by Debra Webb
If she failed, she would be eliminated. A loser.
In this house, losers ended up dead.
Chapter Fifteen
Mayor’s Office, 5:30 p.m.
Joseph Pratt had served in Birmingham politics for the last half of his prestigious career. A graduate of Birmingham’s prestigious Samford University, he came from old money, had made lots of new money in the business world and now he preferred power to more money. He was a good man, but one of his top priorities was public perception. Particularly the public’s perception of him.
“Dan, this is unacceptable.”
He clicked the remote, shutting off the flat panel screen on the credenza behind his desk. It seemed that every news organization in the country had just aired a clip of Jess, surrounded by Detectives Wells and Harper, along with two uniformed officers entering the BPD building. Jess had insisted she and the detectives had work to do. She had no interest in warming a chair in the mayor’s anteroom.
Innuendoes about her part in the failure to build a proper case against the notorious suspected serial killer, Eric Spears, had come off as less than flattering. The insinuation that her reckless behavior might somehow damage the investigation into the disappearance of five young Birmingham women had the mayor and anyone else who watched up in arms. Half a dozen staffers were fielding calls. Worse, the local Bureau office had given a statement to the press basically throwing Jess under the bus. Agent Harris was on administrative leave. Her affiliation with BPD was in no way connected to the FBI.
Bastards.
Mayor Pratt sat the remote on his desk, then braced his elbows on the arms of his leather chair. He steepled his fingers. “How do you plan to handle this?”
After twenty minutes of watching various clips and quiet but forceful rhetoric in regards to the media circus performing around the courthouse, this was the mayor’s bottom line. How would Dan make it go away?
“We have no control over what the media chooses to broadcast any more than we have over how the Bureau conducts its ongoing investigation into Spears and the Player case. That Jess is here brings that scrutiny to us. There’s no way around that.”
Pratt waited for more, the right answer to his question. Dan’s explanation of the reality of the situation clearly was not the answer he was looking for.
“Our focus will remain on the five missing young women,” Dan added as a reminder of his position and for the emotional impact. “Every hour they remain missing lessens the likelihood of finding a single one alive.”
“You still have no evidence that the disappearances are connected.”
Not a question. Dan refused to be intimidated by the man simply because he held the power to remove him from the office of police chief. This was not a theoretical situation. Not a textbook example for future training reference and definitely not a game of political achievement. This was life and death. And it was Dan’s fucking case.
“Not yet,” he admitted with absolutely no regret that he couldn’t set this man’s concerns for his reputation to rest. “We are following several leads, two of which are promising. The good news is,” he looked the mayor straight in the eyes, “we have no bodies either.”
“This Harris woman…” Pratt began, his hands now resting on the arms of his chair as he casually reclined. “Have her services risen to your inordinately high expectations?”
He had to throw that in, didn’t he? “She is the only reason we have any leads at all.”
Fury had a muscle flexing in his jaw. This meeting wasn’t about the case, not really. It was about whether or not they could dump Jess, thereby shifting the media’s scrutiny elsewhere.
Pratt leaned forward, picked up a handful of notes from his desk and shuffled through them. “Here’s what I’m dealing with, Dan. I have two complaints from the families of those missing girls.” He glanced over the notes. “And those are just the two that my assistant wasn’t able to handle without my intervention. Five complaints from families who have been questioned in connection with the disappearances, the most recent a Tim Porter.”
“Did Mr. Porter also tell you that he was having an affair with a coworker?” Dan tried to keep his temper from flaring but he failed.
“Does this affair have anything at all to do with the case?”
“That’s yet to be seen.” In all likelihood not, but there was no reason to speculate.
“I don’t have to remind you that with five lives at stake, we cannot be too careful with the conduction of this investigation. The eyes of the people are on our every move.”
Dan’s temper got the best of him. “If that’s a warning of some sort, you need to be a little more specific.”
“Our friends at the Bureau tell me that Harris is a bit of a maverick. She doesn’t conform well to the rules and her impulsive actions resulted in a heinous killer going free.”
“Spears was going to walk anyway. They had no evidence. Jess jumped the gun, that’s true, but the evidence she discovered was previously unknown to the investigation and impossible to connect to Spears anyway. Her actions did not damage the case they didn’t have.”
“As far as the media is concerned,” Pratt countered, “that’s irrelevant. It’s the perception of error that matters. Spears walked and an explanation is required.”
“A scapegoat is required,” Dan corrected. “And Jess is it.” Nearly two decades of dedication to the job and she took the fall. Respect and loyalty couldn’t compete with public perception.
“Another parent came to me personally with concerns about Harris.”
“Jess,” Dan challenged. “Her name is Jess.”
Pratt said nothing to Dan’s pointed amendment.
“Though Andrea isn’t my legal or biological daughter,” Dan argued in regards to the complaints Pratt listed. “I’m thankful for any help we can get in finding her. What kind of parent would question the tactics of one of the best profilers the Bureau has had the opportunity of employing?”
“It was Annette, Dan. She is immensely concerned that your prior relationship with Agent Harris prevents you from being completely objective in the matter.”
