Malicious Pursuit

by KG MacGregor

  Ruth looked at the photo as if for the first time and shook her head. "No."

  "Have you seen this picture before?"

  "No."

  "Do you ever watch the news or read the newspapers?"

  "No."

  "Surely, you’ve seen the news at least once or twice in the last week, haven’t you?"

  "Not that I remember." Ruth needed to stop answering his questions. He seemed to be having too much fun, as though she were playing into his hand somehow.

  "Have you heard about the recent murders at Margadon, the pharmaceutical company in Bethesda? One of the victims was an Albino." That was the sort of information that people would have remembered. "His picture was in the paper too. Did you happen to see that? He looked just like somebody had powdered his face, you know what I mean?"

  This man was despicable, Ruth thought. "No," she repeated furiously.

  That had gotten a nice rise, he thought. One would almost think she’d known Henry Estes to evoke that sort of angry response.

  "’Course, he wasn’t white like that when we found him. He was sort of purple, what with that little hitch knot around his neck." He watched with satisfaction as the woman’s face reddened.

  "Did you happen to know Henry Estes?" he asked. "I mean, you look a little like you’re getting pretty upset at hearing about all this."

  "I’m not used to hearing people talk so callously about the dead," she answered coldly.

  Akers chuckled. "I guess we do get a little desensitized to these sorts of things after a while. But then there’s the other end of that spectrum, where we learn to be very sensitive to things. Over the years, I’ve developed quite a sense of smell, especially for rats. And that’s what I’m smelling here: a rat. See, I’m not buying this story about Roscone. I think you’re perpetrating a hoax on the good people of the IRS, and I’m prepared to hold you here until I learn otherwise. Am I clear on that?"

  "Now that you’re finally accusing me of something, I suppose this would be a good time for me to ask for an attorney." Ruth knew there was no way in hell that her wish would be granted, but she needed a little more leverage against this son of a bitch.

  "I’ll be happy to summon an attorney for you. Who shall I say is calling?"

  "I’m requesting a public defender."

  "You’re getting nothing until I get a name."

  "Then you can consider these my last words to you," she sneered, "Calvin."

  * * *

  Spencer looked at the clock again, miserable to see that only three minutes had passed. Ruth was late – very late. The shopping center at Fairfax was only thirty minutes away, forty-five in heavy traffic, but it wasn’t rush hour. She’d been gone over three and a half hours.

  Even if Elena had called her into the city, she would have known that the others would be worried and she’d have found a way to call Viv or something. And if she wasn’t in Elena’s hands, she was in unspeakable danger.

  "Jessie?" Spencer tiptoed into the bedroom to wake the napping child. "Sweetie, we need to go over to Viv’s. I need to go out. Can you finish your nap there?" As she talked, she gathered the sleepy child in her arms, picking up the Lisa doll and the soft pink blanket the little girl used for her naps.

  Stumbling onto the porch, the pair were met by Viv, who held the door and directed them to the guest room. Jessie settled down quickly and went right back to sleep.

  "Viv, I need to borrow your car. Ruth should be back by now. I have to go see about her. I may have to make a call to my friend."

  "Won’t they be listening? Maybe I should go."

  "No, it doesn’t matter. If those bastards have picked up Ruth, I don’t care what happens to me. I need my friend to get her out before they find out about Jessie."

  "Be careful," the older woman advised, handing over her keys. "And don’t do anything foolish."

  In twenty minutes, Spencer was sitting at the shopping center. There was no trace of Ruth’s car, which at least meant that she hadn’t been picked up while she was on the phone. But if she wasn’t here, where would she have gone? Ruth didn’t know DC well enough to find her way around. She knew the Wal-Mart, she knew the shopping center in Reston where she’d called from last Friday, and she knew the Franconia-Springfield stop on the Metro. And if she’d gone to the city, her car would be there.

