Mortal Sin (30 page)

Finally, Noah said, “We need to bring Fran Buckley in for questioning and track down Mallory. I don’t suppose you know where he is?”

“No,” Hans said. “We just made the connection this morning, haven’t even started looking.”

Noah glanced at Abigail. “Can you get a current address on him?”

“Will do.”

“About Fran,” Kate said. “Pulling her in may not be to our advantage.”

“Why’s that? Hans said we had proof that someone at WCF killed those parolees.”

“No,” Hans corrected, “we have proof that the parolees were killed the night they were set up to be re-arrested by volunteer cops. One more thing to consider—their personalities.”

“Explain.”

“Buckley and Mallory are not leaders. Mallory has always taken orders. He was in the military, he went undercover and had a lot of leeway, but always acted at the direction of a superior. He never did his own thing. Even when he was undercover at Trask, he did it at the direction of a high-ranking FBI agent. Buckley runs WCF, and on the surface you might think she’s a leader, but she was an SSA for seven years in Boston and didn’t do well in the role. I’ve read her employee reviews and she relied heavily on her superiors for even the most minor decision-making. To the extent that after three years, while she retained the rank and salary of an SSA, she was effectively demoted into a nonsupervisory role. She’s good at doing her job, but not at giving direction.”

“You’re saying there’s a third person,” Noah said.

“I think that it’s highly likely. I’m not one hundred percent certain—Mallory has the capability of being a leader, he’s just never done it.” Hans steepled his fingers and looked up at the ceiling. “If there’s another player, a leader, then he’s lost someone close to him. One of the victims will connect back to him. I need more details about the murders. Dillon made a copy of Lucy’s files and I’m going to review them and see if there is another connection.”

Dillon commented, “Do you think there are more than three people involved? For crimes like this—in seven different states—it seems like they’d need a network.”

“It’s a small group,” Hans said. “A larger conspiracy wouldn’t have been able to keep such control over their activities for this long. There is no evidence at the crime scene that ties in with any other crime. That tells me they have money to buy and dispose of guns. They use
the gun once, get rid of it, get another. Travel—Mallory could easily be traveling around the country. No ties to the city he kills in, the perfect assassin. I’d imagine there is at least one other involved, but he would be someone Mallory trusts. Mallory is the key—he knows who’s really in charge.”

Sean considered what Hans said, his mind running through all the possible people who could have organized such an elaborate and successful vigilante group. He’d call Duke as he left. Between his brother and J. T. Caruso, they had contacts all over the country.

Noah asked Hans, “Who’s the weak link?”

Hans weighed his thoughts carefully. “Frances Buckley, if interviewed properly, by a male in authority.” He glanced at Kate. “No offense, Kate.”

She waved off his comment. “I understand. She’s old school, considers women equals, men as superiors.”

“Not exactly,” Dillon said. “I think she has contempt for women.”

“Right,” Hans said, nodding.

“I don’t get it,” Sean said. “She’s fond of Lucy, or she’s a damn good liar.”

“You’re right, Sean, about Lucy,” Hans said. “Think of it this way. Fran is sixty. She joined the Bureau when few women did, when the mentality of the Hoover years was still dominant. She fought hard to earn what she had. Many of her contemporaries didn’t, or chose professions where they weren’t constantly butting heads with men. Right there she considers herself superior to most women—she chose the harder path.

“Next consider her chosen field since her retirement. Sexual predators. They prey on women and children. The weak, in her mind. She is protecting the weak. That
puts her on higher ground. Couple that with crossing the line—not only is she
legally
working to protect the weak, she’s doing more. She’s risking her life and her freedom to protect other women and children—not herself.”

“Maybe not so much contempt,” Dillon said, “but a superiority complex. She’s doing what others refuse to do.”

“How do we make her talk?” Noah asked.

“Put Rick Stockton and Dillon in the room,” Hans said. “Rick is the ultimate authority, only a step down from FBI director, and well known as being tough but fair. He plays the role of hard-ass. Dillon commiserates with her, understands her, even commends her. Strokes her ego, lets her know that she’ll be admired and respected for doing the right thing in the face of overwhelming odds. No one understands the pressure she faces, et cetera.”

