by Mark Young
Another name immediately caught his attention. Kent McPeters. The man’s transactions through the casino seemed staggering. Some days, McPeters dropped thousands of dollars at a time, his losses far outweighing his earnings. Professor McPeters appeared to have a gambling problem. He closed the professor’s file and moved on.
Some other names he recognized popped up on the monitor. Shane Foster, John Ares and Clay Lafata. All their files indicated normal, recreational-only gambling. Losses and winnings generally balanced out.
He was about to close out the last file in the data base. He flicked on the Windows Explorer function and typed in Three Rivers Development. A moment later he was directed to a sub file listed as ‘Diversion.’ Under this file, he found a listing for Three Rivers Development. Clicking on this, he found himself staring at a list of names listed as shareholders in the development. As he scanned the names he felt his pulse quicken.
Listed as major shareholders along with Wyatt — Steve Robinette and Shane Foster.
His eye ran to the far right of the ledger. Each man had contributed $400,000. Brian Wyatt’s contribution listed as land and property rights for the development. Travis recalled Tommy White Eagle’s legal filing against the development. If the suit had successfully halted the development, all investments might have been lost. Worthless. The projected earnings were in the millions of dollars.
This was a motive for murder.
On a hunch, he searched for one other name. John Ares. A few seconds later, a file popped up on the screen. Travis leaned forward to read the file. What he saw made him smile.
He dialed Beck Malloy. Time to get the feds involved.
Chapter 50
Clearwater River, Idaho
Beck Malloy dispatched an agent out of the Lewiston office to hook up with Travis. Between the agent, Frank, Travis and an assistant U.S. attorney, they drafted an affidavit and search warrant which a federal judge signed off with hardly a comment.
Court order in hand, they descended on the Whitewater Casino. The search warrant covered just about any transaction they might want to take a look at. The FBI provided a computer forensic team to help retrieve and store whatever they seized pursuant to the search warrant.
The FBI — along with Travis, Frank, and Steele — found the casino manager sitting in his office. The security monitors had been switched off by the time they walked into Robinette’s office. Travis glanced up and saw the darkened screens. He knew Steve Robinette must have been watching them approach.
Good. Make the man sweat.
Two agents stood guard over Robinette in the hallway, while Travis and the others fanned out to begin their search. Casino operations came to standstill as all financial functions became frozen. Agents seized, marked and stored for removal all hard copy files of any transactions for Three River Development, and any of the principal shareholders. Every financial record — wire transfers, credit cards action, checks and bank accounts — surfacing from these entities was seized, identified, and tagged.
Agents from the National Indian Gaming Commission joined the small army of searchers. Travis watched as they spread throughout the casino, focusing primarily in the finance department and the administrative wing. A team of agents began sorting through all of Robinette’s office files, searching his computer, and making his day worse by the minute.
Robinette stood outside, fuming. He saw Frank and Travis standing at the end of the hall. He pushed toward them, his two guards tagging along. “Frank, you know how important this casino is to our people. How could you let something like this happen?”
“Talk to the Feds, Steve. This is their case.”
Robinette eyed the search team in his office. He turned to face Travis. “I heard you think I’m somehow mixed up in whatever you’re investigating.”
“Who did you hear that from?”
Robinette smirked. “People talk.”
“We’re investigating several murders. Beyond that, I won’t comment.”
“What does murder have to do with the casino?”
“Money’s a pretty big reason to kill. And there seems to be a lot of that around here.”
“This is ridiculous We run a clean operation. Just ask anybody.”
“The judge who read and authorized the warrant thought otherwise. Maybe he was just one of your sore losers.” Travis smiled as Robinette’s face darkened. The casino manager marched away.
Frank leaned over. “You enjoy yanking his chain?”
Travis nodded. “I hate men who slap women around.”
“As a father, I’m glad to hear that.”
Travis wondered what Frank thought about the relationship between Jessie and him. When he called to tell Frank what he’d found in Axtell’s files, he sensed Frank was on edge. They’d gone out for a late breakfast while he worked in Frank’s office. When they returned, Travis saw Jessie seemed upset. Almost angry.
Frank’s face gave nothing away.
They’d left her at the police station while they searched the casino.
Steele poked his head out of one of the cubicles and gestured to Travis and Frank. After the warrant was signed, Travis passed several names to Steele just prior to them hitting the casino. He asked to be alerted if they found anything.
They found Steele seated at the computer once used by Pete Axtell. “Got a hit on one of the companies you asked me to keep an eye out for, Travis. Led me to a company identified as Puget Sound Executive Protection.”
“Isn’t that the company that the university hired?” Frank asked, peering down at the screen.
Travis nodded. “Yeah. The company owned by John Ares. I saw his name on the customer list Axtell had on the thumb drive.”
Steele pointed to the monitor. “This is not from a customer list, Travis. PSEP is listed in a vendor’s file. They’ve done some work for Whitewater.”
“Whose signature authorized hiring the company,” Travis asked.
“Our guy, Steve Robinette.”
