Edge of Black (13 page)

Chapter 25

Time was getting short. Sam had no real way of knowing how close to placing Marc Conlon and Loa Ledbetter together the police might be, and she knew she needed to get a move on to get to the airport and fly out to Denver before everyone started looking for her. God, Fletcher was going to be summarily fired, and probably prosecuted, if Bianco caught on to his scheme. And so would Sam.

“George, there’s no chance she teaches during the summer session, is there?”

“No. Too busy. She does most of her excursions during the warmer months. But she teaches a class in the spring. Sociology 102.”

“Do you happen to have that class list? From this last spring semester’s class?”

“Sure. Hold on a second.”

The screen went blank. George tapped a few words into the computer and then excused himself. He was back in just a second with a sheet of paper, a printout of the Sociology 102 class in hand. He gave it to her, and it only took Sam a moment to find the name Marc Conlon.

“Damn it, she taught one of the other victims.” Another thought hit her. “George, she wasn’t friends with Congressman Leighton, was she?”

“Not that I know of, no. But she had a wide circle of acquaintances, people who met her once and just loved her. It was a gift.”

“I can see that. Hold on one second.”

Sam grabbed her phone and tapped out a text to Fletcher, not wanting to risk calling him again in case Bianco was back to ride him.

MC was LDB’s student @ AU. SOC 102

She needed to get out of there, but she felt the photographs could tell her something. They had led her to the toxin, which was already one coincidence too many for her liking.

She decided, in order to narrow things down and make the search go faster, she’d focus only on the excursions that featured prominently in Ledbetter’s mythology: the framed photos on display in her office hallway. Those were obviously the moments she was most proud of, the ones she wanted to be remembered for. Every client who entered her business would be led past the pictures, and if they wanted to make a good impression, or she did, the photos were on display to be remarked upon.

She told this to George, who assessed her with a shrewd look.

“You should be a detective. Thirty minutes here, you’ve discovered more than the entire team of police did last night.”

“Well, being a medical examiner is more than just cutting open bodies. You sometimes need to look deeper, and know what kinds of questions to ask.”

That wasn’t a completely bald-faced lie, but close to it; she wasn’t an investigator, legally or otherwise. Her job was to lay bare the secrets of the dead using the evidence she collected from their bodies, nothing more. The relationship she had with the police in Nashville was a special one; not all medical examiners were utilized in the way she had been, as a congruent mind in their trickier investigations.

It was nice to be needed this way again.

Her text chimed. It was Fletcher, also in code. She had to think about it for a second before she realized he’d sent her flight information. Her plane left in exactly ninety minutes. She wasn’t going to have time to do the photos after all.

“George, this is unfortunate timing, and I hate to be so incredibly rude, but I have to leave. Is there any chance you could put the photos we’re talking about on a jump drive for me?”

“If you need to leave now, no. That will take too long—they’re all high resolution.” He studied her thoughtfully, his arms crossed on his chest. “Dr. Owens, please be honest with me. Do you think Dr. Ledbetter was killed? That she wasn’t just a victim of the attacks yesterday, but maybe a target? And Marc Conlon might have been, too?”

She had nothing to lose by telling him the truth. He was a sharp young man, one that Sam liked already.

“I’m starting to suspect that, George, yes.”

He nodded, then turned to the side table and grabbed a Post-it note. He wrote a few things on it, then handed it to her.

“This is the password to her account on Fotki, that’s where she uploads all of her private photos. Everything—every excursion, every excavation, every event she does is in there, dated and explained. It’s better than a diary.” He thought for another moment, then his face brightened. “Oh, hold on.”

He rushed from the room and she heard him next door, rummaging.

He came back with two books. “Here. These are the texts she uses for SOC 102. One is pretty standard for that type of class. The other one she wrote herself.”

“Wow. She’s an author, too?”

“Absolutely. This book in particular is a bit of a memoir. She uses her experiences to explain how to do ethnographic research. It might give you a place to start looking for suspects.”

She must have looked confused, because George tapped the cover of the book.

“That class, SOC 102, deals with her time off the grid, living for a year with a group of homegrown survivalists out in the woods. Doomsday preppers. The end of the world guys.”

Sam felt all the blood rush to her head.
Conlon’s status update
.

Operation TEOTWAWKI is under way.

It’s the end of the world as we know it.

“George, if you ever decide you want to move on, please call me. I’ll hire you in a second.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Owens. That is quite a compliment.”

* * *

Traffic to the airport was terrible, and Sam ended up having to run from security to the gate in the hopes of catching the flight. She barely made it; they were getting ready to shut the door to the gate when she rolled up, panting. She handed them the boarding pass, and the gate agent glanced at it.

“We’re oversold. All of the coach seats are full. There’s one seat left, and it’s in first class. Will that work for you?”

“My lucky day.”

“Here you go, then. Have a nice trip.”

Sam thanked the attendant and glanced at the new boarding pass he’d generated.

1A.

Nice. A first-class window? She could handle that.

