Soundbyte (-byte series Book 5)

by Cat Connor

  “Conway?”

  He was still waiting for an answer. I cleared my throat. “Actually I do.” I slid a piece of paper across the desk to him. He spun it with his finger and glanced at it for a few seconds.

  It was fun watching the words he read sink in.

  A moment later, he picked the paper up and stared at it.

  “Not fairy dust, but he flew,” I said pressing the visions of balloons to the outer limits of my mind. They floated back into focus. An evil laugh filled one of the balloons until it popped, spilling the laughter all over me. Under the cackle, I heard a hissing, “E-E-E-Ellie.”

  Leave me alone, you fucktarded clown!

  “Chartered helicopter. And we’re sure that’s him, this Quinn Sutherland?”

  I shook my head. “Not at all, but that’s who chartered a helicopter that took off with one male passenger fifty minutes after the robbery from a private heliport in Vienna, not from DC as I’d first considered.”

  I’d already sent the helicopter company a picture from the CCTV in the jewelers. They said it was possible that the man in the store was the man who hired the helicopter. It was possible but I suspected unlikely.

  “How did he get there?” Kurt looked at me and smiled. “From the middle of the CBD in DC to Vienna – how?”

  The easiest way would be via the Metro but I didn’t think for one second, he’d taken the train. There were too many cameras involved in Metro travel. My gut was adamant.

  “Company car or his car,” I replied. I considered my next words. “When we lost him in the middle of the city, he must have had access to a car.”

  “Underground car parking … then why would he need a helicopter?” Kurt said playing his role as devil’s advocate well.

  Theories manifested. “He could have known about the CCTV, and that we would see his face, or whoever he was meeting may not be in the DC area.”

  “Whatever his reason, to have a helicopter standing by makes this very well planned.”

  “I think we know it wasn’t opportunistic – you don’t kill an entire family in one morning on the off-chance.” I watched Kurt digest the information. “I’ve run his name. I have an address – if you’re interested.” It came back with nothing except an address and a driver’s license. There wasn’t so much as a parking fine attached to his name. That would make him almost the perfect patsy. No priors, no reason for his fingerprints to be in any databases, except that it was DC and almost everyone had some connection to government and therefore their fingerprints existed within databases. “I’m pretty sure it’s not him but the driver’s license picture is similar to our Unsub.” Similar as in about twenty percent of white males holding drivers’ licenses in the State of Virginia could bear some resemblance to him. Similar in a generic white male kind of way.

  I’d sent his name to the crime lab. They would run prints from all the scenes and see if he popped up. My gut told me not to hold my breath. Good advice.

  Kurt planted both feet on the ground and stood.

  “Let’s go find out.”

  “I’ll get Lee and Sam. If it’s something, we might need the back up. If it’s nothing, then we’ve had a nice field trip.”

  I whistled. Sam and Lee appeared.

  “You summoned us, O Genie of the Bullpen,” Lee said, with a theatrical swirl of his hand and a feigned bow.

  A smile broke free and beamed from Sam’s face.

  Kurt shook his head. “Have you all lost your minds?”

  I chose to ignore his humorless comment. “We’ve got a possible lead on the Bleich killer. Tagging along?”

  If we can prove it’s him then he won’t be an Unsub anymore. I like names. I like to know who I’m dealing with.

  “Indeed,” Lee replied. “Who are we after?”

  “Quinn Sutherland,” I replied.

  The four of us trundled down the hallway to the elevator.

  “Did he take anything from the jewelry store?” Lee said. “Anything worth killing over?”

  “A lot of the glass cabinets were unlocked according to police – we’ll know what’s missing once all the stock is checked,” I said. “We’re waiting on the live son to confirm inventory.” Despite the many times I viewed the tape I couldn’t say for sure if the killer took anything. I doubted he stole from a cabinet, though he may have taken something from Bleich – other than his life.

  “Would seem to be a waste of energy to kill someone for nothing,” Kurt added.

  “Unless robbery was to disguise the murder,” I replied. “Maybe he expected police to find the body, not us?”

  “Sooner or later someone would go looking for next of kin and discover the other murders,” Kurt said.

  “True.”

  “Why murder almost the whole family? That I don’t understand,” Kurt replied.

  The elevator dinged.

  Everyone nodded.

  “I think we’re focusing on the wrong part of the case,” I said as we entered the elevator. “It started out looking like robbery and a murder … but with no evidence of anything taken yet, there is no real point to thinking robbery.”

  “Yes, unless it was to disguise the murder,” Sam said.

  “Great disguise – jeez, no one would see through that,” Lee muttered as the ground floor loomed. “He should’ve made it very obvious that there was a theft.”

  “Refocus,” I said. “The mother was beaten to death, we need to know why. That could be the key.”

  “It doesn’t fit with the other deaths,” Kurt agreed.

  “What we could do with – is a criminal who isn’t as smart as he thinks he is – for a change. Be nice if we could wrap this sucker up before dinner.”

  The three men laughed.

  As I thought, no hope.

  When we leveled with the front desk in the foyer the agent standing there called out to me.

  “Agent Conway – I have something for you.”