“And what services did PSEP provide?”
“Threat assessment and executive protection,” Steele said. He squinted at the screen and let out a whistle. “They were paid $120,000 over the last eight months.”
Travis glanced around the office before speaking. “Frank, let’s get a warrant for Robinette’s personal finances. Checking, credit cards and other banking records. I’d like to compare those records to transactions through Ares’s company and the Three Rivers Development. Robinette came up with a chunk of change for Three Rivers investments. Maybe Ares helped him out. Maybe Robinette has other sources of income we don’t know about.”
He leaned over and tapped Frank on the shoulder. “Can I borrow your cell phone for a moment?”
Frank handed it over, still watching Steele work the computer.
Travis dialed Beck Malloy’s number again. The agent came on the line, and Travis walked away from Steele and Frank, looking for a quiet place to talk. He told the agent about Ares’s company and the amounts of money Whitewater Casino paid him through Robinette.
The agent sounded interested. “And you met this guy through the university?”
“Yeah. I’d like to know more about his background and who his business represents.”
Travis saw Robinette walking towards him. “And Beck, let’s keep this between us right now. You can reach me through Frank.” He disconnected the phone as Robinette neared. The man’s face was drawn tight, like hide stretched over a taut drum. His eyes, angry. Agents monitoring the casino manager’s actions stood nearby.
“I just found out you were up at my house talking to Jean. How dare you come into my house when I’m not there.”
“Not something we had to clear with you. We were invited.” Inwardly, he winced. “We didn’t give her much choice. She just wanted to help us find Tommy’s killer because the two of you were friends.”
“How can my wife help find Tommy’s killer?”
Frank saw them talking and walked over. “Everything
all right here?”
Travis pointed toward Robinette. “He just found out we went to his house to talk to Mrs. Robinette. I told him she didn’t have much choice. That we were investigating Tommy’s murder and maybe she could help us.” He met Frank’s eyes, hoping the man understood what he was trying to convey.
“And I’ll ask you again. How can my wife help you find Tommy’s killer?” Robinette appeared agitated.
Frank turned his attention to Robinette. “We knew that the two of you were friends with Tommy. That he’d been over to your house a few times. We thought maybe she could tell us a little about who Tommy was running with. People I might not have seen with him.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
Travis leaned toward the casino owner. “Because you lied to us about knowing Shane Foster. We thought you’d just feed us more lies.”
“I didn’t —”
“Don’t even try to tell us you don’t know him. You’re business partners in a development project even though his name popped up on a security alert through the casino.”
Robinette’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “I see where this is going. And after all I did for Tommy, you’re going to try and stick his murder on me. Unbelievable.”
Frank thrust a finger at the man’s chest. “What you gave to Tommy he paid back in spades. You know that, so don’t get all high and mighty on me, Steve.”
Robinette’s eyes seemed to harden. He started to say something, checked himself, and slowly walked away.
Chapter 51
Pullman, Washington
Travis squealed tires as he drove into a parking garage buried beneath WSU’s main library. He slammed the driver’s door shut and trudged toward his office. He wanted to come alone on this interview. Steele assigned a deputy to stay with Jessie while he and Frank followed up on the search warrants on the other end.
Travis felt he must return to the campus. Putting some distance between him and Jessie seemed the safest thing for her right now.
Whitewater files listed Ares and McPeters as regulars at the casino, while other files showed Ares’ company providing services for the gambling enterprise. He wanted to question both men about their involvement with the casino.
He’d hoped Beck Malloy would get back to him with information on Ares and the Puget Sound Executive Protection Company before he made contact with either man. But time was slipping away. He felt compelled to move forward as fast as possible, motivated by two haunting visions — Tommy’s lifeless body lying on his cabin floor and the threat to Jessie’s life.
Inside, he felt anger welling up spurred by feelings of inadequacy, his failure to protect.
In a dream last night, he watched horrified as Tommy’s image blurred. The image slowly cleared, and instead of Tommy’s body, two others lay on the wooden floor at his feet. Slowly, the first figure’s face emerged and he recognized Michelle Scarsbourgh staring at him with dead eyes. Then the second figure’s face came into focus— Jessie staring up at him, her eyes filled with fear.
He’d awakened from the nightmare, parched and wet with perspiration.
Once in his office, Travis dialed Ares’ cell phone and connected on the second ring. They agreed to meet in a temporary office in the Administrative Annex.
As Travis walked down the hall from his office, Kent McPeters emerged. “What are you doing back here?”
“This is where I work, McPeters.”
“Yeah, but you’re supposed to be working that case in Idaho —”
“— speaking of which, Kent. I need to talk to you about that.”
“About what?”
“We served search warrants for financial records of the Whitewater Casino. Your name popped up big time.”
“My name?” McPeters’ face turned ashen. “You checking on me?”
“You owe substantial gambling debts to the casino. I’m just wondering … how do you intend to pay them back?”
McPeters’ face flushed. “It’s none of your business what I do privately.”
