The Cold Trail

by J. C. Fields

  “Robert, don’t you think it would be wise to double check on Junior?”

  Senior shook his head, but did not divert his gaze from his assistant. After several awkward moments, Senior averted his stare. “Should I?”

  “Not my decision. But I believe it might be prudent to know if there are other incidents you don’t know about.”

  “Dammit, Allison, you’ve managed to spoil the mood of the evening.”

  “Better to know now than have a Washington Post reporter explain it to you.”

  Robert Burns nodded and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed a number and waited for the call to be answered.

  ***

  Joel Moody, ex-police detective and current head of security for Haylex Holdings, Inc., reached for the phone on his night stand and answered on the fourth ring.

  “Yes, Mr. Burns.”

  “How are you tonight, Joel?”

  “Fine, sir. I understand congratulations are in order.”

  “Yes, it was a positive outcome.”

  “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Uh… This is a sensitive matter, one I do not wish to discuss over the phone. Can you be in my office at eight in the morning?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Good.”

  The call ended, and Moody returned the cell phone to his nightstand. He stared at the digital alarm clock next to the cell phone and sighed. It was approaching eleven in the evening. Burns rarely asked for meetings, which piqued his curiosity. As he lay back down, his wife stirred next to him and mumbled, “What was that all about?”

  He smiled and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Not sure. Burns wants a meeting in the morning.”

  His response was a gentle snore as his wife settled back into slumber.

  Staring at the dark ceiling, his mind raced wondering about the reasons for the meeting. The fifty-year-old detective would never fully get back to sleep.

  ***

  “Would you like coffee, Joel?”

  “No, thank you, sir. What did you want to discuss?”

  Robert Burns poured a cup of coffee from the service cart his administrative assistant brought in every morning. His office was located on the sixth floor of the Haylex Building in downtown Seattle. He shook a pack of Splenda, tore off an end, and absent-mindedly poured the granules into the steaming liquid. Walking back to his desk, he placed the coffee to his right, intertwined his fingers, and placed them flat on the desk top.

  “Joel, I have a delicate issue to discuss. I need your total commitment to secrecy.”

  “Without being said, sir. Of course.”

  “Good.”

  Moody sat ram-rod straight in the chair facing Burns’ desk. He remained silent.

  “I need to know if my son has any…” He hesitated for a moment. “Uh—embarrassing activity in his past.”

  Moody blinked twice, but did not answer right away. After several awkward moments, he tilted his head to the left and asked, “Other than the incident in Washington, what kind of embarrassing activities?”

  Burns gave his security chief a lopsided smile. “The incident in Washington has been handled legally, and the individual involved is under a strict non-disclosure agreement. She won’t be speaking to the press. I’m more interested in any episode with drugs, women, men, illegitimate children, etc.”

  Moody smiled. “Sir, we did a thorough investigation right after he announced his candidacy, per your request. You know about the affairs at the college campuses. Those women signed agreements and had their tuition paid.”

  “Were you able to account for all of the trips he took?”

  A slight smile came to Joel Moody as he recognized the trap he was being led into. Many a clever defense attorney had tried to trip him up during his years as a Seattle police detective. Few did. “Yes, sir. We covered every trip your son took during his time as a Haylex Solutions consultant. We found nothing nefarious. He had a lot of fun, but nothing illegal.”

  “Good. Now I need you to look into any personal trips he might have taken.”

  “Why, sir?”

  “Joel, I know my son. Like his father, he has a wild streak. I need to know, before he is sworn in as a senator, if there is anything embarrassing in his past.”

  Moody nodded.

  The meeting lasted another hour before Joel Moody left Robert Burns’ office. The task assigned would not be difficult. Joel Moody knew exactly who and what Robert Burns Jr. was. It would be fun watching the loathsome individual fall from his father’s grace.

  Chapter 10

  Hannibal, MO

  The house appeared old and tired, just like the owner. Since his last visit, seventeen years ago, the trees were larger, the evergreens overgrown and in desperate need of pruning. The house paint was faded from years of sun and neglect. Calling ahead to request a visit, he was informed about the current state of Paul Kelly’s health. This news increased his feelings of dread and depression about the questions he needed to ask the still-grieving father.

  A round woman in her early fifties answered the door.

  “Are you the FBI agent who called?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Sean Kruger.” He showed her his newly updated ID and badge.

  “Please come in. I’m Sara Kelly. My uncle is awake. Hopefully, he will remember you. His dementia is taking more and more of his personality each day.”

  Kruger paused. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “His short term memory is almost non-existent. Unfortunately, he seems to relive that awful day seventeen years ago over and over. It’s so sad. Come with me, I’ll show you to his room.”

  Without saying anything, Kruger just nodded and followed.

  Paul Kelly’s appearance had dramatically changed since the last time Kruger interviewed him. The gray hair was gone, replaced by wisps of sparse white hair. He appeared emaciated. Kruger looked at Sara, who was looking at the frail man sitting up in bed.

  “The only nutrition his body can digest is Ensure,” she said softly.