  I veered off from the group and waited by the desk as she poked about under the counter.

  “Sorry, here it is,” she said, handing me a large manila envelope.

  I turned the envelope over in my hands. No postmark. The return address was a post office box. Something small slid around inside it as I tipped the envelope. Interesting.

  I ripped it open and peered inside. A piece of paper. I pulled it out and looked at it.

  On the page was a six by four inch picture of a man leaving a building. I studied the buildings nearby and the street depicted.

  “Anyone recognize this man?” I said, showing Delta the picture.

  Sam and Lee shook their heads. Kurt stepped closer. “We have a name?”

  “Don’t think so.” I turned the paper over. There was nothing there. I looked at the picture again.

  “Look where he is,” Lee said. “That’s about a hundred yards from where we lost our man from the jewelry store.”

  “What a coincidence – now we need to know who he is and why he is,” I replied with a wry grin. “And y’all know what I think of coincidences.” I stuffed my hand back into the envelope and produced a Nano flash drive. It was tiny in comparison with the flash drives I carried and the bright yellow flash band on my wrist. “Now this is interesting.” The tiny drive sat in the palm of my hand. “Wonder what’s on it?” I said.

  “Wouldn’t hurt to know who sent it as well as what’s on it,” Sam said.

  “True, in fact that might be rather helpful.”

  The agent at the desk shrugged. “Sorry, it was dropped off by a courier.”

  I glanced up at the ceiling. “We have this area under surveillance, yes?”

  She nodded.

  “Can you have the video reviewed please, find the courier for me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You’ll forward the courier’s picture and details to my cell?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I dropped the tiny flash drive into the envelope and slid the picture back inside. With the envelope tucked u
nder my arm we carried on.

  There would be time to check the flash drive out later.

  Fourteen

  You Got the Silver

  There wasn’t a lot of conversation on the drive out to Alexandria. I rode with Kurt, and Sam with Lee. I took little notice of the blossoms and tulips or that the rain stopped. The beauty of spring was lost on me. Instead of thinking about the way it would go once we reached the address I was trying to figure out what was up with Carla. There was no figuring it out; I convinced myself it would all become clear once I got home.

  A quiet prayer to the big guy was in order, just to make sure I was home at a reasonable hour. God and I are speaking at the moment, so I didn’t think it was too much to ask.

  “Police,” Kurt muttered driving past the address.

  “This isn’t good,” I replied.

  We pulled in ahead of the police car. Sam passed us and turned at the top of the street. He flashed his lights as he neared us and parked on the other side of the road.

  I climbed out and ran over to meet them.

  “Hey, we might have trouble,” I said as Sam opened his door.

  Lee was on his cell. He motioned to me.

  “What’s going on?” I said.

  He hung up and put his phone in his jacket. “There was a car crash. Police are saying Sutherland was in a car crash. Let’s get over there.”

  Kurt and I walked up the path first. I whispered to him, “I’m not buying the car crash. Too coincidental.”

  A woman in her fifties opened the door. Her expression stony and eyes red rimmed.

  “Ma’am,” I said showing her my ID, “is your husband home?”

  She hesitated. “My … husband is …”

  Kurt stepped forward and took the woman by the arm. “I think you should sit down.” He turned her around and helped her back into the main house. Two police officers stood like cardboard cutouts in the middle of the living room, with their hats under their arms. Kurt spoke to them. “I’m SSA Henderson, FBI. Can one of you get Mrs. Sutherland a glass of water?”

  The tallest officer strode away. The other stayed his ground. I flashed my badge and asked his name.

  “Gregory Keenan,” he replied.

  “Come with me,” I said, beckoning him. Gregory followed me into the hallway. Seemed smarter to get the uniforms away from the distraught woman. “Where’s her husband?” I said, keeping my voice low.

  “He was killed in a car crash an hour ago.”

  “Whereabouts?”

  “Vienna.”

  “Do you have the details?”

  He nodded and pulled his notebook out and handed it to me. I read the notes he’d made and wrote down the name of the officer at the scene in my notebook. There was a car and a truck involved. He reported Sutherland’s car being rammed at an intersection, shunting it across the road and into a lamppost. The truck left the scene. Witnesses said there was no way they could get the trapped man out and that he was not responsive. An explosion forced would-be rescuers back. There was a BOLO out on the truck.

  It wasn’t looking good for Sutherland. I considered I might have to reevaluate my thoughts about his innocence.

  I handed the notebook back to Keenan. “Thanks.”

  “Is this one of your cases?” he said, putting his notebook away.

  “Yes. We’re investigating Sutherland in connection with a murder in the city today.” I heard a noise and looked up to see Mrs. Sutherland, wide-eyed and pale, staring out the window behind us. I spun around to see Quinn Sutherland walking up the path. Sam and Lee were waiting by the front door. Sutherland appeared surprised to see them.

  “Dead?” I said to Keenan.

  “He was identified at the scene by his driver’s license and the tags of the car,” Keenan said with a shrug.

  Well, this just got messy.

  I walked to the door. When Mr. Sutherland opened it, I introduced myself and suggested he join his wife in the living room. She hadn’t moved. Then all of a sudden she said, “Who was in your car?”