“Actually — now that your name and gambling habits popped up in our investigation — it is my business. I won’t be asking the questions next time. It’ll be investigators from the Idaho County Sheriff’s Office and the feds.”
“I thought they’re investigating those murders? What does my gambling have to do with that?”
“Your name is linked to a couple other guys in our case. John Ares, for example.”
McPeters looked like he was going to be sick. “John Ares? Nah. What’s Ares got to do with this case?”
“Can’t answer that. But you’d better start working on your own story.”
He left the man sputtering in the hall.
Travis found the temporary office Ares used the last time they met. Empty. Not even dust on the desktop. He turned to leave when he saw Ares emerge from another room down the hall. Ares waved. “Sorry about that. Had to take care of some business.” He strode down the hallway. “We’ll be pulling out of here tomorrow.”
“Back to Seattle?”
“On to the next job. Wherever that is.” He pointed to a chair near another empty desk. “Take a load off. Looks like you’ve been losing sleep.”
Travis sat, stretching his legs out in front. “We’re busy.” He waited until Ares settled in. “I need to ask you a few questions, John. About the Whitewater Casino.”
“Yeah? Nice place. Been there once or twice for pleasure.”
“Pleasure?” Travis said. “The files we recovered show the casino paid your company $120,000 over the last eight months for threat assessments and executive security.”
Ares squinted. “Sounds about right. What’s your point?”
“That’s a lot of assessments and security for such a small enterprise.”
Wrinkles creased Ares’ face as he grimaced. “So we did business with Whitewater. I don’t see what that’s got to do with your investigation? We didn’t kill anyone. We protected them.”
“Ever heard of Three Rivers Development?”
Ares shook his head. “Doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“Two of the names in that development have been murdered. And they’re tied to Steve Robinette, the man who cut checks to your company for services rendered.”
“So?” He looked at Travis warily. “I don’t see the dots connected here, pal.” His voice sounded cool, rigid.
“What services, exactly, did you provide? If they hired you to keep Robinette’s friends alive and kicking, I’d say you failed miserably.”
Ares’ chair creaked as he slowly leaned forward. “Listen. You’d better not start throwing around false accusations.” The man jabbed a finger in Travis’ face. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold, and I won’t tolerate any false charges leveled at my company.”
“I’m not accusing anyone, Ares. Just trying to get to the bottom of this mess before anyone else winds up dead.”
“Watch your back, Travis. You make accusations like that and you never know what might happen.”
“Sounds like a threat, John.”
Ares leaned back and smiled. “Not a threat, Travis. Just a concern for your safety. Now, if you’re finished, I’ve got a lot of matters to close up before we pull the plug here. I trust you know the way out.”
Travis reached his office just as his desk phone rang. Frank was on the line with a message from Beck Malloy. “He wants you to call him like right now.”
Travis disconnected and called the FBI agent. Malloy answered. “Where are you?”
“In my office at the university.”
“You talked to Ares?”
“Just left his office. Why?”
Malloy breathed in deeply. “John Ares is not his real name.”
“Who is he?”
“I’m still checking. But up to five years ago, Ares never existed. His name, his social security number, his driver’s license, taken from a guy who’s been dead for thirty years. The guy used a forged birth certificate to set up this ident
ity.”
“You think he’s Phillip Scarsbourgh?”
“You are reading my mind, Travis. Can’t prove it yet. But I just e-mailed you a photo of Michelle’s brother from evidence seized at her house. You’ve seen Ares. Take a look at the photo and you tell me.”
Travis booted up his computer and waited until the system was up and running. He heard Malloy breathing heavy on the line. A moment later, he clicked on the icon to reach his messages. He saw one from Malloy.
He clicked on the message, hit the attachment and a photo slowly crystallized on his screen.
A match for John Ares taken many years earlier.
“John Ares is Phillip Scarsbourgh.”
He heard Malloy let loose with an expletive. “I’ll call the locals. They and the campus police can be at your office in a few minutes. Let them take this guy into custody, Travis. He’s dangerous.”
“I think I screwed up, Malloy. He and I exchanged words. He basically threatened me about making false accusations about his company.”
“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about him filing a lawsuit against you.” His voice lowered. “One more thing, Travis. When I pulled Scarsbourgh’s military records, I ran into a brick wall. No photos, no listing of assignments. Nothing.”
“What do you make of it?”
“I think he was picked up by another agency. It looks like there’s been an effort to erase his existence after the Marine Corps and make it look like he was still with them, or they were his last employer. I don’t have a good feeling about this guy. He might be a lot more dangerous than I thought. Be careful when you approach.”
“He may suspect we’re already onto him.”
“Just stay there until the cops get there.”
“You know we don’t have any criminal charges on him right now. Except maybe creating a false identity.”
Malloy grunted. “Don’t worry. I’ll roll that into some kind of federal offense if I have too. At least long enough for us to put a case against him. I think he’s good for killing Lafata.” He heard a click on the line, and Malloy asked him to hold. A few moments later, Travis heard another click and Malloy came back on the line.