Dillon asked, “Isn’t this a conflict of interest for me?”

Hans shook his head. “Not with Buckley—and she’ll feel comfortable with you because she knows you, knows Lucy. It’ll work. But if we find Mallory? Stay far away from him.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Dillon said.

Noah said, “I’ll call Stockton and get the warrants moving, then bring in Buckley.” He put up his hand to ward off any more comments. “You say Lucy is suspicious. Do you think Buckley might know we suspect her?”

Hans nodded. “She could be in denial, but it won’t last long—she’ll start destroying evidence.”

“If she hasn’t already,” Noah said. “We have nothing
else—no hard evidence, no forensic evidence, no witnesses.”

“Lucy has a copy of everything she’d—”

Noah interrupted Kate. “A copy is good, but it’s not the original database, and there’s no guarantee that Lucy didn’t manipulate or change the data. I’m sure she didn’t,” he added quickly, “but prove that to the U.S. Attorney’s Office. We need all files, all computers, all backups—and if Lucy’s circumstantial evidence is good enough for a judge, we’ll get it before the end of today.”

Noah had made it clear that Sean should make himself available but stay away from the investigation. Kate pulled Sean aside and said the best thing he could do for them was keep an eye on Lucy until they resolved the WCF situation. Sean agreed, but he had several hours before he needed to pick up Lucy from the Medical Examiner’s Office. He couldn’t sit around doing nothing, so he went home to do his own research.

Because two of the people allegedly involved in the vigilante group were former FBI agents, Noah was playing the investigation close to the vest. He’d briefed Rick Stockton, who was apparently on board, but everything else was off the books. They didn’t want to tip off Mallory and Fran Buckley and give them a chance to disappear or destroy evidence. It would be extremely difficult to get a conviction, let alone an arrest, because they had no physical proof. Sean understood the pressure that Noah was under to get one of them to talk. Lucy’s discovery about the parolees being killed was a big red flag, but there was no hard proof that WCF had anything to do with it. The only physical evidence she had came from Cody Lorenzo, who’d taken one email out of the police report. They needed to prove that someone at WCF had used Lucy’s password, which means they
needed the WCF records before they were destroyed, if they weren’t already.

And connecting it all to Morton? They could connect the dots, but the dots were all over the place and the overall picture was still unclear.

Sean called his brother Duke and filled him in. Even when they had disagreements, like they’d had earlier in this investigation, when it mattered, Duke would do whatever it took to help. He said he’d shake some trees and see what fell.

“You should know,” Duke said, “someone tried to run a background on you.”

Sean wasn’t surprised. “Who?”

“Don’t know, but it came from D.C.”

“The FBI?”

“I’d know if it was the FBI. This was private.”

He wondered who it was. Lorenzo? Fran Buckley? Or was it unrelated to this case?

“I can be there first thing in the morning. Just say the word,” Duke said.

“I have it under control. It’s not a solo operation—the FBI is in with both feet.”

“Be careful.”

Sean hung up and did his own search for Mick Mallory. It didn’t help that “Michael Mallory” was a common name. But Sean knew a few tricks and it didn’t take long to find him.

By searching newspaper archives, he found the article about the bombing that had killed Mallory’s family. Mallory’s name had been left out of it, and the victim—Janice Blair—and her son didn’t share Mallory’s last name, but this was the U.S. and car bombings were extremely rare.

Sean couldn’t find anything viable under Janice Blair or Michael Mallory or any combination of their names. He pulled up Janice Blair’s obituary and noted that Janice was the only child of Margaret-Ann Blair of Herndon. It didn’t take long from there to ascertain that the ninety-two-year-old woman was living in a rest home in Chevy Case, Maryland, but still owned property in Herndon. Sean had a hunch—if the mother-in-law was in a nursing home, who lived in her house?

It was noon. He had time to drive to Herndon and back before he had to pick up Lucy.

Sean went to his gun safe. He always had his nine-millimeter on him, but he liked the .45 best. He added a Taser and extra ammo and grabbed his keys. He was in his car when Dillon Kincaid drove up.

Sean almost sped off and pretended he didn’t see him, but Dillon caught his eye.

