Stalked

by Allison Brennan

  Noah said, “Fill me in on everything you know, and we’ll go from there. Start with Dominic Theissen. Hans told Stockton last night that he wanted to look at his accident.”

  The comfort in reciting facts calmed Lucy and turned her mind from Hans to the job.

  “Theissen got in the middle of a fight at a subway station in Queens and was pushed onto the tracks. The police ruled that it was involuntary manslaughter. Sean and Agent Suzanne Madeaux in the New York office are pulling the files on it.”

  “And Theissen was the media officer during the McMahon investigation.”

  “Correct. And he was friends with Rosemary Weber. Bob Stokes was a Newark cop when Rachel McMahon went missing, and Weber’s main contact for her book, in addition to Theissen.”

  “While you were flying, Sean said Stokes came to talk to Weber after Theissen’s funeral. He died of a heart attack the next day.”

  “Sean doesn’t think it’s a coincidence and neither do I. But to poison someone means that the victim trusted the killer, or the killer knew the victim’s routine well enough to slip poison into their food or drink.”

  Lucy continued, “We also don’t know whether Rosemary Weber’s murder was linked—it’s the odd crime. Theissen was ruled an accident, Stokes and Tony natural causes, why was Weber stabbed to death in an obvious homicide? In addition, poison is a predominantly female method of killing, while stabbing is male. There are exceptions, but few. Under any other circumstances I’d think they were unconnected, but the four individuals are linked by only one event.”

  “The Rachel McMahon homicide.”

  Lucy nodded. “It’s why Sean is looking for Peter McMahon. Before Tony died, he said he wanted to find him. He led me to believe it was simply to make sure that he was doing okay in light of everything that has happened in his life. But now I wonder if he suspected something after Weber was killed.”

  “That McMahon grew into a killer.”

  Lucy didn’t say anything. “It’s suspicious that he’s fallen off the grid.”

  “The FBI is looking for him, too.”

  Lucy glanced at Noah. “My money’s on Sean.”

  “Mine, too. But don’t tell him I said that.”

  Lucy smiled. She was relieved that Sean and Noah seemed to have developed a truce.

  “The timing would make sense as well. When Rachel was killed, Peter McMahon was nine. Old enough to understand, but too young to feel he had any power over events. Everything was done for him, he was lied to; he was coddled, he was protected, but he was also old enough to know what was going on with his parents, and old enough to know what happened to Rachel. His grandmother took him away and shielded him from the worst, but when he was fourteen two pivotal events happened—at the worst psychological time. Weber’s book came out, and his grandmother died. He was sent to live with his mother, but ran away a year later. When he returned, he went to live with his father, but that didn’t last and he became an emancipated minor at sixteen. Went to college at SU, but Sean could find no record of him graduating. In fact, the last six years there is no record of Peter McMahon or Peter Gray—the two names he used.”

  “You’re thinking the now is solved because he feels old enough to do something about it and he’s mature enough to plan out meticulous crimes,” Noah said. “Sean said that Tony made a stop on his way to the airport—he went back to Rosemary Weber’s house and asked her sister if Weber had said anything to her about being stalked.”

  “What if Tony felt he was being followed?”

  “Sean and Suzanne are trying to find out if Tony made any other stops on the way to the airport.”

  “If the three men were all poisoned,” Lucy said, “and Hans was attacked by the same person, that means that the killer was in New York prior to coming to Quantico. We have to determine where they were murdered. Maybe Theissen and Stokes’s deaths were exactly what they seemed to be.”

  “If we prove Agent Presidio was poisoned, we’ll move to exhume Stokes’s body.”

  “Did Kate tell you she also worked the McMahon case?” Lucy said. “It was one of her first, when she was still a rookie.”

  Noah didn’t say anything for a moment. “Do you think she’s in danger?”

  “I don’t know, but she needs to know there’s a possible risk. If there is a killer at Quantico, they can get to her.”

