Stalked (20 page)

“And that's it?”

“Maybe; we'll know when we interrogate him.”

“And why would a street thief kill Weber?”

“Could be that he robbed her after she was killed,” DeLucca said.

Sean assessed the cop. “You don't think he killed her.”

He shrugged. “I don't know Bartz, but my buddies in Property Crimes laughed their asses off when I said we were looking at him for murder. Stealing purses, rolling a drunk, smashing a window to grab shopping bags—that's Bartz. Not a stiletto in the heart.”

“But he
could
have grabbed the ring if he found her in the parking lot,” Suzanne said. It was obvious that they had discussed this theory.

DeLucca nodded, but Sean sensed he thought something was fishy about the whole deal.

“Do you know Bob Stokes, a cop down in Newark?” Sean asked.

“Should I?” Suzanne said.

“Weber's first book was dedicated to him. Presidio's phone records show he tried to call Stokes Thursday evening driving from the airport to Quantico. He died of a heart attack.”

“Stokes or Presidio?”

“Both,” Lucy said. “Bob Stokes died last month. Did his name pop up in any of Weber's files?”

Suzanne looked through her notes. “He was in her address book, that's it. Why was Tony trying to call him?”

Lucy said, “He was very upset about the missing McMahon files, and he called me about his own personal file—he wanted to see it as soon as he got back.”

“Did you bring it?”

Lucy hesitated, then said, “It disappeared.”

“You lost it?”

“No,” Lucy said, “it disappeared from his office between the time of his heart attack and when Hans arrived the next day.”

“This is starting to smell like a conspiracy,” DeLucca said. “Maybe your federal colleagues are trying to cover something up.”

Suzanne hit him on the arm, hard. “Shut up, Joe.”

Sean said, “Lucy's the only one who's recently read Tony's file, so we hope if she goes everywhere Tony did, she'll figure out what Tony was thinking.”

“It's a long shot,” Lucy admitted.

“After watching you analyze that psycho nut job back in February, I'll put my money on you,” Suzanne said.

Lucy said, “So essentially, from what you've said and the reports show, the victim was most likely meeting someone at Citi Field, a baseball stadium, in the middle of a baseball game, was killed, and either the killer took the jewelry to make it look like a robbery, or this Bartz guy stole the ring himself after the fact.”

“Bingo.”

“But,” Suzanne said, “what's making me crazy is why did he pawn the ring today, four days after her murder, but only hours after the newspaper came out with the deliberate leak to the press?”

“It's like he wants you to think it's a robbery,” Sean said. “Not very smart.”

“Not smart fits Bartz,” DeLucca said.

“Why meet someone at a baseball stadium in the first place?” Lucy asked.

“Citi Field is very family friendly,” DeLucca said. “We don't get a lot of real trouble out there. It's public; she might have thought it was safe.”

“I take it no security cameras,” Sean said.

“Nothing on the section of the parking lot where she was killed.” DeLucca looked from Lucy to Sean. “Is there anything you know that I should?” he asked. “I don't like surprises, I don't really like P.I.'s doing police work, and I'm not a fan of the feds.” He glanced at Suzanne. “Except blondie here.”

“Screw you, DeLucca.”

Lucy caught the smile between the two. They had been friends—or more—for a long time.

Lucy said, “If we learn anything that will aid in your investigation, you have my word that we'll give it to you. Right, Suzanne?”

“I'm still not one hundred percent sure about this,” DeLucca said. He took out a folder and handed it to Sean. Sean turned it so both he and Lucy could see. DeLucca walked them through the photo evidence.

Nothing jumped out. There was extensive blood at the scene—the victim had been killed in front of her vehicle, then dragged approximately five feet to hide her body between two cars. All the cars in the area had been printed and cleared. The knife had never been recovered. No blood trail.

Lucy asked, “Was there anything about the murder that was never released to the media?”

