by J. L. Brown
“I’m a part of something that I can’t get out of. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
“Andrew, we can help you.”
He glanced out the window and stood suddenly, knocking the chair to the floor. He looked back at Jade, and said, “Warriors don’t run. I need to get back to work.”
He righted the chair and hustled back behind the counter. She looked out the window.
William stared back at her. He raised his hand and waved.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
Arlington, Virginia
She couldn’t breathe.
Jade’s eyes popped open. Her cell phone was vibrating on the table. Card, her cat, had lately taken to sleeping on her neck. He had no concept of personal space. She gently pushed him off.
She grabbed the phone. Two missed calls. Ethan.
“Your vigilante struck again.”
“Where?” she croaked.
“Not too far from you. A 7-Eleven in Arlington. I’ll text you the address. The rest of your team is on their way.”
She dropped the phone on the table among the files she’d been studying prior to nodding off on her living room couch last night.
It was ironic that it was just this afternoon she had turned her focus back to the bullying case. There hadn’t been any reason to. There hadn’t been any new leads. Or nothing new happening.
Until now.
*
Jade parked the Audi down the street from the 7-Eleven store, which was a mile from her house. She could have walked.
The night was lit up like day. She had no trouble spotting Christian among the police officers and detectives.
“You got here fast,” she said.
Before he could answer, Dante and Micah came up to them. She rolled the sleeves of her shirt up her forearm. “What do we have?”
“I’ll show you,” Christian mumbled.
They followed him around the store to the small parking lot in back. Christian flashed the badge on a lanyard around his neck to a police officer, and slipped it back into his shirt pocket.
Two crime-scene technicians in protective gear bent over the body. Several others searched for evidence nearby. The crime scene photographer shot pictures of everything.
The condition of the corpse was like the other victims. Bruises and welts down the left side. The head, a bloody mess. The crotch area appeared worse.
Her eyes closed. A brief bow of her head. “Damn.”
“Who is he?” Micah asked.
“Andrew Huffman,” Christian said, quietly. “We just interviewed him today.” He inclined his head toward the Arlington County police officers. “They notified his parents. They’re on their way.”
“Fairfax is pretty far from here,” Jade said.
“There’s a popular spot nearby where the Randolph kids hang out sometimes. Frankie’s. Games. Pool. Heard of it?”
She nodded. “Did it happen here?”
Christian flicked his thumb at the techs. “They think so. It doesn’t look like he was dumped.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You think William’s good for it?”
“What’s his motive?”
“Not sure.” She looked down at the body again. “But this warrior won’t be running anymore.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
Washington, DC
Jade poked her head into her boss’s door. “You wanted to see me?”
Ethan Lawson looked up from the newspaper spread out on his desk. He showed her the front page. She walked in and sat across from him. The headline blared The Bully Killer Strikes Again; underneath, smaller type: Randolph High School Parents Frantic.
“Haven’t had a chance to read it today,” she said, taking it from him. She skimmed the article.
“Press office says its phones have been ringing off the hook,” Ethan said. “Local media. National media. The local police. Parents of the students.”
She gestured at the paper. “These headlines don’t help.”
“They’ve beefed up security around the school. Some of the parents of the baseball team are homeschooling their kids until this is over. The season has been suspended.” He waited for her to finish reading. “What’s the latest on your end?”
She updated him on the investigation into the murder of Andrew Huffman. “We’re headed over to the school now. To interview the students again.”
“We need to solve this.”
Jade returned his stare. “You sure have changed your tune.”
“All right. You were right.” He leaned back in his chair, twirling his ring. “How many bullies can there be in one school?”
“Looks like a lot. Are you asking me if there will be more deaths?”
He stared at her, waiting for an answer.
She put her hands on her thighs and pushed herself up from the chair. “If we don’t catch him . . . yes.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
Fairfax, Virginia
Christian squatted in a chair much too small for him and glanced around the room. “Déjà vu.”
They then spent most of the afternoon in a conference room off Randolph Secondary School’s main office, individually interviewing the same students they had talked to in groups two months ago. The students who were still alive anyway. The nonchalance that Jade and Christian had endured at those prior interviews had transformed into something else.
Fear.
Dante and Micah were in the other room also conducting interviews. Despite their intense questioning, they were no closer to discovering whether any other students were involved in bullying Tyler Thompson or who could be killing the boys who bullied him.
The final interview of the day was with William Chaney-Frost.
He strode into the room. “Howie’s back!”
Most of the kids she’d interviewed earlier were visibly shaken. Not this one.
Jade ignored Christian’s puzzled look. After William situated himself, she said, “Talk to me about Tyler.”
He sighed and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “I’m a year older.” He created a paper football as he talked. “We didn’t run in the same crowd.”
She pointed. “I haven’t seen one of those in a while.”
