by Robin Mahle
“What she said,” Fisher pointed to her and smiled.
Sievers and Quinn stepped out and the four started toward the driveway of the suburban home. Fisher walked beside the detective. “I appreciate you doing this.”
“He’s an interesting guy.” Sievers thumbed back at Quinn.
“Ah yes, but he’s damn good at his job. And so is she.” Fisher eyed Kate who trailed slightly. “There’s still the question of whether Wylder’s even here.”
“We should get an answer on that in a jiffy,” Sievers replied.
Quinn moved in next to Kate. “I’m glad you’re here. I think it’s a good idea.”
She regarded him with mild suspicion. “I wouldn’t have expected to hear that from you, all things considered.”
“Yeah, well, I know how to concede when I’m wrong.”
Fisher turned back to his junior agents. “I don’t know what we’ll find in there, if anything. So I suggest you both have your weapons ready.”
Sievers knocked on the front door. “Mr. Wylder, NYPD. We have some questions for you.”
A curtain blowing through an open window on the second floor caught Kate’s eye. “He’s here.”
“If he won’t answer, we can’t just bust in there without cause,” Quinn said. “We need to find a cause.” He started toward the garage that was below grade, and peered through the windows as best he could, but they were obscured glass.
“I’ll give it one more time.” Sievers knocked again as he turned his sights from Quinn back to the front door. “Mr. Wylder? NYPD. Open up.” He looked back to Fisher. “Well? Any ideas?”
Kate set her sights on Quinn who still skulked around the home in search of something to possibly use to give them reason to enter. “Unless he finds something, I don’t know what we can do without a warrant. I thought he’d be here. We’ve checked his residences, his workplace. Where else could he be?”
Sievers’ phone buzzed and he peered at the caller ID. “Hang on, it’s one of mine. “Franklin, we’re here at the Wylder home, but…” He stopped cold. “What’s that? Okay. We’re going to see what else we can find here and then head your way. Thank you for the heads up.” He ended the call and looked to Fisher. “Wylder’s car was found wrapped around a tree a few miles from here.”
“Is he there? Is he alive?” Kate asked.
“No one was there. Both doors of the Mercedes were open, but no one was inside. My guys are there combing the scene to locate any survivors. It’s surrounded by woods, so maybe they, whoever ‘they’ are, got out and tried to go for help.”
“Something’s not right,” Kate said.
“You’re telling me.” Fisher again turned his sights on Quinn. “I don’t know what the hell he thinks he’s going to find. Maybe you should go over there and show him how it’s done?”
“Therein lies the problem,” she replied.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. It’s not important right now. Let me go see if he’s found anything. Otherwise, I think we’re screwed.” Kate walked over to the side of the house where Quinn stood. “Any luck? We got no answer at the door and turns out, the cops just spotted Wylder’s car on the side of road, wrapped around a tree.”
“And?” Quinn’s interest piqued.
“No one’s there. The consensus is there were two people inside, likely with injuries. That’s all we know right now.”
“Where does that leave us?” Quinn asked.
“You tell me. Anything stand out to you that we can use to bust down that door?” She surveyed the area where he stood.
“I don’t see anything unusual and now with this, I don’t know where we stand. It doesn’t look good, though.”
“It does not.” She turned and looked at the garage door. “You couldn’t see inside?”
“Windows are frosted glass.”
“Right.” She walked to the driveway and looked for signs of forced entry around the door. “Doesn’t look like anyone tried to get in.” And then she stopped and cocked her head. “What’s this?” Kate crouched down near the corner of the door where it rested on the driveway.
“What is it? What do you see?” He quickly approached her.
“Tell me that doesn’t look like blood to you?” She pointed to several microscopic drops of blood that looked like they lay just underneath the door itself and then within inches of the driveway.
“That looks like blood. How the hell did you see that? I’ve been standing here for the past ten minutes looking for something.”
“You just needed a fresh pair of eyes. That’s all,” Kate replied.
“Sure.”
“What matters is what Fisher has to say about this.” She stood back up and called out to him. “Fisher, come take a look at this.”
He started toward them. “Did you work your magic again, Reid? I knew we could count on you.”
It was as if Fisher was commenting on purpose, knowing it would annoy Quinn. She cringed at the accolades because it was exactly the reason Quinn had gone off the rails. He couldn’t handle someone being better than he was, even if she didn’t really believe that herself. Whatever gift was given to her that allowed her to see the minutia was a gift he didn’t possess and it was what had really caused the riff between them. “This looks like blood spatters. Don’t you agree, Quinn?”
“Yeah. What she said.”
He was angry and while that shouldn’t concern her any longer, given what she knew about him, it still did. Deep inside, she wanted his approval. He was the better profiler, for now, and she did still stand to learn from him, but at this point, it didn’t seem like that was going to be possible.
Fisher leaned over and placed his hands on his thighs. “Yep. Looks like blood to me. That’s all I need.” He pulled up again and started back toward the door. “We’re getting inside this house, Detective. Found some blood over there by the garage. Between that and the accident down the raid, well, we have cause.” Fisher brandished his weapon and knocked a final time. “Wylder? FBI. We’re coming in.”
