by Blake Pierce
Johnson waved the comment away, leaning forward in his chair. “Agent Fine, you are of course allowed to use any records within our archives, so long as it is for pertinent case work. As I understand it, the files you took yesterday were regarding your father’s case. A case that has been closed for a while, despite recent discoveries made by you and your sister.”
Before Garcia also chimed in, a single thought went through Chloe’s mind.
How did they find out? Not only do they know I forgot to return the files, but they knew they were about my father.
Before she had time to even speculate, Garcia said: “We just want to be sure you are of a sound mind. We know your father’s case is very close to you—especially since you came across all of that new information several months ago. But if it’s something that is still haunting you, we can’t have you working on active cases out in the field.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. But I made the mistake of visiting him the other day and—”
“With all due respect, I don’t need to hear about all of that,” Johnson said. “I just need some reassurance that you aren’t going to use your time as an agent to try to dig up the ghosts of your past.”
It hurt Chloe to hear this, but she knew that he was right. And honestly, she had not even realized that this was what she was doing.
“Lastly,” Johnson said, “I’m going to give you another forty-eight hours to wrap the Kim Wielding case. If there is no suspect by then, we may just remove the bureau from it, despite the favor that has been asked by Jacob Ketterman.”
The look of dissatisfaction on his face at this made Chloe feel a little better. She nodded and opened up her laptop bag. She took out the file about her father and slid it across the table to Director Johnson.
“I am truly very sorry about this,” she said. “And the coroner visit and test requests…I don’t know. I honestly just didn’t even think about it.”
“Was it perhaps because you were too preoccupied with your father?”
“No,” she said, perhaps a bit too sharply. Garcia seemed to flinch at it.
Johnson sighed and got to his feet. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said. “So please just prove it to me. That’s all, Agent Fine. You’re excused.”
Chloe left right away, not wanting to give Garcia or Johnson another second to come up with anything else they did not find fitting about her performance. She closed the office door behind her and looked at Moulton, still sitting on the chair in the little waiting area outside the office.
“Are we fired?” he asked.
“No. But we now have two days to close this Wielding case or they’re going to take the bureau off of it.”
“I think your idea about reaching out to Sandra Carver is a good one. I think she might see it as a little too soon—you know, after discovering that her husband was cheating on her—but I don’t see that we have any other choice. Just try not to get me into any more trouble.”
“I promise nothing,” Chloe said with a sly smile.
Her comedic attempt and the smile itself felt fake. Because now that she was on a timer, the case suddenly felt more elusive and impossible than ever.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
They drove out to Alexandria, having gotten the address for Sandra’s sister from Bill. He did not seem too thrilled with the fact that Chloe and Moulton would be paying his wife a visit without him by her side, but Chloe was beyond caring what he thought. Truth be told, she was getting pretty damn tired of people and their secrets.
They arrived at the sister’s house at 9:10. It was a very nice house, probably somewhere near a million dollars or so if the neighborhood was any indication. As they walked up the porch steps, Chloe couldn’t help but wonder if this neighborhood held the same secrets and scandals as the Carvers’ little subdivision.
She knocked on the door and was greeted with silence. She knew that Sandra Carver’s job as a proposal coordinator for a military telecom company allowed her to work from home; the only times she needed to report to the offices in DC were for board meetings or when her company was wining and dining potential buyers. She also knew that, according to Sandra’s schedule, she was not due for any such meeting for another two weeks. All that to say, she had nowhere to be. Which was good, given the blow her life had just taken.
Chloe nearly knocked again after twenty seconds of silence. But the door was finally answered. It cracked open a bit and a single tired-looking eye peered out.
“Haven’t you assholes done enough?” Sandra Carver asked from behind the mostly closed door.
Chloe let the comment bounce right off of her. She also managed to say nothing about the fact that neither she nor Moulton had anything to do with her husband’s unfaithfulness.
“We’re sorry to bother you again,” Moulton said, apparently picking up on Chloe’s irritation. “But we’ve had some other news come to our attention and, if we’re being totally honest, thought you might be the best and most brutally honest source of information.”
Sandra thought this over for a moment before stepping out onto the porch. “It’s not my house so I’m not inviting you in. What kind of news are you talking about?”
“We discovered yesterday from the coroner’s office that Kim was pregnant when she was killed. A little over two months.”
“It wasn’t Bill,” she snapped. “And by the way, he’s broken down and told me everything about what happened between them.”
“And you believed him, just like that?” Moulton asked.
“Yes. Also, I know for a fact he had a vasectomy three years ago.”
“That certainly does help then,” Chloe said, a little disappointed that that particular possibility had been so easily squashed. “But I want you to please think very hard about any other men you think Kim might have been involved with. Even if it was nothing more than assumptions or gossip. We’re slowly finding that your neighborhood isn’t exactly the most forthcoming.”
