by C. M. Sutter
Hardy nodded.
Jeremy spoke up. “How do we go about taking care of things here? We drove past the house, and there’s crime scene tape all around it.”
“Yes, the entire property is cordoned off,” Hardy said. “I’ll admit, it’s going to take time to go through the house. At this point, anything can be a clue. The coroner will need you to identify the deceased, but it may be a week or two before we can release their bodies to you.”
The couple stood to leave with the directions to the coroner’s office in hand. Diane turned to me. “Agent Monroe, do you think they suffered?”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think so, Diane.” I handed her my card, and she tucked it into her purse. “Please, if you think of anything else, we’re only a phone call away.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Hardy escorted the couple to the lobby.
J.T. raised his brows. “What was that you said thirty minutes ago about telling the truth?”
“Seriously? There’s a time for the truth, and that wasn’t it. Come on. We’re going to wrap up things with Chad Nolan so we can officially eliminate him as a person of interest.”
“Where are we going?”
“To Scenic View Realty.” I stopped in the hallway just before the elevators. “We should wait for Cap and tell him what we’re doing. After the final interview with Chad, we can track down that kid from the grocery store.”
Hardy rounded the corner. “Well, they’re on their way to the coroner’s office. It’s got to be devastating to lose both your parents at the same time.”
“I’m sure it is. We’re going to do some footwork, Cap. First, we’ll finish up with Chad then check out the bag boy and his whereabouts for Wednesday night.”
“Sounds good, Jade, and I’ll find out what I can about the neighbor with the dog.”
J.T. pressed the elevator button for Hardy, and the doors parted. “We’ll be back after lunch.”
Minutes later in the car, I chuckled as J.T. drove.
He cocked his head at me. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s nothing, only my inner visual of how it’s going to look when two FBI agents enter Scenic View Realty and announce they want to talk to Chad Nolan. He may be innocent of murder, but there’s something hinky under way on his home front. It doesn’t seem like he and Kayla get along very well, and remember when she said, ‘What did Chad do now?’ How are we supposed to interpret that?”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough. He doesn’t have a police record on file, so it has to be personal.”
J.T. found a parking spot at the end of the block on Lilac Street. The real estate office was four doors away.
“A surprise visit is the best way to go. I hope he’s still there and not out showing a property,” I said.
J.T. checked his watch. “It’s still pretty early to be showing houses. They’ve only been open for an hour.”
We reached the building that was attached on both sides to other retail stores. Cute green-and-white striped awnings accented the windows on the front façade, likely because that side of the street faced the morning sun. We walked up the three steps, and J.T. pulled open the glass door. A buzzer sounded even though all of the Realtors’ desks were in that main room. Kathryn, the gatekeeper and receptionist, sat nearest the door. The name plate on the desk gave her identity away.
“Hello, may I help you?”
I scanned the room and immediately saw Chad at his desk two rows back. He hadn’t actually met us since we were behind the glass wall in the observation room during his interrogation. I assumed from his behavior as we stood there that he thought we were a husband and wife interested in buying a home or selling our own. Several customers sat alongside the desks of other Realtors.
“Hello, Kathryn. I’m FBI Agent Jade Monroe.” I flashed my badge at her then tucked it back under my blouse. “We spoke earlier.”
She stood and smoothed her dress then leaned forward and whispered to me. “I thought our phone call took care of things.” Her eyes darted from desk to desk.
I smiled. “Not entirely. We need to speak with Chad Nolan.” I turned and looked directly at him. His face went white.
Chad pushed back his chair and stood. Every eye in the room was on him. “What is this about? Why do you want to speak with me? I’ve already given—”
J.T. interrupted. “Wouldn’t you rather speak privately, Mr. Nolan?”
Chad jerked his head toward a closed door behind him. “Yeah, back here in our records room will do.”
We followed him into the long narrow room. It had a small table and one chair, but nobody sat.
“We know you were interviewed several times, but we have a few questions of our own. I’m sure you’re aware that an interview was conducted with Kayla too by the police department.”
“Yeah, and I’m still wondering why. How many times do we need to be dragged in? And now the FBI comes to my workplace. This is harassment.”
I grinned. “You have no idea what harassment is, Mr. Nolan, and you were considered a person of interest. The police and FBI can interview you as often as we feel necessary until you’re cleared.”
He smirked. “And when is that going to be?”
J.T. spoke up. “Where were you Wednesday night between six and seven?”
“At home with my family.”
We stared him down. The silence seemed to make him uncomfortable. Chad pulled at the tight shirt collar and tie around his neck.
“Choking on something or just hanging yourself?” I smiled at him then at J.T. “Maybe he needs that chair after all. He’s looking kind of faint.”
“I agree. We might be here for a while.”
“Okay, fine. I wasn’t at home, but I’m sure you already know that.”
“Don’t waste our time saying you were showing a house, either. We’ve checked that angle too.”
Chad plopped down in the chair and let out a deep groan. “I have a girlfriend, all right? We were together at her apartment Wednesday night until nine o’clock.”
“What’s her name, address, and phone number?” I asked.
“Come on!”
