Carolina Rain

by Rick Murcer

  Reaching behind him, Braxton pulled a stack of files from a chair and handed them out. Manny was once again struck by the size of the big man’s hands. He was glad Braxton was one of the good guys.

  “Manny reviewed the file a couple of weeks before, then five days ago, Alex and Dean processed the body and Garity’s possessions and you know they found Max’s hair in one of Garity’s shoes. At least it was consistent with Max’s hair at about 95.8 match probability. I’ll save you some reading and let you know there didn’t seem to be any other trace evidence that was out of the realm with where Garity might have been over the last few months. Most of the trace had to do with his time in the Carolinas. But you’re welcome to review and let me know if you see something our folks, and your lab in Quantico, didn’t see,” said Braxton.

  “Damn. You guys do have your hands into everything,” Alex said. “It’s no secret that they must have had a mutual source of contact, or were in the same place, we all believe that. The questions are where, when, and how? Like I said to Manny, they could have been in the same place, just at different times. Even one of the flights on which Garity was a pilot.”

  “You’re right. But what about degradation rates? I mean wouldn’t Max’s hair degrade at the same rate as Garity’s?” asked Manny.

  Alex picked up the copy of Braxton’s file, then waved his right hand like he wanted to ask a question.

  Dean laughed.

  “Damn Williams, why don’t you just do our job too? Another question you already know the answer to, right? At any rate, that’s one of the analyses we were waiting on and, on page nine, it shows that both hairs had consistent exposure to water,” said Alex.

  “What does that mean?” asked Sophie.

  “It means that they probably saw each other, or were in the same place, within twelve hours before Garity bit the big one,” said Dean.

  “But how in the hell could that happen? Come on. Max was in the loony bin until two days ago and Garity was shot thirteen days before. We already know that Garity didn’t visit Max, so what gives?” asked Sophie.

  Alex shrugged. “Like I always say, you guys need to put the puzzle together, we just give you pieces.”

  “What about ballistics?” asked Josh.

  “I wish it was like da movies and there was some magical match there. Da truth is, there was nothing, mostly because da bullets were hollow points and exploded after they bounced around in his brain. We haven’t got much info on Tucker’s gunshots. Da preliminary says it was probably the same caliber, a .38.”

  He was doing it again, switching from perfect English to a slight Caribbean dialect. Manny wasn’t even sure why it bothered him and he was positive that Braxton didn’t realize he was switching back and forth.

  Later, Williams. Later.

  “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, the same killer was involved with both murders; what does that imply? I mean, the gun match will never be one-hundred percent so we have to take a leap here. Let’s go back to the match of Max’s hair in Garity’s shoe,” said Manny. “How could that have really happened?”

  Silence, in this case, wasn’t golden. Manny could almost hear the thoughts of his friends and fellow agents running through the possibilities. He wondered if anyone had thought of the third option, which he’d guessed was probably the right one. But the ramifications were unthinkable.

  “Spill it, Williams, your hand hasn’t stopped playing with your mop for thirty seconds,” said Sophie.

  Putting his hand in his lap, he sighed. “I suppose it hasn’t. What if that hair wasn’t a result of them being anywhere near each other?”

  “How’s that possible? It had . . .” Sophie’s eyes grew wide.

  Good girl.

  “Oh shit. You think that Max’s hair was planted in Garity’s shoe?”

  CHAPTER-47

  Returning from the front room to take a call, Chloe took in Gavin’s expression and felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach.

  Seeing her face, he quickly shook his head.

  “Don’t worry, everyone’s okay. Apparently they had a break in the case and, after they wrap up a few things, they’ll be on the way home. Josh said they were going into a series of meetings and that Manny didn’t call because he wants to surprise you. Corner made me promise not to say anything. Then again, I never did like the Feds that much, present company excluded.”

  There it was again, that wife of a cop rollercoaster playing hell on her heartstrings and her blood pressure. How could anyone ever get used to this?

