What Lies Behind (28 page)

Chapter 50

Kruger’s condo

JASON KRUGER LIVED
on Connecticut Avenue, a few blocks northwest of the National Zoo. This was an area for professionals; there was a Metro stop almost across the street from his tan brick building, and multiple bars and restaurants spilling late-night light onto the sidewalks. Despite it being nearly two in the morning, there were plenty of people wandering around. It was last call, and the bars were beginning to empty.

Kruger’s building was guarded by a glass door requiring a keycard. There were no cops around. Fletcher’s instincts were right; they’d beaten them to the scene. Sam was about to pick up the phone and ask the condo company to buzz them in when Xander knocked the butt of his SIG hard against the plastic reader, and they heard a familiar buzz. The door was briefly unlocked.

“Where’d you learn that trick?” she asked, scooting inside.

“Denver, actually. Guy out there showed me. It doesn’t work all the time, but there’s a certain frequency that gets interrupted in some of them, and we just got lucky.”

“My little juvenile delinquent.”

He huffed out a laugh. The lobby was dark. They made their way toward the back, found the elevators. Inside, Xander brushed his lips across her forehead. “You hanging in there? It’s been a crazy day.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. But I’m telling you, Xander, the second this case is over, we are moving. I’m sick of my house being used as a halfway station for crime scenes.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She reached for the Glock at her hip, so aware of its strange weight. Hefted the cold, hard metal in her hand. Xander was watching her. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, clearly concerned.

Sam didn’t like guns. She didn’t like shooting them, cleaning them, having them around day in and day out. And right now, she abhorred the fact that she held one in her hand. But she wasn’t about to step into Kruger’s apartment without it.

She gave him a half smile. “Yes, I do.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to the third floor. They crept down the hall, Xander leading the way, the M4 ready in his hands. The lighting was eerie, on some sort of dimmer, so the walls shone orange. The carpet cushioned their steps, and they made it to apartment 303 without a problem.

Xander shouldered his M4 and pulled a small brown suede case out of his back pocket. His lock picks. Sam the FBI consultant looked the other way. Moments later, the lock disengaged, and Xander slipped inside. She followed, the gun warming in her hand.

Kruger’s home was dark, the milky glow of the streetlamps on Connecticut their only source of light. The furniture was minimalist, modern, black leather with white accents. The walls were covered in tribal masks and wooden sticks. A large black-and-white painting of the Buddha took up nearly the entire living room wall.

It did not look like the home of a terrorist.

Sam put on a pair of purple nitrile gloves. Xander had already pulled on his thin supple leather shooting gloves. At least they wouldn’t contaminate anything.

Xander made a motion with his right hand, which Sam knew meant spread out. He started toward the bedroom. She went directly to the refrigerator. If they were going to get lucky, it might start here.

She swung open the stainless doors. A gust of cool air enveloped her. Aside from a knocked-over bottle of ketchup, some hard cheese and bologna, a four-pack of Innis & Gunn, the fridge was empty.

A hardworking man like Jason Kruger would certainly spend little time at home cooking. Worse, there was no sign of the vaccines.

She felt her earlier hope dissipate. Fletcher had been so sure there was something here. She’d bought into it, feeling the same way. She thought there would be some sort of resolution, something to put a period on this awful day. But there was nothing visible. Their only hope was the computer.

She did a perfunctory search of the rest of the kitchen and dining room, pushing on panels and hoping for the same kind of surprises they’d found in Cattafi’s apartment. Nothing.

The unit was small, only a single bedroom and bath off the living room. Xander rounded back into the living room, shaking his head. His voice was low.

“You need to come see this.”

She followed him into the bedroom. The closet door was ajar. The left half was filled with two rows of hanging clothes, pants and suit coats and shirts, with a double rack for shoes below. Very neat, very organized. The right side held a small, stackable washer and dryer. Xander played his light over the edge. “What’s that?”

Sam got closer. “Blood.” She opened the washer. The contents were wet. Inside was a pair of running shoes, pink-and-orange running shorts, a dark shirt and a dark jacket.

The girls who’d been headed to Cattafi’s apartment said they’d seen a jogger, a woman. The witness Hart had spoken to, the weirdo in the gray Honda, also said he’d seen a woman jogging.

These clothes had to belong to Maureen Heedles. She was the jogger.

“Xander, we have three witnesses from this morning who saw a woman jogging in our neighborhood around the same time as the murder. I think Heedles was telling the truth. She’s our killer. Let’s tear this place apart. Where’s the computer?”

“Over in the corner. I’ve already copied the hard drive.” He dangled a flash drive in front of her.

