by John Douglas
“Orlando sends his support and sympathy,” I said. “He’s assigned Vince Andrews to the case.”
“Do I know him?”
“Young man from Pennsylvania; he brought a box of Krispy Kreme to the house. When we had the picnic, remember?”
“That was a long time ago,” Toni said.
“Not that long. What? Six years?”
“Eric was so little.”
I let that innocent picture of Eric run through our memories and said, “I want you to go to Trevor’s until we find the person who did this.”
Toni jerked out of my arms. “No! I’m not leaving here. I’m not leaving without my son.”
“Toni, there will be news reporters camped out in the parking lot.”
“I don’t care.”
“And gawkers.”
Toni wiped her eyes and shrugged. “Let them gawk.”
“Ali? What about you?”
Ali almost always had a strong opinion about everything. This time, instead of telling us what she wanted, she said, “I don’t know, Dad. Whatever you think is best.”
“Toni?”
“I want Ali to stay here with me.”
“Fine.” I knew it was useless to argue. “We’ll do it this way. But if there’s even a hint of trouble, I’m sending you both to Montana.”
The threat was a family joke, like sending someone to stay with my sister was like sending them away to Siberia, but Toni just nodded, her stare fixed on the space between us.
“I better call my family before they see this on the news.” Toni got up and went into the next room, closing the adjoining door behind her.
Ali got up. “I’m going to take a shower.”
I hugged her. “Everything will be okay, sweetheart.”
“Sure, Dad.”
“We’ll find Eric and bring him home safe.”
“I know.” She wore the same look she had when I’d told her everything would be fine after the divorce. She didn’t believe me then and she didn’t believe me now.
“I promise,” I said.
Ali opened the door and I could hear Toni’s voice talking quietly on the phone. Ali turned to me. “Don’t worry, Daddy, I don’t blame you for this. I know it’s not your fault.”
I gave her a tight-lipped smile, barely a glimmer, and thanked her. But I wasn’t so sure.
31
I paced the room, mapping out our end of this shoestring investigation while Trevor sat on the bed making a list.
Trevor liked lists. “Okay, Dom is on his way to help us cover the hardware stores. I chatted up one of the local cops while you were in the house, and she’s willing to help.”
“She?”
Trevor smiled. “God doesn’t hand out all this charm and then expect a man not to use it. But I’m not sure how far this local is willing to go, you know?”
“You mean you don’t know if she’ll break the law for us.”
“Right.”
“So you admit your charm is limited.”
“I hold back. Like Superman not using his X-ray vision to see through people’s clothes.”
“Uh-huh.” I stopped pacing and looked out the window at the tree line behind the motel. The day was gray and the gloom sucked all the color out of the woods, making the photographer easy to see as he set up his tripod and telephoto lens. “Isn’t that one of the tabloids?”
Trevor joined me at the window. “Looks like Barry from theWeekly World.”
“That means the news has reached Baltimore. And if it’s reached Baltimore, it’s reached Washington. This place will be a zoo by lunchtime.”
I turned away from the window. “Okay, I called Tommy Wight and explained the situation. He’s put us all on the payroll so his license covers us to ask questions.”
“I brought my black bag,” Trevor said.
“I know. What do you have in there, anyway?”
Trevor shook his head. “In light of our current legal limbo, it’s best you don’t know.”
“Okay.”
“But I got enough of whatever you need.”
My cell phone went off and it was Vince Andrews. I realized that I was almost afraid to hear his voice and knew, for the first time, how the relatives of missing children felt when I called. “You have something new, Vince?”
“I’m more interested in what you have. Or will have soon, Jake.”
“What do you mean?” I tried to sound innocent, knowing he’d found out about Tommy Wight and our attempt to flank the Bureau with our Junior G-Man buzzers.
“I’m talking about the file, Jake.”
“What file?”
“The Black Diamond file. Hand it over and this will be as far as it goes. No need to involve the director, okay?”
“Vince, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The Black Diamond file. I called Records. The file is missing and the last person to sign for it is McManus.”
I took a deep breath, hoping the oxygen to the brain would blow open a door to instant enlightenment—and was instantly enlightened to the fact that I knew no more than before.
“Jake. Don’t make this difficult.”
“Vince, I understand why you would think it was my team, but I give you my word that we had nothing to do with this. Katie’s in Florida.”
It was Vince’s turn to take a breath and think. My guess is he came up with the same big zero I had. “I didn’t mean Katie. I meant Rob. Rob McManus signed for the file.”
“When did he do that? I haven’t seen Rob since last night.”
“You’re serious? You had nothing to do with this?”
“On my honor, Vince.”
“Uh-huh. Right. Good. Okay. I’ll get back to you.”
He hung up before I could say anything. I told Trevor about the missing files.
“Maybe Rob is trying to do you a favor,” Trevor said.
I shook it off. “If Rob was trying to do me a favor, he would make sure Vince Andrews has the files.”
“So, what do we do now?”