  She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “You had me worried. That’s the best news I’ve heard in three days.”

  “I know.” His eyes looked away from her, then back. “There is some bad news too. They found Max Tucker’s body in a rest area near Asheville, North Carolina. He was shot twice in the head.”

  “What?” Her heart dropped again. Her friendship with Max had been a real one. Even though that friendship had dissipated when Max had changed, she’d thought maybe someday he’d come back around.

  “Do they know what happened or how he got down there?”

  “No details for me. Manny just wanted you to know. He said you and he would talk more when they got here.”

  She nodded. “I guess that will have to do. Poor Max. Led to a dark side he didn’t think he’d see, then it ends like this.”

  Gavin’s face changed and the melancholy countenance he wore from time to time waltzed back.

  “I know that one, firsthand. Stella will always be my wife; the other Stella was someone I'd never met,” he said quietly.

  “What a profession we’ve taken on, ya know,” she answered.

  The chief seemed to gather enough strength to push away a haunt that would be his for the rest of his life.

  “Speaking of work, I need to take care of a couple things at the office. I’ll be back this afternoon. It’s okay for Jen to drive to school now that we know where Max isn’t.”

  “Sounds right.”

  “Also, don’t do anything with that disc, or call Manny. I understand the time constraints, but Argyle’s probably blowing smoke up our collective arses so I’ve got some questions for our computer folks first, mainly, can what Argyle claims to be true, really be true? And I trust Buzzy Dancer better than most.”

  “Okay, Gavin, for you. But we can’t wait too long. What if Argyle’s telling the truth? The longer we wait, maybe more people will die.”

  “Again, I get that. Only this seems far-fetched, even for his dead, ugly ass. I’ll get back with you soon.”

  An hour later, she stood looking out the window. Jen had gone to school and her mum was in the shower. She respected Gavin. Still, she was torn. She wanted to call Manny but he had enough on his plate. Hell, they all did. But she couldn’t shake the temptation. The cell phone felt like a hot poker in her back pocket. She took it out, put it back in, and then took it out again. She started to dial, then put it back in her jeans.

  For one of the few times in her life, Chloe was unsure of what to do. She walked back into the small kitchen and fingered the edge of the case that had held the disc apparently produced by a dead serial killer. Not only that, but a genius who had a way with people that bordered on disturbing. Argyle had been a psychiatrist, which meant he’d also been a medical doctor. While she bought into Manny’s theory of cult leaders and how they influenced people from all walks, she also wondered just how much Argyle utilized hypnotism. For someone like Argyle, the sky could be the limit for any mind-altering goal. It also leant certain credence to the way he wanted to leave his legacy. Chloe had talked about that very thing with her Manny before they were married. He had thought she had some points. The thing is that Manny is more from the old school that said people wouldn’t do something unless they really wanted to deep down inside. He was probably right, he usually was, but it was a brave new world these days. The impossible, the science fiction, was much closer to reality than at any time in history and . . .

  Catc
hing herself diving into a pool that had no bottom, she shook her head. None of that mattered now, did it? Theory wasn’t on her mind, her mother was. Her concern, her angst had to do with one thing: Haley Rose Franson and whether she was her own woman, or something else entirely. It sounded so damned insane, but Max Tucker, and probably Mike Garity, had been changed men. Bright professionals that had found a horrific path based on promises from a madman, and they weren’t the first throughout history.

  Added to that, who had spent more time with Argyle before Manny punched his ticket than her mother? She’d eaten with him, danced with him, and slept with him. That made her a prime candidate for conversion to his way of thinking, even Chloe realized that.

  If she called Manny and told him what her mum had brought with her from across the pond, his first thought—and maybe rightfully so—would probably go there. Well, maybe not his first, but he’d get there because she had. Then it would begin. Testing. Questioning of motives, trust issues, and the worst-case scenario—What if her mother were truly under Argyle’s influence? Someone could die.