  Returning his gaze to Paul, Kruger walked up to the bed. “Mr. Kelly, do you remember me?”

  Paul Kelly’s gaze had not strayed from Kruger since he entered the room. His eyes, dulled with cataracts, narrowed, and he nodded slightly.

  “You’re the FBI agent who was honest with me about Linda.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I never thanked you.”

  “There was never a need.”

  The older man nodded. “Do you have news for me?”

  “No, sir. I need to ask you a few questions.”

  “My memory isn’t what it used to be, Agent. I’ll do my best.”

  “Do you remember if Linda ever mentioned the name Bobby to you?”

  Kelly stared at Kruger with a blank expression.

  “Not that I can recall.”

  “There’s been a new development in the case and I needed to ask.”

  “I need to give you something, Agent Kruger. There is a box on Linda’s bed containing her personal items they returned to me after her disappearance. I want you to have them.”

  “Why?”

  “So you won’t forget about her.”

  “Trust me, Mr. Kelly, I haven’t forgotten about your daughter or any of the women who disappeared.”

  Suddenly a blank expression appeared on Paul Kelly’s face. He frowned and looked up at Kruger.

  “You’re the FBI Agent who was honest with me about Linda. Aren’t you?” he asked.

  Recognizing what was happening, Kruger gave the older man a smile. “Yes, sir, I am.”

  Kruger talked to the man several more minutes and had the same conversation three times. When Paul Kelly turned his face toward a window, Kruger asked Sara Kelly to show him Linda’s room. As soon as the door was opened, it was like stepping into a past era. Posters of Kurt Cobain, Sheryl Crow, Stone Temple Pilot, and the 1996 Women’s Olympic Basketball team still clung to the walls with yellowed cracked Scotch Tape.

  The bed
was made with a flower print bedspread adorned with ten pillows and numerous stuffed animals. Cobwebs could be seen in all four corners of the room. A sun-faded curtain still adorned the western window. Stacks of folded clothes lay on the seat of a rocking chair at the foot of the bed. Kruger could see what appeared to be several basketball jerseys within the stacks. The roomed smelled of dust and stale air.

  Kruger looked at Sara. “My uncle has not allowed anyone to touch this room. This is how it appeared when Linda went away to college. We aren’t even allowed to clean it.”

  Nodding, Kruger saw the box sitting on the bed and pointed to it. “Is that the box he mentioned?”

  She nodded.

  As he opened the top, he saw the reason for his visit. The last time he saw the object was on an apartment night stand seventeen years ago. He remembered flipping through the pages of Linda Kelly’s journal, his hands covered with latex gloves. Setting the journal on the bed next to the box, he rummaged through it until he came to a bundle of envelopes held together with a brittle rubber band. He flipped through these and placed them on top of the book.

  Further examination of the box revealed nothing else of value to his investigation, until he saw the business card laying upside down at the bottom. He reached into the side pocket of his jacket and extracted a latex glove. He placed it on his right hand and extracted the business card. He looked at it, smiled, and placed it in a small Ziploc bag. This he placed back into his jacket pocket. He turned to Sara. “Is there a picture of Linda I can borrow?”

  She frowned and pursed her lips. “Let me think.” She turned and surveyed the room. Her eyebrows rose as a small smile came to her face, and she left the room. She was back in less than a minute with a picture in a five-by-seven frame.

  “This was her sophomore picture. Truman State handed it out to the media when she set the school scoring record.”

  Kruger took the picture and saw a tall, athletic woman with auburn hair standing with her hands behind her back and a basketball at her feet. The smile on the woman’s face made Kruger sad. He shook the funk off and looked up at Sara. “This is perfect. I will return it with the letters and journal. I assume he will he want them back?”

  She shook her head. “Probably not, he’s never looked inside the box. It was sealed up until yesterday. When I told him about your call, he asked me to put it on the bed for you. I’m surprised he remembered it.”

  “I’m not. It’s part of a memory his dementia hasn’t reached yet. Unfortunately, if he lives long enough, it will.”

  Smiling, she shook her head again. “As I told you on the phone yesterday, Hospice comes in once a day. The family banded together to help Uncle Paul stay in the house as long as possible. My dad is his youngest brother and has Power of Attorney. He took a reverse mortgage out on the house. It has helped with the expenses, and there should be just enough left for the funeral. It’s sad, but he’s been able to stay here and wait for Linda.”

  Kruger gave her a grim smile.

  Sara looked at the box. “She isn’t going to come back, is she, Agent?”

  “No. I’m afraid not.”

  “Hospice started morphine two days ago. He probably won’t be with us too much longer.”

  “Probably not.”

  “My dad told me that his brother died the day he heard about Linda. His body just didn’t realize it yet.” She sighed. “He was a good man, Agent. Why do bad things happen to good people?”

  “I wish I knew, Sara.”

  ***

  Linda Kelly’s journal was interesting reading. Kruger sat at his home office desk and read it page by page, a task he had performed seventeen years earlier. It revealed a young woman’s hopes and dreams about playing in the WNBA someday. From the first page, Kruger could tell if she had lived, she would have fulfilled her dream. A sadness swept over him as he re-read the journal. The final ten pages were the important section of the book. He read them three times before setting it down.

