by C. J. Cross
Pushing past Cramer, Jake stalked toward the door, grabbing his cell phone on the way out. The beeping voicemail button caught his attention. Jake couldn’t remember the last time someone actually left a voice message. His curiosity was piqued when he saw the message was from Dr. Gray. He motioned Cramer over as he hit the speaker button and pressed play.
Dr. Gray’s voice was breathless with excitement. “Shepard, I think I found him. Call me back.”
Grumbling, he hit the redial button, knowing this was all part of her strategy. If she’d given him the name, he could’ve left her out of it. She didn’t seem to consider that maybe he was doing it for her own good.
She answered on the first ring. “Where have you been? I called you hours ago.”
“I was tied up. You have a name for me?”
“Yes, but are you sure we can discuss it over the phone?”
“You watch too many detective movies, Doc.”
He could practically hear her rolling her eyes.
“His name is Anson Barnes. He checked out three titles that fit the profile during our timeline.”
Jake was back at his desk, typing the name into the system. “Got anything else for me?”
“A home address, according to his library card.”
Library cards were still a thing? He kept that thought to himself. “Give it to me.”
Dr. Gray rattled off the address. Jake jotted it down, put Dana on speaker, and set the phone on his desk. With a few strokes of his keyboard, Jake had Anson Barnes’ profile staring back at him. “Well look at that. Our book worm has an arrest record. But it seems he doesn’t live in DC anymore.”
“Where is he now?” Gray asked.
“Current home address is listed as Las Vegas, Nevada.”
“Vegas?” She huffed into the phone. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Our system shows the books were checked out a few months ago.”
“Maybe your system is wrong.”
“It’s not.”
“How can you be sure?”
“You carefully catalog your evidence, don’t you?”
He hadn’t missed the clipped tone of aggravation in her voice. “Yes.”
“Well, we keep track of our books with the same precision. The dates aren’t incorrect.”
“Point taken.”
“What was Mr. Barnes arrested for?” The anticipation in her voice had returned.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Actually, I do.”
Cramer moved behind Jake’s desk to get a better look at the man’s arrest record as Jake rattled it off. “A couple of B and Es, carjacking and my personal favorite, illegal possession and distribution of pornography.”
Cramer’s face wrinkled in disgust. “Sounds like you found yourself a real winner.”
“It could explain the staged crime scenes,” Jake offered.
“I don’t believe the crime scenes were staged,” Gray argued.
“That may be so, but we have to explore all options. Let me look into this guy and see if we can confirm his location.”
“Then what?”
“Then I go knock on some doors.”
“You mean we go knock on some doors. I want to come.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jake warned. “Besides, it might not even come to that.”
Before she could argue, he hung up the phone and looked at Cramer. “Looks like I’m going to Vegas.”
“Go home and get cleaned up. I’ll make sure the plane is ready for you and Dr. Gray.”
Jake stopped short. “You want me to take her with me? Into the field?”
“Didn’t you already do that when you took her to the crime scene?”
“That was different. Besides, she didn’t do so well.”
“She found evidence that led you to a suspect, didn’t she?”
Thinking of how she’d almost passed out made a surge of protectiveness flash through Jake. “She’s been helpful so far, but I don’t think Vegas is going to be her scene. She’ll be safer if she stays in the library.”
“She goes with you. That’s an order.”
15
As the plane approached Las Vegas, Dana couldn’t quell her excitement.
Despite Jake’s numerous warnings, she’d gotten her hopes up that this was their guy.
At first, she’d had her doubts, but when a deeper search into Anson Barnes’ most recent credit card purchases revealed suspicious activity, she couldn’t deny he was a viable suspect.
Digital forensics had verified he was using illegal pass-through accounts associated with the dark web; something she knew of, but not how to navigate. To her knowledge, it attracted exclusively sinister activity, including the purchase of drugs like nightshade.
They hadn’t been able to find that Barnes had made any purchases for the drug or other similar substances. That would’ve been too easy. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t.
The fact he was using such complicated methods to disguise his financial transactions meant he was hiding something.
The discovery had thrown Dana for a loop. It was hard to ignore all the evidence pointing to Anson Barnes, but she still found herself unable to believe her parents had been mixed up with the sort of crowd Barnes associated with. But how well had she really known them? She’d been just a kid when they’d died. There could have been all sorts of things they’d kept from her.
Dana pushed her doubts away. Anson Barnes might be to blame for the current case she was working on, but she had a hard time accepting he was responsible for her parents’ deaths, no matter how similar the crime scenes were.
For one thing, he was too young.
Anson Barnes was thirty-seven. That would’ve made him barely eighteen at the time of her parents’ death. Not impossible, but unlikely. Dana flipped through his file again. Even now, he was scrawny. She found it hard to believe that he could’ve overpowered her father and mother. Sure, the element of surprise might’ve worked in his favor, but not against two people.
Her mind worked through endless scenarios of how it might’ve gone down. Had her mother been surprised and used as leverage against her father? Were they both poisoned somewhere other than the hotel room? Had they been the targets or just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Did the killer work alone or have help?