  “Excuse me?” he replied, turning his attention to his wife. “What’s going on, are you all right?”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Sutherland,” I said as he hugged his wife. “Did you come home in your own car?”

  “Not today. I used one of the fleet cars from work. My car is having a regular service.”

  Interesting.

  “Where?”

  He fished inside his jacket and produced his wallet. I watched as he flicked through a series of business cards then held one out to me. “Here, this is the mechanic the company uses.”

  “Who has access to your car?”

  “No one I can think of. It’s in the parking garage at work all day and in our garage all night.”

  “Have you had it detailed in the last few weeks?”

  It wouldn’t be the first time car keys were copied while the car was being valeted. I’d seen cars that looked brand new after they’d been detailed and owners so pleased with the result that they never suspected a tracking device in the wheel arch, or a bomb.

  Some people aren’t nice.

  He looked over his wife’s head; I could see his brain ticking. “About two months ago.”

  “Would you mind writing down the name of the company you use,” I said handing him my notebook and a pen.

  While he did that, I went out to Lee and Sam.

  “It wasn’t him. We need to know who could have produced a fake license. Also, why the hell would anyone want to make it look like Sutherland was dead?”

  I leaned on the wall.

  “Did you ever seriously think he was involved?” Sam asked.

  “No, I thought it was possible that he was a patsy.”

  “Maybe he is,” Sam said.

  “In that case, why not kill him? Why kill someone else in a car that’s been made to look like his, someone carrying his license?”

  “Maybe Sutherland pissed off someone and they wanted to send a message,” Lee offered. “You have to admit it was pretty clever, police arriving here to tell his wife he was dead.”

  “That was clever. Let’s work on the Sutherland connection. I need to find out if he booked that helicopter or if it was someone else,” I said. “I don’t like this, there is something very hinky going on.”

  “I’m going back to the office,” Lee said. “Going to do some research on Mr. Sutherland and see if he knows anyone who likes pretty jewelry or independent contractors.”

  “Good thinking.” I turned to Sam. “Sam?”

  “I’m going to check with the crime scene unit. They might have an inventory for us by now. Will check with Sandra too and see how close the UK is to finding the other son. Would help to know what, if anything is missing.”

  “Okay. See you both soon. We’ll finish up talking to Sutherland here, and then join you.”

  I turned to go back inside when my phone buzzed. Incoming picture. It was a photo of the courier who dropped off the photo at work and his details. I texted a thank you to the sender.

  Back inside both cops were standing at parade rest. They seemed less uncomfortable. Kurt was talking to both the Sutherlands. I showed Kurt the photo. “Our courier.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That’s interesting but this is also interesting,” he said, his voice low. “A month ago Mrs. Sutherland received an invitation to attend a jewelry exhibition in Washington, at the Ritz-Carlton.”

  “Did you go?” I said to the woman. She seemed a more normal color now.

  “Yes, I did. The Heathcote diamonds were on display. They’re stunning.”

  “How big are they?” The words popped out before I could stop them. I had no way of knowing how big a forty-five or forty-eight carat diamond was.

  She looked surprised for a second, then answered with a smile. “About the same size as the Hope Diamond.”

  Good to know. The Hope diamond I’d seen on numerous occasions at the Museum of Natural History. It wasn’t something a girl would want hang
ing around her neck without an armed escort. So what would you do with a set of diamonds that big? Assuming you weren’t a King, Queen, or a Rockefeller.

  “Thank you. It’s interesting that you were invited. Do you often go to jewelry events?”

  She shook her head. “No, not at all. I like diamonds as much as the next girl but that was my first invite to something so swanky.”

  “Many people there?”

  “Yes, lots, socialites and the rich and famous.” She smiled. “I’m surprised you weren’t there.”

  “I’m far from being a socialite, nor am I famous,” I replied.

  “Your boyfriend was there.”

  I removed all surprise from my voice before speaking. “Well, I hope that means I’m getting something special for my birthday.”

  The urge to run away grew within me but I stayed my ground. My boyfriend was there. Nice. Is there anyone on the East Coast who doesn’t know I’m dating Rowan Grange? I scanned my memory trying to recall Rowan mentioning anything about a jewelry event. Nothing jumped out. He may have been performing with Gracey. The pair of them did quite a few corporate gigs together – and also fundraising events.

  “Was the event in aid of anything?” I said.

  She nodded. “Yes, during the evening there were auctions to raise funds for research into Autism.”

  “Why do you think you were invited to the event?” I said. It was possible she had an interest in autism.

  “I presumed Quinn put my name down on something.”

  That was a possibility. It didn’t matter where you went, or what you did, someone would ask you to apply for a store card or for your email address.

  He shook his head.

  “You’re not big supporters of whatever charity was benefiting from the event?”

  They shook their heads.

  “Are we being targeted?” he said.

  “It’s possible,” Kurt replied. “We’ll have police keep an eye on your house.”

  Both cops nodded. “I can arrange that now,” Gregory said and walked away talking into his radio.

  Kurt and I moved to the door to converse in low whispers.

  “The more we uncover, the less sense any of it makes,” I said.