“Do we look like we’re kidding?” J.T. said. “The lies you dish out to your wife are on you. Now give us your girlfriend’s name, address, and phone number.”
He rattled off the information and her name—LeAnn. “Are we done now?”
“Hardly. Stay put.”
I dialed the number Chad had given us, and a female voice answered right away. I told her who I was and that we were conducting interviews with people about the recent murders. I said she was welcome to come down to the precinct for a formal interview or she could answer a few questions over the phone.
“But why me?”
“It’s because your name came up in an interview with someone else. So would you mind telling me where you were Wednesday night between six and seven p.m.?”
“Oh, sure, I was having dinner at my mom’s house.”
“Okay, that should do it, but we may have to confirm that information. Thank you.” I clicked off. “Now the fun part begins.”
J.T. stuck out his hand to Chad.
“What?”
“Give me your phone.”
“Why should I do that?”
“You’ll see.”
Seconds later, Chad’s phone rang. J.T. laughed when he saw the name on the screen. The number was LeAnn’s, but the name showed Ralph Farcy. “You couldn’t do better than Ralph?”
Chad buried his face in his hands, and J.T. let the call go to voicemail. We waited a minute before playing the message on speakerphone.
LeAnn was angry and frazzled. She said Chad needed to call her right away because the FBI had just contacted her. She had made up a lie to cover Chad’s ass for Wednesday night, and now he owed her one.
“Wow, now you have two women pissed at you. Good luck with that,” J.T. said.
“Yeah, thanks. Am I in the clear now?”
We left the building and headed back to the Explorer. As I sat in the passenger seat, I crossed Chad’s name off my list.
“Okay, now to track down that grocery store kid.” I Googled Giant’s Market in Omaha, and the address popped up. We would interview the manager to get the name and address for the fired bag boy.
Chapter 21
Our interview with Mr. Reynolds, the manager at Giant’s Market, proved to be a dead end. He explained that the young man in question, Bradley O’Conner, was indeed fired due to bad performance but shortly afterward had moved to Denver.
“You can check with the kid’s mom to be sure, but he said he was going to quit anyway to go live with his dad. Maybe that’s why he didn’t do his best to keep his job. His final paycheck was sent to that Denver address.”
We took down his mother’s name and phone number and made the call. She confirmed that Bradley had moved to Colorado a month earlier and hadn’t returned to Omaha.
I checked the time on the dashboard. “Let’s head back and see if anyone has a lead to follow up on. I don’t mind my lunch coming from a vending machine.”
We walked into the precinct fifteen minutes later and found Hardy eating a sandwich at his desk. He nodded for us to come in.
“Have a seat, agents. I’ll be done here in a minute. What’s the word with Nolan?”
“He was visiting his girlfriend Wednesday night. It’s what we suspected from the lack of concern Kayla showed for him.”
“Yeah, and the kid?”
“Dead end,” J.T. said. “He moved to Denver after he was fired and hasn’t returned to Omaha since. The mother confirmed it.”
“How about the nasty neighbor and his dog?” I asked.
Hardy wiped his mouth, took a sip of coffee, and answered. “Bad blood between them for a while, nothing more. He and his wife were visiting friends in Arizona until yesterday. He showed me the airline receipt and the crumbled-up boarding passes he dug out of the garbage can. He said, in hindsight, he feels awful to have let the rift about his dog ruin their friendship. He took the blame for everything.”
As we were about to get up, Hardy’s desk phone rang.
I pointed at the door. “We’re going to hit the vending machines, Cap. We’ll give you some privacy.”
J.T. and I left Hardy’s office, and I closed the door behind me. In the cafeteria, with a club sandwich, a bag of chips, and a soda, I took a seat across from J.T., who had a matching meal.
“I hope something pops soon. If there aren’t any leads coming in, Spelling might reassign us somewhere else.”
J.T. nodded with a mouthful of sandwich.
“Since both houses were in a quiet, residential neighborhood, nobody had any security cameras. So we’re out of luck there.”
J.T. finally swallowed. “I have an idea, even though it’s far-fetched.”
“Anything would sound good about now.” I leaned forward and waited.
Hardy burst into the cafeteria. “Agents, I need you in my office now!”
I jumped up. “Oh shit, did I speak too soon?”
I tossed our plastic containers and napkins in the wastebasket as we left the cafeteria. “What’s going on, Cap?”
“You aren’t going to believe this, and it’s the fastest way I could think of to get an official statement. I have Skype open on my desktop computer, and there’s a young lady sitting at the desk of Sergeant Bateman over at the southeast precinct.”
“Okay?” I looked at J.T., whose eyebrows were already raised.
“Pull your chairs over here and have a seat, agents.”
We did as Hardy instructed and saw a young lady and Sergeant Bateman sitting side by side at his desk.
Hardy introduced everyone, and instinctively, I pulled out my notepad from my pants pocket.
“Okay, Len, the floor is yours,” Hardy said.