Questions like these were a constant for Dana, and often why she filled the majority of her time with tedious research. It was in the silent, idle spaces like these where her mind was free to flood her with horrific hypotheses about who had taken her parents from her.
She was no stranger to these morbid imaginings, but one thing had changed. Now the previously faceless assailant took the form of Anson Barnes. The problem? No matter how hard she tried, Dana couldn’t make the image stick. But that’s why she was on this flight to Las Vegas. To find out once and for all if Anson Barnes killed her parents.
Heart pounding with anticipation, Dana glanced over at Jake, wondering how much longer she could keep the truth from him. She’d thought about telling him why she was so invested in solving this case when they’d first boarded the private flight, but Jake had fallen asleep almost immediately, and the moment passed.
Dana couldn’t help being envious that he’d taken advantage of the flight time to catch up on sleep. She hadn’t had much since the FBI Agent walked into her life, but she was used to surviving on little sleep. Besides, she was too wired to rest when answers finally felt within reach.
As the bright lights of the Las Vegas Strip approached, Dana’s chest tightened with anticipation. Though her research had taken her all over the world, she’d never been to Las Vegas. She’d always wanted to go; ever since she saw the magnet on her parents’ refrigerator. Her mother told her it was a souvenir from their wedding. Dana had always loved her parents’ wedding story. Her mother had told it to her so many times it became as familiar as a fairytale.
Her parents met at a party. Her father had been playing guitar. When her mot
her saw him, their eyes locked, and it was love at first sight. They went out to get waffles at midnight and stayed up until sunrise talking. Her father dropped her mother off at home, only to show up a few hours later with an engagement ring he pawned his guitar for. He barely managed to propose before Dana’s grandpa chased her father off the property. Her mother’s parents opposed the marriage because they were so young. But being desperately in love, they eloped to Las Vegas rather than wait.
The tale had always reminded Dana of Romeo and Juliet. It wasn’t lost on her how ironic that was, considering the name assigned to the current case she was investigating. But that was even more reason for her to believe that her parents’ death had been a part of something sinister.
It always bothered her that the police had labeled their death a murder-suicide and simply shut the case. Dana just couldn’t accept that her parents would have planned such an end to their epic love story. It didn’t make sense. Her parents ran away to get married. They would never voluntarily end their lives. They were too much in love.
Others might argue that love made people do irrational things, but Dana chose to find beauty in the illogical. Science was full of such examples: males of the seahorse species birthing their young, an immortal species of jellyfish, snails that slept for three years at a time.
The list was endless. It was an argument Dana used often to defend occult studies. If there was so much that wasn’t understood about their own world, how could people close their minds to the possibilities of a seemingly supernatural ideology?
The plane touched down, jostling Dana from her thoughts. The squeal of the brakes woke Agent Shepard from his sleep. Gone was the peaceful, calm expression that softened his features during sleep. His hardened mask of a government agent was back, pushing away any inclination Dana had to tell him about why she was really here.
16
After a short ride from the private airport, Dana followed Agent Shepard into the Las Vegas police headquarters. The bare, beige walls were a welcome change from the bright flashing lights of the Strip.
She’d always thought herself well-traveled, but nothing had prepared Dana for some of the sights she’d witnessed during the drive.
Showgirls paraded down the street in high-heels and practically nothing else, inebriated tourists drank slushy beverages from neon cups as they stumbled down the sidewalk, prostitutes waved their wares to those cruising the Strip, and people spilled out of casinos, blinking like prairie dogs at first light. All the while, the police stood by calmly monitoring the chaos.
“Are you sure they’re going to be able to help us?” Dana asked Shepard as they waited to be buzzed out of the busy police station booking room. It was currently full of drunks and hookers. Dana’s eyes lingered on a handcuffed man in a batman costume who’d just vomited into his lap. “They seem like they have their hands full around here.”
“The FBI maintains a working relationship with local PD when in their jurisdiction.”
It wasn’t an answer to her question, but she knew enough about Shepard to see he was in business mode and not in the mood to play twenty questions. Keeping her mouth shut, she followed him further into the precinct when one of the Employees Only doors buzzed open.
It was much quieter away from the people being booked. They were shown to a small room and told to wait for their officer liaison. Dana sat down and took the moment to get her bearings. She couldn’t quite believe where she was. She didn’t spend a lot of time “in the real world” as Shepard would say, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a place for her here. Moments like this made her wonder what career path she might’ve chosen if her life had been left to follow its natural course.
“Agent Shepard, sorry to keep you waiting.” A thin man strode into the room, hand extended.
“No problem at all, Sheriff Bishop. Thanks for making time for us. This is Dr. Gray. She’s assisting me with this case.”
Dana stood, but before she could shake Bishop’s hand he turned back to Shepard, frowning. “I wasn’t aware you were bringing your own forensics team.”
“Oh, she’s not with the FBI. Dr. Gray was called in to help with possible ties to cult activity. She’s good with the witchy stuff,” he added patronizingly.
