FBI Agent Jade Monroe: Live or Die 03-Blood Reckoning

by Sutter, C M

  We rose from the table, and Fay headed to the back counter and started a pot of coffee. I walked with Renz down the hallway toward the cafeteria, where I was sure he’d grab a morning sweet roll like he did every day.

  “I’ll meet you back here in five. I have to use the ladies’ room.”

  He nodded and kept going.

  Minutes later, we met in the hallway.

  “Renz, what the hell is going on?”

  He blew out a loud puff. “Nothing good, that’s for damn sure. We’ve got our work cut out for us, Jade, and it has to be a group effort between all the law enforcement agencies. You didn’t hear that part of the phone call, but one of the people killed last night was the mayor’s daughter.”

  “Holy shit! Practice on the homeless and then go after the real targets? What’s the mayor’s daughter’s story?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t recognize her name, so she couldn’t have been a high-profile person in the city and definitely not a politician.”

  “So, we don’t even have a ‘type’ of individual they’re going after?”

  “Don’t know. The chief is sending over the police reports from every district that was hit last night, the times, the people killed, and the method of murder. We may end up in the conference room all day trying to put together a profile of the killers and their motive.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that. I guess what I hoped we’d be doing today is getting shoved to the back burner.”

  Renz nodded as we returned to our seats in the conference room. “Tell me about it later.”

  By that time, all eight field agents, along with Taft, were in attendance.

  “Okay, everyone, I need your undivided attention,” Maureen said. “I was alerted to a new development less than an hour ago, and it isn’t good. It looks like five more people were brutally murdered overnight. Dave and his assistants are already going from crime scene to crime scene, trying to keep up with the carnage. In less than forty-eight hours, ten people have been murdered by unknown assailants. No group has claimed responsibility, and no witnesses have come forward. This investigation will be an all-hands-on-deck joint effort between every law enforcement agency in the county. The local police for each jurisdiction and their homicide detectives are out in force. They’re interviewing everyone they can find, looking for camera footage, combing the areas for clues, and so on. We need to put together a profile of the perps and figure out their motive if we’re ever going to get ahead of the killing. There’s no indication they’ll continue with the massacre, but there’s also no indication that they’ll stop. And since serial crimes is our unit, whether we’re in a different state or right here in our own community, it’s our expertise, and we need to get ahead of this before the county ends up on lockdown and panic sets in.”

  Maureen asked if we had any questions, and I knew that since we wouldn’t have the opportunity to act on my idea, I presented it to our group in hopes that she might suggest the local police take action on it.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes, Jade, go ahead.”

  “This idea was something I was going to suggest for today, but in light of these new developments, I agree that our expertise is better used for figuring out who is committing the murders. I believe the local police districts can handle my idea.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “I was going to suggest that since Erik Smalley is the only person of interest so far, we dig deeper into his alibi of being asleep yesterday during the time frame when Brandon Dalton was shot. Whoever killed Brandon exited that alley by either cutting through yards or having a ride out. I think checking footage from every camera the police can find in the area, as well as around Erik’s apartment, may prove useful. If Erik is seen leaving that duplex yesterday morning any time prior to eight a.m., well, that ruins his alibi of being asleep during that time.”

  “I agree, and I’ll contact the police chiefs from both of those districts and get them started on that. Great idea, Jade.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” I took a sip of coffee, cleared my throat, and continued. “I also think the number five must be relevant to the killers. There has to be a reason why five people were murdered each time. There also has to be a reason that, except in Brandon’s case, all the victims were killed at night. It could be as simple as darkness giving the killer better cover, so who knows.”

  “And less likely for anyone to make a positive ID,” Carl said.

  “Good points. So, this isn’t May, the fifth month, and Saturday, when the murders began, wasn’t the fifth day of the month either.”

  Renz groaned. “Five could stand for anything like a birthday, an anniversary, or maybe five horrible things happened in the past in those districts.”

  Fay spoke up. “Were they the same districts both times?”

  “Actually, they weren’t. So that isn’t a factor or at least not a major one,” Taft said.

  Charlotte took her turn. “What about the latest victims? Birthdates, addresses? Are they twenty-five or possibly fifty-five years old? Do they have five siblings or five kids? We can speculate forever.”

  Maureen held up her hand. “I know, I know. So we’re pretty sure the homeless people, as sad as it sounds, were used as practice for the ones who were murdered last night. Do we all agree on that?” She looked at each of us as we nodded. “Then we need a plan of action and progress from there. First, we’ll tear apart the lives of last night’s victims. I want to know every detail about them down to their favorite vegetable. I don’t know how Mayor Kent wants to handle the news about his daughter, but I’m going to give him a call, offer my condolences, and see where he wants us to go with announcing her death to the public. He may be able to give us insight about her and her lifestyle.” Maureen pushed back her chair and stood. “I’ll be back soon. Meanwhile, learn everything you can about those victims.”

