Finn fussed around, but he finally gathered the team and left. Val stayed behind to get organized. She needed a moment before she dropped in on Detective Calloway.
“Someone is helping this guy,” she muttered.
“You knew that already.” Mills gave a snort. “Come on, you sent word. We had him on tape at South Station. Think Finn will post a BOLO now?” she asked. “What do you think was in that locker at the depot?”
“Money, drugs, ID.” Val shrugged. “Could be anything. My question is, who left it? I’ve gone over Beaumont’s pals from the pen. Like most of his kind, he was in segregation. Didn’t really make any friends. None that could help him. He doesn’t have any family, just the ex-wife and the daughter. There was something a buddy of mine came across. Something about his mother being in a nursing home back in Ohio. The unit there is checking into it. They can’t find the old lady anywhere, so far. All he has here is the kid and the ex. I doubt either of them would want to see him again much less help him run.”
“Doesn’t fit.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Val gathered up her gear. “Guys like this run. If they don’t have any allies to turn to, they just run, far and fast. I find it hard to believe that this jackass ran to a city where he doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of walking away alive.”
“I’ve heard that you and Calloway are a lot alike,” Mills said. “Both of you fly on your instincts. What does that infamous gut of yours tell you?”
“We’re being played.”
Chapter 21
Jamie was out in the yard, enjoying the feel of the cool autumn air. She checked her watch. She wanted to get the yard at least partially raked before she had to get ready for her shift. She smiled when she realized she had a little more time to enjoy the outdoors. A nondescript Buick pulled up to the curb.
“Now, that’s a cop car,” she said to herself.
A slender woman wearing simple black pants, white cotton blouse, and a black blazer stepped out of the car. “And that would be a cop. Honey, it’s for you!” she shouted, loud enough for her wife to hear through the open screen door.
“Dr. Jameson.” Sunglasses hid the woman’s eyes.
Stevie rounded the corner, and Jamie didn’t miss the quick look of appreciation she gave the woman.
“Ah, Deputy Val. Back again?” Stevie said with a slight sneer.
“Good news this time?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Deputy Dumb Ass.” CC’s greeting was curt as she emerged from the house.
“Nice,” Val shot back. “Any particular reason you’re this snarky? Or is that part of your charm, Detective? Oh and thanks for almost getting me killed. Why’d you text your uncle and have him out me at a cop bar?”
“You don’t seem any worse for wear. Serves you right. You knew Beaumont was here,” CC growled. Jamie could see she was fighting to keep her anger in check. “It wasn’t a gut feeling. You had him on tape at South Station.”
“It was still a maybe.”
“Even so, my sister and I should have been told sooner.”
“How did you?”
“How did you think I knew?” She cut her off. “I don’t know how tight you Feds are, but here we look after each other.”
“You know what? You’re right,” Val said. “I sent out the warning and trusted it would be enough. It wasn’t. I screwed up.”
“When?” Stevie asked, surprising everyone. “When did you alert the police that he might be in area?”
“The day we got word that he had bolted and was on his way here.” Val seemed to be thrown off kilter. Jamie suspected that she hadn’t expected Stevie to be the one to push her against the wall.
“Hold on.” CC cut in. “You sent out a BOLO on the first day? And just now, things are happening?”
“I met with some resistance,” Val said. “But that’s in the past. Things are in motion. I understand you’re upset. Trust me, I want to find this guy.”
“Then do it.”
“Deputy,” Jamie hesitantly began to say, “you must know how trying this is on my family. Just what is it your people are doing?”
“Everything possible, Dr. Jameson.”
“Which is?” Jamie pressed not feeling encouraged by the stress clearly evident in the Deputy’s voice.
“Why don’t we step inside?” Deputy Brown suggested with a careful glance over her shoulder.
Jamie felt uneasy when the woman hesitated before answering. She agreed with the suggestion and guided her wife and sister-in- law into their home.
“We’ve had a sighting in the city,” Val said.
“Where?” CC asked.
“Copley Marriott. He checked out right before we got the tip.”
“Beg pardon? That doesn’t make any sense.” CC sputtered.
“I know. We get most of these bozos because they think they can hide in a big city. As you know, Detective, that just leaves a paper trail. No one ever told them it’s easier to hide in the middle of nowhere. Thing is, Beaumont isn’t leaving a paper trail. One of the hinky things about this case is everything we got is because of anonymous tips. Something isn’t right. Did he have any friends from when he lived around here?”
“My father never brought anyone over,” Stevie said. “It was weird really. Then again, turns out he was weird.”
“Bert didn’t have any pals that I knew of,” CC added. “Not like my father, who always had friends over to watch a game or barbeque. You know, guy things. Considering the past Bert was hiding, it makes sense now. Him hanging out at Copley Place doesn’t. It’s not like he’s up to doing a little shopping at Neiman Marcus. Are you telling me Bert developed a sense of style while he was in prison?”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
Jamie didn’t miss the dejected look on the marshal’s face as she made a hasty exit. The way the three of them silently stood there was making Jamie nervous.