  The programmer wheeled the vehicle back onto I-66, hopping onto the Beltway and heading south for the Franconia exit. As she approached the parking garage, she was reminded of Viv’s admonition not to do anything foolish. Driving into a place where it was possible the agents were waiting certainly fell into that category. If they’d figured out who Ruth was, they’d use her as bait. Spencer needed to be smarter than that, for both their sakes.

  Turning off Franconia Road, she stopped in a small strip mall, where a payphone was mounted under the awning near an ATM machine. This needed to be fast, and she needed to be able to get the hell out of there in a hurry. Thankfully, they wouldn’t recognize the Jeep.

  Nervously she dialed Elena’s cell phone and waited.

  * * *

  "Are you sure she didn’t just get cold feet?"

  "I thought about that, Chad. But when I got back here, I found out that Pollard wasn’t in the van," Elena explained.

  Her boss raised his eyebrows in question.

  "I walked over there and knocked on the goddamned door!"

  "And you’re assuming the reason he’s not there is because he went to intercept our informant?"

  "Chad, Pollard is always in the van. Except when he’s sitting in his car watching my house. If he’s not there, it’s because he’s doing something more important. And he just happens to do it when our informant goes missing? You know how I hate coincidences."

  "I wish I had a little more." They had agreed when they got their case together, they would involve the senior FBI field agent who supervised Akers and Pollard, Chad’s equivalent for the Bureau. Chad was certain his counterpart would help if their evidence was solid, but the first instinct of any agency would be to circle the wagons.

  "If we could—"

  The cell phone in her pocket interrupted her thought.

  "It’s a payphone in Franconia," she said. "This is Special Agent—"

  "Where is she?"

  Spencer! "I don’t know. She was supposed to meet me and she never showed." Elena was pacing the room, waving her arms excitedly to let them know who was on the phone.

  "They’ve got her, Elena. You have to get her out of there."

  ""I’m working on it. You need to come in. You’ll be safe here."

  "I can’t!" She had to protect Jessie and Viv. They knew enough to get killed for their part in this. "Not yet. I’ll call you when I’m ready."

  Abruptly, she hung up the phone and raced for the Jeep. She needed to get the hell out of there before the police arrived. She had no way of knowing that the technician who had monitored her call was left without such instructions.

  * * *

  Ruth had been left alone in the room for almost two hours when the two agents finally reappeared.

  "We have great news for you…Miss Ferguson." Akers delighted in the look of shock on the blonde woman’s face. "That’s right. It seems one of the interns in the hallway recognized you from your picture on our recent update and he thought to offer his congratulations for making your arrest."

  Ruth glared at the two of them defiantly. There were no conditions under which she’d reveal where her daughter was. Even if they sent her back to Maine and locked her up forever, Jessie was going to be free.

  "So maybe we should take a step back and re-evaluate your situation. You’ve got a little girl you’d like to keep. You’ve also got some information I’d like to have. Sound like an even trade to you?"

  "I’m not telling you where my daughter is. I don’t care what you do with me."

  "Let’s forget about your daughter for a moment. Hell, just for the sake of argument, let’s assume that I don’t give a rat’s a
ss about where your daughter is. What I want to know is what you know about Spencer Rollins and George Roscone." If she really knew about Roscone, chances were that she wasn’t involved in the Rollins case at all.

  "Nothing! I don’t know shit about Roscone. It was a scam for the reward."

  "How did you know about it?" Was this finally the truth coming out? If it was, it wasn’t what they were looking for after all.

  "I looked it up in the paper. I sat for three days, going through back issues until I found the right story."

  The agents looked at her skeptically, but appeared to be listening.

  "Look, I worked in a bank when I lived in Maine. I heard a story about somebody pulling a scam like this for the reward money. I thought I could pull it off if I strung her along. I need money!"

  For what felt like an hour, the agents traded questioning looks until Akers finally slapped his knees and stood.

  "Take her upstairs and lock her up. And call the boys in Maine to come take out their trash."