  Chapter 22

  We rose from the table, went to our offices, and returned with our laptops. We had five victims to investigate, and I hoped we’d find the link that made them targets. That would involve learning more about their friends, family, jobs, political viewpoints, living arrangements, and their lifestyles. Since we didn’t know what caused them to become the chosen targets, it was imperative that we dig into every aspect of their lives.

  We passed around the initial police reports to see if we could find similarities in where they were killed, the time they were killed, and the manner of death.

  After comparing all of them to each other, Renz tapped the last report with his pen. “The reports say there were cuts, scrapes, and lacerations to the neck of every victim. What they don’t say is that their throats were slashed.”

  “Sounds like strangulation, then.” I thought about the necktie killer who’d terrorized southeast Wisconsin several years ago, but the description of lacerations and cuts didn’t match that MO. Someone being strangled would typically fight back and possibly cut their own neck as they clawed at the tool used to strangle them. “And just like in the homeless murders, no weapons were found.”

  We gathered the information from the internet, then Tommy read the victims’ profiles. Tamara Kent was the mayor’s unmarried thirty-one-year-old daughter, who was employed at Dalia’s, an upscale restaurant where she was the night shift manager. There was Pete Lawrence, a forty-seven-year-old mechanic who had a wife and two teenage daughters. Sheila Kam was a sixty-year-old cashier who worked nights at a big-box grocery store. Amanda Kennedy, a nineteen-year-old, lived with her parents and worked as a server at Silver Shores Resort on Kensington Boulevard. Finally, there was George Patrick, a night shift foreman at a kitchen appliance factory. He was single and thirty-eight.

  Mike shook his head. “I don’t get it. There isn’t one victim who seems to have a connection to anyone else. None of the age groups match, and neither do their occupations.”

  “There is one common denominator—they all worked at night,” Fay said.

  Kyle agreed. “Making them easy
prey, but the killers would have to know that information ahead of time. Again, not random killings.”

  Taft returned to the conference room several minutes later and took her seat at the head of the table. “Guess the word is already out that the mayor’s daughter is dead. Mayor Kent is going to make a public statement later this afternoon. He doesn’t know how she was murdered, only that she was. The police have already spoken with her coworkers. We’re waiting for Dave’s evaluation of the COD for all of last night’s victims, which, again, will not be released to the public, especially if the method is the same for every death.” Maureen looked at me. “I spoke with the police chiefs from District Two, which covers Erik’s home, and District Six, where the alley is that Brandon was discovered in. They’re going to assign officers around the clock to check into sightings of Erik both outside and in the area of his home before eight a.m. They’ll also look for anyone coming out of that alley between seven and eight o’clock yesterday morning and let us know what they find.”

  Renz took his turn. “So far, just from the brief internet searches we’ve conducted, all five people were night shift workers, but other than that, there was really nothing that we’d consider factors they had in common.”

  Maureen wrote that down. “Check into extracurricular activities such as art classes, musical instruments they might have played, gym memberships, sporting activities, and political or addiction groups. Run the whole gamut.”

  I frowned, and Maureen noticed. She pointed at me. “Go ahead with whatever you’re thinking.”

  “The reason has to be personal, something deep and painful to the killers.”

  “So you think these are vigilante killings—a personal vendetta?”

  “I think so. Who would be mad at people who shared a common love of music or the arts?”

  “Hmm. I see your point.”

  “Can’t be, Jade,” Carl said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because who would have a vendetta against all five people who have nothing in common? How could the five of them, who likely didn’t know one another—”

  I interrupted. “We don’t know that yet.”

  “Okay, I stand corrected. How could someone have a grudge against all of those victims who probably didn’t know each other and came from different walks of life? They’d had to have conspired to do something as a group against the killer or killers for them to feel retaliation was in order.”

  “All right. We’re getting way ahead of ourselves. What’s most important is finding out what connects these people to each other and to the killers. We need to learn who each victim’s acquaintances were, talk to everyone they knew as friends, foes, workmates, or family, and then start putting the puzzle pieces together. We’ll go out as far as first cousins on the family side of it, but for now, we’ll start with their inner circles and work our way out.” Maureen’s phone rang, and we all went quiet while she talked. “Yes, Dave, what’s the verdict?” We watched as she rubbed her brow and shook her head. “And there’s no mistaking the marks? Okay, and TOD?” She jotted down numbers, thanked him, and hung up. “Wow. Just wow.”

  We remained silent while she seemed to be gathering her thoughts.

  Taft let out a long breath, sat up straight, and addressed us. “Dave’s best guess is that all five of last night’s victims were killed with some type of garrote.”

  I pulled back. “What the—”

  She held up her hands, and Renz elbowed me.

  I immediately apologized. “Sorry, Maureen, that’s just shocking to hear. Can you actually purchase them, or are they all homemade?”

  Maureen shrugged. “I’m not sure on that yet, Jade, but we’ll dig into it. Continuing on, Dave puts the time of death for all the victims between ten p.m. and midnight. What we’ll have to check out is when each one of them ended their work shift and if they went anywhere else before going home since we know their murders didn’t take place at their residences. The police departments are looking for camera footage at each workplace to see if a vehicle followed the victim after they left work.”

  “As if the perp was lying in wait,” Fay said.

