by Cat Connor
“What does that mean?”
“It means … I dunno.” I shrugged.
“And this has something to do with …?”
“CIA. FBI. Maybe a joint task force. Throw letters at it. Could be any agency, could be all of them. Could be alphabet fuc’n soup.” I leaned on my elbows. “I was never meant to come across Chad, but I did.”
“Can’t you ask whoever you called to help Chad, what this is all about?”
“Yeah, no, it’s not how it works. I need to have something to bargain with. Until I do, I’ll go looking on my own.”
Well, not exactly on my own. Sean’s working on it too.
“Looking for what?”
“For what he was doing and why looking like Mac helps him do whatever it is.”
“You’re using FBI resources to poke around in a possible joint task force?”
“Looks like it.”
Noel pulled up a chair.
“Joint task force. Mac was FBI. Can you find out what he was working on prior to his death?”
“He was assigned to me in Delta.”
“What about before that?”
“Cyber – as far as I know he was never in a joint task force situation,” I replied.
“Before you met?”
I looked at him and started to shake my head but stopped. “He was a stock trader.”
“El?”
“When we were in New Zealand I met a detective who said she knew Mac. Said he’d been in NZ as an FBI agent.”
“And?”
“I thought she must’ve been mistaken.”
Of course, it could have been Chad and not Mac.
I closed the programs and started searching our databases for anything to do with Socrates or anyone called Chad with a birthdate within five years of 1970.
“You thought, or she was?”
“If I said Mac told me he was in NZ but that Faye got the time line wrong …”
“When did Mac tell you?”
I had to open my mouth and say Mac told me. The answer was not going to help me look sane.
A sigh escaped before I could check it.
“At the Marriott, after I got those parcels of human meat.”
His eyes narrowed. “Human meat … uh huh. That would be when women bearing the Conway surname were turning up dead all over Virginia?”
“Yeah.”
“Terrorist related, El. That time you didn’t share information?”
“Yeah, that time.” I smiled because Noel was a champion at not sharing all he knew.
“How wrong did she get the time line?”
“Mac’s ghost told me ten years – that put him in New Zealand the same time I was, or thereabouts.”
“It’s getting complicated.”
No kidding. It’s Tierney. He turns things into a murky black hole of deception.
“But he wasn’t supposed to be FBI then …”
Noel rocked back in the chair. “Stock trading?”
“Cover maybe?”
“You want a hand with this?”
I shook my head. “If I find something I’ll let you know.”
“What about your SAC?”
“What about him?”
“He can probably find out Mac’s story.”
I thought about how quickly Caine issued temp credentials for Mac during the Son of Sam case. Oh yeah, he knows something.
“I want to find out for myself. Have a feeling the secrets that were kept won’t be spilled by anyone involved. Short of a séance, I think I’m on my own here.”
And after shooting Mac’s ghost, I figured he wasn’t going to be in a hurry to chat.
I pulled up another file and showed Noel.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A sound file. The security camera in the motel office records sound. I isolated a track.” I opened another file, it was a sample of Mac’s voice. I added both files to a voice comparison program and clicked run.
A few minutes later, we were looking at yellow words across the bottom of the screen.
“Unbelievable,” Noel muttered.
“And again, a close enough match to fool people.”
Noel left as light crept over the horizon and into the windows. I lay on the couch in my office and listened to the recordings of Chad and Mac. I couldn’t tell them apart.
Eighteen
Maria Nay
“I don’t give a fuck,” I said rocking back in my chair and watching the reactions on the faces in front of me. I saw the words ‘aggravated assault’ and ‘suspected abduction’ on the computer screen. To say I wasn’t enthused was perhaps an understatement.
My lack of enthusiasm came from spending the night trying to dig up leads, watching hours of security camera footage trying to find Spiderman, and not being able to understand what happened to the Bleich family. When I could have slept, I opted to ghost hunt until dawn. Tired met cranky and settled in for the long haul. The new case seemed like something best handled by police and not us. “Why us?”
Lee and Sam shrugged and shook their heads. They were also clueless.
It hadn’t been the world’s best week and it was only Wednesday. The week evaporated into a blur of teenage hell and I still couldn’t get a song out of my head. Let’s face it, songs in my head never bode well. This time I could hear Kevin Costner and Modern West singing ‘Maria Nay’ with such impact they could’ve been in front of me. It wasn’t going away. Day two of the same song. Day freaking two. Okay, so the brief interlude of drug and suicide songs during the night doesn’t count. No wonder I wasn’t embracing a new case.
“I’m detecting a black cloud coming from around your chair,” Lee said. “Anything you want to share?”
I shook my head. It occurred to me as I reached for my laptop that they didn’t think I saw the sideways glances. I ignored them all for a few seconds and tried to Google the lyrics, no luck.
“Just give me a few minutes, please,” I said. My hand reached for my iPod in my drawer without conscious instruction. I scrolled through until I found ‘Maria Nay.’ I listened using my ear buds once, then played it through my laptop twice, enabling Lee and Sam to listen. I was hoping that hearing it externally would give some clue. Yet I remained clueless. They listened with bemused patience.
