I looked down at the dead man.
“Jesus,” I said. “This can’t be a coincidence.”
Pat stepped closer and saw what I saw. She scrunched her eyebrows and turned her head to the side and appeared just a perplexed as I was. “Jacob, what’s going on?”
Fifty-three
The sun was up. The temperature was rising. The humidity felt like a blanket of water covering my skin. Welcome to summertime in the nation’s capital. We spent most of the night going through the house, trying to decipher exactly what happened, and more importantly, who it was that robbed the Gomez home. Back at the station, prints were run on the three men in black. We got a hit on all three of them, but the one I was most interested in was the one with the birth mark on his forehead.
I pulled up his profile from our database and saw that he did three years for a previous bank robbery. His name was Andrew Cantwell and ironically enough, he was originally from the Pittsburgh area. I printed his mug shot and went back to Erin and Jack Smith’s neighbor, the one who saw the people moving her furniture the night before we arrested her.
I rang the doorbell. The chubby man came to the door wearing a white collar shirt and red tie. It was early in the morning and I assume that he was getting ready to leave for work.
“Detective Hayden, is it?”
“Yes. Sorry to bother you again at these awkward times of day.”
“What can I do for you?”
I raised the mug shot of Andrew Cantwell. “Is this the man you saw at Erin Smith’s house that night? The night with the moving truck in the driveway?”
He looked at the picture and nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s the guy. Remember I said he had a leaf on his forehead?”
“Right.”
Andrew Cantwell had a birthmark that took up nearly his entire forehead. It literally looked like a leaf had been pressed into his skin.
“So did you catch him?”
“Not exactly.”
I thanked him again for his time.
My mind raced as I headed back to the station. How are Erin Smith and Andrew Cantwell connected? Did Andrew Cantwell help kill Jack Smith? Were he and Erin Smith lovers? Is Erin Smith involved in the bank robberies? Was Erin Smith the one who killed Andrew Cantwell and the other man in black? I shook my head. It seemed like the possibilities could be endless.
But one thing was for certain, even more certain now than ever before: I needed to find Erin Smith.
Fifty-four
Max had been driving for hours. He switched cars and clothes a few miles from the Gomez home. Now he was driving a silver late model Honda Accord that looked like nearly every other sedan on the road these days. In the trunk was over two million dollars in cash. The sun had come up about two hours ago and he was starting to feel fatigued and hungry.
The gun he used to kill his two associates, along with the clothes he wore, were stuffed in a plastic bag with a twenty-pound weight and dumped in the Chesapeake Bay.
Now he’s driving along a lonely country road hours from Washington, D.C. The windows were open and the warm summer air caused his fatigue to grow. Farmland surrounded both sides of the road. A mile ahead he made a left turn onto a long gravel driveway. The driveway lead to a farmhouse that looked to be abandoned. The yellow paint was faded against the farmhouse’s old wood. The windows looked dusty and worn. The roof gave the appearance that a hard wind would blow it off.
Max stopped the car and got out. As he did, the farmhouse’s front door creaked open. Max took a step towards the old house just as the screen door pushed outward. Erin Smith stood on the porch smiling. They haven’t seen each other in weeks. She trotted off the porch and rushed into Max’s arms.
“I’ve missed you, baby.”
“Same here,” he said.
They embraced longer than normal. Erin’s arms wrapped firmly around Max’s neck and his wrapped around her waist. The scene was fitting for a Hollywood movie: the husband comes home from war and the wife eagerly waits by the window. When she sees him, she rushes through the front door and jumps into his arms. Then the music plays, the credits role, the camera pulls back and the screen fades to black.
“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Erin whispered in his ear.
“I am.”
“It seems like it’s been forever.”
“It does.”
She finally pulled back and looked into his eyes. He’s reminded of the first time they met so many years ago. The same vibrancy beamed from her eyes that it was hard for him to look away.
“You did good,” Max said.
“We did good.”
They touched lips and rubbed the tips of their noses together like they always did.
“You must be hungry,” Erin said. “There’s food on the table.”
“You must have been reading my mind.”
Erin turned away and headed for the front door. Max opened the trunk and grabbed the bags of money. Now that his body had time to relax, the bags felt heavier than before. He hauled them inside and threw them on the couch.
He dove into the prepared meal as if he’d never eaten before. He tasted every spice that was sprinkled on the meat. He savored the sweetness of the lemonade and licked his lips while sopping the gravy with his bread. Erin sat at the seat next to him and watched him eat. From time to time, Max came up for air and smiled at Erin. He hadn’t eaten a meal like this in a couple of weeks. The more he thought about it, he really hadn’t eaten much in the past couple of weeks. He’d been so focused on the robberies that food didn’t seem that important. Somehow his brain was able to push hunger aside in exchange for victory. Now that the robberies were over, his body reminded him of how hungry it was.
Nevertheless, he knew that this feeling was short lived, because soon he’d need to move onto plan C. But for now he needed to eat and rest.
