Deadlock (18 page)

12:07 A.M. WEDNESDAY

Thatcher punched his pillow, willing sleep while his mind raced. What would it take for Aiden to surrender the list? What else did the kid know? Did his brother even want it found?

While his thoughts swirled, an image of Bethany refused to let him go. She’d taken on the job to help bring down a serial killer, vowed to find her best friend’s attacker, and was plagued by a felon brother and a family who supported him.

He should tell her the case came first.

He should urge her to leave Elizabeth’s attack to HPD.

He should have her brother arrested. Between his threatening texts and possibly arranging a hit-and-run
 
—yes, he believed Lucas wouldn’t stop until Bethany paid for his last jail stint
 
—the man needed to be locked up. What kind of brother threatened his sister?

Thatcher’s mind raced on. . . .

Lester Willis was cleared of anything to do with his ex-father-in-law’s death. Thatcher had expected the confirmation
 
—one more item off his list.

One of the things puzzling him was Tyler Crawford. He saved Bethany’s life, and now he seemed to be fighting to save his own. With a clean record and positive steps to better himself, did he have a connection to Lucas, or was Tyler’s presence at the scene of
Bethany’s near hit-and-run coincidence? The FBI had nothing on a man called Deal, which meant Thatcher was wrestling with the claims of a street kid. How bizarre was that? But the possibility kept him awake and concerned about Bethany’s safety, a missing young man, and an obnoxious thirteen-year-old who had no future unless he made changes. Aiden now resided with a retired FBI couple on a farm north of Houston.

The need to arrest Scorpion rose with urgency. Couldn’t establish motive when all they had to go on was the same gun and plastic scorpions.

Thatcher climbed out of bed and flipped open his laptop. Not sure why the Caswell security video with Mae Kenters bothered him, but he wanted to view it again. After accessing FBI files, he studied the video prior to her leaving for her break, and Ruth Caswell’s death.

He slowed the footage and isolated the frame when she glanced at her watch. There . . . a nervous twitch.

He continued as she walked to the window. He isolated the frame again, zoomed in where her right hand rested on the window latch, and slowly observed what was happening. While Mae’s attention was supposedly on the left side, her right finger moved slightly. He’d wondered why the window had her attention with cooler temperatures outside.

Now his observations demonstrated an accomplice. Most likely not a willing one.

8:30 A.M. WEDNESDAY

After SSA Preston’s short briefing on Scorpion, Thatcher made his way to Bethany’s cubicle. She appeared glued to her computer screen, so he cleared his throat.

She glanced up, her face troubled. “Hey.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sure. Just frowning into the computer.”

“I want to talk to Mae Kenters again.” He pulled his phone from his jacket. “Take a look at this footage of Mae Kenters prior to leaving Ruth Caswell’s bedroom for her break.”

“I’ve seen it,” she said.

“I’ve isolated a zoomed-in segment.” He handed her the phone. “Two minutes before leaving the room, she sets aside a magazine and walks to the window.”

“The same window where the killer entered?” She watched the video. After thirty seconds, she pressed Pause. “I have no idea what you want me to see.”

“Look again.” Thatcher watched her narrow in on the window scene.

“Thatcher, her hands are trembling.”

“Correct. Although we’ve put this case on hold while investigating the other two, it does raise questions about her testimony.”

“Won’t hold water in court.”

“But it would make for interesting questioning.”

“Figured so with what you discovered.” She reached for her notepad. “Will her lawyer be cooperative?”

“This is a house call.”

Irritation flashed at him.

Must not be a good day for Special Agent Bethany Sanchez. “What’s wrong? Another text from your brother?”

Her lack of expression told him fathoms about what was happening underneath. “Remember when you explained how you handle negative emotions?” she said. “I’m trying to evaluate mine and put them in the right perspective. A long time ago, I chose to confront and stop Lucas’s irresponsible actions. Nothing’s changed. I stayed awake last night thinking about him and a possible connection to Tyler Crawford. My brother’s capable of a hit-and-run, and Tyler’s quick reaction on the scene saved my life.” She shook her head. “Lucas knows where I volunteer. If I learn he attempted to seek revenge by arranging Elizabeth’s attack, I’ll be the one out for retribution. Goodness, I rattled off a bunch of stuff that didn’t
make sense to me.” She shrugged. “I’m ready for the lecture about putting my energies into Scorpion.”

“You already know the appropriate measures to deal with Lucas.” He leaned toward her. “Bethany, how can you work this case when he’s constantly taunting you?”

“I’m reconsidering.”

“Will you tell me what he said?”

She handed him her phone. “I’ve kept all of them. They’re coming from two burner phones. Here’s the latest.”

It’s over when i say it’s over

“That’s a threat to a federal agent.”

“He threatened you verbally, Thatcher.”

“By name?”

She reached out as if to touch him but drew back. “I want a little longer to think about pursuing charges against my brother.” She rose from her chair. “Let’s see if Mae’s ready to change her story.”

Thatcher would let it go for now. “Would you lead out? She’s fragile.”

She slid him a cautious glance. “You’re risking a lot with me posing questions.”

