by Mary Eason
“Yes, I know.”
“What happens next?” Ed addressed this question to Agents Brady and Hays. “My two companions on the ride over weren’t very informative.”
Agent Hays was quick to assert his meager authority. “You’ll all be placed into protective custody until the killer is caught, which means a safe house. But you shouldn’t worry. It’s only a matter of time.”
Ed accepted the agent’s answer without question.
“Want some coffee, hon?” Bev tried to smile, but there was no masking her worry. Bev wanted time alone with her husband. Ed followed his wife over to the coffeepot and they spoke quietly to each other.
Anna picked up her cup in one hand while clutching Gemma close with the other and headed for one of the conference room chairs away from everyone else. She hated bringing her family into this thing once more. She hated being part of it. Reliving the past and its mistakes was like ripping the scab off a wound. The pain at times was unbearable.
Chapter Seven
“So.”
John had been ticking off the seconds in his head, wondering how long it would take his partner to ask the first question. They’d barely cleared the curb.
John tossed Rick a warning glance. “So what?”
Rick blew out an exaggerated breath. “Oh come on. You’re gonna play dumb with me? Give me a break. The village idiot could pick up on all the tension between you two. “
John decided to give it one last try. “She blames me for Aaron’s death—”
“You know what I mean. I want to know how long you and she were—”
“Watch it…”
“An item.” Rick amended. “How long were you and Anna sleeping together?”
The judgment in Rick’s tone was easy to pick up on. John glanced over at him. He never would have pictured Rick being conservative. “Look, it’s complicated.”
“By that you mean you have feelings for her. Oh, I get that. Still.”
“You don’t approve,” John answered for him. "Does it help you to know she was divorced at the time?"
Rick shrugged in an effort to convey neutrality but John caught the hardening around his mouth. “Can’t say that I approve. But then, I don’t know the circumstances, do I?”
“No you don’t.”
“And you’re not going to talk about it are you?”
“Nope.”
“All right, then maybe you’d care to tell me what the AD had to say. You know it’s my butt in the sling along with yours, buddy.”
John slanted another assessing glance Rick’s way. “You’re right. About everything. I screwed things up with her, should have done things differently, but I love her.”
Rick was at a loss for words for a moment. “I see. And does she…”
“I don’t know. She’s still so angry with me, with the world. Herself." He shook his head. "I don’t know.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, all that anger has to be masking something more. What lead were you talking about back there? Where are we going?”
“I think we should re-interview some of the victims’ families. See if perhaps they remember something they didn’t in the past. And to answer your previous question, the AD is pissed, but with what happened last night, well, let’s just say we have a job, at least for the time being.”
John spotted a coffee shop and whipped into a vacant parking spot. Rick cocked an eyebrow at his partner's motives.
"I think I owe you something in the way of an explanation. You deserve to know the truth. Everything that led up to Aaron's death."
They ordered coffee and found an empty booth away from the few patrons in the place.
Rick drummed his fingers and whistled under breath to get his point across.
“All right, give me a second. This is hard,” John finally told him. “Look, Aaron Sorenson was not only my mentor, he was my friend. I respected the hell out of him. I was just a cocky rookie who thought he knew everything when Aaron recruited me. He made me into the agent I am today. I owe him everything.” That certainly was true enough. It was the way he’d repaid his friend that stuck in his head, torturing him every single day that he lived and his partner didn’t.
“I get that. Sorenson was a legend at the academy and around the Bureau halls. Everything I heard about him spoke of a stellar reputation. So why all the secrecy?”
John couldn’t hold onto the intensity in Rick’s gaze. He suspected his partner had figured out a whole lot more than he was letting on. “Aaron let the case get personal. He was having an affair with Cheryl Larsen.”
Rick didn’t seem surprised. “I guessed as much. Why else would he go after Peterson the way he did. What I don’t understand is why? Did Peterson catch him with Cheryl Larsen? Was he worried about how it would look if the Bureau found out he was screwing a witness? It wouldn’t be good, but I doubt he’s the first person to have an affair with a witness. He and Anna were divorced by then, right.”
John gave him a “bingo” look. “Aaron had gotten involved with Cheryl long before the divorce.”
Rick sucked in a breath. “How’d Sorenson let that happen?”
At Rick’s naïve question, John actually smirked. Had the man never been in love, or at least lust, for God’s sake? “I guess Aaron was thinking with other parts of his body when it came to Cheryl Larsen.” John certainly understood the concept. He’d thrown every sense of training and caution to the wind when it came to his own relationship with Anna, telling himself it was okay. After all, she was divorced and Aaron had cheated on her.
He shook his head. “Look, I’m not going to try and defend his actions or mine for that matter. Aaron was having an affair with Cheryl long before the first Rock Creek killer emerged. Years maybe. That’s why he took such a personal interest in Cheryl’s stalking case.”
Rick’s gaze never left his. “Damn.” He breathed out the word, his tone coming as close to astonishment as it got for Rick. “Still, I don’t buy it. He obviously framed an innocent man.”
“Peterson wasn’t innocent. He was obsessed with Cheryl Larsen. He followed her everywhere. She was terrified of him.”