Maybe I was trying too hard. I dropped my iPod back in the drawer and leaned back in my chair.
“That song mean anything to anyone?” I said.
They shook their heads. A sudden thought sprouted. The band had a website. I had a quick look and discovered the lyrics. The song had nothing at all to do with diamonds or a dead jeweler. Right, back to work then.
“Caine thinks we should look into this case,” Lee stated, planting his feet flat on the ground and leaning forward.
I wasn’t going let the Special Agent in Charge of Delta sway my decision this time. How often do abductions end well? Not very. Did I want to be away from home chasing an Unsub who would probably kill his victim anyway? No, I did not.
“Our specialty is serial crime, this is one person. Delta B can do it.” I scrolled through the data on my laptop screen. “They’ve got less than us on their case log.”
“We took the jeweler case. That’s not serial,” Lee reminded.
“You’re right, but it turned into a multiple murder.” I doubted this would turn into anything but frustration and annoyance.
He smiled. “You got me.” His hands went up in mock surrender.
I picked up the phone and called the SSA of Delta B.
“Claude, do you have time for another potential case?”
“Give me a run down,” he said, his mid-western accent reverberating in my ear.
As I spoke, Lee spun his laptop to face me. An urgent email request flashed up on the screen.
“Never mind. Looks like this one is ours after all.” I hung up.
“Eyes only?” I said, looking at the red flashing letters attached to beginning of the message.
“Delta A ey
es only,” Lee replied. “It’s come from the Director.”
I sighed. I knew who it came from.
“Fine, we’re in.” I considered I could still say no but if Cait O’Hare wanted us in, she wanted us in for a reason. All this for an abduction and assault. Must be a reason. “Sam?” I looked over at him. He nodded and stood. He’d sat there doing an impersonation of a stone for the entire conversation. “You okay for this?”
“I’m fit for duty,” he replied.
“That’s not what I said, are you okay for this?”
“Yes, Chicky Babe. I’m okay.”
I smiled. That’s what I wanted to hear. Sam had been on medical leave for six weeks then desk duties for another month to recover from surgery to remove bullet fragments from his chest. Hence he was not involved in our foot pursuit earlier in the week. Sometimes the body heals faster than the mind. Being shot can screw your head up and zap your confidence, I needed his head in the game and to know he was ready for anything.
Lee was on his feet. He’d already packed his laptop into a black bag. Someone knocked at my door.
“Come in,” I called as I began packing up my laptop.
The door opened. From the corner of my eye I saw blonde hair. A smile crossed my lips as I stood up to greet the Director. She was holding a manila folder.
“Director.”
Sam and Lee spun around.
O’Hare nodded at me. “Ellie.” She smiled at Sam and Lee. “At ease, gentlemen, I thought I’d brief you myself.”
I suspected that was code for ‘I want to make sure you’re all on board and there won’t be any bullshit.’
She closed the door and dragged a chair over to my desk, motioning for us all to sit back down. “Kurt will be joining us presently,” O’Hare said. “I saw him out in the bullpen.”
“Saves me from calling him,” I replied with a smile.
“I understand that you have a difficult case in front of you and that you are probably not thrilled about me dropping this one on you as well, Ellie,” O’Hare said with a hint of apology. “But I would like Delta A on this.”
“Fair enough,” I replied. It’s not as if the boss has to explain why or anything. Orders are orders; hers are delivered nicer than most, is all. I was glad it was her request and not Assistant Director Owen’s.
“I know you’ve been working some long hours and things aren’t great with Carla right now. If you want to take a few days I’d understand.”
I shook my head. “I’m good.”
Director O’Hare smiled. “I respect your wish to carry on with your case load. If anything crops up at home and you need some time, we can go on without you.”
The air pressure changed in the room. Lee and Sam narrowed their eyes at me. I knew I was going to have to come clean when O’Hare left. The only other person I knew with a teenager was Cait O’Hare. I’d called her from the office last night and told her I suspected Carla and Joey were either having sex or thinking about it. I’d also mentioned that I thought it was more than that, that everyone else saw sex when I saw serious trouble, as in alcohol, drugs, or suicide, looming.
“I can do this.”
At least when I head out to save the world, there’s a chance I’ll get it right.
“That’s all I need to know.” O’Hare opened the folder she held in her hand and lay it on my desk. She passed pages to us. I was reading while Cait said, “The woman in the photograph is Maria Doyle. She was taken by force from her home last night. John Brown, her boyfriend of four months was injured and raised the alarm.”
And there it was. The reason for Maria Nay. The song bounced into my head as if to revel in the cleverness and further drive its point home. Sam and Lee made eye contact with me and raised their eyebrows.
“Maria Doyle is a person we’d like to speak to in regard to our murder investigation,” I said.
“Have you spoken to her?”
“No, Lee and Sam uncovered the lead last night …”
Lee spoke, “We called over to her place, but she wasn’t home. I left my card with a note for her to call me regarding an event.”
O’Hare nodded.
