Family Ties (John Taylor Book 5)

by Travis Starnes

  That, of course, begged the question of why this was important enough to put in a storage unit all by itself. Its possible someone, even Whitaker, switched out what was in the boxes before Taylor and Graf found them, but Taylor couldn’t see the reasoning behind it.

  Taylor knew he was missing something, but he still couldn’t see it. He was coming at this case sideways, working from the middle out. It was frustrating. Over the last few years, Taylor had gotten pretty good at this thing and usually had a feel for where things were headed.

  This time, he had nothing. Just a bunch of questions.

  He caught a cab back to his hotel and planned on calling it a night. Graf had sent him an email letting him know he could go by the medical examiners' office the next day and, if the medical examiner wasn’t busy, he would talk to Taylor about Frederick’s autopsy and show him the files.

  Taylor lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t really all that late, but there wasn’t a lot that Taylor could do until tomorrow. When Taylor finally fell asleep, his thoughts of Whitaker in danger out there somewhere plagued him.

  Taylor was in the middle of a dream, back in the desert, except Whitaker was with him this time, tied up in one of the caves. Their torturers kept asking why Whitaker had killed her aunt. The bright glow of his cell phone threw shadows across the room, its harsh light making him squint. He was forced to rub his eyes several times before the screen came into focus enough to hit the answer button.

  “Hello,” his voice croaked.

  “John, I’m sorry if I woke you up,” Caldwell said. “I know it’s late over there.”

  “Its fine Senator, I was up anyway.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, John. I’m sure you’ll want to hear this anyways. I managed to speak with someone from the Wissler family just a little bit ago and they’ve agreed to meet with you tomorrow at eleven your time. You’ll be meeting with Albrecht Wissler. I’m not clear on his relation to Loretta’s relative, but my best guess is this is one of the lesser members of the family. They’ll also have one of the family attorneys present and they made it very clear that they are only doing this as a professional curtsy. While I’d never find fault with your methods, I’d advise that you... temper your normal approach.”

  “By temper, I take it that I shouldn’t go barging in headfirst like normal.”

  “Please don’t take it as a criticism, I just have the feeling that they’ll look for any reason to shut the interview down.”

  “No offense was taken, Senator. Whitaker regularly pointed out the issues with my normal approach. Heck, if she were here, I’d let her take this meeting without me, or at least try and stay silent through all of it. I’ll be good.”

  “I’m about to step into a fundraising dinner, but don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else. I’ve been praying for you and Loretta.”

  “Thank you, Senator. That means a lot.”

  She hung up, and Taylor set his phone back down, fully awake now. Now he had two leads to follow up on, although he wasn’t sure he could get anywhere with the family. The Senators' warning, coupled with the facts that he did know of Whitaker’s investigation, suggested to him that if Frederick's death was more than the natural causes, as the M.E. had ruled it, then the most likely suspects would be in the family itself.

  From what he’d been able to find so far, the family business and family social functions were the only real professional or personal contact that Fredrick had. The problem was that was just a wild ass guess. There wasn’t anything even suggesting they’d have a reason to off Frederick, let alone that they’d done it. Since Frieda’s death was almost certainly tied up in her investigation into Frederick, that would mean they’d also have to have her killed.

  If they were passing Taylor to a lawyer and a flunky, it seemed like a long shot that they’d actually give up anything that would help him along.

  Taylor was once again awake, staring at the ceiling, struggling to fall asleep.

  When morning finally came, Taylor was worn out. He’d taken hours to fall back asleep, and the dreams had returned. He’d managed to get over the worst of his nightmares years ago as he learned to cope with his PTSD, and it had been almost a year since his last nightmare. Even Whitaker’s leaving him hadn’t triggered their return. The one last night was particularly bad, with Whitaker as a supporting player, and had left him shaken.

  He pushed the thoughts aside as best he could and tried to focus on what he needed to do. His first step was the Medical Examiner’s office. It was located in an ugly, squat cement building nestled in the middle of a block of businesses with a large roll-up door on one side. Except for the small sign next to the door, Taylor would have assumed this was some kind of warehouse.

  A security guard sat at a desk right as he came in and found Taylor’s name on a list. Taylor waited for nearly half an hour before an older man with wild, grey hair came out wearing a stained doctor's coat.

  “Herr Taylor?”

  “Yes,” Taylor said, standing up.

  “I am Doctor Petzold. Leftenant Graf called ahead and asked that I speak with you. If you’ll follow me, I’m very busy today, so let us make this quick.”

  While his German accent was very thick, the man spoke with a very British inflection, making him sound almost like a caricature of old British WWII films Taylor remembered seeing as a kid. The doctor lead Taylor through a row of corridors, past examination bays, and offices, eventually ending up at a fairly nice although spartan office.

