The Surf Leash Strangler

Chapter 3

Entering the interview room, Veronica took note of Madison sitting in her chair. The room consisted of a round table that had four chairs placed evenly around it. Madison had picked the one closest to the door, so her back faced them as they entered. Madison was leaning against the table, tapping her nails impatiently on the surface. She let out a small huff but didn't turn around as she spoke. "I didn't realise I would have to wait for so long."

In most cases, an impatient loved one – in this case, someone wanting to leave as soon as possible – would be concerning. Most people were distraught, desperate or at least willing to do whatever they could to help. The tapping of her nails on the table told Veronica that one, she was anxious to be in such a place, and two, she wasn't really concerned about anything other than herself. That type of behaviour just made people look guilty, or at least told them they had something to hide.

Walsh walked around the table and took a seat. She offered Madison a smile and placed her notebook down on the table. She said, "Miss Sinclair, thank you for coming down to speak with us today. I apologise if we have kept you waiting."

Madison made a small huffing sound and smacked her lips in disgust. "Whatever. Why am I here?"

Veronica moved to walk around the table and take the seat beside Walsh. Forcing a smile on her face, Veronica watched as Madison turned to look at her. She found it enjoyable as Madison's annoyed face twisted into shock and somewhat horror.

"Special Agent Mars and I just wanted to go through with you the last time you saw Shelly Pomroy," said Walsh.

Madison glanced back at Walsh before turning her eyes on Veronica. She sneered and asked, "How did someone like you end up working in the FBI?"

Veronica said, "People like me have actual goals in life. More so than finding a rich sugar daddy to sponge off."

Madison huffed. "Why, you little—"

"Miss Sinclair, can you please walk us through your night with Shelly? What time did you arrive at the club?" Walsh interrupted and raised her eyebrows.

Veronica wanted to laugh as Madison seemed to tremble in her chair. It seemed that she still wanted to act like a teenager and believed that her petty insults were going to get under Veronica's skin.

"Miss Sinclair?" Walsh pressed.

Madison crossed her arms over her chest and said, "We got to '09er' at nine. We just had dinner with the girls and decided we wanted to get dancing. Shelly and I went to the bar to get the first round while the other girls went to find a table."

"You stated on the night she disappeared that she was dancing with someone?" asked Walsh.

"Yeah. Said his name was Ryan. Shelly liked the look of him – who wouldn't."

"So he was handsome?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Charming, rich. A catch, really. It's a shame he seemed so interested in Shelly." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and leant back in her chair.

Veronica found that she wasn't shocked by Madison's comment. Even back in high school, Madison would have pushed her best friend – hell, even her own mother – in front of a car if it meant she could have anything she wanted. It made no difference to Madison that the guy fawning over Shelly could have murdered her. No, what mattered was who was the centre of attention.

"At what point throughout the night did you first notice Ryan?" asked Walsh.

Madison sighed. "He was there when we arrived, standing in the corner." She glanced down at her nails. "He approached Shelly at the bar when she went back for the second round."

"What made you think he was rich?" asked Veronica.

Madison frowned at Veronica, her eyebrow twitching. She said, "He was wearing a Rolex for one; he was also talking about business with Dick. Plus, undesirables don't get into the '09er'."

"It seemed that one got past your velvet rope," said Veronica.

Madison's frown only deepened.

Veronica was glad once they were done with Madison. She was glad to get away from her annoying voice and the stench of her perfume. Walsh elected to escort Madison to the elevator, thanking her for her time. Walsh met Veronica by the door to the conference room and said, "Nice woman."

Veronica smirked. "Yeah, she's a real charmer."

They turned and walked into the conference room where Pierce was buried in documents. For the time they were gone, it seemed that Pierce had covered almost the whole conference table in paper. All of them were neatly laid out, but Veronica couldn't really tell what Pierce was up to.

"How'd it go?" asked Pierce.

Veronica shrugged. "Oh, it was so much fun." She gave him a big grin and pulled out a chair.