“Only one thing—there was an inscription on the inside of the ring. We gave pawnshops and a few CIs a photo of the ring and the information that there
was
an inscription, but not what the inscription said. ‘Love is patient, love is kind.' That's how we IDed the ring and Bartz.”

“From Corinthians,” Lucy muttered.

Sean's phone vibrated. He ignored the text message but hoped it was info he was waiting for. He turned to Suzanne. “What's going on with the library archives? Are there computer logs?”

“Yes and no,” Suzanne said. “Everyone signs in. Borrowed material is logged in the computer, but if they're simply looking, they have free run of the place.”

“So either the documents are still there—hidden or misplaced—or someone with knowledge of the system took them.”

“It's a large box.”

Sean leaned forward. “I'll bet I can find a half-dozen ways to grab anything I want from the library and disappear with it.”

“Not everyone is you, Rogan,” Suzanne said.

“But,” he continued as if she hadn't spoken, “if I wanted the information to disappear, I'd cloak it. Put it in a different box. Do you know the last person who pulled the box?”

“That's one of the problems,” Suzanne said. “The box has been there for three years. No one has ever checked it out. And don't even think about asking for a list of everyone who has checked out boxes from the archives—you're talking about thousands of people.”

Lucy said, “If someone at Quantico stole Tony's file from his office, they may have also taken the files from the archives.”

Sean glanced at her. “You're brilliant. At my college library, I had to have a card to access much of the building, and definitely to view most of the research material.”

Suzanne nodded. “I see what you're thinking. If there's anyone with access to Quantico who also has a Columbia library card. It's a place to start.”

“Still a long shot, but not quite as long,” Sean said.

Lucy frowned. “It's easy to check the travel of federal staff, and anyone at Quantico would know that.”

“We don't know when the box was removed from the library,” Suzanne said. “It could have been months or years ago.”

“And,” Sean said, “it might be someone who had a friend who was a student, or a visitor who found a flaw in the security system.”

Suzanne made a note. “Dr. Vigo asked for a report tonight. I'll let him know your theory and let him run interference with Quantico. Thanks.”

They exchanged contact information and parted ways.

“Back to the hotel?” Lucy asked.

Sean glanced at his watch. “Let's go meet your brother for dinner.”

“In Newark?”

“At the hotel. Patrick is good. He got exactly what we needed, took the train into the city.” Sean hailed a taxi. “We make a great team. And there's nothing I'd like more than to have you working for RCK. You're name's already on the door.”

Sean opened the taxi door and Lucy slid in first.

“Maybe I should,” she said quietly.

He gave the driver the name of their hotel, then leaned over and kissed Lucy lightly. “I know you should. But on your terms, Luce. Because you want to, not because you think it's your only option.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

Hans stopped by Kate Donovan's house Saturday on his way home.

“I've left you two messages,” Kate snapped when she opened the door.

“May I come in?”

She opened the door wider and he stepped in. “I spent all afternoon in a meeting with Chief O'Neal, then went to visit Shannon Presidio.”

Kate softened a bit. She would never be a soft woman. But before meeting Dillon Kincaid she was on the fast track to an early death through recklessness. Now she was everything Hans had always believed she could be: smart, focused, dedicated. She still had a reckless streak, but it was tempered by experience.

“Is Dillon here?”

“Sleeping.”

It was just past nine. “This early?”

“He has to be up at three to take a military transport to talk to one of those damn serial killers you want him to profile. It's not as easy on him as you think it is.”

“I never thought it was easy.”

“I'm not sleeping.” Dillon came downstairs in sweatpants and a T-shirt. He shook Hans's hand. “What brings you here?”

Hans glanced at Kate. She scowled and said to Dillon, “I didn't want to worry you.”

Dillon put his arm around her and steered her toward the family room.

“Did you come to see Kate or me?”

“Both,” Hans said.

“Don't drag Dillon into this,” Kate said.