They started a thorough search of the bedroom. Sam hit pay dirt five minutes in.

“Xander, I’ve got something.” Kruger had a European-style bed with drawers underneath for storage. “There’s a false panel in here. Look what I’ve found.” She held up a cell phone, a thin MacBook Air and a black leather bag. “Wanna bet these are Amanda’s?”

“All the proof we need to tie Heedles directly to Kruger. It’s a thread we need to unravel, though. They were supposed to be in New York. How did she get to D.C. and back without Denon noticing?”

“It was night. Unless they were sharing a bed, I assume she had her own room. It’s a little over three hours by train, and Amtrak has overnight runs between the two cities. Train down, kill Amanda, dump her clothes and the laptop here with Kruger, back on the train up to New York. Boom. You could do the whole shebang in less than eight hours, and it’s faster than driving. Rather elegant, actually.”

“Smart. So what’s Kruger’s role in this?”

“I don’t know. Other than he works for Girabaldi, who used to be Robin’s boss. I think Heedles was meant to appear to be Robin Souleyret. It’s all a big setup, with her as the scapegoat. We need to let Fletcher’s people process the entire place. But we have to take this with us. Let’s go call him, let him know what we’ve got.”

“Sounds good.”

They started back toward the door. Sam noticed light bouncing in the hallway and froze. She grabbed Xander’s hand, pulled him to a stop. Leaned close. “Someone’s out there.”

The light went off, and they heard the distinct sound of a key being inserted into the lock.

Xander moved quickly, blended into the shadows by the door, pulling Sam behind him. He raised the M4 toward the breach.

The door opened gently, silent on its hinges. Someone else was breaking in, trying to be quiet about things. But this person had a key, and it wasn’t Fletcher’s people from Metro.

Xander waited for the bulk of the body to be in the apartment, then reached out with a hand and grabbed whoever was coming in the door.

The world exploded into action.

No longer worried about making noise, Xander yanked the person into the apartment and slammed the door behind them. The battle raged on for a few minutes, the two thumping and pulling and scrabbling, trying to gain purchase on the slick hardwood floor. Sam saw the intruder was small, dressed in black, fists moving at a rapid pace. Fighting, fighting hard. One punch caught Xander on the nose, another in the jaw. Sam felt a warm spray of blood across her hand. She stepped forward into the scrum, caught a kick in the shin.

But Xander was on top now, wrestling the person to the ground. After a breathless curse, Sam realized it was a woman. She saw a flash of blond hair, realized who this must be. Before she could intervene, the woman was pinned on her back, breathing hard. Xander was sitting on her chest, a large K-Bar knife to her throat.

“You broke my nose, you bitch.”

“You shouldn’t have attacked me, then, you stupid oaf. Get off me.”

Sam flashed the light across the woman’s face, which gave her the last bit of confirmation she needed. She sighed heavily.

“Xander. You can let her up. But watch yourself. It’s Robin Souleyret.”

* * *

Seeing the sister gave Sam chills. It was always hard talking to family members of the dead, but when they bore such a striking resemblance to the corpse she’d just worked on, it made things much more difficult.

All her imaginings about Amanda Souleyret went out the window when her sister Robin stood up. It was almost as if Sam could suddenly see the corpse animate, and it gave her the creeps. Eyes that sparkled with life, even in their grief, a dancer’s stride, blond hair in a long bob past her shoulders. Robin was taller than her sister, and a few years older, but the resemblance was uncanny.

Robin had also been through the ringer. She had a well-formed black eye, and new injuries from her altercation with Xander. Her right eye was swelling, her knuckles were abraded. A bruise peeked out of the top of her shirt.

“Had a rough day, I take it?” Sam asked.

Xander was still holding the knife on her, ready to use it if she bolted. She eyed him with distaste. “You could say that.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning. Explain to me why I shouldn’t call Metro and have them come arrest you for murder.”

“I didn’t kill anyone who wasn’t trying to kill me. And I don’t owe you an explanation. I have my own reasons for being here, and now that I see what I’m looking for isn’t available, I’ll be going.”

“You aren’t going anywhere,” Sam replied coolly. “I can link you to three crime scenes today. Not to mention your sister’s murder. There’s a stack of women’s clothes in the washer, which has blood on it. I don’t doubt that it’s your sister’s. You want to tell me what your connection is to Kruger?”

“Please,” Robin said, rolling her eyes. “Are you accusing me of murdering my sister?”

“Did you?”

“Hardly,” she spat.

Sam knew she couldn’t trust the woman, but a knot released in her chest. She held out the bag with Amanda’s things, and Robin flinched.

