by J. C. Fields
The pistol spat with a muffled sound, and the head of Robert Burns Jr., snapped back and then slumped forward. Blood trickled from the small hole in the center of his forehead.
The dark-haired man returned the pistol to his sport coat pocket and looked at the man sitting next to the door. He was still reading the newspaper and paying little attention to the execution of Robert Burns Jr.
“Clean up the mess and make sure his head is sealed in an airtight bag before you FedEx it to the father.”
The larger man stood, nodded, and folded his paper before placing it on the seat of the chair.
Chapter 41
Seattle, WA
Two Days Later
Sean Kruger opened the back door of the agency pool car and threw his overnight bag onto the back seat. After slipping into the front passenger side of the car, he turned to the driver.
“Thanks for picking me up, Jimmie.”
“No problem.”
Gibbs pulled the car away from the passenger pick-up lane curb and accelerated toward the airport exit.
“Did you see it?”
Gibbs nodded.
“Who called?”
“Burns’ secretary. She was, uh…” He paused for a second. “Beyond hysterical.”
“What about the father?”
“He’s the one who opened the package. It was addressed to Senior and had ‘Your Eyes Only’ stamped all over it.”
“Where’s Burns now?”
“Local field office has him in protective custody. His attorney encouraged him to take the offer. He’s shaken up and wants to speak to you and only you.”
Kruger frowned. “Why?”
“Don’t know. He won’t talk to Sandy or me.”
“Where is the package?”
“Lab.”
“Other than not having a body attached, were there any wounds?”
“Twenty-two caliber hole in the center of his forehead.”
Nodding, Kruger turned and stared out the front window. “Damn, we may never find the women now.”
“Maybe Senior knows.”
Tilting his head slightly, he turned to Gibbs and mused, “You think…”
An hour later, Kruger walked into a starkly furnished room containing an eight-foot table and six folding metal chairs. The walls were bare and painted a shade of cream bordering on dirty. It smelled of human sweat and cigarettes. There were no windows. Robert Burns Sr. was pacing in an open area near the far wall. When he looked up, he frowned.
“Why did it take you so long to get here? I’ve been stuck in this horrible place for over twenty-four hours.”
Kruger didn’t answer. He just stood next to the table and placed a file folder in front of a chair.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“Why did you want to talk to me, Mr. Burns?”
Taken aback by the FBI agent’s refusal to answer his question, Burns snorted. “I would think it obvious. The death of my son.”
Sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the table, Kruger opened the file. “Why do you think your son was executed and his head sent to you in a FedEx box?”
“Isn’t it your job to answer questions like that, Agent?”
Looking up from the file, Kruger kept a neutral expression. “Perhaps. But I think you know why. It will be my job to find the individual who did it. Now sit down.”
Burns narrowed his eyes and put his palms flat on the table across from Kruger. “How dare you speak to me that way. I’ll have your badge.”
Shaking his head and sighing, Kruger took out his cell phone and pressed an icon.
The voice of Robert Burns Sr. was heard trying to bribe the FBI agent.
Burns’ eyes grew wide. “You recorded a private conversation without my permission.”
“Put a sock in it, Burns, and sit down.”
“That’s a violation of my rights.”
Narrowing his eyes, Kruger glared at the elder Burns. “Do you know what the penalty for attempting to bribe a federal agent is, Mr. Burns?”
“How dare you imply I was bribing you…”
“SHUT UP AND SIT DOWN.”
Burns’ eyes were now like saucers, but his expression softened, and he sat.
“I’m used to being in control of the situation, Agent. At the moment I’m not. I apologize.”
Kruger clasped his hands together and tilted his head to the left. “Good, now we can talk.”
Nodding his head, Burns placed his hands in front of him and studied the top of the table. Kruger stared at the man. In that moment, he realized Burns had never faced a situation he could not control. It was a new and uncomfortable experience for him.
In a less confrontational tone, Kruger asked, “Mr. Burns, why would someone execute your son?”
“Sins of the father, Agent. Sins of the father.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Should I have my lawyer present?”
“Your choice, but you are not currently charged with anything. Has anyone read you your Miranda rights?”
Burns shook his head.
“Then there is no need for your attorney, unless you would feel more comfortable with one present. I’m trying to establish why someone would execute your son, that’s all.”
Folding his hands together in front of him and turning his gaze toward the ceiling, Burns took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Bobby was always a problem. I don’t know if it was the fact I was never at home or that his mother died when he was three. I couldn’t keep a nanny for any length of time to care for him because he was always in trouble.”
“How so?”
“Acting up in class, not paying attention. Normal behavior for a bright bored young boy.”
“I understand he had a high IQ?”
Nodding, Burns continued, “He was gifted with an IQ of 151. That’s in the top one percent, Agent. Once they found this out, he was moved into classes more challenging. His behavior changed a little, but he didn’t understand how to socialize with people. He found them…” He sighed. “Not sure how to say this correctly.”
“It’s just the two of us here.” Kruger had failed to tell Burns the conversion was being recorded.