Walsh said, "She must have been a blast to go to high school with?"

Veronica snorted out a laugh. "Oh yeah! She was the bomb."

Walsh laughed. "At least she wasn't completely useless. Seems we should talk to Mr Casablancas."

Veronica nodded. "If they did talk business, as she said, he may have gotten more details."

"Would the unsub really share that kind of information?" asked Walsh.

"Still don't know enough about him to say. He could be that idiotic, or his original intention was to do business, but he found another woman who fit his type and couldn't help himself. There may also be the possibility that the guy from the club isn't the unsub." Veronica reached for the tapes that they had brought in earlier – the ones from the restaurant. "I say we watch some movies, see if we can get anything. Maybe if we can get a better description, we can see if speaking with Dick—Mr Casablancas will be any good."

If she could avoid any other old high school enemies, she would. Veronica didn't want to make this a social call, but she had a feeling that walking down memory lane wasn't going to be as easy to avoid as possible.

The next few hours consisted of popcorn and watching security footage. Veronica made herself comfortable, her feet kicked up on a chair as she watched the footage role at an increased speed. Walsh, having other cases that were waiting for some attention, left Veronica to it. Pierce had sorted through a lot of the victim's information and seemed to be at the point where he was updating what he had previously laid out.

Finishing another tape that showed nothing but a few random cars, a guy crashing his bicycle – which had made Veronica laugh, pause and show Pierce – and a heavy makeout against a palm tree, Veronica frowned at the other six. There had been no labelling done by the manager, and she could only hope that she would find something that would give the dates away. So far, she had taken note of a few cars parking for a short period of time at Dog Beach at strange hours, but no one had done anything suspicious.

Turning off the TV that had been wheeled in for her to use, Veronica sat up and turned to Pierce. She asked, "How's it going?"

Pierce nodded but didn't turn around. He was writing a note over Shelly Pomroy. "Every victim after victim number three had a tattoo."

"So it's another detail he likes about them," said Veronica.

Pierce turned. "Yeah, but not just tattoos. They all had at least one flower tattoo on their arm. Rebecca Coleman had a rose, Delilah Hamilton had a carnation, Stephanie Porter had a rose, Jane Michaels had a Lillie, Ebony Smith had an orchid, and Shelly Pomroy a rose."

Veronica crossed her arms on the table. "Any other details that are lining up about them?"

Pierce wiggled his hand in a 'so-so' gesture. "I think so, but not certain. I called Jimmy and asked him if he could search to see if these women had anything in common regarding their choice of lifestyle. I thought there might also be something more than physical appearance attracting this guy."

Veronica smiled. "Great idea."

Jimmy was their tech guy. He handled all the research and online searching so they could spend more time in the field. He was great with people but better with computers.

Pierce returned the smile, his chest seeming to puff with pride slightly. "Thanks."

"Now, how about we get some food because I am starving. I could also use a shower."

A hotel room had been booked for each of them right on the beach. It was a few blocks away from the field office, and downstairs was an Italian restaurant they could dine at. Veronica and Pierce brought the work with them and spent the time while they waited for their food, throwing thoughts back and forth. When the food did arrive, they put work aside and enjoyed their food before agreeing to meet back at the office at eight.

Veronica went up to her room and jumped straight into the shower. She was ready for a good night's sleep but not before having ice cream sent up so she could indulge while she flipped through the case files some more. Everyone had their nightly routines; this was Veronica's. Ice cream, her pj's and her work.

As she twisted her hair up into a bun, Veronica's phone buzzed on the bed. She flipped it over and was pleasantly surprised to see a message from Wallace.

WF: Pirate Pride baby!

Veronica snorted out a laugh. What was he going on about?

VM: Have you been drinking? And on a school night too!

She dropped the phone back down on the bed and reached for the case files. While she had chosen the life of an FBI agent, Wallace had ended up as a High School teacher. It had surprised her to learn that her BFF had ended up back at their old alma mater teaching physics. She got herself comfortable as another message came through.

