by Dan Padavona
When she rounded the house, she squinted her eyes, trying to make out the shadows beneath the deck. Impossible to see. The gun trembled in her hand as she slid along the wall and edged closer to the stairs. Close enough to make out shapes, she discerned footprints beneath the deck.
One hand on the rail, Bell pulled herself onto the deck and stood with her back to the wall. From here, she could see the snapped crime scene tape and the unlocked latch to the sliding glass door. On a silent count of three, Bell reached out and slid the door open, thankful it whispered along the grooves. She spun inside the dark confines.
The hand reached out of the shadows and gripped her by the throat. His other hand knocked the Glock from her hand and covered her mouth. She couldn’t see the man’s face, only his silhouette as he shoved her against the wall. She brought her elbow against his arm, but he was too strong. As she squirmed along the wall, a glint of moonlight caught Logan Wolf’s face.
“Wolf, let go.”
“Why should I, Scarlett? Because of you I have no family.”
Bell swung her head forward and knocked it against his. His eyes crossed, and his hand sprang off her neck. She sucked air into her lungs, but he dropped down and snagged her gun. Now he took a step backward and aimed the Glock at her chest.
“I knew you’d come,” he said, shifting to stand between Bell and the deck door. “You’re as predictable as a sunrise. You’ll go to your grave believing I murdered Christina and came back to…what is it you profilers call it?…relive the crime.”
“No. You didn’t kill your sister. But you’re walking into a trap, Wolf.”
“It appears I laid the trap for you, dear Scarlett.”
“Someone wants us dead, Gardy included. It got me thinking about the night the killer took Renee’s life.”
“Be careful. You’re walking a razor’s edge mentioning her name.”
“Put the gun down, and let’s talk this through.”
“Not a chance.”
Bell rolled her neck. Phantom fingers curled around her throat.
“The sniper who shot at us on the hill, the man who tried to kill Gardy and me, and Congresswoman San Giovanni’s assassin. They’re all interconnected, and you’re at the center.”
“A serial killer took my wife, just as he murdered Christina. He’s still in the village, Scarlett. I can sense him. And before I leave this little village, I’ll feed him his heart.”
A sound came from outside. Someone running through the sand.
“We have a visitor,” Wolf said, turning his attention toward the windows.
“I called for backup. If I were you, I’d put the gun down and vanish. I doubt Detective Larrabee came alone.”
A second set of footsteps circled the house.
“You buy these conspiracy theories. I see it in your eyes. Interesting.”
“Think back, Wolf. Did you investigate Senator Ewing?” Stunned, Wolf glared at Bell. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Because San Giovanni started a file on Ewing, and a month later, a sniper put a bullet in her head.”
Wolf shook his head.
“No, it can’t be. A serial killer murdered Renee.”
“That’s what he wants you to believe. Tell me what you knew about Ewing.”
Wolf flung the sliding glass door open and escaped into the night a split-second before the police burst into the house.
“Freeze, police!”
“Don’t shoot, Larrabee. It’s Agent Bell.”
Bell raised her hands. The lights flicked on, blinding her. Larrabee, dressed as Bell had last seen the detective, rushed into the room beside a male officer a head taller than her.
Bell walked to the staircase and craned her head toward the landing, a diversion to pull Larrabee away from the deck. Though Wolf threatened her, Bell felt an undefinable need to protect him. He was just as much a victim as Renee and Christina.
“Was the killer here?” Larrabee asked, drawing her gun.
“A man broke inside,” Bell said, nodding at the torn police tape flapping in the wind. “He must have heard me, because he jumped off the deck and ran toward the neighborhood before I could cut him off.”
“I want the CSI team back,” Larrabee barked at her partner. “Have them dust the door for prints and go over the downstairs with a fine-tooth comb. Find out who was in this house tonight.”
Wolf wore gloves, but Bell worried he’d left a trace of DNA evidence behind.
“The team is on their way,” the officer said.
“Thanks, Vargus. Agent Bell, meet Officer Luke Vargus.”
