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Rules of Crime (2013)

Page 9

by Sellers, L. J


  “Let’s get up to date with leads, then we’ll talk strategy.” She glanced at her notebook. “Our agents found Daniel Talbot this afternoon at his cabin near Gold Lake. They’re bringing him in for questioning now. There was no sign of Renee Jackson at the cabin, but some evidence to indicate Talbot had been at the cabin skiing for a few days. Still, he sent threats to Anderson and could have hired thugs to do the hands-on work, so he’s still high priority.” She looked down the table. “Jackson, what did you find out?”

  “I have a suspect in custody. I had just enough time to bring him in and get over here.”

  Everyone in the room was suddenly more alert, ready to move. Startled, River blurted out, “Who is he? What does he say?”

  “Gus Striker. He attended AA meetings at the Jesco Club with Renee. The group leader said he thought Striker was obsessed with Renee, so I went to Striker’s place and looked around. Through the kitchen window, I saw that he had a picture of Renee on his refrigerator. He came home a few minutes later and refused to let me search his house, so I brought him to the department and left him in an interrogation room. An assistant DA is working on a search warrant for his house, his phone, and his car.”

  “What’s your feel for him?”

  “He’s hiding something.”

  “Good work.” She hesitated, knowing what she was about to say might piss off her fellow agents, but she believed in rewarding those who generated leads and ideas. “After the meeting, Jackson and I will interrogate Striker. Agent Fouts will stay here with Anderson in case the kidnapper texts again.”

  Fouts’ eyes narrowed but he nodded.

  “Anything else new?”

  Schak spoke up. “Renee’s cell phone hasn’t been used since Saturday at three seventeen p.m. T-Mobile pinged it and got no signal. The kidnapper may have destroyed it when he grabbed her.”

  River added, “We don’t have any new information on the burner phones the perps used this afternoon.”

  “You’re saying perps,” Jackson commented. “Are we confident there is more than one?”

  “Not until we hear from him again. But I think so.”

  “How’s Anderson holding up?” Jackson asked.

  “He’s doing okay. His daughter came over and that seemed to settle him down.” Anderson had also been drinking Scotch since she told him his money went into the river. “They’re both in his office. We’ll confer with Anderson soon, but we need a strategy. How long do we wait to hear from the possible second perp before we go to the media to help locate Renee Jackson?”

  “Two hours.” Fouts sounded sure.

  “What if the other perp is still out there, unsure of what to do next?” Jackson countered. “Rushing to the media could get Renee killed. We should at least interrogate both our suspects before we go public. Even meeting here is a risk if the perp is watching the house.”

  “I considered that,” River said, worried but not defensive. “But we don’t know if there is a second person. And if there is, he’s likely guarding Renee and focused on what the hell happened to the money.”

  “Do you think he’ll come back for more?” Jackson asked.

  “I don’t know.” River shook her head. “This is new territory. We don’t know for sure that the money is lost. The courier could have swum to safety.”

  A short silence.

  River turned to Agent Torres, a stout young man who was prematurely gray. “Put together a media list and a generic statement that Renee Jackson is missing. Have everything ready to go. We’ll start interrogations and see what happens.”

  “Did you say you have a suspect in custody?” A twenty-something woman burst through the archway. Dressed in a pale-green business jacket and skirt, Dakota Anderson was strawberry-blonde with dark roots, slender, and striking.

  River envied her obvious sexuality. She also worried about the young woman’s media connections. “We’ve brought two men in for questioning but we don’t have anything solid.”

  Ivan Anderson followed her into the room, a drink in hand. “Dakota, it’s best if you just let them do their job.”

  “But they should keep you informed.” She spun protectively toward her father.

  “They will.” Anderson touched his daughter’s shoulder. “Let me handle this.”

  “What about the ransom money?” Dakota spun toward River, her face tight with tension. “Was it recovered?”

  “Not yet.” River stared back. “Please don’t repeat anything you hear about this case. Especially on the air. Renee’s life is still at stake.”

  “I know that.” Sounding defensive, the young woman spun again and strode from the room.

  Anderson stayed, rocking a little on his feet, the combination of stress and alcohol weakening him. “What do we do now?”

  “We’ll question our two suspects. If we haven’t heard from the kidnapper after that, we’ll go to the media and ask the public to help us find Renee.”

  “What if he expects me to pay again?” Anderson squeezed his eyes closed. “I don’t have access to more cash. I can borrow against my home equity, but that takes time.”

  “He may be desperate and willing to settle for less,” River said. “But just hearing from him will be a good thing.”

  An engine revved in the driveway. River turned to the window and caught a glimpse of a small silver car as it sped down the slope. She was glad Anderson didn’t have a houseful of young children, crying for their mother. But Renee did have a teenage daughter. River resisted the urge to ask Jackson how his child was doing. Not in front of everyone. She stood. “Let’s get moving.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Monday, January 9, 5:15 p.m.