She scurried down the Jetway and into the 747, took her seat and tucked her bag under the chair for takeoff. The flight attendant was a handsome twentysomething man who gave her a bright smile.

“Want a drink?”

She nodded. “Orange juice is fine, thank you.”

“Why don’t I put a tiny bit of champagne in that for you? You look like you need to unwind a bit, and it is after five.”

No kidding.

She nodded, and he disappeared to help the other attendants shut the doors, and grab her drink, and she finally breathed a sigh of relief. It really was her lucky day.

She wanted to call Xander and tell him what she was up to, but she was afraid that the feds might be tracking his phone, or even hers by now. Just in case, she turned it off and took the battery out, left it tucked into its pocket in her bag. She’d just have to cross her fingers that he had gone home, and she’d be able to find him before he set off back to D.C., or worse, off into the woods to search for his website friends. She had no idea how any of this worked, what a “prepper” was, or how they lived, so as soon as the flight attendant handed her the mimosa, she took a deep sip, opened Ledbetter’s memoir and started to read.

Chapter 26

Washington, D.
C.
Detective Darren Fletcher

Inez was beginning to look suspiciously like Fletcher’s ex-wife, Felicia, when he’d done something that met with her disapproval, which was more often than not. Her face was scrunched in anger, her toe tapping impatiently, her arms crossed. She was sending off prickly vibes, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

“What?” he asked finally, sick of pretending to ignore her.

“Where is she?”

“Where’s who?”

“Dr. Owens. The agents just reported back—she’s not at her house. Not at the morgue. She’s in the wind, and I think you know exactly where she’s gone. And Bianco is on the warpath, so if I were you, I’d start talking while we can still repair the situation.”

“Stow it, Inez. Last time I looked, you worked for me here, not the other way around. I don’t know where Owens is, and I’d appreciate you getting off my back and starting to help, instead of playing the Grey Spy for Madame Bianco.”

“The grey spy? What?”

Fletcher just shook his head. “Before your time.”

“Seriously, Fletcher. Where did she go?”

He stood and started to walk away. She tried to block his path, and he just smiled and sidestepped her. “Excuse me, Inez.”

“Where are you going, Fletcher?”

“I need to take a leak. You want to help me with that, too?” He ignored her cry of protest, marched straight to the men’s room and pointedly shut and locked the door behind him.

He sagged back against the door and shut his eyes. Good God above, what had he gotten himself into?

He wasn’t in the habit of getting his ass handed to him on a platter. As a matter of fact, he’d had just about enough of Bianco and the JTTF. First they brought him in like it was a huge honor, then they saddled him with a bombshell case, and now they were taking him to task for letting a suspect, which they were officially labeling Sam, get away.

He wasn’t sure exactly who had requested that he be put on the JTTF in the first place, so until he knew that, he wasn’t going to walk out. Either someone was gunning for him and wanted him to be the scapegoat, or he’d been put on the JTTF to keep an eye on things. Until he knew for sure either way, he wasn’t willing to piss Bianco off too much.

But damn, having two alpha women pushing him around all day—he’d have stayed married if he wanted to be nagged to death.

He took advantage of the lull to call his boss at Metro, Captain Armstrong. He answered immediately.

“Boy Wonder. How’s things on the inside? What’s all this mess happening? Aren’t they treating you like a god over there at JTTF?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I’ll explain in a minute. Just a quick question. Who put me up for this position?”

“I did. I thought you deserved a shot at the big time. And you’d already taken things into your own hands when you invited that M.E. into the Metro case. Why? What’s wrong?”

He should have known he wouldn’t be able to put anything by Armstrong. The man was smart and too good at his job. Fletcher didn’t sense any strangeness or animosity, either, couldn’t imagine that Armstrong himself was a part of this.

“Nothing’s wrong. I was just wondering. So you came up with this all on your own? Guess I should be thanking you.”

“Well, not all on my own. Chief of Police came to me and asked for a few names. Yours was the one he picked.”

Ah. So it was too much to hope that this shit would have happened to anyone they sent over, not just Fletcher. The chief
had
picked him.

“What’s up, Fletch? You sound like there’s something seriously amiss. I can’t make heads or tails of this text you sent me, either.”

Fletcher took a deep breath and told Armstrong what was going down, starting with the DNA and ending with the plane ticket he’d just purchased. When he was done, Armstrong let out a long, low whistle.

“Good grief, Fletch. I can’t let you out of my sight for five minutes, can I?”

“Apparently not.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Honestly? I’m out of ideas. I’ve stalled as much as I could, but shortly I’m going to have to come clean. I just need the DNA back first, before I go wrecking a man’s life. I may not agree with him on things, but nothing about this case feels right. I’m not ready to tie the knot in the noose just yet.”

“Have you stopped to consider the fact that the JTTF is right, and he is responsible for the three murders?”

“Sure I have. And they might be right. I think they believe they’re going to use the evidence in the file to prove their point, and it’s just not enough. But I can’t get at anything outside of the congressman, nothing about the attack, nothing about the other victims, who’s still sick, anything. I’m cut off, and I can’t work like that. I need as much information as possible if I’m going to do this job right. I have to talk to his family, talk to his staff again. And without knowing for sure if he’s responsible, or even capable of murder, I don’t want to tip my hand.”

