by Robin Mahle
It took several more minutes to get her outside and onto the passenger seat. Her arm swelled up like a balloon.
“I think it’s definitely broken, Mel.” Danny keyed the ignition and made his way to the hospital. He knew there was no way he could pay for this, but she needed help. It was a consequence he’d have to deal with later.
“This is it, Mel. We’re here. I’m going to pull up to the emergency entrance. Just sit tight. I’ll get you some help.” Danny pulled onto the circular driveway and parked beneath the covered entrance. He hurried inside. “My sister’s hurt. She has cerebral palsy. I need help.”
The woman behind the desk grabbed the phone and looked to be calling for help. Danny didn’t wait and quickly returned outside. A moment later, two nurses with a wheelchair arrived.
“She’s right here. I think her arm is broken.”
“What happened, sir?” the nurse asked.
“She fell. She doesn’t do well on her feet. Please help her.”
As the nurses helped her onto the wheelchair, she peered at her brother with teary eyes. “Danny, don’t leave me.”
“They’re going to take good care of you. I promise. You’ll be fine. It’s just a broken arm. You’ll be just fine, Mel.”
She disappeared into the triage unit and Danny peered at the nurse. “Can I go back there? She has to know I’m with her.”
“Let us do our initial intake. Someone will come and get you after that. I’m sure your sister will be just fine.”
Danny folded his arms and stared into the corridor. “Yeah. Okay.”
Agent Grant Tillis stood in the lobby of his field office as the BAU agents arrived. He approached with an extended hand. “Agent Reid?”
“That’s me.” Kate returned the gesture. “This is Agent Duncan. That must make you Agent Tillis.”
“The one and only. Pleasure. Appreciate you clearing your schedule for us.” Tillis started ahead. “Let’s talk in my office. ATF Agent Stallard is waiting.”
5
Night had fallen more than an hour ago and Danny still waited in the hospital. The familiar smell of ammonia and sickness was exactly as he had remembered when he waited with his mother too many times over the course of her illness. She eventually died in this very hospital.
At least one of the nurses had come out to tell him that Mel’s right arm was broken, as he suspected. But that came almost two hours ago. His patience wore paper-thin.
“Mr. King?” An older woman wearing a pantsuit approached him.
He stood from the chair. “Yes?”
“I’d like to speak with you for a moment in private. Would you mind following me?” She started on without giving him a chance to answer.
“I’m sorry, are you a doctor? Is my sister okay?” He jogged to catch up.
“Your sister is resting. She’ll be fine, Mr. King.”
“Then what is this about?”
“Right through here, sir.” She opened the door to a conference room where two others were already inside. The highly polished wood table reflected the can lighting above. City lights shone through the windows. “Please take a seat, Mr. King.”
“What is this about? What’s going on here?” he demanded.
“Mr. King, we need to speak with you about your sister, Melanie.” Another suit spoke, but this one offered a name. “I’m Bob Spears. I work for the Department of Human Services.”
Danny glanced at the woman who had dragged him in here. “You’d better tell me who you are and why I’m here.”
She regarded him with what could have been mistaken for sympathy but looked to him an awful lot like condescension. “Fine.” Danny pulled out a chair and dropped down. “Just so you know, I’m Melanie’s legal guardian.”
“Actually, Mr. King, that’s not the case.” Spears opened a file. “We understand Melanie had been in a home for the disabled up until about 3 years ago when your mother, Ms. Ellen King, pulled her out to return to your current home.”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Danny folded his arms. “What’s the problem?”
Spears glanced at his colleagues before continuing. “Unfortunately, it seems that when your mother passed, there was nothing noted in the department’s files that suggested who would be caring for Melanie. You have been receiving the disability payments issued to her, but it does look as though that was an error.”
“What are you trying to say?” Danny pressed on.
“Mr. King, how did your sister hurt herself?” the woman in the pantsuit asked.
“I told you, she fell down. She falls sometimes, like everyone.”
“Yes, but most people can manage on their own to get back up again. As you are probably already aware, while cerebral palsy doesn’t progress with age, it does, in essence, prematurely age those afflicted with the condition. We’re seeing patients with cerebral palsy living longer and while that is a wonderful achievement, it has brought with it new struggles. The primary struggle being Melanie’s use of her legs. Mr. King, she will continue to be prone to such falls. Possibly, eventually losing her ability to walk altogether. Frankly, you were lucky this time the situation wasn’t worse.”
“Which was why I was there to help her up,” Danny replied. “I’m always there for her.”
“Are you employed, Mr. King?” Spears asked.
“Yes. I work from home in order to look after Mel. I also have a neighbor who checks in on her when I’m not home, which isn’t often. I have no life outside of caring for my sister.”
“But you do rely on the State’s disability payments in order for you to provide for Melanie, isn’t that true?” he pressed on.
“Yeah. Of course it is. Mel has a right to that money.”
“Yes, she does,” Spears replied. “We just need to be sure it’s going to her in order to give her the best care possible. But let’s get back to the point of guardianship.”
