by Lisa Harris
Twenty-Five
Detective Randall agreed to meet them at a small bistro in downtown Denver. Jonas hoped that they’d get something out of talking to the man, but after all the time he’d spent scouring Barrick’s files, he wasn’t counting on gaining any information that would actually lead them to the fugitive.
Barrick’s mom had confirmed his theory that her son was trying to get out of the country instead of trying to disappear within the US, but they still needed something more specific. Ideally, they’d find a way to capture him before he left the country, but even if they missed him, their search wouldn’t be over. Not by a long shot. As US Marshals, their jurisdiction wasn’t limited to the fifty states. It wouldn’t be the first time that Jonas had worked with the law enforcement community abroad to bring a fugitive back to US soil.
“I used to eat here at least once a week.” Jonas sat across from Madison at one of the quiet restaurant’s back tables while they pored over the menus and waited for Detective Randall to show up. “Think of it as upscale street food.”
“Well if the smell is any indication of the taste, it’s going to be fantastic.” She set her menu down. “What do you recommend?”
“They have the best toasted ham and cheese sandwich you’ve ever tasted. And their fries are also delicious.”
“Sounds good.” She took a sip of her iced tea. “That’s what I’ll have.”
“That was easy.”
“I’m hungry and it all sounds good. You saved me from having to decide.”
“I think I’ll take the same then.”
He signaled the waiter and placed their orders before turning back to her.
“How are you feeling?” he asked once they were alone again.
“Shoulder’s better. I won’t have to sleep in the middle of the wilderness tonight, and I’m about to try the best ham and cheese sandwich I’ve ever tasted.”
“Not a bad day if you look at it that way.”
“The day’s going to end even better if the detective really does have a way to find Barrick.”
“I hope he does.” He hesitated before continuing. “Speaking of the detective, before he gets here, there is something else I wanted to ask you. I’ve been thinking about the anniversary of your husband’s death a few days ago. I guess I want you to know if you need to talk about it, I’m here. I might not have any answers, but I’m a pretty good listener.”
“I’m sure you are, and I appreciate it. I really do. I usually have my sister to talk to about things like this. She’s great at putting up with me no matter what my mood. All of this has been a distraction.”
“But doesn’t help with closure. You probably should have taken the day off.”
“I usually do. But I wouldn’t be right here right now.”
“What was different this year?”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought I should be to the point where I can get through the day without letting his death consume me.”
“Would it be so bad if that day didn’t ever come? If you let yourself feel instead of running.”
“Wait a minute.” She took another sip of her tea. “Am I talking to the same Jonas Quinn who pushed me through my training until I thought I was going to crack? The same Jonas Quinn students call Terminator behind his back?”
“Hold on.” He set down his Dr Pepper. “They call me Terminator?”
“I think most would see that as a compliment. I always did. I knew you were tough and would push me harder than I thought I could go. It’s what I wanted.”
Jonas shook his head as the waiter arrived with their food. “We’re going to have to talk about this Terminator thing, but I do try to show my soft side every now and then.”
As the waiter was walking away, Detective Randall showed up, carrying a briefcase and looking like he hadn’t slept. “Sorry it took so long for me to get here.”
“No problem. We just got our food. Would you like anything?”
“I had an early dinner,” he said, taking one of the empty chairs at their table. “But, please, go ahead and eat.”
“Jonas Quinn and Madison James,” Jonas said, shaking the man’s hand. “We appreciate your calling us.”
“Of course. Like I said on the phone, I’d been after this guy for eighteen months before he was arrested.”
“So you were one of the detectives working his murder case?”
“Tracked him from here in Denver to Seattle where he was arrested. The man should be in for life, and instead he’s managed to disappear.”
Jonas locked eyes with the detective. “That will happen when we find him.”
“If you find him, which very likely you may never do.” Detective Randall shook his head. “You don’t know Barrick like I do. The man’s not only a charmer, I’m convinced he’s killed more than the couple he was arrested for shooting. I was just never able to prove it. And now he’s escaped, meaning he could get away with this.”
Madison grabbed the saltshaker and sprinkled it over her fries. “Not if we have anything to do with it.”
“That’s why I wanted to talk with you. Everyone has that one case that never got solved that you can’t let go of, you know? That one that despite the evidence or lack thereof, you know who did it. You just can’t prove it. Barrick was that case for me.”
A memory rose to the surface as Jonas bit into his sandwich. He knew. He’d been a beat cop at the time. The hardest part of his job had been handling domestic violence disputes. He’d never forget her name. Angel Sanchez. He and his partner had answered three 911 calls from neighbors to her apartment, but every time she promised them she was fine. That there had been a misunderstanding. But he knew the truth. Saw the bruises. But without her cooperation and no real evidence, there was nothing else he could do. Two weeks after the last call, they found her dead in her apartment. It was eventually ruled that a mixture of sleeping pills and allergy pills had slowed her reaction time and she’d fallen down the stairs in the middle of the night.
He knew it wasn’t true. And her boyfriend had gotten away with murder.