I picked up the slim Mt. Airy phone book, flipped to the yellow pages, and ripped out the Hardware and Real Estate sections. “I’m going to start asking around at the hardware stores. You take the real estate offices.”
“Real estate?”
“There are vacation cabins for rent around here. Let’s see if someone’s rented one in the last couple days. If the Black Diamond Killer took Eric, he’s going to need a place to build the box. That means electricity. That means a place to stay with a lot of privacy.”
“What if he’s brought the box with him?”
“Then we hope he’s not a camper.”
Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, the hardest part of investigating a case is shaking the press. In this case, the reporters were more interested than usual in where I was going and what I was doing, and how I was feeling. They all wanted to know how I was feeling. It took nearly an hour to shake the last of them and I did that in a mall.
Trevor called from the road. “You should have taken the real estate offices, Jake. The last people weren’t too happy to see a black man ask about rental property.”
“It’s those hip-hop vibes you give off.”
“Thought I was looking to set up a crack den here in white-bread America, turn their sons and daughters into crack whores.”
“Did they give you anything?”
“No. They settled down after I showed them my shield.”
“Uh-huh. What shield is that, Trevor?”
“The one from my black bag.”
“Okay. So, besides impersonating an officer, did you accomplish anything else?”
“No. They have a few cabins up around South Mountain, they said, but they were rented to families they’d known a long time. Not much in the way of houses in town, either. You having any luck with the hardware stores.”
“I haven’t been able to talk to anyone. I have this permanent tail.”
“Reporters?”
&nb
sp; “Uh-huh.”
“Where are you now?”
I told him and Trevor suggested he swing by and pick me up. I agreed. “It’ll slow us down to work the same side of the street, but at this rate I’ll never get away.”
“I just talked to Dom. He’s on his way, Jake.”
“Why didn’t he call me?”
“I don’t know. He said he couldn’t reach you. Must have been in a dead zone or something.”
I looked at the mall around me with its fat shops, coffee bars, karate schools, and tire stores. “I’m in a dead zone, no question about that.”
Within minutes, Trevor’s rental car pulled into the far side of the parking lot. He cruised until he saw me, picked up speed, and barely slowed down long enough for me to jump in.
We spent the rest of the afternoon checking rental offices and hardware stores between Mt. Airy and Frederick.
A Home Depot manager said, “I saw the news and I’d like to help, I really would. But we sell a lot of plywood and a lot of power tools. I’m not sure how much I can tell you.”
“The list would be very specific.” For the sixth time that day I ran it down: “Enough plywood to build a box three by five, maybe two feet deep.”
“Large enough to hold a boy,” Trevor said, driving home the point, just in case this manager had missed it.
The manager’s face went white as the visuals kicked in.
“A power saw, nails, possibly a nail gun or at least a hammer, two threaded galvanized pipes and caps, and digging tools—a shovel and maybe a pick or mattock.”
“Like I said, we sell a lot of those items, but I’ll certainly ask the checkouts. It might take a while to call everyone.”
“I appreciate it.” I shook the man’s hand and we left. On the way to the car I said, “Imagine being a grown man and making your living in an orange vest.”
As Trevor slid behind the wheel, he said, “I hate this part of the job. All these dead ends. All these boring people.”
“That’s why you went HRT. Once you guys are called in, all the footwork’s been done by the grunts like me pounding the sidewalk.”
“I’m surprised we haven’t crossed paths with any of Vince’s men.”
“Me, too. Or at least the locals.”
My cell phone rang. It was Katie calling from Florida. I’d called her earlier to tell her what had happened and had had to persuade her to stay with the investigation in Florida. It took some time, but I finally convinced her to stay on Bower’s trail.
“Jake, is there any word yet on Eric?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Something will break, I just know it.”
“What about you? Anything?”
“I’m so close to Bower’s contact I can smell his cologne. Seems Bower had a thing for college girls. A campus cop here, name of Clausen, caught him lurking around the grounds of one of the dorms. He creeped her out, she said.”
“She’s an excellent judge of character.”
“She took him in for questioning and he called someone. Next thing you know, a lawyer’s on the phone talking habeas corpus and threatening to sue for unlawful detention, false arrest, civil rights violations, you name it. They had to let him go.”
“Have you checked the phone records?”
“I did. Bower’s call was to a motel outside of town. I’m on my way there now.”
“Good girl. Let me know when you’ve got something.”
“You, too,” Katie’s voice went from rapid, all-business, hard-nosed cop-talk to soft and concerned with a slight note of worry. “Jake, my heart breaks when I think about what you and your family are going through. As soon as I’m done here, I’m coming up, and you won’t stop me from helping, Jake.”
“I know, Katie. But right now you’re helping me so much, just knowing you’re on the job Mrs. De Vries hired us to do.”
“I’ll call as soon as I know something.” Katie was about to hang up when she said, “Jake? Do you know where Rob is?”
“No, why?”
“I tried calling him at the Bureau and he’s out sick. So I tried calling home and there was no answer.”
