Eleven (Brandon Fisher FBI Series #1)

by Carolyn Arnold

  “Did they see who dropped this off?” Jack took the photos, held them on an angle, and looked at me. Something in his eyes told me he didn’t really want me in his room, and if it was anything but the current circumstance I’d be out on my rump.

  “The security camera’s a dud. The lady who was on shift starts at six.” I couldn’t obtain a satisfying breath. All I could think about was Debbie being kidnapped, tortured and murdered. I thought of the circular graves, the empty one, the void begging for the unsub to fill it. I knew it was nonsense as there was no way they would ever gain access to Bingham’s property, but I also realized it could be repeated elsewhere. After all we knew files were being sent to us regarding similar murders in Sarasota.

  Jack dropped onto the end of the mattress. I noticed then how the sheets were unkempt, pulled back and bunched up at the end of the bed. I remembered the voices I had heard earlier. Now inside the room the TV definitely wasn’t on. Maybe he shut it off before answering the door. I don’t know why, maybe it was the jittery way Jack was acting, the more accommodating manner, but I believed someone else was in this room.

  But it wasn’t any of my business. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed home again. As the hallow rings repeated, they droned in my brain. I might never speak to her again. All I imagined was her captured and begging for life.

  “Kid, we’ll head out first thing in the morning—”

  “In the morning? She could be dead by then.”

  “We’ll call the Prince William County PD, have them drive by the house, and check things out. We have to keep a level head.”

  Prince William County PD covered Woodbridge.

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Yeah I’m the boss. It’s my job. Besides running into Woodbridge all hotheaded on a mission isn’t going to accomplish anything. You should know that.”

  “You’re talking about how I came at the CSIs?”

  Jack shrugged his shoulders. I realized another thing about Jack Harper; he never let anything go. He held onto it, good or bad, and used it as a grading chart against all future actions. Like my earlier mention of the academy, and how it didn’t teach me an aspect about DNA, and suddenly I was a finger-pointer of blame.

  “I’m going.”

  “Okay how do you know this isn’t another game, huh? Maybe Royster dropped this off before or after the photo to the prison. Besides the man’s dead.”

  My jaw tightened, and a hand went over the gun I still carried in my holster. “We don’t know he dropped those off. And you’re telling me Royster flew to Woodbridge, snapped the photos and came back here, all for a joke. Maybe the other unsub who we haven’t caught yet did this. Maybe he has Deb.”

  Jack leaned across the bed to the nightstand and opened the drawer. He pulled out his cell phone, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. “Listen, Kid, how do you know she didn’t take off to a girlfriend’s, go visit her mother?” He straightened back to a seated position, flipped open the cigarette pack, and lit one up. The rooms were non-smoking, not that anything seemed to matter to the man except for his nicotine addiction. “Isn’t that possible?”

  I gave the question a few seconds consideration. “Still, her cell phone? Shouldn’t she at least be answering that?”

  “It’s late. She probably turned it off.”

  “Then it would ring straight to voicemail. It doesn’t.” I paced the room. As I headed towards the bathroom door, Jack sprung off the bed and redirected me.

  “Call her mother, call her best lady friends and I’m sure you’ll find her.”

  “And if I don’t? They’ll all be panicked for no reason. Until I know for sure—”

  Jack put a hand on my shoulder, and removed it almost as fast as it had made contact. “We’ll find her.” He pressed some keys on his phone. “We’ve all been on the go since early. It wouldn’t be safe to be on the roads, and that’s not even mentioning the pain of arranging the flight back to Washington from Louisville.”

  Woodbridge, Virginia was about thirty minutes out from Washington.

  “You’re being careless.”

  Jack hung up the phone and glared at me. “When you’ve seen all I have then we can talk. I know when to react, I know when to get wound up, but I also know how to control it.” He jabbed the phone toward me. “That’s the part you have to learn. Look at the evidence. We have pictures of your house and wife. Could Royster have gotten these offline like he did your Twitter pic?”

