Cold Shot (18 page)

“Yes. Marley didn’t exactly have a lot when she moved in. I keep the place furnished for my renters. Well, all three that I’ve had since Earl built the place back in ’06.”

“When you say she didn’t have a lot . . . do you mean she was short on funds?” Griffin asked.

Beatrice shook her grey head. “Time and desire. Both she gave solely to work, with the exception of her dad, of course. Such a sweet daughter.”

“What about Marley’s personal effects?”

“I planned to pack up her things and ship them to her dad, but Marley’s friend Paul said he’d take care of it for me.”

He took care of it all right—keeping most for himself, it appeared.

“You know Paul?” Declan asked.

“Sure. Sweet young man. Worked with Marley.”

“He come by often?”

“Occasionally.”

“You ever get the impression he and Marley were romantically involved?”

“He wanted to be. It was written all over that poor boy’s lovesick face, but Marley? Nuh-uh. She liked Paul, but it was clear, at least to me, only as a friend.”

“Did Marley get a lot of visitors?”

“Marley?” She chuckled with a swish of her freckled hand.
“Oh, my no. That girl was all about her job. Dedicating her life to others to the point she really had no life of her own.”

“Do you recall the last time you saw her?”

“It was a Thursday morning. I remember because I host Bible study here on Thursdays, and Marley always greeted the ladies on her way out.”

“When was this? Do you remember the month?”

“Yes. Beginning of March. She’d given me her rent check a few days prior. It was the last one.” Tears misted in Beatrice’s pale blue eyes.

“So she didn’t come home from work that night?”

“No, but she had an overnight bag with her when she left for work.”

“She did?”

Beatrice nodded.

“Did she say where she was headed?”

“No. I assumed her dad’s.”

“Thank you for your time.” Declan handed her his card. “In case you think of anything else.”

“You got it, young man. I’m so thankful Marley can have a proper burial now.”

“Beautiful lady,” Avery said over Finley’s shoulder.

“Yes, she was.” Finley compared Shirley’s rendering to Marley’s missing persons photo, astounded by the likeness but taking note of the subtle differences.

Avery leaned against the counter. “Always shocks me that someone can take another’s life.”

Avery was new to crime scene investigation according to Parker, but Finley would never have guessed it. She had adapted readily to
the work. Finley just prayed she never adapted to the loss—never became complacent about the death they investigated day after day.

She’d never understand how one human being could murder another, and yet the heinous act went back to the first couple’s children—Cain and Abel. Brother killing brother. It was unthinkable, and yet Gettysburg was littered with familial casualties. The cycle never ended, because of sin. Because of evil.

Avery linked her arms across her chest. “What do you think happened to her?”

“You mean
why
was she killed?” They already knew
how—
gunshot wound to the head.

“Yeah. I mean, do you think she was spying on someone? Saw something she wasn’t meant to?”

“It’s too early to speculate.” But she’d spent the last hour placing calls. Anything and everything she could do to keep her promise to Leonard and the vow she’d made to Marley—to bring her killer to justice. If last fall had gone differently,
she
could have easily been a Jane Doe dug up years from now, and she hoped people would have done their best to bring her killer to justice. Marley deserved no less.

Avery smiled. “You sound like Griffin.”

She supposed that was because they both approached things in a methodical manner. Seeing results, but not latching on to one until every possible option had been pursued.

“There’s something I’m curious about,” Avery said. “Something I wanted to run by you.”

Finley glanced over, her curiosity piqued. “Sure.”

“What’s with the tension and barbs between Parker and Griffin?”

She’d been wondering the very same thing. “No clue.” She took a seat at the workbench and invited Avery to pull up a seat.

Avery settled into the chair. “You want to hear my theory?”

“You sound like Parker,” Finley teased. “Brimming with possibilities.”

“Can’t help it—my mind is always spinning.”

“So what has it spinning about Griffin and Parker?”

“They used to all be close—Declan, Parker, Griffin, and the fourth guy they mentioned—Luke. I saw him in a couple pictures at Parker’s. I think something difficult happened and it fractured them.”

“Difficult as in . . . ?”

“I don’t know, but I’m guessing it has to do with Luke.”

“Have you asked Parker?” She always found honesty to be the best policy.

“Yes, I did.”

“And?”

“And he quickly changed the subject.”

“Interesting . . . but probably not the mystery we should be focusing our time on.” She glanced back at Marley’s picture.

“You’re right.” Avery got to her feet. “My mind tends to track on all kinds of things, but she’s where our full focus should be. How long until Declan and Griffin get back?”

“I told Griffin I’d wrap up around six-thirty or seven.” She was anxious to see him, to be in his comforting and engaging presence.

It was difficult to relax knowing someone had invaded her home again— and, as it turned out, her office too. Sweeping the lab they’d found more listening devices. She glanced at the line of small rectangular windows high on the room’s outside wall and shivered. On top of it all, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being constantly watched.

23

G
riffin and Declan made a stop by Rachel Lester’s last known address on their way up to Paul Geller’s place in Aberdeen. She lived off Pratt Street, but not the nicer end. Her apartment was above a shabby laundromat. The entrance was located at the rear of the building, and a gentleman who reminded Griffin of a run-down Donnie Wahlberg sat on a folding chair on the crumbling concrete porch.

