Targeted (Callahan & McLane Book 4) (3 page)

“It depends on the two of them,” Nora added. “Every relationship is unique because the people are unique.”

Mason agreed. “He turned her down, but I think he was having second thoughts and worried he’d answered without thinking it through. He’s had some other relationships, but they didn’t last. He wanted to know—” He stopped speaking, suddenly embarrassed.

“Know what?” Hawes asked when Mason didn’t continue.

“He wanted to know how Ava and I were making it work. He seemed to think we’d found some secret.” He gave a half shrug. “I told him we talk about everything and always keep the communication open.” He shifted in his seat. He’d gone from feeling like a target to talking about his most personal relationship. He didn’t talk to strangers about this sort of stuff. Hell, Ray was his closest friend and he only got to see the surface.

Ava had opened Mason’s eyes. He’d believed he had a solid if slightly boring life, and he was good with that. But during a kidnapping case, she’d been immersed in his life and job. She’d infused oxygen into his simple existence. Once their case was over, he’d discovered he didn’t want to go back to his life without her.

They’d had their ups and downs over the past year, but they were definitely in an up part of the cycle at the moment. Wedding plans were being discussed, her twin Jayne was in a good facility, and their damned kitchen remodel had finished only five weeks over schedule.

“Well, Detective Callahan, you’ve managed to surprise me. I didn’t realize men had late-night heart-to-heart talks about relationships.” She grinned.

“I thought you knew Ray Lusco.”

Her eyes lit up. “You’ve got me there. Ray is definitely different. His wife is a good friend.”

Mason had noticed she didn’t wear a wedding ring. A lot of married cops didn’t. They didn’t want the scum they encountered to have any insight about their personal lives. He didn’t ask if she was married; it was none of his business.

“You lied to the other guys because you didn’t want to share what Denny had told you in confidence.”

“I omitted one of our topics. We did discuss fish and his cabin.”

“Did you know much about his ex?”

“No. I’ve heard about Cindy a bit here and there. Denny didn’t bitch about her the way some guys do about their exes.” He paused, realizing how little he knew of Cindy’s temperament. Was she capable of murder? “He didn’t tell me how she reacted when he refused to give their relationship another shot. Has someone contacted her?”

“Not yet. I’ll go notify her in person.” She made a note on her pad. “Do you know of any bad blood between Denny and his coworkers? I haven’t been there long enough to hear any gossip.”

Do you think any of the men from the cabin could have done this?

Mason had already picked apart this question. He’d done it first thing after finding Denny and again as Dr. Ruiz did his quick exam. “Between the four of us that are here, no. Absolutely not.”

“And back at the office?”

“He’s pissed off a few people over the years. Who wouldn’t in his position? Enough for one of them to drive to the coast and slit his throat? No.”

“Not that you’re aware of.”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Mason agreed. Everyone hid their true feelings. Especially cops. “I could be completely in the dark about a situation.”

“Does the Pinhead mask mean anything to you? Was Denny a fan? Had you previously seen the mask in the cabin?”

“I’m stumped about the mask,” answered Mason. “If Denny was a horror fan, I didn’t know about it. And I definitely didn’t see anything like that in the cabin.” He strongly suspected the killer had brought it with him.

“Who knew the five of you were coming up here? Did anyone back at the office know? I knew because Denny had asked me to cover some of the schedule.”

“Everyone knew. Getting the schedule arranged was a bitch.”

She made a notation and then met his gaze, giving a small smile that signaled the end of the interview. “Thank you, Detective. Even though the circumstances suck, it was nice to talk to you more in depth than we have back at the office. And I’ll say the standard line about letting me know if anything else occurs to you.”

“You couldn’t stop me.”

Her phone rang and she glanced at it. Mason couldn’t help himself and noticed D
UNCAN
FBI pop up on the screen.

Ava’s ASAC Ben Duncan?

Mason decided to stay in the vehicle a few more minutes.

4

A
va tapped her foot in the elevator. She’d arrived at the Portland FBI office near the airport with a full tank of gas and three texts from ASAC Duncan stating he needed to see her in his office the minute she arrived. Her instinct told her the FBI had finally been brought into the murder at the coast, but what could have changed within an hour?

She stepped off the elevator and dashed down the hall to Ben’s office, not even stopping at her desk. His door was open. Inside, Special Agent Zander Wells and a female agent she faintly recognized were looking over Ben’s shoulder at his computer screen. They straightened as she entered and she felt as if she’d stepped into a cloud of tension.

“What happened? Is it Mason?” she blurted.

“No, no!” Zander held up his hands. “Nothing like that. Relax.”

Ben and the other agent echoed Zander’s words. She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “There’s enough tension in here to make even my sister wonder what’s wrong.” The joke was weak, and sympathy flashed in Zander’s gaze. He knew Jayne’s narcissistic personality.

“Do you know Special Agent Mercy Kilpatrick?” Ben Duncan asked. “She’s from Domestic Terrorism.”

Ava shook the agent’s hand, realizing she’d seen her briefly in the hallways. “What’s happened?” she repeated. Introductions were nice, but she needed to know why Ben had texted her three times.

