Likely Suspects (10 page)

I left the building and headed back to my car.
The police tape was still out front, but there were only a couple of officers left. By Monday, things would appear to be completely back to normal. I went to my car feeling paranoid and decided to take a circuitous route to Martin’s. It never hurt to be cautious.

An hour and a half later
, I pulled up to the compound and entered through the garage.  As I went up the stairs, I resisted the urge to call out ‘honey, I’m home.’ “I’m back,” I announced loudly to make my presence known in case Martin decided to be a bit trigger-happy and shoot any and all intruders. There was no response, so I put my belongings on the coffee table and headed up the stairs. Maybe he didn’t hear me.

“Martin?” I tried again.
Still no response. I was beginning to worry and stopped in my room and glanced around. Nothing looked like it had been touched. I took out my back-up handgun and continued to the fourth floor, knocking on his bedroom door.

“Ma
rtin?” I heard a muffled response, so I opened the door slowly with my left hand, my gun held in my right. He was lying in bed on top of the covers, apparently trying to sleep off the rest of the hangover. At the sound of the door, he opened his eyes. The nine millimeter I left him was on the bedside table. “Still alive in here?” I hid my weapon against my thigh, glad he had taken my suggestion seriously; at least he listened some of the time.

“For the moment.
” An icepack was pressed against his forehead. “Did you get what you needed?”

“
For now.” I shut the door. 

I set up shop
in the living room. I was seated on the couch, avoiding the scotch-stained sofa cushion and watching the surveillance feed on Martin’s big screen television. The employee manifest was opened, and I kept hitting pause every time someone exited the lobby. It was slow going, matching names with faces, and I desperately missed the facial-recognition software the OIO used. I was making a list of employees who had exited the building from ten thirty until the time of the explosion.

So far
, there were fifteen people who left the building from ten thirty to eleven a.m. However, the same fifteen people returned to the building within a fifteen to thirty minute time span. I got up and retrieved Det. O’Connell’s business card and dialed his number, hoping to discover what time the hotdog vendor parked in front of the MT building.

“O’Connell
,” he responded after the third ring.

“Hi, this is
Alexis Parker. I work for James Martin,” I identified myself.

“Yes,
Ms. Parker. Remember any additional details you wanted to share?” He sounded suspicious on the phone. He probably realized I was only calling to get information from him.

“Just wondering how the in
vestigation is going, Detective.”

“Ok
ay.” There was an awkward silence. “What do you need?”

“Any idea what time the
hotdog vendor set up shop outside the MT building?”

“Hang on,” I h
eard some papers being shuffled around, “10:45, why?”

“Just needed a good starting place,” I replied, somewhat unhelpfully.

“Yeah, well, you come up with some persons of interest, you pass it along.”

“
Absolutely, Detective.” I was debating if I should ask about the bomb materials but decided to wait and see if Mark had gotten any news yet. After all, he would have the resources to track down the bomb maker. “Maybe you could do the same.”

“Have a good day, Ms. Parker.
”

At least
my arbitrary starting point wasn’t quite so arbitrary after all. I continued through the rest of the footage until the explosion occurred. I had a list of sixty-one employees in total who left the building between ten thirty and noon. Of those sixty-one employees, forty-three returned within fifteen to thirty minutes. I circled the remaining eighteen names on the list.

I was just pulling out the employee attendance sheet to see who was scheduled to leave early or work a half day when I heard footsteps behind me.

“Feeling better?” I asked, not bothering to turn around.

“Yeah.
” Martin sat down on the couch. “What are you watching?” He stared at the paused, grainy, black and white surveillance footage. I turned to see if he was attempting to make a joke or if he really was clueless.

“Surveillance from the lobby.”
He was looking at the list I made.

“You sure do like to make lists, don’t you?” he criticized.

“It helps.”
I didn’t know why I did it. It was just part of my process since I didn’t necessarily trust myself to remember things that might seem innocuous but turn out to be important.

“What do the circles mean?”
He seemed interested, so I explained what I was doing. “Are these the timestamps?” He pointed to the times written next to the names.