“You want me to get you out entirely? I can do that. I can call the chief and ask him to pick someone else.”

“So they can get another stool pigeon in to do the dirty work for them? No, I’m better off staying in and trying to control the fallout. Sam gathered some incredible information for us today. If she can stay under the radar she can be my eyes and ears. You know how people love to talk, but the minute they see a badge they hush up.”

“I’m not sure why they would be undermining the investigation, Fletcher. We’re all on the same team here.”

A knocking began on the bathroom door, low and insistent.

“I know that. I’ve got to go. I’ll let you know what’s happening when I can. Just...keep an eye out for me, would you?”

“Will do. Watch yourself, Fletch.”

He hung up, and Fletcher unlocked the door to find Inez standing there, looking slightly abashed, as if she, too, was embarrassed by their spat.

“Bianco wants you.”

“Tell her I’ll be there in five. I need to arrange for a couple of interviews, first.”

“Fletcher, I’m sorry. I should have known you wouldn’t risk everyone’s job by letting Owens go. The cameras show that she snuck out when you weren’t looking. I’ll deal with setting up the interviews for you. Just go talk to Bianco, okay? Who do you need to meet with?”

The cameras. They monitored their own people. He didn’t know why that surprised him. Then again, nothing should surprise him about this place. It had been rubbing him the wrong way since he walked in the door, and Bianco set his teeth on edge. He didn’t know why, and that was driving him crazy.

“The wife and the chief of staff. Separately. And I need to talk to the Indianapolis police who worked the original cases, before the IBI got involved. I want to start at the beginning.”

“You got it. I’ll get everything taken care of. The lead detective on the case is dead, but he had a junior partner, I’m sure he can help. Sorry, again, Fletch.”

She walked away and he set his jaw and started toward Bianco’s office.

Her door was open, and she was sitting behind the desk, glasses on her nose, looking hard at a computer screen. He knocked on the door frame to announce himself. She looked up, smiled and gestured for him to come in.

“Shut the door, okay?”

He did, then stood in front of her desk with his hands loose at his side.

“Sit,” she said.

“I’d rather stand.”

“Really, Darren, have a seat. We need to talk, and I hate you looming over me. Makes my neck hurt looking up.”

He acquiesced, and she shut the laptop. She smiled at him, and it was different than her earlier smiles, this one looked downright genuine.

“Congratulations.”

Oh boy. Here we go.

“Congratulations on what?”

“Let’s see. In the past twenty-four hours you’ve subverted nearly all my orders, managed to gather and release a key witness, did the opposite of nearly everything I requested of you, and turned Inez into a sulking mess. So congratulations. You passed.”

“Come again?”

She laughed, a low, soft sound that he found rather pleasant, all things considered.

“I need people with imagination, Darren. Talented investigators are a dime a dozen. Talented investigators who can look past the rule books and still get results, on the other hand, aren’t quite as easy to find. You know what our job is here, right?”

He shrugged. “To save lives.”

“Not quite. To save lives
no matter what the cost
. I need men and women who are willing to do whatever it takes to thwart attacks on our country. Men and women who won’t break the law to get results, but who understand how some rules are meant to be bent, and some even disregarded in the name of the greater good. Take the congressman’s less-than-savory past, for example. Just any old investigator would have taken that file at face value and gone after the man, hard. You saw it and immediately began thinking around the edges of the case. That’s the kind of men and women I want on my team, ones who aren’t going to make snap judgments, but will take the time to reflect, to look beyond the obvious and find the truth.”

Fletcher raised an eyebrow. “I appreciate the sentiment, but couldn’t you have just told me that from the beginning?”

She laughed again. “I needed to know that you’d do the right thing regardless of orders. Now, are you cool with staying? Because from what I can tell, you and your friend Dr. Owens have made more headway into this investigation so far than my entire team.”

Fletcher hated games with a passion. He was tempted to just walk out on principle. But he was too intrigued at this point, too invested in the case, to just walk away.

“Was it your folks who rolled my house yesterday?”

“What?”

“Someone did a thorough job on my house. Nothing out of place, but a light was left off that I always leave on. I figured it was you.”

She actually looked surprised, and intrigued. “It wasn’t on my orders. I would never invade my team’s privacy like that. We should put someone on your house in case they come back for more.”

He watched her for a moment, trying to decide if she was telling the truth. She seemed genuinely disturbed by the news. Which worried him even more—if it wasn’t JTTF looking in the corners, then who was? No, she was lying. He could see a little muscle in her cheek twitching. A tell. Good to know.

First things first. “We can talk about that later. I’m in. But you pull another number like this and I’m gone faster than you can say bye.”

Bianco smiled. “Fair enough. Now I’m going to tell you what I know, and you need to tell me what you know, and what you’ve done, so we can all go forward together and shut this killer down.”