He waited in the shadows until the person in the vehicle got out of their car and walked to the elevator. Then Mr. Motorcycle followed him to the elevator and presumably took it up to the sixth floor.
I looked at Jack and said, "The assailant went up to the apartment, broke in, and waited for Abigail inside.”
"You think he had a key?" Tabitha asked.
I shrugged. "If not, he knew how to pick a lock.”
The thought mortified Tabitha. "Is that easy to do?"
"If you know how.”
That didn't settle her nerves any.
I asked her to cue up a nice shot of Mr. Motorcycle. I snapped a photo on my phone, then asked her to keep scrubbing through the timeline.
The killer stayed in Abigail’s apartment all the next day and all evening until 3:20 AM.
It was terrifying.
"He had damn near 24 hours with her," Jack said.
Tabitha looked unsettled.
I thanked her, gave her a card, and asked her to send me a download link.
“You got it. I sure hope you catch the son of a bitch who did this.”
“We will do our best.”
We left the leasing office and headed back up to Abigail's apartment. I found Grace on the couch and showed her a picture of the suspect. "Does Noah have a motorcycle?”
3
"Yeah," Grace said.
"You think that could be him?" I asked.
She studied the image, which admittedly wasn't the best. It was a little grainy and dark. "Could be. I can't say for sure.”
I shared a glance with Jack.
"I think we need to have a talk with Noah," he said.
The forensic guys dusted for prints, and Brenda and her crew bagged the body. They transferred the remains to a gurney and wheeled the victim out of the apartment.
Paris got her money shot.
I asked Grace if Abigail's parents still lived in Iowa.
"I think so. It's just her mother. I'm not sure if her dad is even still alive. From what Abigail told me, he left them when she was a child. I don't think she's spoken to him since.”
I talked to the sheriff. He would make a call to the local authorities, and they would do a death notification in person.
I didn't think Mrs. Jordan would be able to help with our investigation, but I figured I might call her once she had time to process the news.
On the way down to the lobby, I dialed Isabella, my handler at Cobra Company. As the head of one of the largest clandestine agencies, she had vast intelligence resources. She could find out just about anything about anyone. But let's just say her methods weren’t always legal.
"I need another favor," I said when she answered.