When he finished, Erin pushed the plate aside and straddled him where he sat.
“I’ve really missed you,” she said.
She raised her shirt over her head and let it fall to the ground. Max looked down at her perky breasts and thought, what the hell, rest can wait just a little longer.
Fifty-five
Seven hours passed by. Sex lasted fifteen minutes. Sleep lasted six and a half hours. When Max woke up, it was in the middle of the afternoon. The ceiling fan was spinning on its fastest speed, but the room was still warm. Erin wasn’t in the bed with him.
He looked across the room and saw a neat pair of pressed jeans and a grey T-shirt lying over a wooden chair in the corner. He showered and shaved and got dressed. When he went down stairs, Erin was sitting on the couch looking at CNN.
“It’s been on all afternoon,” Erin said.
Max saw the house he was just at earlier in the morning. The footage was an aerial view that showed police cars, ambulances and yellow tape around the house. The footage then cut to body bags being carted from the house.
“This is the worst massacre that D.C. has seen in over a hundred years,” said a female voiceover. “Officials haven’t given a statement yet, but it’s believed to have been a drug deal gone wrong.”
Max shook his head. He knew that was the media’s spin, but that the police knew exactly what had happened.
The scene then changed to earlier in the morning as the sun was just coming up. Max saw Detective Jacob Hayden being questioned. “We aren’t prepared to comment right now.”
“Do you know of any suspects?”
“Again, we’ll hold a briefing later today.”
Then Detective Hayden walked away.
“He looks taller in person,” Erin said.
Max walked over to the bags of money. “You should turn that off. You watch it long enough it might start messing with your head.”
Erin shut off the TV. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “What do you think will happen next?”
“They’ll start looking for connections between our guys. They’ll look into thei
r backgrounds and see what they can dig up. Nothing will stick. It’ll be like throwing dirt into the wind. Everything will just blow over.”
“Aren’t you worried they’ll start putting two and two together? This Detective Hayden caught on pretty quick?”
“I’m not worried.”
“I’ve got to admit, I am.”
“That’s the difference between you and me. I’m always two steps ahead of them. I told you from the beginning what to expect. And hasn’t everything happened just like I said it would?”
Erin shook her head.
“See, no worries then.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Erin repositioned herself on the couch. “It’s just that, that day in Annapolis when Russ died. I don’t know how Detective Hayden knew we’d be there. I mean, when I saw him from across the street, I just knew that we were caught.”
“Carelessness. It won’t happen again.”
“But how can you be so sure?”
“Two reasons. One, I’ve covered my tracks. Anything that’s gone wrong hasn’t been by me. I’ve stuck by my plan and it’s worked. And think about it, who are they really looking for? Not me. It’d be impossible for me to commit such horrid acts of violence.”
“What’s the second reason?”
“No one’s alive to identify me.”
Max’s hands were inside one of the money bags. When they came out, one of them was holding a Smith & Wesson. Max checked the clip and saw that it was full. He re-clipped and turned his head towards Erin.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Erin asked.
“Do you remember the day I proposed to you?”
“Of course. What girl doesn’t remember that day!”
“Do you remember what I said?”
“That I was the only woman that you ever loved and that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me.”
Max clicked off the safety. “I lied.”
“I…I don’t understand…what are you saying?”
“I never loved you, Erin. I was never in love with you. And you weren’t the women who I wanted to spend my life with.”
Tears started falling from Erin’s eyes. “Why are you saying this to me? What do you mean you never loved me?”
“I needed you, Erin, but not in the way you think!”
“What?”
“You reminded me of her, but you weren’t her. And now I’ve got to get her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Everything happens for a reason, Erin. And my reasons happened behind that closed door so long ago.”
“You’re not making sense.” She was now standing up with tears streaming down her face. “Why are you doing this?”
“I just thought you should know.”
Max raised the Smith & Wesson and pulled the trigger two times.
Fifty-six
In all of my ten years on the police force, I can’t think of a time that I’ve been more perplexed than I am right now. I keep asking the questions, but the answers don’t want to come. I’m starting to feel like a dog that’s trying to catch its tail. It just keeps spinning around and around until it finally gets tired and stops. Like the dog chasing its tail, the clues seem to be right in front of me, but I can’t reach far enough to grab them, or at least make sense of them.
Pat and I spent most of the day digging into the backgrounds of the three men in black who were killed at the Gomez home. We learned a lot about them which only gave us a little information on this case. I was sitting at my desk with mug shots of the three dead men in black. In the movies, the audience sees cops huddling around a board with headshots of criminals and red strings connecting one face to another, which somehow shows how everything is connected. Then the star of the movie suddenly gets an epiphany and walks the rest of the cops through said epiphany. Then the next thing you know, cops are making a bust and everyone lives happily ever after.
I had the three photos spread out on my desk. I looked at them and wondered when my epiphany would come.