Danny knew where this was going. Up to now, this had never been an issue because Melanie went to her regular doctors for meds and checkups and nothing had ever happened, until this. “You’re telling me that I have to fight to keep my sister at home. Is that right?”
“In a manner of speaking…” Spears continued but was cut short.
“Fine. So what do I have to sign to make that happen, huh? The sooner I can get Mel home, the better it will be for her. And I assume you all want what’s in her best interest.”
“Of course we do,” Spears added. “But according to her doctors and our own evaluation, we believe it is in Melanie’s best interest to reside at a long-term care facility where she won’t have accidents such as this. Mr. King, there are people who should be taking care of her, ensuring she gets proper exercise, physical therapy, as well as continuing education that will help her.”
Danny slapped the table and stood. “You’re not letting me take Mel home?”
“Mr. King, please sit down. Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Spears replied. “I don’t want to have to call security.”
Danny’s face reddened. “Then let me take my sister home.”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that. If you wish to pursue this further, you’ll need to file paperwork and wait for a hearing,” Spears replied.
“How long will that take?” Danny asked.
“Months, maybe longer.”
Danny’s hands clenched into fists. “You assholes. I’m doing the right thing by helping Mel. And here you are taking her away from her home and her family. You don’t want to do this. I promise you.”
Spears glanced at his colleagues and returned his attention to Danny. “I’m sorry. It’s already done.”
Stallard leaned against the lateral file cabinet behind Tillis’s desk. With his arms folded, he peered at the BAU agents. “So, Agents Reid, Duncan, what do you think? What kind of suspect are we dealing with?”
Files had been spread out on the table in Tillis’s office. Kate peered at them again. “Obviously someone with extensive knowledge of computer hacki
ng. Anyone who can break into someone’s Facebook page to initiate a livestream of their death is someone who is looking to make a statement.”
“A social statement, in my opinion,” Duncan added. “The bomb, to me, is the delivery mechanism of his message.”
“I agree,” Kate continued. “We’re dealing with a killer who wants to kill but doesn’t have the fortitude to get close enough to do it himself. Either he doesn’t think he has the physical strength, though a gun would resolve that, or he doesn’t have the mental strength. Murdering someone takes the kind of mindset most people don’t have. And to murder using their own physical attributes means that person has an extraordinary ability to compartmentalize.”
Stallard pushed off the file cabinet and paced the office. “I don’t claim to be an expert in psycho-analysis. That’s why you all are here. But I can tell you, the explosives used were pretty bush-league. Whoever it is probably watched videos on YouTube about how to build bombs. They were remotely detonated and the devices themselves weren’t substantial enough to do a lot of damage outside the intended targets. Though his use of the vehicle’s fuel as a propellant could do extensive damage if it were the right vehicle.”
“That could be the goal,” Duncan replied. “You had the death of the victim at the blast in Downtown, along with some minor injuries. And no one else was hurt in the strip mall blast.”
“That’s right.” Stallard halted in place. “You could surmise the target was the only one the suspect intended to kill. Placement of the explosive also suggests that. We don’t know that yet and it’s impossible to say for sure this early in the game.”
“Could be the unsub is testing the waters. He knows he’s not an expert in that area so he’s trying things out for size. Learning from mistakes.” Kate turned to Stallard. “Did you find any distinctions in the materials between the two explosive devices?”
“We’re still analyzing the second device, but so far, they appear identical,” he replied.
“And he’s definitely cloning the phones,” Tillis cut in. “The first victim’s phone records were clear in that respect. We’re currently analyzing the phone records of Tom Massena now.”
“That’s how he’s getting into their social media accounts,” Duncan added.
“He’s following them, both online and in person,” Kate said. “He’s learning their habits, schedules, then picking just the right time to make his move. Making sure they’re alone when the opportune time presents itself. These victims were successful, well-off, right?”
Tillis nodded. “That’s right. The first victim, Rob Delaney, wasn’t wealthy, but he clearly had some money. Our second victim, Tom Massena, was pretty well-off. But the two lived on opposite ends of town. I have no idea how the suspect would have found these guys.”
“One thing I’ve noticed, Agent Reid,” Stallard began. “Is that you keep referring to the suspect as a ‘he.’ Is that used in the general sense of the term, or are you convinced we’re dealing with a male suspect? Could there possibly be two?”
“Serial killers, in general, are male, white, mid 20s to early 30s,” Kate replied. “Serial bombers, in particular, are also male. It’s too early to definitively state whether we are dealing with a lone serial bomber. Generally speaking, they’re a little older, as I’m sure you know, but I won’t rule out a younger male suspect based on his knowledge of cell phone software vulnerabilities and social media. Unless I’m wrong about that? You’re ATF. You’re the bomb expert.”
He nodded. “That’s the general assumption, yes.”
“So, we agree that we’re most likely dealing with a male unsub,” Kate replied. “That leaves me with developing a deeper profile based on what we know right now. I should say the idea there could be two is possible, though the nature of a serial killer is to act alone. Not always, but usually.”
“How soon can you get us something?” Tillis asked. “I don’t want another bombing on my watch.”
“A couple of days, at the most,” Kate replied.
“Will you two be sticking around then?” Stallard asked.
