Silenced

by Allison Brennan

  “Remember, you’re an analyst, and that analyst title is thin, at best. Which means Noah will take the heat if the case goes south and you’re involved. So think twice before you do anything. There is a chain of command for a reason. Use it.”

  “I understand,” she said quietly. She didn’t want Noah to get into any professional trouble because of her, either.

  He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Like I said, you have a good head and good sense. You’ll make a fine agent someday.”

  Lucy forced a smile while she waited for Slater to go back inside. Her chest felt like it was going to split in half.

  Do not cry. Do not cry.

  Matt Slater was right. It didn’t matter how much experience she had, she wasn’t an agent.

  She practically ran to the Metro station, wishing for the first time she had a car so she could sit behind the wheel and cry in private.

  * * *

  “Sorry I’m late,” Matt Slater said as he walked into the conference room.

  Noah caught his eye, but couldn’t read Matt’s expression. He knew his boss was angry with what had transpired yesterday, but Noah thought he’d fixed the problem. He wished he hadn’t had to pull Lucy off the Wendy James case, especially now. Her insight would be invaluable.

  Yet, she had frozen yesterday in the linen closet. Noah didn’t think she’d even noticed she didn’t move for more than a minute. Just stood there, hunched over, staring at the back wall, not doing anything.

  Noah knew she still battled panic attacks on occasion, but until now he’d never seen it while she was working. But last night, the brief hesitation, and then this morning at the Red Light Motel it was obvious.

  Frankly, he was concerned. If she panicked at the wrong time, it could put the lives of fellow agents in jeopardy.

  He adjusted his seat. He was also worried about Lucy, personally. Working with her he realized she put the weight of every case, no matter how big or small, on her shoulders. She internalized it, rather than compartmentalizing.

  He had asked Slater to bring Dr. Hans Vigo, a forensic psychologist and assistant director from national headquarters, in for a preliminary psych analysis on Wendy James’s killer, but he also had an ulterior motive. Hans Vigo had been the one to clear Lucy for the Academy, after she failed her first psych profile. Noah needed to know that she wasn’t going to have a breakdown on the job. Not just for his safety, or her future partner, but for her.

  Miriam Douglas and Henry Archer from cyber crimes were in the room along with Josh Stein, Slater, and Hans. Noah pushed aside his thoughts about Lucy.

  Slater asked, “What’s the word on apartment seven-ten?”

  Henry said, “The cables and wires are consistent with audio and video recording equipment, but we found no equipment anywhere in either seven-ten or Wendy James’s apartment. We sent her laptop to the lab as a priority, hoping they can rebuild deleted files, but our examination indicates they were deleted by a high-end erase program. It’s doubtful we can get anything from it.”

  “What about other apartments in the building?” Slater asked.

  Noah was about to respond when Stein said, “I’m working with the U.S. Attorney’s office on warrants for all executive apartments, but the management company is balking. We asked, they refused, we got the warrant for number seven-ten”—he shot Noah a dirty look—“after we nearly blew the case searching without one.”

  Noah wasn’t going to let that comment stand. “We had the express written permission of the manager to search that apartment, and the general warrant for James’s residence covered our subsequent searches.”

  “As soon as you found the first hidden compartment you should have sealed the room and contacted me.”

  Stein wasn’t budging, but neither was Noah. “We didn’t know what was in there until we found it.”

  “If this case gets blown because of an illegal search, I’ll have your badge.”

  Slater put up his hands. “No one is stripping badges. Precedent allows management to give access, and we got the warrant before a full and complete search. There was no fishing on this one, it’s a gray area, but the law is on our side.”

  “I want Crowley. We have to do this right,” Stein said.

  “If Wendy James was making sex tapes, that opens up a whole array of possible suspects,” Noah said.

  “Who? We have no evidence of other affairs, other than Congressman Bristow who, by the way, has also lawyered up.” Stein was turning red in frustration.

  Hans spoke up. “I think we’re all missing an important component here. Did Ms. James clear out the apartment? Was she the only one who used it?”

  Slater asked, “Where are we with the rentals?”

  Miriam spoke up. “The last lease was for one week, the governor of Oregon. That was over a month ago. Before that was ten days for an environmental protection organization that was lobbying Congress, before that a one-month stay, the wife of an alternative energy executive, then a long dry period. In February, a union representative stayed for two weeks. I’m digging deeper, seeing if any of them had meetings with Congressman Crowley or Congressman Bristow. We should send agents to interview each of them, none are local.”

  “Miriam,” Slater said, “contact each local agency and brief them. We need the interviews stat.”

  Hans said, “Tell them to go in easy, no hint that we think they were recorded. I suspect if they were being blackmailed, as soon as the Park Way apartment is mentioned they’ll show signs of distress. Tell them to be on the lookout for not only the standard signs, but subtle clues. Anyone who acts suspicious or nervous, we’ll look at harder.”

  “But Crowley’s the one who’s sitting in Congress and admitted to having an affair with her!” Stein exclaimed. “It all comes back to him.”

  “Who tipped off the media?” Hans asked. “Maybe Wendy tried to blackmail him and he didn’t bite, so she released the photographs.”