“But he didn’t kill her.” Rick stated the obvious.
No, Peterson hadn’t killed Cheryl. He’d killed Aaron and in the process, he’d destroyed all their lives.
“I read the Larsen file. Aaron was convinced Peterson was the killer without any substantiating evidence. He went after Peterson even before Cheryl’s murder. He stepped over the line because of her.”
John certainly couldn’t deny it, but he wasn’t prepared to share the extent of those secrets with Rick. Not now. Not after seeing the woman he hadn’t been able to get out of his head.
“This is getting us nowhere. If you want to ruin the reputation of one of the Bureau’s best agents then go ahead. If you want to help me solve this case before another innocent victim is murdered then let’s go over the facts as we know them.”
“As we know them or as you’re willing to share them?” Rick stared at him across his steaming cup. When John made no attempt to dignify the remark, Rick blew out an annoyed sigh. “Okay, got it. Let’s go over the facts again.”
Rick picked up the case files John had brought with them. It was from the original murders, while John tried to control the shakes. He thought he’d buried deep Aaron and his own lies. He thought that with Aaron’s death their secrets were safe. He’d been wrong.
And now two more women were dead and Anna’s life was in danger.
“Janice Daniels, thirty-three, the first victim. Her body was found a short distance from the central jogging path behind some scrubs. Stabbed forty plus times, the killer’s rage was obvious. Two weeks later, Belinda Cardwell—” Rick broke off as the coffee house clerk, sloshing coffee from a full pot, headed their way. John waved her off. Coffee could wait. No one needed to hear these things. They were bad enough for a seasoned professional.
“Belinda Cardwell, twenty-seven, was found at the opposi
te end of the park, same basic MO. The killer stabbed her thirty-nine times. I guess he got tired.”
“Or someone interrupted him.”
“Both women weren’t killed at the park. Their bodies had been transported there. The killer wanted them found but he didn’t want to be caught. The park is usually very busy during the daytime. He must have dropped them off sometime between sunset and dawn. Which leaves an awful lot of time for the killer to work with.
“Then there’s Cheryl Larsen,” Rick concluded.
“Wait a minute. Let’s hold off on Cheryl for a second. We found prior notes at both Janice Daniels and Belinda Cardwell’s homes, correct?”
“Yes. But neither woman appeared worried about them. Or, if they were they didn’t make a report, tell a friend. And neither reported having any problems until they ended up dead. Only Cheryl. And as I recall, there was no mention of a note in Cheryl’s file.”
John was conscious of Rick analyzing his reaction. Rick thought he knew more about the case than was reported in the files. He was right.
His partner drained his cup then got to his feet. “I’m going for more. Want some?” John handed him his cup without answering. He picked up the plastic evidence bag that held the note from Janice Daniels’ place. If it weren’t for the murders, the note left at the victims’ homes prior to their deaths could mean anything. With the exception of Cheryl Larsen. Or so John’d thought, until Aaron confessed Cheryl had turned the note over to him.
Beloved, now that I’ve found you again. I will never let you go. You will be with me soon. And always.
“You know, something’s always bugged me about the way the case played out,” Rick said as he held out John’s coffee and slid into his vacated chair, sipping his own.
John shoved the note back into the file and accepted the cup Rick held out to him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, for one, why did Sorenson think Peterson was the killer? How did he even come up with him as a suspect?”
“You mean did he do it because Cheryl told him about Peterson and the restraining order?”
Rick nodded. “Was Sorenson the one who had Cheryl file the order?”
John accepted the angry undertone in Rick’s voice without comment. “No, I don’t think so. Anyway, we analyzed the note, found out only a few places in D.C. sold that particular type of red parchment paper. Aaron discovered Peterson worked at one of those places. He had easy access to the paper and he was stalking Cheryl Larsen.”
“Hum, okay, so what about Cheryl? The killer didn’t send her a note, there was nothing in the—” Rick’s gaze narrowed as he studied John and then it hit him. “But he did, didn’t he? You and Sorenson just left it out of the file.”
John slowly nodded. No point in denying it. “Yes. I found out about the note after Cheryl’s death. Aaron was convinced he’d found the Rock Creek killer.”
Rick shook his head, his disgust easy to read. “Why’d Sorenson keep the note from the file? Was he afraid of getting caught in the affair?”
John wished he knew the real answer to that question, but Aaron’s actions in those final months had been anything but rational. “All he told me was that he was afraid the note contained something that might incriminate him.” John spotted Rich’s confusion and tried to explain. “I think it was more like he was afraid Anna would learn about the affair. He might not have wanted to be married to her anymore, but he didn't want her to know about his infidelity either.”
Rick kept his opinion confined to his disgusted expression.
Outside the sun rose high above the nation’s capital.
For many, D.C. represented security and power. But even here, evil existed. Just as it had before.
* * * * *
Janice Daniels’ parents still lived in the same Roanoke neighborhood they had the night John and Aaron had to bring the worst possible news to them.
A quiet middle-class area where most of the houses had been around since the Nixon administration.