“He thought of most people as inferior.”
“Including women?”
A grim smile appeared briefly. “Especially women. That was why I had a hard time keeping a nanny.”
Kruger nodded.
“He started Stanford on his seventeenth birthday. Things were fine. He enjoyed the challenging classes, finally dealing with people he felt were his equal.” He paused. “During his first semester, he was invited to a fraternity party. He drank too much and assaulted a young woman.”
“What happened?”
“As you know, Agent Kruger, I am extremely wealthy.”
Kruger nodded. “So I’ve been told.”
“I made my first of multiple mistakes with him. I paid his way out of trouble.”
“As a father, we’re allowed mistakes raising our kids.”
“Do you have a son, Agent Kruger?”
“Yes.” As was his habit, he never elaborated about his family.
“Then you understand how we want to protect them.”
“Yes, I understand.”
Burns studied the ceiling tiles again. Kruger thought he saw moisture in the corner of his left eye. After blinking rapidly, Burns returned to watching his clasped hands.
“As I told you, it was my first of many mistakes with Bobby. The young lady transferred to another school where I made sure her tuition was prepaid and a trust fund set up. I understand she’s a doctor now.
“Anyway, I hired an ex-Army sergeant who was starting a security company. He was charged with keeping Bobby out of trouble. That lasted for a while, until Bobby graduated early and came to work for me at one of my technology companies. He was barely twenty-one and designing revolutionary computer equipment. The company’s stock soared, and he became rich in his ow
n right.
“I thought his trouble with women was in his past. I was wrong.”
“What happened?”
“Joel Moody happened.”
“Excuse me?”
Burns nodded. “Joel Moody was a Seattle vice cop. He caught Bobby with a hooker who was barely alive. He recognized who he was dealing with and brought him to me, instead of arresting him.”
“So that was the connection?”
“Yes, that was the connection. I then made my next horrible mistake. I paid Moody to watch over my son and keep him out of trouble. This was when I decided I needed to become a senator. Another mistake in hindsight.”
Kruger frowned. “So Joel Moody was keeping tabs on your son while you ran for the Senate. When was that, Mr. Burns?”
“I started in 1998, won the election in 2000, sworn-in during a ceremony on January 3, 2001, and started serving the citizens of Washington for the next twelve years.”
“Where was Bobby during this time?”
“I am sure you know by now what he was doing.”
“I have some suspicions. Why don’t you confirm them?”
“He was running Haylex Solutions and helping to install student accounting software at various colleges.”
“Yes, I was aware of that.”
“Are you aware that Joel Moody traveled with him?”
Kruger felt a jolt of energy with the confirmation, but kept his expression neutral. “No.”
“He did. You also probably know that Bobby’s tastes changed at this time don’t you.”
A quick nod was Kruger’s only response.
“Joel Moody had made connections with some rather unsavory Russians in Seattle. He was taking money from them to look the other way while they smuggled in young girls in from China, Thailand, and Vietnam. Moody is a greedy man, Agent Kruger. He doesn’t act like it, but he is.”
“When you said Bobby’s tastes changed, what are you referring to?”
“Don’t play naïve with me, Agent. You know perfectly well what I mean.”
“I’m a little slow sometimes.”
“Bobby started hurting the women he was with. Moody cleaned it up.”
“By hurting, what do you mean?”
“Rape. Beating. Erotic asphyxiation. Worse. You name it, Bobby was doing it.”
“What was Moody’s role in this?”
“He got them to the hospital and paid them to keep quiet.”
Kruger leaned back in his folding chair and stared at the older man, finally understanding.
“Mr. Burns, how much money did Moody receive to pay off the women?”
“Anywhere from five hundred thousand to a million each, depending on the circumstance.”
“Why did you do that, Mr. Burns?”
“Bobby’s contributions to the company were generating profits one hundred times that amount, Agent.”
“So, Bobby hurt them, Moody took care of them, and you paid them off. Does that summarize it, Mr. Burns?”
The elder Burns nodded. “I’m not proud of it, but it kept the company profitable.”
Kruger took a deep breath and pushed his anger deep within himself. He stood and paced for a few moments. Burns continued to study his hands as Kruger paced. After a few minutes he returned to his chair and sat down.
“Mr. Burns, the women Bobby attacked have never been found. They were not taken to a hospital, nor were they reunited with their families. They simply vanished without a trace. Moody used part of the money to hire men to dispose of the bodies and then pocketed the rest.”
Kruger stood again and walked toward the door. He paused to say, “Think about that for a few minutes while I consult with my team.”
Burns stared at the door after the FBI agent left. The revelation about the victims of Robert Burns Jr. and his part in those events caused him to bend over and violently start retching.
***
Kruger walked straight to the men’s room and bent over one of the sinks. While he was splashing cold water on his face, Sandy Knoll walked in. He leaned against the wall and watched his friend settle down.
“Do you believe him?”
Nodding, Kruger stared at his own image in the mirror. He barely recognized the face gazing back at him. The hair was grayer and the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced.
