by C. M. Sutter
Hardy blew out a puff of air. “Yeah, evidence at the murdered couple’s house leads us to believe this man is somehow involved.” The captain pointed at the empty chairs. “Have a seat, agents.”
“Thank you, s—” I caught myself before saying sir.
“Cap will do, Agent Monroe.”
“Then please call me Jade.”
He nodded and pointed through the glass. “That’s Detective Fred Andrews interrogating Chad Nolan. Chad is a real estate agent at Scenic View Realty. I had him and the owner of the company here just last night for an interview.”
“Why Chad Nolan in particular?” J.T. asked.
“He was the listing agent for the home of the first victim. We brought him in to see if there was any information he could give us about the conversation he had with the woman on the day he toured her home.”
“So why is he here again?”
“Several of our detectives went back to the King home this morning to search for anything that could give this case a pulse. We had nothing to go on at that point and wondered if there was a connection of some kind with the first victim, Sarah Cummings, and the couple, Bob and Gloria King. Wouldn’t you know, Detective Andrews found a name written down on the edge of a newspaper crossword puzzle.” Hardy jerked his head to his right. “It was his.”
“That is interesting. What does he have to say about it?”
“He swears he’s never shown that couple’s house or had a phone conversation with them. The listing agent on the King home was Gary Gibson.”
“So, the police think that particular real estate company is somehow linked to the murders?” J.T. asked.
Captain Hardy rubbed his forehead. “I’ll be honest, agents, we’re at a loss. It could be totally coincidental that both houses were for sale by the same company. There weren’t any witnesses or a motive of any kind that we’ve found in either case. The first victim was squeaky clean, and so was the couple from last night. We did knock and talks throughout both neighborhoods and came up empty. Nobody saw or heard anything unusual. Sergeants Lyles and Franklin interviewed coworkers from the library where Sarah Cummings worked. One woman in particular was reported to dislike Sarah. She was overheard making threats.”
My curiosity was piqued. “Then what?”
Hardy shook his head. “We hauled her in last night. Sounded like the typical argument between coworkers, spouting off with no real intentions of anything. The conflict was about work hours, so we cut her loose.”
“Okay, we need to have a better handle on this. Everything seems a bit unorganized at the moment. How about a meeting with your crew when the interview with Chad Nolan is over?” I suggested.
“That sounds really good, Jade. Thanks.”
We got comfortable as Hardy clicked on the intercom. With our notepads and pens in hand, we listened to what Chad Nolan had to say.
“Maybe Gary wasn’t doing a good job for them. You said my name was written on a newspaper. Someone in the house could have jotted it down after seeing our real estate ad.”
“It’s possible.”
I turned my head toward Hardy. “The man has a point. Let’s get Gary Gibson in here too.”
Chapter 10
“I’m telling you, sir, something isn’t right. Jackie doesn’t just leave her house with all of the groceries sitting on the kitchen counter. I saw the mess through the patio doors. I’m worried sick that something may have happened to her.”
The sergeant at the Southeast Omaha precinct took notes while the young lady sat alongside his desk. “Miss, it’s been how long?”
Tara Lamar stared at her lap and wrung her hands. “Only a few hours, but we were supposed to have lunch together, and when she didn’t show up or answer her phone, I drove to her house.”
“And you found what?”
“The door locked. I rang the bell a million times and called her phone. I didn’t hear it ring inside the house, so I started looking through windows. That’s when I saw the groceries on the countertop. The ice cream had melted and was seeping through the grocery bag to the floor. Jackie wouldn’t do something that weird. She’s a clean freak, and you never know when somebody is going to make an appointment to see her house.”
“And this clean freak is how old?”
“Twenty-seven. I know, she’s old enough to do as she likes, but I’ve called everyone in our circle of friends, and nobody has spoken to her since ten thirty.”
“But her car was gone, correct?