They sat at the kitchen table where Hans had often found himself enjoying a meal with the Kincaids and nearly as often talking to Dillon about work. Though Dillon was a civilian consultant, he spent the bulk of his time on FBI cases. He'd been offered a permanent position when he first moved to D.C. but had declined.

“Hans.” Dillon didn't have to say anything else. He took Kate's hand but focused on Hans.

“Did Lucy tell you?”

“That she went to New York?” Kate snapped. “I'm furious with her. I told her to keep her head low and focus on her studies. I suppose I should blame Sean, but Lucy is responsible for her own actions.”

“That's not what I was talking about,” Hans said. “I asked Sean to go to New York. I assumed Lucy would join him.”

Dillon eyed him closely. “What happened?”

“Six months ago, I knew the second hiring panel was going to reject Lucy's application. A friend told me confidentially that Fran Buckley still had a lot of friends who thought either she was innocent or she shouldn't be in prison even if she was guilty. I went to Stockton and told him I wanted to overrule their decision.”

“That's not done,” Kate said.

Hans smiled sadly. “Not often, but it wasn't the first time. Stockton agreed. We sealed it, but the three panelists all knew. They were told it was confidential and no one was to be told. But now Lucy knows.”

“Shit,” Kate said.

“I want to know who told her.”

“I didn't know,” Kate said. “Dillon?”

He didn't say anything.

“You
knew
?”

“Not for a fact. I suspected.” He caught Hans's eye. “Why would someone tell her?”

“To force her to quit. Which of course she did. I simply didn't accept it. She gave me her Quantico ID. I left it at the security desk and told them she dropped it in Tony's office. But I don't know if she's going to come back.”

“Is that why she went to New York?”

“Lucy went with Sean. I had asked him to retrace Tony's steps and try to figure out what he was thinking. I couldn't ask Lucy to go officially, but she's the only one who read Tony's missing file. With her there, she might notice something.”

“What missing file?” Kate asked.

“There's a file missing from Tony's office that may have relevance in the Rosemary Weber homicide.”

“Is Lucy in danger?” Dillon asked.

“She's well aware that she's the only one, outside of Tony, who knows what is in the missing file.”

Kate stared at him. “The autopsy showed Tony died of a heart attack.”

“It did. But nonetheless, Stockton is discreetly requesting a more detailed probe. I already had the lab process his office on the q.t.”

“Tony had heart trouble, among other things,” Kate said. “You know that, Hans. And you said he'd been drinking right before he died.”

Hans knew all too well that Tony had problems he buried deeply. And Hans had been inclined to believe Tony was as responsible for his death as his weak heart.

“Though Tony may have been battling depression again, and his BAC was well above the legal limit, but I don't think he was suicidal. He was too focused on locating Peter McMahon and the missing file to want to kill himself without answers. And I found something on his computer that's of interest.”

Dillon leaned forward. “Why would you even think Tony might have killed himself?”

“It wouldn't be the first time he tried.” Hans glanced at Kate, then said, “When we worked the Rachel McMahon kidnapping, Tony took the events personally. He knew from the beginning that the parents were keeping something back, and he felt helpless.”

“We all feel that way sometimes,” Kate said.

“After her body was found, Tony got completely wasted. He came to my apartment and started talking about how nothing we do matters if we can't save the innocents. We argued, and he left, disappeared for two days. When Tony left for New York the other day, he canceled all his appointments. I thought he'd gone on a bender.”

“Did he?” Kate asked.

“Maybe—he had been drinking—and after Lucy told me he was digging into the McMahon file again and wanting to find Peter, the victim's brother, I thought he was obsessed. But when we learned the files were missing in New York, and the file in his office, I think he really was on to something. Then I found a letter of resignation on his computer, dated a month ago, but I learned from Chief O'Neal that he turned in something different. I found the original on his computer.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. He slid it across the table. Dillon and Kate read it together.

Kate said, “He was resigning?”