“Yeah.”

“I think you can cross these off.” He took my pen and marked off six more names. “Lunch is thirty minutes. They left too close to the explosion to have set a bomb.” I tended to agree with his rationale. Maybe he was more than just a snazzy suit.  

“So
, out of the twelve suspects on the list, recognize anyone as potentially dangerous? Holding a grudge for something? Smart enough to create a bomb?” I was hoping he could point us in the right direction. He reread the names.

“I don’
t know everyone, but really, Suzanne Griffin?” He gave me a look. “Come on, don’t you think you can mark her off as a suspect?” I had been so consumed with identifying people that I hadn’t consciously realized her name was on the list, but I was getting a bad feeling.

“Have you seen her since th
e explosion?”

Marti
n rubbed his hand down his face, thinking. “No. I don’t think so.” He was trying to recall the events of Thursday and Friday.

“I didn’t either.”
I remembered sitting in his office and wondering where she was. Reaching for my phone, I dialed O’Connell.

“O’Connell,” he answered
again.

“It’s Parker.
” I was done with the pleasantries. “There’s a Suzanne Griffin who works at Martin Tech. We haven’t seen her since the explosion Thursday.”

“Afraid something ha
ppened to her? Or thinking she’s involved?” I thought back to the strange conversation Griffin and I had on my second day at work.

“I don’t
know. See what you can dig up, let us know.” I hung up.

“C’mon,” Martin was being dismissive, “she’s worked at the company for years.
She’s getting close to collecting her pension. Why would she have done this?” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re still upset about the conversation she had with you.”

“You are being ridiculous and letting
your
personal feelings get in the way,” I retorted. “Seriously though, we need to know where she is. I’m not saying she did this, but she never came back either. Didn’t call or anything.” I was flipping through the absentees. “Does that seem like the reliable woman you know?”

“N
o. Do you think she’s hurt?” I didn’t have an answer for him. I opened the employee manifest and found her phone number and address. Picking up my phone, I dialed the number, but there was no answer.

“I’m going to c
all Mark, and we’re going to check out her place. You are going to stay here. If O’Connell calls, find out what he knows.” I grabbed my keys while I dialed Mark’s number. I put on my shoulder holster, snapped my handgun into the slot, and put a jacket on over it. “Stay put.” Martin was standing up, seemingly ready to go with me.

“But
…,” he began to protest.

“It’s probably nothing.
” I was downplaying my bad feeling. “I’ll be back soon, and I’m taking Mark with me. Remember you’re the body I was hired to guard. Don’t make my job more difficult,” I tried to joke, and he resigned himself to being under house arrest and sat back down on the couch. I went down the stairs to retrieve my car as my phone finally connected with Mark’s. “Where are you?” I asked Mark.

“I j
ust got home. What’s going on?” he sounded tired.

I
shut the car door before replying, afraid Martin might overhear. “I’m not really sure, but I might need some back-up. Griffin, the secretary, just got bumped to number one on my suspect list. No one’s seen her since the explosion. I’ll pick you up on the way.”

“Ok
ay. Did you call it in to the police?” he asked as I drove away from Martin’s compound and onto the main road.

“I called O’Connell, but who knows how long it’s going t
o take him to check things out. I got a bad feeling about this.”

“Woman’s intuition?”

“Years of training.” I could hear Mark checking to make sure his service pistol was loaded.

“That’s what I was afraid of.”
We ended the call, and within fifteen minutes, I was honking my horn outside his house. He got into my car, and off we went.

T
he GPS got us to Griffin’s address in twenty minutes, and I parked on the street. The neighborhood seemed quiet. Mark and I walked up to the front door. It appeared no one was home. He rang the doorbell, and we waited. I was trying to peer into the front window, but the blinds were closed.

“Try it again,
” I insisted, stepping away from the porch and going toward the driveway. There were no cars parked there, but that didn’t mean Griffin hadn’t parked in the garage.

“Nothing,” Mark said.
He knocked a couple of times. “Mrs. Griffin?” he called. He turned to me and shook his head.

