Fatally Bound

by Roger Stelljes

  She hung up the phone and looked at it. This was a problem. She scrolled her contacts for the number. There was an immediate answer.

  “Yes.”

  “I think we need to have our people pay someone a visit. She may be cracking.”

  • • • •

  Sally nibbled on carrot sticks and sipped from her bottle of water as she took a break from her laptop and crafting language for the president’s upcoming speech on immigration reform. CNN was on the television mounted from the ceiling in the corner. Politically, the news cycle was slow at the moment, so CNN was, as were the other networks, continually coming back to the murder of Sandy Faye in Baltimore and the ongoing Reaper investigation. The Grim Reaper graphics weren’t helping nor were the constant recitations of the biblical verses, which were now coming out. In the last twenty-four hours, the media significantly intensified their coverage. The media lost one of their own as victim number four. This was on top of the previous victim, the daughter of William Donahue. There was blood in the water and a big story to be reported on.

  It had been twenty-four hours since Faye’s murder and very little new had come out beyond another new picture of the killer. The image was a grainy surveillance image from some distance but now the killer was without a beard. That led to a revised drawing of the killer with a clean shaven face. While the image was constantly being shown, there were no new breaks in the case being reported. That wasn’t necessarily a surprise. Sally thought there was little distinctive about the face. You could walk by him on the street and think nothing of it.

  Now retired FBI agents and big city homicide detectives with serial killer case experience were coming out of the woodwork to comment and speculate on the investigation. Someone had ducked their head into Sally’s office earlier in the day to tell her that the Investigation Discovery Channel was now running a twenty-four-hour serial killer marathon. The first three stories on the front of the Huffington Post dealt with the investigation as well. The media was slowly but surely turning up the heat and the FBI task force was feeling it, Mac was feeling it. Drinking tequila shots before coming to bed told her he was feeling the heat.

  The press briefing from later in the morning provided little new about the investigation other than to answer questions and state that the investigation was ongoing. Mac’s and Wire’s names came up and there was constant speculation from the various talking heads on CNN, MSNBC and FOX as to whether the White House had involved itself in the investigation. FBI Director Mitchell attempted to defuse that issue. He acknowledged their role in the investigation but stated that the bureau asked them in to assist. The press remained undeterred. And in Sally’s mind, why would they be? The network correspondents who regularly covered the Justice Department as well as the litany of retired FBI agents commenting on the investigation all stated that in their experience, it was highly unlikely the FBI would bring in people from the outside unless specifically pressured to do so.

  In the case of the Reaper investigation, that wasn’t entirely true.

  When the Judge strongly suggested bringing Mac and Wire into the case, Director Mitchell eagerly agreed, if they wanted in. He wanted the two of them to come back into the fold after the campaign investigation. Perhaps he viewed the Reaper case as another way to get them to come back.

  With nothing new and the speculation becoming boringly repetitive, Sally muted the television and went back to the immigration speech. A few minutes later there was a knock on her door and she looked up to find Judge Dixon.

  “What’s up with your boy?” the Judge asked.

  “I assume you mean Mac?”

  “I do, what’s he up to?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How’s the investigation going?”

  Sally pointed to the muted television, “Haven’t you been watching? All Reaper all of the time, or at least it feels that way.”

  “I’ve been watching but it doesn’t tell me anything. What do you know?” The Judge was fishing for information.

  Sally shrugged, “Nothing really. Mac got home very late last night and was out the door early this morning ahead of me. He was going somewhere on an FBI jet but thought he’d be back tonight. Judge, I don’t get how he does it. He goes for days on end with little sleep when he gets his teeth into something like this. He won’t let it go until it’s done.”

  “He didn’t say anything about the case though?”

  Sally shrugged her shoulders, “He said there was a small break but he wouldn’t share with me beyond that.”

  “What was the break?”

  “I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Why not?”

  “He said something about keeping a wall between the investigation and the White House. I got him to commit to tell me if anything came up that would be an issue for us.”

  “Did he say why he got home so late?”

  “He said something about briefing the attorney general and FBI director.”

  The Judge sat down on the small couch that filled the left wall of her office. “I heard there was a late night briefing as well, which strikes me as odd, unless …”

  “There was some sort of break in the case.”

  “And not a small or minor break either,” the Judge stated. “Small potatoes doesn’t get the attorney general hanging around for late night meetings. I know. So what was it?”

  “Like I said, Judge, whatever it was, Mac wasn’t talking.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  She thought about it for a minute, “There usually isn’t any reason for him to not tell me. He’s always shared his cases with me. From time to time I’ve helped and served as a sounding board.”

  “Except, look where you work now?” the Judge answered, pulling out a cigar and running it under his nose, inhaling the aroma.

  “Did you call the attorney general or the FBI director?”

  “Yes.”

  “And,” Sally replied, rolling her palms open waiting for a response.

  “They both said there was nothing new to report other than they obviously had the newspaper reporter as victim number four and I guess Mac and Wire tracked down another image of our killer from a surveillance camera, again with a hat and sunglasses, but this time without a beard. That’s been on television and online all day.”

