Illegal Contact

by Becky Harmon

  The woman who slowly opened the door wore nurse scrubs and clearly had not been home long. Her hair was tied in a ponytail and loose strands dangled in front of her face.

  “Can we come in, Mrs. McGomery?” Heather stepped into the open doorway giving her little option to say no.

  Jamison followed as they entered a small living room. An aroma of garlic drifted in from the kitchen.

  “We spoke yesterday concerning your vehicle.” Heather waited until the woman nodded. “We need to speak with your son again. Is he home?”

  “Yes. He’s upstairs in his room.”

  Jamison stepped forward. “Ma’am, can you call him down, please?”

  The woman went to the foot of the staircase. “George, can you come down here.”

  They heard movement upstairs and Heather moved in front of Jamison motioning for Mrs. McGomery to take a step back.

  “Is dinner ready?” George called as he came into view, his footsteps heavy on the stairs. His gaze quickly took in the women.

  Heather said, “We spoke yesterday, George. Do you remember?”

  He nodded.

  “We have a few more questions for you but we need to ask them at the station. Can you come with us?”

  He nodded again and as he drew even with Heather he sprinted for the front door.

  Jamison used his forward momentum and gave him a hard shove into the front door. He bounced back and she grabbed his arm swinging him around as she swept his legs out from under him. They tumbled to the floor with Jamison on top. She pulled his arm behind his back and Heather slapped a cuff on his other wrist, then secured both wrists and pulled him to his feet. His mother seemed frozen in place.

  “Why’d you do that, George?” Heather asked him.

  He shrugged.

  “Let’s go.” Heather pushed him toward the front door, walked him across the lawn and put him in the back of the car. She could hear Heather reciting his Miranda rights before she shut the door.

  “What about her?” Jamison nodded to George’s mother who stood on the porch watching.

  Heather approached Mrs. McGomery. “He’s going to be detained for a while. As soon as we get things worked out he can call you.”

  “Is he…is he under arrest?”

  “Yes, ma’am. There’s no need for you to come to the station until he calls you. Okay?” Heather explained again.

  She nodded and stepped back inside the house.

  Heather walked back to where Jamison stood by the car. “Do you want to come with me or I can I call you a car?”

  “I’d like to go with you.”

  Heather picked up the radio microphone as soon as the car was moving. “Seven zero four, Dispatch.”

  “Go ahead seven zero four.” This time a male voice acknowledged Heather’s call.

  “Myself and Flagler Agent Krews are ten seventeen, ten seventy-two back to the station.”

  “Ten four. Twenty forty-eight hours.”

  Heather glanced at Jamison. “Prisoner in custody,” she explained.

  “I thought it was something like that.” Jamison was silent for a few moments. “Did this all seem a little too easy to you?”

  “What? Seeing his face on camera and then scooping him up?”

  Jamison smiled and glanced in the back at George. With his hands cuffed behind him, he was shifted sideways on the seat and had his knees pulled up to his chest. He stared out the side window, his dark straggly hair hanging over his eyes. “George, who put you up to this?”

  Heather glanced at her and then back at the road.

  She gave a shrug when he didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure of her role with Heather but she knew she wanted answers from this guy. When Heather didn’t stop her, she continued.

  “George.” Jamison waited until he looked at her. His eyes grew large as he saw Jamison’s face for the first time and clearly recognized her.

  “Rot in hell,” he mumbled under his breath.

  Jamison glanced at Heather and she nodded for her to continue. “Who’s going to rot in hell, George?”

  “You.” He stared out the window again.

  “Why am I going to rot in hell, George?”

  “Because of her. It’s all her fault. Everything is her fault.”

  “George. George, look at me.” Jamison pushed him harder. “Why is it her fault?”

  He glanced at her and then back out the window. “I’m not saying anything else.”

  Jamison turned in her seat and spoke softly to Heather. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re correct. It was all too easy but sometimes you don’t get past easy and easy closes the case.”

  Jamison grimaced. “So we’re done.”

  “Oh no.” Heather shook her head. “Have Todd send me everything he’s compiled. I think that’ll be enough to get a search warrant for his house.”

  “Okay.”

  Jamison unbuckled her seat belt as they pulled to a stop in front of the TPD station. She had never been inside and she stared in through the glass windows at the flurry of activity. It was a hulking building made of white stone and Jamison could see why people found it intimidating.

  Heather radioed dispatch that they had arrived and then pulled George from the backseat. Jamison followed them inside. They maneuvered down several halls until they reached an interview room. Heather deposited George at the table facing the mirror. Closing the door, she led Jamison to the next room. She hit a few buttons on the console and then took a seat at the computer. “We’re taping now and you’ll be able to hear everything that’s said. Call Todd. Let’s get the search warrant started. It might take a while.”

  Jamison dialed Todd and asked him to email all specifics in locating George McGomery. She also gave him an update on the arrest for Bowden.

  Using her cell phone Heather dialed FBI Special Agent Wallace and advised him of the arrest. Then picked up the phone on the console beside her. “Tanner. I need an officer outside interrogation two. And I need someone to walk a search warrant to the judge on call.” She paused while the officer on the other end responded to her demands. “I’ll be done in five. Thanks.” She slammed the phone back on the console and began typing.

