by Mary Stone
“I’m not holding back any more than I need to in order to avoid compromising this investigation,” he returned. The moment of surprise had passed. “And I didn’t find any of this shit. If you want to know more about it, you’ll have to ask the people who did. The reason you’re here talking to me is because you’re friends with two federal agents, and I wanted to make sure this interview was impartial. I don’t doubt that you’ve got a great deal of respect for impartiality, right?”
“Of course.” The sweet smile laced with cunning was back. The look was as sexy as it was infuriating. “Did you have any other questions for me, or am I free to go?”
“You’ve been free to go this whole time.” Before she could retort, he held up an index finger. “And yes, I know you knew that. Forgive me for not knowing the proper etiquette here. The only people with law degrees I’m used to talking to are lawyers. I’m not used to witnesses with Juris Doctorates. So, I’m not insulting your intelligence because, believe me, it’s not lost on me.”
When she laughed, the hostility dissipated. “Fair enough. Well, I hope that was useful, but I sort of doubt it. If that’s all you had, then I think it’s time for me to go get that giant coffee Winter’s bringing me.”
In the short walk back to the lobby, he thought to ask her about the subject of her dissertation research, but he decided not to press his luck.
Aiden didn’t normally have a problem burning bridges with people he’d never see again, but in addition to the fact that she was Winter’s friend, Autumn Trent was different.
The job offer he’d made to her hadn’t entirely been sarcastic.
As soon as they stepped through the set of double doors and into the hall, Winter leapt up from the wooden bench. He didn’t miss the scrutiny in her eyes as she glanced at him.
“Here,” he said, holding out a business card as he looked back to Autumn. “If you think of anything else, just let me know. Or if you change your mind about working in law enforcement…” He raised an eyebrow.
With a chuckle, she accepted the card and nodded. “You’ll be the first person I call if I decide I want to be a Fed.”
Autumn held her cool visage together until she flicked the deadbolt of her apartment door into place. As soon as the pressure to maintain a cool façade dissipated, her stomach lurched. She hardly managed a greeting to her pets as she hastened down the short hallway to the bathroom.
Up came the last third of the salted caramel mocha Winter had bought for her, but aside from the latte, there was no food for her to throw up. She had spent the previous night waking in fits and starts as her sleeping brain dragged her through one nightmare after another, and the lingering anxiety made the idea of a meal laughable.
What happened when her friends learned about her past? Would they look at her with the same expression of pity as any other friend in whom she’d confided over the years?
Or would they decide that she was not one of them, that her messy upbringing, that the real Autumn Trent was not fit for their company? When they found out she was trailer trash from just another broken home, what then?
When.
There was no doubt that they would find out. The only question that remained was when.
For god’s sake, they were federal agents. Just because all the records of her juvenile experiences were sealed didn’t mean they would stay that way. Especially not now that Dr. Catherine Schmidt had become the subject of an ongoing investigation.
Hell, they probably knew already.
Her ability to tune into another person’s emotions and motivations tended to lessen as she got to know them, though she had no idea why. Maybe as she honed her perception of them, the bizarre, lizard part of her brain grew less keen.
But as soon as she’d clasped Aiden Parrish’s hand, she knew their proposed reason for questioning her was bullshit. They might have been in search of information about Catherine Schmidt, but they had not come across the surgeon’s name during a review of Robert Ladwig.
She wasn’t sure of the real method of the discovery, but she was sure it involved her past.
24
For six weeks, Winter, Bree, Noah, and even Aiden chased their collective tails as they tried to make sense of Catherine Schmidt and Robert Ladwig’s connection. And for almost the entirety of those six weeks, a law enforcement agent had followed Dr. Ladwig’s every waking move.
Winter was sick of thinking about the psychiatrist, sick of looking at pictures of a fifty-five-gallon drum, even sick of looking at the forensic anthropologist’s rendition of their two victims.
They’d searched through Virginia’s missing persons reports but hadn’t found a victim that matched the picture of John or Jane Doe. Though none of them had said it, they all knew they would have to shelve the case if they didn’t uncover a lead soon.
No matter how many times she reassured herself there was nothing she could do at work, she still felt guilty for her decision to take the weekend off.
In a show of solidarity, and in an attempt to alleviate some of her guilt, Noah had even decided to follow suit. When she asked what he planned to do with his time off, he had suggested he use the entire weekend to catch up to her and Autumn in Game of Thrones.
Winter knew that the man held no love for science fiction—no matter how many times Autumn tried to explain Star Wars to him, he merely shrugged and said he didn’t get it. She expected the same would ring true for medieval fantasy, but she had been sorely mistaken.
Though Grampa Jack would give Noah an endless stream of grief for his unwillingness to immerse himself in the world of Star Trek and Jean-Luc Picard, Winter knew Noah’s newfound affinity for Lord of the Rings style fantasy would only endear him more.
Pulling herself from the reverie, Winter glanced up to offer her grandmother a wide smile as she set a steaming mug of coffee atop the polished table. “Thanks, Gramma.”
“Of course, honey. So, what brings you to our neck of the woods on this lovely Friday morning?”