“Want to tell me how these got here?”

Souleyret was getting upset now. “I have no idea. I have no connection to this man. I’m investigating these crimes, just like you. Besides, do you think I’m dumb enough to leave evidence behind? I’ve been doing this for a very, very long time, Dr. Owens. I wouldn’t be alive today if I was as sloppy as these fools.”

“And yet, you’ve been a part of every crime scene I’ve been to today, and we have DNA to prove it.”

This clearly surprised her. “Bullshit.”

“You left a hair behind this morning at your sister’s place. And the neighbor saw your vehicle. It’s circumstantial, but it will stand up in court.”

Robin was shaking her head. “I didn’t kill those men. And I didn’t kill Bromley, or my sister, or Cattafi. I’ve been searching for her killer, just like you.” She couldn’t resist adding a gibe. “Though it seems I was a few steps ahead, until this moment.”

Sam narrowed her eyes at the woman. “So you’re just exceptionally clever, and someone’s setting you up? That’s what you’re trying to tell me?”

“Yes.” Robin seemed to be on the edge of losing control. Sam wanted to push her there. It would be the most expedient way to get information from her.

“Any idea who might have it in for you?”

Instead of answering, Robin said, “Think about it. Why would I kill my sister? Why would I kill any of these people? Now, the man who attacked me in Dr. Bromley’s office, him I had to stop. He was trying to kill me, and I wasn’t about to let that happen. But I had nothing to do with Amanda’s world, on purpose. It was the best way for me to keep her safe. I love my sister. I’m heartbroken that she’s gone. And I didn’t kill her.”

She must have seen something on Sam’s face. She backed against the sofa and sat down, arms at her sides. Defenseless. Shocked. “But you know who did. And you’ve been playing me. You know I’m innocent.”

Sam nodded. “You’re hardly innocent. But yes, we know who killed Amanda. We have her killer in custody, and a confession.”

Robin took a deep, long breath, her shoulders relaxing. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. But first, I need some ice.” She gave Xander a rueful glance and touched her eye. “Didn’t your mommy teach you it’s not nice to hit girls?”

“My mommy makes exceptions when the girl in question leads with a Smith & Wesson.”

They assembled in the kitchen. Xander plopped some ice from Kruger’s freezer in a dishcloth, handed it to Robin. He made another ice pack, cautiously held it up to his nose. When it was numbed a bit, he signaled to Sam, who ran her fingers along the edge, squeezed the sides. He grimaced, pulled back from her touch, eyes watering.

“It’s not broken. Just banged up. You’ll be pretty again when the swelling goes down.”

Robin, whose face was hidden behind her own ice pack, laughed a little. Sam turned on her.

“You’ve been our number-one suspect in several murders today. You’re damn lucky he didn’t shoot you. I hardly think this is the time to laugh. Explain what you’re doing here. Now.”

“You’re feisty. I like that. I’m just looking for a guy I know,” Robin said lightly.

Sam wasn’t in the mood. “Quit fucking around and tell me how you know Jason Kruger.”

A shadow passed across Robin’s eyes. “That’s not who I’m looking for.”

“Who, then?”

“A ghost.”

Sam got in the smaller woman’s face. “Robin. Listen to me. We have a very bad situation brewing right now. So if you know anything about it, now is the time to talk.”

She did. And the more she told them, the more frightened Sam became.

Chapter 51

Georgetown

CRIME SCENE TECHS
were cautiously assessing Samantha’s kitchen, and Fletcher watched the clock, drumming his fingers on the table. They should have called by now. He’d managed to stall the team heading to Kruger’s place, but they would get there soon, and there was nothing he could do.

Heedles had been taken to GW, and the media had their videocassette back. There would be no holding the story down. He was just thankful it was the middle of the night, or they would have already been paraded onto the morning news shows like chickens to the slaughter. It was going to be bad enough when the sun came up.

Armstrong had shown up on scene furious to find Fletcher giving directions, but when he explained what had happened, Armstrong calmed down. He sent Fletcher back to babysit the crime scene at Sam’s place with extreme injunctions to stay put and not move an inch and to get Xander Whitfield back to the scene, then started working with Marcos Daniels to keep the media firestorm under control.

Fletch was tired as hell. The adrenaline spikes throughout the day, the lack of sleep, not enough food and not enough caffeine—it was all catching up to him. He’d hiked across N Street, gotten back to Sam’s, avoided the mess in the kitchen and found Denon grieving alone in the darkened living room. Mouse had stayed nearby, lending quiet comfort, her face glowing in the screen of her computer—didn’t that girl ever get tired?

