The Trap Read online

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t have them if you legitimately need them for anxiety, but maybe you don’t need to have so many of them. Are you currently seeing a psychiatrist?”

  “No.” Piper’s eyebrows collided over her nose as she dug deeper into her purse. “My regular doctor prescribes them.”

  Piper swung her purse onto the table and dumped the contents. She began pawing through loose change, tubes of lipstick, a sticky breath mint and receipts. No wonder she’d lost one from her purse.

  “Are you looking for your pills?” Kyra asked.

  Her hands still splayed in the hodgepodge of items from her bag, Piper looked up, her eyes glassy and wide. “They should be here. They were in my purse last night, and I hadn’t even left my friend’s couch today until I came here.”

  Kyra slid a glance at Jake. “Could they be in your car?”

  “My purse was zipped. I just opened that part of it now. I left my sunglasses in the car, and my keys and phone are in the outside pocket.” Her chewed fingernails clawed into the table. “I dropped them there. I must’ve lost them last night. I remember I had them. I’d taken them out of my purse and when I heard that freak coming, I shoved them back into my purse. I bet I missed the opening and then I didn’t zip up my purse and that’s how the receipt flew out. I left my pill bottle there. Did you find it?”

  Jake’s mind had been racing along with Piper’s narrative. “Just the receipt.”

  Grabbing the roots of her hair with both hands, Piper moaned and rocked forward. “He has them. He found them. He knows who I am.”

  “We don’t know that for sure.” Kyra rubbed a circle on Piper’s back. “Jake?”

  “We didn’t find a pill bottle there. Otherwise, we would’ve been able to ID you a lot faster than through that receipt.” Jake didn’t bother to point out that Piper’s address wouldn’t be on that prescription label, but there would be enough information on it to track her down for someone savvy enough with computers or devious enough—and they knew this guy was both.

  “Because he took it. He took it.” Piper shoved the items on the table back into her purse, her hands shaking so badly that half the stuff wound up on the floor.

  As Kyra bent over to pick up the items, Jake said, “Even if he gets your address, and I’m not saying he can’t or won’t, you’re no longer living there, right? He’s not going to track you down to your friend’s house.”

  “My girlfriend still lives at my old place. The condo is in both our names.” Piper grabbed her phone and scrolled through the display. “I’ve been trying to reach Erica all day. I wasn’t too worried before because she keeps telling me not to call or text her and I’ve been trying to let her go, but I wanted to let her know what happened last night—not the suicide part, but the rest of it.”

  “We’ll notify her.” Jake kept his own voice calm in the face of Piper’s rising hysteria and his own uneasiness.

  “Forget that. I need to see her now. I need to warn her to be careful.” Piper jumped up from the table, and her chair fell back.

  “We’re not going to let you go there alone. Right, Detective?” Kyra tipped her head toward the door.

  Jake grabbed his notepad and pushed back from the table. Had he expected his day to end any differently? “Where’s the condo?”

  “I-it’s in West Hollywood. Are you coming?”

  “We’re taking you there.”

  On the drive over, Kyra tried to talk Piper down, but the young woman’s agitation increased the closer they got to the condo until she was practically bouncing around the back seat.

  Jake parked in front of the pink stucco building on a street that housed similar condo complexes converted from apartments. He twisted in his seat. “Piper, you stay here with Kyra. I’ll check on Erica and let her know what’s going on. If she wants to talk with you, I’ll call Kyra and you can come up. The way things stand between you two, we don’t need to add a domestic dispute to your life.”

  When he got Piper’s assent in the form of a sniffle and a drop of her head, Jake exited his vehicle and walked between the two stately palm trees that guarded the front door of the building. He buzzed the number Piper gave him, but nobody replied. He was about to use Piper’s key on the front door when two men walking out held it open for him. So much for security.