  Stephanie appeared at the door of his office. “Did you learn anything?”

  He frowned and picked up the book. “Maybe a little. She talks about a handsome man watching basketball practice one day and having coffee with him later. No name, but there are three missing pages after that. If they did have a date, the name and any more detail may have been cut out.”

  “Maybe one of her teammates would know if they dated.”

  “I looked at my notes from the case before I read the journal. None believed she did. Her coach told me during an interview Linda’s schedule was frantic: practice, school, work, practice, and more practice. She also mentioned Linda didn’t like to date during the basketball season. Too many distractions.”

  Stephanie nodded. “I can understand that.”

  “From what I’ve learned about her, Linda was a focused individual. She reminds me a little of you when we first met.”

  “Are you telling me I’m not focused anymore?” Stephanie tried to hide her smile, but she failed miserably.

  Kruger chuckled. “No, you’re just focused in a different direction right now. Linda was on a mission, playing in the WNBA.”

  She nodded.

  “Her dad told me seventeen years ago that Linda was an adventurous individual. In the journal, she mentions the excitement of older men showing interest in her. Apparently, it had happened before.”

  “Did she and this Bobby have sex?”

  “If they did, the reference might be on the missing pages. Otherwise it is not mentioned in the journal.”

  “Does she describe him?”

  Kruger shook his head. “No, it just mentions a handsome man with expensive clothes.”

  “Do you think his description was cut out?”

  “Probably.”

  “So, in other words, you’re right back where you started.”

  “Pretty much. With one exception.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A business-size card with a phone number on it.”

  Stephanie’s eyebrows rose. “Really.”

  “I’ve sent the card off for analysis. Getting fingerprints off paper has always been difficult, but the Bureau has some new techniques. We’ll just have to see.”

  “What about the number?”

  “JR’s working on it.”

  Stephanie smiled.

  ***

  “What can you tell me about the phone number?”

  JR shook his head. “Not much.”

  “Why?”

  “Remember the Bureau couldn’t trace the call you received?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I use this type of technology all the time. The phone number was web-based and forwarded any calls to another predesignated number. Pretty sophisticated for 2002.”

  “So, in other words, he gave her a number that switched her call to a hidden number.”

  “Yeah, it’s a little more complicated, but that’s a good explanation.”

  “So, what do you think?”

  “Whoever this guy is, he was ahead of the game with computers.”

  Kruger pursed his lips. “Like someone who knows network and routing systems.”

  Nodding, JR was silent for a few moments. “Yeah, like someone familiar with routing systems. What little we have to go on continues to point toward Haylex Solutions, doesn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid it does.”

  “Now what?”

  “I think it’s time I spoke to Robert Burns.”

  JR smiled. “Before you go, you’ll need as much background on the company as possible.”

  Putting his hand on JR’s shoulder, Kruger smiled. “That’s your job.”

  Chapter 11

  Seattle, WA

  Sean Kruger shook the extended hand of Haylex Holdings, Inc. head of security after showing his FBI credentials.

  “Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Moody.”

  “Call me Joel. I thought you retired after the incident in Fayetteville, Arkansas several years ago.”

  �
�Urban legend.” Kruger did not feel the need to discuss his personal life.

  Moody smiled. “Do you remember Byron Hall from Provo, Utah?”

  “I do. A good man, enjoyed working with him. Although the circumstances were a little grim.”

  Kruger’s thoughts flashed back to the murder of eight young homeless women in Provo. Byron Hall was the Chief of Police who had called in the Bureau for help. It was Kruger’s first encounter with FBI Agent Franklin Dollar. When the seventh victim was found, Dollar arrested a homeless man and claimed the case was solved. It wasn’t. Two days later, with the homeless man in custody, an eighth victim was found. Kruger, with the help of Chief Hall, identified the real killer as one of the detectives investigating the murders.

  Kruger continued. “Do you know him?”

  “He’s a cousin on my mother’s side. I see him every year at Christmas. He speaks highly of you.”

  This gave Kruger pause. Moody knew too much about him. The incident in Fayetteville generated a tremendous amount of media coverage and was understandable. But his involvement in Provo was not generally known. Apparently, Moody made some inquiries after Kruger made the appointment.

  Kruger smiled. “How is Chief Hall?”

  “Retired.”

  “Good for him.”

  They were sitting in Moody’s office at a small conference table in the corner. Moody folded his hands in front of him and looked Kruger in the eyes. “What can I do for you, Agent?”

  Understanding the niceties of the meeting were concluded, Kruger returned the stare. “I’m re-opening an investigation the Bureau closed twelve years ago.”

  Moody did not respond.

  “Over the course of four years, six college-aged women disappeared. Their bodies have never been found. Four of them held scholarships on the basketball teams of their respective schools.”

  Moody did not move or make a comment. Kruger recognized it as something an experienced interrogator would do.

  Kruger continued. “Recently, new evidence has been discovered about the circumstance of their disappearance.”