“I’ve been wondering that same thing myself,” she said. “I still find it hard to believe that she managed to seem so clean and pristine while fucking my husband and getting mixed up with that Dillinger character. And I just can’t come up with anything. The only thing that I’d even bother considering is the man that recommended her to us as a nanny.”
“Did they have a history?”
“Just a professional one, I think. But whenever I would mention his name around Kim, she seemed to get a little uneasy. I always assumed it was because she didn’t like the compliments and flattery. But now…yeah, I’d be willing to start speculating on them.”
“Who was this man and how did he end up referring her to you?”
“His name is Gerald Denning. She used to work for him as a nanny out in DC.”
“Does Denning live in your neighborhood now?”
“No. He’s lives in Vista Acres, about ten miles closer to DC.”
“Do you know what he does for a job?” Moulton asked. “That name sounds pretty familiar.”
“I don’t know what he’s doing now but he used to work for the Department of Health and Human Services. He was released two years ago.”
“Any idea why?” Chloe asked.
“No. But you know, even if the two of them weren’t messing around, he’d be a good place to ask questions. The way I understand it, he knew her pretty well in DC before she gave up her career on the trail.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Carver.”
“Sure.” She walked back toward the door, indicating that she was done with the conversation. “Have you talked to my husband?” she asked.
“Briefly yesterday,” Chloe said.
“Like I said…the vasectomy rules him out. But still, but I’d consider it a favor if you went by and asked him about it. Scare the shit out of him.”
Neither of them said anything about this as Sandra opened her sister’s front door and went back into the house. She didn’t bother looking back at them when she closed the door behind her.
&nb
sp; “I won’t lie,” Moulton said as they headed for the car. “Scaring Bill Carver over this does sound like fun. But I bet a simple phone call to Garcia will get us the information we need on Gerald Denning.”
“I was thinking the same thing. And if he had given us a glimpse into the woman Kim used to be, I think we may be able to get some answers before our two days is up.”
“You still think she had a dark side?”
“Exhibit A would be any involvement with Mike Dillinger. Exhibit B would be the fact that a woman with high career ambitions in Washington decided to give it all up to become an overpriced nanny.”
“I’m glad you brought that up. I’ve been wondering the same thing but it’s not really a man’s place to question a woman’s career motives. Political correctness and all.”
“I’ll make the call to Garcia,” she said.
“And I’ll listen in, hoping you don’t get us in trouble again.”
She gave him a playful frown as she pulled out her phone. It occurred to her as she placed the call that Moulton was openly flirting with her for the first time. The timing was terrible but it seemed to fit the tone of the day; where there was progress in the case, there seemed to also be progress toward finding out if there was anything worth mining out of a relationship with Moulton.
Priorities, she scolded herself as the phone started ringing in her ear. Yet until Garcia answered, she and Moulton locked eyes, their gaze thick with expectancy and something else that she wouldn’t dare put a name to just yet.
***
Chloe could hear in Garcia’s voice that he didn’t like giving out information about a man who had once worked for the federal government. But the history of Gerald Denning was apparently known to most within the bureau, but kept secret—almost like some sort of sick inside joke.
Gerald Denning had been released from his position within the Department of Health and Human Services a little over two years ago. He was fifty years old when he was released, and he had been serving with the agency since the age of twenty-nine. By the time of his release, Denning had managed to make a modest name for himself, making a very respectable living without having to become any sort of public figure.
For the last five years of his stretch with the Department of Health and Human Services, Gerald Denning had served as second in command with the Office of Health Reform. This came to an end due to a scandal that made some headlines but stayed mostly quiet. His wife began to have severe panic attacks—so severe that she had to be hospitalized. Shortly after her first stay, she attempted suicide and spent a few weeks in and out of psychiatric clinics. During this time, Denning was filmed by an anonymous source hiring a prostitute, parking with her in an alleyway three blocks from his home, and apparently receiving oral sex from her (these details were hidden by the grainy footage as well as the closed car door).
The footage went public and though it was a hot topic around DC for a day or so, the media decided to keep it quiet out of respect for his ailing wife. Denning was of course relieved of his position and had been living quietly with his wife in a Maryland town not too far away from DC ever since.
Chloe and Moulton received all of this information from Garcia over the phone. It was a little heartbreaking but also quite revealing all at the same time.
“Can I ask why Denning’s name came up?”
“It’s looking like Kim Wielding was his nanny when she was living in DC. Any chance we can find out the dates she was hired by him?”
“It would be easier for you, I’d think. Gerald Denning isn’t going to willfully answer a call from the bureau. But listen…I ask that you remain discreet. And if he gets really shitty with you, drop it. If it’s something you feel warrants further investigation, we’ll handle it with someone higher up the ladder.”
“Any chance Denning is the one who asked Jacob Ketterman to have the bureau look into her death?”
“Doubtful. Denning has done everything in his power to stay away from anyone working for the federal government. Which is why I’m not the biggest fan of you approaching him.”