The outrage he’d been holding back ignited, whooshing through his veins. “Annette came to you and said this.” Dan didn’t believe it.
“She and her husband, yes.”
“Did she make that claim or did he?” Dan gripped the arms of his chair in an attempt to ground himself. He wasn’t surprised at Denton’s audacity. He would go to any lengths to make Dan look bad, even if his own daughter proved to be the price. But Annette? Why would she do something so thoughtless and utterly reckless where her daughter’s life was concerned?
“They were both here,” Pratt argued, “sitting right where you are. Who said what is irrelevant. The consensus is that Jess Harris is an element this case does not need.” Before Dan could argue that point, Pratt added, “This is the highest profile case your department has faced since you accepted the position of chief. What do I have to say to make you understand the ramifications we’re both facing? The citizens of Birmingham are watching you. You cannot make a mistake, Dan. That your former stepdaughter is one of the missing is dicey business as it is. Dragging a former lover whose professional reputation is questionable at this time is simply bad judgment.”
Dan wasn’t sure he’d absorbed all that Pratt said after former lover. He was very close to walking out. After telling the mayor where he could shove his consensus. But Andrea was counting on him. They were all counting on him. Including Jess.
“Andrea,” Dan reminded the mayor, “that’s my former stepdaughter’s name. Macy, Callie, Reanne and Dana are the names of the other girls missing. They need all the help we can summon on this case. I don’t care about public perception. I care about finding those girls. I care about doing my job to the best of my ability, not the public opinion.”
“Unfortunately, public opinion determines whether or not you are rising to the occasion.” He studied Dan for a moment. “Can you, wi
thout reservation, say that you’re performing at the peak of your ability?” Pratt asked. “That you’re making decisions without bias?”
“If you feel I’m failing in either area—if any of my deputy chiefs or captains or detectives feel I am failing in any way—I suggest you take the appropriate steps.” Dan stood. “Meanwhile, I have a job to do.”
Before Dan reached the door, Pratt asked one last question. “What about Agent Harris?”
Dan turned back to ensure there was no misunderstanding. “If she goes, I go.”
“And if the attention the media deluges on her puts her in danger, now that Spears is free, is of no consequence to you?”
Fear trickled past the anger. Dan refused to validate that ridiculous question with a response. He would protect Jess.
He walked out the door.
The mayor could play his power games with someone else.
~*~
BPD Conference Room, 6:17 p.m.
“Tate Murray was killed in a car crash three years ago this past May,” Wells read from the notes she had collected. “He was on his way to school for a seniors’ meeting the day before graduation.”
Jess studied the notes and photos posted along the timeline on the case board. “Was a cause listed for the accident?”
She couldn’t get the connection between him and the latest disappearance out of her head. But the poor boy was dead. His parents could be seeking some sort of belated revenge. But why now? And why these five girls? Then again, their only connection seemed to be to the latest victim. The boy’s name was Tate, not Tim, which would seem to eliminate any link to the texts Reanne had received.
Neither Amy Porter nor Dana’s parents believed for one second that Dana was or ever had been suicidal. A text from Jess as she and Burnett had left Warrior, had gotten Griggs in touch with both parties. Though Jess would have preferred to do the follow-up interview herself, Burnett’s command performance at the mayor’s office had precluded the possibility.
Since her arrival back here, Detectives Wells and Harper had been bringing her up to speed on the leads she had asked them to follow up on. Now, with Harper settled at the conference table finalizing calls, Wells hovered at the case board with Jess. She felt confident she looked as tired as the two of them. No one was getting any sleep to speak of. The faces of these girls haunted Jess’s dreams. That last text she’d gotten from Spears added another layer of apprehension. Not to mention the incident with Burnett and then Sullivan disappearing.
Jesus Christ, she needed a break.
“He was the passenger in a Honda Civic with a friend, fellow basketball teammate Josh Sever,” Wells recounted. “Sever attempted to pass a farm tractor and hit an SUV head on. Sever survived for a few hours, but he died as well.”
Jess elbowed aside all the other troubling thoughts and focused on this longshot of a lead. “Did the Murrays sue?”
“There’s no record of a lawsuit. Sever’s insurance company may have paid the family a settlement to preclude that kind of action.”
Jess tapped her pencil against her chin. If the parents had held a grudge about their son’s death, it would surely have been against the driver of the car. And the driver was dead. There was just no logical reason to add the Murrays into the scattered pieces of this puzzle that refused to click together. Except for the therapist and Dana.
And the idea that there was nothing logical about any of the disappearances.
“Still no word from Sullivan’s attorney? No sign of her or the white Taurus?”
“Nothing on Sullivan. Williams’s secretary insists he’s out of the office and unreachable.”
“I don’t know why I’m surprised.” Jess turned away from the frustrating board. “He’s probably out looking for her.” Hoping that whatever happens doesn’t come back to bite his reputation in the ass.
That Sullivan was still unaccounted for was not a good sign. Damn it. What had the woman been thinking? Where the hell was she?