He rolled down the passenger window to talk but Dillon reached in, pulled up the lock, and slid into the seat.

“I’m going on an errand,” Sean told him.

“You’re going to see Mallory.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I’m good at my job.”

“What? Psychic?”

“Psychic, psychiatrist, they’re almost identical, aren’t they?”

“So you’ve analyzed me?”

“Am I wrong?”

Sean didn’t answer.

“I’m going with you.”

“No—”

“Why? Because it’s too dangerous and I’m not a cop?” Dillon shook his head. “Guess what? Neither are you.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“No,” Dillon said. “I gather you already found him.”

“Kate’s going to kill me,” Sean muttered as he drove off.

“Probably.”

“Call her and let her know.”

“That we’re going to confront Mallory? She’ll kill
me
.”

“At least send her the address. We don’t know for certain that Mallory is living there, but I don’t want Noah Armstrong breathing down my neck, talking about obstruction of justice or any crap like that. I’m just feeling the situation out, not looking for a confrontation.” Sean didn’t know if that was the truth or not, but it sounded good.

Back at his cubicle in the FBI office, Noah quickly typed up the facts for Rick Stockton to push for a warrant for Frances Buckley and WCF. Stockton thought they had enough, but Noah was skeptical.

He went through the case methodically, glancing at both his and Abigail’s notes. He sent it off just as Sandy, the analyst who was working the case with them, emailed him the list of property owners on Eucalyptus Street in Somerset, and the two cross streets. He glanced at the list, then did a double-take.

Biggler
.

He looked at the map, and the house owned by David and Brenda Biggler was vacant and had been up for sale for the last four months.

It couldn’t be a coincidence that Ralston had been an informant for
Jerry
Biggler.

Since Abigail was on her way back to Somerset, Noah
quickly sent her a message to check out the house and talk to the neighbors about the Bigglers. He then ran a quick background check on the two. He immediately learned that they were not married as he’d first assumed, but brother and sister. The house had been owned by their father, Detective Jerry Biggler, who’d lived there until he died.

Definitely no coincidence.

David Biggler, thirty-four, was a high school English teacher.
A teacher
. Noah pulled up his photograph. He looked like a nice kid, though he was only a year younger than Noah. Biggler had a degree in American literature from John Hopkins University.

Brenda Biggler, twenty-six, was an attractive blond nurse.

A teacher and a nurse. Maybe he was wrong about this.

He looked closer at their history. David Biggler graduated only four years ago. Noah looked farther back. Biggler had enlisted in the Marines when he turned eighteen. Spent eight years active duty. Came home after his dad died and went to college.

Noah reviewed his notes on Mallory. He’d been a Marine as well. Coincidence?

Was Biggler part of this whole thing? Was he with Morton and Ralston—or Mallory and Buckley?

But why on earth would Biggler either help his father’s informant in a criminal enterprise or turn vigilante? Neither he nor his sister had any criminal record. David had been honorably discharged.

Noah considered what Hans Vigo had said about vigilante personalities and wondered if he was missing something in Biggler’s background. Where was the
mother? Divorced when David was fourteen. She went to Arizona and remarried. It didn’t look like there was much communication between the kids and their mother, and it seemed odd that the father was given custody, especially more than two decades ago. He’d have to get an analyst to pull the case file, but there was no way he’d get it today.

It took Noah twenty minutes to find the connection, and he would never have found it if he wasn’t looking for one, or if he hadn’t talked to Hans this morning.

Four months before Mrs. Biggler filed for divorce, thirteen-year-old Nicole Biggler was raped and murdered by a known sex offender, released only three months before after serving four years for attempted rape of a fifteen-year-old.

Hans said that the vigilantes involved likely had lost someone to violence. Losing a sibling, coupled with the mother leaving, could have been the impetus that Biggler needed to turn vigilante. Just because he didn’t have a record didn’t mean he wasn’t a killer. And just because he was a teacher didn’t mean he couldn’t turn violent.

Biggler’s sister is killed, then his mother leaves him and his younger sister to the dad and moves nearly three thousand miles away. Biggler joins the Marines first chance he gets. Returns when dad is dying.