by Blake Pierce
Both women nodded as Chloe started for the door. When she opened it, she felt a brief spike of nervousness. She was about to interrogate perhaps the nastiest man she had ever met—certainly the nastiest she had ever interrogated. And knowing that her case was at the lower end of the man’s totem pole made her all the more aware that she might not be the right person for this interrogation.
But when she closed the door after Rhodes entered, the sound of the door closing calmed her. It also helped that the man sitting behind the small steel interrogation table looked perfectly normal. He was Hispanic, probably in his mid-thirties, and was dressed in a plain gray T-shirt and dark jeans. His hair was close-cropped and if he didn’t look so smug, he might have come off as handsome.
“Really?” Alejos said. “This is what I get? Two women? Damn, if this city isn’t trying to insert a woman into everything!” He chuckled at his own joke and shook his head.
“Do you have something against women?” Chloe asked.
“Not at all. I love women. Maybe too much. But if you’re here to try to make me speak, this is a job where you should never send a woman to do a man’s job.”
“Thanks for the consideration, but I think we’ll do fine,” Chloe said. “Besides…if I’m going to be honest with you, I should let you know something. It might surprise you, but I think we should start out with honesty. You okay with that?”
“You can be as honest as you want. I can promise no such thing.”
“Well, here goes: I don’t care why the FBI is currently on your ass. You’re not that big of a deal to me. They think you run some big drug cartel in New York. I don’t care. Doesn’t take much skill to sell drugs in NYC, does it?”
Alejos grinned at her. He rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. “If you’re trying this passive reverse psychology nonsense, it won’t work with me.”
“Oh, it’s not reverse psychology. Like I said…I’m all about honesty here. Agent Rhodes and I don’t give two shits about whatever you’re peddling up north. She and I were assigned to a case in Falls Church several days ago. A case where we got to meet a man named Mark Fairchild face to face. That name ring a bell for you?”
“Rings a big bell. That man is very stupid. He was promising at first but he got away from himself.”
“How do you mean?” Rhodes asked.
Alejos slowly sat up. Chloe saw the slightest sense of ease in his face. He was sliding into the exact frame of mind she wanted. He was relaxed, thinking this was another situation where he could throw someone else under the bus and be done with it.
“Let’s just say he has a problem with money,” Alejos said. “Let’s say he crossed some of the wrong people.”
“Were you one of those people?” Rhodes asked.
“Maybe.”
“How about Mitchell Beck? Was he one of them, too?”
“I don’t know anything about Beck. I don’t know why you assholes keep insisting he and I are in bed together.”
“But you know him?”
“Yes, I do. Unfortunately.”
“Does Mark Fairchild know him?”
“Yeah. Beck called me to ask about him.”
“What for?” Chloe asked.
“Wanted to know if knew who Fairchild was. If he’d ever worked with me before.”
“Mr. Alejos, do you know what happened to Mark Fairchild last Friday?”
“The agents that took me in in New York said someone killed his wife. Said they hadn’t found a killer yet.” He paused here and then gave them an exasperated look. “You think I did it or something? That’s ridiculous. I got at least fifty people that can prove I was in New York last Friday.”
“I’m sure you do,” Chloe said. “And I was suggesting no such thing. What I would like to know, though, is who you were calling in Falls Church on that very same Friday morning…a call that happened to be placed just before Mark Fairchild’s wife happened to be killed.”
The ease on his face evaporated and turned to anger. “You think you’re a clever bitch, huh?”
“At times.”
“Mr. Alejos, think about it,” Rhodes said. “The bureau seized your phone—a burner phone that, let’s face it, seems suspicious in the possession of a bigshot such as yourself. We got your phone records from that phone. We know all of the calls you made on it, so we know you made a call to Falls Church.”
“And you’ve also admitted to knowing Mark Fairchild, who lives in Falls Church. Do the math. It’s not looking good for you.”
“If you say so.”
Chloe smirked and nodded. “I don’t get it. You’ve already thrown so many people under the bus today. Seems you have no problem with that. So why not just one more? Tell me who you were calling.”
“Tell us,” Rhodes said. “Just a name. Like Agent Fine said…we don’t care anything about the drugs up in New York. We want to find the man that killed Jessie Fairchild.”
Alejos just shook his head. “I’m not saying anything else to you.”
“Seems unlike you from what I hear,” Chloe said. She leaned in close to the table and smirked again. “Guess that means I stumped you, huh?”
She could see Alejos fighting to bite back a remark. There was anger in his eyes unlike any she had ever seen before.
“You may as well tell us,” Chloe said. “Because of those phone records, you’re going to be charged with being an accessory at least. If you can offer up the killer, maybe we can get that negated.”
Alejos smiled politely at the agents and then showed him both of his middle fingers.
“Fine,” Chloe said, headed for the door. “We’re quite happy to take partial credit for being the ones that helped get you into prison.”
Before Chloe and Rhodes could make their exit, Alejos let out a little barking laugh. “It’s cute you think that way, little girl.”
“Why’s that?” Chloe hissed through her teeth without turning to face him.