  Moving back to the front window, she felt the warm spring sun touch her face and leaned toward it. Light usually made things clearer, at least to her, but not this time. The X-factor in all of this was the strength of character and conviction that had been Haley Rose’s special trademark. She had always lived as a strong-minded woman. But Argyle had been far more than a serial killer and that made her nervous.

  Come on Chloe. This is your mum, for crying out loud.

  She sighed and eventually her eyes rested on the mailbox. She hadn’t gotten yesterday’s mail. She immediately walked to the door and turned the doorknob and pulled it open, waiting. A few seconds later, Sampson flew around the corner, ears high, and she swore he was wearing a grin. The dog loved to go with her to get the mail, and she always enjoyed his company.

  Reaching the black box, she swung it open and pulled out the content. Junk mail, more political crap, and a small padded envelope mailed from North Carolina. It was hand-addressed to Manny with no return address. She frowned. Cops didn’t typically care for such packages and this was no exception. The mail stamp read Asheville. Probably more advertising from somewhere like the Biltmore. She shrugged, heading back to the house, flipping through the mail.

  A low growl caused her stomach to leap and she spun toward Sampson. The big Lab stood stiff-legged, his apparent grin had disappeared and his lips were drawn, showing his teeth. She’d never seen him like this. He didn’t seem to be angry. More like . . . scared.

  “What is it, Big Boy?”

  He moved toward her, slowly, then backed away, walking up to the stoop, his head down, still growling.

  “Well, that doesn’t make me feel so good,” she said under her breath.

  Promptly looking around, she bent for her backup weapon, scanning the street. She didn’t see anything, or anyone suspicious. In fact, there wasn’t anyone on either side of the road. Gavin had even sent the LPD cruiser that typically parked down the street back to the office.

  She wasn’t sure what had spooked Sampson. Then again, she hadn’t been around dogs all that much either. Maybe it was a skunk or some other critter.

  Walking back to the house, she let Sampson in. He went immediately to his spot by Manny’s chair, not taking his eyes from her.

  “Odd dog, ya are.”

  Chloe tossed the mail on the table and started for another cup of tea but the clank from the package forced her to stop. She picked up the envelope and felt a short cylinder-like object at the bottom and above it, what felt like another CD case.

  Her curiosity now fully aroused, she tore the red tab on the back of the package and dumped its contents on the table just as Haley Rose walked into the room.

  “Good mornin’ Mum—”

  That’s as far as she got. Haley Rose was pointing at the table, horror on her face.

  “What the hell is that?”

  Looking back at the table, Chloe felt her reality slip away then show up again. On top of the empty CD case that had dropped from the package rested a bloody human finger.

  CHAPTER-48

  “Why in hell would you think that?” asked Josh. “The hair was planted? Come on. Really? By who? Why?”

  Josh stood up, then realized he had no place to pace. He sat back down and leaned over the table, his eyes burning with an expression that said Sophie’s comment had caught him totally by surprise.

  Manny might have laughed in any other circumstance. His boss wasn’t happy, to be sure, but he saw something more, a ting of trepidation not common to Josh Corner. He knew the boss’s job situation was on his mind. Maybe that was it.

  “I’ll be waiting to hear those answers myself,” said Braxton, shifting his considerable weight.

  “It’s not that hard to go there. First, Sophie’s right. There’s no way they’d seen each other just before Garity was shot. We know that as fact. Secondly, the science doesn’t lie. The degradation of the hair in the shoe, accounting for any effect the chemicals from the sole might have had on Max’s hair, or Garity’s, were virtually identical. I’m not a forensics guy, but that forces me to make one conclusion; Max’s and Garity’s hair had to be in about the same state before Garity went for a swim.”

  “How are you accounting for both men’s hair being about the same decay rate when we did the test? Hair starts to age when it’s separated from the body. Granted, not quickly. But it does,” said Dean.

  “That’s true. Yet if the samples of hair were sealed in an evidence bag, or something similar, the sample wouldn’t age noticeably. Correct?”