  “Maybe that’s what they were briefing the attorney general and director about.”

  “At midnight?” The man shook his head.

  Sally had known the Judge for just a little over a year now but she could read the signs. The Judge smelled something. “You don’t buy it.”

  “No. I’ve called around to some of my other sources over at Justice and they knew little other than there was the late night meeting. It’s very tight lipped over there.”

  “So …”

  “I came down here seeing as how you and that boyfriend of yours are so close.”

  “Well, we do live together so I’d say yeah we’re close,” Sally answered, not picking up on the Judge’s drift.

  “No,” the Judge said, shaking his head. “You’re close. You’re as close as any married couple I’ve ever seen, Sally. You should see yourself watch him and vice versa. You should see your face light up when he calls. You turn into an entirely different person.”

  “I do not!”

  “Hah,” the Judge laughed. “Most of the time around here, you are as serious and driven a person as there is in this building. Just like your boy, tunnel vision. People are intimated by you because you’re strong, smart, a creative thinker and they know the president and I trust you implicitly. Yet when Mac calls, you turn into this girl who blushes and smiles and gets all giddy.”

  “I do not get giddy,” Sally protested defensively.

  “Bullshit, you absolutely do,” the Judge answered, needling her now, having some fun. “And Mac? Same thing. He’s as wired and focused a person as I’ve ever seen. Complete tunnel vision when he’s on the hunt with a total edge. I mean, Mac can be
an absolute prick sometimes. Yet when he sees you, this calm washes over him, he becomes totally at ease. The edge, that disappears.”

  “What’s your point, Judge?”

  “You’ve seen it all day. The media is going ape shit because one of their own was murdered here. In twenty-four hours, Sandy Faye will be a journalistic saint. The press secretary has been getting hammered all day with questions, people looking for updates, answers, information, it’s been relentless. I’ve had press people calling me because they got wind of some conference call yesterday where the FBI had some sort of breakthrough on the case but nobody is saying anything. Something is going on, they’ve got some sort of break and nobody is talking and I mean nobody. Even he didn’t tell you and there is only one reason he wouldn’t, and that’s to protect you.”

  “Or the White House.”

  The Judge shook his head, “No, no, no. Mac doesn’t give a damn about the White House, but he gives a big one about you.”

  “And you want to know.”

  The Judge nodded, “I don’t want to get blindsided. We put Mac and Wire on that investigation.”

  “According to Director Mitchell, the FBI asked them in,” Sally demurred.

  “He was fine with it, of course, eager for it, but you were at that meeting; hell, you pushed Mac that extra bit to get him in. We,” the Judge pointed to himself and Sally, “put them on this damn thing, so we are now invested in it.”

  “I thought the other day you told me it was Thomas Mitchell’s job to deal with Mac and Wire questions. That the White House did nothing more than get two exceptional investigators to help with the investigation. If people had a problem with that, bring it on and all that.”

  “I did.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “What if what they find becomes an issue for us?”

  “Mac said he’d tell me if that happened.”

  “Maybe, but he’s not going to compromise his investigation either and, no offense, but he’s not the most politically adroit. He may not see the issues the way we see the issues.”

  Sally took the measure of the Judge. She could sense the Judge wasn’t telling her everything either. “Maybe Mac hasn’t told me everything, but what aren’t you telling me?”

  “I got a question from a reporter asking me some background on Bill Donahue and his daughter. I could tell by the way he was asking questions that he was fishing, but he had something as well, something he wouldn’t disclose to me, but this guy is a pro and has worked the Justice Department beat for a long time.”

  “Your radar is up?”

  “It is.”

  “What did the reporter tell you?”

  • • • •

  “There’s the BMW X5,” the reporter noted. “That’s the right plate. They are here. Yes!” she exclaimed happily. This tipster had paid off a few times before, but now this tip was leading to the White House and might have the chance to be salacious.

  “How are you going to play it?” the cameraman asked.

  “We jump him, camera in his face. No room to breathe.”

  “You sure?” the cameraman asked warily. “He’s not someone to mess with.”

  “You keep that camera running. It’s the ultimate protection.” Local news was boring and she wanted out. This was a national story and she wanted to get to a national stage. There was no way she was leaving empty-handed.

  • • • •

  Having finished with Kostas, Mac and Wire were walking down the back hallway of the clinic. “Given how Kostas described the change in Donahue, I’m starting to believe it, Mac. These girls might have been involved in that accident.”

  “Donahue’s parents made a similar observation about their daughter, how she changed after that summer, so there is something to it,” Mac answered agreeably. “Whether it connects to this, who knows.”

  “But let’s say they were involved,” Dara posited. “She didn’t call 911, she didn’t do anything for the victim. But she goes back to school, realizes what she did wrong and what? Decides to get her life in order?”