  He cruised past a bank of brass mailboxes and a few potted palms on his way to the elevator and rode it up to the third floor. A carpet hushed his footsteps as he read the numbers on the doors on his way down the hallway. When he reached Erica’s, he knocked and took a step back, standing in full view of the peephole. As he fished his badge from his front pocket, he glanced down and noticed a dark scuff at the bottom of the door. He ran a finger along the doorjamb, looking for a break or splintered wood.

  He knocked again, calling out, “Erica? I’m a detective with the LAPD. I need to talk to you.”

  He pulled Piper’s key chain from his pocket. She was still on the title, and she’d given him permission to enter. He rapped his knuckles against the door again as he pushed it open.

  His heart pounded when he stepped on some broken glass. As he ventured another few steps into the living room, his eye tracked from the upended coffee table to the lamp on its side to a cracked picture on the floor.

  Erica had put up a good fight. His gaze rested on the body splayed across the couch.

  She’d lost.

  Chapter Four

  Kyra scrambled after Piper, her high-heeled boots doing her no favors, as Piper dashed up the stairwell of the condo building.

  Jake could be having a civilized conversation with Erica right now and Piper’s appearance might upset everything. Kyra’s heels clanged on the steps after Piper’s sure-footed ascent on a pair of Chucks. She heard the fire door squeal open above her, and she cursed silently. Jake had given her one job to do—keep Piper in the car.

  The door slammed shut, the sound ringing down the stairwell. Panting, Kyra scaled the final staircase from the second to the third floor and shoved open the fire door. As she burst into the hallway, she saw Piper stumbling backward from the open door of a unit, her hands clapped over her mouth.

  Despite the fear coursing through Kyra’s body and weakening her knees, she raced forward, her heart hammering in her chest. As she drew closer to Piper, the woman dropped her hands and screamed through her gaping mouth.

  Jake shot out into the hallway and hovered over Piper. “Don’t go in there. You don’t need to look at her. I’ve called 911.”

  Doors up and down the hallway either cracked or flew open, and heads popped out of the condos.

  Jake waved his hands. “Police business. Stay inside for now, please.”

  When Kyra reached Piper, the younger woman threw herself into Kyra’s arms and sobbed. “She’s dead. She’s dead. It’s all my fault. I should’ve told her.”

  Meeting Jake’s flashing eyes over Piper’s head, Kyra murmured, “You couldn’t have known. Nobody knew.”

  The phone Jake gripped in his hand rang, and he pivoted back into the condo. After speaking for a few seconds, he shouted over his shoulder. “The first responders are here. I’m going to let them up.”

  Piper shook her head. “It’s no use. She’s dead.”

  Squeezing Piper’s arm, Kyra said, “They need to process the scene. They’ll find this guy. Let’s wait somewhere else while they do their jobs.”

  “I’m not leaving her.” Piper dug her heels into the carpet and flattened her hands against the wall behind her.

  The elevator dinged and the doors opened on two sheriff’s deputies from West Hollywood and two EMTs.

  Kyra waved at them from down the hall. “Over here.”

  Jake plunged back into the condo ahead of them, and Kyra could see him through the door talking to the deputies. This area belonged to the LA County Sheriff’s Department, not the LAPD, but as Copycat Four w
as most likely Erica’s killer, the task force would be involved.

  With Jake no longer present, giving orders, a few of the residents wandered into the hallway and peppered Kyra with questions, as they stared at Piper pacing back and forth.

  Kyra stopped twisting her fingers into knots and tried to look authoritative. “There’s been an accident. The police will talk to you later.”

  Maybe someone had seen or heard something. Kyra had only gotten a peek into Erica’s place, but it looked like there’d been some disruption. The killer had been reckless coming after who he thought was Piper, so he must’ve been desperate to shut her up.

  The police would have to keep quiet about the motivation for this murder and never let the killer know he’d murdered the wrong woman. His witness was still alive and if not exactly well, she’d be out for vengeance.