  The doctor went around and sat behind the large desk and indicated that Taylor should take one of the seats opposite.

  “I’m to understand you have questions about the death of Frederick Wissler?”

  “Yes. I wanted to know more about how he died. His widow was concerned enough about his listed cause of death that she hired an outside investigator to look into it. I was hoping you could shed some light on why she thought that was necessary.”

  “I cannot tell you what caused Frau Wissler to doubt our findings, beyond saying that I have seen unusual reactions from grieving family members before who are unwilling to accept their loved one has passed away. Admittedly, that type of disbelief is usually based on the loved one dying from an overdose or self-harm and not an old man dying from natural causes, but people react oddly to the death of loved ones.”

  “So, there was nothing unusual in this case?”

  “Beyond Frau Wissler’s insistence? No. I didn’t perform the initial autopsy, but I did look the case over thoroughly and discuss the case with Doctor Niehaus, who performed the initial examination. Nothing in the case stood out. Herr Wissler was in poor health, suffering from the effects of Alzheimer's along with high blood pressure and a fairly severe heart arrhythmia. His actual cause of death was Hemorrhagic stroke, which is when a blood vessel ruptures and leaks blood into the brain. While this type of stroke is a common concern for patients with high blood pressure, it is even more common for someone suffering from Alzheimer's. The disease often causes micro-bleeds into the brain as part of the ongoing deterioration. Doctor Niehaus recorded signs of these types of bleeds in Herr Wissler.”

  “Do you always do autopsies for elderly patients?”

  “Not always, but it also isn’t uncommon. Since no one was present for his passing and he wasn’t under active hospitalization, an autopsy was ordered. Had he passed in a managed care facility or hospital, then an autopsy would most likely not have been done. I want to understand, nothing in this case, beyond Frau Wissler’s accusations, is out of order. I’ve been a medical examiner for twenty years, and I can tell you that Herr Wissler’s death was completely ordinary. His cause of death was completely ordinary and the timing of his death in relation to his disease's progression was not unexpected. The only issue out of the ordinary was the length to which his widow was willing to go to feed into her denial.”

  “What do you mean by extraordinary lengths? This can’t be the first time a family member disagreed with a listed c
ause of death and pressured you to change it or re-investigate.”

  “No, it isn’t the first time, but normally those families limit the pressure to personal pleas or legal appeals. Frau Wissler didn’t stop there, as you know. At first, she tried calling and having her lawyers send requests, all of which were reviewed and answered according to our policies. The difference here was when she started having investigators look into our work, specifically the woman Leftenant Graf told me you were looking into. When we denied this woman access, as we should have considering she is a foreign national without authority to review official functions, she managed to pull strings to come in and question our work. Much like you did, in fact.”

  As he talked, Petzold became more agitated until the last sentence was said with particular vehemence.

  “I’m not questioning your work, Doctor. I’m trying to find that investigator who’s now gone missing. To trace her movements, I need to understand what she thought she was looking for. When I ask about the questions, they asked you, that’s all I’m trying to do. I’m not in any way doubting your work. When you said she pulled strings, what do you mean?”

  “The day after she first showed up and was denied access to Herr Wissler’s files, I received a call from my bosses boss, who instructed me to allow this Agent Whitaker and a woman named Grace Sharp access to the files and answer any questions. When they showed up, it was clear that Sharp was the one with the connections. She wasn’t actually interested in the case and seemed to have come along to help Agent Whitaker if we made any protests.”

  “Did your boss tell you who Mrs. Sharp was?”

  “No, just that we were to give her access.”

  “Can you show me the files they looked at?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think you’ll find anything of note. Even after they looked over all of the files in the case and asked me questions about why I made this or that conclusion, Agent Whitaker seemed frustrated. Whatever she thought had happened to Herr Wissler, she didn’t seem to find it.”

  “Can I see the files they looked at?”

  “Yes, I have them here,” Petzold said, handing over a folder thick with sheets of paper.

  Taylor looked through the pages, finding that the information here matched everything he’d seen in the police files, at least the parts he understood. There was a fair amount of medical jargon that went beyond Taylor’s area of expertise. What was apparent, however, was that there wasn’t anything here that would shed light on what Whitaker thought had actually happened. Just that she’d been looking for some kind of proof.

  Thanking Doctor Petzold, Taylor left the office. While he didn’t find out what Whitaker was looking for directly, he did at least get one new piece of information. The name Grace Sharp seemed familiar to Taylor, although he wasn’t sure exactly where he’d heard it before.

  It was, however, one more lead. Sharp had been with Whitaker at the medical examiner’s office the day before her aunt’s murder, which meant Sharp might have an idea where Whitaker might have gone. Now he just had to remember where he’d heard the woman’s name and track her down.