  “In theory,” said Alex, rubbing his chin. “So you think it’s possible someone had samples of Max’s hair and, when the time was right, planted one on Garity. As damn far-fetched as that sounds, say you’re right, say that happened. Repeating what Josh said; who and why would someone do that? Maybe Janice Rhodes, your cyanide woman?”

  Manny shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about that. She was after me for something she thinks I did. She was focused on me for a completely different reason. I don’t think she was involved with this, at least not now.”

  The jet hit a small pocket of turbulence, shaking the plane and its inhabitants just enough to remind Manny that they were thirty-thousand feet over the earth, as did Sophie’s quick re-grasp of Dean’s hand. He was struck with how life’s layers were unavoidable. He feared that this conversation would complicate those layers for at least two of them.

  Letting out a breath, Manny searched the faces around the table. “Not counting Garity’s motivation for trying to take me out, which may include contact with Argyle, or not, we didn’t exactly get a chance to talk to him to see if he’d enlighten us. Anyway, according to the last update from the computer crime guys, they still don’t have a trail for his finances and just exactly where he might have been over the last two months. When we do track that down, it’ll help explain his actions, I hope. At any rate, I think you have to work backwards in this situation and think about who had access to Max and Garity, other than the obvious, which is someone on this plane or within the Bureau, including techs in the lab and even the doctors who do our annual physicals. All of us would have had access to Max’s hair, and more. Now you have to start eliminating the obvious. Max was killed two days ago; Garity, two weeks. I know where all of you were, with the exception of Braxton, when Garity was killed and Max was shot.”

  “Dat’s true,” said Braxton, his Island grin wry and wide. “Go on.”

  “It won’t take long to finish the background checks on the techs and the physicians that I asked Josh to start before we left for North Carolina and I’m betting we won’t find anything out of the ordinary regarding them.”

  “Why do you think that?” asked Sophie.

  “Two reasons, and you’ve got to hang with me here. If Garity had been part of the cult-like following Argyle was trying to build and the Good Doctor had remained true to his profile, then Garity was an exampl
e of Argyle trying to influence people close to me, like he did with Max. Trying to get someone involved that I’d have extremely limited contact with wasn’t going to work for him. The other side of this is that we’re giving Argyle far too much credit and there’s something else going on. That Garity was a part of another agenda.”

  “Is it possible that Garity just had a hard-on for you? You know, like maybe he had a thing for Chloe or some shit like that?” asked Sophie.

  “That’s way down on the totem pole of possibilities for me. Chloe can only remember seeing him once or twice and had never spoken to him. Garity’s action was extreme, even for a jilted lover, not to mention the attack on me was meant to be something bold and blatant. He wasn’t angry because he only stabbed me once. If it had been a secret lover situation, he’d have probably used a gun and I’m pretty sure, in that case, I wouldn’t be here talking with you all.”

  Watching Josh stand again, Manny felt his unease increase.

  “I know you’re in the business of exploring all possibilities and, like you said, eliminating situations that might not fit. But if you go down the road that this wasn’t orchestrated by Argyle, just what the hell are you saying? And don’t give me that ‘I’m not sure’ thing. You’ve already paved another path here,” said Josh.

  Turning toward Braxton, Manny smiled. “What am I saying, Big Man?”

  “Ha ha . . . you be a bright one for sure,” said Braxton. Then he shrugged his massive shoulders, shifted his weight to his right foot, and turned as serious as Manny had seen Braxton Smythe, US Marshal, become. Manny suspected there would be virtually no trace of the Caribbean dialect when he spoke. He was right.

  “First of all, let me say that I’m not involved in either the elimination of Garity or Tucker. Garity’s murder is the reason I was sent to the Carolinas. I stayed out of your way and went to work the way operatives like me do. We like invisible. My office has a few more tools to work that way. Even more than the Bureau because we don’t answer to anyone, period. We’re counted on to dive into everything and anything when we’re told to. We’re the CIA’s little brother, except we stay out of the espionage arena.”