  “If there’s a killer at Quantico who’s seeking revenge,” Noah said, “that means they gamed the system. They got in, and we have no idea who they are.”

  “Noah—it’s a lot of ifs, and I have one more. If Hans’s accident and Rosemary Weber’s murder are connected, that means there are at least two people involved.” Lucy grew both excited and apprehensive with her new insight. “Unless my class is innocent and the killer is staff. Staff are the only people who can leave during the week.”

  Noah’s expression turned dark. “And staff would know best how to get around holes in security.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  New York City

  Sean was antsy sitting around Detective DeLucca’s Queens precinct waiting for Suzanne to work out logistics between the Bureau and NYPD. This was why Sean could never be a cop. Paperwork, jurisdictional arguments, rules. Mostly, rules.

  He’d already pulled every article Rosemary Weber had written the week that Tony was interested in, and nothing popped. Sean then pulled the articles for the two weeks before and after. Again, other than an article about the anniversary of Rachel McMahon’s murder, there was nothing that seemed suspicious.

  He e-mailed the articles to Lucy and told her what he and Suzanne had discovered. She might see something he hadn’t.

  He called Patrick and asked, “Anything on Theissen’s losing battle with the subway train?”

  “I’m on my way to Rikers with one of Joe DeLucca’s cop buddies to talk to the kid who pled on the involuntary manslaughter charge. From our read of the case, a disagreement between rival street gangs ended with fists flying. Theissen stepped in and tried to mediate, got pushed back as the train was approaching. Busy time of day, lots of trains. The conductor used the emergency brake when he saw the fight on the platform, but it was too late.”

  “And someone pled?”

  “One year, in exchange for naming names. Official report is that there were three different gangs all using the same station. One kid made an off-color comment about another kid’s girl, the boyfriend pushed him, a third party stepped in, and then mayhem. The kid in Rikers, nineteen-year-old Gregory Bascomb, was pushed into Theissen, then hit Theissen because he thought he was being attacked from both sides. Theissen then tripped over another gangbanger and fell on the tracks.”

  “No trial?”

  “Nada. Plea deal was good enough for both parties, and they have several arrested for other charges.”

  “Why are you talking to this Bascomb?”

  “If we’re going off the theory that Theissen’s death wasn’t an accident, I want Bascomb to ID everyone on the platform who was involved in the brawl.”

  “You’re thinking one of them might have planned this? That’s a lot of assumptions.”

  “Maybe it was a crime of opportunity. You said Presidio wondered if Weber had been stalked. What if Theissen was being followed? The killer saw the gangbangers, understood the dynamics of how to manipulate the group.”

  “As a distraction. Possible.” Sean wasn’t sold on it because there were too many variables that couldn’t be controlled. Sean didn’t like leaving important things to chance. “I’m stuck in Queens waiting for Suzanne and DeLucca to figure out what to do with the guy who pawned Weber’s ring.”

  “I’ll let you know if I learn anything at Rikers.”

  Sean hung up and still Suzanne wasn’t out of the interrogation room.

  He flipped through the neat stack of files on DeLucca’s desk. Nothing pertaining to this case. He stared at the computer. Why had Weber canceled her meeting with the reporter? Who was she meeting that night, and why hadn’t she pu
t it in her planner? Why meet at Citi Field?

  According to the sister, Weber had been close friends with Theissen, who had worked at Citi Field in security up until his death.

  Maybe Weber hadn’t set up a meeting because of the Cinderella Strangler case—maybe it had something to do with Theissen’s accident.

  Or maybe that’s what the killer wanted her to think.

  Suzanne came down the hall. “So Rogan, we’re letting Bartz go on a misdemeanor charge of selling stolen goods. NYPD will handle him. His alibi checks out the night Weber was killed.”

  “The killer gave him the ring?” Sean said.