“But you’ll allow it?” Chloe asked.
There was a moment’s hesitation before Garcia said, “I’ll have his address to you within the next fifteen minutes.”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Vista Acres looked like the kind of neighborhood that usually sat close to hospitals, expensive houses occupied by doctors and surgeons. She supposed there were several neighborhoods like this all around southern Maryland and northern Virginia, populated by people who had once worked in DC and lived very well. The houses were gorgeous, and the landscaping was quite frankly ridiculous in some cases.
Vista Acres sat ten minutes off of the hectic mayhem of the Beltway and about fifteen minutes from the Carvers’ neighborhood. It was almost like some hidden idyllic village for people who had ventured through careers in Washington and just hadn’t been able to handle it.
They parked in front of the house, along the curb even though the driveway leading to the garage could easily hold eight cars. Moulton took the lead, something Chloe appreciated in a chivalrous sort of way. They both knew that Gerald Denning could potentially be rather volatile, and Moulton wasn’t going to allow Chloe to step into such a situation.
Moulton knocked on the door as they looked around the nearly cavernous front porch. It was decorated in a strange design that Chloe thought looked like a strange mish-mash of traditional Greek and modern. She figured the porch itself was worth more than half a year of rent for her apartment.
The door was answered by a tall and slender man. His hair was mostly gray but well kept. Had it been colored, Gerald Denning could have passed for a man in his late thirties rather than his early fifties.
“Can I help you?” Denning asked, clearly annoyed. Chloe assumed this was not the sort of neighborhood where people got unexpected visitors very often.
Moulton showed his ID, and Chloe followed suit.
“Agents Moulton and Fine,” Moulton said. “We’re here to see if you—”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Denning said, closing the door.
Moulton stepped forward, blocking the door with his foot. “We have no interest in your old scandals,” he said. “We’re working a murder case and think you might be able to help us find the killer.”
A look of confusion clouded Denning’s face—a look that quickly morphed into surprise. “A murder? Who’s been killed?”
“A woman that we are told once worked for you,” Chloe said. “Kim Wielding.”
The confusion transformed into shock. Denning stepped back from the door and then looked around as if he needed to collapse in a chair.
He did not invite them in but Moulton took advantage of the situation and stepped inside slowly. Chloe followed behind him, leaving the door open as to not make Denning feel like he was trapped.
“When did this happen?” Denning asked.
“Five days ago,” Chloe said. “She was murdered at the Carver residence. Sandra Carver tells me that it was you who recommended her for the job.”
Denning had resigned himself to the fact that the agents were here to stay. He slowly waked through the foyer and into a comfy-looking den where he sat down heavily on a small reading chair.
“Yes, I did. Kim worked as a nanny for my wife and I for nearly two years when we were still living in DC.”
“What was that working relationship like?” Chloe asked, watching his face closely for any telltale indicators.
“Good. She was great with the kids and became almost like family to Cecily and I.”
“Cecily is your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Is she here, too?” Moulton asked.
“I am,” came a voice from behind them. They turned to look as a waifish woman stepped into the room. She looked sickly yet pretty. “Gerald, who are these people?”
“FBI agents,” he said. “They…they just told me some very bad news. Kim Wielding was killed several days ago.�
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It seemed as if it took Cecily Denning a while to process this information. A dawning look of shock slowly came to her face and she began to shake her head. “Oh my God. Do you know who did it?”
“No,” Moulton said. “Not yet. We’ve come to—”
“Agents,” Denning said, getting to his feet and taking his wife’s hand. “Please give me a moment, would you?”
Without waiting for an answer, he led his wife out of the den and into the hallway. Chloe could hear their footsteps slowly retreating as Denning started to speak to his wife. While they waited, Chloe and Moulton looked around the den. A built-in bookcase was filled with books that looked to be mostly biographies and books about governing law. All of the furniture looked very fancy, like a strong wind could very well tear it all apart.
Denning came back into the room three minutes later. He looked stressed and tired as he returned to his seat. “Sorry about that,” he said. “If you know about my idiotic behavior in the past, you likely also know about Cecily’s breakdowns and hospitalization. When we get news like this, we have to handle it with kid gloves. Her brother passed away last year and I swear I thought she was going to try killing herself again…”
“That’s fine,” Chloe said. “And given the nature of her condition, we can try to make this as quick as possible.”
“Okay…but…you say she was killed at the Carvers’ residence?”
“Yes. And while we’re on that topic, do you mind me asking how you and Sandra Carver crossed paths?”
“She had to come to the Department of Health and Human Services a few times over the course of several months when she was working up a proposal background. I worked fairly closely with her for a while.”
“And how did you meet Kim Wielding?” Moulton asked.
“It was probably about ten or twelve years ago. She was trying to help get this grassroots campaign started for a young man running for congress. God help my poor brain, but I don’t even recall who that young man was anymore.”