As the others joined him, Kate looked on figuring he was about to smash a window. “You sure this is how we play this? You remember what happened in Boston.”
“What? So we get into a little bit of trouble. We have blood on the ground and a missing actor whose car is hugging a tree. We have enough. I’m going in. So, are you all with me or not?”
“Don’t need to ask me twice,” Sievers replied.
I’m with you,” Quinn said.
Kate eyed the others. “I guess that means I’m in, too.”
“That’s what I thought.” Fisher raised the butt of his gun to the glass insert in the door. “Here we come, ready or not.” He smashed the glass and it shattered in front of him. An alarm sounded as he reached inside to unlock the door. “That’ll bring the cops for sure. We won’t have much time to look around before they come in and contaminate everything. No offense, Detective. But those guys won’t be from your precinct. We should split up and see what we can find.”
Fisher walked inside and stepped on the broken shards until making his way to the alarm keypad. “Shut up!” He ripped it off the wall and when that didn’t work, he shot at it. “That should do it.”
The three made their way inside and it didn’t take long for Quinn, who was headed left, to spot the body.
“Oh shit!” He rushed toward Wylder who lay on the sofa appearing lifeless. “Hey! Wylder’s here. He’s in here!”
Kate, Fisher and the detective dashed to the living room. Kate approached Quinn. “Please tell me he’s still alive.”
Quinn checked for a pulse. “He’s dead. Looks like he sustained internal injuries. Look at his chest and stomach. They’re purple.”
“Damn it! What the hell do we do now?” Fisher paced the room. “Where’s his accomplice? Was he the driver?”
“We don’t know.” Kate returned upright and started back into the hall. “We need to clear the house and find any detail we can about wher
e the other man went. I guarantee you, Wylder didn’t make it back here alone.” She stopped. “I hear the sirens.” Kate steered through the extravagant home. “FBI. Anyone here? Identify yourself.” Her raised voice echoed as she walked atop the dark wood floors, peering around the grey walls into every room. She walked purposefully, intent on finding something that would tell them where the other one went.
A voice or something like a voice drifted toward her. Kate stopped on a dime. “FBI. Is someone here?” She shouted again and moved toward the sound. “Hello? Keep talking. I can hear you. I’m coming.” It was clear the voice was from someone in trouble. She prayed it was the fixer. That would put a tidy bow on this case and it would be all over.
She stopped at a tall white door that appeared different than the rest. Slighlty thicker, heavier looking. She tried the handle, but it was locked. “Shit. Hello? FBI. Is someone in here?”
Through the door, a muffled voice was barely audible.
“It’s okay. I’ll get you out of there.” She scanned the area for a key or something that could help her open the door. “Hey!” she turned and shouted. “I need some help back here!”
Fisher and Quinn appeared only moments later, weapons drawn.
“There’s someone in there.”
Fisher studied the door. “It’s a panic room. We aren’t going to get inside without the key.”
“We have to. I think there’s a woman in there. Could be the missing girl,” Kate replied. “Hang on. She’s trying to talk. I think her mouth is covered. “Can you try to speak up? Please. We can’t get in the room.”
Quinn placed his ear near the door. “She’s trying to say something. Damn it. I can’t hear her clearly.”
“She knows where the key is,” Fisher said. “I can shoot the lock, but this thing looks military grade or some shit.”
“She must be gagged.” Kate faced the door. “Where’s the key?” She listened and tried to understand the woman. “Where? I’m sorry, you have to try to speak slowly and as loud as you can.” She pressed her ear against the door. “The key. It’s in a fireproof box.” She turned to the others.
“You mean this box right here?” Sievers approached with a metal box in his hand. “Found this is the master bedroom.”
“Set it down.” Fisher aimed his gun and fired. The box kicked up off the ground and popped open. “That should do it.”
Kate reached for the key.” I’ll get her out. You three need to keep looking. If we let the accomplice go, we’re screwed. Wylder couldn’t have put her in here with his injuries. It had to be the other guy.”
Fisher held Kate’s gaze. “You’ll be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I just need to see what condition she’s in and if she knows where the fixer went.”
26
The numbers didn’t lie. Back at Quantico, Walsh had found a match. The phone call made to Mason Wylder’s cell matched the number that had been found on the records from the Rio calls made to both Gustavo Varela and the member of the AdA. And now, maybe Agent Cain didn’t need to make the deal with the devil because none of that mattered any longer.
Walsh snatched the papers and hurried to Scarborough’s office. “I got it.” He waved them around. “I found the match. We now have proof that the man in Rio who was seen at the burial ground is the same man who was in contact with Mason Wylder and Gustavo Varela.”
Scarborough appeared reticent. “Wylder’s dead.”
Walsh advanced with guarded steps. “What’s that now?”
“Fisher just called. They found Wylder on his sofa, apparently having died from injuries sustained in a car accident. One in which another was involved. And a woman was found inside his panic room, bound and gagged. Reid was searching the corridor to clear the house when she heard a noise. They got her out, but it took some work. The woman explained that Wylder’s assistant, Scott Brooks, put her in there and left.”
