[Nine Nine Interrogation Room]
Mark sat slouched in the metal chair, wrists cuffed, eyes blank. Amy and Boyle picked him up from the hotel. Then Amy searched his locker and found some more evidence. She ran it through the forensic and got a positive hit.
Well, Mark looked too calm for someone who committed a crime like that. It was as if he was sure that the cops wouldn't find any evidence against him. Heck, he even refused a lawyer.
On the other side of the one-way mirror, Amy stood with Boyle, Terry, and now Ray, who had just arrived holding a file.
"Here's what I found," Ray said, handing the file to Amy.
Amy opened it, scanning the pages quickly. Boyle leaned closer, reading over her shoulder. Terry crossed his arms, his jaw tightening as the details came out.
"Mark Winchester isn't his real name," Amy said. "His real name is Liam Isac. Thirty-nine years old. First record at sixteen. Assaulted a teacher. Juvenile detention for a year."
She turned the page. "Then, at age twenty, he did five years in prison for stalking and illegal recording at a girls' hostel. Sold the footage online. Later charges were extended when more material was found. Served another five years at Malibu Jail."
Boyle whistled under his breath. "So he's been doing this since high school."
"Yeah," Amy said, closing the file with a thud. "And after he got out, he came to New York nine years ago. No activity since. Not until now."
Terry's eyes stayed fixed on Liam through the glass. "Or maybe he's been busy the whole time. Collecting, waiting, and building up a stash big enough to cash out once and disappear."
Boyle nodded grimly. "That's possible. Celebrities would pay millions just to keep that kind of thing buried."
Amy stared through the glass again, her voice low. "He's not just some voyeur. He's a predator. And he's been doing this for years."
Ray clenched his fists. "That's a human trash heap right there."
Amy looked at him. "Ray, I need you to head to his apartment. We already have the search warrant. Look for anything — hard drives, memory cards, anything he might've stored those videos or photos on. He's been careful, but you are you."
Ray nodded once. "Leave it to me." He left.
Amy adjusted her blazer, then looked at Terry and Boyle. "Let's see what he has to say for himself."
Terry's arms stayed crossed. "You sure you don't want me in there with you?"
Amy shook her head. "No. If he's the kind of manipulator his record says he is, he'll respond better to control and composure. He's expecting anger. He won't get that from me."
Boyle smirked faintly. "Classic Santiago strategy. Precision interrogation."
Amy took a breath, opened the door, and stepped inside.
Liam looked up slowly, a smirk curling on his lips as Amy sat down across from him.
"Detective Santiago," he said. "I've heard about you."
Amy folded her hands on the table, calm and steady. "You've been busy, Mr. Isac. Or should I call you Mark Winchester?"
Liam leaned back in his chair, his cuffed wrists resting casually on the metal table. "Mark's fine. It has a nicer ring to it, don't you think?"
"Funny," Amy said evenly. "You changed your name after prison. New city, new job, new identity. Worked at a hotel where celebrities come and go. Perfect place to start again, right?"
Liam's lips twitched into a faint smile. "You make it sound like a plan."
Amy opened the file in front of her and slid a couple of photos across the table. "That's you at GamerZex. Same ring, same build, same shoes, and a fake limp. Surprisingly, your manager also has a limp, doesn't he? Funny thing, we almost thought it was him."
He glanced at it without interest. "Since when is it a crime to walk into a cyber cafe, Detective? Or to have a bad knee?"
Amy's voice stayed calm. "It's not. But it is a crime to email stolen photos of a woman taken from hidden cameras that were planted in her hotel room. And the same person who accessed that email account was sitting at that computer in GamerZex around six a.m."
Liam tilted his head. "You sure it was me?"
Amy's expression didn't change. "Positive. We traced the keycard logs from the hotel. You entered Miss Stone's room during your shift when she went out to dinner after her arrival. The cameras were placed within an hour after that. We also found traces of the same brand of micro lens adhesive on your maintenance toolkit."
He looked at her with a kind of lazy amusement. "That proves I fixed things. I am maintenance."
Boyle, sitting in the corner with a notepad, muttered under his breath, "Yeah, fixed privacy, maybe."
Amy kept her tone even. "You used your job to access private spaces. You've done it before. You got caught before. This time, you thought you'd be smarter."
Liam's smirk widened. "I learned from the best, Detective. The justice system. You know how many holes there are in it? You arrest, they confess, you feel good about yourself, and then what? They walk out again. Everyone does."
Amy looked at him for a long moment. "You don't seem worried."
"Should I be?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. "You have circumstantial evidence, no direct footage of me placing anything, and an entire staff list with access to that suite. If I were you, I'd keep digging. Because unless you find something that ties me to those cameras, I'll be out by tomorrow morning."
Amy didn't flinch. "You're awfully confident for someone who left a trail as wide as Broadway."
He chuckled softly. "Confidence is just experience with better posture."
Amy stared at him, her expression unreadable. "You enjoy this, don't you? Watching people. Controlling what they don't know you've seen."
