Hard Press'd

by Linda Rae Blair

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Rachel left the Lieutenant’s office and found Press glowering at her from across the room where he was leaning against the wall.

  As they were escorted to Lieutenant Commander Olivette’s office, Rachel whispered, “I’m so sorry, Press. I promise to explain this to you later.”

  “Well, I can’t say you didn’t warn me in advance,” he admitted. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t sting to be thrown out like that.”

  “I promise to make it up to you,” she said, as she reached for his hand and squeezed it briefly.

  “You bet you will,” he said, grinning as they kept walking behind their escort.

  32

  Norfolk Naval Station

  Day 6

  10:35 AM

  Lieutenant Commander Olivette was an older version of his son, with an easy twenty-five years he had on his son. Press also noticed the elder Olivette’s eyes were kinder, the smile was easier, and the voice—even with its military bearing—had a friendlier tone.

  “Please, have a seat.”

  Once the pleasantries were over, Rachel took on the interview. “Sir, we’re here about your son, David.”

  “David?” The eyes became more wary. “Why would the FBI and VBPD be interested in my son?”

  “A young woman your son was involved with has been murdered, sir. We’re investigating his possible involvement in her death,” Rachel explained.

  “David…involved in a murder? That’s impossible.”

  “He’s lying to us, sir. That never bodes well in a murder investigation,” Press added.

  “Lying to you? About what?”

  “He was dating Macy Roberts, sir. He has tried to tell us that they broke off their relationship last fall, but he attended the Admiral’s Ball with her, and we have proof that he was still seeing her after that. However, David denies it.” Press planted the lie and waited for Rachel to pick up the questioning.

  “Why do you think that David has been sabotaging his career, sir?” she asked.

  “What…sabotaging?” Olivette looked stunned. “I don’t understand.”

  Press explained. “Sir, we understand that this is your son we’re talking about, and we know this must be difficult for you. However, whatever is going on with David…well, it’s about to come out. It would be best if the information came from David, but it doesn’t look like that is going to happen. If you know anything that might help…well, you could make things much easier on him.”

  The officer was up and pacing behind his desk. “All I know is that David has been seeing someone. I don’t know her name. He’s a very private person.”

  So was Macy. What were they hiding…what was Rachel hiding? Press wondered.

  “I don’t know why David seems so determined to remain here in Norfolk. I don’t believe it’s because of a romantic relationship. That just doesn’t sound like David.” He sat down in his chair and looked over at the visitors. “I just don’t know what you are looking for, but I assure you that my son simply could not be involved in murder.”

  “What is it that you’ve been keeping out of his records, sir?” Rachel asked suddenly.

  “What…?” Olivette was stunned once again.

  “You heard me, sir. What is it that you are so carefully keeping out of your son’s records?”

  Olivette had turned green, then pale. “You have to understand. David was such a lonely kid. He’s a good boy, really. He just never had a mother’s influence to…” he stopped, realized he was making excuses…again. “Dear, God. What has he gotten himself involved in?” His head was in his hands.

  “My son has had…some issues…over the years. He has a difficult time dealing with women, his temper is almost completely buried and then…suddenly, he…he erupts. He put a young woman in the hospital during his junior year in high school. He assaulted another about two years ago. I managed to buy off any charges or civil suits being filed. It’s cost me nearly everything I have.”

  So, David Olivette had drained his father dry. Now the cover-up would stop. Olivette’s avenue of escape was becoming a dead-end alley with the FBI and Preston Andrews waiting to spring the trap.

  “Sir, we’re asking that you keep our investigation to yourself for now. JAG is involved, and I’m sure they will have questions for you. However, your son must not be made aware that we are looking at him—for now.”

  “You expect me to keep this from him?”

  “Yes, sir. As an officer—not as a father, you under the Admiral’s orders to keep this to yourself. We understand that this is a difficult situation to be in, but you have a duty to cooperate with JAG, sir. If we need the request to come from Admiral Poindexter directly…” Rachel reminded him.

  “I’ll do my duty, Agent Wilding. I always have.”

  “Thank you, sir. We appreciate what a difficult position we’re putting you in.” Standing, she signaled to Press that it was time to leave the Lieutenant Commander alone. They turned and left his office.

  * * *

  The next stop was Dr. Jacobson. The psychologist was no more cooperative than either of them had expected. Olivette’s records were private and confidential. He gave no indication that he knew of anything in Olivette’s past that would lead him to believe that he would be capable of murder.

  While neither Press nor Rachel could be certain just how much Dr. Jacobson actually knew, Press didn’t agree with his assessment. Rachel was pondering her own ideas of what David Olivette was capable of doing.

  33

  Glorious Savior Memorial Gardens

  Virginia Beach

  Day 7

  10:00 AM

  Well aware that killers often showed up at the funerals of their victims, Press, Rachel and Trace attended the funeral of Macy Roberts. Several undercovers attended, as well as a van disguised as a cemetery maintenance vehicle. Inside, technicians took videos of the crowd from the road.