With a sigh, Winter rubbed her eyes. “I needed to get out of the city, away from work for a few days. We’re working on this case, and it’s…it’s just a mess. Well, maybe it isn’t really, but that’s because we don’t have any information about anything.”
“You’ve got to step away sometimes,” Beth replied with a dismissive wave. “You’re not doing anyone any good if you’re running yourself ragged, honey. You’ve got to regroup and come back with a fresh perspective.”
Winter paused as she took a sip of the coffee-hot chocolate mixture. “You know, you’re right.”
“I know I am,” her grandma laughed. “You don’t get to be my age without learning a few things about how to manage stress.”
Before Winter could open her mouth to reply, her phone buzzed against the tabletop. Though she hadn’t saved the number to her contacts list, the area code was local to Richmond.
“I think it might be work.” As she scooped up the device, she glanced to her grandma.
“Don’t look at me,” Beth chuckled. “It might be important. Don’t ignore it on my account.”
“Thanks, Gramma.” Winter flashed her grandmother a grateful smile as she rose to stand. Swiping the green answer key, she stepped around the table to let herself out into the warm summer morning. The sliding glass door hissed along the metal track as she eased it closed.
“This is Agent Black.” Though she used her phone for private calls, she preferred a formal greeting for unsaved numbers.
“Agent Black,” a familiar man replied. His tone was cheerful, almost excited.
Dan Nguyen wasn’t what an average person pictured when they thought of a medical examiner. The man was tall, in good shape, and was always prepared with a lighthearted joke or comment. For the duration of her time with the Bureau, Winter didn’t think she had ever seen Dr. Nguyen in poor spirits.
“Dr. Nguyen.” Winter felt the corner of her mouth turn up in the start of a smile. Noah was right, the weekend away had been a good id
ea. Even after only a couple hours, her mood was better than it had been for most of the past month and a half. “You sound like you’ve got some good news.”
“You’re right,” he said. “I do. You know, I had a whole preamble planned to explain how much work we put into this, but I think you’re already aware of it, so I’ll just start with the good part. We’ve got John Doe’s identity.”
“What?” The response was reflexive, and she almost laughed at how awestruck she sounded.
“I know, right?” He chuckled. “I’d taken marrow from his femur, and we ran it through the system. No surprise, there wasn’t a match, but I had our tech run it again every couple days to see if the states might have finally uploaded to the system.”
Winter held her breath. Like everything, CODIS was only as good as the information uploaded to it, and as understaffed as many sheriff and police departments were, it sometimes took a while for all evidence to be filtered into the Combined DNA Index System.
“Your tech got a hit.” Winter’s hand hurt from grasping her phone so hard.
He laughed. “Damned right we did.”
“You are my favorite person on the entire planet right now.”
The observation only elicited more laughter. “I didn’t do the analysis, I just dug out the DNA and gave it to one of the ladies in forensics. She did the rest.”
“Then text me her name when we’re done, and I’ll send her a fruit basket.”
The identity of one victim might not have been a guarantee that they would find the killer soon, or even at all, but Winter liked their odds a lot better now. Based on the lengths the perpetrator had gone to conceal their victim’s identity, chances seemed good that they would be able to discover a link between John Doe and the killer.
“Vic’s name is Jenson Leary,” Dan started. “The reason you guys didn’t find him when you looked through missing persons is because he didn’t live in Virginia. He lived in North Carolina. His wife reported him missing about nine months ago, right around Thanksgiving. Turns out, the forensic anthropologist did a damn fine job. The picture they came up with matched Jenson almost exactly.”
“Holy shit,” she breathed. “Send whatever you’ve got on him to me. I’m a couple hours away right now, but I’m about to head back.”
“Already done. I sent it to you and the other agents working the case.”
“Perfect. Okay, I’ll stop short of writing you a sonnet here and let you get back to work. Let me know if you find anything else.”
“Sounds good.” He chuckled. “Safe travels, Agent Black.”
“Talk to you later.”
As soon as she ended the call, she pulled up Noah’s number and dialed. Apparently, she hadn’t needed a full vacation in order to stumble upon a viable lead.
“I still don’t know why you needed me here.” Hands on her hips, Autumn glanced away from the sleek dining set to flash him one of her patented, knowing looks.
“Because,” Noah started, sweeping an arm to the host of tastefully decorated clusters of tables and chairs. “Your place looks good, and mine, well. You’ve seen it. It sucks. Figured if there was anyone I’d want with me furniture shopping, it’d be the person who knows how to put a room together without it looking like a college dorm. Which is how Winter’s place looks. She’s got a mini fridge in her room, for the love of god.”
He left off the part about how he and Winter had scarcely seen her over the past six weeks.
Supposedly, Autumn had been dedicating the majority of her waking moments to her dissertation. In less than two weeks, she was scheduled to defend the extensive research project, but Noah and Winter suspected that wasn’t the only reason.
Noah had been the first to bring up the timeline, and he was sure that Autumn’s conversation with Aiden Parrish was behind her recent absence. He had come close to confronting the man about it a couple times that week, but Winter had encouraged him to talk to Autumn instead.