It was almost quiet when his cell rang. Finally.

“Sam. What did you find?”

“Robin Souleyret, for starters. We know what’s going on. We’re looking for a man named Riley Dixon. Fletcher, we need to drop everything and get everyone in town looking for him. I’m pretty sure he has the vaccines from Cattafi’s place, and he is armed and exceptionally dangerous.”

“Do we have a file on him?”

“He’s CIA black ops. I doubt they’ll let you see it. But I’m sending a picture your way.”

“Where the hell might this guy be, Sam? What’s he up to?”

“He’s going for the aquifer, Fletch. They’re going to release this pathogen into the water supply. It works like cholera, and apparently they’ve developed a strain that is resistant to the treatment they do at the plants. It could already be in the water supply. We’re heading there right now.”

“I’m right behind you.”

“Fletcher. You have to stay there. Send Chalk. Send everyone you have.”

“Samantha, I appreciate you being concerned for my well-being, but there’s no way I’m staying here. MacArthur Road is residential. You’re going to have a lot of scared people if we go in there with lights and sirens. Word gets out, and we’ll have more than a panic on our hands. We could scare him off, and he’ll just find another place to empty his poison into the water.”

“We can’t take this guy ourselves, Fletch. He’s a trained assassin. We need SWAT. And HRT. And every other acronym with a bunch of guns we can find.”

“We have Xander and Chalk. They’re probably more capable than half a dozen SWAT officers. By the time I make the call, rally these guys, this could be over. We have to stop them ourselves. I’ll make the call from the car, get everyone rolling, but we’re going, now.”

“I’m glad you have so much faith in their abilities.”

“Sam, you’re wasting time. To hell with protocol. We’re trying to stop a terror attack. I’m back in the game. Meet me at the aquifer. I’m on my way.”

He heard her curse once before he turned off the phone.

He had no desire to be a hero, but now was the time for them to strap it on and stop this Riley Dixon character before it was too late.

* * *

The D.C. aquifer was quiet, the humming of the engines the only noise. Those who lived in the area were asleep in their beds, completely unaware that a potential terrorist attack was under way.

Fletcher and Chalk headed northwest on the divided highway, driving slowly, watching for anything that might be out of place.

Fletcher had always worried about the aquifer. Though it was well-guarded and the water treated so thoroughly and deeply that pathogens couldn’t possibly pass through, it was open and exposed. If there was a weaponized pathogen that
could
be distributed in water, where it would grow into something bigger, maintain its effectiveness and manage not to be killed by the treatment itself—this was the perfect place to attack.

Sam had emailed a photo of Riley Dixon, so at least they knew who they were looking for.

Fletcher pulled to the side of the road, parked. He and Chalk got out and started toward the plant. A few moments later, Sam, Xander and Robin Souleyret drove up. They converged a block away from the aquifer.

Sam had Robin fill them in on her information—that her source assured her there were at least three methods being tested to get the superbug into the general population, and they were going for the water tonight.

Chalk handed Xander another clip for his M4. “Why do you think he’s here? He could be anywhere.”

“It’s just a feeling,” Robin said. “Something Riley said to me this morning. He asked me if I’d seen today’s bulletin. It’s the daily threat risk assessment we get. There was a story about a white paper done several years ago on terrorism and water supplies. A reminder of the threats we face, asking them to tighten security at all the water treatment plants across the country. We have threats like this all the time, but he’s never once mentioned the bulletin to me, and my boss mentioned the possibility of a water attack. It was clearly on everyone’s minds today, but I think it was more. I think he was trying to tell me something.”

“You never saw this coming?” Fletcher asked.

Robin shook her head. “I haven’t seen much past the end of my nose for a long time, Lieutenant. And if you’d asked me two hours ago if Riley Dixon could be involved in a terrorist attack on this country, I would have shot you just for being stupid. But I’m seeing clearly now. He removed his GPS tracker, he shut down our company’s satellites and he’s off the grid entirely. And that thought frightens me more than anything else. Now. Shall we?”

“One last thing,” Chalk said. “Do you think he’s alone?”

Robin paused a second, then shook her head. “Probably not. We normally operate alone, yes, but with a job this big? If it were me, I’d bring backup. At least a few people to cover me. But I like our odds.”

Xander gave Sam a smile. It was a compliment, one operator to another. He liked Robin, she could tell. She was tough and ballsy and ruthless. All things he respected.

With a glance at Chalk, Xander spun his finger in the air. He took the lead and they bled into the darkness, weapons drawn, a silent black wedge moving toward the treatment plant.