by Robin Mahle
He began searching through the personnel files, which the congressman had insisted remain in his office. There were currently fifty people on his payroll, but plenty more who were consultants and had received payments as such. No records of those individuals were readily available here. But it would give him a place to start. Phil had known about Janine Atherton simply by watching the two together. And now there was Tasha Brenner, a woman whom he recalled, but only vaguely. He knew about Copeland’s penchant for young interns early on, but his appetite appeared to have refined in recent years, moving up to members of his staff, by all accounts. What he needed to know now was could there be anyone else?
The file drawer was also locked, but Copeland kept the keys in his safe, to which his chief of staff also had access. Upon opening the drawer, he pulled Janine’s file. He was fond of her. She was a kind woman, smart and talented. His eyes stung a little at the thought that she was gone and in a most brutal fashion.
There was nothing inside her file that would indicate any trouble had brewed between her and Copeland. She’d not been written up for anything. Her reviews were above par. Nothing at all that would denote a growing animosity from her that might suggest she was about to blackmail him. That was Phil’s first inclination: blackmail. One he thought Phelps might question in the very near future.
Continuing his search, he failed to come across Tasha Brenner’s records. Her consultancy ended after the election, and in all likelihood, it was with the other files off site. Phil moved on to other files that might reveal another potential thorn in Copeland’s side.
He was at a crossroads and the clock was ticking on Copeland’s indiscretions. They would catch up to him. This was a career-ending scandal waiting to blow.
The row house was shadowed by the tree-lined street and a setting sun. Copeland sat in his car, staring at the house, wondering if she was home. He’d considered the possibility that whoever had killed his former lovers might come after her too. Another in a string of women he’d used his power and influence to seduce. But could he tell her that her life might well be in danger? Was it too much of a leap to assume such a thing? Copeland had his share of political enemies, but none he could imagine would commit such heinous acts for revenge or to oust him from his seat.
He feared any suggestion that this woman might be in danger would backfire, and rightly so. Questions would be raised—and answers demanded. But how could he ignore the trend? The odds that the others were murdered due to any other cause was simply too narrow. He wasn’t an ignorant man, not when it came to politics. It was a treacherous business and while he’d tried to walk the line and stay in the good graces of both sides, perhaps he had offended someone in the process. An egregious offense it must have been to amount to multiple murders.
Copeland had to dig deep in his soul to determine if he was capable of withholding such information from this woman or any of the others, of which there were plenty in his tenure. But to come forward would mean his death knell.
“I can’t. Not yet. Not until I know more.” He started the engine and pulled away in hopes that the police would find answers and that he would remain clear of any suspicion. The risk of any other course of action was far too great and it seemed he wasn’t as honorable a man as he once believed himself to be.
Copeland continued toward his home and decided to make a call that might change the course of this investigation, a course that would stray away from him.
“Metro Police Department.”
“May I speak with Detective Phelps, please?”
“May I tell him who’s calling?”
He was reluctant to make anyone other than the detective aware it was a congressman making the call. “I would like to speak to him about the murder of the woman at the National Cathedral last week.”
The woman on the line paused. “I’ll put you through, sir.”
The line rang and he noted the hour had reached 8pm and questioned if the detective was still in, though his deliberation was short-lived.
“Detective Phelps here. And you are?”
“Detective, this is Grant Copeland.”
“Congressman Copeland?”
“Yes. I’d like to discuss your investigation into the death of a member of my staff—Janine Atherton.”
“I think that would be wise, all things considered, Mr. Copeland. However, I wouldn’t recommend having that discussion here. Why don’t we meet somewhere? Are you available this evening?”
“I am.”
“Good. There’s a coffee shop near Congress Heights station. When can you be there?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“I’ll see you then.”
The drive from his current location in Reston to the station would take the full half-hour even in the light traffic, but Copeland needed the time to think and to plan how he would present his situation to the detective. So far, Metro Police had only dealt with Phil Vega and while he trusted Phil with his life, this was something he was going to have to address on his own.
The coffee shop was within view as he pulled along the opposite side of the street and grabbed quarters from the center console of his Lexus. Plunking them into the meter, Copeland crossed the street shielded by the darkened skies and walked into the coffee shop. He hadn’t yet met the detective in person and had no idea who to look for, but it appeared that he must’ve stuck out like a sore thumb because a man quickly approached.
“Representative Copeland, I’m Detective Anthony Phelps.” Without waiting for a reply, he started toward the back of the coffee shop. “You need a coffee or something?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
Phelps pulled out a chair at the farthest table from the door. “I was surprised to get your call. Sit down.” A coffee cup rested on the table and when he sat down, he began to drink. “I’ve been here for a few minutes. You sure I can’t get you something?”
Copeland sat down, peering over his shoulder in search of any interested parties. He was hardly a recognizable figure, but he was wary nonetheless. “I’m sure. I came here to discuss your investigation into the murder of one of my staff members, Janine Atherton.”