“Yeah, I do. All the pieces fit. It helps explain the ten million dollars JR found in an account owned by Moody. Plus, Junior’s insisting the Ramos woman was alive when he left. It makes sense now. He never tried to kill any of them. He just hurt them and walked away.”
He turned to look at Knoll. “Did Moody kill them and the Russians dispose of the bodies? Or did Moody just turn them over to the Russians?”
“That’s a good question. Wish I had an answer.” He paused for a moment as he judged the current state of mind of his friend. “There’s been a development in Moody’s disappearance.”
“About damn time. What?”
“Moody’s wife was detained by TSA as she went through security at Denver International. She had a ticket to Grand Cayman. Denver field office has her in custody.”
“Any sign of him?”
Knoll shook his head.
“Is she talking?”
“No, says she’ll only talk to you.”
Kruger shook his head. “What is it with these people? Can’t they talk to anyone else?”
Smiling, Knoll chuckled. “It’s because you’re so likable.”
“Funny, Sandy, very funny. Let’s get to the airport.”
Chapter 42
Denver, CO
Denver County Sheriff’s Department Building
Kruger studied the passport he held in his hands.
“Betty Norman. Huh. It looks real.”
FBI Special Agent Marcie Kincaid from the Denver field office stood next to him while he examined the passport. Stocky and several inches shorter than Kruger, her medium-length brown hair was tied in a ponytail. Kincaid was a twelve-year veteran of the Bureau. Kruger had met her two years prior during the hunt for serial killer Randolph Bishop. She stood silently with her hands behind her back as she waited for Kruger to finish with the document.
She pointed to the various entry stamps and observed, “Best one I’ve ever seen.”
Nodding his head, he closed the booklet. “Any sign of the husband?”
Kincaid shook her head.
Looking through the one-way glass, he watched the woman fidget as she sat in one of the interrogation room chairs.
“She looks nervous. Did she make a statement?”
“No.”
“Has she asked for a lawyer?”
“Not yet. She makes eye contact, says she’ll only talk to you, and then looks away.”
“Wonder what that’s all about? I’ve never met her.”
Sandy Knoll walked up behind Kruger and announced, “Just finished looking through her luggage.”
Turning to look at the big man, Kruger asked, “Anything unusual?”
Smiling, Knoll nodded. “Three bundles of hundred dollar bills and her real passport.” He handed the passport to Kruger.
Taking it, Kruger returned his gaze to the woman in the room. “Thirty thousand, huh. Wonder what that was for.”
Knoll also looked at the woman. “An extended stay overseas, maybe?”
Kruger placed both passports into his inside breast sport coat pocket. “Marcie, would you accompany me?” he asked.
She nodded, and they walked toward the interrogation room door.
Beverly Moody looked up as Kruger and Kincaid entered the room. Her eye narrowed as she stared at him. “Are you Sean Kruger?”
Kincaid stood by the door as Kruger scooted out the chair across from the wife of Joel Moody. She was of average height, unnaturally skinny, and wore her straight brown hair short. Her green eyes looked weary. The wrinkles on her forehead and next to her eyes screamed stress.
Sitting across from her, he removed the passports from his sport coat. Pl
acing them on the table, he answered her question.
“Yes, I’m Agent Sean Kruger, Ms. Moody.”
“Finally. Why am I being detained?”
Smiling, he tapped the fake passport. “Violation of US Code 1543, use of a forged or false passport.”
She blinked several times.
“It’s a felony with a prison term of ten to twenty-five years, depending on your purpose for it. Was the thirty thousand dollars for a drug purchase, Ms. Moody?”
Remaining quiet, she continued to stare at Kruger and blink rapidly.
“Do you wish to have a lawyer?”
She shook her head as she lowered her gaze and studied the tabletop. “No, I’m tired of the charade.”
“What charade?”
“The lie I’ve been living for the past twenty years.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Are you going to arrest me?”
“Not yet. If you lie to me, I will. But for now, no. I want the truth about Joel Moody.”
“Where do I start?”
He smiled. “The beginning is always a good place.”
“Can I have a cup of coffee?”
Kruger nodded.
Twenty minutes later, after she was escorted to the restroom and given a fresh cup of coffee, she sat still while grasping the Styrofoam cup with both hands. Kruger placed a digital recorder on the table and pressed the record button.
Kruger spoke first. “Statement of Beverly Moody, Denver County Sheriff’s Department, Denver, Colorado.” He stated the date and looked at her. “For the record, will you state your real name?”
“My real name is Gayle Patterson. I’ve been living under the name Beverly Moody for the past twenty years.”
“Why?”
“Originally to avoid being arrested for drug smuggling, then because I liked the lifestyle Joel provided.”
“So you weren’t married?”
“I’m not sure. When we got married, he didn’t let me use my real name. I guess we aren’t really married, are we?”
Kruger only shook his head.
“Joel had a crush on me. Why, I don’t know. He told me he was a plainclothes cop for the Seattle PD when he caught me the first time. I had sex with him, and he let me go, minus the drugs, of course.”