The Cold Trail

by J. C. Fields

  “I was afraid of that. Are you sure?”

  “Confirmed by HR.”

  Robert Burns Sr. stood and paced the small room. He was silent as he placed his right hand under his chin and supported the arm with his left hand. “What else does the FBI know?” he finally asked.

  The statement concerned Moody. “All I gave them was the edited list.”

  “Good.”

  The room fell into silence again. Moody watched as the older man stared at the carpet as he paced. After what seemed like an hour, but was only a minute, Burns stopped pacing and faced the desk. “If the FBI requests any additional information on Junior’s activities during his tenure at Haylex Solutions, please refer them to the company’s attorneys.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m very serious about this, Joel. No one in this organization is to speak with the FBI in the future. All inquiries are to be directed to our legal department. No exceptions.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Good.”

  Without another comment, Burns turned, walked out of Moody’s office, and closed the door behind him.

  Joel Moody stared at the closed door, resisting the urge to immediately stand and open it. Taking a deep breath, he retrieved the business card given to him by Sean Kruger from the top drawer of his desk. He committed the number to memory and then placed the card in the shredder he kept under his desk. He would have to find an untraceable landline later after leaving the office for the evening.

  ***

  Kruger glanced at the caller ID and the time on his vibrating cell phone. He frowned. It was past nine in the evening, and the area code was unfamiliar to him. He answered on the fifth ring.

  “Kruger.”

  “Agent Kruger, this is Joel Moody with Haylex Holdings. I apologize for calling so late.”

  “Not a problem, Mr. Moody. What can I do for you?”

  There was silence on the other end for an extended period. Finally, he heard, “I have been informed by our CEO that any additional inquiries about employees of Haylex Solutions or any affiliate of our corporate entity, Haylex Holdings, will need to be made through our corporate attorney’s office.”

  “I see.”

  “I appreciate your understanding.”

  “Mr. Moody?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you calling me late at night from a number unassociated with Haylex or yourself?”

  “You’re an intelligent individual, Agent Kruger. I am sure you can infer the reason from the message I was told to relay.”

  “Very well, Mr. Moody,” Kruger chuckled. “Message received.”

  “Good. Have a nice evening, Agent.”

  The call ended, and Kruger smiled to himself.

  Chapter 15

  Springfield, MO

  “Alan, even though our evidence is circumstantial, the call from Moody last night leads me to believe we’re on the right path. Everything we know right now points to the newly elected senator from Washington State as a person of interest in the abductions.”

  After spending the night thinking about the call from Moody, Kruger waited until the following morning to call Alan Seltzer. Kruger continued, “My guess would be the senator-elect’s father is concerned about our inquiry.”

  “Is he involved someway?”

  “Not sure, but he’s taken a lot of drastic measures to keep his son out of trouble.”

  “Sounds like attorneys are involved.”

  “Probably, but there’s something else going on.”

  “What?”

  “I think Moody is hiding something.”

  “Isn’t he their head of security?”

  “Yes.”

  “There you go. He’s the company’s spokesperson.”

  “Then why did the call originated from a land line not associated with Haylex? If he wasn’t at the office, why not use his personal cell phone?”

  “Maybe neither were available.”

  “In this day and age, Alan? You can’t get away from phones.”

  “Are you reading too much into how the call was made?”

  “Maybe. The call originated from a pay phone. Why?”

  “Do those still exist?”

  “A few still do.”

  “How do you know about the phone?”

  “JR placed an app on my phone a year ago. I know where every call I receive comes from, even if it’s spam.”

  “Got it.”

  Kruger was silent for a few moments.

  “Alan, the only explanation for using a pay phone is he didn’t want the company to know he called me.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “I want to put Robert Burns Jr. under surveillance.”

  “Not sure the Seattle Field Office should be involved at this stage, Sean.”

  “I agree. At this time the local agents don’t need to know what we suspect. We need more evidence before we bring them in.”

  “You can’t do it by yourself. Who do you have in mind, or should I ask?”

  “I’d like Sandy Knoll involved.”

  “Call him. I’ll send authorization for him to report to you until you have the evidence you need or you determine nothing’s there.”

  “Thanks, Alan.”

  ***

  “Great to hear from you, Agent, it’s been awhile.”

  Retired Army Major and now an FBI Rapid Response Team leader, Benedict “Sandy” Knoll held the cell phone tight to his right ear and faced away from the firing range.

  “Yes, Sandy, it has.” Kruger heard gunfire in the background on Knoll’s end. “Is that weapons fire in the background?”

  “Qualification day for several team members.”

  Knoll was a large man now in his late forties. As a retired Special Forces Major, he still had the physique of a man in his twenties. Bulging bicep muscles stretched the material of his tan t-shirt, which was tucked into desert BDU pants. The pant legs, in turn, were tucked into dessert combat boots laced tight. The man’s dark blond hair was worn short, but not as short as his military days. With a face weathered and lined from too many years in the Middle East and an unlit cigar clenched in his teeth, he resembled a Hollywood cliché. He was not.

  Kruger spoke a little louder, “Have you heard from Deputy Director Alan Seltzer?”

  “Yes, sir. Looking forward to working with you again.”