He lifted his chin. “What you two want?”

“We’re looking for Rachel Lester.”

“And you are?”

“Federal Agent Grey and Chief McCray.”

“FBI and the po-po.” He spit out a mouthful of sunflower seeds. “What’d Rach do this time?”

“This time?”

“Rach is always skirting trouble. Figured that’s why she took off.”

“Took off?”

“Yeah. Probably been eight, nine months since I’ve seen her around.”

Same time Marley disappeared.

“Any idea why she took off?”

He popped more sunflower seeds in his mouth. “Nope.”

A small tan dog yapped in the fenced yard next door.

“Shut up, Rex,” the man yelled, but the dog continued. He stood and leaned over the crumbling stone porch wall. “I said shut it.”

With a whimper the dog quieted.

“Any idea where she went?” Declan asked.

The sun beat down on Griffin’s back, warming him despite the chill in the air.

“Nope.” He retook his seat.

“And what was your relationship with her, Mr. . . ?”

He laughed. “I’d hardly call it a relationship. We hooked up now and again.”

“You lived in the same building, Mr. . . ?” Declan asked.

“Ted Stavros, and, nah, she was bunking at my place.”

Declan glanced over his sunglasses at Griffin, then back to the man. “Living together sounds more serious than hooking up.”

“Dude, she couldn’t afford her rent. What was I gonna do? Kick her to the curb?” He wiped his nose and checked out a woman walking by. He yanked up his jeans and sucked in his gut as he replied, his eyes still fixed on the girl. “I ain’t that kind of guy.”

Yeah
, Griff thought, it was quite clear what kind of guy Ted was.

“Does Rachel have family nearby? Could she be staying with them?”

“Nah. Her family is out west, I think, and they aren’t close.”

Not sounding like the passionate, dedicated people they’d witnessed interning at GJM.

“Why’d she want to work at GJM?”

“Beats me.”

“She never said?”

“Nah-uh. You’d have to ask her.”

They’d also want to chat with Emily at GJM and see how Rachel presented herself during her initial interview and conducted herself throughout her internship.

Ted’s description of the girl was very different than the brief description Emily had given. Better not to judge until all the information was in.

The question forming in Griffin’s mind was, had she run because she was scared or because she’d been Perera’s mole? And, more importantly, where was she now?

A man like Perera, according to the picture Paul painted, didn’t leave loose ends. If Rachel had worked for Perera, she would most certainly have been considered a loose end.

Before leaving the city they made a quick swing back by GJM. Paul had just left for the day when they arrived, but their chat with Emily could be important and wouldn’t take long. It was worth the short side trip.

“Gentlemen. Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” Emily closed the folder she’d been working out of. “What can I do for you?”

“Rachel Lester.”

“What about her?”

“Who interviewed her when she applied for the internship?”

“A number of us did.”

“But you were among them?”

“Yes.” Her thinly arched brows furrowed.

“What was your impression of her?”

“I don’t understand this line of questioning. I thought you were looking for
Marley’s
killer.”

“Please,” Declan said. “It may prove quite helpful.”

“All right.” She exhaled. “As I recall, Rachel seemed quite nervous that day.”

“Like she had something to hide?”

“Like she really wanted the position.” She narrowed her eyes. “I think I see where this is going.”

“And where’s that?”

“Rachel’s past.”

“Her past?”

“Yes. As a Christian organization, we ask people where they are with their faith.”

“And Rachel?”

“Had recently come to Christ. She said she’d made mistakes in her past, but she’d given her life to Jesus and wanted to serve Him in every area of her life.”

“And you believed her?”

“She gave me no reason to doubt her.”

“Did you run a background check? Fingerprints?”

“Of course, due to the sensitive nature of our work.”

“And no record?”

“No.”

At least not adult, but Griffin figured her juvie record told a very different story.

Emily folded her hands on the desktop. “Why are you focusing on Rachel?”

“Were you aware she was living with a man at the time of her disappearance?” Declan asked.

“Yes. She told me she was having a hard time financially and was staying on his couch. I was trying to help her find a roommate among her fellow interns, but I’d hardly call leaving an internship disappearing.”

“The man she was living with said he hasn’t seen her since March.”

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry to hear that. I thought she just didn’t feel comfortable staying after Marley disappeared. Is there anything I or the organization can do?”

“Give us whatever you have on her.”

“Of course, and please keep me posted. This is extremely disconcerting.”

As they headed for Declan’s vehicle, Declan asked, “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” Griffin’s gut said Rachel was in trouble or already dead, but, then again, his gut couldn’t be trusted in high-pressure situations.

24

T
he scent of Old Bay seasoning, a Maryland staple, wafted down the hall of Paul Geller’s condo building in Aberdeen—forty-five minutes northeast of Baltimore. His condo sat on the shores of an inlet to the Chesapeake Bay, a community beachfront picnic area visible from the hall windows they passed between condo doors.

“Number 203,” Declan said.

“Up on the left,” Griffin noted, hoping Paul didn’t give them any resistance. The man was emotion-driven, which made him unpredictable.