  He had arranged to meet Agent River at the department in an hour, so Jackson thought he had just enough time to stop and see his daughter. He felt like he’d been in nonstop motion for two days already and he really wanted to have a leisurely dinner with Kera. But she would have to wait. His girlfriend had broken up with him recently because he worked too much and canceled too many dates, so he worried about neglecting her. When she’d changed her mind and wanted to continue the relationship, he’d nearly wept with relief. Kera was a bright warm light in his otherwise dark and gritty world. Now here he was again, ignoring her while he worked a case. He put in his earpiece and pressed speed dial #2 as he drove off Anderson’s property.

  She didn’t answer, so he assumed she was taking care of her baby grandson. He left a message: “Hey, Kera. Just checking in. We haven’t located Renee yet but we have some leads. I’ll be working late of course.” He wished he could tell her about the kidnapping but it was still nonpublic information. “I love you.” He was getting more comfortable saying that. Kera said it with ease, but she’d been raised in a commune by a group of free-spirited people. His parents, on the other hand, had been Missouri Baptists who had hugged him often but rarely expressed verbal affection. He was doing his best to raise Katie to be more like Kera.

  Renee’s sister answered the door and Jackson was still surprised at how different they looked. Unlike Renee, Jan was ash blonde, well padded, and sober.

  “Hey, Jan. Have I told you how grateful I am to have you in our lives?”

  Jan just smiled. Another thing that set her and Renee apart. She waved him in. “Tell me you found her.”

  “Not yet, but we have a couple of leads.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep praying.”

  “I’ve only got a few minutes. Where’s Katie?”

  “On the computer. She’s distracting herself.”

  Jackson turned toward the family room but Katie came running. “Did you find her?”

  He pulled her in for a hug. “Not yet, sweetheart, but we have a break in the case.” Guilt and failure worked together to crush his heart. “I found a guy who seems obsessed with your mother. I’m on my way now to question him next.”

  Katie pulled back, eyes flashing. “Who is he? How did she meet him?”

  Aware that Jan was standing by for information
and that neither woman needed full disclosure, Jackson moderated his response. “Your mother was attending AA meetings and that was the last place she was seen.”

  A long silence while they digested what it really meant. Finally, Katie said, “So she was drinking again? But going to meetings. And some alcoholic pervert grabbed her?” His daughter’s face compressed with anger, confusion, and hurt all at once.

  “It looks that way. But she’s not in the suspect’s house and we still don’t know if he made the ransom calls.”

  “What about Renee’s phone?” Jan asked. “Have you tried to locate it electronically?”

  “We sent a ping but the phone isn’t responding.”

  “What about the guy with the money who went into the river?” Katie tugged at her braid.

  “We haven’t heard anything.” Jackson felt overwhelmed. “Listen, both of you. What I tell you is strictly confidential and can’t be repeated. At least until we go public with the abduction, which is our next move if we don’t hear from the kidnapper again.”

  “We understand.” Jan spoke for both of them. “Thanks for keeping us informed.”

  “It’s the least I can do. And now I have to go. We have a suspect to interrogate.”

  “Have you had dinner? Can I make you a sandwich?”

  “I don’t have time to wait.”

  “It’ll take five seconds.” Jan trotted toward the kitchen.

  Jackson hugged Katie again. “As long as I’m alive, I’ll be here for you,” he whispered.

  “I know.” She blinked back tears.

  As he waited for Jan to bring the sandwich, his phone rang. It was Sheriff Walters. “We found a body in the river just north of Coburg. He’s dressed in black like your perp who picked up the money.”

  Ignoring his daughter’s pleading look, Jackson stepped outside. “Any ID on him?”

  “Sorry, no. But he has a Westside Kings tattoo on his right shoulder.”

  “A gang member?” What the hell was a banger doing mixed up in a kidnapping? Jackson wondered. Had Striker or Talbot paid him?

  “Or he used to be.”

  “Any trace of the backpack or the cash?”

  “No.”

  “Where is the body?”

  “On its way to the morgue.”

  “Thanks. Have Gunderson send me photos.”

  Katie stood in the doorway as Jan hurried past her with a brown paper bag. Jackson suspected it held more than a sandwich. A rush of love for the women who made his life bearable filled his chest. Unable to speak, he squeezed Jan’s arm, waved at Katie, and bolted for the car.

  Twenty minutes later, he pounded up the stairs from the underground parking lot, his belly full of roast beef on sourdough and his brain whirling with questions and scenarios. A gang member in a kidnapping for ransom was highly unusual. The thugs ran prostitutes, drugs, and burglary operations. If they abducted someone, they took him out to kill or beat him as a payback. Collecting ransom was too complex, too drawn out compared to the way bangers operated.

  Jackson hurried toward the conference room, hoping not to run into anyone who wanted to discuss the case. He didn’t have the time or patience. But Lammers stepped out of her office as he passed.

  “Hey, Jackson. I could use an update.”

  He turned. “We have two suspects in custody for interrogation. Daniel Talbot, the construction company guy we talked about this morning, is with the feds. And Gus Striker, a lowlife from Renee’s AA meeting, is here in the department.”

  “Any idea of Renee’s status?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could offer more resources but the feds have more money.”

  “I know.” Jackson nodded and turned away. He was already late.

  Schak and Agent Rivers were in the conference room having a quiet conversation when Jackson walked in. Schak gave him a look that said, Where have you been?

