Guy stared at her for a second as if she had grown an extra head. Then he turned his face slowly towards the monitor, as if seeking solace in the images. “Christ,” was all he said, his voice shaky and quiet.
“Is there any way you can think of that Gypsy might have been linked to Suzie and Lucy?” Laura asked. “Obviously, the three of them all working in the same industry is a big one, but we're really looking for perhaps a person who would have worked with all three of them, a job they all did, something like that.”
“I don't know,” Guy said. “But one thing that might help you is if you have both of her names to search with.”
“Both of her names?” Laura said. “What do you mean?”
“Well, because she changed her name legally,” Guy said. “Gypsy Sparks. That's not her real name. Or at least, not the one she was born with. It was a stage name.”
Laura turned and looked at Nate, seeing his shocked expression mirroring her own. This all made sense, in a strange way. If it was eight years ago that Gypsy had given up working in the acting industry, then those who had only met her in the time since might not know all the details about it. Her ex-boyfriend, who was probably more interested in his wife than in Gypsy. Her neighbor, who was there for a friendly chat about the day’s work but nothing more in-depth than that. None of them would have known about her name change or the acting career, which explained why it hadn’t come up yet.
And it meant the M.O. of the killer still fit. All acting coaches. All three of them.
“What was her name before this?” Laura asked, thinking they needed to take it down just in case it was useful.
“I’m not sure,” Guy shrugged. “Georgina, I think. I don’t know about her last name.”
“This has been extremely useful, Guy,” Laura said, making a mental note to ask for a check-up on her previous identity. “Thank you. I don’t suppose you have the contact details of Spike Greendale?”
“I do,” Guy said, double clicking something on his screen. Beside him, a small printer whirred to life. “It wasn’t too long ago I did the shots, either, so this should still be accurate, with any luck.”
With any luck, Laura thought. With any luck, they had the killer’s address in their hands.
“Thanks again,” Laura said. “We’d better go.”
She nodded at Guy and turned to leave, heading right for the car. There was no way she was going to risk a delay now, when they could go and arrest the man who had been doing all of this and get him off the streets.
One by one, all the other suspects had fallen away. So many leads, all come to nothing.
This had to be the one.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
When they knocked on the door that Guy had given them, Laura found herself standing slightly behind Nate, as if to hide behind him. It hadn't been her choice. He had instinctively stepped forward, acting as a human shield.
A flash of fear ran through her. What if this was what killed him? What if this man really was the killer, and he was going to come out with a knife in his hand, a gun in his hand, something they couldn't react to quickly enough? What if this was what she had been seeing in that shadow of death all along?
She found herself pushing forward, squeezing her shoulder in beside Nate’s on the narrow step, almost knocking him down in her haste to get in front of him.
He looked at her and opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, probably to ask her what the hell she was doing. But before he could make a single sound, the door in front of them opened, and both of them were on alert in a different direction.
“Hello?” the man at the door said. He was Spike Greendale, that much was clear. Laura recognized him exactly from the headshots that Guy had shown them. And Guy was right - he really d
id look exactly like the pictures.
“Spike Greendale?” Laura said. She held up her badge, tensing herself for the possibility that he was about to run as soon as he saw it. “Special Agent Laura Frost. We'd like to have a word with you, if we can.”
“FBI?” Spike said, tension immediately strumming through his body as well. The atmosphere had changed markedly, all three parties now on edge. Laura felt the muscles in her arm tensing with the instinctual urge to reach for her gun. “Why do you need to talk to me?”
“Have you been watching the news lately, Spike?” Laura asked.
“Not really, Spike said, scratching his own chest. Laura took him in, the adrenaline of fear starting to go away just a little bit when he didn't immediately make a break for it. He was dressed in loose pants and a plain white shirt, almost as if he was still in his sleeping gear. It was lunchtime. Had he been asleep when they knocked? “I’ve been, well, kind of out of it for a few days. Why?”
“Perhaps we'd better discuss this inside,” Laura said. “I think you're going to prefer it if your neighbors don't hear about this.”
Not that they were in a neighborhood where the neighbors were particularly close. In fact, Spike Greendale had a very nice home indeed. What Laura couldn't quite workout yet was how a man who apparently had done just one advertising campaign and wasn't particularly great at acting could live somewhere like this. That was one of the questions he was going to have to ask answer.
“Um,” Greendale said, hesitating. “Do I have to talk to you?”