The boy glanced at it. “My Dad showed me. He used to make them when he was in school. Now, I have everybody doing it. We have tournaments and stuff during class.”
“Where were you last night?”
“Home. My parents are keeping me on a short leash these days.”
“What were you doing at Jimmy John’s?”
“Meeting up with Drew.”
“I thought you were on a short leash.”
“My parents were at work. I got home before they did.”
“Who bullied Tyler Thompson?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“It could’ve been a lot of people.”
“Was it you?”
“I bet it was Zach and Andrew, but I don’t know that for sure. Like I told you, they had a problem with Tyler being gay.”
Christian looked up from his notebook, but didn’t react. Jade had already told him about William’s claim.
“Did you?” she said.
“No.”
“That just doesn’t sound like Andrew to me,” she said. “And I can’t ask either of them, because they’re dead. I can only take your word for it.” William gave her an exaggerated shrug. “Any idea who might be killing your teammates?”
“We won states last year and the year before that. We were projected to go again this year. Maybe a rival team? There are a lot of haters out there. You know what that’s like.”
“What do you mean?”
He gave her a shy, charming smile. “You’re a badass, and you’re beautiful. If you don’t have haters, you ain’t poppin’.”
Badass enough to be inured to your charms.
Jade did know about haters. As an All-American basketball player at Stanford and a former WNBA pla
yer, a lot of people wanted to be her friend on the way up. The same people who couldn’t wait to watch her fall. Some of those people tried to get back in touch with her after the notoriety of the TSK case. She hadn’t returned any of their calls or texts.
“Your teammates are dying. How does that make you feel?”
The lingering smile evaporated. The bravado gone. “Scared.”
“You don’t look scared.”
He put the football in his pocket. “I am. On the inside.”
Jade stood, hands braced on the table, leaning toward him. “You don’t seem too anxious to find out who’s killing your teammates. Aren’t you afraid this person will come after you?”
The kid slouched in his chair. “I shouldn’t be. I didn’t bully T. I haven’t bullied anyone. I tried to get close to him. Become his friend.”
“Why is that?”
He glanced over at Christian. “Because of his mom, man. She’s fine.”
Jade had heard this from some of the other male students, particularly the athletes. “Why would that make you want to be his friend?”
“So, he’d invite me to his house.” He glanced over at Christian again, giving him a man-to-man look. “Because she’s a MILF.”
Mom I’d Like to Fuck.
“You know what that means, right Howie?”
Jade reached over and caught Christian’s forearm in a firm grip before he began to rise. If he could murder with his eyes, William Chaney-Frost would be dead.
Perhaps, the kid didn’t realize he had just insulted the sister-in-law of a federal agent.
She looked at him. “I just saved your life.” She rose. “I’m going to get some water. You want some?”
The teenager sat up. His eyes round, unblinking. “You’re not leaving me alone with him. Are you?”
She walked toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”
Christian stood. The closer he came to William’s chair, the more the boy leaned back in his seat, until he was almost horizontal. Christian stopped at the chair, raised his fists, and then flinched. “Boo!”
William recoiled.
Christian smiled before preceding Jade out the door.
She took one last look behind her.
William finally looked scared.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
Washington, DC
Later that afternoon, she and Pat Turner sat alone in a conference room at the Bureau. As Pat fiddled with a VCR playback recorder, Jade thought about William and the bullying case, trying to tease out how he was involved. After the interviews, Dante and Micah had interviewed William’s parents. They vouched that he was home with them all night.
Pat finished setting up and put the first tape in. “I can’t believe businesses still use this technology.”
Jade slipped a small plastic yellow bag out of her pants pocket, and selected a red M&M. She returned the bag. “Start it at eight p.m.”
A call mid-morning from the coroner had pegged Andrew Huffman’s time of death between nine p.m. and midnight.
Pat fast-forwarded until the time stamp in the lower-right corner of the screen showed 20:00, and then pushed play. The view, from the ceiling, covered the 7-Eleven’s entrance and the ATM just inside the store.
“Forward until you see movement.”
At 20:11, a man walked in, his image grainy, his movements jerky because of the tape’s low-quality. The picture was the opposite of hi-def.
“Stop,” Jade said. She scrutinized the face, but didn’t recognize him. “Mark the time. Go on.”
They continued to watch the tape in this way, stopping and examining everyone who came in, fast-forwarding when the store was presumably empty.
At 22:50 on the time stamp, Jade sat up. Huffman entered wearing a t-shirt and ripped designer jeans. The same clothes he had worn when she viewed his body in the parking lot. He was out of the picture for a few minutes, but returned drinking a large Slurpee through a straw. Before he reached the door, two men came in. One wore khakis and a polo shirt with a baseball cap pulled down low on his forehead. The other, dark slacks and a white dress shirt and tie, as if he had just gotten off work. Baseball Cap’s face was averted from the camera.