  The funeral brought out Virginia Society’s new money more than its old did. Old money didn’t have much use for blowhards like George Roberts. It was the Country Club crowd that filled the limos that trailed into the cemetery—those who thought that by showing up they might gain some advantage in business affairs with George Roberts.

  The detectives or FBI agents present didn’t miss the irony. They knew that there was a certain amount of guilt-by-association in play right now. Press marveled at the scene. Oh, how differently those clingers-on might react, if they just knew how closely the authorities were looking at all of George’s associates right now.

  Olivette’s absence was due to the Admiral’s agreement to keep him on base until further notice—not that they had really expected the narcissistic Olivette to show any respect for Macy anyway.

  They found it strange that George Roberts didn’t show up. As they mingled in the crowd, they each overheard people whispering their opinions about hearing that George was out of the country on urgent business and was greatly upset about missing the funeral.

  Yeah, sure! Press thought to himself. What kind of man misses his niece’s funeral—for any reason? Press was going to see to it that George Roberts rotted in a very private place in hell, if it was the last thing he ever did.

  They took turns watching Moira Roberts as she circulated after the service, then returned to her limo—the perfect picture of the mourning aunt.

  34

  Virginia Beach

  Day 7

  4:45 PM

  Back at HQ, they updated the investigation files with the information gathered during the day. As evening approached, Rachel turned to Press.

  “Bob’s coming in tonight,” she said.

  “Really? Good. Maybe he has something we can use.”

  “Press…we need to talk about something before he gets here.”

  Damn. There was that phrase again, he thought. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to have to lie to my co-worker, and I’m not happy about it. He wanted to book a room at the same hotel where I�
�m staying.”

  “Oops.”

  “Yes! My response, exactly!” She sighed. “We both know that I shouldn’t be staying where I am. It’s less than professional of me, I know.” She looked at Press and saw him grinning at her. “Feeling somewhat smug, are we?”

  “Oh, maybe just a wee bit smug,” he winked. Then he answered her more seriously. “Rachel, if you think you need to leave the house, I’ll understand. Mind you, I won’t like it…but I’ll understand. I think you and I have something really special, and I’d like to take the time to find out where it’s going. But, you have to do what is right for you.”

  “I would miss Jones! And Lizzie’s cooking is beyond excellent.”

  “Oh, really?” One black brow rose just slightly.

  “And then, well there is my handsome landlord,” she smiled back at him.

  “I don’t think landlord really fits, do you? Have I charged you any rent?”

  “No. No, you haven’t.”

  “So, what are you going to tell Bob?”

  “Hell’s bells. I’ll think of something!” she pouted.

  Just as Press was about to reach for her, the door opened and in walked Bob.

  “Bob,” they said in unison.

  “Hey, team! How goes it?”

  “Sit down, and we’ll catch you up on our visit to Norfolk,” Press offered.

  “Bob, I need to explain something to you,” Rachel began.

  “Before you do…I’ve checked into the Sheraton as you suggested. I supposed you are staying with that sorority sister you talk about so often—the one that lives near the beach? Don’t blame you one little bit. Anyway, as long as we’re in touch by cell, there’s no need for us to stay at the same place. I can reach you any time…right?” Bob asked.

  “Right,” Rachel blushed slightly.

  Press was all the more fond of the fourth—and usually absent—member of their little team.

  35

  Virginia Beach

  Day 8

  8:30 AM

  Sherry had put everything away in her new apartment. All the boxes were unpacked at last. She had found a couple of Jones’s toys that he had undoubtedly ‘packed’ in one of the boxes when her back was turned. Smiling as she held the fuzzy, well-loved frog and Frisbee with more holes than a sieve, she decided to take them to Press.

  As she pulled up in front of HQ, Sherry saw Press and a beautiful auburn-haired woman getting out of a car. She watched for a few seconds, and that’s all it took—she knew. She wondered if Press did.

  Climbing out of the car, she grabbed the bag containing Jones’s precious possessions and headed toward the couple.

  “Press!” she raised her voice slightly to catch him before he went into the building.

  Press turned and smiled at her, surprise showing on his face. “Sherry, how are you?” He bent down to kiss her cheek in greeting.

  “I’m great. How are you?”

  “Good. Good! Oh,” he said, suddenly realizing that Sherry and Rachel were exchanging curious and awkward glances. “Sorry, ladies! Sherry, this is FBI Special Agent Rachel Wilding. Rachel, this is Sherry Lowell. Sherry teaches Art Appreciation at the University.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Agent Wilding. What brings you to Virginia Beach?” Sherry asked.

  “A case. I’m working with the VBPD on a recent murder.”

  “Oh, the Roberts case?”

  “Yes.” Rachel looked at Press wondering what he had told Sherry.

  “I read about it. I know Press knew her years ago. It’s so sad.” She paused, looking somewhat awkward. “Well, I found these things in one of the packing boxes and thought I’d better get them to you. I know how fond their owner is of them!”

  He peeked into the bag and laughed. “That’s where they were!”

  Sherry laughed. “Yes, I think he must have ‘packed’ them when my back was turned.”

  “Thanks for bringing them, Sherry. Jones will be very happy to get them back.”