  Jamison opened the email on her phone. “I have all of Todd’s information. I’m forwarding it to you now.”

  Heather nodded but continued typing. She hit print on her screen and switched to email, printing Todd’s information to attach to the search warrant. “Give me a chance to get some information from him and if that doesn’t work you can come in and rile him up again.” She smiled at Jamison. “He seems to really like you.”

  “I have that effect on deranged lunatics.”

  Heather carried her printed paperwork outside the room but when she appeared on the other side of the glass her hands were empty. She sat down across from George and stared at him for a few minutes. “Are you ready to talk now, George?”

  He stared down at the table.

  “George, did you put the roses in Shea Carter’s house?” Heather asked.

  “I might have.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “So she would know I can get to her.”

  “Why do you want to get to her?”

  Jamison watched his face as his eyes began to light with excitement.

  “She can’t play on Saturday. The Tigers are a horrible team and don’t deserve to be in the championship. We asked them nicely not to play but they wouldn’t listen.”

  Heather jumped on his first mention of others being involved. “Who asked them not to play, George?”

  He looked down at the table again as he realized his mistake and then back at her. “I asked them not to play,” he said with renewed vigor.

  “Okay.” Heather nodded. “Why did you ask them not to play?”

  “I told you. The Tigers are horrible and they don’t deserve to be in the playoffs.”

  Heather paused and Jamison could see her processing his statement before she spoke again.
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  “Okay, George. The Tigers are horrible. Who are we going to cheer for?”

  “Atlanta, of course.” He sighed as if she had finally asked the important question.

  Heather nodded. “Of course, Atlanta.”

  She turned and looked at Jamison through the window. At a knock on the door Heather stood and left the room.

  Jamison left the viewing room and joined Heather in the hallway. Special Agent Wallace gave Jamison a nod but spoke to Heather.

  “I want to talk with him.”

  Heather nodded and looked at an approaching uniformed officer. He handed her a piece of paper and she glanced at it before making eye contact with Wallace. “Search warrant. Do you want to go with us or stay here and question him?”

  He seemed torn for a moment but quickly made a decision. “I’ll stay here and question him but I’ll send bomb techs with you.”

  Heather glanced at Jamison and then nodded. “I’ll text you the address to send them to. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “The transfer of information has been very one sided so far,” Heather said as she picked up the radio microphone and advised dispatch they were headed back to the previous address to execute a search warrant.

  Jamison didn’t answer Heather’s comment. Jamison worked more with the CIA than the FBI but she knew large organizations tended to hold their information close. She was glad she worked with Flagler. They didn’t have law enforcement privileges but over the years they had developed positive relationships with the agencies they worked with and normally that meant an even flow of information.

  Heather sent a text and then dropped the car into gear. “Mom’s about to get a big surprise.”

  “I think you arrested him so fast she didn’t have time to think about it,” Jamison said, glancing at a new text alert.

  “Yeah, I thought we’d get some resistance from her.”

  “Flagler has an update. Want to hear it now?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Jamison dialed Flagler and placed Todd on speaker. “Heather is with me and you’re on speaker, Todd.”

  “Greetings again, Officer Cannon,” Todd said in a computer voice before switching back to a more serious tone. “I found some interesting background on McGomery’s employer, Watson-Hughes. The first founding owner was widower Shelley Watson and she passed away several years ago. She has two sons who aren’t active in the company. In fact, both live in California. The second founding owner is Charles Hughes. He’s had a long career in doing absolutely nothing. After leaving the military in nineteen seventy-two he bounced around until teaming up with Shelley Watson about ten years ago. The company has a fairly reputable name although Mr. Hughes’ name has been linked to Clayton Thomas on multiple occasions.”

  “The head of the Mountain Militia?” Heather asked, pulling to a stop in front of the McGomery house.

  “That’s the guy.”

  “Where’s the connection, Todd?” Jamison asked.

  “I’m still working on that. I’ll get back with you.”

  Heather looked at Jamison. “Are you familiar with Clayton Thomas?”

  Jamison shook her head. “Not a bit.”

  “Understandable. He’s worked hard to stay under the radar. I ran into a few guys from his group a couple years ago. They were in town blowing off some steam because apparently they don’t get away from the compound much. They got in a fight with some college boys and it turned into a major brawl. The bouncers kicked them all out but they continued fighting in the parking lot. When we finally got them separated, we grilled them all for a few hours before Clayton Thomas showed up and bailed them out.”

  “What was the fight about?”

  “We were never really sure. The college boys said they were hitting on one of the guys’ girlfriends but the Militia boys wouldn’t say much.” Heather opened a search engine on the computer mounted between the seats. “There isn’t much available information about the Mountain Militia, just their website. But basically once you’re a member, you’re in for life.” She swiveled the computer so Jamison could see the Mountain Militia homepage.

  “Looks like the typical white supremacists against the government organization.”