  “I have a favor to ask.”

  “Name it.”

  “Can you include Jimmy Gibbs?”

  “He’s already packed and sitting on his duffle bag.”

  “Thanks, Sandy. See you tomorrow.”

  When the call ended, Kruger sat back in his office chair and swiveled to look out the window behind his desk. Placing an elbow on the chair’s arm rest, he rested his chin on his hand, an index finger covering his mouth. His eyes tracked a squirrel outside munching on an acorn from the large oak tree in the front yard. His thoughts were not about the squirrel, but about how to bring a predator, who had eluded identification for almost two decades, to justice. He needed one more person on his team before he started executing his plan.

  ***

  “Remember when you said you wouldn’t work with the FBI unless I was involved two years ago?”

  JR Diminski smiled and nodded.

  “I’m asking you to team up with me again.”

  Diminski continued to smile, but remained quiet. They were sitting in a conference room on the second floor of his office building in the southwest part of the city. The walls were glass, which kept the room from feeling claustrophobic, but allowed sound proofing by the use of double paned windows.

  “I’m putting the old team together.”

  Nodding again, JR looked at Kruger. “What about Joseph?”

  “He and Mary are in New Zealand.”

  “Oh.” JR fell into silence.

  “Are you interested?”

  Another nod.

  “You’ll be designated an independent contractor.”

 
; “I will be personally?” JR’s body tensed and his forehead crunched together.

  Kruger shook his head. “No, your company.”

  JR visibly relaxed. “Okay, good.”

  “So, are you interested?”

  “Do I have to answer? Of, course I am. I’ve missed the action.”

  Kruger smiled. “Thought you would, but I needed to ask.”

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  Glancing at his watch, Kruger looked back at JR. “Sandy and his team landed twenty minutes ago. When they get here, I’ll bring everyone up to speed.”

  ***

  An hour later, Sandy and Jimmie Gibbs entered the conference room. Kruger was pleasantly surprised by the appearance of an additional individual. FBI Agent Ryan Clark smiled as they shook hands.

  “When did you join Sandy’s group, Ryan?” Kruger asked.

  “About a month ago.”

  At one time, Clark was a detective with the Arlington, Virginia, Police Department. He and Kruger had worked together several times over the past twenty-five years, most notably investigating the Beltway Sniper in October 2002 and a case four years ago when they chased a group of assassins across the United States. Clark was wounded while protecting then-Congressman Roy Griffin. After his recovery, Kruger lobbied the director to make him an agent. Since then, Clark had made a name for himself within the agency.

  “Outstanding.” He turned to the big man and shook his hand. “Good decision adding him to the team, Sandy.”

  “I thought so.”

  Kruger found Jimmie Gibbs and offered his hand. As they shook, he said, “Glad you could join our little soiree.”

  Where Knoll was built like a bodybuilder, Gibbs’ physique was lean like a swimmer, a sport he excelled at. He currently held several Seal Team records for endurance and distance.

  After retiring from Seal Team Six, he allowed his black hair to grow long. He normally wore it in a ponytail extending past his shoulder blades. Being from Southern California, his usual dress was surfer casual: cargo shorts, linen shirt and sandals. Blue eyes rounded out his handsome features and contributed to the tales of his womanizing, a myth he claimed was more urban-legend than reality. Knoll prized Jimmie’s pose and level-headedness during missions, especially when events turned sour for the team.

  Gibbs grinned, “Wouldn’t have missed it, Sean. Glad to hear you’re back.”

  Smiling, Kruger motioned for the group to find seats in JR’s conference room. He noticed Clark smiling at JR and shaking his hand. The conversation was not audible from where Kruger stood. He took a seat and waited for all the parties to join him. “Thank you for coming, Sandy.”

  Knoll nodded.

  “Since we all know each other, let’s get started.”

  Sandy Knoll started with a question. “Give us some background and your objectives, Sean?”

  “Six women were abducted during the years of 1999 and 2002. Their bodies have never been found, nor has a suspect been identified.” He paused for a few seconds. “Until now.”

  Clark stiffened, Knoll frowned, and Gibbs smiled. JR picked up the narrative.

  “Using a variety of…” he paused briefly, “methods, Sean and I have determined a person of interest in these kidnappings is a newly elected senator from the state of Washington.”

  Knoll’s team frowned in unison.

  Clark tilted his head. “How?”

  JR explained their process.

  Knoll nodded, remarking, “Works for me.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement. Kruger took over. “What we have right now is a lot of circumstantial evidence and a significant amount of conjecture. I received a call from the head of security for Haylex Holdings explaining how any additional requests for company records would have to go through their attorney’s office.”

  Clark nodded. “That would seem to be a prudent step on their part.”

  “I agree. However, he called from a pay phone.”

  Gibbs frowned. “Do those even exist anymore?”

  JR chuckled. “Yes, a few still do.”

  “What is significant about calling from a pay phone, Sean?” Knoll was leaning forward with his large arms flat on the table, fingers intertwined, and his brow furrowed.

  “Glad you asked. I believe he was making sure no one at Haylex Holdings could check their phone records about him initiating the call. He’s a retired cop and, I believe, an intelligent retired cop.”

