by Elle Gray
“My understanding is that you asked Paxton to help you with a case you’re working on? The murder of Brad Sunderland and the disappearance of his fiancée, Cassie Cooper?” he asks.
If he’s asking, he already knows I asked Paxton for help. Which means either Paxton went to him directly or Brody got caught hacking into their database. I doubt Brody was caught. He’s one of the slickest hackers I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a few in my time with the Bureau. What Brody can do with a computer is downright chilling. I’m just glad he’s on our side. Also, if he’d been caught, I am fairly certain Paxton would have given me the heads up, if only so I could cover my own butt.
Which means Paxton went to him directly. I have no idea why he’d do that unless there was some connection between what I’m working on and something Lee is working on. Maybe he thought if he put us together, we’d be able to coordinate with one another to solve it. It’s an odd thought, given his history with the SPD and my own less than glowing impression of them. There’s also the whole SPD rivalry with the Bureau.
They hate us with a passion that’s hotter than the sun, and to be honest, most of the territorial disputes we have with the SPD come from their side. They think our sole agenda is to take cases away from them and make them look like idiots. They don’t need our help for the latter… they do that well enough on their own.
But to be fair, the Bureau does have a history of coming in and bigfooting their cases. Meaning, yeah, we’ve snatched up some high-profile busts in the past. That’s a practice that was stopped twenty years ago, but you’d think we were still doing it judging by the way they act around us. Old grudges die hard with the SPD. If they ever actually die at all.
“Yeah, my understanding was the SPD passed on the Sunderland murder since it was outside city limits,” I say. “We caught it and it led us to Cassie Cooper. More precisely, it led us to realize Cassie Cooper is missing. What we haven’t yet determined is whether she’s missing by her own accord, or by somebody else’s.”
He nods, a rueful grin on his face. “And we’ve been working it the other way. We got her missing persons report and have been trying to find her. I honestly didn’t even know about the fiancé until Arrington called and laid it out for me.”
I cock my head and look at him. This conversation is strange, and I’m not entirely sure where it’s going just yet. I don’t like not knowing where a conversation is going. It makes it hard to predict what’s coming next. And if there’s one thing I hate more than anything, it’s uncertainty. Unpredictability. I like to have a lay of the land before I ever step foot into it. It’s easier to adjust on the fly that way.
But there’s been nothing certain about this since the moment he called me. It has me feeling a little sketchy, but I know enough about Detective Lee to know he’s a straight shooter and that he doesn’t play games. He apparently abhors politics as much as Paxton and I both do. Which is reassuring, since I can feel relatively confident that this isn’t some sort of a trap he’s walking me into.
“All right, so what’s popping on your end, Detective?” I ask. “I assume you didn’t call me out here just to have me try the chow mein.”
He laughs softly. “No. Definitely not. Though I would suggest you try the lo mein. It’s excellent. An old family recipe,” he says.
I give him a smile. “I’ll do that.”
“All right, before I tell you what I have, I want your word that my name will never come up in conjunction with this. In fact, I want your word that after you walk out that door and head back to your shop, that you’ll forget we even had this conversation.”
The earnestness in his tone tells me that whatever he has, it’s big. Big enough to potentially turn my entire investigation on its head. Perhaps that’s being a little dramatic about it, and maybe I’m reading too much into things, but something tells me that I’m not. Something tells me he’s holding that missing piece of the puzzle I’ve been looking for so desperately.
“You have it. You have my word,” I say.
He nods. “For all the differences Paxton and I have, I know that he shoots it straight. He wants what’s best for this city. He doesn’t play around with that,” Lee says. “And if he trusts you, I know that I can too.”
“You absolutely can.”
I lean back in my seat and pick up the cup of tea. Blowing gently on it, I take a sip, letting the warm liquid slip down my throat. It’s got a nice flavor to it. Very soothing with a pleasant aroma as well. Lee leans forward and looks around.
“All right. Then for the last eighteen months or so now, the SPD has been operating a confidential task force. Very hush-hush. The circle is small,” he says.
“Are you part of this task force?”
His laugh is bitter. “No. I’m not,” he says. “I’m not very well-liked or trusted around the department.”
“Because you don’t play games or politics,” I say, filling in the unspoken blank in his sentence.
He grimaces. “I detest them. That’s not why I joined the department. I joined up so I could do some good and maybe save some lives.”
It’s a speech I’m pretty familiar with since I heard it fall out of Paxton’s mouth often enough when he was still with the department.
“Anyway, after Paxton and I spoke－”
“Sorry to interrupt,” I cut him off. “But knowing the history between the Bureau and the SPD, why would Paxton call you?”
“I think he was attempting to be respectful. Or he was trying to be conniving. One of the two, I’m not sure which. But when he had his buddy doing some computer stuff we’ll not speak about here, he must have run into some of the files the task force has on the servers,” Lee explains. “He’s smart enough to know they don’t always have everything digitized and so he called me, filled me in, and asked me to dig up what else I could, then coordinate with you. Said we’d be able to help each other close this thing out.”