Vargus tipped his cap. Bell touched her neck, drawing Larrabee’s attention.
“You okay?” Larrabee asked Bell.
“Yeah, I slept wrong on the plane.”
Larrabee nodded without taking her eyes off Bell. With her partner on the phone, Larrabee inched closer, her hand brushing the hair off Bell’s face.
“It looks like someone grabbed you. Your neck is red.”
“I keep rubbing at the pain, trying to loosen it up.”
“Stop by my car on the way out. I keep aspirin in the glove compartment.”
Bell waited with Larrabee and described the approximate size and age of the intruder. A half-hour later, the CSI team arrived.
As the crew went to work, Bell checked her phone. No news from Gardy.
Did Senator Ewing order the hit on San Giovanni?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The knock on the hotel room door pulled Bell out of sleep. Night butted against the window. Too early for housekeeping.
Bell crept to the peephole and exhaled at the sight of Gardy, her exhausted partner leaning against the door frame.
She unlatched the bolt and let him wander inside, a carry-on bag tossed over his shoulder.
“What time is it?” Bell asked, squinting when she flipped the light on.
Her nightshirt rode up her hips, and she tugged it down as he pulled his eyes to the wall.
“It’s too late to be awake.” He tossed the bag in the corner and slumped into the lounge chair in the corner. “Sorry. No vacancies in the village. Do you mind if I crash?”
“No, no. You can stay. It means a lot that you came.”
He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
“First things, first. You’ll want to see this file.”
“Hold on, Gardy. I need to wake up.”
Bell pulled a half-full soda bottle from the refrigerator and took a swig while Gardy loaded the Ewing file. She raised a finger and disappeared into the bathroom. Closing the door, she scowled at the mess of hair atop her head and ran a brush through the knots. Testing her breath against her palm, she grabbed her toothbrush and scoured the stench out of her mouth.
By the time she finished, her head cleared of the grogginess. She leaned over Gardy’s shoulder and began reading.
After a minute, she sat on the corner of the bed and dropped her face into her hands.
“This can’t be true. If it is, Ewing is—“
“A cold-blooded killer.” Gardy scrolled to the middle of the document. “San Giovanni asserts Senator Klein’s car crash wasn’t an accident.”
Twelve years ago, Senator Klein held an eight-point advantage in the polls over Ewing before his car shot off the interstate during a rain storm and ended up at the bottom of the Potomac.
“You didn’t read all the way to the bottom,” Gardy said, handing Bell the tablet.
Gardy spun the chair toward Bell, who skimmed through the congresswoman’s findings. Her eyes froze over the last paragraph.
Against the orders of his superiors, one FBI agent investigated Klein’s death and suspected foul play. A BAU agent named Logan Wolf.
The new knowledge hung like a sword and kept them silent. When they finally debated the findings, neither could keep their eyes open.
Bell wasn’t certain when she fell asleep. She recalled thrashing beneath the covers, the implications of the secret document haunting her every time she closed her eyes. N
ow the sun beamed through the windows. Gardy lay curled under a sliver of blanket at the foot of the bed.
Bell sighed and folded the covers over him. He made a contented groan and pulled the sheet over his face.
The shower spray steamed the bathroom. Bell leaned one arm against the wall as the water cascaded over her head. According to San Giovanni’s findings, Ewing built a network of mercenaries and special ops soldiers. She hadn’t uncovered the money trail before she died.
Bell toweled her hair dry, adrenaline keeping her upright when her body wanted to sleep another eight hours. After she dressed, she found Gardy awake and waiting for her on the chair.
His cheeks colored when she turned on the light.
“I don’t remember crawling into your bed. That was terrible of me.”
“If anyone should have the bed, it’s you. That chair must be murder on your leg.”
“Pretty damn inappropriate, though.”
“Gardy, I trust you,” Bell said, wondering what might have happened had she woken before dawn and found Gardy sleeping beside her.
“Anyway, it won’t happen again.” Bell flicked him with the towel. “What was that for?”
“You snore.”
“I don’t.”