  Chapter 6

  Taylor thought about the name 'Grace Sharp' all the way back to the hotel, trying to place where he’d heard it. By the time he got back, he still hadn’t placed it, but he did remember it had something to do with Whitaker. He couldn’t remember if it was a personal connection, or a work connection. Still, knowing Whitaker, their connection was almost certainly through work. Even after they got together, Whitaker always spent more time working than socializing. Taylor could only think of a handful of non-work friends, most of whom she saw only occasionally.

  Assuming it was a work connection, Taylor called Joe Solomon. It took a little bit after the secretary put him on hold, but eventually, Joe answered.

  “Did you find her?” Joe said as soon as he picked up the phone.

  “Not yet, but I came across a lead I can’t place. Does the name Grace Sharp sound familiar to you?”

  “Hold on a second,” Joe said.

  Taylor could hear a keyboard in the background for a minute, meaning Joe was looking her up in one of the FBI’s databases.

  “She used to be one of ours working in Intelligence. She retired a year and a half ago, and last year she registered as a consultant for the German foreign office. Our records indicate she’s living in Berlin. Do you have information that she’s connected to any of this?”

  “Some. When Whitaker was looking into her uncles' death, before her aunt was murdered, Sharp helped Whitaker get access to his autopsy and accompanied her to the medical examiners' office. What did she do in Intelligence?”

  “I didn’t know her personally, so I’m just going by our records, but it looks like she was in information warehousing and sharing, specifically liaising with EU nations. Her last year here, she was the point person working with the Bundespolizei, the German federal police force. That probably explains how she got the gig consulting with them after her separation.”

  “Anything in her records about how she and Whitaker might be connected or a clue of how she got involved?”

  “No, but it’s unlikely there would be. Whitaker was never assigned to Intelligence, but she’s worked with them before, so they could have met there. Then again, they could have met through mutual friends or a hundred other different ways. Whitaker never mentioned her to you?”

  “Maybe. Her name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. If she had mentioned her, it wasn’t often or only in passing. Otherwise, I’m sure I’d remember.”

  “How’d you end up with her name?”

  “I went to see the M.E. to try and backtrack Whitaker’s investigation, to see if I could work out where she’d be going next. Sharp pulled some strings to get Whitaker in the door and accompanied her when they went to look at her uncle’s records. Like I said, her name seemed familiar, but I wasn’t able to place her. Can you send me her contact information?”

  “Yeah. Anything else happening?”

  “We found a storage locker Whitaker rented after her aunt’s murder. I was with Graf, and three guys jumped us. Graf took a flyer in the arm, and one of the men got away. Graf’s men are going over the files Whitaker had in the storage locker now.”

  “Were the men there specifically for you?”

  “Either that or they knew about the locker and were waiting for someone to come along and open it. Either way, they’re connected. No way it was a coincidence.”

  “Do you know who they were?”

  “Not yet. Graf is running their prints, and I asked an old friend to do some checking in areas outside of what Graf would have access to.”

  “Be careful with that. The Germans can be just as touchy as we are when it comes to outsiders messing with their investigations. Honestly, I’m still surprised they were the ones who asked for you to be involved.”

  “He’s been keeping me at arm's length. I wasn’t going to tell him about my separate checks unless they turned up something.”

  “Good. What about the files you found.”

  “I got a chance to look through them already, there was nothing noteworthy, at least not that I can see. I’m honestly not sure why Whitaker stashed them in a locker. They were pretty mundane.”

  “She almost certainly had her reasons. I’ve never known Loretta to do anything on a whim, at least not without someone else’s influence. Be careful out there, John. A lot about this still smells bad.”

  Taylor let the dig about ‘someone else’s influence,’ which was a clear record to himself, slide.

  “No, kidding. None of this adds up yet. I’m missing something, but I’m not sure what it is.”

  “Good luck and call me if you need anything else.”

  Taylor hung up and marveled at the conversation he just had. He and Solomon had never been on good terms. Truth be told, Solomon would have preferred Taylor never being involved with the Bureau and was forced to deal with him only out of Taylor’s minimal celebrity after the
killing of Qasim. That was almost certainly the least acrimonious conversation the two men had ever had.

  Solomon sent Sharps contact information after a few minutes, including office and home numbers, as well as her basic file. It wasn’t the full file Solomon had been looking at, but it was basic biographic details and a picture. The picture, more than anything, was going to be useful, since Taylor didn’t know what Sharp looked like yet. A secretary answered at the office but said that Sharp had taken some personal time and wasn’t expected until next week. Taylor left his name with the secretary and told her it was urgent, and to try and get the message to Sharp. From the tone of the woman’s voice, it seemed pretty certain that wasn’t going to happen.