  Mac nodded. “Possibly. She thinks she’s lived a careless life and now, as a result, someone is dead. I need to do something. I need to make a difference. I need to pay for what I’ve done. So she decides to become an elementary school teacher. A life that will not lead to the luxuries she’s had her entire life but a life that could potentially help and impact others. Maybe Leslie Felding can shed more light on that.”

  “So is our new operating theory that these girls had a role in that accident and someone is punishing them for it?”

  “Actions have consequences,” Mac replied nodding.

  “You approve of the Reaper?”

  “No. No, no, no. But I believe in karma, and she can be one angry, vindictive bitch,” Mac replied as he pushed out the back door and the camera and microphone was immediately in his face.

  “Why are you investigating this clinic?” a short blond woman with a microphone asked. “Why are you here?”

  “No comment,” Mac answered, at first surprised by the microphone and camera in his face, but now with his bearings, he walked by the reporter, Wire in tow, heading for his SUV. The reporter and cameraman maintained pursuit.

  “Is it true that the Reaper is targeting women because they had abortions? Were the victims patients at this clinic?” the reporter pressed.

  “No comment,” Mac answered flatly, looking over to Wire who had her head down as they split to get into the X5. He hit the key fob and the taillights flashed.

  “You were going through medical records, right? Seeing what women had abortions, right? Is the Reaper targeting women on that basis?”

  “No comment,” Mac answered again as he reached for the door handle. Another television news van pulled around the back of the building.

  “You have to be here for some reason, Agent McRyan. You’re on the Reaper Task Force. There must be some investigative reason for you to be here at Fallway Medical Clinic?”

  “No comment.”

  The reporter was unsatisfied with Mac’s responses. She wasn’t getting the scoop she hoped for, apparently. He wasn’t saying a thing.

  She needed to get him to talk.

  Then the reporter crossed the line.

  “Perhaps you’re here on personal business, Agent McRyan. Perhaps you and Agent Wire have something to hide you don’t want people to know about? You were inside for quite some time.”

  “Whoa,” the cameraman muttered, but he didn’t stop filming.

  Mac stopped in his tracks and turned, “Excuse me?” He glanced over to Wire who was equally stunned by the question.

  “It’s a simple question. Are you here for personal reasons? Did you and Agent Wire have some ‘personal’ business to take care of? Something you wouldn’t want the White House’s deputy director of communications Sally Kennedy to know about?” the reporter persisted, a feisty young blond, looking for a big scoop.

  Mac was stunned by the absolute brazenness of the question. It was completely out of bounds, “Are you for real?” His anger was starting to show. “I’d be very very careful if I were you.”

  “What business did you have inside then? In the absence of any comment, I can only assume it was for personal reasons, for both you and Agent Wire. Maybe you two are hiding something? Wouldn’t be the first time someone wondered that. You two seem awfully close and you spend a lot of time together.”

  “Mac, don’t!” Wire warned, seeing his face redden but it was too late.

  Mac stormed towards the reporter, angry now. The cameraman stayed close, too close for Mac’s comfort. He put his left hand up to the lens and forcefully shoved the camera out of way, which caused the cameraman to fall backwards and onto the ground. All of which was caught by the other television station, now out filming. Mac got into the reporter’s face, an inch from her nose, “I’d suggest you stop right now.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You really don’t want me angry wit
h you,” Mac answered through clenched teeth. It was a threat, one he looked very ready to follow through on.

  “Oh, really, what happens when you get angry?” the reporter goaded, an evil smile on her face, the cameras still rolling, the microphone picking up his threat. In that moment, no matter how out-of-bounds the reporter was, he knew he’d gone too far.

  She’d gotten the best of him.

  Wire grabbed at his arm, “Mac, let’s go.” She pulled him away from the reporter. Dr. Kostas stood at the back door in horror at what she’d just witnessed. “Get in the truck. Get in the truck!”

  Mac backed away from the reporter, glaring at her. Once in the X5, he quickly backed out and pulled out of the lot before any more damage was done. His phone was ringing. It was Sally. How would he explain this?

  • • • •

  “He won’t pick up for some reason,” Sally reported to the Judge.

  “Let me know when he does,” he answered, picking up the phone, continuing to work his sources.

  Sally walked back to her office and started working on the speech again and contemplated the fact that it was getting late in the day and she was getting hungry, the carrots simply not doing it for her. What she was really in need of, more than anything else, was a beer and a burger. Were Mac not so involved in the case, she would have called to have him pick her up to go to one of the dive bars they’d found. Maybe listen to some live music, even dance a little, although for an excellent athlete Mac had very little rhythm on the dance floor.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Sally’s assistant screamed as she came into the office and grabbed the remote off her desk. “You have to see this. It’s Mac.”

  “What?”

  “Just watch.”

  Sally watched the encounter outside the back of Fallway Medical Clinic with the small blond reporter. “Abortion? That’s what’s motivating the killer?” Sally questioned. “That doesn’t seem right.”

  The confrontation continued with Mac issuing no comments. Then the tenor of things changed.

  “She didn’t just ask that!” Sally squawked in reaction.