“Sure. I’ve been dealing with Phil Vega, your chief of staff, as he’d indicated it was best not to involve you at this time. So forgive me if I’m a little more than surprised to hear from you directly.”
“Yes, well, there are things that, frankly, I should be made aware of and I’ve known Phil a long time. He’ll want to shield me from the worst of it. I, however, feel as though that might not be in my best interest.”
“What would you like to know? I’m still waiting on DNA evidence to come back on the car. These things take time. And I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we’ve had a similar murder—or maybe you are aware—and there are a lot of similarities between the two cases. So much so, and the fact that these murders occurred in two different states, that the Feds have decided to step in. A few calls were made and now their Behavioral Analysis Unit is involved due to the nature of these unfortunate crimes against the two women.”
“The nature?”
Phelps appeared to recall he hadn’t made mention of the notes to Vega. “There are things I’m afraid I can’t reveal just yet, but when the time is right, I will let you know.”
Copeland dismissed the comment and continued, “I am aware that a former consultant was also murdered in the same fashion, which is why I’m here, detective. I need to know how you intend on proceeding and what I can do to mitigate the inevitable damage that will come due to my association with these poor women.”
“I’ll tell you, I’m not going to have much pull as long as the FBI is involved. That said, I’ve done my best already to steer them clear of your path, understanding that this is Washington and all that comes with that knowledge.”
“That’s good to hear and I appreciate it. But how can I ensure that will continue?”
Phelps’ skeptical nature had taken hold as he eyed the congressman. “I c
an only assume your motives are pure and simply for protection against your political foes. And if that is the case, I can help to the point that I can’t. If you understand my meaning.”
“Not entirely—no.”
“I want to find out who killed these women, particularly Ms. Atherton. She is my primary concern right now. Given that, I feel confident that it was not you who killed her and I’m assuming you have an alibi. If you don’t, then you should. So, you, Mr. Copeland, are not in my crosshairs—right now. And I will continue to pursue the angles that I believe will lead me to Ms. Atherton’s killer. That is my sole purpose on this investigation. However, others may not feel as I do. And in that case, I will be forced to call upon you to help allay your association.”
“And how will I do that?”
“There are ways of pointing evidence in directions that will take me to my end goal and away from you, but it does not come without a cost.”
Copeland smiled. “I see. And what value might you assign to that?”
“We’ll have to see how things play out with the FBI and the agent I’m currently saddled with. She’s a smart woman; eager to find the truth. However, as I said, it’s unlikely you are the culprit as I doubt you would be here if you were. So, to me, no harm in finding the person or persons responsible without destroying your burgeoning career in the process. And I’m sure you will remember it when the time comes. That is the only value I can ascribe at this time, until I receive further developments.”
“Of course.” Copeland began to rise. “I have to go.” He dropped cash on the table. “You be sure and let me know what I can do and when. I’ll make it happen. Good night, detective.”
Kate pushed her chair away from her desk and peered around the cubicle wall. “You find anything in Tasha Brenner’s file that implies she knew Janine Atherton?”
“It appears they did know each other, at least in general terms. Nothing that indicates they were well-acquainted,” Vasquez replied. “Pearson received a copy of a statement Phelps shared with his counterpart in Baltimore. It detailed the two women’s roles in Copeland’s bid for re-election. Said that while they didn’t appear to be anything more than colleagues, they did come into contact with one another at the campaign headquarters.”
“Who offered this statement?”
“Copeland’s chief of staff, a Philip Vega. From what I gather, he’s been extremely cooperative.”
“That’s my understanding as well. What about Brenner’s phone records? Anything come through on that end yet?”
“No. Baltimore PD was supposed to send them to Pearson. He doesn’t have them yet.”
“Right.”
“Why? What are you thinking? I’ve seen that look in your eyes before.”
“I just think we need to talk to the congressman and I understand the implications of that. Detective Phelps made that very clear to me.”
“What are you hoping to learn?”
“I’d like to know if he has any enemies. And who he thinks those enemies might be. I’d like to get a better understanding of Janine Atherton, her role at Copeland’s office. How often they worked together. How often she worked with this Philip Vega guy. There’s too much we don’t know yet and we need to fill in some holes if we hope to make progress.”
“I understand where you’re coming from, but you have to remember that the local police are working on their end, likely on those very things. We’re here to consult. To help them develop a profile. Look, Kate, I know how you can get. But on this one, you’re going to have to take a step back. Just a little anyway. Let those guys do what they need to do. In the meantime, our job is to continue developing a profile of the unsub. Give them something they can work with. Then let them run with it.”
“You’re right. I just need more. We need to understand the type of people those women hung around with both at work and socially.”