Sergeant Bateman told us how the young lady to his left, Tara Lamar, came to him yesterday fearing something had happened to her friend, Jackie Stern. Jackie hadn’t shown up for their lunch date, and after driving to her house to check on her, Tara peered through the patio doors and saw several bags of groceries left on the kitchen counter. Jackie hadn’t answered any calls or texts by the time Tara arrived at the precinct, which was several hours later.
I wrote as fast as I could.
Sergeant Bateman went on to tell her that he couldn’t file a missing persons report after only a few hours but said for Tara to contact him if Jackie hadn’t been located after twenty-four hours.
Bateman pointed at the distraught young lady at his side. Her eyes were swollen and red. “She called my desk today since her friend still hadn’t been located. I told her to come in to file a report. Meanwhile, I sent an officer to the missing girl’s home to conduct a wellness check. That’s when I got the call.”
“What call?”
“From my officer, who said that through the windows, the house looked normal. He did see the bags of groceries on the counter like Tara described yesterday. They were still sitting in the same place. He didn’t notice anyone inside, there was no purse on the counter, and the driveway was empty. For all intents and purposes, nothing looked out of place. That’s when my officer saw the For Sale sign.”
“Shit. Not Scenic View Realty again.”
“Bingo, Agent Monroe. Shall we breach the house?”
“Meet us there. We need that address, and don’t enter the premises until we arrive.” I looked at Hardy. “Do you use the same crime lab throughout the county?”
“Sure do. I’ll let Stan know we need them at the scene.”
Chapter 22
With his siren blaring and lights flashing, Hardy led the way. By following his cruiser down the surface streets, we reached the address on the southeast side of the city in twenty-five minutes. Luckily, he knew all the shortcuts. As we were leaving, the police scanner squawked out an alert about a three-car pileup on the freeway that was blocking traffic. Patrol units and EMTs were on their way, and the freeway would look like a parking lot before long. I was thankful we were following somebody who knew a different route to the house.
We pulled up to the curb behind Hardy and got out. The unassuming single-story white house was now a possible crime scene. Squad cars lined both sides of the street, and crime scene tape sealed the area around the house.
I recognized the face of the man that we had spoken with on Skype. Sergeant Bateman stood against the handrail that led up three steps to the front door. Hardy, J.T., and I reached him and the officer who’d conducted the wellness check. We shook their hands.
“Any evidence of foul play along the perimeter of the property?” Hardy asked.
“We haven’t checked or touched anything yet, Captain. My superior said to follow your instructions to the letter. He’s stuck at a fundraising event that he’s committed to.”
“Understood, and Agents Monroe and Harper are calling out the instructions. Do whatever they say,” Hardy said.
“Yes, sir.”
J.T. pointed at the back of the house. “Get several men back there and start walking a grid. Mark anything that looks out of place. Officer, did you look through every window when you did the wellness check?”
“Yes, sir, and I didn’t see any movement. I also called out to the homeowner, and nobody answered.”
“Okay, let’s get inside and see what we have.” Seven of us gathered at the front door. “Everyone who’s going in the house needs to glove up before entering.” J.T. waited until we were ready. He turned the knob—the door didn’t budge. He nodded, and we backed up several feet. The officer with the ram approached and pushed the door in.
We entered slowly and made sure to watch our every step. Stan Fleet, the forensic lead, and two of his team members waited until we cleared the house for their own safety. When we called out to them, they entered.
Stan studi
ed the scene in the kitchen. “There was likely some sort of struggle right here. Not only are the groceries still on the counter, but several canned goods have fallen to the floor. That tells me someone possibly entered the house as she was bringing in the groceries. The perp may have hid in the coat closet by the door then took her by surprise.” He pointed at the floor. “That’s evident by the cans of vegetables strewn about. Either she didn’t think of locking the door behind her when she brought in the last bag of groceries or the person had already entered the house without her knowledge. Because there wasn’t a huge struggle, knocked-over furniture and the like, I’m guessing he zapped her with the Taser just like he did Mr. and Mrs. King. She didn’t have time to react.” Stan pulled the soggy carton of ice cream out of the wet bag. “We have a half gallon of ice cream here.” He placed it in the sink and removed the lid. “Every bit of it is liquid, and nearly all of it has seeped out. The friend reported her to you about twenty-four hours ago, Sergeant Bateman?”
“That’s correct.”
“She’s probably been missing for nearly thirty hours.”
“How about a grocery receipt in the bags?” I asked. “They’re time stamped.”
Stan checked each bag. “No luck. She probably stuck the receipt in her wallet after she paid. At least that’s what my wife does.”
“Hang on here,” J.T. said. “The grocery bags are marked with Shop and Save’s logo.” He jerked his head at Hardy. “Get somebody to that store and pull up the videotapes from yesterday between eight a.m. and two p.m.”
Hardy called out to a nearby officer. “Did you hear that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, get another officer to join you and report directly to me when you know something.” He handed the officer a small framed picture of Tara and Jackie that sat on a bookshelf. “Take this with you. That has to be Jackie, according to Tara’s description of her.”
Stan entered the living room and clicked on the TV. “Programs taped but none watched from nine a.m. yesterday until now.” He pointed at the phone on the end table. “That’s odd, for a twenty-seven-year-old to have a house phone.”
