That certainly left him out as a suspect.
Marie had given them a list of friends to call, and the friends were all being called. Men had now been sent out as well to scour her Brooklyn neighborhood. McBride had returned to his station to get information out to the departments in all five boroughs, and Mike was in with Egan, reporting on the nothing that they had so far.
Someone had to have seen something. Craig was convinced of that. The problem was always finding that someone and, sometimes, making them realize that they did know something or had seen something.
Craig stared at the board, at the picture of the dead women—and the missing woman. He looked at the list of suspects they’d written, those involved with Jeannette Gilbert and Le Club Vampyre and the historic find.
There had to be a connection between Jeannette and Sadie.
Somehow in their lives, they had come across the same person.
Maybe not. Maybe, with any luck, Sadie was just missing, and they would find her soon. She’d had a one-night stand and she’d lost her phone, but she’d reappear soon.
Craig had the feeling that wouldn’t prove to be the case. He wrote the word connection with a big question mark.
Then the phone rang, and he was glad to hear that it was Kieran.
“Hey, I know you’re working, but I think I have something for you,” she told him.
“Yeah? And what are you doing?” he asked, disturbed that he was so quickly on the offensive with her. “Kieran, this guy is really sick and he’s out there. You’re not—”
“I had sushi with Dr. Fuller,” she said flatly.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry, what is it?”
“He found something interesting,” Kieran said. “Should I come to you?”
“He found something interesting? Why isn’t he in here?”
“He isn’t sure it means anything. It’s just something that he found. You know Dr. Fuller. Casual reading about heinous serial killers before lunch and then a tennis date. And, Craig, really, it may not mean anything, but...”
He glanced at his watch. “You near? Can you come on up?”
“I’ll walk right over.”
* * *
Kieran was glad that she was welcomed now at the offices of the FBI.
The New York City FBI shared a building with a number of government agencies, including Citizenship and Immigration Services and Homeland Security.
It was a busy place.
But Kieran was accustomed to walking through security and handing over her bag, and, as usual, Craig sent someone down to get her.
When she reached his office, he’d just gotten a couple cups of coffee and hers was ready by the desk. “I don’t know about you, but I need it,” he said. “Thanks, Ginny,” he told the young agent who had brought her in.
And then, to Kieran’s surprise, he closed the office door and took her into his arms, holding her tightly for a minute.
He didn’t tend to be demonstrative in his workplace.
“You okay?” she asked him.
“I’m fine. But I hate what I’m seeing with this case. We may have another victim. Or our possible victim might walk back into her apartment any minute. We’re concerned. This killer made Gilbert up as if she were a beautiful life-size doll. The other victim in Virginia was the same. The woman who’s missing now is a beauty queen.” He rubbed his brow, and she saw the stress and how it affected him. “We just do what we have to do. Doesn’t mean that it’s easy. Egan told me once that he’d quit if the dead ever stopped bothering him.”
Kieran nodded. “I know. I saw her in that coffin. It’s hard.”
He nodded, taking a long swallow of his coffee. “What does the illustrious Dr. Fuller have?”
“He was looking up killers—just because his mind constantly works, I’m pretty sure. Anyway, he was looking up killers who kept bodies. He came up with the usual cases that are well-known, such as Ed Gein and Dahmer and a few others, but they desecrated the bodies, and practiced cannibalism and necrophilia and...well, this killer is different. Dr. Fuller tried all kinds of key words on the internet, I’m sure, and then stumbled upon this.”
Kieran handed Craig the printout of the New Jersey article.
Craig read it and looked over at her. “I’d say this definitely could be our man,” he told her. He picked up his office phone. She listened as he called one of his favorite coworkers in the tech department, told him about the article and asked him to do a search for anything else like it. He hung up, looked at her and said, “Hang on. I want to talk to Egan for a minute. I don’t want to go trampling on the Jersey police. Not ’cause I’m a nice guy. But I want the Jersey guys to believe I’m a nice guy. I want their help and we usually do fine, but now and again, you hit a guy not fond of federal interference.”
“Sure.”
He headed to his door and then turned back. “You’re okay? You don’t have to help out at Finnegan’s?”
“No, I’m fine,” she told him.
She idly looked around his office. Craig wasn’t given to having too much around him, but he did have a few paintings on his walls; he liked views of bridges. She was also glad to see that he had her picture in a frame on his desk. That made her smile.
He walked back to the door and looked in at her. “Want to take a drive to Jersey?”
“Do I want to drive to Jersey?” she asked.
“You interested?”
“You’re going to take me?”
“I like it when you’re with me,” he said.
She was a little disturbed by what she knew he really meant.
It wasn’t so much that he wanted her working with him. It was just that bad things were going on. He didn’t like her alone on the streets.
But she was interested, and she knew that come Monday, Drs. Fuller and Miro would be working with someone from the Bureau and she might as well be up to date on what was happening.
And seeing what she could on the Jersey victim would be important.