“Who gets to tell Emma that there’s a chance she can’t go trick-or-treating?” she asked when it appeared the standoff wasn’t going to end.
* * *
While the Calloway clan was trying to decide the best way to inform young Emma her annual romp around the neighborhood dressed like whatever wonderful costume her father designed was out of the question, Bitsy Marsden was on the other side of the country preparing to go for a run.
She made it around the first lap, without breaking a sweat. As ran, she pondered why there was an issue with her she behavior? All she did was ask Mrs. Fisher if she was planning on selling her house. Bitsy thought she should get some compensation for having to live next door to the Fishers. She had tried to warn everyone that Simon was a major malfunction. She still shivered every time she thought about finding Bongo her dog dead after she turned Simon down for a date.
She knew all along it was him. Years later, when he was sent off to the booby hatch, she wasn’t shocked. Why would Mrs. Fisher want to stick around? The only thing Bitsy did was politely mention the fact. With the real estate market being sluggish, she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to make a bid on the Fisher property.
The bright spot for Bitsy that afternoon was an almost empty track. She was nearly alone, free to become lost in her thoughts. The only distraction was one other runner who possessed a poor sense of fashion. Bitsy found his all-black-vinyl running suit distasteful. “Very nineteen ninety.” The stranger kept getting closer and closer.
Bitsy tried to maintain her pace, then she tried to outrun the stranger, who seemed to be gaining on her. With a large, empty track, they should have been able to give one another a wide berth. The dark, hooded figure closed in, challenging her. She was determined to win. She always won. Her lungs seized, and her body betrayed her. She conceded and moved to the right to allow the other runner to pass. She squeaked with surprise when she was pushed off the track. Fully prepared to spew a litany of curses at the other person’s rude behavior, she choked on the words. Frantically, she felt her throat whi
le trying to maintain her footing.
She was shocked to feel a warm stickiness greet her fingers. The reality of what had happened didn’t fully hit her until she was lying on the ground gasping her last breath.
An hour later, the men’s track coach found the half-naked woman lying in the brush beside the track with her throat slashed. Bitsy’s senseless death sent a shockwave throughout the community. Outrage turned to relief when two young men were arrested in East Los Angeles when they tried to use Bitsy’s credit card. The police failed to listen to the young men’s frantic claim that they had found the credit card lying on the street.
* * *
The following evening, Professor Archibald Harden moved around the humble home the university had provided.
He was happy as he settled into his favorite chair by the fire. In his hands he held a very fine single malt scotch and one of his favorite books. At times he regretted trading Wisconsin for Texas. He had no choice. He couldn’t stay in Austin after that nasty incident. Some young people could never be enlightened.
He shook away the unpleasant memory of the unhinged student who, after receiving a mediocre grade, tried to set fire to his office. He resolved to enjoy this perfect evening.
As he read, he felt slightly wearier than usual. He blamed the scotch; still he read on until he could no longer focus. Feeling light- headed and slightly confused, he closed his book. He hadn’t thought he drank that much.
He fell back into his armchair and decided to give himself a moment before he attempted to navigate the staircase. Instead, he drifted off, dying peacefully in his sleep.
Harden’s body was discovered after he failed to arrive for his morning tutorial.
The police who entered the professor’s home were shocked to find him sitting in his chair, wearing no pants, his face painted with lipstick, blue eye shadow, and mascara. Most disturbing was the sight of his penis nestled in his right hand. Despite efforts by the police, word of his unusual demise spread throughout the small town. No one was eager to give his eulogy.
Chapter 22
Jamie was filled with apprehension when she arrived at the hospital. She needed to clear her head and focus on her job and not the strange events that seemed to be lurking around every corner.
She did have one detail to deal with. Deputy Brown had given her a copy of Bert’s mug shot. Jamie swung by the security office. She smiled when Terrell greeted her. The kindly older man had been instrumental many years ago in helping catch Simon Fisher. Jamie never forgot it. Neither did the hospital, promoting him from parking lot attendant to higher up in security. The hospital overhauled the entire security system after everything that happened.
“Dr. Jameson,” he said brightly.
“Terrell.” She fought to keep her tone light. “How’s your family?”
“Good and yours? How is that adorable niece of yours?”
“Growing like a weed. Maybe we should stop feeding her.” The smile she was sporting vanished when she remembered that this wasn’t a social call. “I have some business.” She cringed slightly when she handed him the mug shot. “My wife’s stepfather—”
“Let me handle things.” He took the picture. “No need to explain. You just focus on making folks better.”
“He’s an escaped fugitive. A sex offender.” She handed him Deputy Brown’s business card. “I doubt he’ll show up here, but if he does, call this woman. Please, if you see him, don’t let him near any children.” Jamie flinched when she saw Terrell shiver. “Sorry.”
“No need.” He patted her hand. “You just do your job and we’ll do ours. I promise.”
* * *
Jamie felt better after talking with Terrell. There was something reassuring about the man. Now she had to talk to Jack. It was bad enough that Jack was more than a little distracted with his marital problems and budget cuts looming over the emergency room.