It was the constant motivation that made him determined to bring guys like Barrick down.
“I went ahead and brought you copies of my files.” Randall pulled a thick folder from his briefcase, bringing Jonas back to the present. “Trust me, I’ll do anything to catch this guy.”
“You said you were after him for more murders?”
“The cases are officially closed, but I know he’s killed more than he’s charged with. I just haven’t yet been able to conclusively prove it.”
Madison tapped her finger against the red folder. “None of that was included in the brief we received.”
“I’m not surprised. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get the DA to move ahead. And now, from what I understand, someone else is dead.”
“And you’re still working the case?” Jonas asked.
“I am. Unofficially.” Randall flipped open the file. “Barrick is a con man. A grifter who has swindled hundreds of thousands of dollars from at least three women, probably more. And I’m convinced he killed at least two of these women on top of the couple he was arrested for killing.”
“Is there any chance he’s as innocent as he claims?”
“None. He’s good at what he does. That’s why I want him brought in as much as you do. Before this happens again.”
“If he’s behind other murders,” Madison said, “why are the cases closed?”
“Because he’s that good. I told you, we could never find enough evidence for the DA. But I’ve interviewed the families of these women extensively. Stephanie Phillips, who supposedly committed suicide, wasn’t depressed.” Randall pulled out a photo of the woman smiling up at the camera from what looked like a hiking trail. “She’d just finished running the Boston Marathon, was on the board of several nonprofits, and helped run her family’s NGO.”
Madison scooted to the edge of her chair. “Families never want to believe someone they lo
ved killed themselves.”
“I know, but there were no signs of depression or anxiety. She was looking forward to her best friend’s wedding and a trip to Switzerland in the fall.”
“Madison’s right,” Jonas said. “People are good at hiding those things from people they love.”
Randall’s frown deepened. “Maybe, but I’m telling you, Stephanie didn’t kill herself.”
Madison leaned forward. “And you believe Damon Barrick did.”
“I know he did.”
“How?”
“The evidence I do have suggests he conned these women until they got wind of his plan and more than likely would have gone to the authorities and turned him in, something he couldn’t let happen. Murders were staged. Clearly premeditated.”
Jonas glanced at Madison, then back at Randall. “What else do you know about these women?”
Randall pulled out a photo of a second woman and slid it toward them. “Daisy Porter. Forty-two years old and heir to the estate of her late husband, who was worth ten million dollars. Died five years ago. She met Barrick at a fundraiser for one of the local hospitals. They dated for six months. When interviewed, close friends said they started noticing that she was giving Barrick expensive gifts, but he made her happy, so they dropped it. Then one night she was killed during a home invasion. There was over two million dollars in jewelry and artwork stolen. The perpetrator knew not only where the safe was but also the code.”
“So his motivation for killing the women?”
“My guess is to silence them once they discovered he was just after their money.” Randall shook his head. “Here’s my advice. Take the next couple hours to go through my files and see if what’s here convinces you. Barrick’s going to need a source of money in order to disappear completely.”
“So you think he’ll go to someone he knows so he can get enough cash to disappear.”
Randall nodded.
Jonas leaned forward. “Something tells me you have someone in mind.”
“I do.” Randall flipped over another photo. “A few months before he was arrested, he started seeing a woman by the name of Bianca Carleton. She has a luxury condo in downtown Denver and a large home up toward Aspen.”
“Tell us about her.”
“Like the other women, she’s wealthy. Her father owned a line of jewelry stores, though she’s stepped out of the business side of the company, leaving her brother to run them. She spends most of her time volunteering for various organizations. Her husband died a little over a year ago, and she met Barrick through a mutual friend. She never made any public statements after his arrest but did talk exclusively to the police.”
“And?”
“She’s convinced he’s innocent, for starters, but told us that she broke things off with him shortly before he was arrested. At least that’s her story.”
“But you don’t believe her?”
“There’s really no way to know if she was telling the truth. I was told that he sent her letters from prison, but that he never received any from her. I always felt, though, that she was still in love with him.”
“So if Barrick was to come to town, what are the odds that he approaches her? Or maybe the more important question, would she actually help him if he did?”
“I believe she would,” the detective said. “There’s a good chance that he’s already contacted her for money, and trust me, he’ll say whatever he needs to in order to get what he wants.”
“Have you ever heard of the Zookeeper in connection with Barrick?”
“The Zookeeper?” Randall seemed to search his memory. “No. Where did you hear that?”
“Barrick’s mother.”
“Sorry, but I don’t know.”
Jonas wiped his hands on his napkin, his dinner still mostly untouched, then caught Madison’s gaze. “We can go through these files tonight, then we need to pay Bianca Carleton a visit in the morning.”
Twenty-Six
Bianca Carleton owned a condo in downtown Denver between Larimer Square and Coors Field. With twenty-four-hour concierge staff, a valet, and a fitness center, it was a place for the wealthy to enjoy living in the city without having to deal with any of its inconveniences.
Bianca was the perfect mark for Barrick.