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Miss Lamar, we can’t file an official missing persons report yet since your friend hasn’t been gone long enough. Finish filling out this paperwork, and if she’s still unaccounted for by tomorrow, come back and we’ll initiate a formal investigation. It’s all we can do at this point. Keep trying to reach her, though, and call me tomorrow either way.” Sergeant Bateman slid his card across the desk to her. “There’s my name and my desk phone number. Keep me posted.”
“Thank you. I will.”
Sergeant Bateman watched from the window as the young woman left the building and disappeared into the parking lot. He hoped she’d find her friend safe and sound.
Chapter 11
Lunchtime was over, and the officers, sergeants, and detectives filed back into the building and gathered in the large conference room on the third floor. Fourteen of us sat around the walnut veneered table. J.T., Captain Hardy, and I sat at the far end, facing the group.
“Okay, guys, let’s quiet down. I need everyone’s attention. These recent murders are very disturbing and far from what we consider normal for our community. With that said, and nothing to go on yet, I called in the assistance of the FBI.” Hardy made the introductions between the group and us.
Murmurs sounded in the room. “Why the FBI, and why so soon? We’ve barely had time to get this investigation under way, sir.”
I sensed a hint of resentment in Sergeant Lyles’s voice. I understood how he felt and had dealt with many police forces in the past who thought we were stepping on their toes. “Cap, if I may?”
“Go ahead, Jade.”
“First, I’d like to say it’s nice to meet everyone, and I hope with our joint efforts we can nip this killer in the bud. We don’t want the death toll to climb, and that’s why the captain called us in. Three murders committed by the same person labels him or her a serial killer. My partner and I are from the Serial Crimes Unit of the FBI, and our job is to apprehend serial killers and bring them to justice. Before I was in the FBI, only a short year ago, I was a sergeant at the sheriff’s office in the town I live in.” I gave Lyles a nod to ease his insecurity toward us. “I’ve been on both sides of the situation you men are facing now. We aren’t here to step on any toes, and believe me, I’ve felt the same way you guys do now. But I’ve also been snubbed by local police because they didn’t want to share the case. Keep in mind, no case we’re brought in on is about us or the police force requesting our help. It’s about the innocent victims and getting the bad guy off the street. We’re on the same team.” I gave the room a minute to digest what I’d said, then Lyles spoke up.
“Do you mind if we call you Jade and J.T.?”
“We don’t mind at all. So, shall we begin?”
Hardy cracked his knuckles then passed out sheets of printer paper to everyone. He slid a box of pens down the center of the table.
“We’re having a test?” Franklin asked half-jokingly.
“Nope, but we need to be better organized so we can solve this case. I want everyone who had any involvement in the calls about these murders, beginning with Sarah Cummings, to write down what role they played, who they spoke with, and what the outcome was.”
“That’s already documented,” Franklin said as he turned toward me.
J.T. took over. “Believe it or not, not every detail ends up in police reports. Officers get interrupted during interviews, witness accounts may not be written down exactly as they were spoken, everyone is too frazzled, or the scene is to
o hectic at that moment for reports to be accurate. The best thing you can rely on is your memory of events. What you write can be compared to the police report you filed. I’ve often seen discrepancies.”
Franklin smirked. “So this is a test?”
“It’s a good self-check but also a way for us to make sure nothing was overlooked before we proceed. We’re in this together, Sergeant Franklin.”
Hardy spoke up. “Take thirty minutes to write down what you remember and then we’ll start brainstorming and create a plan of action.”
Hardy’s cell phone rang, and he stepped out to the hallway to answer it. I watched as he paced ten feet in one direction, turned, and paced the same distance back. He looked anxious. The call was short, then he dropped his phone into his front pants pocket. He rapped on the glass wall and waved J.T. and me toward him.
“Excuse us, guys.” We pushed back our chairs and exited the room to join the captain in the hallway.
“What’s up, Cap?” J.T. asked.
“That was the desk sergeant downstairs. Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Fleming, the parents of Sarah Cummings, just arrived from Albany, New York. They’re waiting for me to tell them what happened to their only child.”