“Hey, Jack,” she said meekly when she stepped into his office.
“This can’t be good if you’re acting all shy.” He shrewdly noted.
“It’s probably nothing to worry about.”
“Crap, what’s wrong.”
“As I said, probably nothing to worry about.” She winced when his expression turned grim.
“Last time you said there was probably nothing to worry about, the nurses voted to strike.”
She handed him a picture of Bert. “This is Albert ‘Bert’ Beaumont. There’s a BOLO, a be-on-the-look-out, issued for him. He’s a child molester who escaped from a halfway house in Connecticut. He might be in the area. I’ve already alerted security.”
“My God, Jamie, you scared me,” he said, relief showing on his face. “I thought you were going to quit or something. I’ll alert the nurses. Wait. Why are you handing this out? Shouldn’t the police be involved?”
“They are. So are the Feds. The thing is, he’s CC’s stepfather.” She explained feeling sick.
“Oh.”
Jamie didn’t understand why, but for some reason she felt shame. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She never even met the man. Still, admitting that you’re related to someone like that made her feel like she needed a shower.
“I doubt he knows about me or where I work. We just want to be extra careful.”
“Understood.”
Jamie snapped into her business mode. “Okay, that’s over with, so stop staring and let’s get some paperwork done.”
“What, no coffee?”
“You sound like my wife.”
“And you sound like mine.”
“How’s that going?”
“Like you said, we have work to do.” His reply was so quiet Jamie almost missed it. “Go get us some coffee.”
“You’re such a bully.”
* * *
After Jamie finished up with Jack, she ducked into the break room and answered a call from her sister, Meegan.
“Love the new phone,” Stella said when she entered the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Apparently, my parents’ squirrel problem is getting worse,” Jamie said and snickered. “My sister’s worried because our parents decided that the best way to deal with it is to let Dad shoot them. Meegan went over, and there was Dad trolling the backyard with a shotgun.”
“Not very humane.”
“Not just that. Our parents’ eyesight is waning. We’re a little concerned about them playing with guns. I don’t like guns to begin with, and the thought of Dad, with his cataracts, running around with a loaded shotgun, is unsettling. My poor stepmother. I wonder if she knew what she was getting into when she married him.”
“You have guns,” Stella said. “I mean I assume that you do.”
“Two and they travel with CC. When she’s home, they’re locked up. She’s always been very careful because of Emma. What’s on the board today?”
“More folks afraid they have H1N1, an extreme case of flatulence, a broken leg, and Mrs. Bowers is back.”
“Let’s do the standard on the flu folks, and since I noticed that Tierney was late again, she can have the patient with gas.” Jamie smirked. “Tell me our patient is an elderly obese man.”
“Just so happens he is.”
Jamie laughed. “Now maybe she’ll show up on time. I like the kid, but she’s not going to make it if she doesn’t pull her head out of the clouds.”
“The clouds? With that one, I’m willing to bet her head is firmly planted deep inside her lower anatomy.” Stella scoffed.
* * *
Val’s head was throbbing. A migraine was brewing. She wasn’t certain who was to blame. It could be Albert Beaumont for being smarter than she had assumed. It could be the Calloway sisters
for being a general pain in her ass. Then there was Finn who was a bastard who seemed to enjoy adding to her stress. He stood there looking at her as if she could magically pull Beaumont out of her butt.
“Go over it again.” She demanded the time of playing nice had long since passed. While he glared at her, She sile
ntly vowed from this moment on it was time to kick ass. “Your team tracked him to the Marriott. He wasn’t just hanging around. He had been staying there under the name Gilbert Osborne.”
“We’ve been over this.” He snarled.
“Let’s do it again,” Val said. “The room was booked and paid for with a prepaid Visa that has since been deactivated?”
“Yes.” He grunted.
“CSU found a trashed cell phone which turned out to be a burner. Prepaid and bought in San Diego at the same Seven Eleven the prepaid credit card was purchased. Both were cash purchases, and any film we might have gotten has long since been dubbed over.”
“CSU is trying to get the phone working, and they are using Cellebrite to access the call and texts history,” Mills said.
Val should have been pleased that work was being done. That everything was in the works. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being used as a pawn in some sick game. If that was true, then any of her peers could be in on the game.
“Stop me when I get something wrong. Beaumont checked out and disappeared to parts unknown. We have no idea where this perv is hiding out or why he’s here. Is that about it?”
“Yes, the subway is right there.” Finn laid a map of the subway system out in front of Brown. “Copley station is on the Green Line. From there you can go to North Station and pick up a commuter rail to the burbs like Framingham or Lowell. He could also hop on the Down-Easter and head up to Maine. Or he could have transferred to the Red Line, back to South Station. From there he could pick up Amtrak, heading anywhere in the country, or walk over to the Peter Pan bus terminal, again headed to anywhere in the country.”
“How do you people navigate this?” All of the different routes, each color coded, boggled her mind. During her stint in the military, she had managed to navigate her way around jungles with nothing but verbal instructions and a knife. Finding her way around the city of Boston was a nightmare in comparison.
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