It wasn’t bad, in such a big and crazy city, to have a number of friends in law enforcement.
But sometimes...
“I love being with you, too,” she said sweetly.
“I just have to stack some papers up in the conference room. Come with me and you can see what I’ve added.”
She followed him down the hall and into the conference room where, she knew, they spent time keeping order on clues and theories. Craig always kept a board; it was important to him. He was also good at staring at his boards and putting the pieces of a puzzle together.
But, that afternoon, when she stepped in and looked at his board, she gasped.
“What?” he demanded.
Kieran walked over to the board. She looked at the picture that had been added, next to those of the Fredericksburg victim, Cary Howell, and Jeannette Gilbert.
“What?” Craig demanded tensely.
Kieran turned and looked at him. “I saw her, Craig. I saw her. She was at Finnegan’s last night.”
* * *
Craig still meant to get to Jersey that afternoon.
But it was going to have to wait.
He arranged for Egan, McBride and Mike Dalton to meet him down at Finnegan’s, while Kieran called Declan to warn him that the FBI and police were descending on the pub.
And then they headed in.
Neither Danny nor Kevin was there, but Declan’s sweet Irish fiancée, Mary Kathleen, was working that afternoon, and she assured Kieran she had everything under control as Declan and Kieran headed into the office.
It was crowded with the FBI men and McBride in the small space.
Declan, while a little bewildered, was still extremely helpful. He always was; Declan was solid. Craig had liked him from the get-go.
“This yo
ung woman, Sadie, was at the bar a good hour,” Declan said. “Not a heavy drinker—she had two rum and Cokes in that time. We were so busy, I didn’t talk to anyone for long. But I remember she was very pleasant, said she was in the neighborhood, killing time, waiting to meet up with a friend. She asked me if it was crazy with everything going on at the church...club. Whatever.”
“Did she meet up with anyone?” Craig asked.
Declan shook his head. “I have no idea. She paid her bill at about 10:45 p.m. Cash. Just left the money on the bar. I didn’t actually see her leave. Did you, Kieran?”
“No, but I spoke with her. She was really nice. She wanted to know if our clock above the bar was right. I told her that it was. I’d have liked to have talked to her more, but it was just crazy.”
Craig glanced curiously at Kieran. She had been so serious. When she had first seen the picture of Sadie Miller she swore she had just seen the young woman. He’d asked her if she was certain. After all, even though New York could tend to be a “neighborhood” place where people hung out in the same stretch of blocks, it was a city of eight to sixteen million people, depending on the time and the season. But Kieran had been positive that it was Sadie she had seen. And she was definitely shaken. Well, she’d seen the corpse of Jeannette Gilbert. And it was unnerving to think that this young woman she had spoken with might have met a similar fate.
“I’m pulling all my credit card receipts from last night,” Declan said. “And I can make you a list of the regulars who were in here last night, but I don’t think a killer or kidnapper came in here and paid with a credit card. Of course, I guess criminals aren’t all super bright, so there is a possibility. And of course it’s possible that someone else might have spoken with her. Bobby O’Leary was at the bar with his soda and lime. You all know Bobby. He was hurt near here during the diamond case you all worked. He’s a great witness because he’s always stone-cold sober.”
“We’ll speak with Bobby,” Craig said.
“He might have come in since we’ve been in here,” Declan said. “There’s a soccer match he wants to see, and he likes the big screen over the bar.”
“I’ll check,” Kieran offered.
She seemed anxious to flee the office.
“I’m hoping someone might have seen something. Downtown—especially with that Le Club Vampyre closed right now—is quiet late at night, especially on the weekend, except for this place and a few others. I mean, sometimes the city streets are so busy you’ve seen a hundred or more people in a block.” As Declan spoke, he was going through his computer, checking their card receipts. “I’ll print this up,” he said, keying in the function. Across the room, the printer jumped into action.
“Thanks. Give me an email copy to get to Tech, too, will you?” Craig asked.
“Absolutely,” Declan promised.
A moment later, the office door opened and Bobby O’Leary stepped in.
Bobby was another good guy. Craig knew because he had been involved—being attacked and seriously injured—during their search for the diamond killers. He was the perfect older Irishman with bright blue eyes, snow-white hair and ruddy cheeks.
“You’re looking for a lass, so I hear,” Bobby said. “Beautiful girl! Sweet as can be. I talked to her for several minutes. I believe she thought I was the least dangerous thing at the bar.”
“Bobby, thank you,” Craig said. “Did she tell you where she was going? Did she mention anyone’s name?”
“No, she said that she had an important meeting, and I said that I was surprised, because people don’t usually have important meetings late on Friday night. She just said that it was very special to her and with busy people, you had to take the time that they had. Let’s see, we talked about sports—she’s not into real football—soccer, you know—but she loves American football. Oh! She said she’d wanted to come down to Finnegan’s for a long time. She’d known about it, but getting downtown wasn’t always that easy. Except now she realized it was just a hop on the subway. Charming girl, absolutely charming. And she was disappointed Kevin wasn’t here. Apparently, they worked together on some thing or another a year ago.”