“Ben was giving me a heads-up on the OSP captain’s death at the coast when a little more information came in.” Zander exchanged a look with Ben. “The victim was found with a Pinhead mask over his face.”

Ava nodded, processing the odd detail. Images of a pale movie character with pins arranged in a grid across his face floated through her mind. “That’s a new one.”

“When I heard that I immediately thought of Vance Weldon,” continued Zander.

“Our agent who committed suicide last week?” Ava asked. “I didn’t know him. I only knew the name.”

Zander looked grim. “He was found hanging in his garage wearing a Freddy Krueger mask. I already had Ben reach out to the OSP detective at the coast scene and let them know we might have a related case.”

Ava stared at him for a long moment before looking to Ben and Mercy. She’d known the office had been shaken up about the man’s suicide, but she hadn’t heard details. A horror mask seemed like a detail that would have rocketed up the gossip chain. A dozen questions shot through her brain.

“You’re familiar with Freddy Krueger?” Ben asked.

“From
A Nightmare on Elm Street
. He kills kids in their dreams.” She paused. “But Vance was a suicide, right?” she slowly asked.

The three agents exchanged a grim look. “We’re taking another look,” said Ben.

Ava looked at Agent Kilpatrick. “I assume you know more about Vance’s . . . suicide?”

“Correct,” the domestic terrorism agent stated. “Special Agent Weldon was found hanging from the rafters of his garage last Monday by his wife,” she said in an even voice. “The Vancouver Police Department got the call, and they handled the investigation, but I was assigned by our agency to work with the police and oversee our interests.”

Ava nodded. She’d heard Vance Weldon worked in Domestic Terrorism. Besides the usual concerns for the agent’s family’s needs, this sort of incident would require interaction from the agency to rule out any foul play that might have been related to his job, and to make certain any sensitive intelligence was properly secured.

“What did you conclude?” Ava asked. She took a closer look at Mercy Kilpatrick. She had the long dark curls of a Kardashian but the intense presence of a highly experienced agent. Intelligence radiated from her gaze, and Ava wanted to know her better.

Mercy furrowed her brow. “I never saw or read anything in the reports to make me doubt it was a suicide. Even his wife said he’d been struggling with depression.”

“Kids?”

“None.”

“What about the horror mask? Surely that stood out in the case as something that shouldn’t have been there.”

Mercy shook her head. “Special Agent Weldon was a collector. He had a fascination with horror movies, especially Freddy Krueger. He actually had a little side business going where he sold Freddy Krueger gloves online.”

“Gloves? Like the glove he wears in the movies with all the blades?” Ava asked. It was the character’s primary weapon.

“Yes. His wife showed them to me. He makes them and they look straight from a movie set. Not sharp, though,” she added quickly. “His wife couldn’t say for certain that the mask was his, but she said it would be the type of thing he owned. He had a lot of horror movie memorabilia.”

“Is there a Pinhead mask missing?” Ava asked.

“We’re trying to find out,” Ben said. “I’ve left a message for the wife to call me back.”

“There’s no way the captain’s death at the coast could be a suicide,” said Zander. “His neck was deeply slashed and there’s no knife left behind. I’ve heard of people cutting their own necks, but hiding the weapon in time? Can’t happen. And the only blood found was right with the body.”

Ava nodded. Hiding the knife after cutting one’s own neck would leave a large blood trail. From what she was hearing, everything indicated murder for the captain. “But two horror character masks on two dead law enforcement officers within a week is too big to ignore,” she said flatly. “We need to be involved and take a closer look at our agent’s death. If it wasn’t suicide, it could be related to one of his terrorism cases.”

“Agreed,” said Ben. “I’m assigning it to you and Zander, but I want you to head to the coast death scene first because it’s fresh. Do what you need to there, and then start looking into the Weldon case. Agent Kilpatrick will get you everything you need.” He held up a hand as Ava opened her mouth. “I’m operating on the assumption Mason will soon be officially cleared of any involvement in his boss’s death. If I recall, the two of you were in San Francisco at the beginning of last week, correct?”

Ava nodded.

“Then he wasn’t involved in our agent’s death. Right now that’s good enough for me.”

His logic was a bit weak, but Ava knew he didn’t have anyone else to assign. She wasn’t about to argue with him; she wanted the case.

She looked at Zander. “Ready for a trip to the coast?”

“Special Agent Vance Weldon was discovered hanging in his garage at six thirty
A.M.
by his wife last Monday morning,” Zander summarized from the file on his lap. He’d been making calls and reading case details to Ava as she drove toward the ocean. “A stool in the garage had been kicked over and his hands weren’t bound. His wife Sharon briefly tried to get him down, but realized he’d been dead for several hours and called 911.”

“That’s horrible,” Ava murmured, envisioning herself trying to wrestle Mason down from the rafters and then realizing he was cold with death. “First on the scene was patrol from Vancouver?”

“Yes,” said Zander. “This report says she begged them to cut him down, and the first two cops at the scene did it.”

“Destroying evidence.”

“Being human,” countered Zander. “I’m not sure what determines if they have to try to resuscitate. I imagine it’s hard to come across a hanging and make yourself leave the body up there, wondering if getting him down could have saved him.”