“Did you try his cell phone?” I asked, although I wanted to suggest she try the girl from Records’ apartment and maybe she’d find Rob there.
“I did, but he’s got it turned off or something. I’m a little worried, Jake.”
“I’m sure he’s fine, Katie, but I’ll try him from here if you want me to.”
Katie thought about it a moment. “No, that’s okay. I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just sleeping and has the ringer off.”
“That’s right.”
We made reassuring noises at each other and then signed off. So, not only had Rob taken the Black Diamond file, now he was missing. None of this made me feel any better.
“Rob’s missing,” I said to Trevor.
“See? Not all the news is bad.”
“Katie’s worried.”
“Maybe he’s on his way here.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Trevor shook his head. “I don’t get it. Rob is a lightweight compared to you. What could a smart girl like Katie see in such an asshole?”
“Love makes you stupid. Look at Valerie. How long have you two been married?”
“Sixteen years.”
“And she’s smart.”
“Uh-huh. It’s nice to work with such a funny guy. Keeps things interesting.”
The last real estate office on our list was on the far side of Frederick, a Norman Rockwell town best known as the place where Barbara Frietchie flew the American flag while the Confederates rode through. “Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, / But spare your country’s flag,” the poem goes, and on every corner of Frederick is a plaque or marker honoring the legendary old broad.
“Woman was suffering from dementia” was Trevor’s assessment of Barbara’s patriotism.
The real estate office was in the bottom floor of a two-story building off the main street. We caught Mr. Terwilliger at the door just as he was locking up. I introduced myself and it took a moment, and then his face opened in recognition and sympathy. I immediately liked the guy and guessed he did a modest but honest business. He was probably the kind of real estate agent who talked about putting people in homes rather than houses and meant it. At Christmas, I bet he signed all of his agency’s cards himself.
He let us into the office and sat at his desk. Trevor and I took the padded chairs across from him, the usual husband-and-wife seats. Terwilliger put his elbows on the desk, hands together in an earnest prayer, and said, “How can I help you, Agent Donovan?”
“We’re looking for anyone who might have rented a house or cabin recently. He’d be a single man, white, midthirties to forties, probably driving a van. Someplace that would give him a lot of privacy, maybe with a garage.”
“I don’t even have to check my files. I rented a place north of here yesterday to a nice-looking young man.”
“Did he pay with a credit card or check?”
Terwilliger hesitated and looked from me to Trevor.
“He paid in cash,” Trevor said.
“Don’t worry. We’re not from the IRS,” I said.
Terwilliger swallowed once, then spoke in a voice so low that we had to lean forward to hear him. “Two weeks’ rent plus a very large security deposit. I know I shouldn’t have, but”—Terwilliger searched for an excuse that would give him some moral wiggle room—“business has been so bad lately, what with the economy and no one taking vacations anymore.”
“Was there something about this man that made you suspicious?”
“His name.” Terwilliger let his fingers fold together and he looked away, ashamed of letting his ethics slide.
“Which was?”
“John Smith.” Terwilliger looked at me again. “You’d think he would have come up with something better, out of respect, wouldn’t you?”
It was Trevor’s turn. “Guess he didn’t have to, did he?”
>
Terwilliger had the decency to blush.
32
Vince didn’t even jump on us for working the case. He just took the information, said they would handle it from there, and warned us again to go home and wait for him to call.
“We’ll wait, just like you’d wait if it was your boy.”
“Jake. I’m grateful for the work you’ve done. I am. And I understand how you’d want to be there. But think of how you’d feel if this guy sees you and the whole thing goes south. And it could, Jake, in a hurry. You don’t believe me, ask your partner there how many times a Hostage Rescue op turns bad. Go ahead, ask him. I’ll wait.”
“No, Vince. I don’t have to. I know you’re right. But at least let us come with you. You owe me that, Vince. He’s my son.”
Vince rolled it over in his head, looking for rough spots, of which there were too many to count. “One more in the van won’t hurt.”
“Two more.”
“Two more.” Vince sighed.
He picked us up an hour later in an observation van. An agent from Washington drove while Vince filled us in. “The house is isolated, which is good, but it’s also surrounded by open fields, which gives us no cover.”
“So we wait until dark,” Trevor said. This was his area, and Trevor knew how to get in and get out of a hostage situation better than anyone else I knew, including his superior officers at Quantico.
“That’s right,” Vince said. “The locals have all the roads in and out covered so there’s nowhere he can go. The HRT will be standing by, just in case negotiations fall through.”
“What do you mean, negotiations?”
“Jake, I understand you want to thump some heads. I do, too, but we have to do this by the book. I have the phone number, and when everyone’s in place, I call and try to convince him to give himself up. If he doesn’t, then we play rough. Okay?”
“You know it’s not.”
Trevor put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s the right way, Jake.”
“We’ll have snipers with night scopes positioned, and go teams ready to bust in if I even think things are heading into squirrel town.”