“She knew Kevin?” Craig asked, looking over at Kieran.
She wasn’t looking at him. Rather, she kept her gaze on Bobby.
“She did mention that,” Kieran said. “That’s right. But it was so crazy, I didn’t get much in the sixty seconds that I talked to her. I think she said they did a print ad together about a year ago, and that he’d mentioned then that the family owned a place down here. I don’t believe she’d seen him since. She said that she’d call him. Probably just to mention that she’d been down here.”
“So she wasn’t looking for Kevin or looking to meet up with him?” Craig asked.
“No,” Bobby said. “Definitely not. She was meeting someone busy and special. Who the hell that was, I don’t know.”
“Did you see her leave?” Craig asked.
“I did, sir. She left money on the bar, looked at the clock over the bar and told me it was lovely chatting with me. I said that it was quite grand speaking with her. She turned and left.”
“But you didn’t see her on the sidewalk after she left?”
“No.”
“Did anyone seem to follow her out?”
“Special Agent Frasier, that door might have been at Grand Central Station last night, it opened and closed so many times,” Bobby said. “It was very busy. Did I see anyone give her special attention and follow her? No. When murdering-bastard diamond thieves aren’t in this bar, it has an incredibly respectable clientele!” he added indignantly.
Declan arranged for the staff who’d been on duty the night before to come in one by one. Richard Egan, Mike and McBride joined Craig in the questioning. No one knew anything other than that the lovely young woman had been there, that she had been charming and polite, and—general consensus—she had left at 10:45 p.m.
Not long before Craig had arrived himself.
“I’ll head back to headquarters,” McBride said after they’d finished speaking with all of the staff members. “As you know, we already have all our available men searching for Ms. Miller. I’m going to post this information farther afield and make sure every man out there knows how important it is that we find this poor girl. Anything that can be done, we’ll do it. I know the Bureau has agents out there, too, but the NYPD does nothing but New York City.”
Craig nodded. “NYPD—finest in the world.”
Kieran remained strangely silent, but when they’d finished speaking with everyone at the pub, he was still determined to get to New Jersey.
He was afraid that she was going to balk at his invitation now.
There was something up with her; he knew her too well.
But as they parted—Mike to head back to the office to see what the tech people could find, McBride to speak with his officers and Egan to follow through on his own research—Kieran gave him no problem.
First, though, she checked with her brother.
“You need me tonight?” she asked Declan.
She looked hopeful when she spoke to him.
“Ah, sister, sweet love of my life!” Declan teased. “We always need you. But we’re pretty covered for tonight. It won’t be as busy as last night.”
She seemed disappointed.
“Take all the time you need with Craig,” Declan added seriously.
And Kieran didn’t look at all pleased. Her smile for her brother was definitely forced.
Craig was silent as they left, and so was Kieran.
He cursed softly—it was a resident’s requirement—at the traffic they hit going through the Holland Tunnel.
He glanced over at Kieran. She didn’t notice the traffic—or his words.
“You okay?” he asked her.
“What?�
�� she said, startled as she looked at him.
He couldn’t help but notice the depth of her eyes, the endless blue, and how beautifully the deep red of her hair complemented her pale skin.
Unbidden came a terrifying thought.
Beautiful women were being taken.
There were literally millions of women in the City of New York.
But not all of them were perfect.
Like Kieran.
He forced himself to shake it off.
“I asked if you were okay,” he said.
“Yes, of course, I’m fine. I’m just...well, rattled. She was so nice, Craig. I mean, seriously, so sweet and nice. It’s horrible to think that someone might have hurt her. Killed her.”
“Right now, she’s just missing. And maybe this person she met had something spectacular for her.”
She looked at him drily. “Maybe.”
“Hey, let’s look for the good.”
Though she nodded, she said, “I know you and I know the way your mind works. I know you guys are afraid that she’s already dead. Because, according to the ME, Jeannette was probably killed right around the time she disappeared. This guy likes to hold on to corpses—not live bodies.”
“But we don’t know,” he said firmly. “What I also don’t know is why you didn’t mention the fact that Sadie Miller knew Kevin.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Kevin? Why would I mention that? It had nothing to do with her being at the bar. He said something to her about Finnegan’s over a year ago. I probably forgot. I was so stunned to see the picture.”
“You’re always a lousy liar, you know.”
“I’m... Why would I lie?”
“Why would you lie?” he demanded. He couldn’t look at her; he was out of the tunnel and making his way through two giant semis on the highway.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m not one of your tech support or office workers—or a suspect! Don’t interrogate me.”
“Don’t treat me like an idiot.”
“You’re assuming that role.”
“And don’t try psychology on me. I refuse to feel guilty. I asked you a question. You were quick to say that our missing woman was someone you had seen, but you didn’t mention her name, or that she was friends with Kevin.”
A Perfect Obsession Page 10