  Heather nodded. “With an added bonus of being law abiding. We’ve heard talk that they’re stockpiling guns and ammunition but the Feds haven’t been able to find a reason to get inside.” She shrugged. “I don’t know how hard they’ve tried. Too many other active groups they have to watch on a regular basis. I do know the FBI has a file on them because I did some checking after the fight.” She opened her car door. “Let’s go make Momma’s night.”

  Jamison glanced at the dark house and then at her watch. “It’s not even ten but I think Momma might be in bed,” she said softly as they approached.

  Heather nodded and rapped on the glass window in the door. After a couple of attempts, she pressed the doorbell. Within seconds, Mrs. McGomery’s face appeared in the glass.

  Heather held up her badge and identification. “Ma’am, it’s Officer Cannon again. Can you open the door?”

  Mrs. McGomery slowly pulled open the door. “I was in bed. I took a sleeping pill because well…you know.” She shrugged and stared at the floor.

  Jamison took a step back as the smell of alcohol emanating from the woman overwhelmed her. She glanced at Heather who had her eyes focused on Mrs. McGomery.

  Heather placed her hand on the open door and stepped inside. “We have a warrant to search George’s room and any common areas. Why don’t you have a seat right there, Mrs. McGomery?” Heather guided her to the sofa and steadied her while she took a seat. “Which room is George’s?”

  “To the left. The spare bedroom is to the right,” Mrs. McGomery answered.

  “Has George ever had any friends stay the night?” Heather asked.

  “No. No, George doesn’t really have any friends.”

  Heather nodded and turned to Jamison. “Just the one on the left then. I’ll send the other crew up when they arrive. I’ll look around down here.”

  Jamison nodded and climbed the stairs. George’s bedroom door was shut and locked. She pulled out her set of picks and quickly opened it. Sliding on gloves she walked once around the room, glancing at anything in the open. The room was neat and orderly. A laptop sat open on the desk and she touched the keyboard to wake it up. George had been in the middle of writing an email to screen name MM103. She quickly scanned the email and then pulled out her phone and snapped a shot of the email.

  There were no pictures or posters anywhere. A bookshelf held high school textbooks and a few mystery novels. Under the laptop was a ticket to an Atlanta Wildcats football game dated two weeks prior. She snapped a picture of it too. In his closet two bins held his socks and underwear. T-shirts and dress shirts were hung along with dress pants and jeans. Several pairs of shoes were lined up beneath the clothes. She turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A dark-haired woman entered the room followed by two men. The second man, dressed in jeans and running shoes, held the leash on a large short-haired brown dog. The other two wore black suits identifying themselves as FBI agents.

  The woman approached Jamison. “Agent Krews? I’m Sheldon Barrett. That’s Terry Haus and Willie Armentrout on the leash.”

  Jamison nodded and shook each of their hands. “It’s pretty sparse in here,” she said, stepping out of the room. The two agents in suits joined her, leaving Willie and his dog to work.

  Barrett’s eyes were on Willie as he maneuvered around the room while she spoke to Jamison. “Nothing of interest?”

  Jamison relayed the few items inside the room that she had found. “My guess is he spends most of his spare time on the computer.”

  Barrett nodded. “We’ll take that with us.”

  Jamison didn’t argue. This wasn’t technically her scene to control so she’d leave the negotiation for evidence possession to Heather.

  “Hey Shel. Take a look at this,” Willie called from
the door of George’s closet.

  Barrett crossed the room and looked into the closet.

  “He’s alerting on the shoes,” Willie said.

  “Okay. Let’s bag them. Any other hits?”

  “Nope.”

  Barrett turned to Terry. “Bag the laptop and anything else not nailed down. I’ll be downstairs.” She smiled at Jamison as she passed her. “Let’s talk to Officer Cannon.”

  It sounded more like an order than an invitation but Jamison was finished in George’s room anyway so she followed.

  Heather sat beside Mrs. McGomery on the couch. She stood up as they entered, motioning them to follow her into the kitchen. “Did you find anything?”

  “Got a hit on his shoes. Only residue but at least it’s something,” Barrett answered first.

  Heather nodded, looking at Jamison. “Maybe we’ll be able to tie him to the explosives you found.”

  Jamison leaned against the wall, taking the opportunity to join the conversation. “Maybe you can track the purchase of the Atlanta Wildcat ticket?” She addressed Barrett who now had possession of all evidence.

  Barrett nodded and turned at footsteps sounding on the stairs. “I’ll help the boys load everything and then bring you an evidence receipt.” Without waiting for a response, she followed the other two agents out of the house.

  “She either wasn’t going to mention the ticket or she didn’t see the connection,” Jamison said softly. “I took a photo and already sent it to Todd. I want to know who he was sitting with.”

  Heather nodded. “Did I see a laptop as they passed?”

  “You did. There wasn’t much of anything else in the room though.”

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  She met Agent Barrett at the door and took the evidence receipt. She explained to Mrs. McGomery what they had taken and left her a copy of the receipt. Jamison waited by the door, watching the agents secure items in their vehicle. When Heather finished they crossed to her sedan and climbed inside.

  As soon as the doors closed Jamison spoke. “We know he had his hands on explosives so if not here at his house then where?” Jamison didn’t wait for an answer from Heather but dialed Todd immediately.