WF: No, mum, I haven't been drinking. I did, however, get my ten-year reunion invitation, BABY!

Veronica rolled her eyes. Of course, Wallace was excited about their ten-year reunion. It had been an event that she had marked down as not going since before they finished high school.

VM: Ah yes, the event that every adult dreads. The evening where you decide to spend a few hours mingling with those who you hated for four years just so you can attempt to rub your life in their faces.

VM: I'll pass.

There was no way that she would spend an evening with all those people. Seeing Madison Sinclair just once was more than enough to last a lifetime. And she was probably going to have to speak with even more 09ers before the case was solved. At least in a professional capacity, she could keep it civil, or at least try to.

WF: Come on, V. Open bar. And you can flash your badge at those undesirables and scare them away.

Veronica shook her head and sighed. It wasn't going to be a subject that Wallace would drop. His experience had been very different from hers; he was, after all, the star basketball player. There is no doubt a few people that he'd want to catch up with after ten years. For Veronica, the only people she wanted to see were Wallace and Mac.

WF: Besides, I don't remember the last time I saw you. What's it been? Almost a year and a half? Come on, Superfly.

Smiling at the high school nickname Wallace had graciously dubbed her, she knew he was right. It had been a long time since she had seen any of them. She also knew they would probably be hurt if they found out she was in San Diego and hadn't stopped by to see them.

VM: How about I give you something better?

VM: Lunch? Tomorrow?

Veronica could spare an hour or two to drive down to Neptune High and have lunch with him.

WF: Wait, you're in Neptune? Since when?

VM: I'm in San Diego for a case; I arrived ten hours ago.

VM: So, lunch?

WF: You're on. I have a break at 1.

VM: Great, let me know what you're craving.

It was probably the moment Veronica should have also messaged her father and told her that she was in town. He would want to have dinner, catch up. There would be questions she didn't want to answer, questions that Keith Mars had asked her about the last time they had seen one another but answers that Veronica refused to provide. Instead of messaging her father, Veronica plugged in her phone and dug into her ice cream.

Walsh picked Veronica up from her hotel the next morning with coffee and a breakfast muffin. She had already spoken to Dick Casablancas, and he was expecting them at his beach house before ten. So instead of meeting at the office, Veronica had Walsh pick her up at eight and drive them straight to Neptune. She spent the ride discussing details of the case with Walsh, going over theories and possibilities that she had discussed with Pierce. Walsh seemed unsure about what to do next and was grateful that Veronica seemed to have something.

It was clear from the crime scenes that the unsub was careful. Other than the traces of semen found on the victims, there were no other traces of anything. No hairs, fibres, dirt, blood, nothing. He was careful. It could be frustrating to deal with an unsub that didn't leave anything behind. They planned and executed everything carefully. It would be very difficult to catch him unless they could throw him off and make his perfect plan fall apart.

Dick Casablancas' house was smaller than Veronica expected. Like so many other 09ers that she had known, Dick had always believed bigger was better. The beach house before them was definitely worth a few million, especially considering its placement directly on a private beach; it was just a little smaller than the ridiculous mansion he had grown up in.

Parking on the road out the front, Veronica noted two cars parked out the front.

"The black SUV is the card registered to Mr Casablancas," said Walsh. And Veronica couldn't doubt it, considering the plate read: D1CKJR. The other car was a dark blue BMW. The generic plate giving nothing away. Walsh added, "According to our details, he lives alone."

Veronica sighed. "He may live alone, but I highly doubt he spends much time alone."

Approaching the front door, Veronica took a moment to prepare herself for the possible sight that Dick would be naked and in the middle of some sort of debauchery before she knocked and took a step back. Walsh was looking around, her eyebrows raised, and her mouth had fallen open a little in shock. Veronica wanted to laugh because it was ridiculous sometimes how different some people's lives were. A shadow passed the curtains surrounding the door before it opened.

The look of surprise on Dick's face wasn't what Veronica had expected. He looked almost excited. "Holy shit, Ronnie! Look at you, girl."

