Past Deeds

by Carolyn Arnold

  She slowly pried her eyes from what she was reading and looked at me. “Yes?”

  “Do you think we’re looking at the same killer in all these murders?”

  “Seems likely. Same MO—as far as we can see. Straight to the heart. The ME hasn’t confirmed it yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Darrell’s heart was hit, given the location he was struck.”

  “I know you were leaning away from a hired gun, but what if someone out there makes it their business to rid loyal spouses of their problems?” Something cinched in my chest as the last segment of my sentence came out. It was a severe judgment passed upon myself. If the criteria for becoming a target was adultery, I could be a victim, too. But it wasn’t like I’d set out to be a bastard. I’d certainly been raised better and was even given the example of a long-lasting and faithful marriage in my parents.

  “Assuming all four victims were even cheating. Nadia only confirmed one widow got pictures. So far, Reid’s a rumor. With the others, all we know is they had marriage problems.”

  “Cheating being a significant marriage problem,” I tossed back, and her eyes flicked to mine. Guilt tightened its grip. While my brief affair with Paige hadn’t been the culprit behind the dissolution of my marriage, it was an obvious symptom that something was wrong to start with. It wasn’t the disease; it was a symptom… Maybe if I told myself that enough times, I would be able to tamp down my remorse. They say it takes two for a marriage to work. Then, by deduction, it would take two to fall apart. Sometimes I wasn’t as generous at forgiving myself.

  Paige held my gaze for seconds but didn’t say anything. I sensed she could tell what I was thinking, how I was feeling. She put her leg down and glanced away at the whiteboards, and when she turned back to me, her expression hardened. “The locations of the hits cover a lot of territory with—what?—hundreds or thousands of miles between them.”

  “Just means our unsub is mobile. But if Zach was here, he could tell you the distance off the top of his head.”

  “Man, I miss that guy, Pending.” Paige winked at me. “Pending” was Zach’s nickname for me. He easily dispensed with it during my two-year probationary period, but even when I became a full-fledged agent, he still found occasion to pull it out—just because he knew it bothered me.

  Good ol’ Zach.

  “Let’s not start with that again—unless it’s directed at Kelly.”

  Paige laughed.

  “But in all seriousness,” I started, “I still think we might be looking at a hit man.”

  “You’re forgetting there’s nothing to prove the transfer of money.”

  I held Paige’s eye. “So what? Our sniper is acting on their own prompting—why? And why these men?” I gestured to pictures of all the victims I’d set on the table in front of me.

  “Don’t know, but there’s something personal there—between the sniper and those men.” Paige’s gaze went to the photos. “I mean, they were shot in the heart.”

  It was the second time that Paige had pointed that out in less than so many minutes. Was Paige feeling the connection to her own life? She hadn’t been the one to cheat on a spouse, but she’d been a mistress. I met Paige’s eyes and considered saying something about our past, but her phone rang.

  “Special Agent Dawson,” she answered. “Uh-huh. Okay. Great.” She put her phone on the table. “That was Captain Herrera. The ME confirmed the shot was a direct hit to the heart. Death would have been instant for Reid. And the bullet fragments have been removed and are being sent to the lab for analysis, but it’s believed to have been a 7.62×51mm NATO bullet.”

  “Same as in these three cases.” I pointed to the report from Nadia.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “We need to call Jack.”

  “Herrera’s on that.” Paige spun her phone on the table. “But there’s more. Since Crime Scene Investigators now have the angle at which the round entered Reid’s body, they’re on the street figuring out the triangulation and where the shot may have been fired from. With any luck, within an hour or two, Herrera figures we’ll have a good idea of where the sniper set up.”

  “That’s a start.” I should be more excited about her news, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel it.

  “A start? Don’t get all excited on me,” she teased.

  “It’s just there’s not likely to be any evidence to find—at least nothing that’s going to get us to our shooter.”

  “Someone’s gone dark.”