  JR placed his elbows on the table and made steeple with his hands. “Checking phone records is simple these days. With cell phones and computer linked phone systems, getting call records is a matter of obtaining a computer readout. If you want to make sure a call doesn’t appear on a printout somewhere, a pay phone is your best bet. There are computer protocols available to get around a call being recorded into a database, but you have to know what you’re doing. As an ex-cop, even though he works for a high-tech company, my guess would be he doesn’t have that skill set.”

  Nodding, Knoll sat back in his chair. “Why call you in the first place?”

  “I believe he was sending a message. In a roundabout way, he even said so.”

  Gibbs twisted the Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hands clockwise. “He was letting you know you’re closer than you think, wasn’t he.”

  “Yes, I believe he was.”

  “Why do you need us, Sean?” Clark gestured to Knoll and Gibbs.

  “We are going to place Robert Burns Jr. under surveillance.”

  Everyone in the room was quiet.

  Knoll grinned. “You could have had the local Seattle field office do that, Sean.”

  “The Deputy Director doesn’t want them involved at the moment, and neither do I. If we find our information about Junior is incorrect, we simply leave and no one will know the senator-elect was suspected. I don’t believe that will be the outcome. However, it’s better to be careful, just in case.”

  Ryan Clark asked, “What about this Moody character? Where does he fit in?”

  “Since I’ve had previous contact with him, I’m going to be following him. My plan is to contact him away from his work and home. I’m hoping he will cooperate.”

  Everyone nodded.

  “One more concern.” All eyes were on Kruger. “There’s a chance the father knows the truth about his son. I believe he’s been protecting Junior for years and will prove to be a well-financed foe. In addition, he’s spent a lot of money getting Junior elected. It could get dicey when he discovers our investigation is closing in.”

  Gibbs chuckled. “We can be dicey, too, Sean.”

  “That, my dear Jimmie, is exactly why I want you guys working with me.”

  Chapter 16

  Seattle, WA

  Three Days Later

  The bedroom was dark. The only sound in the room was his wife’s gentle breathing next to him. Normally, during sleepless nights, all Joel Moody had to do was listen to her, and he would fall asleep. Not tonight.

  With his hands behind his head, he stared at the barely visible ceiling illuminated by a nightlight in their master bathroom. Taking the job with Haylex Holdings was enhancing his financial situation after spending twenty years with the Seattle Police Department. But the conflict he now felt renewed his original doubt about working for the older Robert Burns. He knew the younger Robert Burns was dangerous. But when FBI Agent Kruger started asking questions about the younger Burns’ whereabouts from 1999 to 2002, his worst fears were confirmed.

  Seventeen years had passed with no hint anyone suspected the son. Now the FBI was asking questions. Moody knew the truth. He also knew secrets about the disappearances no one else knew, including the younger Burns. Those secrets needed to remain hidden. Hidden from both the father and the son. More importantly, hidden from the FBI.

  Somewhere around three in the morning, an idea started to form. Ten minutes later, Moody fell into a restless sleep.

  ***

  Kruger watched as Joel Moody backed his car out of the modest Sammamis
h, Washington, home driveway. The house was tucked away in an area dominated by mature native trees. The neighborhood was quiet, residential, and family friendly, a typical home for a cop. Moody’s five-year-old Ford Fusion also told Kruger the head of security for Haylex Holdings was not exploiting his new position with the corporation. A good sign.

  This was his second day of following the retired detective, his patterns not yet discernable. If he followed the same route as the previous day, he would stop at a local Starbucks and go inside, forsaking the long line at the drive-thru. If the pattern continued, it was the perfect spot to get the man alone.

  The following day, Kruger sat inside the Starbucks when Moody walked in. Their eyes locked, and Moody gave Kruger a half grin. When he received his coffee from the barista, he approached Kruger’s table, hesitated briefly, and sat down.

  “This isn’t a coincident, is it, Agent?”

  “No, I wanted to talk to you away from your home and office.”

  Moody glanced at his watch. “I’ve got twelve minutes. What’s on your mind?”

  “Your call last week raised a few questions the FBI needs answered.”

  Silence was his response.

  “Was Robert Burns Jr. at the colleges when the women disappeared?”

  Moody did not look at Kruger, but nodded.

  “All of them?”

  Another nod.

  “Can you get me proof?”

  “No, not without raising suspicion. But I can point you in the direction you need to go.”

  Kruger tilted his head. “Why are you helping us, Detective?”

  Moody leaned forward over the small bistro table and spoke quietly. “Because Robert Burns Jr. is a dangerous man, Agent. I’m a law enforcement officer first, and he needs to be put away. I’m not in a position to do it, nor do I have the authority anymore to do it myself. Robert Burns Sr. is a powerful man in this town. He’s a rich ex-senator and extremely philanthropic toward the arts, which means he’s well liked. Within the Seattle power structure, he has a stellar reputation as a man above reproach. In addition to all of this, he’s over protective of Junior.” He stood, but continued to study Kruger. “My wife is at a ladies church function tonight. I assume by your presence you know where I live. Be at my house at six this evening. Come alone.”