Mae Kenters lived on the west side of town in a modest town house. They didn’t have a warrant and were banking on her cooperation. Mae’s surprise etched into her face at the sight of the agents.

“Ms. Kenters, we have a few questions for you,” Bethany said. “Can we come in?”

“I suppose. I already told you everything, and I have to work today.” She hesitated, then opened the door wide. She gestured down the hall. “I’m about to have coffee. Would you like a cup?”

“No, thank you,” Bethany said.

Mae’s kitchen had a country feel with splashes of sunflowers and ducks. She moved slowly, finding the exact mug in the cabinet, pouring coffee, adding cream and sugar, and finally lowering
herself into a chair. She twisted her watch and repeatedly stared at the time.

Bethany removed a notepad from her purse. “We won’t be long. Special Agent Graves has discovered a discrepancy in the security camera video from the night of Mrs. Caswell’s murder.”

“In what way? I explained everything to the police officers and you people.” Her trembling hand reached to her lips. “I loved Ruth.”

“Mae,” Bethany began, “I know you cared for her. No one disputes your devotion.”

“Then what’s this about? Should I call my attorney?”

“Contacting your attorney is your choice. All we want is an explanation of a brief moment in the footage.”

Thatcher displayed the captured frame and the slight movement of her hand.

Mae swallowed hard while she clenched her fingers into her palms.

“We think you’re being blackmailed by Mrs. Caswell’s killer. Is this true?”

Mae continued to stare at the pic.

Thatcher cleared his throat. “Mae, you’re a good woman and an excellent hospice nurse, and I understand your aging parents live here with you.”

“They’re still asleep upstairs. Rough night.”

“Are you hiding critical information to a murder case?”

Tears seeped from her eyes. “Scorpion doesn’t offer empty threats.”

“We can keep you and your parents safe. Scorpion’s killed four people that we know of. Are there more?” he said.

She trembled. “I hope none.”

“Do you want to face murder charges with a serial killer?”

Mae sobbed.

Bethany grasped the woman’s hand. “Fear is an ugly enemy. Its venom robs us of our hopes and dreams. Sometimes it takes
innocent lives with it. Will you tell us the truth about the night Ruth Caswell was murdered?”

Mae wept as though her very soul wrestled with the facts about the crime. “A man called me about a week before it happened. His voice was distorted, but I distinctly heard him say his name: Deal. I have no idea why he chose me.”

No coincidence the same man who phoned Mae threatened Tyler and Aiden Crawford. Thatcher’s mind jumped from one supposition to another. How deep were Scorpion’s claws and why? One thing seemed certain: Lucas Sanchez had been in jail during three of the homicides and therefore had nothing to do with the serial killer. Bethany’s brother had his own agenda.

“It’s all right,” Bethany said. “Go on.”

“He threatened my parents if I didn’t give in to his demands. He told me to unlock Mrs. Caswell’s bedroom window before leaving for my break. I thought he planned to rob her, not kill her. When I saw the poor woman and all the blood, I . . . I couldn’t believe it. Lying is wrong, but murder must come easy to him.” She dabbed her nose with a napkin from the kitchen table.

Bethany peered into the woman’s face. “Are you ready to swear to your statement?”

“And you’ll keep my parents safe?”

“I promise.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I’ll sign anything to get him off the streets.”

Thatcher displayed a photo of Alicia Javon. “You’ve never seen this woman?”

“No, sir. I’d tell you.”

He showed her one of Tyler, and she moistened her lips. “Last spring, I volunteered one night a week at the Lighthouse
 
—you know, the homeless shelter downtown? Forgot to mention that when we spoke before. This young man and I often served dinner. Then my schedule filled with hospice work. I discontinued the volunteering and never saw him again.”

“What about this woman?” He pulled out a photo of Dorian Crawford.

“I saw her at the Lighthouse too, not as a volunteer but using the shelter.”

“What can you tell us about her?”

“It’s been a while. She was eccentric. More like multiple personalities. I remember she always asked Tyler for more food and if he had money.” She shook her head. “I told him not to do it, but he never listened. Promise me you’ll do everything to protect my parents. I don’t care about me. Just them.”

“We’ll do all within our power,” Thatcher said, but he couldn’t make her a promise.

5:37 P.M. WEDNESDAY

Bethany breathed a prayer of thanks. Elizabeth was doing much better, and the doctor targeted Friday for release. HPD hadn’t made any arrests in her assault. How could Bethany fault them when her own case lay in the fridge?

Thatcher stood in her cubicle’s doorway. “Ever work undercover?”

“Once in a real estate office.”

“Late tomorrow afternoon we’re going homeless.”

“Where?” She held up a finger. “The Lighthouse?”

“Yes. This mysterious Deal might be working there.”

“And Deal is Scorpion?” She hoped so because it brought them up another rung on the investigative ladder.

“Looks that way. I’d like a round with Dorian. Her name muddies this mess, and I want clarification. If Aiden is aware of a man called Deal, what are the chances she knows him too?”

“Big-time.”