  “Yes, I’m sure! I don’t think he realized the boxes would be gone for good.” Oh, now she really felt awkward. She hadn’t meant that to come out of her mouth. “I’d better go. I have a class in half an hour.”

  Turning to Rachel, she said, “Nice to meet you, Agent Wilding.”

  “Nice you meet you, Ms. Lowell.”

  Press bent down and kissed Sherry’s cheek in farewell. “Be happy,” he whispered in her ear.

  “You, too!” she whispered back. Sherry turned and quickly walked back to her car.

  * * *

  “That was awkward,” Rachel said. “I like her.”

  “Yeah, so do I,” Press responded. He was glad he’d told her about Sherry, so that she understood that he loved her, but wasn’t in love with her. No, he was pretty sure he knew the real difference, now that he’d met Rachel.

  * * *

  Across the street, a silent watcher took in the scene. It was obvious that the girl was someone Detective Andrews knew well—perhaps very well. Interesting.

  36

  VBPD Headquarters

  Day 9

  1:30 PM

  Two days were spent following what few other meager leads they had. As they sat side-by-side, staring at the murder board now filled with photos of Macy, David Olivette, Moira and George Roberts and twelve of the other missing girls, Press and Rachel both sighed. Written notations of how the people and circumstances linked defined the lines drawn from one photo to another.

  They both turned their heads toward the door where a knock on the doorjamb drew their attention. “Lieutenant Wallace, come in, please,” Rachel said when he hesitated in the doorway.

  “Uh,” Wallace was hesitating in a very uncharacteristic way. “Press, we just received a Missing Person’s Report that…well….”

  Press stood up. “What’s the matter, Lieu?”

  “It’s Sherry Lowell, Press.”

  Wallace and Rachel both heard the harsh intake of Press’s breath. Wallace stepped toward Press and urged him back down into his chair.

  He explained the report to Press and Rachel and handed each of them a copy. “She was due to teach a class at 1:00 PM, but she never reported to work.”

  It seemed that Press and Rachel had been the last two people to see her. There was no apparent sign of violence at her apartment. She was just…gone.

  * * *

  Sherry had never been this frightened in her entire life. She didn’t understand what this man wanted from her. He hadn’t said a word to her since she woke up. Moreover, it was strange—she had been carrying a box from the car into her new apartment and then…then she was waking up in the trunk of a car. She had been shivering violently, her mind so foggy she couldn’t pull her thoughts together.

  Now, here they were in a warehouse, and he was pushing her forward. She stumbled and almost fell more than once, but he finally pushed her down in a chair and taped her to the chair with duct tape. Her hands were bound together behind her back; tape was run around her waist securing her to the back of the chair; her feet were taped to the front legs of the chair.

  “Why won’t you answer me? What do you want from me?” When he turned and sneered at her, a chill went down her spine. She was all too certain she knew what he wanted. Well, she was damned determined to keep him from getting it!

  Still he was silent.

  Sherry found his silence more frightening than any threat he might have made. Tenseness radiated from him—some emotion she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Whatever it was, Sherry wasn’t at all sure she was going to survive it, but she was determined to try.

  37

  VBPD Headquarters

  Day 10

  Noon

  Press knew David Olivette was no hero. He suspected that, faced with reality, he would roll over on his own mother if it benefited him in some way.

  “Well, Olivette, are you going to take this one and only opportunity to save your own neck? Or are you going to pretend you’re not scared down to your
very bones about the death penalty?” Press offered.

  “I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Olivette was sweating now. His composure was breaking down.

  His JAG attorney, Lieutenant Simpson, sat beside him. “What are you offering exactly?” the attorney asked.

  “Personally, I think our man here killed Macy himself. If he killed Macy, he gets life instead of the death penalty. If, on the off chance someone else did it and he gives us Macy’s killer, we give him a reduced sentence for his involvement before and/or after the killing. Minimum statutory sentence per count. He may never see freedom again, but he’ll be alive.”

  Olivette looked over at his attorney, sweat pouring down his temples.

  Lieutenant Simpson nodded to Olivette, urging him to take the deal. He didn’t think they could prove he killed the girl—his client denied it—but his client was a self-serving liar and the attorney knew it.

  “I swear,” Olivette whimpered, “I didn’t kill Macy. She found out…found out we were moving drugs in and out of the country using military transport and supply chains.”

  Everyone in the room could see his panic to get their help, he kept moving his glance from Press to Rachel to his attorney. He was in full self-preservation mode now.

  “She got access to the safe in their house and found some records that she thought tied George to the drugs. But it wasn’t George…”

  “It was Moira,” Press finished for him.

  “Moira and I have been…lovers for two years. I adore her. I would have done anything for her. But when I told her that Macy had been digging, she didn’t want me involved any more than was necessary.”

  “She told me she needed a car with clean plates. I took her personal car to the airport long-term parking and swapped it for a quiet little hybrid. I didn’t ask her why, I just did as she asked and then made myself scarce.” His hands were shaking now, and he was licking his lips.

  “I didn’t know about Macy until the next day. I swear I didn’t know she was going to kill her.”