“Really now? You sound like a cow with a tuba stuck up its—“
“Fine. Can we get breakfast and figure out how to handle this Ewing situation?”
“There’s a cafe down the block. I hope you brought something besides your work clothes. It’s a million degrees outside.”
Gardy changed into shorts and the unfortunate Florida Is Hawt t-shirt he’d purchased in the airport gift shop. When he pinched the bridge of his nose against the headache-inducing sun, Bell offered him her sunglasses.
After they grabbed croissant breakfast sandwiches, Bell led the way to the village park. Except for a mother and toddler using the swing set, the park was empty when Bell and Gardy grabbed a bench beside a tennis court. Gardy scanned the street, stopping on the parking garage. Too many places for a sniper to hide.
The injured, betrayed look in Gardy’s eyes felt like a kick to Bell’s stomach. He’d devoted his adult life to serving his country, always playing by the rules, and now he couldn’t trust the BAU or his elected officials.
“You know I don’t have a weapon,” Gardy said. “TSA frowns on that sort of thing.”
Gardy needed the FBI to submit an armed travel request allowing him to bring the Glock. No way he could have done so without alerting Weber.
“I have a backup weapon.”
“What? Why?”
“Remember I bought another Glock after Weber suspended me?”
Gardy scratched his head.
“Yeah, I remember. If I’m going to break the rules, I might as well go for broke. Tell me why the senator wants Wolf dead.”
“Wolf talked to the wrong people about Ewing, and the senator found out,” Bell said, watching the mother give the swing a shove.
Gardy picked at a dandelion and tossed the flower into the grass.
“Why not order the hit on Wolf? Take him out and Ewing is free and clear.”
“You know the answer, Gardy. A man like Logan Wolf isn’t easily killed. Better to frame him, turn Wolf’s own people against him.”
“So Ewing hires someone to kill Renee and makes it look like Wolf did it.”
Bell wrapped the rest of her breakfast and set it aside.
“And he makes the murder appear ritualistic, convincing Wolf a serial killer targeted his wife.”
“But we don’t have a single witness to corroborate the congresswoman’s assertions. And there’s no telling how many people this involves.”
Bell leveled her eyes with Gardy’s.
“We know one person who’s involved. Don Weber.”
Gardy deliberately set his breakfast down on the park bench.
“This again?”
“His sole focus is Logan Wolf. It’s not an obsession. Weber didn’t care about bringing Wolf to justice. He wants Wolf out of the way because Wolf has information on him.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“I’m still connecting the dots, but I guarantee Weber is protecting Senator Ewing. You said so yourself a thousand times—the government promoted Weber beyond his competency. Could be Ewing agreed to push for Weber’s promotion if the deputy director buried Wolf’s case against him.”
“So why do Ewing and Weber want us dead?”
Bell scrutinized the shrubs bordering the park. She felt eyes on her.
“Because Weber knows Wolf helped me at Blackwater Lake and in New York, and Weber is afraid we’ll share information and blow him out of the water. That explains why Agent Flanagan followed us. I think I’ll call Harold and have him query the 2013 database for any documents pertaining to Logan and Renee Wolf.”
Gardy leaned back and locked his fingers behind his neck. The corners of his mouth tilted upward, suggesting Bell’s conspiracy theories had hit a new level of ridiculousness. But his mind worked behind his eyes. Missing puzzle pieces fell into place.
“There’s one way to prove Weber and Ewing tried to kill us,” Gardy said, cocking his eyebrow.
“Go on.”
Gardy chewed the last of the croissant and tossed the wrapper in the trash.
“Let’s catch a sniper.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Larrabee shot Gardy a perfunctory look. No doubt the special agent’s touristy clothes tampered her enthusiasm for Bell’s partner. The detective’s eyes glistened with intensity. Bell thought she could read Larrabee’s doubts as if flipping a magazine open.
Detective Larrabee joined the Fair Haven Beach PD twelve years ago and found the department dominated by white males. They’d confined Larrabee to small cases, a quiet prejudice aimed at keeping her low on the totem pole. But she won the respect of her colleagues and rose through the ranks to detective on talent and steadfast persistence.