  “Most likely. But we don’t have much to go on, Bartz is an idiot, the sketch artist is pulling her hair out, and security cams in the area aren’t giving us anything except the guy’s ass. He knew where the cameras were. Just like he knew where the cameras were in Citi Field and avoided them.”

  “I’ve been having a hard time figuring out why a reporter with a long career and the gut instincts to match would meet anyone at Citi Field, even someone she trusted,” Sean said. “If it was someone she knew, why meet there, in the middle of a baseball stadium? If it was someone she didn’t know, why would she agree to it?”

  “That’s been bugging me all along.”

  “Her buddy Theissen worked there before he died. What if she was meeting another employee? Or thought she was? “It would have to be legit; at least she thought it was legit. So there should be a record of the arrangement somewhere. An e-mail. A phone call.”

  “We have her cell phone records.”

  “When did she cancel her meeting with her reporter friend?”

  Suzanne flipped through her notes. “I don’t have a specific time,” she said. “They were supposed to meet at a bar at nine thirty, but she called to cancel late that afternoon.”

  “Likely she set up the Citi Field meeting right before that.”

  “I’ll have my analyst pull all the calls to and from Weber an hour before she cancelled on Banker. This just might be it, Rogan.”

  * * *

  But the phone numbers didn’t lead anywhere, and Sean was even more frustrated than earlier.

  Rosemary Weber had called Banker at 4:45 Tuesday afternoon to cancel their meeting. She’d neither made nor received any phone calls on her cell phone or home phone in the hour before she canceled with Banker. Earlier in the day she’d made calls to the morgues in Brooklyn and Queens, to her assistant three times, and to the Starbucks where one of the Cinderella Strangler victims worked.

  Suzanne was just as frustrated as Sean as they stared at the information. She picked up the phone without a word and called one of the numbers.

  While he was waiting, Patrick called. “Thank God you’re done; I want to go home,” Sean said.

  “Not so fast. I just spoke to Bascomb and we watched the security feed again. Several times in fact. He IDed every guy involved in the brawl except one.”

  Sean leaned forward. “Do we have a good image?”

  “Unfortunately, no. The quality was piss-poor as it was and Bascomb IDed people because he knew them well or by what they were wearing. But I called my former brother-in-law, the D.A. in San Diego, and he called the D.A. in New York, and I’m on my way to pick up the original digital copy of the security feed. I have to return it before we leave New York, but—”

  “If we have the original I can enhance it,” Sean finished for him.

  “We’ll be in Queens in forty-five minutes; hold tight.”

  Sean hung up at the same time Suzanne got off her call. “We may have a lead on the guy who started the fight that knocked Theissen off the subway platform,” he told her.

  “And Weber wasn’t only working on the Cinderella Strangler case. There was no reason for her to call Queens. I thought that was odd, because none of the victims were killed in Queens. She had called for a copy of Theissen’s autopsy report.” She pushed aside papers until she found the file. “We need to look at it again.”

  Sean said, “Maybe she knew something we don’t.”

  “I’m getting a headache,” Suzanne mumbled.

  “No, seriously—if she pulled Theissen’s report, she may have thought there was something more to his death than an accident. If she knew something personal, or maybe it was the timing, or something we wouldn’t think to look at.”

  “We can’t read her mind. We just need to do it all again. Talk to her assistant again. The professor. Rob Banker.” Suzanne started taking notes.

  Sean understood why Suzanne was getting a headache. If they were dealing with different crimes, different cases, different suspects, until they knew what was connected and how, they’d be building scenarios that would get them nowhere.

  But he had one idea that might help.

  He called Lucy.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “We couldn’t stop to see Hans,” she said. “Not that it would have helped. He’s still unconscious.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “I’m hiding in my room because I don’t want to face anyone yet. No one knows the truth. Everyone thinks it’s an accident, and I have to hold up that myth.”