Madison had gone over the extensive file Detective Randall had given them with Jonas until well after midnight. But before they’d finally called it a night, she’d come to a conclusion. Randall was right. There might not have been enough concrete evidence to bring charges against Barrick for the murders, but she was now—like Randall—convinced he was guilty. From what they’d uncovered in the files, there was a definite pattern to Barrick’s behavior, and Bianca Carleton was the key to executing his escape.
Jonas pulled into a parking spot beneath the building, then turned off the engine. “You didn’t talk much on the way here.”
“Sorry. I’ve just been thinking. And honestly, that hotel coffee didn’t quite give me the jolt of energy I was hoping for.”
“Four nights of interrupted sleep. Why am I not surprised? I’m already thinking about taking a couple days off when this is over. I’m going to find myself a little place to rent overlooking Puget Sound, where all I have to do is fish and read.”
“A couple days?” She let out a low laugh as she slid out of the car. “I’m putting in for at least a week.”
But until they found Barrick, she was going to have to put aside any thoughts of time off.
Jonas held the door for her and they walked across the large lobby before flashing their badges at the concierge, who was busy with something on her computer.
“Jamie,” she said, reading the woman’s badge. “We’re US Marshals.”
Jamie’s eyes lit up. “Like Matt Dillon?”
Jonas cleared his throat. “Yes, but he was . . . um . . . he was a fictional character.”
“My father used to love Gunsmoke. I watched it with him sometimes before he died. We’ve had FBI officials stop by, but I’ve never met a marshal.”
“We’re actually here to see Bianca Carleton. She’s expecting us.”
“Bianca. Of course. She called down a few minutes ago. Said to feel free to take the elevator up to the fifth floor and that she’s waiting for you.”
“Thanks. We do have one other question before we go up.” Madison held up a photo of Barrick. “Have you seen this man here before? Possibly visiting her as well?”
“I’m not sure.” Jamie leaned forward. “We’re really not supposed to discuss the comings and goings with anyone.”
“She’s not in any trouble. We’re here to make sure she’s safe, actually.”
“What is he?” Jamie asked. “Some kind of stalker?”
“Not exactly, but it is very important.”
She bit the edge of her lip. “He was a guest of Mrs. Carleton, but it’s been a while. And he was always the perfect gentleman. At least from what I saw. She seemed genuinely happy with him, but if he’s dangerous . . .”
Madison handed her a business card. “He is wanted by law enforcement, so if he happens to show up, please call me.”
“Of course. He just seemed so . . . so nice.” Jamie’s gaze flicked toward the elevators. “And please, don’t tell her I said anything to you about him.”
“Of course not.”
A minute later, Madison stepped into the fifth-floor hallway with Jonas, then searched the door numbers to find the woman’s upscale residence. Mary Margaret had been willing to do anything for this man. The question now was if she was the only one, or if Bianca had succumbed to his charms as well.
“Mrs. Carleton,” Madison said once the woman had opened the door. “Thank you for seeing us.”
“Of course. Please, call me Bianca.”
Bianca Carleton was fifty-three, according to the information they had, and from what Madison could see, her youthful look was expensive—bleached-blonde hair, a few rounds of plastic surgery, and perfectly manicured nails to finish off
the image.
She followed Bianca through the entryway with Jonas right behind her.
“Come on in and sit down. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“We’re fine. Thank you.”
Madison stopped at the window before sitting down on the couch, pausing for a few seconds to take in the one hundred and eighty–degree view of the city. “This is beautiful.”
“I know. My late husband and I bought this condo for the view, though it can’t quite compare to the property up in Aspen.”
“You own a condo there as well?” Jonas asked.
“A house on top of Red Mountain.”
“Wow,” Jonas said. “Those views have to be stunning.”
“They are, and I love the place. It’s just a bit too big when you’re there alone. I find myself spending more and more time here in the city, something Jim and I didn’t do when he was alive. He always wanted to be outdoors, away from the city. It just starts to feel so isolated.”
“I can imagine.” Madison sat down next to Jonas on the couch, facing the wall of windows. According to the bio they had on the woman, she also had a home in Florida and a condo in Belize. “We’ll get right to the point. As I said on the phone, we need to talk to you about Damon Barrick.”
“You’re here because you think he’s after my money.”
“Yes, actually.” Madison was surprised at the woman’s statement.
“Well, as I’m sure you know, he’s in prison, so it’s not as if he could hurt me at this point, even if that were true.”
“Mrs. Carleton—”
“Bianca, please.”
“Bianca,” Madison continued, “I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news, but he recently escaped from a prison transport, and we’re looking for him.”
Bianca’s eyes widened. “I heard he was scheduled to come back to Denver for trial at some point, but no, I didn’t know he’d escaped.”
Madison leaned forward. “We know he has a way of convincing women, wealthy women, for a piece of their checkbook.”
“I’m sorry, but I find that completely insulting.” Bianca stood up and faced the window for a few seconds before turning around. “I admit, I had a relationship with the man, but he’s been in prison. Do you really think I have any desire to affiliate myself with a man like that? I might be lonely, but trust me, I’m not that lonely.”