“What’s the hold-up on the Gracemount cases?”
“They’re still looking for them.” Tina rolled her eyes.
“What? How can you lose autopsy reports?”
“Apparently they are having a problem with their network and files have been corrupted or something. I don’t know.” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “I don’t buy it. I think someone messed up and forgot to enter reports and now they’re blaming technology. When in doubt, say the computer did it.”
Jess frowned. “What about the warrants for computer and phone records for the victims?”
Tina sighed. “I have warrants for all the out-of-state ones. Those went through like that.” She snapped her fingers to demonstrate her point. “But the District of Columbia is being a pain in my neck. None of those warrants have been granted.”
“None of them? Hmm.” Unease spread throughout her body, settling in the pit of her stomach. Something felt off. “No autopsy reports and the warrants haven’t been granted. That’s quite a coincidence. It sounds like we’re being stonewalled.” It sounded paranoid even to her, but she couldn’t think of any other explanation.
At that moment Chan walked in with Milligan and Jamison behind him. “Ooh, a conspiracy. You know I love those.” Chan handed her a Styrofoam cup from the Coffee Kiosk.
“I didn’t say there was a conspiracy.” She thought it but she wouldn’t say it because she didn’t need anyone else questioning her mental health; she had that one covered. “Thanks for the coffee.” She already had a coffee but she would never turn down another.
“So, what’s going on?” Chan asked.
Tina briefly summarized what they had been discussing.
“Interesting. I’d say that sounds like some grade-A obstruction.” Chan took the lid off his own coffee and added three packets of sugar to the beige-colored concoction. He put in so much cream and sugar that it was coffee in name only.
“Or incompetence with a side of bureaucracy. Judges want to be on the right side of the law. The last thing they want is to have a warrant challenged and have the case collapse because everything that is found is fruit of the poisoned tree,” Jamison said.
Chan’s nostrils flared but he didn’t say anything to challenge Jamison. The antipathy between the two of them simmered just below the surface, ready to explode. When it did, it would be Chan losing it, because Jamison was too in control. Chan would be like a raging toddler swinging at his father’s knees.
“I do have some promising news though,” Tina said. She stopped when the door opened and Agents Scott and Smart walked in.
They weren’t supposed to be here. “Can I help you?” Jess asked.
Scott spoke for them. “Director Taylor has asked for an update.”
“And he forgot my number?” she asked before she managed to stop herself. She didn’t have the right to take out her shit day on anyone else, but if Taylor had any regrets about assigning the case to her, he could take it up with her himself, not send people to keep tabs.
“I guess he thinks it should be all hands on deck.” Again, it was Scott who spoke for them, indicating he was the dominant personality. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please keep going.”
Tina looked over at Jess for approval before she continued. “I was just saying that despite the lack of cooperation from anyone in DC, we have a very interesting lead thanks to Jess’s quick thinking by securing Levi Smith’s laptop.”
A look of surprise flashed across Scott’s face but it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a faint if not forced smile. “Excellent.”
“Jeanie was right about Levi’s password. We found an Instagram account connected to his email address. That is where he connected with the curator.”
Jess tried to shrug off the sudden onslaught of sadness but she couldn’t. Her mind flashed to Jeanie, her insistence about Levi, how she really knew him. But she hadn’t, not the demons he’d failed to tame. Maybe no one knew anyone. “Jeanie was sure he didn’t have social media,” Jess said.
“Well, he did. He wasn’t all that active but he did have an account and he used it to play the suicide game. I have gone through all the correspondence between him and the curator.” The keys clicked as she typed and the screen at the end of the conference room lit up. “As you can see, he completed all the steps of the game.” She clicked to enlarge a picture. “Here we have a picture of the first time he was asked to self-harm.”
A graphic photo filled the screen. The deep cut ran from his wrist to his elbow, intersected by a shorter slash to form a cross. Blood was smeared over his wrist from the torrent of blood. What the hell? In an instant, her sadness turned to disbelief. Her mind raced, searching for an explanation. Those marks weren’t present on Levi’s body when she viewed it at the crematorium. Jess’s neck snapped up to look at Jamison.
“Who is that?” Jamison pointed at the screen.
“What?” Tina looked up from her computer. “It’s Levi Smith. It’s from his account. He sent it to the curator.”
“I can see that, but it’s not him,” Jamison said.
“Who else would it be?” Tina’s eyebrows knitted together in question.
“That’s not Levi. He didn’t have any cut marks anywhere on his body,” Jess said.
Scott held up his hand. “With all due respect, you saw the body for what, thirty seconds? How can you say with any certainty it’s not him?”
Jess’s back straightened at the challenge. She didn’t mind being questioned, it was vital to the iterative process, but she objected to the incredulity that dripped from his tone. She was many things, but incompetent was not one of them. “First of all, I would have to be the least observant agent in the history of the FBI to not notice a ten-inch gash carved into the flesh of a dead child. Second of all, Agent Briggs and I re-examined his body and there were no injuries, recent or healed, anywhere on him.” She stood up and walked over to the screen to make her final point. “Third, that arm is the wrong color. Levi was pale and blond. The hair on his arms was almost white. This kid has tan skin. Look at this black hair.”
