Cold Shot (15 page)

“No,” the woman said, brushing off her coat. “I wasn’t paying attention. Hey,” she said, smiling, “you’re Dr. Scott, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m hoping to take your 304 class next semester.”

“Oh. Unfortunately it’s already full, but I’ve got a wait list going. What’s your name?”

“My name?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, sorry, Megan.”

“Well, Megan, if you head over to registration and ask for Teri, she’ll get you on the wait list. Tell her I sent you.”

“Great. Thanks. I’ll head over there now.” She turned in the wrong direction.

“Registration is that way,” Finley said, discomfort mounting.

“Oh, right.” Was the woman feigning embarrassment? “It’s my first semester, and I still get all turned around.” Her gaze flashed past Finley and she swore panic set in the woman’s eyes.

“First semester . . . Are you a freshman? 304 is for upperclassmen only.”

“I’m a transfer student.”

That didn’t sound right. “That’s funny. I don’t remember approving a transfer student named Megan for my program.”

“Oh, I’m not officially in your program. Just interested in the class,” she said, backing away. “Heard it was awesome.”

Now something was really wrong. “I haven’t taught it before.”

“Then I must be thinking of something else.” She hurried her step, moving toward the quad. “Thanks for your time. I really gotta go.” She turned and bolted.

“Hey,” Finley called, but the woman rounded the corner and
was gone. Griffin would be livid if she followed the woman—but something was off, and she wanted to know what.

Her phone chimed.
Great
. Shifting the heavy weight of the books to one arm and shoulder, she managed to fish out her phone and glance at the number.

She picked it up. “Hello, Dr. Kent. I hope you have good news for me?”

“If you’re looking for a match, then I do. Dental records confirm your victim is Marley Trent.”

Griffin sat across the table from Declan at Jimmy’s—their favorite short-order diner in Fell’s Point. Declan had retrieved Marley Trent’s dentals from her childhood-through-college dentist in Ocean City, where her father still lived, dropped them off at the lab, and twisted Griffin’s arm into joining him for lunch while they waited, yet again.

His and Finley’s early morning visit with Vern Michaels at the range had gone well, Vern no less enamored with Finley than all the men had been. It had taken a little finagling and some “Finley charm” to get Vern to open up even a smidge, but in the end, he’d promised to ask around.

Griffin bit into his crabs benedict—a Jimmy’s specialty—the creamy sauce slipping down his lip. He took another bite, then wiped his mouth. He was waiting for Declan to bring up Parker. A lunch between them never went by without Declan’s attempt to fix matters. But sometimes things were frayed beyond fixing.

Declan took a sip of his Coke and lifted his chin. “It’s nice working together again.”

And here we go . . .
“I’m just in to make sure Finley’s safe until an ID is made.” After that it made no sense for someone
to come after her. “Speaking of ID . . . how long do you expect the tooth doc to take?”

Declan glanced at his watch. “Anytime now. Hoping it’ll confirm Marley Trent as the victim so I can dive into the case. Although . . .”

Griffin arched a brow. “Although . . . ?”

“When her name came up as a possible match, I got a visit from my boss.”

“That was quick, but you did say he wasn’t fond of cold cases.” Griffin ignored how much that irritated him.

“I think there’s more to it. When I mentioned I was running to Marley Trent’s hometown for dentals, he reacted in a way that . . .” He dabbed his fry in ketchup.

“That . . . ?”

“It seemed like he’s familiar with her or her case, and not a fan.”

“Was he one of the officers on record?”

“No, but he would have been supervising them, just as he is with me.”

“You think they dropped the ball on Marley’s case?”

“I don’t know. It was like her name alone irritated him.” His cell rang. “Hang on.” He lifted the phone to his ear. “Agent Grey. Oh. Hey, Finley. Uh-huh. Okay. Thanks.”

Griffin waited with anxious interest. “Well?”

“We got our vic.”

“Marley Trent?”

He nodded. “Marley Trent.”

“I am guessing your boss will be thrilled. So what’s your first move?”

“I’ll go talk with the man who reported her missing. Work her timeline from there.”

“Good luck.”

Declan stood and lifted the check off the table.

Griffin reached for it. “I got it.”

Declan tucked it in his shirt pocket. “You can get the next one.” He paused, turning back to Griffin. “Why don’t you come with me?”

He frowned. “To interview the co-worker? Why?” While still law enforcement, he certainly wasn’t a Fed.

“Because my boss said I’d be on my own for the cold case.”

“But you’ve positively ID’d the vic.”

“Which I doubt will change anything. Give me five while I make a call.”

Griffin agreed and strolled across the cobblestone street to the harbor, his gaze shifting to Finley’s place only a couple blocks away. Waking up at her place had felt incredible, but now that Marley Trent had been ID’d, the danger to her would cease. It wasn’t like she was a threat to the killer or still pursuing the case.

“Told you,” Declan said, joining him at the water’s edge.

“Huh?”