  “And I’m sure they were. Because most workplaces have cameras, they probably didn’t want to take the chance of the attack being recorded.”

  Renz scratched his cheek then added his opinion. “So the victims’ vehicles weren’t at the site where they were found?”

  “The police haven’t located the vehicles yet. I’m assuming when they do, they’ll see that they were somehow disabled or the perp hit the car deliberately and then attacked the occupant.” Maureen sighed. “For now, divide up the victims’ contacts however you want, go interview them in depth about every aspect of their loved one’s life, and then we’ll compare the information later. Meanwhile, there are BOLOs out for the missing vehicles. Once they’re located, that in itself should tell us something.”

  Chapter 23

  Once we had the names and addresses for each victim’s immediate family, we headed out. Renz and I took Tamara Kent’s case. Since the mayor was a high-profile politician in Milwaukee, we needed to address his daughter’s murder immediately. We’d found out that he had left his office and returned home, but I wasn’t sure who we should speak with first—him or Tamara’s friends and coworkers.

  Since the police had already called on and interviewed the people who had worked during Tamara’s shift last night, Renz suggested we head to the mayor’s home instead. We would follow up with everyone else later.

  The Kent’s were expecting us, thanks to Taft’s earlier conversation with the mayor where she’d mentioned that FBI agents would be calling. Renz turned onto the driveway and pulled up to the intercom next to the gate. He pressed the call button and waited. We weren’t sure who answered, only that the woman said it was the Kent residence. After Renz explained who we were, she told him to park next to the portico and released the gate. He pulled ahead.

  Mayor Kent and his wife, Marie, lived on the swanky east side. Their estate, like the others in that neighborhood, had sweeping views of Lake Michigan. In front of us stood a traditional redbrick colonial home with stately white pillars and beautifully manicured gardens. The mansion appeared to be one of the originals on that block by the looks of the neighboring homes that were also gated and just as stately.

  “Wow. How much is the mayor’s annual salary?” I asked, stunned by the opulence.

  Renz shrugged. “Couple hundred thousand a year, I’d imagine.”

  I huffed. “You aren’t going to own this compound on that income.”

  “I’m pretty sure Mayor Kent comes from old money. If I remember correctly, his grandfather started one of the local breweries well over a hundred years ago.”

  “Humph.” I pointed at the portico. “Guess that’s where you’re supposed to park.”

  “Yep, I see it.” Renz parked, and we got out. I grabbed my briefcase from the back seat, then we headed up the brick sidewalk.

  I clacked the brass lion’s-head door knocker against the thick wooden door, and we waited. A woman who appeared to be in her late fifties pulled open the door. I assumed from her swollen red eyes that I was staring at the face of Marie Kent.

  “Mrs. Kent?”

  “Yes, that’s me, and apparently you’re the FBI agents.”

  “That’s correct, ma’am. I’m SSA Jade Monroe, and this is my partner, SSA Lorenzo DeLeon.”

  Marie backed away from the door to allow us through. “Please come in, Agents. Michael is in the library.” She pointed to her left. “Right this way.”

  We followed Mrs. Kent into a well-appointed library, where her husband, the mayor, sat at his desk with the chair facing the window. He stared out over the expansive lake. As I knew well, the water was hypnotizing with its tankers, barges, and sailboats passing by. On a windy day, seagulls rode the whitecapped waves.

  “Michael, the FBI agents are here to speak with us.”

  He rose from the chair. I noticed a bottle of
bourbon on the desk and an empty glass sitting next to it. I hoped he hadn’t already begun drinking that morning—it was only ten o’clock. We needed him sober and coherent, but we did have Marie, too, and although she was a mess, she seemed completely sober.

  The mayor rounded the desk and shook our hands as Renz made the introductions.

  He tipped his head toward the door. “Let’s sit in the living room where it’s more comfortable, shall we?”

  We walked with them to the living room, two rooms away. That room also faced the lake, but luckily, the sheer curtains were still drawn. I was glad there wouldn’t be outside distractions as we asked our questions.

  We sat across from the couple, on a matching leather sofa, and began by offering our condolences. The mayor nodded his appreciation.

  “Do you have any information yet, Agents, and please call me Mike. I prefer to be informal in my own home.”

  Renz took the lead. “Mike, I don’t know if you were notified of the brutal murders of homeless people that happened around the two a.m. hour Saturday morning.”

  He stared at us with a bewildered expression. “No, I don’t know anything about that, but what does it have to do with Tamara? She was our only child, for God’s sake. We need to find her killer and bring him to justice.”

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that, sir.”

  “How? Don’t police detectives and FBI agents find murderers all the time?”

  I spoke up. “There are many murderers roaming the streets who have never been apprehended, Mayor Kent.”

  He swatted the air. “Was that comment supposed to make me feel confident in law enforcement’s ability?”

  Marie frowned. “Michael, please, they’re trying to help.”

  I instantly regretted making that comment.

  Renz took over. “Sir, those five innocent people were murdered during the early hours of Saturday, and then five more people were killed last night, including your daughter.”