  CHAPTER 24

  THOMAS FENNIMORE STEPPED off the Ratheon Beech turboprop onto the tarmac at Augusta Airport, his bulging briefcase in one hand, a garment bag in the other. He didn’t expect to be here very long, and didn’t care if he didn’t sleep tonight. This was going to be great fun.

  The connecting flight from Boston had been delayed a bit, but not enough to crimp his plans. The auditors would meet him at five o’clock at the appliance store – a half hour before closing – where he would present a federal warrant to review the books. If they found what they were looking for, they’d need one more warrant, and Elena was on standby in DC to secure it.

  Following the line of passengers into the small terminal, Thomas unknowingly passed his quarry. Roland Drummond, Sr. and his son Skip were ticketed for the next flight to Washington National, where they would confront Ruth Ferguson and bring their little girl back home where she belonged.

  * * *

  Spencer stormed through the back door of the house, this time without bothering to knock.

  "Viv?"

  The landlady rushed to the back porch for the news. The four-year-old was watching television in the den, already anxious about her mother.

  "They’ve got her. The feds picked her up about three hours ago."

  "Oh, no!" At once, the older woman realized the gravity of the situation. Ruth wasn’t coming back, and it was time to honor the promise she’d made just yesterday. "We have to hide Jessie."

  "That’s right. It won’t be for long, Viv. My friend will get her out before anything happens. But you two have to get out of here before they find us. Is there someplace you can go till this blows over?"

  "We can go to Jerry’s. He’s from the church."

  "Can we trust Jerry?"

  "Of course. We’ve known each other for years. And he has a barn where we can hide the car."

  "Great! How soon can you be ready?"

  "Ten minutes," she answered, pitching the contents of her laundry basket.

  "I’ll put Jessie’s things in the car. Hurry!"

  When she’d loaded a few clothes and all of Ruth’s valuables, Spencer ran back onto the back porch, nearly falling over a laundry basket full of puppies and a bewildered Maggie and Thor.

  "Come on, you two. Let’s go for a ride." She picked up the basket and slid it into the Jeep’s cargo area. The older dogs followed, immediately nosing the puppies to make sure everything was alright.

  Viv and Jessie appeared at the back door, the latter holding her pink blanket. Spencer helped the little one into the back seat and clipped her seat belt. Viv stowed the dog food and a few of her own things.

  "Where’s Mommy?"

  "She’s in the city, meeting some people."

  "When is she going to come home?"

  "I’m not sure, honey."

  "Where are we going?"

  "We’re going to stay with a friend of Viv’s for a little while."

  "Why?"

  "Because," she hesitated, "some people are coming over and we don’t want to see them."

  "Are we hiding from Daddy?" This she understood.

  "Yes, Jessie. We have to hide, but it’s going to be okay," Spencer assured.

  "How will Mommy know where to find us?"

  "I’m going to tell her where we are."

  "Are you going to see her?"

  "No, but I’m going to tell my friend to go see her. And my friend will bring her to us." Spencer hoped like hell that she was telling the truth.

  "I want to go see her too." The four-year-old could tell that Spencer and Viv were worried, and that made her worried too. "I want to be with her."

  "You can’t right now, sweetie. You have to stay with us," Viv soothed, sensing how confused the child must be.

  "No!" she shouted, and started to cry.

  "Jessie? Listen to me, okay?" Spencer said softly. "Your mommy will come as soon as she can. She wants you to stay with us, not to come where she is." The driver strained to make eye contact in the rear view mirror. "Please, honey? It’ll be okay."

  "Will you stay with me?"

  "I’ll stay until we get everything settled at…," she looked quickly to the landlady.

  "Jerry’s."

  "…until we get settled at Jerry’s. Then I need to go tell my friend where we are so your Mommy can find us. While I’m gone, will you help Viv look after the puppies?"

  The child’s blubbering stopped as she stretched to look behind her at the dogs. "Okay," she finally answered.

