Edge of Mercy (A Kate Reid Novel Book 11)

by Robin Mahle

  Bishop arrived at his apartment building and inserted the key in the main door. The lobby inside was only accessed by the residents through the use of a key. Any visitors had to be buzzed in. His shoes squeaked across the checkered lobby floor until he reached the stairs. One thing he’d already learned was that it was quicker to take the stairs. The elevator was unreliable.

  He jogged up the staircase to the second floor and quickstepped down the corridor. The narrow hall was lined with faded green doors on either side. The numbers on the doors were either hanging crooked or had fallen off altogether. His studio unit was at the end.

  Bishop cast a nervous glance, but no one was around. It was 8am and most people were probably already at work. Those around here who had jobs, anyway. The rest were probably still asleep.

  With the key in the lock, he used his shoulder to push open the door as it stuck to the frame and needed a lot of force. Inside, he secured the deadbolt and the chain. No one was after him that he knew about, but it felt as though they were.

  The remote to his television rested on the old oak coffee table. He picked it up and tuned in the news. “Come on. Give me something.” With his cell phone in hand, he scrolled through his news feed in search of his next location. Getting burned while he was still here wasn’t going to happen. Bishop had been careful for this long and this little hiccup wasn’t going to finish him off.

  “That’s what I’m talking about.” He nodded as he peered at his phone. “The Bahamas. Of course. They always get hit.” He read the story and hadn’t heard much about it on the news, then again, it hadn’t been that bad.

  Nassau took a hit, albeit, not a direct one from Hurricane Florence. Only a Cat 3, but enough to do some damage. Help had already begun to pour into the island to sift through their already derelict neighborhoods. The resorts, it seemed, sustained only minor damage. The people who lived there were the ones who appeared to suffer the worst of it.

  “This looks like the place.” Bishop needed to lay low for a while. It was unlikely he’d be given the time off of a job he’d started only the previous day. However, his time was up already. They’d find him soon enough. But if he left before anyone knew what he’d done, he might stand a chance.

  Walsh was the one who coordinated with the local authorities. His responsibilities included opening lines of communication, ensuring jurisdictional concerns were addressed and all the political maneuvering that no one else really enjoyed doing. But Walsh thrived on it. He had a great appreciation for the state and local cops, and they picked up on it, showing their own gratitude in return. When Fisher asked him to head over to Baltimore, he opted to leave first thing this morning. Best case, he could get there inside of 90 minutes, unless there was an accident.

  As luck would have it, the roads had been clear, and he arrived at the law offices of Hickman, Brown, and Meyers at 9am sharp.

  “Good morning.” Walsh retrieved his credentials. “I’m here to see Mr. Hickman regarding the wrongful death suit against EMS Baltimore. FBI Agent Levi Walsh.”

  “Of course, one moment, Agent Walsh.” The young woman picked up the phone and pressed a button on the console. “Mr. Hickman? I have FBI Agent Walsh here to see you.” She waited. “It’s about EMS Baltimore. Okay, thank you.” She returned the phone to its cradle. “He’s on his way. Feel free to take a seat.”

  “I’ve been on my backside for the last hour and a half. I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs for a minute,” he replied.

  “Be my guest.”

  Mr. Hickman, the senior partner in the law firm, approached with an outstretched hand. “Agent Walsh. I’m afraid I wasn’t made aware of your impending visit.”

  Walsh shook his hand. “That’s on me, sir. I left the office first thing this morning before you opened your doors.”

  “Okay, then. So, what can I do for you?” Hickman wore a navy blue 3-piece suit with a patterned red tie and looked every part the lawyer.

  “Do you mind if we have a sit-down in your office? I won’t take up but a few minutes of your time,” Walsh added.

  “Of course. Right this way.” Hickman looked at his receptionist. “Be sure to hold my calls, would you, Jennifer?”

  “Yes, sir.” She smiled at Walsh as he walked by.