“I’ll be out in no time. Probably by tomorrow morning. Mark my words on that.”
Somehow, Chloe let the words slide right off of her back as she stepped out the door. This time, when the door closed behind them, the sound irritated her and she could identify with Keller; while Alejos had really not been all that disrespectful or problematic, she had the sudden urge to put a bullet in the man’s skull.
She and Rhodes walked into the neighboring room, a small observation room where a flat-screen on the wall showed the inside of the interrogation room. Johnson, Garcia, Keller, and Labitski sat in folding chairs, looking at the screen.
“I see what you mean,” Chloe told Keller. “I’d really like to blow his brains out at this point.”
“Hey, that was pretty good,” Johnson said. “You backed him into a corner and he didn’t even realize it. He basically admitted that he did in fact place a call to Falls Church on the morning Jessie Fairchild was killed.”
“But without a name, we have nothing,” Chloe said.
“There are a lot of moving pieces,” Garcia said. “If we can get Mitchell Beck into a room and he knows that Julio Alejos is also in an interrogation room and that he’s already given four names to save his own ass…I think that’s our best bet.”
“Any movement on his arrest?” Chloe asked.
“There’s a quiet manhunt of sorts all over the state of New York,” Keller said.
“Fine…Rhodes…go home,” Johnson said. “Rest up and meet us back here in the morning.”
“Sir, it’s not even four o’ clock,” Chloe said.
“I know. But you two have been busting your ass. Take the afternoon and meet us back here tomorrow morning at eight. If any updates come in the meantime, you’ll be among the first to know.”
Chloe didn’t even see the point in arguing. Based on what she was being told, all she could do was sit and wait for Mitchell Beck to be arrested. And she had already been told that his arrest might not even happen because he seemed to slide out of the grip of the law on a fairly continuous basi
s.
“Come on,” Rhodes said, nudging her. “He’s right. The case is getting to you. It’s getting to me, too. Maybe you should get out of here before you do go back in there and do or say something you’ll regret.”
Chloe looked back up at the screen. The man sitting at that steel table was not Jessie Fairchild’s killer, but she would bet anything that he knew who was. She would go even further and venture a bet that he had likely even assigned someone to commit the murder.
And he wouldn’t budge. He’d gotten so used to getting his way and keeping two steps ahead of the police and the FBI that he felt he could get away with it. Yes…maybe it was best that she went home.
Besides…she had her own issues to wrestle with at home. She needed to call Danielle, to make sure she was okay after the talk the other night. And to have her come clean the rest of the mess in her apartment.
But as she walked out of the viewing room with Rhodes at her side, she looked back at the screen on the wall once more. She knew it was unlikely, but she could have sworn the bastard was smiling at her.
Chloe clenched her jaw and looked away. She decided then and there that she’d do whatever she could to get Julio Alejos behind bars, even if she did have to push the boundaries of professionalism.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Chloe waited until she got home to call Danielle. During the drive, she allowed herself to calm down, to become less enraged by the absolute arrogance of Julio Alejos. It worked to some degree; when she arrived at her apartment, she no longer felt any homicidal urges toward the man. She put on a kettle for tea and made the call to Danielle.
The phone went directly to voicemail. Chloe rolled her eyes, assuming her sister had decided to take one of her random afternoon naps. She wondered if Danielle was even looking for a job anymore. She had some cash saved up from her last job, but she had not recovered from the trauma of how that job—and the relationship it had entailed—had ended.
She made a cup of tea and sat down with her laptop. She pulled up Google and ran a search for Mitchell Beck. There was plenty of information about him: he was a self-made millionaire who would likely be a billionaire if a few ventures hadn’t folded up on him five years ago. She only found a few articles that painted him as untrustworthy. He had been charged with conspiracy to bribe a state college in order to get his nephew into Harvard. He had also been caught with a prostitute on two occasions. But the one that seemed to line up with the case was the story that did its best to pin him to two different drug cartels—one in New York and one in Arizona. According to the article, he’d actually been charged for it at one point but the charges were dropped several days after he had been taken into custody. None of the articles she found detailing the events explained why he was let go.
After about half an hour of this, she shut the laptop down and started cleaning up the remaining mess from Danielle’s break-in. As she did, her mind kept turning to the darker years her sister had suffered through. Back in those days, from the age of fourteen to just a few years ago, something like breaking into her sister’s apartment might not have seemed like such a big deal to Danielle. But Chloe had seen real progress lately, especially after they had reunited to try to find the truth about their mother.
But something was clearly different now. While Danielle was indeed being the supportive sister Chloe had always wanted, she was definitely slipping back into her old ways. Chloe thought about what might have changed and then a possibility settled in over her mind. Actually, it was more than a possibility…it was almost a certainty. It made too much sense to simply ignore.
Has Danielle stopped taking her meds?
She recalled how Danielle was so annoyed that she had to take the medicine when the two of them had started reconciling. They’d always made her think something was wrong with her. Though, to be fair, there was: she’d been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder at the age of fifteen.