And today, that was what he intended to do.
Both he and Winter had taken the day off to give themselves a three-day weekend, and as luck would have it, Autumn had given herself the day off for a doctor’s appointment that afternoon.
With a faint smile and a chuckle, she shook her head. “All right, all right.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, what do you want your place to look like? Like mine?”
“Like a place where an adult human being lives.” He flashed her a grin. “Like the person who lives there is capable of cooking something more than boxed mac and cheese, you know? Which I am, thank you. I taught myself to cook at the beginning of the year. And now, I’ve got all kinds of shit in my kitchen, but every other room looks like someone put it together with furniture they found lying on the side of the road.”
“So, that’s not the look you’re going for? Furniture roadkill?”
“Hey, it might not be coordinated or even really nice at all, but it’s functional, dammit.” He crossed his arms and huffed.
“Noah, you use a file cabinet as an end table. A file cabinet you got when the FBI decided to do some remodeling,” she reminded him. Finally, there was a familiar flicker of amusement in her green eyes.
“But it’s functional.” Raising his eyebrows, he offered her an expectant smile.
“I mean, I guess. If you need to do some filing while you’re watching TV.”
“See? I knew you’d understand.”
“In that case, do you want to go buy all your furniture from the office supply part of the store?” She was biting back laughter, which made him laugh too. “Instead of a dining room table, we could just put four file cabinets together in a square, and then get shorter file cabinets for the chairs.”
“You’re getting a little extreme now, darlin’,” he snickered. “I don’t do that much filing, all right?”
“Okay.” She waved a dismissive hand. “We’ll find a balance, then. Balance your need for filing with your need for style.”
“There we go.” Before he could add to their sarcastic conversation, he felt a buzz against his leg. Raising a hand, he retrieved the smartphone from the pocket of his worn jeans. “It’s Winter.”
“Tell her I said hi.”
“Will do,” he replied, swiping the screen. “Hey,” he greeted as he raised the phone to his ear.
“Noah,” Winter said, her cadence hurried. “I just got a call from Dr. Nguyen. Forensics identified John Doe. He already sent you all the information about the guy. Listen, I’m in Fredericksburg right now, but I’m about to head back to town.”
“Holy shit,” he managed, eyes wide. “All right, yeah. I’ll meet you at the office. I’ll see what else I can dig up before you get back.”
As he bade Winter goodbye, Autumn’s expression turned curious, and he was struck by an unexpected pang of guilt.
So much for reconnecting with his friend.
25
As Aiden rapped his knuckles against the wooden door, he grated his teeth. He’d never been to the apartment complex before today, and the GPS on his phone had directed him in circles twice before he found the damn parking lot. The building wasn’t in poor shape, but neither could it be classified as upscale.
Based on the whiff of must and stale cigarettes in the hallway, the monthly rent for a one-bedroom was right in line with the income of a graduate student.
Just before the door creaked inward, he thought he heard a resigned sigh. Leaning one shoulder against the wall, Autumn Trent eased the door open with her other hand. As the opening widened, he spotted a little pointy-eared dog tucked against her chest. The pup’s eyes followed his movements, but it didn’t bark.
“Can I help you?” There was more than a little suspicion in her tone, or maybe it was impatience. Either way, his hopes for an easy dialogue were dashed.
“Yeah, actually.” Brows raised, he gestured to the hallway at her back. “You mind if I come in?”
Green eyes narrowed, she stepped aside to give him room to enter.
“Shoes
off,” she ordered. “This complex might be a shithole, but that doesn’t mean my place has to be.”
The light scent of pineapple and vanilla was a far cry from the sour odor they left behind in the dim hall. As he glanced around the spacious living room, he could almost trick himself into believing the complex catered to well-off hipsters instead of debt-ridden college students.
A rustic, stone surfaced coffee table sat in front of an expansive sectional couch, and the television on the matching stand was at least as large as his. Rather than a table and chairs, the dining area off to the side of the open kitchen had been set up like an office.
“I’ve got a doctor’s appointment in an hour.” Her voice snapped him out of the intent observation. “And my car’s in the shop, so I’ve got to take the bus or an Uber. So, make it quick, Mr. Parrish.”
Paws clattered against the hardwood floor as the little dog trotted over to sniff Aiden’s legs. Dropping down to a crouch, he held out a hand before he looked back up to where Autumn leaned against the breakfast bar. “Give me a half hour, and I’ll drive you to your appointment myself.”
Her olive-green shorts ended just above mid-thigh, and the start of a tattoo was visible from beneath the hem. Printed on her loose, black t-shirt were the letters NIN—the logo of a band he knew well from his days in high school and college.
Maybe he’d finally found a piece of common ground that would alleviate some of her suspicions.
Scratching one of the dog’s fluffy ears, he gestured to her shirt with his free hand. “When I was in my undergrad, I saw them in Chicago. They played Hurt, and Johnny Cash walked out onto the stage at the start of it. Easily the best show I’ve ever seen.”