  He smiled in return and felt a mild heat rise in his cheeks. He was much too old for that young woman who couldn’t have been over 25. But for a man in his early forties, it was flattering when a pretty woman smiled, even if it was her job. “I should apologize for the intrusion, Mr. Hickman.”

  Hickman walked into his office. “That’s entirely unnecessary, Agent Walsh. Anything I can do to help out you folks, I’m more than happy to do.” He motioned to a guest chair. “Please, have a seat and tell me what it is I can do for you today.”

  Walsh sat down. “I work in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico. Essentially, that means we offer assistance to other FBI offices who need help in areas where we specialize such as serial killings, among other violent-type crimes.”

  “Oh my. I see,” Hickman added.

  “We’ve been working on a situation with the Houston office and while working on that case, my colleague happened to notice a news story regarding a case your law firm is heading up.”

  “We have several cases going at any given time, Agent Walsh. Don’t suppose you can be a little more specific?”

  “We’re particularly interested in the civil suit against Baltimore EMS.”

  “The wrongful death claim,” Hickman added.

  “The very one. See, there’s a suspect out there who, well, I don’t want to get into too fine a detail, but suffice it to say, we’d like to know more about your case and your client.”

  “I’ll tell you everything I legally can, Agent Walsh.”

  Kate wrapped her knuckles on Duncan’s open office door. “Good morning.”

  Duncan peered up. “Hey. I haven’t seen you all morning. Did you just get in?”

  “No. I’ve been keeping my nose to the grindstone on this mercy killer.”

  “Is that what we’re calling it now?” Duncan asked.

  “That’s what I’m calling it.” Kate walked in and sat down. “I wanted to run something past you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I know you’ve had to make this whole Riverside immigration deal a priority, but I was hoping you might be able to jump in and help me out with something if you have the time,” Kate said.

  “I made my calls to the Riverside people and handed everything to Scarborough. It’ll be up to him to pull the right strings. So, I guess what I’m getting at is, yeah, I have some time. What are you thinking about?”

  “Levi will probably end up getting what we need, but in the event the case in Baltimore doesn’t jibe with ours, I think we should still move forward with other leads.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Never put all your eggs in one basket, right?” Duncan added.

  “Something like that.” Kate chuckled. “This will be time consuming, but what do you think about looking into previous disaster sites to determine if similar situations exist?”

  “You mean, check for other suspicious deaths?” Duncan clarified. “I thought Walsh had considered that angle already?”

  “With him getting pulled away, I don’t want it to slip through the cracks. I mean, look, there’s no way this guy is a beginner. I think he could have been at this game for a long time. And if that’s the case, there are bound to be similar deaths over the past few years and if there is, someone might remember the who, where and when.”

  “I agree. If it so happens that we find examples of such cases, and Walsh comes back with a name, we might be able to build one hell of a solid case against whoever this mercy killer is.”

  Fisher appeared in the doorway. “Good. You’re both here. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” He walked inside.

  “Not at all. Just spit-balling,” Duncan replied.

  “Then I’d like to run a name past you both. As d
iscussed, I’m working on filling Quinn’s position and someone just handed me a pretty strong candidate to consider.”

  “Anyone we know?” Kate asked.

  “Agent Mitch Palmero.” He sat down next to Kate.

  Duncan looked at him with a furrowed brow. “He wants to make a move?”

  “He was so impressed with Reid’s profile and picking up on that news story last night, he thought it would be an honor to work with her. And the rest of us, of course.”

  “That’s very flattering, but does he have the right kind of experience?” Kate asked. “Look, I’m not one to talk, I get that, but I don’t think he’s particularly known in the field of profiling. Is he?”

  “There’s a whole world outside of D.C., Reid. A lot of extremely talented agents who do exactly what you do in their field offices. They don’t get the opportunity to coordinate with other offices as we do, but from what I know about Palmero, he’s worked in Violent Crimes for more than six years. Before that, Kidnapping. He has a lot of wins under his belt.”