  “I’m planning on flying back tonight, though it might be late. I have a theory I need to run by you. What if Weber was an anomaly? What if her murder was because she was digging into Dominic Theissen’s accident?”

  “Okay, I can see that, but where do Tony and Hans fit in?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “If connected, there’s two people involved.”

  “I thought the same thing. But what if Weber was just a quasi-innocent bystander? We just found out that she was looking into Theissen’s accident. Patrick interviewed one of the gangbangers who pled to involuntary manslaughter and he can’t identify everyone involved in the brawl.”

  “You’re thinking someone started it.”

  “And if that’s the case, he was targeted. Is there any way to find out if Hans, Tony, Theissen, and Stokes worked any other cases together?”

  “I don’t know. I’d have to ask Noah if there’s a way to search the data with agent parameters.”

  “And more complex, I’d like a matrix of cases where any three of the four were involved, and any two of the four.”

  “What might be simpler is to look at Weber’s articles and see what cases she wrote about, then compare that with the agent lists. If there is any—you’re talking about four cops who can’t talk anymore.”

  “But that’s presupposing that she is a specific target, and I’m thinking she is a target because of something she learned. She was killed the same day she pulled all Theissen’s files. I think that’s the connection.”

  “I’ll find out and call you tonight.”

  “Thanks. And I’ll talk to Suzanne about it as well. Be careful, Lucy.”

  “You, too.”

  Sean hung up and frowned.

  “What’s going on?” Suzanne asked.

  “Lucy is worried about Hans,” he said. Then he ran his theory by Suzanne. “Can you think of a way to run it?”

  “No, but our analysts might. Except I still have them working on the notes Tony and I found in Rosemary’s attic.”

  “Maybe that’s exactly where we should start—find out what stories she wrote that quoted Theissen, then dig up those cases and find out who else was involved.”

  “We’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “But we have one more thing coming our way—a suspect.”

  “Rewind. Why do we have a suspect?”

  “The unidentified guy in the subway tape. Patrick will be here in”—he looked at his watch—“twenty-five minutes. With the original security disk. And maybe we can round up that Bartz guy again. Because we know that Rosemary was writing a book about the Cinderella Strangler, but she was also looking into her friend Theissen’s death. She could have been killed for either reason.”

  “Or something completely different,” Suzanne said.

/>   * * *

  “Watch the guy in the gray jacket and dark baseball cap,” Patrick told Sean, Suzanne and DeLucca thirty minutes later.

  Patrick had come through with the original digital security disk from Theissen’s accident. “He’s already there when Theissen comes down the stairs. There he is,” Patrick said, pointing to a clean-cut man wearing slacks, a dark polo shirt, and baseball cap. He could be twenty or forty, the quality was poor and the images in black-and-white. The perspective was distorted because of the wide-angle camera.

  The suspect was watching Theissen as he came down the stairs. A group of seven teenage boys walked behind him, a bit rowdy. This was the main station near Citi Field. According to the report, Theissen used the subway every day to commute to and from work, even though he left at different times. This was the end of his day.

  “I watched the earlier footage,” Patrick said, “and Mr. Ball Cap was there for twelve minutes, coming in on one train and just standing. But during that time, several trains, local and express, went through the station. He didn’t get on any of them.”

  As they watched, a group of four—two girls, two boys—got off one train and crossed the platform. The two groups eyed each other. It was crowded, the end of rush hour. Ball Cap moved between the two groups and said something to one of them, then bumped him. The kid responded by pushing him, but as Sean watched he realized that though Ball Cap had been pushed, the reaction was aimed at the kid on the other side of him.

  What had Ball Cap said? Had he passed the blame for the verbal assault off on another person?

  Theissen turned and kept his eye on the groups, and Ball Cap moved around the outside. There were two distinct situations—one was the pending brawl and the people drawn into it; everyone else moved to the perimeter, not wanting to get in the middle. Theissen stayed on the periphery, watching as a cop might to determine if the situation was getting out of control.