“How much do they know?”
Hardy wrinkled his brow and answered with a sigh. “Only that she’s deceased. I didn’t want them to hear the gruesome details over the phone. Even now, they’ll only be told what is necessary.”
“I agree. Come on. We’ll join you.”
J.T. tapped my arm. “Go ahead, Jade. I’ll get the ball rolling with the officers in the conference room.”
“Thanks, partner.” I walked with the captain to the bank of elevators around the corner. We stood in front of the closed doors and waited. The distinct sound of jingling change came from the captain’s front left pocket, where his hand was buried.
Nervous energy.
The bell dinged, and the light above the door showed the elevator was coming to a stop on the third floor. We entered and rode down two more levels. When she saw us come toward the reception counter, Dana pointed at the visitors’ lounge. Mr. and Mrs. Fleming were waiting behind the closed door.
“Are you ready, and how do you want to tell them?” I asked before we stepped into the room.
“I’ll say she was the victim of a home invasion and the perpetrator killed her. I don’t want to tell them that she wasn’t discovered for two days and had multiple stab wounds covering her body. That image will—”
“I understand, and I’ll handle that part, Cap. Come on, they’re waiting for an explanation.” I turned the knob and pulled the door open. Mr. and Mrs. Fleming stood when they saw us enter. We approached the couple with outstretched hands.
Captain Hardy took the lead. “Mr. and Mrs. Fleming, I’m Captain Kip Hardy, the person who spoke with you on the phone last night, and this is Agent Jade Monroe of the FBI. We’re so sorry for your loss.”
“What happened to Sarah, and why is the FBI involved?” Mrs. Fleming’s voice cracked when she spoke. Her swollen red eyes told me she had spent the previous night crying.
“Let’s sit, shall we? We’ll tell you everything we can.” Cap gave me a look of relief. I’m sure he realized I was wording my sentences as carefully as I could while still being truthful.
“Isn’t it unusual for an FBI agent to be investigating the death of an everyday civilian? Sarah didn’t have a criminal background, and she’s never done anything illegal,” Mr. Fleming said. “What’s really going on here?”
Captain Hardy spoke up. “There have been several suspicious home invasions this week resulting in the death of the homeowners, Sarah being one of them. Agent Monroe’s direct supervisor in the FBI is a close friend of mine, and I asked for their assistance. At this point, we don’t have any clues.”
Mrs. Fleming cupped her face in her hands and broke down. I rose from the chair I had been sitting on and took a seat next to her then put my arm around her shoulder.
“Are you saying our Sarah was murdered?”
The captain stared into the anguished eyes of Sarah’s father. “Yes, sir, I’m afraid that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“How is that possible? She lived in a safe, family-oriented neighborhood. The house was for sale, and she was anxious to move home to be near family. Daniel’s death took a serious toll on her health and well-being. Her decision to sell and move back to Albany was the right one. She needed a new start, and we were excited for her, so what went wrong?” Mr. Fleming pulled a white handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and wiped his eyes.
“Sir, Sarah didn’t do anything to cause this. Our best guess is that it was a random attack, but to gather as much information as we can, do either of you know anyone who would have a reason to harm her?”
Mrs. Fleming blew her nose into the tissue she had pulled from her purse. “Of course not. Sarah was a wonderful person. She and Daniel had a loving marriage. They even spoke of starting a family.”
Silence filled the room for a minute. I was sure the parents were trying to absorb what we had just told them.
Mr. Fleming blew out a long, slow breath before speaking. “How did she die, and where is her body?”
Cap folded his hands in his lap. “She’s at the morgue with the ME, sir, and she was killed with a knife.”
Mrs. Fleming squeezed her husband’s hand tightly. “We need to see our daughter.”
“Of course, ma’am, and I’ll set that up with the ME. If you’ll excuse me for just a moment, I’ll give him a call.” Captain Hardy stepped out of the room, and I was left alone with the distraught couple.
