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The bitter cold wind stole Brook’s breath, but she’d tucked her scarf into her dress coat as a barrier. She didn’t waste time as she quickly walked to the corner before immediately crossing at the intersection. The pedestrian light had given her the right of way, and she wasn’t going to spend one more second outside than was necessary. After a brief stop at her favorite café, she made it to the office building two blocks down in record time.
S&E Investigations was located on the fourteenth floor.
Since the first two floors contained a local bank, there was no real foot traffic this time of morning. While the bank had lobby hours from nine to noon today, the majority of their office space on the floors above would remain vacant until Monday morning.
The first thing she noticed upon entering the offices was the Christmas music drifting down the hallway. She presumed that Sylvie had discovered something, but Brook took her time to hang up her dress coat, change from her winter boots into her favorite pair of black ankle boots, and turn on the space heater to its highest setting.
Much to Brook’s surprise, Sylvie’s office was empty.
“What on earth are you doing here on a Saturday morning?” Brook asked Bit as she caught him playing an air guitar to “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” by Bruce Springsteen. He only ever played the air guitar when he was in a good mood. “You found something, didn’t you?”
Brook had specifically told the team that they didn’t need to come into the office this weekend. They weren’t dealing with a typical case that had an invisible clock that was ticking away in the background. No one was in immediate danger, and they weren’t even certain that there was a serial killer working in the D.C. area.
A lot of background investigations had to be completed before they came to any conclusions, and Brook’s meeting with Millie today would give the investigation a bit more clarity.
“Morning, Boss!” Bit practically launched himself in his chair so that it rolled across the black antistatic mat. He always played music from the sound bar hooked up to the computer at the end of the long table. “I not only found something, but I might have a new theory.”
“A new theory?” Brook inquired with interest.
She’d entered Bit’s domain, noticing right offhand that he’d been busy with the decorations. While she’d known that he’d stapled garland to the ceiling, she hadn’t realized that he’d acquired a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. It was on the back table surrounded by a mound of cotton balls that she assumed were supposed to mimic snow.
She grimaced when she counted four gifts tucked underneath the lower branches.
She hadn’t had to buy anyone gifts for the holidays in too many years to count. Her father’s annual gifts of socks, underwear, and t-shirts didn’t really count in the grand scheme of things. There was a reminder in her calendar on the first of every December to place the same order.
Sylvie had been the one to mention that she’d found the perfect gift for Bit last month. Ever since, Brook had continually put off even contemplating any kind of holiday shopping. Such thoughts raised her stress level, and she was confident that she already had enough on her plate.
“Like I said yesterday, Millie Gwinn’s apartment building only has a security camera in the front lobby.” Bit pulled up a somewhat grainy photograph, and Brook realized it was a still from a video. “Well, I was able to pull several other camera angles from the time in question. See this sedan parked a block away? It’s registered to Brett Kolsby. What if the good ol’ doctor isn’t a serial killer? What if Dr. Kolsby’s son is the guilty party, and Dr. Kolsby was in the throes of some nightmare when he was mumbling those words to Millie Gwinn? I know, I know. It sounds like the plot of one of my sister’s soap operas, but you’ve got to admit that it would make sense.”
Brook stared at the license plate of the sedan in contemplation.
“Is there footage of Brett Kolsby actually entering Millie Gwinn’s apartment building?”
“No.” Bit motioned toward another monitor. He submitted a command on the keyboard, which in turn began to play a short clip from the security camera. “The oldest Kolsby son enters an apartment building across the street at one o’clock in the morning and exits a little before five. He supposedly spent four hours inside, but he could have easily walked out a side entrance, used a steam tunnel or something, and somehow made it around to the back entrance of Millie’s apartment building.”
Brook wasn’t necessarily buying that theory.
“We could be looking at many possibilities here.” Brook stared at the monitor as she gathered her thoughts. “One, Brett Kolsby was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. He could very well have a friend who lives in that particular building. Two, Brett believes that Millie could tarnish his father’s reputation with false accusations. He went to her apartment, believed that she was home but purposefully not answering the door, and then took matters into his own hands. Three, there is something to Millie’s claims regarding Dr. Kolsby, and Brett was purposefully seeking her out to either threaten or kill her to stop her from spreading the truth.”
“All good theories,” Bit said as he didn’t bother to stifle his yawn. He even stretched in his chair with his arms high up in the air. “Do you know if Big T is coming into the office this morning? I was thinking of using his couch to catch some Zs.”
Bit basically had nicknames for everyone, and the moniker Big T belonged to Theo for his muscular build. Sylvie’s nickname was Little T due to her love for tea.
Somehow, Brook just got stuck with Boss.
“I doubt it. Then again, I didn’t think you would still be here after pulling an all-nighter,” Brook pointed out as she continued to stare at the monitor. “Before you do either hole up in Theo’s office or go home for the weekend, would you please print that photo out for me, along with one of Brett Kolsby?”
“Sure thing, Boss.”
“Go home, Bit,” Brook recommended, giving him a pat of encouragement on his shoulder. “Great work, as usual.”
Brook retreated and walked back to her office where her large caramel macchiato was still waiting for her on the desk. It was the first thing that she picked up before taking a seat. The rich, sweet flavor was most welcome. She sighed in appreciation before reaching for the remote control on her desk.
Before too long, she had settled into her regular routine.
Thankfully, a phone call thirty minutes later revealed that her father had been taken back to the nursing home with no broken bones.
A chime that she’d set on her tablet to alert her to any changes to the files of their investigations faintly rang out an hour later as she was in the middle of perusing Dr. Kolsby’s background check. Nothing in it suggested the psyche of a serial killer.