“Tonight only. We have a team back at Quantico who will offer input on our profile,” Kate replied. “We would still like to see the sites of both explosions first thing in the morning. Then we’ll get out of your way until we can put something together for you.”
“Fair enough.” Tillis approached Kate. “It was a pleasure meeting you Agent Reid. Agent Duncan. Glad to have the big boys and girls at Quantico on board.”
The sit-down was scheduled offsite to avoid eavesdroppers and it was a good excuse to see Levi Walsh after work and have a drink with him. Nick waited in the booth of the restaurant and sipped on his Coke.
Walsh arrived right on time and stood before him. “Scarborough. How’s it going, brother?”
“Hey, man. Doing all right. Thanks for coming down.” Nick offered his hand. “Take a seat.” He raised his index finger to the bartender and glanced at Walsh. “What can I get you?”
“Draft beer. Doesn’t matter what kind.” He slipped into the booth.
“Can I get a draft over here?” Nick asked.
“Bud okay?”
“That’ll do,” Nick replied. “So, how’s things going at Unit 4 without Kate and Duncan around?”
“What, are you kidding me? Never been so bored in my life. Those two keep us on our toes,” Walsh replied.
“I remember it well.” Nick glanced at his soda and hesitated a moment, turning serious. “Listen, I heard back from a buddy in the Boston Field Office. Made a quick call in search of answers without digging too deep.”
The bartender set down the pint glass of beer. “Can I get you guys anything else? Wings, nachos?”
Walsh peered up at him. “I’ll take some wings.”
“Same here. Thanks,” Nick added. “So, anyway, he says only two people had access to Richard Lehmann’s possessions, which included his phone.”
“And?” Walsh asked.
“And at the time Kate received that text message, no one from that field office had signed in to view Lehmann’s personal property. In fact, as far as he knows, no one from his office had gone down there until the next day.”
“So a big goose egg, huh?” Walsh tipped the beer to his lips and wiped away the foam.
“For now. I’m not sure what I was hoping for. Whoever it was isn’t going to make this easy for us. I’ve learned that much over the past few months,” Nick replied.
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t someone who decided to take a stroll into Evidence and had some fun with Lehmann’s phone. Someone higher-ranking. Someone nobody would question as to why they didn’t follow protocol and fill out the proper paperwork. What do you want to do now?”
“We go deeper,” Nick said. “Gustafson, Carol Whitman’s father was highly influential at the Bureau in his day.”
“And I’ve tracked down everything I could find about him. His record was extraordinarily clean. No ethics complaints, no censures,” Walsh said.
“And he passed away, what, 10 years ago?” Nick stopped speaking when the bartender returned with the food. “Thanks very much. I’ll take another Coke too, please.” When he walked out of earshot, Nick continued. “We need to find out everyone he was in charge of during his tenure. I have to think it’s someone who worked under him. Admired him. Got close to him.”
“And that person must still be with the Bureau.” Walsh picked up a chicken wing and dipped it into the blue cheese dressing. “It’ll take some time and will be a little tough to do without raising any flags. You got any idea how to go about that?”
Nick glanced through the window. “Can’t make a records request. We might have to go about this the old-fashioned way.”
“Physical files.” Walsh nodded. “It’ll still be tough, but I can think of something that’ll appear innocent enough. Research into the old man. Bureau history. Whatever.”
Nick took a drink again. “So long as you steer clear of it. You’re too
high-profile. It’ll have to be someone we can trust who’s lower on the food chain. Not an agent.”
“Civilian staff. That means we have to tell someone else what we’re up to.”
“Not if it’s under the pretense of research, like you said. Let me check with Cole’s office. He’s got some grunts who would be more than willing to do a favor for a senior agent,” Nick replied.
“What happens if they’re questioned?” Walsh threw back a swig of beer.
“All they’ll need to do is give Cole’s name. No one will ask anything further.”
Walsh wiped his mouth with a napkin. “That’s a risky proposition, my friend. One you’d better hope Cole doesn’t learn about.”
6
Fear and confusion shrouded Melanie’s face the moment Danny revealed she wasn’t going home. It was as if the trust she’d placed in him all these years vanished in an instant. They let him drive her there while they followed.
From behind the wheel, he tendered a desolate gaze. “It won’t be like before, Mel,” he assured her, glancing at the home where she had been years earlier. “I will come see you every day this time.” He ushered her inside and helped get her checked in while the social workers filled out the paperwork.
It hadn’t been Danny’s choice to keep Mel in a home until his mother could no longer afford it. It had simply come down to a financial choice. If Mel was home, his mother would’ve had to stay home with her. The resulting money issues would’ve been unavoidable, much as they were right now. And when Mel finally came home, Danny had both his mother and his sister to care for. Mel’s life improved, his had not. However, he had accepted his fate.
Now, having returned home alone, he threw open the front door and marched inside. Rage churned in his gut as he slammed the door and paced the living room, desperate for a way to fix this. Danny snatched a glass from the coffee table and threw it against the wall, shattering it into tiny shards that landed in the carpet. He gave voice to his rage with a guttural moan before dropping onto the sofa.