Ava reluctantly agreed. It was easy to say from the comfort of a distance what the officers should have done; it was a completely different experience to be standing in their shoes next to a hysterical wife.

“What else does it say about the scene?”

“He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. His wife said it’d been the clothing he’d worn the day before.”

“So he never made it to bed. She didn’t notice until the next morning?”

“His wife said it wasn’t unusual for her to go to bed before him.” He studied his laptop screen. “The rope was turned in as evidence, but since it was ruled a suicide no testing was done. The wife couldn’t say if the rope came from their house or not.”

“Who did the autopsy?”

“Seth Rutledge.”

“As the head medical examiner in the state, he runs a tight ship. I have a hard time believing he got one wrong,” Ava said.

“We don’t know he did,” said Zander pointedly.

Ava pressed her lips together as she kept her focus on the highway. Zander was right. She was making assumptions.
Horror masks. Law enforcement.
How could one be suicide and one be murder?

Do they both have to be one or the other?

“It’s bugging me, too,” Zander said. She shot him a smile.

Zander Wells had developed into a good friend. Formerly with Cybercrimes, he’d managed to extend his temporary loan to the Violent Crimes Unit into a long stay. He’d told Ava that as much as he liked tapping on his keyboard all day, he liked the diversity of Violent Crimes better. Mason claimed the agent had wanted more than friendship from Ava, but she didn’t quite believe him. Zander had never spoken of his feelings to her, but she’d always felt a vibe of admiration from him. She liked to believe it was a result of her work ethic. Not romantic interest.

Oddly, her close work relationship with Zander didn’t bother Mason. If anyone was to be the jealous type, her slightly redneck, old-fashioned-values cowboy fiancé would be the man. But he liked Zander and wasn’t threatened by his presence. Ava had eyes for no one but Mason.

I should set Zander up with Cheryl.
Her neighbor was also her wedding planner. She could see the two of them as a good match.

Hmmmm.

“We could be on a wild goose chase,” said Ava, putting matchmaking out of her head. “The masks could be pure coincidence. You ran a VICAP search with horror masks as one of the criteria?”

“I ran several using a blend of different key words. I didn’t find any other crimes with horror masks and law enforcement in common.”

“What about without the law enforcement terms?”

“Some oddball things turn up, but nothing that feels right.”

“What’s Weldon’s history with depression? Has he tried to commit suicide before?” Ava asked.

“He has a few years of counseling and medication. His wife thought it was well under control. She says he had a pill swallowing incident in his late teens when he was away at college.”

“He did?” Ava asked sharply, surprised he’d made it through the FBI’s rigorous testing and background checks.

“She says he never told anyone, didn’t go to the hospital, and the police weren’t notified, so there’s no record.”

“It’s just her word.”

“His mother verified his wife’s story. She knew about the pills and says her son admitted it to her about a year after it happened. He’d appeared to have turned his life and mental state around, so she chalked it up to a bad month.”

“A bad month,” Ava repeated, the words souring in her mouth. If only the rest of the world had her experience of living with someone with serious mental illness. She understood her twin was an extreme case, but it helped her see people living with lesser conditions in an understanding light.

“I know,” said Zander. “But we don’t know how Weldon behaved when he lived with her. From the outside he could have appeared symptom-free and never let her know what was going on. They might have had very normal lives.”

She felt him studying her and stared straight over her steering wheel.

“How’s Jayne?” he asked.

“She’s good.”

“How’s she
really
doing?”

She glanced over at him. Nothing but concern showed on his face. She forced her apprehension at her sister’s name to fade away. “I get an email from her once a week and I always write back.”

“As you should.”

“She’s watched very closely. We were lucky to get her into such a good facility. I communicate regularly with her treatment coordinator, and she’s optimistic for Jayne’s health. Jayne even found a shop that was willing to show some of her paintings.”

“Her watercolors? She had enough to show?”

Ava was pleased that Zander remembered Jayne’s passion. They’d had a lot of discussions about her twin. “She made some new ones recently. I was impressed enough to buy one and another shopper bought one while I was there.”

“Her art doesn’t suck,” stated Zander.

Ava grinned. “No, not at all.”

“What’s her doctors’ plan for her future?”

She was silent for a long moment. “To slowly move her into independence. Keep her on medication and therapy schedules.” It was nothing new to Ava. She’d dealt with the same plan for her twin a dozen times. Would it work this time?

“And your plan for you?” he asked softly.

“Keep my distance. Keep my eyes on my own life.”

“Her suicide attempt nearly destroyed you.”

Ava said nothing. Zander had witnessed part of her emotional collapse from the strain of Jayne’s death wish. “Can we not talk about it right now?” she whispered.

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I just worry—” He stopped. She glanced at him, but his focus was directed out his window.

“I appreciate your concern. I really do,” Ava said. “It’s still very fresh.” She felt horrible for shutting down the conversation, but her twin was difficult territory, and she knew Zander understood. He had his own demons he didn’t like to talk about. She knew he’d been married and his wife had passed, but he’d never opened up about it.