  “The pictures weren’t taken in seven-ten,” Miriam said. “We believe they were taken at a local hotel, and we’re working on finding the exact location.”

  “Let me know,” Slater said.

  “None of that means Crowley didn’t kill her—or have her killed,” Stein said.

  Noah had had it with Stein. “Why do you want him so badly? What if he’s just an asshole who cheated on his wife?”

  “Get off my case,” Stein said.

  Hans intervened. “Crowley is arrogant and didn’t want to be caught in the affair—or, if it was blackmail, he didn’t want anyone to know, but he had no reason to kill Wendy James.”

  “Except for what she was going to tell the U.S. Attorney this week,” Stein said.

  “But you don’t know what she was going to say,” Hans said. “She could have been nervous about being interviewed. Her personal life had just been exposed by the media and she lost her job because of it. She was under a great deal of stress, and no grand jury is going to take that one interview where she lied about an affair with another congressman as evidence that she had some damning information against Crowley.”

  “It’s too much of a coincidence,” Stein said.

  “It seems that way, and I’m not saying that her murder isn’t connected in some way to Crowley, but his alibi cleared and so far his finances have held up and there’s no evidence he hired someone to kill her. It could be if she did blackmail him that he released the pictures so as not to be under her thumb.”

  Noah hadn’t thought of that angle, but it made sense. “And all the lies about the affair, the subsequent apology—?”

  “To make it seem like a common affair, when it was anything but.”

  “What about the murder itself?” Noah asked Hans.

  “It doesn’t look like a professional hit to me.”

  “What do you think it is, Dr. Vigo?” Slater asked.

  Hans flipped through the crime scene photos. “I’ve only given a cursory glance at the report. The killer may not have known her, but he knew of her
. He may have spoken to her on occasion, but he wasn’t close to her. I don’t think this was a random crime, it was definitely premeditated. There’s something odd about it, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “What about the way she was strangled?” Noah asked. He glanced at Stein. He couldn’t mention Lucy’s name without getting Stein’s panties in a twist, so he kept his comment vague. “The coroner said she was strangled from behind.”

  Hans stared at the photo of the victim’s throat. “That is odd. I don’t think I’ve seen this before. And she wasn’t raped?”

  Before Noah could speak, Stein said, “Attempted.”

  “There’s no evidence of an attempted rape,” Noah said.

  “Her pants were pulled down and he wrote on her ass,” Stein snapped.

  “Respect for the dead, Agent Stein,” Hans snapped.

  Stein mumbled an apology, then continued. “My guess is that Crowley hired a lowlife to kill her. If she attempted to blackmail him, that gives him motive. The killer got his hands on her and got horny, wanted to rape her, but lost his nerve.”

  “If someone like Crowley hired a professional hit man, James would either never be found, or her death would be made to look like an accident,” Hans said.

  “Or,” Stein pushed, “a random crime.”

  Hans conceded that point. “Possibly.”

  “We have no other directions to go in.”

  Slater leaned back in his chair. “Nothing on the security cams, nothing useful on her computer—yet. Several potential suspects to interview based on room seven-ten. She may have been juggling more than one guy.”

  “Multiple affairs,” Hans said. “Have you identified any of the other men, other than Bristow?”

  “Bristow is single, no big scandal for him to be sleeping around,” Slater said. “No one has come forward, and she didn’t keep records.”

  “That’s another odd thing,” Noah said. “We couldn’t find a calendar in her apartment or on her computer.”

  “Hmm.” Hans looked again at the photo. “We definitely need more information. If there was blackmail involved. If there were other men. If there was a financial or other motive.”

  “Financial is easy to track,” Stein said.

  “If not financial, then what? If not for money, why blackmail a congressman?”

  “Votes!” Stein slapped his palm on the table. “I’m on it.”

  “It’s right up your alley,” Slater said.

  “Can I go?”

  “I think we’re done here.”

  “Agreed,” Hans said. “But I can tell you two things about the killer. First, this isn’t the first time he’s killed. And second, this is not a sexual crime.”

  “You’re sure?” Stein asked as he stood at the door, rolling on the balls of his feet. Noah cringed. Hans Vigo was one of the sharpest, most experienced forensic profilers in the FBI. While Hans appreciated thoughtful analysis and disagreement, Stein’s flip comment was inappropriate and disrespectful.

  “Yes, Agent Stein, I’m certain,” Hans said.

  Stein was properly repentant. “Thank you, Dr. Vigo.” He quickly walked out.

  Miriam and Henry followed, both seeming eager to put in another couple of hours even though it was already past dinnertime.

  Hans said to Slater, “Why was Lucy Kincaid pulled from the James homicide? She probably could have told you exactly what I just did.”

  Noah was about to speak when Slater said, “She doesn’t have the experience to work this case. We can’t have internal bickering over how we deal with witnesses, or worse, having the press call into question anything we do. It’s better that she steers clear. I know she’s a friend of yours, Hans, and I’m sorry, but right or wrong, Josh nixed her and this is his case.”