“He’s the one who did Wylder’s dirty work,” Walsh said.
“That’s right. And now that you have proof, looks like we’ve got ourselves an accomplice on the run.”
“And a dead serial killer.” Walsh’s gaze shifted as he appeared to consider their next play. “Do we take this to the public? Get eyes on the ground for us?”
“That’s one way to go.”
“But you’re not so sure?” Walsh added.
“We’re dealing someone with ties to powerful government officials in Rio and maybe beyond. He could be using those connections as we speak to find a way out of the US. Initiating a media blitz might expedite his plans.”
“The killer is dead,” Walsh replied.
“Yes, it certainly looks that way.”
“Maybe that’s what will work in our favor.” Walsh raised his index finger. “Hear me out. What if we use what we know right now to pin the murders on this Scott Brooks? Suggest that we have a team in Rio that is receiving cooperation from officials to ensure he doesn’t enter the country.”
“I like the sound of that. Go on,” Scarborough said.
“If this guy thinks he’s going to take the fall for what his boss did, he might have second thoughts about fleeing.”
“He must understand that he’ll still face a lifetime in prison for his part. He has no opportunity for a plea bargain when the killer is already dead.”
“Good point. Regardless, say we find him. We convince him that by giving us the names of the Rio officials he received help from and the names of the AdA members, he’ll get a more lenient sentence. Maybe even just a few years for cooperating in a sting to oust corrupt Brazilian officials.”
“Can we do that?” Scarborough asked. “We would need assurances from the CIA, the State Department and a host of other officials. CIA Officer Lambert insisted we wouldn’t be able to touch the Rio government.”
“We just need to convince this man that it’s either he gives us names, or he will face a lifetime on the run. He’ll run out of money and friends. He’ll have no place to turn and his plans for a plea bargain will be out the window.”
“Okay. I get where you’re going with this. The question is, how do we communicate this to him? We have to find him first.”
“We have phone records. We know how to reach him, either through the people who helped him or the AdA.” Duncan walked into the room.
“And here’s our woman of the hour,” Walsh said. “Without her help, we wouldn’t have gotten this far.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” She patted him on the back before adding, “So we attempt to make contact. The question is, who are the people who helped? Given what we have right now, there’s no question we’ll get cooperation from the DOJ regarding warrants on Brooks’ property and Wylder’s property here in the US. But that will only tell us so much. We need Cain to search Wylder’s property in Gávea. If there are people who helped him, and we know he had to have a few, then Scott Brooks will likely reach out to them for help. We get a message to them. Cain’s going to have to be our point man on this one.”
Scarborough considered her plan. “I’d sure as hell like to find him before he leaves the country. There’s still a slim possibility of that. But I’ll give Cain a heads up and test the waters.”
Fisher walked into the living room where Kate waited with the woman who had been Wylder’s housekeeper. “How’s she holding up?” He pushed around the toothpick in his mouth awkwardly.
This nervous habit of Fisher’s was something Kate often used to understand his moods, and, in this instance, it revealed that how sorry he felt. “She’s okay.” Kate turned her attention to the middle-aged woman who had a slight paunch and thinning gray hair. “And you’re sure there’s nothing else you remember Mr. Wylder saying, or Mr. Brooks?”
“I came to the door and Mr. Brooks let me in. I knew something was wrong as soon as I got inside. He had wild eyes. I thought he was on drugs.”
“Mr. Brooks—Scott?” Kate asked.
“Yes. Then I saw Mr. Wylder and I knew then,” she sho
ok her head. “I wasn’t going to be allowed to leave.”
Fisher moved in and squatted in front of the woman to meet her at eye level. “Mr. Brooks put you inside the room. Did he say anything at all that might suggest where he was going?”
“No. Nothing. He just left and no one can hear you inside there. It’s a terrible place. I only know that Mr. Wylder wasn’t the same when he came back from Rio this time.”
“She doesn’t know anything else.” Kate stood up. “We’re going to have to make a move or risk letting Scott Brooks disappear for good. What did Scarborough say?”
“He was going to get with the others and put together some ideas. We should hear back from him soon.”
Quinn entered the room. “Brooks can’t have gone far, but the longer we wait, the more chance we have of losing his trail. I didn’t find anything that might suggest where he would go. I can only think, based on what we know of how things went down with Wylder, I have to think Brooks played a big part in causing the accident. He wasn’t injured, at least not badly enough that he couldn’t escape on his own. According to Sievers, the car showed no signs of mechanical failure, tire failure. Nothing. It appears to have been human error.” He turned to Sievers who had returned from the scene. “Isn’t that right?”
“It’s shaping up to be that way.”
“It’s possible he intentionally crashed,” Kate said. “Brooks might have been fearful Wylder would get caught.”
“He must’ve gotten tired of cleaning up the messes. And then when Wylder started acting up here, that was probably the final straw,” Fisher said. “That must’ve been the moment he realized Wylder had gone off the deep end and couldn’t be contained.”
“Let’s get her to a hospital to get checked out,” Quinn began. “Then we should head back to the precinct and formulate a plan. We don’t have much time before we lose our window.”