  I pulled the photos from the bed where he had left them. I studied the photograph of my house trying to be objective. I convinced myself to breathe in deep, allowing myself to believe Jack’s other scenarios. Debbie was over at her mother’s or at a friend’s. Wherever she was, she was safe.

  My eyes went to the garden bed at the front of the house. It was just as I remembered before leaving. But the hanging flower basket on the veranda, I didn’t remember that. The porch stairs were missing paint. A week, maybe two ago the way time moves, Debbie and I had applied a fresh coat. We had a couple beers afterward and ordered in pizza while watching mindless television programs.

  I looked back to the basket. I remembered it now. It had dried out from the sun and Debbie threw it out. I razzed her about her inability to keep plants alive. She blamed Mother Nature.

  “This photo is at least two to three weeks old.” I matched eyes with Jack.

  “Okay, then. What does that tell you?”

  “I don’t know. What do you want me to say?”

  “Think clearly. The photo of you was pulled from the Internet. The whole point was to play with you—”

  “Was it?”

  “Oh Lord, here we go.” Jack looked heavenward which I found hypocritical for a nonreligious person.

  I took a few steps but circled back to where I had started. “What if Royster mailed the photo to the prison as a confession for his sins? He knew that we’d be watching Bingham. And he knew if we didn’t find out about the picture sent there, we’d find these ones.”

  “You just said a minute ago we don’t even know if it was Royster who dropped these ones off.” Jack pointed to the photos in my hand.

  “No, now I’d put money on it. Paige said the other CSI, Charlie, commented on how Royster said he was curious about how fast the FBI work. Royster said he didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. I believe he was willing to die for what he had done.”

  “It doesn’t explain why he shot at us.”

  “He missed us with every, single bullet. Like you said, if he wanted to hit us, he would have.”

  “Okay, let’s say you’re right—”

  “I am right.”

  Jack’s eyes shifted, moving over me, but he didn’t say anything.

  “So now I have to figure out why these photos. Why did Royster drop these off?”

  “Same thing Kid, if you’re right. If we failed to track him by the photo dropped off at the prison, this would ensure we’d come after him.”

  “So he wanted to get caught. Suicide by cop.” Jack shrugged. “A man is dead.”

  “A man who took part in the brutal murder of at least one person.”

  Our eyes deadlocked, and with it reality latched on. “Jack, even if Royster dropped off the photos, it doesn’t explain why I can’t reach Deb.”

  “Take a close look at the pictures.” Jack gestured toward them, calm and composed.

  He was right. I couldn’t help Debbie by being hysterical. “Well, the picture of my house is an older one.” I thought of the Internet. “I got it. He took the photo of my house from Google Earth. That would explain why it’s not a current photo. They only update every so often.”

  “And the picture of your wife?” Jack walked past me to the door and flicked his cigarette onto the pavement outside.

  The photo was a bust only. Debbie wore a collared white shirt. Her smile wasn’t sincere but likely in response to the photographer’s prompt.

  “He got this off the Internet somewhere too. Just a sec, I’ll be righ
t back.” I hurried to my room where the laptop was on my bed.

  When I came back out into the relative darkness of the lot, I noticed a figure slip out of Jack’s room. Based on the size of frame it was Paige.

  Was she the one in Jack’s room? The jealousy ignited the blood in my veins but I reined in my focus.

  Jack’s hotel door was still open. I let myself in, put the laptop on the long dresser with the twenty-inch tube TV and logged on. “Debbie works for a law firm. She’s a clerk there, but I remember her saying something about how they were taking staff photos.” I went to their website and pulled up the employee page. I pointed a finger to the screen. “Yep, that’s where the son of a bitch got it.” I let out a deep breath and as I did my eyes scanned to the bathroom door. It was no longer closed. My heart cinched. Paige was sleeping with Jack.

  “There you go. The pictures were taken from the Internet and not in person.” Jack pulled out his cell phone, dialed a number, and held it to an ear.

  I knew he was right, the words, and the conclusion logical. Yet, without hearing Debbie’s voice, it still left way for doubt. “I just wish I could reach her.” I pulled out my cell again.