  “I’m not questioning your decisions. I came here to provide a psychological profile of the killer, which I did. I’d also suggest something you already know—if this is blackmail, there’s more than one person involved. There’s nothing in Wendy James’s background that suggests she had the technical skills necessary to create an elaborate system as what you suspect was in apartment seven-ten.”

  “We’re already on that angle, Hans. Thank you.”

  “Anytime. I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Actually,” Noah said, “if you have a minute, I’ll give you a rundown on the prostitute Nicole Bellows. It’s the case Lucy is working on. She sent me a report.”

  “You assigned her to DC?”

  “It’s the best way to keep her involved without crossing paths with Stein,” Noah said. He walked over to the printer and pulled the report.

  While Hans read it, Slater rose from his chair and stretched. “I’m outta here. I’m already late for the Nationals game, but I should get there by the fourth inning.”

  “Good to see you, as always, Matt,” Hans said, shaking his hand, then going back to the report.

  “There was a number written on the victim’s hand?” Hans asked. “To where?”

  “It was a virtual number. You buy a virtual number from a company to give to people who you don’t want to have your real number. Like an answering service, only when the person dials the number, it gets transferred to whatever phone you want. Popular with doctors, lawyers, CEOs, and not surprisingly, criminals.”

  “It would make sense for a prostitute to use such a service,” Hans concurred. “A way for her regular clients to contact her.”

  “But the number was written on the victim’s hand, so likely someone gave her the number. DC is working on getting warrants for the phone records to find out who bought the number and where it’s forwarded, but Detective Reid doesn’t expect to have anything until tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Do you have a picture of the message the killer left?”

  Noah slid a printout over to the psychologist.

  Hans studied the message for a long minute. The silence in the room would have been unnerving to most, but Noah found peace in this process. Like his years in the Air Force, his success was based on gathering information, analyzing, and acting.

  “Do you know if he brought the rat with him?” Hans asked.

  “We have no evidence either way, but DC sent the rat to our lab for dissection. Our people think they can analyze the stomach and tissue samples and determine what area of the city it came from.”

  Hans nodded. “I think we can assume the rat was found in the motel room or on the premises. It was certainly killed there, and unless the killer was carrying the rodent in a cage—which would have brought undue attention—he probably acted spontaneously. The question to me is did he intend to leave a message before he saw the rat? Or was the message a last-minute idea?”

  Hans continued with his theory. “I suspect the message was spontaneous, but accurate. He is planning on killing six women. He certainly has killed before. You don’t slit someone’s throat that deep, with no hesitation, without some experience in murder. He went in with purpose.” Hans frowned as he flipped through the pages of the report.

  “See something?” Noah asked.

  “Lucy wrote that the victim had lived in the neighborhood until nine months ago. Where has she lived since? Why did she come back?”

  Noah said, “Detective Reid is following up on the prostitution angle. It’s a violent business. Not just the sex trade, but drug use and distribution, money laundering, you name it.”

  “Don’t be surprised if another prostitute ends up dead in the near term. The killer is a sociopath—cold, calculating, remorseless, no empathy with his victims—but he’s not a psychopath. He has a purpose and isn’t killing for emotional release. This, however,” Hans tapped on the photo of the rat, “is his own personal game. He doesn’t care if the cops see it. He’s of above-average intelligence, but thinks he’s smarter than he is, and smarter than everyone else. Truly, one of the most dangerous types of killers I’ve encountered. He’ll kill again before anyone catches him, but it’ll be his own arrogance that will bring him do
wn.”

  Noah thanked Hans for his analysis and walked him to the front of the building. He’d always admired the assistant director for his ability to see things no one else saw. Noah preferred facts and physical evidence, while Hans—a lot like Lucy—saw what was just beneath the surface.

  “How is Lucy?” Hans asked when they were alone.

  “The same.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  Noah wasn’t surprised that Hans had picked up on the tension. Noah had no intention of formally reprimanding Lucy for her insubordination, but it had deeply bothered him that she had been so brazen completely ignoring protocol. He worried he had been wrong in his recommendation to approve her for the Academy. He saw for the first time what the original interview panel had seen—her tunnel vision when it came to victims. He didn’t know how she could remain so deeply involved with the dead. How could she survive day after day, year after year, working cases like the one they were at today? She hadn’t had the same reaction to the Wendy James murder.

  “Noah?”

  “I’ve been working with Lucy for two months now, and she’s been an asset as an analyst. Diligent. Methodical. Very smart. But today—I saw a side of her I haven’t seen before, and I’m not sure I like it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I read all the transcripts from her two FBI interviews.”

  “Those aren’t public.”

  “She’s working under me, I had a right to access them. I know you’ve read them.”

  Hans nodded his head once, but didn’t comment.

  “Are you at all worried that she might snap?”

  “What happened that has you concerned?”

  Lucy’s insubordination wasn’t the issue. Noah preferred working with people who had strong opinions and weren’t afraid to share them, as long as when decisions were made and orders given that those decisions and orders were followed to the letter. But Noah kept replaying the morning. Not focusing solely on Lucy’s words, but also on her behavior. It wasn’t just when she jumped in about taking the case. It was before that, when she stepped into the room and looked like she was about to collapse.