“But I thought you weren’t part of the task force?”
“I’m not. He was giving me a chance to go cowboy and show them up,” he says, a small grin tugging on the corner of his mouth. “I know how much he loves smearing egg all over the department’s face, so he wanted me to have the option. Which, strangely enough, I appreciate. I mean, I have no intention of doing that, since I have no desire to go back to riding a patrol car and cutting parking tickets, but I appreciate him giving me the opportunity to choose for myself.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Pax,” I remark with a small laugh.
“Anyway, that’s why I don’t want my name connected to this in any way, shape, or form. If you’re asked, you never got this from me. You have a different source inside the department or something,” he says.
I give him a nod. “Understood. I don’t even know your name.”
Lee gives me a small smile. “I can see why he likes you so much. You seem solid,” he says. “Anyway, Cassie Cooper is not the first late twenties, gorgeous redhead to go missing in Seattle. She’s actually the eighth.”
My eyes widen as I stare at him. “Eighth? You’re kidding me.”
“I wish I was.”
“Okay, so tell me,” I say.
He sighs. “A year and a half ago, I was reviewing missing persons reports and found a connection－”
“Wait, you’re the initiating detective?”
“Yeah, can you believe that? I found the connection, then I got cut out of the task force entirely,” he sighs. “It sucks. But that’s life in the SPD.”
His smile is as bitter as his tone. Now I understand what he meant when he said Paxton might have been trying to show respect. If Brody hacked into the SPD files, they would have seen Lee’s name all over the initiating reports. That’s why Pax called and gave him the option he did. And that’s why Lee called me. If he can’t smear egg in the faces of the SPD brass directly, he can do it through me, then sit back and laugh. It’s backhanded and conniving, but I’ve got to respect it.
“Anyway, near as I can tell, f
or the last seven years, on or around November Third, a redhead with green eyes in her late twenties is snatched up and isn’t heard from again,” he explains. “No forensics, no witnesses, it’s like they just vanished. Cassie Cooper is the eighth.
“And what of the previous seven?”
“They always turn up dead,” he says. “Right around the time the next one is taken. Sylvia Benoit’s body was found three days ago, but it looks like she’d been dumped maybe a week before that.”
A smile stretches across my lips as a thought hits me. “How is it you’re so up to date if you’re locked out of the task force files?”
“Just because I’m not part of the task force doesn’t mean I don’t know how to access the files,” he says. “I keep up on it. I like to know what’s going on and how the investigation is proceeding.”
“And how is it proceeding?”
“About how you’d expect from the SPD.”
“That good, huh?” I ask.
“They’re more interested in optics than they are in results. They’re doing everything they can to keep a lid on all of this. Total media blackout, as well as in house,” he spits with barely concealed disgust. “The guys they have running the task force couldn’t find the killer if he was standing over a body, smoking gun in hand.”
“I’m sorry they locked you out. You deserve better than that,” I tell him.
He gives me a wan smile. “Thanks. I appreciate that,” he says. “Anyway listen, I need to get going. But I think you should have this.”
He slips a thumb drive out of his pocket and slides it across the table to me. I can only guess that he copied all of the task force files and is giving them to me. It’s a big risk for him. One that could end his career and possibly see him sent to prison. But he’s one of those cops who will do everything and risk it all to see the right thing done and a killer brought to justice. My respect for Detective Lee has gone up about a thousand points today.
“Thank you, Detective Lee,” I say as I pick up the thumb drive and slip it into my own pocket. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this. And don’t worry, your name will never be connected to this. You have my word.”
“That’s good enough for me,” he says.
He turns to an older woman who stands hovering in a doorway and says something to her in rapid-fire Chinese. She smiles and turns away, hustling back into the kitchen.
“Hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering lunch for you and your team,” he says. “My mom will make it personally. Should be out shortly, and it’s on the house.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
He takes my hand and gives it a firm squeeze. “No, thank you. If you’re half the investigator Arrington says you are, I know you’ll get justice for these women. Good luck, Agent Wilder.”
“You know,” I say, still clutching his hand. “You and Paxton are actually a lot more alike, with a lot more in common, than you guys let yourselves see.”
He smiles down at me. “Don’t say that. I was just beginning to like you.”
And with that, he leaves the restaurant. Already my stomach is folding over on itself – whether from excitement about this case or just because I’m starving, I don’t know. What I do know is that I can’t wait to get back to the shop, eat, and see what kind of a treasure trove is waiting for me on this thumb drive.
Twenty-One
Criminal Data Analysis Unit; Seattle Field Office
“Okay, before we go any further, am I the only one feeling funny about using stolen files from the Seattle PD?” Mo asks.
Astra looks over at her. “Yes. Yes, you are,” she says. “Now shut up and eat your lo mein. It’s tasty.”
Once upon a time, I would have felt as awkward as Mo does about using material I know to have been purloined to further my own investigation. But that was back when I was young and naive, thought everything in the world was black and white, and that everybody followed the same rules. That naive, innocent Blake died a horrible death when she realized the world doesn’t work that way. We have to be as ruthless as the criminals if we want to stop them.