I rose, went to the water fountain, and filled two plastic cups. I handed them to the couple. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. and Mrs. Fleming?”
“Yes, find the person who killed our daughter.”
Hardy returned moments later and told the Flemings that the ME could see them at two o’clock. “The morgue and coroner’s office is only a few blocks from here on Farnam Street. It’s one forty-five now.”
Mr. Fleming stood. “Then we should go, Linda. Please keep us posted with the investigation, Captain Hardy and Agent Monroe.”
I nodded. “We definitely will, sir.”
Chapter 12
We returned to the conference room, where it appeared that everyone was working together like a cohesive unit. I was thankful for that, and it would make our job much easier. At the back of the room, words written in red marker filled a whiteboard. Along with the dates, locations of the homes where victims were found, and manner of death, four names were bullet pointed. Chad Nolan, William Stewart, Gary Gibson, and Sarah’s coworker, Liz Manthis, were listed on the board. Three of the four people had been interviewed and released.
“I think Chad Nolan should remain a person of interest,” Hardy said. “He has no explanation for his name showing up on the newspaper next to the crossword puzzle Mrs. King was working on. It seems especially odd since he said he’s never met them in his life. Even with that lame excuse, he still raises a red flag with me.”
I nodded. “We’ll have to see that newspaper. I assume it’s in evidence. If there isn’t an ad for Scenic View Realty within the pages, then I agree with Cap. Chad Nolan would definitely need another interview. Has anyone dug deeper into Mr. Nolan’s personal life? See if he’s married, and if he is, interview the wife too. Everyone has secrets in their home and skeletons in their closet. We need to weed through that information and determine if anything is relevant to these homicides.”
Hardy pointed at the board where J.T. stood. “Make a note of that. We’ll bring Sarah’s coworker and Gary Gibson in too.”
“How far did you get with names from the Realtors?” I took a seat, grabbed a pen, and slid a sheet of paper toward me. I jotted notes as I thought.
“Not far enough.” Kyle Dixon, one of the officers assigned to make calls to the real estate companies, spoke up. “After news of the second murder came in, we were reassigned to other tas
ks.”
I tapped my pen against the table. “We’ll check every possibility, but I don’t want anyone to get tunnel vision here. These murders may be the act of a random killer who has nothing to do with the real estate business. Maybe the killer is an opportunist and saw the For Sale signs. He may have thought the houses were empty and wanted to squat in them. Or maybe he wanted to rob them and accidentally came upon the homeowner. Without leads, we don’t have anything to base our theories on.”
“None of the victims’ neighbors had any information?” J.T. asked.
“Nope,” Lyles said. “The only person who had an actual statement to give us was Beth Sloane, the woman who called in the King murders.”
“And how did that come about again?” I asked.
“She told us the porch light is never on at their house. She said she was actually happy to see it lit up when she passed by in her car, thinking they had company, until she noticed the front door ajar. That’s when she stopped to see if everything was okay.”
“So the light being on indicated that the Kings were expecting a visitor, not the MO of someone who would sneak in and rob the house.” Hardy said.
“True enough. Let’s bring Beth Sloane in for a more thorough interview.” J.T. added her name to the list.
“What about surrounding counties?” I asked. “Has anything like this happened elsewhere in Nebraska lately? Do all of the police stations share information?”
Sergeant Franklin answered. “Only if it ends up on the news and it rings a bell. Sarah’s death got some initial coverage, but since we have nothing to give to the press, they’re kind of sitting on the sidelines. Now the murders of Bob and Gloria King? That will definitely start tongues wagging. The serial killer news sensation is about to begin.”
J.T. rubbed his forehead. “That’s just great. The press is actually more of a hindrance than a help. All they do is instill fear in the community so their ratings go up.” He refocused his attention on the group. “Okay, what about the neighborhoods where Sarah Cummings and the Kings lived? Are they normally crime-free, safe areas?”