  Piper’s mental state worried Kyra. The young woman had already been through so much. Would the death of Erica lead her to another suicide attempt? Piper hadn’t seemed too serious about the first attempt, but you could never tell.

  More cops poured out of the elevator, and one duo began approaching the neighbors. Kyra tried to tune in, but she couldn’t hear their conversation other than a few gasps and a few mentions of Erica’s name. She peered into the corner near the elevator and noticed the camera.

  As Piper careened past her for the hundredth time, Kyra caught her arm. “Your car’s still at the station. Can you call a friend? We can give you a ride home if you want to leave your car there. You shouldn’t be alone.”

  Piper broke away from her and sank to the floor, her head on her knees.

  Finally, Jake peeled away from the scene inside the condo. “We can take Piper back to her friend’s place.”

  “That’s what I told her.” Kyra tipped her head toward the knots of people clustered up and down the hallway. “Did anyone hear anything?”

  Jake dipped his head to hers. “Time of death appears to be in the afternoon. A lot of these people were working. The one guy who works at home is a film editor and had headphones on most of the day. One or two people work a night shift and could’ve been home during the time of the murder. We’ll talk to them later.”

  “Did you notice the cameras?”

  “Sheriff’s department is on it now. They’re going to send the footage to the task force tomorrow.” His gaze slid to Piper on the floor, her chin to her chest, arms wrapped about her legs, and he whispered, “She needs to move.”

  “I’ll get her going.”

  After much coaxing and assurances, Kyra and Jake convinced Piper to leave the building and got her back to the station. Her friend met them there and followed her back to his place after assuring Kyra he’d keep an eye on her.

  Kyra slumped in her chair at her desk. “Did you ever think tracking down the owner of that receipt would lead to this?”

  “It must’ve happened just as Piper said.” Jake ran a hand through his hair. “She dropped her prescription bottle, the killer found it, tracked down her address and killed the person living there—only he killed the wrong person.”

  “I didn’t want to ask you in front of Piper, but did he commit the murder like a copycat?” She folded her arms and tucked her hands at her sides. “Strangulation, playing card, severed finger?”

  “Nope. I’m guessing he didn’t want us to connect this murder with his ritualistic ones. Although he did strangle Erica, he used a cord instead of his hands. Looks like he stole some cash from her purse, probably to throw us off. He may not realize we’ve even spoken to Piper. We certainly haven’t announced there was a witness this time.”

  “Do you intend to keep that out of the press?”

  “As much as possible.” Jake ambled back to his desk to pack up for the night.

  They’d been gone so long with Piper, they had the Copycat Player task force room all to themselves. Now Kyra just wanted to get home and prepare for her meeting with Terrence Hicks tomorrow. “Does it look like Copycat Four might’ve left some evidence at Erica’s place?”

  “He left a mess. That’s for sure. I’m counting on something to turn up.” Jake hitched his bag over his shoulder. “The killer got in deep when he broke one of The Player’s rules, one The Player never broke himself...leave no witnesses.”

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, Kyra didn’t go into the station. She had clients to see at her office in Santa Monica. She’d been able to move one afternoon appointment to the morning to clear her schedule for Hicks, and now she checked the clock on her desk to see if she’d have time to pick up something to eat before Hicks’s arrival at her apartment. She’d crammed all her work into the first half of the day and had missed lunch completely.

  She’d offered to meet Hicks at his office in Century City, but he told her Quinn would be scowling down at him if he didn’t make everything as easy as possible on her.

  Jake had been able to contact the medical examiner on her behalf this morning to make sure he’d be performing an autopsy on Quinn. He’d assured Jake that was his plan all along. Not that Kyra expected a different cause of death from the heart disease that had plagued Quinn for the past several years, but what kind of detective’s daughter would she be if she didn’t make sure?

  On the short drive from her office to her apartment, Kyra cruised past a deli and picked up a turkey sandwich. She ordered a second for Hicks, just in case. Quinn would be scowling down on her if she didn’t treat his attorney right. She still couldn’t believe she’d lost the only father she’d ever known, and her eyes blurred with tears on the rest of her way home.