“Actually, I have PhDs in Cultural Studies and Religious Philosophy,” she corrected. “So I’m a little more than good at the witchy stuff.” Throwing a glare at Shepard, she stepped around him to shake the police chief’s hand. “I’m the curator of occult rituals and artifacts at the Smithsonian. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Bishop’s wide smile gleamed under the fluorescent lights. “The pleasure’s all mine.”
“Let’s get down to business,” Shepard interrupted. “We’re here to investigate Anson Barnes.
Bishop nodded. “Yes, I got the briefing you sent. What do you need from us?”
“For now, I need some local manpower, backup if this guy rabbits. I want to surveil his home address, usual haunts, speak to known associates. The plan is to tail this guy in case he’s working with others.”
Bishop grinned. “We got you, Agent Shepard. I’ll have my guys on Barnes like sweat on a whore in church.”
“Perfect. When can I meet the team? I’d like to run point on the task force. We need to get started right away.”
17
Glaring out the window of his twenty-eighth floor hotel window, Jake took in the busy Strip below. From so high above, the people looked like drunken ants stumbling over each other to get to the next flashy thing. With a grunt, he closed the drapes, blocking out the harsh Nevada sun.
Jake hated Vegas. It was nothing but a hedonistic paradise for gamblers and sinners. That and it was also only a stone’s throw from his hometown. He’d grown up in Ellsworth, a little blip of desert town that had popped up thanks to Nellis Air Force Base. The base was only a few miles from the Strip, so of course as a rebellious teen, he and his friends would escape to Vegas to blow off some steam.
It wasn’t that his memories from those times were all bad, but he shared most of them with Ramirez, and that made looking back painful. So was the fact that he was so close to home. Jake felt guilty that he hadn’t reached out to his family. Shutting everyone out while he dealt with what happened to Ramirez was the only way he knew how to cope. His mother and uncle understood, but that didn’t make it fair. And being this close to them now only made his guilt weigh on him more.
Jake let his mind wander to a time when this case would be over. Maybe he’d tie it up neatly right here and make a quick trip up to see his family before heading back to DC. His Uncle Wade had retired from the Air Force a few years back, but he still couldn’t bring himself to move away from Nellis and the familiar comforts that came with living near a functioning military base.
Much of Nevada was designated for US military use. That’s what happened when land was cheap and uninhabited. It was a fine place to serve out your base life years, but now that his uncle was a civilian, Jake wondered why he didn’t move somewhere more hospitable.
He’d tried for years to get his mother and Wade to move to the Florida Keys. Jake had gone once on leave with a fellow private. The guy’s brother was retired special forces and ran a fishing charter business. Crystal clear water, palm trees, ice cold beer, running Reds all day. It had been the best five days of Jake’s life. Which was pretty sad, now that he thought about it.
The Keys had always been the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow to Jake. He promised himself, someday when all this was over, he’d end up there. Having his mother and Wade there would only make that dream more likely to become a reality.
But Jake didn’t have time for wishful thinking at the moment. He pushed the useless thoughts from his head to focus on the task at hand. He’d settled into his hotel room, showered, and would soon rendezvous with Dr. Gray to take a ride by Anson Barnes’ place.
Bishop had assembled an acceptable task force, and Jake had assigned a team to Anson’s address already, but he
was a hands-on kind of guy. Jake’s lips tugged at the corners as another nugget of Wade’s wisdom came back to him. Consider a stone unturned unless it was your hand that did the turnin’.
Embracing the warmth the fond memories of his uncle filled him with, Jake finished dressing in a clean shirt and tie. A quick glance at his watch told him he only had a few minutes to scarf down the room service meal he’d ordered before meeting Dr. Gray. He lifted the lid, revealing the now cold cheeseburger. Shrugging, he polished it off quickly. Jake had eaten worse in his life. To him, food was food. He’d learned being a diligent agent had its perks. Hot meals weren’t one of them.
Ten minutes later, Jake was walking through the casino floor to rendezvous with Dr. Gray. The ding-zip-whiz of the slot machines added to his growing headache, and the pungent smell of stale cigarettes and air fresheners reminded him how useless showers were when staying at a Vegas hotel.
One pass through the casino floor and he smelled like he’d pulled an all-nighter at a strip club. And of course, the only way out was through the casino. God forbid the House lost out on a single opportunity to snatch at your purse strings.
Jake found Dr. Gray waiting for him at their arranged spot next to a bank of Lucky 7 slot machines. She looked like a statue in a river of neon lights as she stood rigidly amid the chaos of the casino. If Jake wasn’t so tired, it would have been comical.
“Did you get anything to eat?” he asked when he approached.
“Waffles.”
“Waffles?”
“It’s an inside joke.”
Jake wanted to ask her to elaborate, but she spoke absently as she gazed around the hotel casino like she was at the zoo.
Again, his instincts told him she shouldn’t be here. He preferred to work alone, but that wasn’t the only reason he hadn’t wanted to bring the good doctor along. Jake didn’t want to play babysitter. If she got hurt on his watch, he’d never hear the end of it. Since she was already here, he had to man up and make the best of it.