  “I wasn’t aware,” Kate said. “I guess it’s your call. You’re the boss. I’ll work with whoever you think is best for the position.”

  Duncan eyed her before returning her sights to Fisher. “I get that Reid came here under the assumption she would be an apprentice for Quinn. That’s been blown out of the water, but why do we need to fill the spot right now anyway?”

  Kate smiled and lowered her head as if embarrassed Duncan was singing her praises.

  “We’re a team here,” Fisher said. “And that team needs a strong profiler in the position. Don’t get me wrong, Reid, you are strong, there’s no doubt about that. But I’m not an expert and you need someone who is. Look, I’m just building a candidate list right now. Nothing is final, nothing’s been decided. I’m kicking ideas around and I wanted to get your thoughts.”

  “I like him,” Kate said. “I think he would fit in well and I certainly would have no problems working for him. But like I said, it’s your call, Boss.”

  Fisher pushed off the chair. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to the business of finding killers. Thanks for the input.”

  Duncan waited for him to be out of earshot when she turned back to Kate. “You’re okay with him finding a replacement for Quinn?”

  “How can I not be? One thing I’ll never say about Quinn was that he was bad at his job. Look, I am not qualified to do this on my own. Not yet anyway. Fisher has to do what he has to do.”

  10

  In the backroom of a laundromat, Theo Bishop sat on a stool with a white sheet hanging behind him and a camera on a tripod in front of him. His hair had been dyed to a light brown and was cut shorter. Stubble scattered across his face, though it had come in his natural shade of black. He needed a new look for his new passport.

  “Don’t smile.” The man behind the camera wore a dingy grey t-shirt beneath a black plaid button-down. He was a scrawny man whose apparent side-hustle was creating fake travel documents. “You’re done. I’ll be right back.”

  Bishop got to his feet and walked to the nearby desk where he waited for the man’s return. With an envelope stuffed with cash, he counted the amount due. His cash reserves were dwindling thanks, in part, to the move to Charlotte. It hadn’t seemed a great concern because he’d gotten a job quickly. However, the lawsuit changed his circumstances. Getting out of town had become his top priority.

  The man returned and tossed the newly minted fake US passport onto the desk. “Your name is Eli Parnell. You live in Lexington, Kentucky.”

  Bishop studied the document. “Looks good.”

  The man scoffed. “Yeah, I know. Five grand, like we talked about.”

  Bishop handed over the cash. “How do I know this will pass muster?”

  “Because I say so. Look, man, you came to me. I gotta assume you did your research. You’re not happy with the results, feel free to find someone who will do it for less. I guarantee you, you won’t.”

  “Fine.” Bishop tucked the passport into his coat pocket and headed to the door.

  “Have a safe trip,” the man said.

  Bishop pushed through the door of the laundromat and returned to his car. On the passenger seat was a large black duffle bag. He sat down on the driver’s seat and placed the passport in the side pocket of the bag. As he checked the time, his flight to Nassau was due to leave in less than five hours.

  Leaving town wasn’t in his initial plans, but he’d screwed up in Baltimore. Actually, he was pretty sure Pete must’ve alluded to a mishap with the old lady to her son. The reports had been meticulously written. Everything documented. T’s crossed and i’s dotted. There should have been no reason to consider the incident had been some sort of wrongdoing on Bishop’s part, but there it was. He knew it had to have been Pete. He saw the look when he told his partner the woman was dead. It was a look he’d seen before.

  He arrived at the Charlotte airport and left his car parked in the long-term lot. It would be weeks before anyone would realize it was his. What to do when that time came, however, was something Bishop hadn’t worked out just yet. Although, he needed to remember that his name was Eli Parnell. That was kind of a big one.

  The security line was longer than he had expected. Charlotte’s airport wasn’t a particularly large one but maybe it could be a good sign for him. TSA workers would want to keep the lines moving and might just be a little less careful in their screening. Bishop hoped that would be the case. If not, he might find himself spending the night in jail and who knew what after that. “This better be good,” he whispered to himself.