  She has no idea! There were times it was difficult working with Paige; being paired with her, on this case no less, was a cruel trick of fate.

  “This is a tough case.” She spoke so softly I wondered if I’d imagined hearing her voice.

  I nodded. It was all I felt like doing. To say anything would just complicate things more than they already were.

  There was a knock on the door, and Officer Green entered the room.

  “I found something you might like to know. It’s from the tenant list. One of the condos is registered to a corporation, and it’s owned by Bert Pryce.”

  I could tell Green thought this finding was a gem, but— “Who’s Bert Pryce?”

  “Reid’s father-in-law.”

  “Oh.” I glanced at Paige, back at Green. “He lives there?”

  Green shook his head. “The Pryces live out in Washington.”

  “What does the company do?” Paige asked.

  “Source high-end artwork for corporate offices and hotels,” Green replied. “It’s likely the condo’s used for schmoozing out-of-town clients.”

  “The question now is whether Reid was going to Pryce’s place or visiting someone else,” I laid out.

  “And if Reid was going to his father-in-law’s condo, was he using it as his personal bachelor pad?”

  “Ballsy…if so.” I looked at Green. “Thanks for the update.”

  “Uh-huh.” Green left the room.

  “We’ve got to call Jack right away,” Paige started. “Maybe we’ll catch him and Kelly while they’re still at the Reids’ house, and they can press Arlene about this.”

  -

  Eighteen

  Kelly swallowed the feeling of validation at finding out that Reid had been shot in the heart. It seemed her suspicion about him—and the other victims—being targeted for their cheating ways was spot-on. Still, she told herself not to get attached and lose all objectivity. The investigation was still young.

  Jack’s phone rang, and he answered without putting the call on speaker. His face turned to granite, and his gaze hardened as he listened to his caller. Whatever he was hearing obviously wasn’t pleasing him.

  “We’re still here.” With that, he pocketed his phone and looked over at Kelly. “That was Paige. Apparently, Bert Pryce owns a condo at Wilson Place.”

  Another rush of vindication tore through her. She’d been right: Arlene was hiding something.

  Jack knocked on the door with the subtlety of someone notifying homeowners their house was on fire.

  Riley got the door. “Too soon to ask again if you caught my dad’s killer?”

  Sarcasm, Kelly noted. One surefire way of hedging grief.

  “We need to speak with your grandfather,” Jack told him.

  “Grandpa,” Riley shouted over a shoulder and took off down the hall, leaving the door open.

  Kelly and Jack stepped inside but didn’t leave the front entry.

  Bert came toward them, scowling. His energy had hardened with a protective demeanor that would require a chisel to penetrate.

  “We need to speak to you,” Jack said, “somewhere private.”

  Kelly never took her eyes off Bert. She was curious why he’d never mentioned owning a condo in the building where his son-in-law was shot. Were both father and daughter hiding their knowledge of Wilson Place for a reason?

 
“This is not a good time,” Bert stonewalled.

  “Mr. Pryce, it’s either we speak here or down at the Arlington police station. Your choice.”

  Bert’s gaze traced over Jack as if assessing whether his threat held merit. Kelly, on the other hand, didn’t even need to glance at Jack to know that it did.

  Bert waved for her and Jack to follow him.

  “We’d also like for Mrs. Reid to join us,” Jack requested.

  Bert stuck his head into the sitting room and motioned for his daughter to get up and come with them. Arlene cocked her head, pressed her eyebrows down, but relented.

  This time, Bert took them to a study lined with bookshelves full of law tomes. A mahogany desk took up residence in the room, along with a deep-green leather couch and two matching pub chairs. Bert sat in one of those; Arlene on one end of the couch. Kelly parked next to her, and Jack took the other chair.

  “Why didn’t you tell us that you own one of the condos at Wilson Place?” Jack said, his gaze on Bert.

  Way to just come out with it, Jack!

  Bert clenched his jaw and crossed his legs, running a hand down his slacks as he did so. Arlene was watching her father. Neither of them said a word.