  “I’m glad you’re here.” River’s tone was nonjudgmental. “We’re ready to get started. Detective Schakowski will observe the interrogation. If we need to, we’ll switch up after an hour or so.”

  “The sheriff called.” Jackson didn’t bother to sit. “They pulled a body out of the water that matches the description of the ransom courier. He’s got no ID, but a crown tattoo indicates he’s a member of the Westside Kings.”

  “Let’s hope he’s a hired thug,” River commented. “Which means one of our suspects probably has connections to him. Let’s hit that hard.”

  “The medical examiner will send us photos of the corpse. Maybe one of our vice detectives will recognize him.”

  “Is it possible your ex-wife was involved with drug running?”

  Jackson shook his head. “No.”

  “We had a case a few years ago where gang members kidnapped a drug runner they thought had stolen some of their money. They demanded a ransom from his family.”

  Jackson fought to suppress his irritation. “It’s a good thought, but Renee had no reason to get involved in that crap. She makes good money, her fiancé has even more, and she’s never used drugs.” Except alcohol, Jackson thought but didn’t say.

  “Let’s go get some answers then.”

  Striker jumped up when they entered the interrogation room and River was glad he was cuffed. The suspect was six-three and built like a gorilla. On him though, the mass of black curly hair implied crazy rather than primitive. The dirty jeans and suspenders said backwoods.

  “Sit down!” River yelled to get command of the situation.

  “That bastard left me here for hours.” Striker jerked his head toward Jackson. “I’ll fucking sue you.” He turned back to River. “I caught him in my backyard. I think he went in my house too. He can’t do that without a warrant.”

  “Sit down!” River didn’t know or care what Jackson had done. “You have a photo of a kidnapped woman on your refrigerator and no explanation for it. The FBI is going to crawl up your ass and stay there until this is resolved. Get used to it.”

  Resignation deflated his massive chest a size and Striker slumped into the chair. “I don’t know where Renee is. I would never hurt her.”

  She glanced at Jackson. “Are we going to document this?” They both knew the camera was on.

  “Always.” He took out his pocket recorder.

  “Good.” She stated all their names for the protocol, then asked, “Why did you take Renee Jackson’s picture?”

  “Because she’s pretty and I like to look at her.” Striker looked up, defiant. “So what?”

  “You’re obsessed with her and I’m sure we’ll find evidence of that when we search your house.”

  “I’m not obsessed. She’s the only attractive woman at the Saturday meeting and I look at her. So what?”

  “She’s been kidnapped. And you’re going to sit here until we find her, so you might as well tell us where she is and we’ll try to cut you a deal.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Where were you today?”

  He blinked, trying to hide the panic in his eyes. “I drove out to Marcola to see a guy about a job.”

  “Who did you talk to?”

  A quick pause. “Ted Striker. He’s my brother.”

  “That’s convenient.” River rolled her eyes. “Give me his phone number.”

  Striker rattled it off. “He probably won’t answer. He screens his calls.”

  River noticed the suspect’s voice had tightened and he’d lost a little confidence. “Where were you Saturday afternoon around four?”

  “At home.” A pause. “Working.”

  “Can anybody verify that?”

  “My ex-wife called to bitch about our kid so she knows I was home.”

  “It was a landline call?”

  “No, my cell phone.”

  “Then I guess we don’t really know where you were.” River let a little mockery into her tone. “So far you have no alibi for the time of the kidnapping or for the time of the ransom demand.” She turned to Jackson
. “Let’s go pick up a warrant and search his house. We need a little leverage for this conversation.”

  “There’s no need to search my place,” Striker pleaded. “You’ve got the wrong guy.”

  Jackson spoke up. “What are you hiding in there—if not Renee?”

  “Nothin’, man. I want a lawyer.”

  “Fine.” River stood. “Let’s go call yours.”

  Striker looked surprised. “I mean, a court-appointed one.”

  “That doesn’t happen until you’re charged with something.”

  “I haven’t done anything.”

  River heard him think yet. She didn’t actually hear the sound, because Striker didn’t say it out loud, but he thought it so strongly the word popped into her mind. The phenomenon had happened enough times before that she trusted the communication to be real. “What are you planning to do?”

  Striker flinched. “Nothin’!”

  She smiled knowingly and shook her head. “You’re a terrible liar. What are we going to find in your house?”

  “I didn’t kidnap Renee. I’ve never seen her outside of an AA meeting. You’ve got the wrong guy.”

  River wanted to confer with Jackson, who was being awfully quiet. “Excuse us for a moment.”

  They left Striker, cuffed and sweating, and stepped into the hall. “What do you think? You looked in his window. Should we take the time to search his place?”

  “Renee isn’t there.” Jackson’s eyes begged her not to ask questions. “But we should send someone out. Striker may have drugs or they might find his gang connections.”

  “We need to search his cell phone too. Does he have it in his possession?”

  “No. I emptied his pockets when I left him in the interrogation room. His phone is in a bag at the front desk.”

  “I’m going to take a look at it before we let him go.” River expected Jackson to object and he did.

 

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