“I’m
going to check around back.” I walked around the house. Everything seemed normal. I reached the back door and tried to turn the knob. It was locked. The back windows were all closed, and there were no signs of anything being amiss. I returned to the front of the house.

“Anything?”
he asked, and I shook my head. We started walking slowly back to the car.

“Want to do some canvassing
since we came all the way here?” I suggested. Mark seemed annoyed but played along anyway. I took the house to the right; he took the left. We knocked on a few doors, asking if anyone had seen Mrs. Griffin since she didn’t show up to work. The neighbors were less than helpful. No one remembered when they had seen her last. Mark and I were getting ready to leave when I saw some flashing red and blue lights.

“Did you call in the cavalry?
” I asked Mark. We turned and waited while O’Connell and another detective pulled up behind me and shut the lights.

“Ms. Parker, funny running into you
here,” O’Connell stated. “You too, Agent Jablonsky.”

“Just in the neighborhood,” I repl
ied. “What brings you down here?” O’Connell gave me a no-nonsense look.

“Checking out a le
ad, not to mention dispatch got a call about some suspicious looking people snooping around their neighbor’s house.”

“Hmm.
I don’t remember seeing anyone suspicious. Did you, Mark?” Mark glared at me.

“Need I remind you
this is our investigation?” O’Connell threatened.

“Just checkin
g on an employee,” I responded. “Y’know, part of my job description at Martin Tech.” O’Connell shook his head slowly.

“Find anything?” he asked.
I guess he decided if you can’t beat them, join them.

“No one’s home
, and no one’s seen anything. Well, except for some suspicious people walking around for the last twenty minutes, apparently.” I couldn’t help but be sarcastic. “I showed you mine. Want to show me yours?”

“
We’ve got a plane ticket under the name Suzanne Griffin. She was supposed to fly out today, one-way to Nova Scotia, but she never checked in at the airport.”

The
detective with O’Connell knocked on Griffin’s door. “This is the police, ma’am. Please open up.” After a few moments, he turned to the three of us. “No response.”

“
Maybe we heard some screaming for help coming from inside,” Mark suggested. “It might be part of your job to enter, just to check things out.” O’Connell seemed to consider this for a moment.

“No.
We’re doing things right. I’m not screwing up an investigation that will end up being dismissed in court for improper procedure.” Well, at least now, I had my answer about what kind of guy O’Connell was. “You got anything else which might make getting a warrant easier?”

“All I kn
ow is she is always at work, and she left before the explosion and hasn’t been back since. Not on Thursday and not on Friday. Martin’s worried. He says it’s not like her.” I was telling the truth. 

“Can you get me access to her
work office?” O’Connell asked. I agreed and called Martin.

“Call the office.
Tell them Detective O’Connell needs to get in to check out Griffin’s office,” I instructed Martin as Mark and I followed the police car back to the MT building. “I’m so glad I don’t have to go to the office anymore,” I said ironically as we parked and got out of the car, and Mark gave me an odd look. “I’ve already been here once today.” My ID and Martin’s were at home, but luckily, Todd picked up an extra shift and was still working security.

“Ms. Parker,” he greeted
.

“Hey
, Todd, you know why we’re here.”

He
came around the desk. “I’ll take you to her office.” He kindly unlocked the door. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything else.” I thanked him, and the two cops entered Griffin’s office.

“Stay outside.
We don’t need you potentially contaminating anything.” O’Connell spoke as if I were incompetent. I sighed but stood in the hallway, trying to peer inside.

“Did you leav
e your door open?” Mark inquired, getting my attention.

“No, why?”
I turned to see my office door was cracked open. Mark pushed it open a bit more with his foot. It was obvious someone had been inside. Everything was slightly askew. The papers on the desk were scattered everywhere, and the trashcan was dumped in the floor. I was about to step inside when Mark grabbed my arm.

“O’Connell,” he called.
The detective poked his head out of Griffin’s office. “We might have a problem.” O’Connell approached us, not understanding what was going on until he saw the mess inside.