  The man who crafted the false passport had come highly recommended by a local immigrant Bishop had come across in his apartment building. The man wouldn’t dare say a word if the cops came knocking because his own documents had been faked.

  “Next.” The TSA agent at the podium motioned for Bishop to approach. “Where are you headed to, sir?”

  “Nassau. I’m a volunteer….”

  “Business or pleasure,” the agent continued while he placed the passport face down on the scanner.

  “I’m a medical volunteer for the hurricane clean-up efforts,” he replied.

  The agent glanced at the photo and then at Bishop.

  Bishop swallowed down the lump in his throat when the comparison took too long.

  “Have a safe trip, Mr. Parnell.” The agent handed back the passport.

  “Thank you.” Bishop walked past the podium with notable relief. The worst was over. Still, the conveyor belt awaited. He had been smart enough to check his duffle bag, knowing his supplies inside could have given cause for a search. That search could have led to something more.

  “Come on through.” Another agent signaled for Bishop to walk through the x-ray machine. “Stand with your arms up and feet placed on the marks below.”

  Bishop waited inside the machine while it took photos of his body.

  “Thank you. Step through, sir. You’re good to go.”

  And that was it. Bishop was clear. He gathered his belongings and headed toward the gate.

  Walsh walked into the Baltimore EMS station and approached one of the staff. “Excuse me, is Ray Zimmerman in this afternoon?”

  “He’s the supervisor for the second-shift,” the man replied as he scarfed down a ham sandwich. “He usually gets in around 6 but his shift doesn’t start until 8 tonight. The first-shift supervisor is here.”

  “You know what, I’ll try to catch Mr. Zimmerman later this evening. Thank you for your help.” He left the building and held his phone to make a call. “Hey, it’s Walsh. I left the law office where the suit was filed and thought I’d head over to the EMS office. Unfortunately, the man named in the suit doesn’t work here anymore, according to the attorney, but that the supervisor would know where he went. But I struck out. The supervisor’s not here either. I’m thinking I’ll head back and make the call to him later.”

  “Sounds good. We’ll see you back at the office in a couple of hour
s.” Fisher ended the call.

  Walsh wasn’t ready to call it quits just yet. The attorney had no reason to believe what had happened to the woman had been intentional, in fact, his suit suggested it was simply negligence and human error. But it was just too damn coincidental. Kate was right to think this was connected. Her hunches were usually spot on. Not everyone on the team had felt that way, but then Quinn was no longer part of the team.

  He returned to the station and spotted the same man sitting at the same table. “Excuse me again, sir. I’m sorry to keep interrupting. I think I would like to see the supervisor on shift now if that’s okay.”

  “Sure.” The man pointed to the door ahead. “That’s his office right there.”

  “Appreciate the help.” Walsh headed toward the closed door and knocked.

  “Come in.”

  He opened the door. “Afternoon. I’m Agent Levi Walsh.” He displayed his credentials before continuing. “Do you mind if I ask you a quick question?” The supervisor wore a concerned expression and Walsh added, “it’s about an EMT who I don’t believe works here any longer.

  The man’s face returned to that of someone with only mild concern. “Okay. Who are you talking about?”

  “Theodore Bishop. Dr. Theodore Bishop. Are you familiar with him?”

  “Yeah, of course. He worked second shift, but I guess he was let go oh, about a week ago, maybe, two. You’d have to check with Zimmerman. He was Bishop’s supervisor but works the night shift.”

  “I need to head back to my office, but I was wondering if there might be a way to find out where Dr. Bishop is currently employed.”

  The man cast his gaze toward the ceiling. “Well, he’ll be registered.” He turned back to Walsh. “You could check with the National Registry. If he’s working as an EMT now, they’ll know where.”

  Walsh smiled. “That’s good news. Thank you so much for your help.” He started to leave.

  “Is this about that wrongful death suit?” the man asked.