sergeant trying to physically handle Rob Trilling. I doubted he and I together could do it.

CHAPTER 83

IT WAS EARLY afternoon by the time I stepped through the doors of the FBI office in Manhattan. This time, instead of talking to ASAC Robert Lincoln, I linked up with the personnel director, Francesca Scott. All I needed to do was look at Rob Trilling’s time sheets, to see if he had been working during any of the sniper murders. I wanted to see if there was any pattern with his work hours as they related to the shootings. I had a warrant in hand, but the director greeted me cheerfully with a big smile and said if I reviewed the file with her I didn’t need court orders.

Francesca Scott’s office was well located—in terms of reducing my risk of running into someone I didn’t want to talk to—on the main floor at the front of the building. We chatted as she led me down a short hallway.

She said, “You’re kind of a celebrity, Detective Bennett. I’ve read your name in the papers a dozen times over the years. Ididn’t think you would do something as mundane as look at time sheets for an evaluation.”

I said, “Rob Trilling is working in our unit. They just wanted me to see what kind of hours he was working over here. You know, the usual.”

She had a charming laugh. “I’ve been the personnel director here for nine years. Everything is usual. I’m happy to get a chance to talk to someone from outside the office. My husband works for ConEd as a supervisor. My conversations with him aren’t much more interesting than the conversations around here.” She had a twinkle in her eyes that I appreciated.

At first, she wanted me to review the computer-generated time-sheet reports. I explained I needed to see the original, handwritten time sheets. I left out the part where I wanted original signatures because I might need them as evidence.

The personnel director turned her attention to her computer as I started to look through the file of Trilling’s time sheets. I flipped through his initial paperwork and noticed that the time sheets were not in chronological order. Great. Luckily there weren’t too many of them. Trilling had punctually turned them in every two weeks, and his supervisor at the FBI had signed them.

Then I found a leave request, for an entire week in September.

That made me recall a comment Trilling had made about being at a VA counseling retreat in September.

All I could do was stare at the slip for a moment. Thomas Bannon, the firefighter from Staten Island, had been shot in the middle of that week. This really did change things quite a bit. If Trilling had been out of town at a VA retreat, he couldn’t have shot Thomas Bannon.

I had to move quickly. I didn’t want to make it seem urgent to Francesca Scott. She’d been nothing but pleasant and helpful. I eased from my chair and asked if I could take a couple of the time sheets as well as the leave slip.

I was out the door as quickly as I could be without making it look urgent or obvious.

CHAPTER 84

I KEPT TABS on the latest shooting. No one had found any witnesses. Nothing to point to a new suspect. Great. It seemed to be typical for this sniper case. Dennis Wu’s call had told me Rob Trilling was really in the NYPD’s sights. That was no surprise. I couldn’t waste any time. I had to verify that Trilling had been in Albany when Bannon was shot. I had to do it in person. And I had to do it right now. By this time tomorrow, Trilling could be at Rikers.

As I headed to my car, I called Walter Jackson.

Walter said, “I’m working on leads from the last shooting.”

“Anything useful?”

“Zilch. You still running down other leads?”

I explained what I’d learned at the FBI. I said, “I have to be certain. I’m not sure how else to verify this newest lead from the FBI personnel office. If he was actually in Albany at that time, Trilling can’t be the sniper.”

Walter had a brilliant suggestion: he was going to expedite getting Trilling’s credit-card records from the last three months. He’d already submitted a warrant, like he did on most homicides. It’s amazing what credit-card records can confirm. I can’t tell you how many cases I’ve made because I could refute alibis with credit-card receipts.

A few minutes later, I was still in my car when my phone rang again. It was Walter Jackson. His contact with Mastercard had been able to help him immediately.

I said, “I’m guessing you wouldn’t have called me so quickly if you didn’t find something in the credit-card records.”

“That’s why you’re a detective. You’re correct. I have a credit-card receipt from a Holiday Inn in Albany. I’m going to text you all the information, as well as the PDF of the receipt. It looks like Trilling was at the hotel for five days. Thomas Bannon’s shooting occurred on the second day of Trilling’s stay.”

My heart started to beat faster. “I told Harry I was working on the last details of the affidavit. Tell him I’m on a decent lead and will fill him in later. Call me if anything else happens.”

---