John glanced at his watch. Eleven-fifteen. That moment in time would stand out in his memory forever.
Rick glanced his way, sensing his mood. “What if they’re at work? What do they do for a living?”
“The wife was a homemaker. She volunteered at the hospital a couple of days a week. The husband worked for an insurance firm in the city.”
When his first barrage of rings didn’t illicit any answer, John resorted to banging on the door.
“Whoa, buddy, lighten up. We want their help. Remember, as far as they’re concerned we had their daughter’s killer in prison.”
John spotted the morning paper lying on the front porch. The headline announced the worst was yet to come.
Rock Creek Killer Returns. Did Feds Put The Wrong Man In Jail For The Wrong Reasons?
He picked it up and handed it to Rick. “Not anymore.”
“Dammit,” Rick whispered under his breath. “This isn’t good.”
The door opened and Frank Daniels stood in the doorway.
“Yes?” It took him a second longer to recognize John. “Agent Delaney.” It occurred to John that the older man wasn't surprised to see him.
“Come inside. I’ve been expecting you.” Frank Daniels opened the door and waved them inside.
John waited until they’d taken the proffered seats on the living room sofa before beginning. “I need to ask you some questions about Janice’s life.” He’d racked his brain trying to think of some common denominator between the victims. He’d come up empty.
“So is it true then?” The old man had aged ten years since John had last spoken to him.
“Yes. We believe so.”
“How it that possible, Agent Delaney? You assured us you had Janice’s killer.”
John wondered where the man’s wife might be. “I know. We were certain of it. But in the light of this new evidence, the two new cases and some other information, well, we now believe George Peterson is not the man responsible for Janice’s death or the others. He is, however, still guilty of killing a federal agent.”
“And that’s the real reason why the case ended so abruptly, isn’t it. Because Peterson killed one of yours, the Bureau was eager to put an end to the whole thing. Sweep it under the rug.”
John couldn’t blame the man for being angry. “That’s not what happened. My partner believed the evidence gathered against Peterson was enough to prove he was the Rock Creek killer.”
Frank Daniels wasn’t impressed with John’s passionate plea. “And now we know the truth.”
“Yes, I guess we do.”
“And you’ve come to me, for what? To dig into my daughter’s life some more. Try to find some dirt on her?”
“No sir. That’s not the case at all. I’m just hoping that you or your wife might remember something new. Something that didn’t occur to you at the time. Something that might help us connect the cases.”
“My wife can’t help you. You see she passed away six months ago. She finally gave up.”
John could see the depth of the man’s pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry…I didn’t know.”
The old man simply nodded. “So what do you need from me?”
If only John knew the answer. He had no idea what to ask. It occurred to him the old man’s description of his wife’s death was odd. “What did you mean she finally gave up?”
The question clearly surprised Frank Daniels. “My wife’s health had been failing for years. She finally gave up.”
“Was it…” How was the best way to ask the man how his wife had passed?
“Her kidneys, the doctors tell me, among other things. They finally gave out on her.”
John glanced over at Rick. His partner, who had been busily scribbling notes, glanced up at the latest piece of information. “Your wife had kidney problems? Did your daughter suffer from the same illness?”
Rick’s question didn’t add up to John. It was even more perplexing for the old man. “Yes, to a much greater extent. How did you k
now?"
"Just a hunch, I guess." Rick told him.
Daniels accepted his answer without questioning it. "Janice had to have a kidney transplant when she was twelve. Since that time, well, she was able to live a normal life for the most part, with the exception of having to take daily medication. A small price to pay for being whole again.”
He knew what Rick was thinking. “Can you think of anything else that might seem out of the ordinary? Anything at all,” his partner asked.
The old man took a moment to consider the question. “Janice was getting married in eight months. But then you knew that.”
John nodded. They’d checked the fiancé out thoroughly for any possible connection to the others. There hadn’t been one. He’d been cleared early on.
John got to his feet. They needed to check on the other victims. It might be a long shot, but at the moment he’d take it. It was the only new piece of evidence they’d come across. “Yes sir. Thank you for your time, Mr. Daniels. We’ll show ourselves out. As soon as we have anything at all I’ll pass it along to you.”
Once they were in the car, John ran with Rick’s line of thought. “We need to check on the other victims’ medical history. See if they had any medical treatment around the same time as Janice Daniels.”
His partner’s question wasn’t any great surprise. “How’d that piece of information get overlooked in the first investigation?”
“I guess the ME didn’t think it was important, maybe. In other words, I don’t know.”
He started the car’s engine while Rick continued voicing doubts. “You know this is a long shot, don’t you? I mean even if Janice Daniels and Belinda Cardwell, or any of the other victims did have a transplant, the odds of all of them having the same medical history is slim. And what about Anna Sorenson? How does she fit in?”
John dismissed Rick’s argument, although he’d wondered the same himself. “I don’t know and I don’t care at this point. Dammit, this is something. Hell, it’s all we got.”
Rick nodded. “Yeah, it’s something new and it’s more than we had yesterday. The question is, what about the other victims. We’ll never get their medical records pulled in time.”
