After Michael and Kara left to track down Will Lattimer, Matt had a conference call with his boss in DC, checked in with Ryder Kim, took care of a lot of paperwork—the bane of his existence—and tried to reach Lieutenant Gomez. She didn’t answer. He sent her a text message that he’d like a few minutes, then he headed over to the courthouse to meet with Detective McPherson.
McPherson and his small team had taken over a tiny office in the courthouse near the main security office, and welcomed Matt in with a wave toward a table of coffee and pastries. Matt helped himself to coffee. It was surprisingly good.
“What have you learned since yesterday?” Matt asked.
“We’ve learned a lot, but still no ID. I had teams working all night going through security footage. He came in—in the disguise we saw on camera—thirty minutes before the lockdown. Then we caught a glimpse of him on camera two blocks away—not positive it’s him, but general build matches. Then poof. The image isn’t clear.”
“Can you send it to me anyway?”
McPherson nodded, made a note. “There’s no cameras in the area he disappeared, near the freeway. Personally, I think he either had a car or someone picked him up, but I can’t prove it. Either way, he’s in the wind, and we just don’t have a good image of him. Our artists are working on the camera footage and removing the beard, some weight, the hair. We have something, but no one is completely happy with it. It’s a lot of guessing, nothing that will hold up in court. Still, we’re showing it around to everyone who works here to see if they recognize the guy.”
It’s what Matt would have done.
“We’re going through Dyson’s current and pending cases, recent paroles, threats,” McPherson continued. “The guy was well respected. The defense lawyers whined about him, but mostly because he didn’t like to plead except on first offenses—they had no problem with his tactics in court. Judges said he was always prepared, professional. No one really knew him personally, though. He kept to himself.”
“What about his investigator? Sharp? Does he have any information or theories?”
McPherson looked at his watch. “I’m meeting with Peter Sharp in Dyson’s office in fifteen, if you want to sit in.”
“Thank you,” he said. “This feels like a professional hit.”
“Yep. Reads that way for me, too,” McPherson said. “Not a random crook who sees the lawyer who sent him away and goes ballistic. And what scumbag comes equipped to rappel off a roof? Plus, no one is getting that grappling hook through security.”
Matt hadn’t thought of that at the time, only about the knife. “You’re right.”
“Yep. Which is fucked, because this building is pretty damn secure. Of course, there are always ways to get in and out, but that hook was intact—it couldn’t be broken down into harmless parts and snuck in. It wasn’t concealed under his suit coat—and I’ve watched the video a dozen times. He didn’t have it on him. Which means it was in the stairwell or on the roof.”
“Roof,” Matt said.
McPherson nodded. “Yeah, my guess, too. He had a key to the roof—no signs of forced entry. Or, someone left it open for him—which says inside job. Those doors are solid—no one is breaking them down. They are accessed with a maintenance key—not everyone has them. So my guys are running down all the maintenance staff. Thing is? Every deputy has a key as well. And there’s only two people who can come in and bypass security. Deputies and night janitorial staff. One of them could have put the grappling hook on the roof anytime in the two days before the murder.”
“I assume janitorial is well vetted.”
He shrugged. “City employees. Backgrounds, et cetera. But I’m pulling every janitorial staffer who has been in this building in the last forty-eight hours.”
“Why forty-eight?”
“Because there’s a lot of shit that happens on the roof—they have vents and control panels and other stuff I don’t even know what it does. Someone is up there near every day. Sure, it could have been hidden someplace, but there’s not a lot of places to hide a duffel bag with a grappling hook and rope.”
“It could be one of your people.” Matt didn’t want to say it because he wasn’t certain how the deputy would respond, but he had to bring it up, even if only to dismiss it.
“We have fifty to eighty deputies assigned to this courthouse every day. Some are here on rotation, some are here for light duty, some are here because they have a year until retirement and don’t want to strain themselves. They’re all seasoned.”
“Bribes?”
“Maybe. But for murder?” He shook his head. “I don’t see it. Anything is possible, but my money is on janitorial. Before you say anything—I am looking at my people. But I’m doing it, not the feds.”
“I don’t need to be involved but if you need my help—discreetly—just ask.”
He looked surprised by the offer. “Appreciate it.”
“My people believe Dyson’s murder is connected to Chen’s. Thoughts?”
“Hell if I know. Like I said, Dyson’s respected. I’ve started digging into his private life, though the time and place of the murder tells me this is related to his job.”
“I agree,” Matt said.
“Still, we cover all the bases. Has an ex-wife, no kids. She’s a high-priced lawyer, at the same firm he used to work at. She’s now a partner, said they had an amicable divorce, still saw each other for dinner once a month or so. Except—he canceled the last two dinners they had planned, and that apparently was unusual. So I got to thinking, was he on a big case? Working something that took all his time? Worried about something? Threats?” He shrugged. “So far, nothing. He reported no threats to the marshals or to my office, but maybe his investigator knows more.” He glanced at his watch and stood up. “Time to chat with Sharp, see what he’s found in Dyson’s records.”
When Matt and Detective McPherson arrived at Dyson’s office, Peter Sharp was sorting through stacks of files on the conference table. He looked up, acknowledged the men and said, “This is everything that Craig was working on. He had the Chen hearing, a plea conference this afternoon—that’s been assigned to another DDA—and multiple pending trials in various stages of disposition.”
“What about the grand jury investigation that he mentioned to Detective Quinn?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know much about that. I primarily verify facts for the DDA—background checks, review witness statements, things like that. If the file is here, you’re welcome to look at it, but I haven’t seen it.” Peter shook his head in frustration.
“What happens to the grand jury investigation now?”
“The DA will review the case, but I have no idea what Craig had or even who his witnesses were. He didn’t talk much about it, and I don’t see the DA pursuing it. Craig had a lot of leeway because of his seniority and record. The DA has his own pet projects.”
“What was the case specifically about?”
“There was a public complaint about a transitional housing project. Craig thought there might have been fraud or at a minimum gross government negligence, but it was one of his side projects. Honestly, the first I heard of him impaneling a grand jury was late last week.”
He handed McPherson a red file folder. “These are all the threats that Craig has received, most recent on top. They’re copies—your office should have all the originals, but I made some notes that might help.”
McPherson took the file. “Anything in here that we should flag?”
“The only one that sticks with me is Lamar Forsyth. He was very angry when Craig declined to prosecute after he was carjacked. There wasn’t enough evidence and the case is still open, but Craig was blunt—without evidence, there’s no prosecution. Forsyth won’t let it go and blamed Craig.”
“We’ll talk to him,” McPherson said. “If anything else comes to mind, please let me know.”
Peter nodded. “If you need anything, please call. I want to help.”
Matt followed McPherson out.
“I don’t think that Forsyth is our guy, not like this, but I’ll check him out,” McPherson said.
“I’d really like to know more about the grand jury investigation,” Matt said. “I thought Sharp would know more.”
“DDAs all work differently. Some keep things to themselves, some talk to everyone. And a grand jury investigation is a whole other ball game. I’ll ask the DA when I talk to him—I have a meeting this afternoon in his office. You’re welcome to join me, but I don’t think he has any details. Like Sharp said, Dyson was a senior prosecutor and had a lot of leeway. This is the third—maybe fourth—DA who’s had the job while Dyson’s been here.”
“Text me the time and place, and if I can, I’ll join you. Otherwise, if you’d pass on anything you learn?”
“Absolutely. You know, you’re not like some of the dicks from LA FBI. No offense.”
“None taken.”
It wasn’t the first—and Matt didn’t think it would be the last—time he heard that comment.