“I get what you’re saying. Let me put a call into Pearson. See if he’s gotten any farther with the locals than we have. He was the one who came to us, so I’ll remind him that we need more if he wants us to do the job.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Oh yeah, so, when were you going to tell me that Scarborough’s profiler was Noah Quinn?”
“How’d you find out?”
“Talked to Jameson. We’re tight, you know. He might have mentioned it in passing. Actually, he was laughing his ass off. Thought it was hilarious that he tried to hit on you way back when.”
“Yeah, hilarious. Not so much when you’re trying to get a job. And Scarborough thinks he might be hesitant because of our relationship.”
“You and me? I told you, Kate, you’re not my type.”
“You know what I mean. I feel like I’m about to get screwed out of this deal.”
“And then you’d have to stay here?”
“Yeah.”
“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it? Hell, you’re junior to SSA Jameson now. Not a bad place to be. Not like you’ve hit the ceiling here yet.”
“No, I know. I guess I just didn’t think this would be a problem, not a big one, anyway. There are plenty of agents who are dating and married. Why is my relationship under scrutiny?”
“Because Scarborough is Quinn’s boss. I understand what he must be feeling. Not right and not fair, but what the hell is in this world? You’re just going to have to prove to him you’re better than the rest. That he needs you, not the other way around.” She paused for a moment. “I’ll tell you what, you want to impress him, get this profile right. They catch this guy based on what you put together, what leg does Quinn have to stand on then? In fact, I might even go so far as to get his input on what you’ve got now. Let him see how far you’ve already come, assuming you make it to the second round.”
“Not a bad idea. I need to play up my strengths. He said he’d whittle down the field by the end of this week. I should know then if I made the cut. Maybe you’re right, though. Show him what I got, maybe ask for advice. Make it look like I’m a team player.”
“Which you’re so obviously not.”
“Thanks for that.” She smiled. “No, I appreciate the advice. I’ll make it work. I do deserve the job.”
“I know you do, Kate.” Vasquez began to turn back toward her desk. “Let me make that call to Pearson and see what he’s got.”
8
It was Agent Pearson who decided a conference call was in order based upon his recent findings on the Tasha Brenner investigation in Baltimore and the possibility that the press would soon run on the story. He needed to gather a consensus on how best to continue with the investigation.
With arms pressed against his desk, he leaned over the speakerphone. “I received the phone records of Ms. Brenner and forwarded a copy to Detective Ramos this morning.”
“That’s correct. I have them, though I haven’t yet had the opportunity to sit down and review the information,” Ramos replied.
“The reason I’ve asked you all to be in on this call is that I think we need to decide our next course of action.”
“I can tell you, detective,” Kate began, “I’m struggling to complete a profile without an accurate and complete picture of our victims. So I’ll get straight to the point. Did you find anything significant on those phone records? Who was she talking to?”
There were several parties involved in this investigation, but all were after one thing and that was to find out who might have been after Brenner, then figure out if Atherton faced the same situation.
“As a matter of fact,” Pearson began, “the primary reason for this conference call was to discuss the records, though I’d hoped Detective Ramos would’ve had the chance to take a look at them first. But I can tell you that there were several calls made to her personal cell over the period of seven days prior to her death. What makes this particularly difficult is that these calls were from various numbers and not one left a voicemail nor does it appear as though she actually answered the calls.”
“So, we don’t know who they were from? I don’t see the big reveal here, Agent Pearson,” Ramos said. “They could’ve been telemarketers for all we know. We’re all plagued by those.”
“Yes, however, I don’t believe that was the case here. These calls were placed at a single specific time. All at 1am eastern daylight.”
“Have you been able to trace the origins of these calls? You said they were from various numbers. Are they all from the same location?” Kate asked.
“Each one was a Virginia area code. And pending review from Detective Ramos, I’d like to begin searching for the callers.”
“Of course. I’ll review it as soon as we’re finished here. I still don’t see that this is a major break in the investigation.”
“It is if Janine Atherton had calls from these same numbers,” Kate added.
“That’s something I’ll work on asap, Agent Reid.” It was the first time Detective Phelps added to the conversation. “There was something else you wanted to discuss, isn’t that right, Agent Pearson?”
“Yes. I’ve been getting calls from a reporter at the Baltimore Sun. Says he’s got contacts in Washington who’ve made mention of the Atherton case in connection with Brenner. He’s looking for comment. I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be able to hold him off.”
“Word gets out that these two women worked for the congressman, all hell’s going to break loose.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Detective Phelps. What do you propose?”
“Tell him to hold off. That if he gives you more time, you’ll offer up a better story.”
“And that would be?”
“Same one, but he doesn’t need to know that. Right now, it sounds as though he has no idea this involves the congressman. If he did, it would already be splashed on the front page. And that’ll work to our advantage. I think you can handle a member of the press.”
There was a prolonged silence on the line from all the parties. It seemed the detective might have overstepped with his comment.