  “Everything will be fine.”

  “Didn’t think you believed in making promises.”

  “I don’t believe in—” Jack held up a finger and spoke into his cell. “Chief Fayette…yes I’d know you’d rather I call you by…yes Bob.”

  Jack carried on banter with the man for a while. It must have been the Chief’s direct line. Maybe they were golfing buddies not that I saw Jack having enough patience to be successful at the sport.

  I listened closely as the tone of the call changed. Jack expressed his concern over an agent’s wife being in danger. They spoke for a few minutes about family and something about we’ll have to do that again before Jack tossed his cell on the dresser near the laptop.

  “She’s a pretty woman.” Jack bobbed his head toward the screen.

  “I think so.” I wasn’t about to get into an in-depth conversation about it. It was bad enough the man was sleeping with my former lover. “You and the Chief are close.”

  Jack stepped toward me. “It’s late, let’s get some sleep. A couple cruisers are going by your house to check things out.”

  “And—”

  “Once they do they’ll call you,” Jack answered my question hearing only one word. He closed the lid of the laptop and handed it to me. “Night.”

  CHAPTER 21

  As I peeled out of the cigarette-saturated clothing it made me wish the damage being done to my lungs from the second-hand smoke could be removed as easily.

  I left the cell phone on the bathroom counter and set the ring volume to outdoor. I had tried Debbie several more times before giving up on reaching her. Although pain still registered in my chest, Jack’s calmness had a way of dousing my concern with logic. Royster was dead, and we didn’t have proof he and the other unsub were in communication.

  I ran the shower almost hot enough to scald; a thousand sharp needles pricked my skin. But as I got used to the temperature it somehow transformed into warm hug, making it undesirable to get out. I stayed in there until the water ran cool.

  Pulling back the shower curtain, I looked at myself in the mirror and instinctively put both hands on my abs. I had kept myself in good athletic shape between the gym and my love for boxing. If I wasn’t at work or home I was normally doing some form of exercise.

  The assessment turned to thoughts of Paige sleeping with Jack. I found myself making the comparison. He was older while I was younger. He was in good shape for his age. I was in terrific shape, and younger. A smirk tugged the corner of my mouth.

  I pulled a towel from the bar and swept it around my torso. If the only thing I could retort with was the fact I was younger than Jack that wasn’t much of a defense. And why I was comparing us, rating us as Paige’s lovers when my wife was possibly missing, went beyond my logic. Maybe I should feel remorse for doing so. On a certain level I’m sure I did. But whatever the motivating feelings, they didn’t mean anything. I loved my wife. Paige was part of my past, obviously part of Jack’s present.

  Three quarters of an hour had gone by and the phone still hadn’t rung. I kept trying Debbie from the hotel line so as not to tie up my cell, still no answer. I gave more thought to Jack’s suggestions of her going to her mother’s or a friend’s.

  Debbie worked to avoid her mother. She felt like a disappointment to her because she hadn’t given her a grandchild. But it wasn’t for a lack of trying. We got pregnant once. We celebrated. When Debbie lost the baby, we grieved. The doctors said Debbie had fetal-blocking antibodies which meant her body’s immune system viewed the baby as a threat.

  We tried a few more times, but Debbie had never been the same and in the last few months she hadn’t even mentioned children. It wasn’t even something we talked about anymore. I wondered sometimes if she knew how I really felt about them. It’s not that I didn’t like children but I didn’t believe that alone was enough reason to bring them into the world.

  I wedged a pillow in the small of my back and leaned against the headboard. I put the laptop on my legs and turned on the television at low volume more for company than entertainment. There was no way I’d fall asleep until I heard something from the Prince William County PD. Thinking of them made me think of Jack and his direct access to the Chief.

  Jack didn’t have to ask for his call to be directed. Jack had the Chief’s home number. When I mentioned them being close, he clammed up as per his usual reaction to a conversation he didn’t initiate.

  I brought up the Internet. It was good for more than pictures. I searched the full name Robert Fayette, the Prince William County PD Chief of Police. As the results came up I found one of particular interest.

