December 19th, 2016
Las Vegas, Nevada
Sarge was stunned when he heard that Heather lasted exactly four days in custody.
She was being transferred for a court hearing with six cops around her and in full body armor when a sniper put a bullet through her head.
No sign of the sniper was found, so a totally professional hit. Someone had been worried about being brought out into the open after all the years and didn’t want that to happen.
That would have been the end to that if not for the fact that Heather had been giving extensive testimony, on advice of her lawyer, in hopes of getting witness protection.
All carefully recorded. But sadly, from what Cavanaugh told them a few days later, she didn’t know names.
She didn’t know about the girl being killed in the Landmark, and she had no idea what had happened to the girl who wrote the Darling Black columns for her until she surfaced.
What he and Pickett and Robin had worked had been the system Heather used. She explained it all in detail.
Cavanaugh did learn that her fake brother and future husband, Bob Steven, had known about the scam from the summer and had been so worried about her that he had helped her fake her own disappearance and put in the fake Heather in her place.
Their kids knew nothing about anything. The newspapers and the police made that clear almost from moment one.
The original parents had been fake, just cover for them. Heather and Bob Steven were paying them. The two had actually died, for real, in the auto accident by Big Bear.
After Heather was killed, Mike and Sarge figured that Sarge and Pickett and Robin were clear. The case was over as far as they were concerned. Sarge ended up paying Mike far less than what Sarge thought it was worth, but Mike would have none of taking more money.
“Those are my rates,” Mike had said. “Trust me, you didn’t get a deal.”
So now, just six days before Christmas, Sarge and Pickett were headed toward breakfast actually talking about what they were going to do for the holiday.
Details such as where to put up a tree, that sort of thing. And if they wanted to do a Christmas Day party or not.
Sarge did, Pickett wasn’t so sure yet.
They had just reached the main door to the Golden Nugget on Fremont street when Sarge’s phone rang.
It was Andor.
“Finally dug out the informant’s real name and description,” Andor said. “I sent it to Robin and she should have it for you when you get to breakfast. Her name was Dawn Gilbert. Twenty-five, unmarried, worked in the cage at one of the Hughes properties.”
“Thanks,” Sarge said. “Anything we should know?”
“Parents still alive,” Andor said. “They never knew what happened to their daughter. You going to want to tell them? They live here.”
“Yes,” Sarge said. “We’ll do it.”
“Thought you would,” Andor said. “Great job. See you at the game after Christmas.”
With that Sarge put the phone back in his pocket and on the escalator up to the buffet he told Pickett what Andor had said.
Pickett just sighed. “Finally they will get closure.”
Sarge could only nod to that. Too bad they would never know who locked her in that room.
Or would they?
He quickly dialed Andor back and asked him for the testimony about Dawn’s case and her friends and who she had implicated.
Then, after they all got settled and they had all looked over Dawn’s information and when exactly she vanished, Sarge said simply, “Let’s delay telling her parents for a day to find her killer.”
“And how would we do that?” Pickett asked.
“We cross-reference,” Sarge said. “Andor is sending her testimony and we figure out which person on there knew about the old tunnel at the Landmark. And who had the most to lose. And who was closest to her who might be able to lure her there.”