  When she got to her apartment, she shooed Spot, the stray cat, away from her door, dumped her purse on the low wall that separated her kitchen from the entryway, and placed a notepad, pen and her laptop on the coffee table.

  As she wolfed down her sandwich and a diet soda, she kept her eye on the security footage from her phone. Jake had insisted she install security cameras around her apartment after The Player had gotten too close for comfort.

  She didn’t know the person taunting her with remnants of her past was The Player until recently, and the knowledge had made the teasing more sinister and frightening. He’d never attempted to physically harm her, but he hadn’t put physical violence behind him. He’d killed twice to protect his interests—a homeless woman in Santa Monica who had done his bidding and a true crime blogger who’d gotten too close to one of The Player’s copycats. Had he killed Erica, too? Had Jake even thought of that possibility?

  When the doorbell rang, she jumped even though Terrence Hicks was right on time and she could see him standing at her door from her phone. She balled up the waxy paper from her sandwich and tossed it in the trash.

  She opened the door on the compact attorney, his fit frame outfitted in a navy-blue suit, his bald pate gleaming and a tidy goatee accentuating his chin. He looked exactly like his pictures on the internet.

  He thrust out his hand. “Ms. Chase, I’m Terrence Hicks. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you after hearing about you from Quinn these past ten years.”

  “Kyra, remember?” She invited him inside and offered him the sandwich, which he declined, and a diet soda, which he accepted.

  She popped the tab on the can in the kitchen and poured the fizzing liquid over some ice in a glass as Terrence settled on the couch. She carried the drink to him and said, “Is this okay? We can work on the kitchen table if that’s easier.”

  “This is fine.” He took the glass from her hand and placed it on a coaster. Then he opened his own laptop next to hers and plopped a thick folder onto his lap. “Quinn did everything right. All his assets are in a living trust, and you are the sole beneficiary, except for a few charitable concerns and small items. His most valuable asset was his home in Venice, which, as you can imagine, is worth over two million dollars—and it’s paid off.”

  Kyra glanced around the smal
l apartment she’d been renting for more than five years. Should she move into Quinn’s house? She pinned her hands between her knees. She couldn’t imagine being there without him.

  The transfer of Quinn’s assets went smoothly. She signed where Terrence told her to sign, made a few decisions regarding taxes and even discussed Quinn’s funeral arrangements. Terrence had all the right contacts at the LAPD and had already set things in motion.

  An hour later, Terrence began to stuff the papers and legal documents back into his briefcase and mentioned Jake’s name.

  Kyra jerked her head up from shuffling through her own set of documents Terrence was leaving with her. “What about Jake?”

  “Quinn altered his trust recently, leaving a few items to J-Mac. I haven’t called him yet, but I plan to do that today.”

  “Quinn left Jake something in his will?” Kyra raised her eyebrows as she collected Terrence’s empty glass. “He really did have expectations for us.”

  Terrence cracked a smile, his teeth white against his dark face. “I told you. Quinn had your future all mapped out for you.”

  “What did Quinn leave him, or am I not allowed to ask that?”

  “A few weapons.” Terrence reached into his briefcase and pulled out an envelope. “And this. I do have to place this in Jake’s hand and I don’t know what’s in it, but I have some business at the Northeast Division and I can give it to him there.”

  She eyed the envelope suspiciously. “Ugh, I hope there’s not some sort of care and feeding of Kyra Chase in there.”

  Terrence chuckled as he slipped the envelope in a side pocket of his bag. “It might be. Quinn worried about you.”

  “I know, and all that time I should’ve been worrying about him.” Kyra pressed a fist against her lips to stop the sob that threatened to escape.

  Terrence placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You took good care of Quinn. He told me himself.”

  “Thank you, Terrence. I’ll be in touch about the funeral. The ME is doing an autopsy.”