For a long moment, no one spoke as they examined the picture for themselves.
“Yeah, it’s not him,” Chan said. For the first time in the history of their working relationship, he agreed with Jamison.
“But if it’s not him, who is it?” Milligan asked.
“I don’t know,” Jess admitted. The unease she felt earlier amplified, spreading through her, insidiously pushing out all reason in its path. She couldn’t think rationally. It didn’t make sense. None of this did.
“He obviously faked it,” Scott said with complete certainty.
Jess’s head snapped up to look at him. She was open to all suggestions, even stupid ones, but there was no room for hubris. Over the course of any investigation, they got things wrong far more than they got them right. She needed people around her that had the maturity to understand that and park their egos at the door. “Have you ever seen a dead body? I’m not talking about a great-aunt laid out in her casket.”
Scott shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with the question—or, more precisely, the answer.
“The color and the viscosity are consistent with real blood: see the way it has coagulated here and here?” She pointed to the screen. “Obviously I can’t say with any certainty if it is indeed blood but what I can say is that we can’t rule it out.” She turned to Tina. “Can you please run an image search and find out if Levi downloaded the image from somewhere else?”
“Yeah, I’m on it.”
“Great, thank you.”
“Why would he fake the self-harm but still commit suicide? That doesn’t make sense to me.” Milligan shook his head.
“Me either.” For once she appreciated Milligan’s propensity for being their very own doubting Thomas.
“Clearly, he was dubious of what was going on, at least at the start,” Jamison said.
“He definitely was.” Tina
looked up from the keyboard. “That was what I wanted to say I found on his computer. There were emails to Eric Beauchamp, Sam Peterson, and Jason Davenport where he tells them he is really scared, I’m guessing about the game. The weird part is that he sent the messages to them after they had already committed suicide.”
“What?” Milligan’s voice rose high in question. “That’s insane.”
“Shit! No, it’s not.” Jess held her hand up. “Gracemount Academy didn’t tell the students about the suicides, so Levi wouldn’t have known. Sorry, I was going to send a memo to tell you all about our conversation with the principal.”
Chan pulled out his phone and pointed it at her. “Don’t mind me. I just want to document this occasion, the day Jess Bishop forgot to update us on something. It took ten years but I knew it would happen.”
“Ha ha, very funny. Sorry, it just slipped my mind.” A rush of panic flooded her. She tried to smile but the muscles would not comply. Chan was right. It was not like her to forget anything. She sent several updates a day with even the most mundane development, just so she could be sure they were all on the same page.
“Okay, that makes so much more sense.” Tina clicked on another box and opened another page. “I thought he had gone crazy or had some sort of existential crisis and was pretending his friends weren’t really dead to cope. Their emails make so much more sense now in light of that. This is the first one he sent to Eric Beauchamp after he died.”
Hey Eric, where are you? I’m worried. I’m really scared and I need to talk about it. I’m really freaking out over here. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. Please call me, even if it is to say you don’t want to talk. I just need to know you’re okay.
“What was he scared about?” Milligan asked. “Is he talking about the suicide game? Did he ever say?”
Tina shook her head. “He never specifically mentions the game but he talks about being scared a lot. He sent more or less the same email to Sam and Jason too after they died.”
“What about Ryan?” Jamison asked. “He was the first one to die and we know from Jeanie he was one of Levi’s best friends.”
“Um… no. I don’t think so. I don’t think I found any emails to Ryan. But he did mention him in an email to someone, I think. Let me see if I can find it.” The keys clicked as Tina typed. “Where are you? Nope, not there.” She closed the folder on her computer and then opened another. “Sorry, I don’t know where I put it.”
“That’s okay. You can find it later. It’s probably not relevant anyway,” Scott said.
Jess’s eyes widened in surprise. She turned to look at him. He had been with the team less than five minutes and he was already trying to call the shots. She was about to say something when Tina said, “Oh, there you are. Sometimes my organizational systems are a bit too complicated for me. It’s like when you hide something away in a really great place and then you promptly forget about it. Never mind, here it is.” She clicked on a tab and another email appeared.
Hey Jason, I’m really scared. I want someone to talk to. I wish you would write me back. I’m really worried. I can’t sleep or eat. I just want to run away from everything. I can’t do this anymore. I just want it to stop. I saw Ryan’s mom yesterday. I just froze. I couldn’t move or talk. It was like someone pushed pause. I was stuck. Luckily, she didn’t see me. Please write back and let me know you’re okay. Please. I’m begging you, man. I can’t do this anymore. I just want this to all be over. Is there an over? I don’t even know anymore.
“Shit, that looks a lot like a suicide note,” Chan said.