  "Thank you. I really appreciate you being such a big girl, Jessie."

  * * *

  "Well, look at it this way," Pollard said chuckling. "Diaz still looks like a fool."

  "At least that’s something," Akers agreed.

  The two agents had stopped for a leisurely lunch after the excitement of their morning. Their boss would be pleased that they’d nailed a fugitive, even if it wasn’t the one they were looking for. A collar like that would keep the pressure off them on the Rollins case. The Bureau hated to spend resources and get nothing in return.

  "Why don’t you drop me back at the van so I can check in with the techies? I’ll grab a taxi later to pick up my car."

  Akers pulled over at the curb on Constitution Avenue. "I’m going to head home and get some sleep. I’ll relieve you over at the house about nine."

  Pollard slammed the door and strode to the van.

  "Anything happening here?" he asked casually.

  "Didn’t you get my call?"

  "What call?"

  "I left you a voice message about two hours ago. Rollins called in and wanted to know where the woman was. Diaz told her she never showed—"

  Fuck! Pollard stormed back out of the van to see Akers disappear into the distance. The Ferguson bitch was working with Rollins all along, and they’d just turned her over on a kidnapping warrant. Angrily, he pulled the phone from his pocket, the window indeed announcing a voice message. He placed the call to Akers, dreading the tirade he knew would come.

  "Akers."

  "Cal! The Ferguson woman…she’s working with Rollins."

  "What the hell? How do you know?"

  "Rollins called Diaz about two hours ago to find out where she was."

  "Why didn’t that stupid fuck call and let us know?"

  "He says he did, but the idiot must have dialed the wrong number or something." Pollard wasn’t about to admit that he’d forgotten to check his messages.

  "Stay where you are in case she calls again. I’m going to go get some answers from this bitch if I have to break her arms," he growled.

  * * *

  "Hey, Elena, birthday cake in the break room," her fellow agent announced, jerking her head toward Chad’s office.

  For the last two days, Elena had fought the urge just to yank the bug off the bottom of her desk and crush it with her boot; but they’d all agreed that it was better to work around it than to worry about it showing up somewhere else. Chad’s office was swept several times a
day and deemed secure, so all of their business with the Spencer Rollins case was conducted there.

  "What is it?"

  "We got the dirt on Stacy Eagleton," Lori Pruitt proclaimed with a grin. "She had a little trouble about eight years ago when she worked for Southern Health Supply in Atlanta. They started an investigation into some inventory problems, but they dropped it when she resigned."

  "What kind of inventory problems?"

  "Short shipments, it would appear, a lot like what’s happening at Margadon. But at Southern, she was pulling the cash out of her own budget instead of spending it on her vendors. Southern let it go quietly because they didn’t want to call attention to the shipments that went out under spec."

  "Akers and Pollard must have found out about it and confronted her. So she set up another scheme and cut them in on it," Elena concluded. "Is that what you’re thinking, Chad?"

  Her boss nodded with satisfaction. "Makes sense to me. How are we going to prove it?"

  "Why don’t we pull her phone records and see if she has any calls to these agents?"

  "That’s a start. Have we heard from Rollins again?"

  "No. But I did confirm that the FBI has Ruth Ferguson in custody and that’s she’s awaiting extradition back to Maine. Apparently, they haven’t made the connection between her and Spencer, so we’re good there. But…."

  "But what?" Chad asked, knowing already what Diaz would request.

  Elena looked sheepishly at the other agents in the room, prompting her boss to dismiss them so they could discuss this alone.

  "We’re moving on that case as well. Agent Fennimore is arriving in Madison, Maine right about now to start going over the books at Drummond Appliances. If we have any leverage for keeping Ruth Ferguson here in DC, I’d like to call that in."

  "We’re no match for a federal kidnapping warrant, Elena."

  "Chad, this woman risked her freedom to help with this case. I’m not asking for a pardon here. I’m just asking that we hold her here until Fennimore completes his work."