There are still plenty of lines I won’t cross. I haven’t gone completely rogue, nor will I. For instance, I won’t outright break laws, but I will bend them to their breaking points if it helps me make a case and put a murderer down. The criminals have way too many advantages over us, and there are some things I think we can do, as law enforcement, to level that playing field a bit.
Is using the information Lee gave me ethical? We could probably debate that point. Is it moral? I think taking a murderer down is always the moral thing to do. Will I lose sleep over the fact that Detective Lee gave me a thumb drive filled with files that can help us take a guy who has murdered seven women so far down? Not on your life. It’s not like I broke into Lee’s house and stole the files from him. He gave them to me willingly. Collaboration is the name of the game, right?
If we don’t stop him, who knows how many more women this unsub will go on killing. Especially if this SPD task force is sitting on their hands, doing nothing more than turning oxygen into carbon dioxide and collecting a paycheck for it.
As far as I’m concerned, somebody has to step up and save these women. Detective Lee understands that and he’s betting his whole career on the fact that not only do I get it but that I’m in a position to do something about it. And he’s right. I am and I will.
“Where did you get this thumb drive anyway?” Rick asks.
“I found it inside a fortune cookie,” I reply. “Enough with the questions. Pop it in and let’s see what we have. And don’t worry, guys. If somehow us having this information all goes sideways, all the heat will fall on me. I’ll make sure of it. You guys will be protected.”
Rick chuckles to himself. I know he’s got a bit of that rebellious, screw-authority nature to his personality. He just doesn’t have quite enough of it in him that he’d risk his cushy government paycheck by doing the things Brody does. And I can’t say I blame him for it. I understand his reluctance. And Mo’s. But that’s not going to stop me from using what’s fallen into our laps to help us break this case. If it helps save lives, I don’t care if the information came from Satan himself. I have no qualms about using it. And I know Astra feels the same way.
“Okee-dokee. Here we go then,” Rick says.
His desktop appears on the monitors at the front of the bullpen. He maneuvers his mouse over to the icon for the thumb drive and then opens it. There are eight files on it, each one titled with a woman’s name－the eighth one being Cassie Cooper, of course. Rick’s cursor moves up and down the line of files as he waits for me to tell him which one to open.
“I just want to renew my concern,” Mo says. “I mean, I know the SPD is incompetent as hell, but receiving stolen files might get us into some trouble here.”
“I found it on a table when I was picking up lunch, Mo. Weirdest thing. But I note your concern. I did tell you we operate a little looser around here. We do things differently. But I understand your objection,” I say. “So now is the time to decide whether or not you’re with us. If you’d prefer to take some time off to think about it, or request a transfer back to white collar, I understand. But once I open that file, there is no going back. So make your decision. Nobody’s going to think poorly of you if you decide you don’t want to be a part of this.”
“That’s not true. I probably will,” Rick says sarcastically.
“Not helping, Dicky,” Astra states.
To my surprise though, it gets Mo smiling and shaking her head. I notice that she and Rick have formed a bit of a bond over the short time we’ve all been together, and he can often get her laughing and loose in ways that Astra and I can’t. But when she looks up at me, her expression is sober and contemplative.
“I joined the Bureau to do some good and save lives,” she says. “I can’t say I’m always going to be comfortable with how you run this unit. In fact, I may disagree with things you do now an
d then, and I’m always going to voice my concerns to you. But I think－no, I’m sure－I can do a lot more good here than I can analyzing financial patterns in white collar. I’m in.”
I give her a nod, glad to have her sticking around with us. She’s sharp and is terrific at analyzing data and picking up patterns, which is the foundation of what we do. She might not be good with the grittier side of the job. Maybe that will come in time as she gets used to it, though maybe not－some people are never comfortable around bodies and blood－but I know she’ll be a valuable asset for the team.
More than her skills though, I appreciate that Mo will function as the conscience of the team. I have a strong moral compass and I won’t ever compromise my integrity or cross certain lines. But I’m self-aware enough to know that when I catch the scent of blood, I often push the boundaries. Astra is the same way. So having somebody like Mo, who can put a check on us and force us to step back and look at what we’re doing to keep us on the right side of things, can only benefit us as a whole.
“Good call, Mo. I was afraid you were going to leave before you got me a discount at your tattoo parlor,” Astra says with a smile. “And you’re right, this is where you want to be if you want to save lives. That’s what we do here.”
“All right then. Let’s see what we’ve got,” I say. “Rick, open the files. The first thing I want is a side by side of all the DMV photos.”
“Your wish is my command, jefe,” he says.
A moment later, two rows of four pictures each appear on the monitors. There’s a moment of stunned silence in the room as if everybody drew in a breath at the same time and is holding it. On the monitor are photos of eight women who could be sisters. All redheads with green eyes, who have the same pale, creamy skin.
“I guess our boy has a type,” Astra observes. “And just for the record, I think we can officially throw out my Cassie Cooper did it theory.”