At Noah’s Loft, Dorian opened the door. She paled at the sight of Bethany. “Why are you here again? Bad news? My boys
 
—”

“We need to talk to you,” Bethany said, evaluating the woman’s speech for her mental state.

Dorian let them inside and turned to Thatcher. “Are you FBI?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She raised her fist. “Don’t get me or my boys killed. Have you found Tyler? Is Aiden okay?”

Bethany stepped between them, not sure if Dorian would attempt to strike a federal agent. “We haven’t found Tyler, but Aiden’s safe.”

“At juvie?”

“No.”

“Where?”

“He asked we keep the information private,” Bethany said.

“Then don’t be expecting me to tell you about the evil here.”

“Dorian, I don’t bargain well. If you’re withholding evidence in Elizabeth’s assault, you’ll be prosecuted.”

She humphed. “It’s a police matter, not yours, Ms. FBI.”

Bethany leveled a gaze at her. “So the motherhood thing is an act?”

Dorian’s eyes shadowed. “This is one demon trip after another.”

The cook appeared. “Excuse me, Ms. Dorian. Did you pick up the chocolate chips? We have the batter all ready for them.” She smiled at Bethany. “Some of the kids and I are making cookies. We’ve talked about it for a couple of days.”

“I’ll show you where I put them,” Dorian said.

“We’ll expect you in the director’s office,” Thatcher said. “We have questions.”

The cook disappeared down the hall with Dorian. Bethany led Thatcher to Elizabeth’s office and closed the door behind them. The bloodstains had been scrubbed from the floor and her desk was in order, more so than Bethany could ever remember.

“Thanks for defending my honor.” Thatcher laughed. “She is a piece of work.”

“The woman makes me crazy.”

The computer took a few moments to spring to life, and all the while Bethany studied the small room for indications of what happened to Elizabeth.

When the screen brightened, Bethany pulled up a document
titled, “Staff and Volunteers” and scrolled to Dorian’s information. Name. Address. Phone number with “landlord” in parentheses. No reference letter. Odd how a volunteer becomes a resident and plays both roles.

Thatcher searched the hard files for volunteer info, including the board of directors. Other than Dorian’s missing TB test and reference letter, the information was in order.

Dorian returned, and Thatcher pointed to an empty chair. “Have a seat.”

“I’ll stand.”

“Sit down, Ms. Crawford. Our investigation shows the address given to Noah’s Loft on your volunteer application doesn’t exist.”

“Privacy’s my choice. Besides, I’m staying here now.”

“I understand Ms. Maddrey contacted you through your landlord.” When Dorian affirmed the information, he continued. “Is the number here accurate?”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned to Bethany. “Would you call for verification?”

Bethany pressed it in while moments ticked by. “It rang several times. No voice mail.”

“He must be out,” Dorian said. “Try later.”

“Your signature on the volunteer form is supposed to verify your information is true,” Thatcher said.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Another matter comes to our attention,” he continued. “As a courtesy, Special Agent Bethany Sanchez attempted to find your son Tyler. At the time, you claimed fear for your sons and a willingness to help law enforcement find Ms. Maddrey’s attacker. In doing so, we obtained testimony about a man referred to as Deal, who may be Scorpion, the serial killer. Do you know a man named Deal?”

“Never heard of him. It’s evil doings. If you don’t leave me alone, Scorpion will believe I talked.”

“Give us his name.”

“I don’t know who he is. A demon told me about him when I was asleep.”

Dorian was truly delusional. Talking to her went against everything Bethany believed as logical.

“We’re taking you in for questioning,” Thatcher said. “You’re withholding evidence.”

“This makes no sense.” Dorian whirled to Bethany. “You lied to me. Said you’d help with my boys, and Tyler’s still missing. What do you have to say for yourself, you worthless
 
—?”

Bethany had been called worse. The woman desperately needed medical help. No wonder Aiden held such animosity toward his mother.

“I know my rights and want a lawyer.”

“Everyone should have proper legal representation,” Bethany said. “We’re leaving now. Will this be peaceably or in cuffs?”

“I’m going.” She spit a mouthful of curses, and one more time, Bethany was ready to strangle her.

In the hallway, the cook and three of the children met them. One of the children held a small paper plate of cookies slipped into a plastic bag, and the cook carried another.

“One for both of you,” the cook said. “Elizabeth and I talked about doing this for you the other day, and the children wanted to help.”

“Thanks so much, but remember I’m diabetic,” Bethany said.

The cook offered her plate to Bethany. “These are sugar free.”

“How very thoughtful.”

“If you like them, I’ll give you the changes in the recipe.”

Bethany didn’t want to upset the children with Dorian in custody, so she took the cookies and bent to the children. “Thank you. I can’t wait to eat these.”

Dorian shook her finger at the cook. “You don’t have any business giving away these cookies.”

The cook huffed. “You’re not in charge, and you knew we planned to give Bethany a few special ones.”

The cook handed the second plate to Thatcher. “These are regular, buttery chocolate chip cookies. The kids helped with these too.”

Thatcher took the plate.

They did smell good. Bethany wished someone would offer a plate of information to further sweeten their day and end the string of crimes.