  Fayette had served time in the United States Army Special Forces from the ’80s to early ’90s. Jack had served until ninety with his last post in Panama in eight-nine. It was possible they both served in the same unit.

  I went back to the search results and picked another link. It sent me to a personal blog belonging to Stephanie Tavers, and a picture of Fayette with his arms wrapped, one around a woman and one around a boy who was tall as Fayette. A little girl sat in front of them, legs folded and showcasing a toothless smile. The photo was at least twenty years old comparing it to the way the Chief looked now.

  I read the caption beneath it:

  My dad is someone special. I’m sure every little girl believes that about their father, but with mine that conviction grew within me as I aged. We’re thankful he returned to us.

  I scrolled down the page and a much younger Jack stood beside the Chief. Both were in uniform.

  The caption read:

  My father’s hero.

  I heard the vibration on the nightstand before I heard the ringtone. I answered before the first ring finished. “Hello.”

  “Special Agent Brandon Fisher? This is Officer Spalding of Prince William County PD.”

  “My wife, is she—”

  “No one is home, but there’s no sign of forced entry, or a struggle. We peeked into some of the windows that were open.”

  “Curtains were open?” That was unlike Debbie. She normally loved to let the sunlight stream in during the day but hated the thought of parading in front of passersby at night.

  “The ones in the bedroom and the front living area.”

  “But everything looked fine?”

  “Yes. As I said no sign of a struggle. Maybe she just went to a friend’s for the night. We have a watch out for her car and will let you know if anything comes of it.”

  I let out a jagged exhale.

  “I’m not sure what else we can do at this point. As I said—”

  “I know. No evidence of a struggle. Keep me updated.”

  “Of cour—”

  I hung up before he could finish and dialed Debbie’s cell again which rang repeatedly. This time it switched over to voicemail. Hearing her vo
ice merely as a recording made my stomach tighten. My heart sank. I didn’t want to imagine her in the hands of a killer, being cut and tortured because of me. Bingham said I was the sinner, the one deserving punishment, what had Debbie done? Why were they targeting her? Was it just to get to me?

  I sprung from the bed, ready to tell Jack I’d be taking one SUV and driving back to Louisville. As my feet hit the carpet, I knew the notion wasn’t founded on logic but driven by emotion. Where would I go once I got there? If I made independent arrangements with a commercial airline to fly home from there, I could forget about my career with the FBI. Really, what did I expect to find that the PD hadn’t? I dropped back on the edge of the bed, ran a hand through my hair, and stared into the carpet as if the pattern would provide the answers.

  They say that we can feel when something’s wrong with those we love. It’s a raw instinct that eats at us, guides us as a barometer, and somehow has the ability to entwine two souls. Even though my emotions were haywire, raw from worry, somewhere inside I felt she was safe. But what if I were wrong, what if we weren’t as connected as I thought?

  I thought back on our last conversation, her wanting me to come home and my short and pointed response. I didn’t even say I love you in response to hers. Maybe she was mad at me, and trying to prove a point by not taking my calls. She had been known to do that before. For some reason, she used the silent treatment as a means of discipline, feeling it was capable of realigning the relationship. I didn’t see it the same way. I know stereotypically men are supposed to keep their feelings bottled up and not be willing to share them even when prodded. I wasn’t that type of man. It’s not that I wished to discuss how I felt about things at regular intervals, but communication was a basic necessity for a functioning relationship, and to assume otherwise was deceiving oneself.

  Maybe that’s why it was easier to fall into Paige’s arms while I was at the academy. At least I had molded that plausible excuse into a justifiable one. And thinking about Paige made me wonder about her current relationship with Jack. I found it strange how jealous I was over them being together, no matter what the depth of their arrangement. Knowing Paige I figured it was more of an arrangement than a deep, meaningful coupling. Paige wasn’t the settling type of woman. She loved her freedom and independence even when it came to her lovers. She had always provided me space and respected that I had obligations that didn’t involve her.