“Ma’am,” Sergeant Harper placed his cell phone on the table, “that was the last name on the list of blue Ford trucks, 1969 to 1974.”
“All one hundred three?” She was impressed. Harper had set out to contact every owner to determine the driver of the vehicle as well as its whereabouts.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She winced, tried to cover it with a smile. “Let me guess, not a single one ties to any of our missing girls or their families, friends, or whatever.”
“That would be an affirmative.”
Damn it! Was one little break too much to ask for?
“Jess.”
She turned to Wells. Finally, the younger woman had broken through the formality barrier. Now if Jess could just convince Harper to stop calling her ma’am.
“You have something else?” They’d gone over new input from family and friends—which was nothing. They’d reviewed call logs from all relevant phones, cell and landlines, yet again. No usable evidence had been found in the Parsons’ home, on the note to Reanne her friend had kept or in Dana’s car. They had nothing.
“Here’s the information on that other phone contact.”
Wells was referring to the text messages Jess had received. The air stalled in her lungs. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and stepped closer. “Let’s see what you have.”
Wells opened a manila file folder that was empty. Jess smiled. She was learning fast. “What does that mean?” Jess pointed to a nonexistent note.
“It’s a prepaid phone,” Wells said “It was registered under a stolen ID.” She covertly pointed to Jess.
The bastard got a prepaid phone in her name!
“No harm done,” Wells hastened to assure her. “Just the made up name and a nonexistent address.”
“Thank you, detective.” Jess added the number to her contact list and labeled it Tormenter. There were numerous other labels she could use, scumbag, snake, bastard, et cetera…but there really was no one moniker that defined the kind of evil Spears represented.
“Lori.”
Jess snapped back to attention. “I’m sorry…what?” She shook off the fog to of distraction. “Of course, Lori.”
“Chet,” Harper piped up from his seat at the conference table.
Jess nodded. “Chet, why don’t you call me Jess?” Every time he called her ma’am she felt twenty years older.
Harper shook his head. “I can’t do that, ma’am, my grandmother would roll over in her grave.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Jess’s mouth. “We can’t have that.”
“Wells.”
Jess glanced at Lori who stepped to the far side of the room to take a call. While they were on the whole let’s-get-personal kick, why not go all the way? She strolled over to the conference table.
“Chet, are you married? Children?” There hadn’t been an opportunity to get to know each other beyond name and rank. Besides, she was curious after the interaction she’d seen between these two at the prayer service.
The look he cut in Lori’s direction before he answered spoke volumes. “I’ve been divorced for two years and I have a three year old son.” A smile touched his lips. “His name is David Chester, after both me and my father.”
Chet was short for Chester. “Marriage seems to be a casualty of this profession.” She could vouch for that. As could Burnett.
“Yes, ma’am.” Another of those covert glances at Lori.
This time, Jess openly followed his gaze. “Lori has never been married, has she?”
“No, ma’am. She says her career is her top priority right now.”
Do tell. “Speaking from the voice of experience,” Jess said, “time has a way of slipping through your fingers.” She leaned down and said for his ears only, “Don’t give up. She won’t hold out much longer.”
Jess had noticed how Lori looked at him. These two were in deeper than one or both comprehended.
Chet adopted a confused expression.
Jess lifted a skeptical
eyebrow.
He cleared this throat, admitting defeat. “Yes, ma’am.”
The door opened and Burnett walked in. He looked no worse for the wear after his meeting with the mayor. Maybe it went more smoothly than he’d anticipated. Either way, wasting time in the waiting room had been out of the question. She and the detectives had accomplished a lot in the last hour or so.
Since he stood there not giving her jack, she demanded, “Well?”
He slid his hands into his trouser pockets and shrugged. “I still have a job. And we still have our task force.”
Which meant the mayor hadn’t mandated that he send Jess packing. Not that she had been all that worried. It was a free country. He couldn’t make her leave town. She felt confident that Harper and Wells—Chet and Lori—would have continued to work with her either way.
“Great.” Jess gathered her notes and stuffed them into her bag. “I guess that’s all we can get done today.”
“Would you like me to continue attempting to get in touch with Williams?” Lori asked.
Jess thought about that a moment. “If Chet,” she turned to him, “wouldn’t mind following up on Williams, I have another task for you, Lori.”
“Works for me,” Chet confirmed.
“Great. Lori, I’d really like you to see what else you can dig up on the Murray family. Particularly the son. Did he have any friends other than Sever who might have decided to avenge his death at this late date?”
The idea didn’t even fit into the category of longshot, but the Murray scenario just wouldn’t stay out of Jess’s head. “I just want to be sure we aren’t missing anything on these folks.” Good God. She’d given up completely on slowing her digression into her old speech patterns.
“Patterson called me on the way over here,” Burnett said. “One of Reanne’s coworkers remembers seeing a blue truck, older looking, driving past the sandwich shop several times during those last few days before Reanne went missing.” He checked his cell. “The guy’s name is Jarod Rimes. He takes his smoke breaks in the parking lot.”
“I’ll cover that one,” Chet offered.