The facts of the robbery cases were pretty straightforward. Two banks were robbed by a gunman who kidnapped the bank managers during the night. Said gunman also robbed the main Gomez home of what we learned was a million dollars in cash. Those were the facts. It’s what lies in between that gets murky. A couple of things we’ve been able to confirm thus far is that ballistics was able to match one of the guns strapped to one of the dead men to bullets pulled from the bodies of the two Flynn boys and the mother. So that puts one of the gunmen at the Flynn house. The same gun was also used to kill Stacey Windfield’s sister, Kim.
If this were the movies, I would have connected the shooter and the four victims with a red string.
The next thing I had to try and figure out was the connection between the men in black with the Gomez family. With the bank, it’s easy to suggest that the men simply found out who the bank mangers were. They staked them out until they figured it was the right time to strike. With the Gomez family, things weren’t so easy to figure out. Were they connected to the family in some way? How’d they know where to look for the money? Did they have inside help? Unfortunately, no one from the Gomez family was willing to talk.
And the final piece of the puzzle was the Erin Smith connection. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out how she’s connected. How does a woman go from being suspected of killing her husband to being involved in the worst string of robberies that D.C.’s seen in a long time? It doesn’t make sense. Looking at the background of the men in black with Erin Smith’s background, no one would ever put them together.
I rubbed my eyes and shook my head. I was exhausted. I read somewhere that most of our energy exudes more through brain power than physical energy. That’s why someone can sit at a desk all day and be just as tired as someone who works labor.
I put the photos and notes into a manila folder and headed home. Driving home, I took different side roads than I normally would. The encounter with the thugs yesterday bothered me a little more than I thought it would. I kept looking in the rearview mirror to see if I noticed any cars tailing me. Was I becoming paranoid? If you walked in my shoes over the past six months you might be paranoid too.
I pulled up to my house when my phone rang. I looked at the caller I.D. but didn’t recognize the number.
“Detective Hayden.”
“Hi, Jacob, this is Jayden.”
“Agent Davis,” I was surprised by the call. “What’s up?”
“We got a little more info on our men in black and I was wondering if I could come by your station and go over it with you.”
“I just pulled in front of my house. I can meet you back in ten minutes.”
“Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you were home.”
“No worries, just decided to split a little early.”
“Well it’s nearing dinner. Mind if I bring by Chinese? We can go over the case there.”
I hesitated before answering. I looked at my house. Besides my in-laws, I haven’t had anyone over since Theresa’s death. Was I ready to have company over? The question sounds ridiculous if you think about it. What’s the harm in having company over? Especially a fellow officer of the badge. But for some reason, my heart quickened and my palms felt a little sweaty. I got a dry taste in my mouth that I used to get in high school right before I’d ask a girl to dance.
“Sure,” I said, “Chinese sounds great.”
“Perfect. Give me an hour.”
I gave her my address and then clicked off the phone.
I looked at my house again. I remembered the first time Theresa and I saw it. We had only been married for a year when we decided to buy a house. This was the third house our realtor showed us and we fell in love with it straight away. There’s nothing fancy about it, but for some reason, it just caught our eye. Three months later, I was carrying her through the front door as first-time homeowners.
I got out of my car and walked to the front steps. I looked at the house. It
appeared to be looking back at me. The front windows looked like eyes and the front door was its mouth. I know I probably imagined this, but for a brief second one of the windows looked like it winked at me as if to say, “It’s okay.”
Fifty-seven
An hour was coming up quick. I straightened the house and put on fresh clothes. Nothing fancy, just a pair of jeans and pull-over shirt. I freshened my breath with toothpaste in the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. Should I shave? I rubbed my fingers over my skin. Smooth but a little stubbly. I smelled my underarms. They were ok. I stepped back from the mirror and looked myself over. Wait a minute. What am I doing? I feel like a ninth grader about to go on his first date to the movies. Could it be that I have a crush on Agent Davis? I tried to push the thought out of my mind. That’s ridiculous.
The doorbell rang. She’s here. I rushed downstairs a little too eager. My heart fluttered. My palms were sweaty. Get ahold of yourself Jacob. You’re not fifteen. You’re a grown ass man. Act like one. Henry was sitting on the floor next to the couch. He appeared as curious as I was. I gave the room a look over and my eyes landed on the picture of Theresa and me near the kitchen. Suddenly all of the nervousness left and guilt moved in.
What was I thinking?
I reached for the doorknob. My heart still quickened a little. Agent Davis smiled. Ironically a gust of wind blew into the house at the same time she smiled. Maybe it was my imagination.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hi.” I smiled.
I stood there for a second without moving.
“I brought Chinese.” She held up plastic bag.
“Oh, sorry. Where are my manners?” I stepped back. “Come in.”
She came in and I caught a whiff of her perfume. I couldn’t name a perfume brand to save my life, but hers smelled like sweet strawberries. But she stopped short when Henry stood up.
“Whoa, that’s a big dog.”
Behind the Closed Door: A Detective Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers (The Jacob Hayden Series Book 2) Page 13