Suddenly very worried, Chloe tried calling Danielle again. For the second time, it went straight to voicemail. Her first instinct was to ride to Danielle’s apartment, but she knew that would be a mistake. Whenever Danielle did not want to be bothered, she really did not want to be bothered. When she went into introvert mode, it was intentional. Chloe supposed it made sense; she was probably embarrassed about breaking into Chloe’s apartment and was still processing all the emotion that came with it.
To occupy her mind, she kept cleaning the apartment. She was nearly done with it when the weight of worry became too much. She picked up her phone and simply stared at it for a moment. She called Danielle again but to the exact same results. She then found herself growing angry with Agent Moulton for not being available for her. She then considered Dr. Fischer but the idea of calling twice in consecutive days was just too sad. Grimacing, she scrolled to Rhodes’s number and pressed CALL.
The phone rang three times and then went to voicemail. She thought about leaving a message but decided against it. Rhodes was probably actually enjoying her afternoon off after the last few days they’d spent. Must be nice, Chloe thought.
For the next hour or so, she kept looking at her phone, thinking of trying Danielle again. But each time she thought about it, the urge to just go to her apartment grew stronger, so she eventually stopped.
When her phone rang at 6:05, she practically raced across the living room to grab it from its place on the kitchen counter. Her heart broke a bit when she did not see Danielle’s name on the display. It then surged with hope and excitement when she saw Johnson’s name.
“This is Agent Fine,” she answered.
“Fine, it’s Johnson. Look…I wish I had better news and I wish I wasn’t so pissed off to tell you what I’m about to tell you.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“We have to let Alejos go.”
“What?”
“There was some massive screw-up in New York. I’m still getting details as they come in but it looks like the evidence we thought we had against him is flimsy at best. It’s falling like a house of cards.”
“What about the phone records?” Chloe asked. “That should be enough to at least hold him for suspicion of murder.”
“You’re right. And right now, we’re trying to angle things in a way where that would be the primary charge. If we can hold him a bit longer under that premise, we’re hoping whatever was messed up in New York can be resolved. Keller and Labitski are working to that end right now.”
“So what do you need me to do?”
“Nothing. Just sit tight. I may have you and Rhodes go back to Falls Church to investigate if we can get an exact triangulation on where the incoming call was received from. I’ve got Moxley and a team working on that right now. Would you call Rhodes and fill her in?”
“Okay,” Chloe said and killed the call.
She looked around the apartment and let out a rather loud expletive. She tried Rhodes again and this time, her partner answered.
“You just can’t stand to eb apart from me, huh?” Rhodes said.
“Johnson just called. The charges against Alejos are falling apart.”
“What?”
She then recited everything Johnson had just told her, putting emphasis on the fact that he was still being held by a thread based on his possible involvement in the murder of Jessie Fairchild.
“Our system is fucked,” Rhodes said.
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Want to go grab a beer or ten?” Rhodes said.
“No. I’m just….”
“Chloe…I know there’s something else, too. Whatever that thing is that you wouldn’t go into detail about earlier. Level with me…are you okay?”
She hesitated before answering. She didn’t see the point in lying anymore. The more she lied to others, the easier it was for her to believe the lies. “I don’t know. I think I will be eventually. There’s just some family stuff going on right now…stuff that sort of got mirrored in this Fairchild case.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“I probably should, but I’m not ready just yet.”
There was a silence on the other end before Rhodes finally said, “Okay. Just…I know it might be weird, but I’m here if you ever want to vent about it.”
“I know. Thanks.”
They ended the call, leaving Chloe in a quiet apartment again. She thought of Danielle, holed up alone with her phone turned off. She thought of Julio Alejos, probably smirking at everyone who went into his interrogation room. And she thought of her father, watching him through his back kitchen window, living a life of normalcy.
Lastly, she brought the image of Jessica Fairchild to mind, her throat butchered by the ring, bruised by the fox sole.
She picked up the teacup she had been using earlier and looked at it thoughtfully. She then heaved it hard across the room, where it exploded against the wall. It wasn’t the most mature reaction but the sound of shattering was perhaps the most therapeutic thing for her in that moment.
She only allowed herself a few seconds of this feeling, though. She grabbed her broom and dustpan and instantly cleaned up the mess, realizing as she did that it seemed to be the perfect illustration for this stage of her life: always cleaning up a mess, always picking up the pieces.
***
No more than twenty minutes had passed after she had shattered the cup when someone knocked at her door. Her heart leaped, surging with certainty. The sister instinct within her knew that this was Danielle. Danielle had her phone off and had turned it on to see that her sister had called three times, clearly worried about her.
Chloe sprinted to the door and then calmed herself a bit before answering. She didn’t want Danielle seeing just how anxious she was, how worried she had been for the last few hours. She took a deep breath, collected herself, and opened the door.
Before she even had a chance to peer out into the hallway, the door came slamming back against her. Her left arm got caught between her body, crushing it against her. The action was so unexpected that Chloe wasn’t even able to comprehend what had happened until she fell to the floor on her back. Her mind raced to keep up and came to only the simplest of conclusions.