Jess nodded. A now familiar pressure built behind her eyes but she ignored it and the ache in her chest. Desperation radiated from his words. His pain stabbed at her. She understood it, that inescapable darkness. It was a place she had been fleeing from with varying degrees of success since she was a child. Her mind traveled back to the first time she had felt the bleakness: his small body naked and bleeding on the floor of her basement, her father standing above him, the blades of the circular saw spinning so fast they blurred into a haze of motion.
“Jess,” Jamison’s deep voice called.
She blinked, realizing that she had been a million miles away. “Sorry, did you say something?”
Concern was written on his dark features. “I asked if you think the writing is consistent with a suicide note.”
“Um…” She looked at the screen. She should know this. She did know this but her mind wouldn’t work. It was a simple question. She had almost finished a PhD program in psychology. She had studied the lexical choices of suicide notes. She knew this… but she couldn’t remember anything. “Yeah,” she said because she needed everyone to stop looking at her, and they did—everyone except Jamison. His dark brow knitted together in concern.
Heat spread through her from the scrutiny.
“What does the part about Ryan’s mom mean? Why was he scared of her?” Milligan asked. Again, the question was directed at her. All questions were now directed at her. The pressure of it was like a weight around her neck, slowly dragging her down. She was made to take orders not give them. She was a foot soldier not a general.
She took a deep breath to clear her thoughts and then silently reread the email, searching for an answer in the context clues. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “We need to speak to her. We need to find out what he meant by that. Jamison and I will do that. Chan and Milligan, I need you to speak to the parents of the other boys. They’re all out of state so you’re going to need to pack up. Tina, can you please get the flights organized?” She paused for a second, trying to remember what else she needed to get done. Jeanie usually took care of everything behind the scenes, all the tedious administration and bureaucracy so they could focus on catching killers.
Tina gave her a gentle smile. “I’m on it.”
“We’ll help Tina with the traffic analysis,” Scott said.
Jess gave him a hard stare. She had to bite the side of her mouth to keep from snapping at his presumptuousness. She took another deep breath and reminded herself that she didn’t need to like her co-workers, they just needed to work together to find the person responsible for the suicide game.
Fourteen
Jess turned down the car radio and looked over at Jamison. She had spent the best part of twenty minutes thinking about what she wanted to say, how to phrase it so she didn’t sound like someone who thought the Soviets were sending her messages through a little man in a transistor radio. “Lynette Hastings really doesn’t want to speak to us. She couldn’t put down the phone fast enough. Are you sensing a theme?”
“Does anyone ever really want to speak to us? We’re federal agents.”
“True.” Her shoulders slouched as she turned back to look out the window at the evergreen trees that lined Skyline Drive. She wished she could go back to the way things used to be with them before he had gone undercover, before he had married someone else… before she had shot him. Because that was a time she could tell him anything, but the reality was she wouldn’t have told him about what happened this morning. Maybe some things were just too upsetting to say aloud.
“What do you think Levi meant when he said he was upset about seeing Mrs. Hastings?” Jamison asked.
“I don’t know.” She couldn’t think properly. She tried to clear her mind and focus on the case but all she could think about were the inconsistencies and coincidences that marred it. It all felt staged, which was crazy.
“What are you thinking about?”
“What?”
“I’ve known you a long time, Jessie. What’s going on?”
Before she could answer, her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was Tina. She slid her finger along the screen to answer. “Hey. You’re on speaker. We’re about an hour away from Lynette Hastings’ work.”
“You might want to make a detour.”
“Why?” Jamison asked.
“I think we found the curator. He made a mistake. He accidently logged on via an u
nsecure server and we’ve traced the IP address to a hunting lodge in West Virginia. Property records show it was purchased two years ago by Jim Iverson.”
Jess’s pulse spiked. “The psychologist at Gracemount Academy?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
Her gut clenched in a painful spasm. It made sense: the bad advice he gave the school, covering up the suicides.
“Chan and Milligan are at Dulles about to get on a flight to San Francisco. Should I tell them to meet you at the hunting lodge?”
Jess thought for a second. “No, they’re already on their way. I think we have enough to get a warrant for Iverson’s house but we’ve had shit luck with judges on this case so I won’t count our chickens. Call the field office and get SWAT to meet us. Hopefully Mr. Iverson will play nice, but if not, I want backup to take him in.”
“Okay. I’m on it.”
“Good job tracing it, Tina. That’s really great work.”
“Actually, it wasn’t me who spotted it. It was Scott.”
Jess rolled her eyes. “Of course it was.”
Fifteen
The drive through the Blue Ridge Mountains belonged in a scene in a snow globe. Everything was covered in white. The branches of the eastern hemlocks bowed under the weight of the snow. Several had already snapped but the thick blanket made it look bright even though the sky was dark.
They had chains for their tires ready to go but luckily the main roads had been plowed and gritted that morning; a new snow was falling and the roads would soon need to be plowed again.
“When this guy gets away from it all, he really gets away. This is the back of beyond,” Jamison said.
“Yeah, he doesn’t want people bothering him, that’s for sure,” she agreed. “The nearest supermarket is forty miles away. State police are meeting us there to serve the warrant.”
Catch Your Death Page 9