Veronica was a little stunned. "Hi, Dick."

"Mr Casablancas." Walsh moved forward. "I'm Special Agent Walsh from the FBI; we spoke earlier. Special Agent Mars and I are here to talk about Shelly Pomroy."

Dick's eyes widened. "Oh shit. Ronnie, you in the FBI? I didn't think that was legit."

Veronica gave him a strained smile. "Yeah, well. It's legit. Otherwise, I'm carrying this badge and gun for nothing."

Dick looked impressed. "You were scary with a taser. Remind me not to piss you off." He took and step back and held out his arm. "Come on in."

Veronica and Walsh followed Dick into his home and down the hall. The main living area was opened onto a big deck that stepped off onto the sand. The morning sun was flooding in, and the sight of the waves crashing was amazing. Veronica had always thought her view of Washington was nice from her apartment, but this was something she wouldn't mind experiencing every morning.

"Can I get you guys anything to drink?" asked Dick. "I make a mean latte." He waved a cup in the air.

"No, thank you," said Walsh.

Veronica didn't see why she should say no. "Sure, I'll have one. Just skip the alcohol."

Dick smirked and winked. "Right, you're on the clock." He aimed his fingers like a gun and pointed at her before starting to grind the beans. "So, what did you guys want to know about Shelly? I thought I'd covered everything when I spoke to the detective when I found her."

Veronica glanced at Walsh, who nodded an encouragement for her to go for it. "Wanted to ask about a few details about the night she disappeared."

Dick cringed. "Right. Things are a little fuzzy."

"I wouldn't expect anything else from you, Dick."

He shrugged.

"Do you remember the guy Shelly was seen with?" she asked.

Dick rocked his head side to side. "Kind of. He had brown hair. Name was Ryan, I think. He kept talking about my dad and his real estate fraud." He picked up a jug and poured milk into it. "Kind of a buzz kill really, I mean, who wants to talk about that asshole."

"Anything about him stand out as strange or unique?"

"Other than he kept stoking Shelly's wrist all night, no."

"Her wrist?"

"Yeah. Shelly has – had a rose on her wrist. Madison said she got it done when her grandmother died. The guy pointed it out when he first walked up to her. The bits I remember, he was always looking at it and rubbing his thumb across it. I think Shelly was probably too drunk to notice." Dick poured the milk in a cup before walking over and holding it out to Veronica. She took it and smirked at the little design he had put on the top.

"Have you ever seen the guy before?" asked Walsh.

Dick turned to her. "Possibly, but I see a lot of people there."

Veronica took a sip of the latte and was surprised that it was rather good. Not that she planned on complimenting him, though. Focusing back on the questions, she asked, "What about the other victims? Have you seen any of them before?"

Dick shrugged. "I don't really know what they look like. Honestly, until I found Shelly, I wasn't really aware; so many ladies had died."

Veronica nodded. There was the old Dick, the one she knew. Too wrapped up in his own world to notice what was going on around him.

"I'm glad your on the case, Ronnie. You were always so good at solving cases when we were in school. I can only imagine how badass you are now." Dick carried his own coffee over to the dining table and took a seat.

"Would you be willing to have a look at their photos, see if you remember any of them?" Walsh asked.

He nodded. "Sure. I'll be at the club tonight by six if you want to bring them down."

The idea of going to the 09er didn't sound fun, but it seemed that there were many things Veronica was going to have to do while she was here.

"That will be fine," said Walsh.

"Great, I'll put you on the list." Dick smiled widely.

Veronica finished her coffee and was about to suggest they leave when something caught Dick's attention. He looked past her, out to the beach, and he lifted his hand and said, "Dude, you left without me."

Turning around, Veronica froze. Walking towards her, surfboard under one arm, wetsuit hanging down around his waist, was the one person – out of everyone – she really hadn't wanted to see. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but when she locked eyes with Logan, she found herself struggling to breathe.

I would love to hear what you think. Even if it's as simple as a 'can't wait', all feedback is appreciated.

See you soon with the next chapter.