“Kurt and I came in last night working another aspect of our current case, we gave Sam and Lee a hand – none of us had any luck locating the woman,” I added.
“Then finding her might be beneficial for your case too.”
“Police?” I said.
“Her brother called me from the emergency room,” she said. “Maria is a friend.”
Things whirred in my mind. Maria Doyle? I knew her name and it wasn’t because she’d popped up in an investigation. I stared at the photograph and then closed my eyes – I knew her, but didn’t recognize her. She looked different and I couldn’t place her in context.
Sam was asking about the boyfriend and his injuries.
“He was knocked out, pistol whipped by the look of the injuries to his face and head.”
“And he knows who did this?”
O’Hare nodded. “Maria’s ex-boyfriend.”
“The one she took out a protection order against?” I asked because that would make sense and it’d been my experience that protection orders were like spitting in the eye of the devil and incited violence from ex-partners.
“No, an earlier long term relationship.”
I heard Bon Jovi. My eyes searched for the origin of the music. Nothing. Damn. It was just for me. ‘Born to be my Baby.’ A song I loved, but found myself struggling to find the hidden message. That was not fair, not after the whole Kevin Costner song. Too soon. Come on brain give me a break. You’ve been pounding me with music all week.
A sudden silence made me look up. All eyes on me. Shit. I’d missed something. There was a photograph on the desk in front of me.
“Yes?” I said, hoping no one would notice I hadn’t been present.
“As I was saying,” O’Hare continued and tapped the picture on my desk, “Iain Campbell is the suspect. We know he has properties in Fairfax, Herndon, and Reston. He also likes to hike.”
“Northern Virginia?” I looked at the man in the picture. “We’ve seen him recently,” I said. “I spent half the night looking for him. Only we were looking for a Mr. Peter Parker not Iain Campbell. Hang on.”
O’Hare nodded.
I opened my drawer and pulled out the manila envelope. I could feel the flash drive. I placed the photograph next to the one O’Hare gave me and palmed the flash drive. The night had disappeared and I hadn’t looked at the contents of the flash drive. I hated that I hadn’t got to it. Shit happens. Nothing I could do about that.
“Same guy?”
Lee leaned in. “Same guy.”
“We sighted his car leaving DC. He was driving a white rental sedan, a late model Ford Taurus,” O’Hare said. “Where was your photograph taken?”
“He was about a hundred yards away from where we lost a suspect in the jeweler’s murder.”
“When?”
“Not long after the incident yesterday,” I replied. It’d been so busy it felt like two or three days ago.
“He was seen on traffic cam crossing Key Bridge into Rosslyn, at eight thirty last night.”
“Key Bridge?”
“Yes, Key Bridge,” O’Hare replied.
“Do we have a photograph of the injured boyfriend?” I asked.
O’Hare shook her head. “There should be photographs of his injuries taken at the hospital but they were not forwarded to us.”
Now that’s strange.
“We’re going to follow up on the photographs,” I said, making a note to get Sandra to chase the pictures. “I know he’s a victim but I like to have all the puzzle pieces identified up front.”
“There should be photographs somewhere, they were dating.”
Facebook was a possible source.
“We’re on it. You coming out into the field?”
O’Hare shook her head. “I’d love to, but it’s not possible.” She looked disappointed. Hell,
I would be. I couldn’t imagine life behind a desk.
“We’ll try not to have too much fun,” I said.
O’Hare smiled. “This is yours, go do what you do.”
We shook hands. She indicated that I should walk her to the door. “If at any point you need to go, just go. Delta can handle this. This team of yours is more than capable.”
“I know, thank you.”
“Whatever is going on with Carla, I’m sure it will work out,” Cait O’Hare said.
“Thank you again.” I was lucky and I knew it. Most agents worked their entire careers without more than a few words from the Director. They never got to see the person behind the title or understand how hard she’d worked to get there. They also never knew how much she cared about her agents and their lives.
There was a knock at the door, it opened and Kurt entered.
“I’ll be in touch,” O’Hare said. “Agent Henderson, Ellie will fill you in.”
“Thank you, Director,” he replied and held the door for her as she left.
I explained to Kurt how Peter Parker was Iain Campbell and he was the same guy the Director wanted found. Then I explained how the missing woman in the director’s case was the woman we’d tried to find last night. Big fat fail on that one.
“Y’all know how I feel about coincidence.”
Lee rocked back in his chair. Then sat up straight and tapped away on his laptop as frown lines deepened. “I can’t find a connection between Campbell and the jeweler.”
God, I loved him. We knew Doyle had a connection to the event where the jeweler’s wares were on display and auctioned for charity, but there was Lee looking for a more sinister connection because Campbell turned up in a photograph, and because Kurt and I were looking for him most of the night.
I still didn’t know how he’d sent a photo of himself taken from a surveillance camera or why, unless it was to prove he knew DC.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, is it possible we have a real coincidence?” I said. We all laughed. Yeah, right. “You can bet he’s involved somehow. I know for sure Doyle is involved. Dammit, I’ve had that Modern West song stuck in my head from the minute we got the call about the jeweler.”
Damn, I said it out loud.