Did he realize the camera was there?
Huffman and White Shirt had a conversation, before the boy smiled at him and left.
“Stop,” Jade said. “Rewind. Pause.”
She drew closer to the projection screen. Huffman had known him. Without looking at Pat, Jade said, “Can you zoom in on the guy’s face?” She studied the image. Although it was blurry, she recognized him.
“That’s Matt,” she said, her pulse racing. “Zoom in on the other guy.”
Only his chin, lips, and the bottom of his nose were visible. The hat bore an old Redskins logo.
Huffman left. The men followed him soon thereafter, Matt carrying a paper bag.
No one else of note came into the store from then until the time of death.
Jade returned to her seat. “We need to find out who that other guy was, and whether he’s a part of this. Can you try to get a hit on the lower portion of his face?”
Pat nodded. Later, she would attempt to match it with the five hundred million photographs in the FBI’s facial-recognition database. It had taken them an hour to watch the tape.
“What about after the attack?” Jade said.
“I already checked. Nothing. No surveillance camera covered the parking lot out back, either,” Pat said, “but this came from a competing convenience store across the street.” She grabbed another tape, but hesitated before sliding it into the VCR machine. “Do you need a break?”
Jade gave her a look.
They went through the same process as the previous tape, but now the view was of customers entering and leaving the store from the outside.
At 22:45, a woman walked out of the store, as Huffman walked in.
“I don’t remember seeing her on the 7-Eleven tape,” Jade murmured.
A knock on the door.
She didn’t bother to answer it.
Dante opened the door, glanced at the two of them, and then at the screen. He took a seat at the table without being asked.
On the screen, Huffman held the door for the woman, admiring the view from behind as she strutted away. He entered the store. The two men walked toward the store, passing the woman, but not acknowledging her.
After they entered the store, there was no activity on camera, except an occasional passing car. Jade couldn’t see into the store from this angle.
Huffman came out. The men walked out a few minutes later.
Pat stopped the tape without being asked. Jade moved closer to the screen. “Enlarge it.”
She peered again at the nose, the chin, the jaw. If she didn’t know better, he looked like—
Dante moved next to her. “What’s he doing there?”
“Who?”
He pointed to the screen. “Christian.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
Washington, DC
“Shut the door.”
Christian complied and sat down.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Trust is everything,” she said. “To me.”
A painful expression crossed his face, but he said nothing.
“What were you doing there?” Jade asked.
“We met for a drink after work. He needed someone to talk to. Jenny’s driving him crazy.”
“You’re not answering the question.”
“Jenny called him. Asked him to pick up a few things before coming home. We said goodnight, got in our separate cars, and left.”
“It looks bad. You arrived at the scene before I did.”
“Hadn’t gone far when I got the call.” He looked at her. “Jade, you know I didn’t have anything to do with murdering that kid. Any of those kids.”
She didn’t think so. But she’d made up her mind.
“Dante’s going in wi
th me.”
*
In an interrogation room at FBI HQ, she stared across the table at Matt Thompson and his lawyer. Dante sat next to her taking notes. Behind her, Christian, along with Pat, Max, and Micah, observed them through the one-way glass.
After dispensing with the preliminaries, Jade said, “Why were you in the 7-Eleven that night?”
“Like I told the police and you many times already, I was on my way home from the Mercedes dealership in Arlington.”
“Why were you there?”
“I had a meeting with the GM. General Manager. We meet occasionally to discuss sales, promotional tactics. Inventory issues. I didn’t feel like going straight home so I asked Christian to meet me for a drink.”
“Can you state Christian’s last name for the record?”
“Merritt.”
Jade felt Christian’s eyes boring into the back of her head. “And what is his relationship to you?”
“He’s my brother-in-law. Anyway, my wife called and asked me to pick up a few things at the store.”
“Like what?”
“Some chips, popcorn, a liter of soda.” Easy to check. “We were going to watch a movie after we put the kids to bed. A date night. We haven’t had many since . . . ”
His voice trailed off. Jade let the silence hang for a moment.
“Did you know Andrew Huffman would be there?”
“I didn’t know who he was until he started talking. I thought he could’ve been one of Tyler’s teammates, but wasn’t sure. A lot of those guys look alike.”
“What did you talk about?”
“He asked me how I was,” Thompson said. “That he was sorry again about Tyler. He hoped I would make it out to a game next year.”
Jade switched topics. “Don’t you find it strange that every murdered boy allegedly bullied your son?”
He glanced at his attorney. The attorney nodded. “Sure. I won’t lie and say I didn’t want to beat the crap out of them, but I didn’t kill them. Hell, I didn’t even know who all the bullies were.”
“Do you think your wife did?”