Liam's smirk faded a little. "Everyone watches someone, Detective. The only difference is that I don't pretend otherwise."
Amy stood up slowly. "We'll see how philosophical you feel after we search your apartment."
"Careful, Detective. If you dig too deep, you might find things you don't want to see."
Amy paused for half a second, then turned her head just enough to meet his gaze. "That's my job."
She walked out, closing the door behind her, and sighed.
Boyle looked up from his notes. "He's cold."
Amy nodded. "And he's hiding something. We just need Ray to find it."
Terry said, "Let's hope he does. Because that guy knows exactly how close he is to walking free."
...
[Liam's Apartment – 5th Floor]
The door creaked open as Ray stepped inside. His flashlight swept across the room. He found the switch and turned the lights on, and put his flashlight back. The apartment was spotless. Too spotless. Not a speck of dust on the counters, no clothes hanging out, no dishes in the sink. It was sterile, like a display unit rather than a home.
He put on his gloves and began searching.
There were empty drawers, and closets filled with some clothes. But there were no photographs or personal items.
Ray crouched near the floor, running his gloved fingers along the tiles. "No loose panels. No creaking boards. The guy had wiped the place clean." But experience told Ray that predators like Liam never really erased everything. They always left something behind, either out of arrogance or habit. Or, sometimes, like in this case... Liam was too careful and, in the process, messed up by keeping the place too clean and arranged.
He checked under the bed, behind the mirror, and even inside the smoke detector. Nothing.
Then he walked to the window and opened it.
It overlooked the narrow alley between two buildings. From there, he could see the shadow of the neighboring apartment block pressing close, only a few feet away. He rested his hand on the windowsill. Something felt off.
There was a thin scrape mark running along the ledge. It looked old. "Would you look at that?" Ray leaned closer, squinting. The mark stretched along the ledge, disappearing around the corner. He smiled. "Amateur kid. You should have fixed this from time to time. But I guess, you were too busy snapping photos like a creep."
He climbed out with ease and stood on the narrow ledge. The cold air hit his face as he balanced himself, one hand on the frame. Below him, the alley looked like a vertical drop into shadows.
Ray followed the scrape, inching along the ledge. It curved toward the next window, and that was when he saw it: another set of faint scrapes, as if someone had crawled back and forth multiple times.
He stopped at the corner, crouching slightly. The trail led upward toward a metal drainpipe running along the wall. The paint was chipped where something or someone had gripped it repeatedly.
Ray grabbed the pipe and started climbing. Every movement was controlled and steady. He'd done harder climbs in worse places.
Halfway up, he saw more scuff marks. Someone had definitely been using this route. He kept going until he reached the next window where the marks ended. It was locked. But the lock wasn't a standard latch. It was a heavy, chrome-plated padlock fitted outside the frame. He stared at it for a moment, his brows furrowing.
"Who locks a window from the outside?" he murmured.
'This won't be legal unless I can use Exigent Circumstances. Well, whatever... I'll ask mom. This fucker is going down today.' He quickly texted a private number, and within 3 minutes, he got a search warrant. 'Nice. Thanks mom.'
Ray pulled a small toolkit from his jacket pocket and flipped it open one-handed. Within seconds, he had a tension wrench and pick in place. A few deft twists later, the lock clicked open.
He swung the window inward and climbed inside.
The air inside the room was cooler, heavier. The blinds were drawn tight. As his eyes adjusted, he realized he was no longer in Liam's apartment. It was the next unit over.
And unlike the first, this one wasn't empty.
Rows of black storage cases lined the far wall. A desk sat near the center, covered with multiple hard drives, tangled cables, and a PC.
Ray nodded at the sight, "Bingo!"
He crossed the room, careful not to disturb anything, and pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. He powered the PC on. Then did a quick search. He found folder names labeled by hotel names, dates, and numbers. Each one opened to reveal thumbnails—images and videos—dozens of them.
He felt his jaw tighten. Every folder represented a victim. Years of hidden footage.
Ray stepped back and called Amy. "Amy, it's Ray. I've got something."
Amy's voice came through, tense. "Tell me you found what I think you found. And I got a new warrant... Did you do that?"
"Yep! Anyway. Found storage drives, full setup, everything. Looks like he's been doing this for years. And get this—he had the whole operation hidden in a different apartment. He climbs out of his window and walks along the ledges and climbs the pipes, then again ledges to get to his second room. He probably did it at night. Haaa... this bastard. My guess is he rented both units with different names."
Amy replied, "We'll get a team there now. Hold position."
Ray scanned the room again, eyes catching on a small wall vent above the desk. He pulled a flashlight and peered inside. Tiny red lights glinted back at him. Dozens of miniature cameras, all labeled and numbered, each with a note attached: Checked, working, next job.
He exhaled through his nose, slow and steady. "You're done, Liam."
---
[POWERSTONES AND REVIEWS PLS]
Support link: www.patr eon.com/UnknownMaster
[24 advance chs] [No double billing.]
---