  “It’s come to our attention that you own unit 1035 under your company’s name,” Jack laid out.

  Bert’s face flushed.

  Jack turned his attention to Arlene. “Did you know about that?”

  “I…” Arlene faced her father. Her hands were trembling in her lap.

  “Just leave my daughter out of this.” Bert’s tone had heat. “I don’t know where you think you’re going with this, but whether or not I own a condo in that building has nothing to do with Darrell’s death.”

  That was the second time he’d referred to Darrell’s murder as a death. The first time was to his grandson. Was it an intentional downplay or an indication there was no love lost between father- and son-in-law?

  “Are you sure about that?” Jack countered.

  Bert’s nostrils flared. “You come in here and accuse me of—”

  “No one’s accusing anybody, but we do need some answers. Some straightforward ones.”

  Neither father nor daughter made a move to speak.

  “It might help us to know why Darrell was there this morning,” Kelly put out there, aligning herself as an ally, “and why he frequently went to the building.”

  Arlene turned to face Kelly. “He—” She stopped there and rubbed her throat.

  Kelly put her focus on Bert. “Did Darrell have a reason to go to your condo?”

  “I bought that condo mainly for business purposes.”

  “That still doesn’t answer Agent Marsh’s question,” Jack said.

  Bert glanced at his daughter, then back to Jack. “If Darrell was there, I have no idea why. And you said ‘frequently’? I am at a loss.” Bert was breathing heavier than before and kneading the back of his neck.

  Jack leaned back in his chair. “We’ve found out that Darrell had been going to Wilson Place on a regular basis for years. Unless he visited someone else in the building…”

  Arlene flushed.

  “He had to have been going to my condo,” Bert jumped in. “Not sure why he’d be going there. Not even sure how he’d have gotten in. It’s not like I gave him a key. The only people who have one are Arlene and my wife. Oh, and Jeff… That’s Arlene’s brother, whom you’ve met already.”

  Arlene was picking at her pants.

  “Did you ever go there with Darrell?” Kelly asked her. “Or give him your key, perhaps?”

  Arlene slowly looked up and shook her head. “I never gave him the key. I promise Daddy.”

  Bert clenched his jaw.

  “I’d go sometimes—but by myself—to check on things if Dad asked me to,” Arlene continued. “I might have taken Darrell there once. If I did, it was a long time ago.”

  “So, you still have your key?” Jack asked Arlene.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Can you check that for us? We’ll wait.”

  Fire glinted across Bert’s eyes in response to Jack’s request. Arlene wetted her lips and headed for the door.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  The door shut behind her, and Bert leaned forward.

  “Do you think that son of a bitch got into my condo and—” His voice quivered with rage, and his face was bright red. He wasn’t that stupid, after all.

  “We’re here trying to get some answers,” Jack said.

  “It seems to me you’re looking at me to provide ’em, and I can’t.”

  “Did you and your son-in-law get along?” Kelly tried to present the question in an upbeat manner to slice through the tension.

  “He made my daughter happy; that’s what mattered to me.”

  Classic diversion…

  “Did he make you happy?” Kelly asked more pointedly.

  Bert met her eyes. “Suppose he really didn’t have to, did he? But if you wonder if I’m happy he’s dead or think Arlene’s better without him, you’ll never hear me say that. And a boy needs his father. Riley will recover, but it will take time.”

  He’d made a similar comment when they’d arrived before. “You lose your father as a young boy?”

  “I did, and I ended up just fine.”

  Arlene came back into the room and extended a key ring toward Kelly, with one key pinched between her fingers. “That’s the one for Dad’s condo,” she declared proudly, her chin tilted up and out.

  Kelly nodded, but the fact she still had her key didn’t prove that Reid had never used it. And it was possible Reid had a copy made. Kelly would point that out to Jack when they left. There was one thing Kelly needed a little clarification on. “You said you have the condo for business?”