Larabee swiveled her gaze between the two agents.
”Tell me why you brought me here.”
They sat at a long wooden table with years of scribbles etched into the surface. Bell preferred the neutral ground of the community college library. She didn’t want Larrabee’s colleagues overhearing what they had to say.
Florescent strip lighting hummed overhead. Two female students strolled among the stacks, and Bell waited until they moved on before she slid the FBI reports to Larrabee detailing the congresswoman’s assassination and the attempted murders of Gardy and Bell on the Chesapeake Bay. Larrabee set the two documents beside each other and moved her eyes between each, comparing.
“The assassination upset me,” Larrabee said, turning the documents face-down. “San Giovanni was a beacon of hope for a lot of us. I buy your argument that the same shooter tried to kill you after you aided the congresswoman. But I fail to see what this has to do with my case.”
Bell knew bringing Larrabee into the fold was a huge risk. If the detective dismissed the claims, she might contact Weber. But as Bell laid out her argument, the doubt vanished from Larrabee’s face. The detective’s eyes sharpened at the mention of Senator Ewing. Bell handed Larrabee the iPad.
“Agent Gardy discovered an encrypted document on the congresswoman’s home computer. One of her sources claimed Ewing orchestrated Senator Klein’s death, and I’m convinced Deputy Director Weber works for Ewing. I already confirmed Logan Wolf was the only BAU agent who pursued the Ewing case. ”
Hearing Wolf’s name rattled Larrabee. A female librarian pushed a cart of books past the table. When the woman turned the corner, Larrabee leaned forward.
“The FBI report implicates Wolf in his sister’s death. Tell me the truth, Agent Bell. Is Wolf in my village?”
“Yes, but I assure you he didn’t murder Christina Wolf. She was his only family.”
“You must know Logan Wolf well if you can speak to his character. That concerns me.”
“Nobody at this table trusts Logan Wolf,” Gardy said, breaking
in. Bell looked at him in warning. “But I agree with Agent Bell. He didn’t murder his sister. Another killer did.”
Larrabee dropped her pen on the desk.
“Two serial killers. Any more good news you want to share with me?”
“Look, we aren’t asking you to alter your investigation,” Bell said. “Continue searching for Christina Wolf’s murderer as you have with full support from the FBI.”
“And by FBI you mean the two of you, not Deputy Director Weber.”
“Yes.”
“So what do you want from me?”
“Work with us. If I’m right, we’ll catch Christina Wolf’s killer and the man who tried to shoot Gardy and me.”
“What makes you think the sniper is in Fair Haven Beach?”
“Because the attempt on our lives felt desperate. Weber and Ewing know we’re gathering evidence to bring them down, and Wolf is at the center of the conspiracy.”
Bell suggested a plan to lure the sniper out of hiding. Larrabee chewed on the idea for a long time before locking eyes with Bell.
“So you want me to turn you in to the FBI. Risky. If this plan blows up in your faces, you’ll both go to jail.”
As Bell continued, Gardy shifted uncomfortably. Bell hadn’t shared her plan with him until now.
“Phone Don Weber and suggest your concerns about the way I’m handling this case, ensuring you mention Gardy is here. In the meantime, I’ll plant an idea in his head.”
“Explain.”
“There’s a man who follows my cases. A reporter named Gavin Hayward.”
“I’ve never heard of him. Is he with The Times or The Post?”
“Neither. He writes for a gossip rag called The Informer.”
Larrabee’s mouth twisted.
“Yes, I’m aware of The Informer.”
“Hayward begged me for the inside scoop for months. I’ll tell him we’re meeting with Logan Wolf and give him a location of our choice. As soon as Hayward releases the news, the BAU will find out. Weber and Ewing can’t resist an opportunity to kill all three of us.”
Larrabee drummed her fingers on the desk and looked up at the lights.
“What a world we live in where a snake like Ewing can elevate himself to the top of the government. But as much as I admired Congresswoman San Giovanni, this document is conjecture and hearsay. I’m going out on a limb for you.”