“Talked to O’Neil—my boss—and I’m on my own for this one, so come with. Not only can I use another set of eyes and ears, but your ability to read people is uncanny.”

Exactly what he used to think, but he was two for two and both were dead. He slid his sunglasses on, the sun bright, the sky blue, and the air frigidly crisp. Wind gusts sheered across the water as they returned to their vehicle. “What’d you do to tick off this O’Neil?”

Declan smiled. “Just being myself.”

Griffin popped a piece of gum in his mouth as he opened his door. “That’ll do it.”

“We’ve got a big problem.”

“I’m listening.”

“They ID’d her.”

“How? I took care of the dentals.”

“It seems they figured that out and circumvented the problem by pulling her earlier records.”

A string of expletives spewed over the line. “It’s only a matter of time then.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Let me run containment scenarios and I’ll be back in touch.”

“We could sweep them all.”

“It’ll draw too much attention. I’ll figure out the right nerve to hit.”

“In the meantime?”

“Keep on them.”

19

F
inley took a deep breath, knowing what she had to do and knowing the heartache this would bring Leonard. She dumped her stuff in her car and headed for his office, finding him at his desk.

He looked up with a smile. “Finley. Did you forget something?”

“Actually . . .” Exhaling, she entered the room, closing the door behind her. “I’m afraid I have some difficult news.”

He took off his reading glasses, propping his elbows on the book he was reading. “Oh?”

“I just received a call from Dr. Kent. We’ve made a positive ID. The remains we found belong to Marley Trent.”

Leonard slumped back in his leather armchair, his eyes widening. “Marley? Are you certain?”

“I’m afraid so.”

He shook his head, his dark hair closely cropped. “After all this time I feared the worst, but there was still a small part of
me holding out hope . . . Wait a minute . . .” He sat forward. “It was Marley’s body they tried to steal? Her body they killed the tech over?”

“Yes.”

“Someone didn’t want her identified. First they tried to make her disappear and now they are trying to impede the investigation. I’m so glad the FBI is taking this seriously.”

“Well . . .” She’d overheard Declan telling Parker last night that his boss was not a fan of cold cases, period.

“Well, what?”

“I got the impression this isn’t going to be a high-priority case.” Though, now that they had identified the victim, maybe that would change matters.

“They tried to shut her up in life. Now I bet you they try and do the same in her death.” He got to his feet, rounding the desk. “Well, I won’t stand for it. Promise me you’ll stick with this until Marley’s killer is caught and brought to justice.”

“I’ll do whatever I can, but I’m not law enforcement.”

“No, but you know how to work a case, and you’re familiar with Marley’s work. She dedicated her life to fighting injustice. Just as you do, giving the dead a voice and families closure.” He bent, looking her square in the eyes. “Don’t let the ultimate injustice happen to Marley. Don’t let her killer go free.”

“Yes, sir.” She’d stick with this case to the end, even if it meant stepping out of her traditional bounds and inserting herself into the investigation. Just as she had on Jessica Flores’ case.

Her stomach flipped.

She’d nearly died pursuing Jessica’s killer. In the end, he’d pursued
her
.

Please, Father, don’t let that happen with Marley’s case.

But she feared in her gut it might prove far more dangerous.

Griffin followed Declan across the footbridge leading to the Global Justice Mission’s headquarters, which were based inside Baltimore’s World Trade Center.

The area used to be part of his rookie patrol back in the day.

The Inner Harbor had changed a lot since then. More stores. More restaurants. More crime.

The crabby scent of the harbor imbued the air, making him instantly feel at home.

He walked the familiar brick path, leading to the building sharing an unforgettable name with the site of New York City’s 9/11 disaster.

They strode beneath the flags flapping in the brisk November wind, the halyard clanging against the metal post, and entered through the glass doors, moving slowly through security and taking the elevator to the fifth floor, where Global Justice Mission was located.

A doorbell and speaker sat to the right of the double wooden doors.

Griffin glanced up at the security camera angled down at them. “What do you know about this place?”

“Global Justice Mission is a nongovernmental organization that works primarily overseas to combat human rights injustice.” Declan pressed the bell.

“May I help you?” a woman’s voice asked over the intercom.

“Special Agent Declan Grey.” He held his badge up toward the camera. “And my colleague Chief McCray. We need to speak with Paul Geller.”

“Just a moment, please.”

The door buzzed, and Declan grabbed the handle and pulled.
A large counter stood before them, with GJM written in bold black letters across the grey wall behind.

“Special Agent Grey.” A tall brunette stepped around the counter to greet them. “Our Director of Public Relations, Emily Wilcox, will be right with you.”

“Great, but we need to speak with Paul Geller.”

“Emily can assist you with whatever you require.” Glancing to their right, she gestured toward the petite blonde headed their way.

“Ms. Wilcox?” Declan asked.

“Agent Grey, is it?” She shook his hand.

“Yes, and this is my colleague Chief Griffin McCray.”