  “I do.”

  So, if Darrell went regularly, he had to have known when the place would be available unless— “Did you make often use of the condo? For you and clients?”

  “A few times a year, if that. But it’s a legitimate business write-off.”

  If Darrell had availed himself of his father-in-law’s condo, he would likely have known that it was rarely used. But they still didn’t know for sure that Darrell had been going to Bert’s condo. “Would we have your permission to look around your condo, Mr. Pryce?”

  “I don’t know what you expect to find, but I don’t see why not. As long as I can come with you.”

  Kelly looked at Jack, who nodded.

  “Do you think you’re going to find proof Darrell was there?” Bert asked.

  Arlene’s hands were shaking, and she dropped the key ring to the floor. Kelly picked it up for her.

  “I think we should take a look. Even if it’s to rule out that Darrell hadn’t gone there,” Kelly said.

  “Very well. Let’s head over there right now and get this over with.” Bert stood, and Arlene followed.

  “It might be best if you stayed here, Mrs. Reid,” Kelly suggested.

  “Actually, she’s welcome to come if she wants to,” Jack said, overriding Kelly. She felt her cheeks flush at her stupidity. Of course they’d want Arlene present when they searched the condo.

  A few minutes later, in the warming SUV, Jack turned to Kelly in the passenger seat.

  “Do you know why we want Mrs. Reid to come with us?”

  “I do. I slipped up in there. If we find proof of Reid’s infidelity in that condo, we want to see her reaction.”

  Jack smiled at her. “You got it.”

  “There’s something else. I mean, you probably thought of it, but Reid could have made a copy of his wife’s key to the condo.”

  “Yes, I thought of that.”

  He had a way of lifting her up one second and deflating her the next. She was going to stay humble on Jack’s team.

>   -

  Nineteen

  Page grabbed two coffees from the bakery in the same plaza as the Arlington PD. One for her, one for Brandon. It didn’t matter that it was going on nine o’clock at night. She was starting to drag, and she needed to get out and clear her head—and put space between her and Brandon. And to think she’d only been penned up in the conference room for over an hour; it felt so much longer than that. Brandon was obviously sorting something out, given his shortness and awkwardness. She’d guess he was visiting their past, and it made her more than a little uncomfortable. She didn’t want to talk about it, and she got the inkling he might want to. Hence, the need to leave for a bit.

  Kelly had called to confirm she and Jack were headed over to Pryce’s condo to take a look around to see if there was any evidence that Reid had been there and, if so, his purpose there. It would seem the answer to that question was obvious, but Paige learned a long time ago that reality didn’t always turn out to be what was assumed.

  She entered the conference room, holding out a cardboard cup toward Brandon, sort of like a shield.

  “Thanks.” Brandon took the coffee from her. “How is it?”

  “How is…”

  He bobbed his head toward the coffee in her hands.

  “Oh…pretty good.” She took a sip as if on cue. “I got a call from Kelly.” Paige filled Brandon in.

  “I’m interested to know what they find.”

  “Me too. How’s the research going?”

  “A lot slower than if Zach was here to read it.”

  “True that.” Zach was a speed reader. She slid into the chair she had been in before she left. “Find out anything while I was gone?”

  “Well,” Brandon started, a seriousness reflecting in his eyes, “all the victims—the ones that Nadia found—and Reid are the same age range. Fifty-five to fifty-six.”

  “Huh. Is the sniper picking a type based on someone else?” She’d seen it before, where a killer targeted people who simply reminded them of the actual person they were angry with.

  “Obviously, we don’t know yet, but I got looking more into the victims’ lives. Their occupations and where they were killed. As Nadia mentioned, two of the three were in a regular routine of going where they were shot. Three of four, including Reid.” Brandon lifted a photograph from the spread of papers in front of him. “This is Robert Wise. He was the victim from six months ago in New Mexico. He frequented the pub he was shot in front of. Ironically called the Lucky Pub.”