Web of Deceit

by Susan Sleeman

  “Maybe,” Kait said, her mind wandering back through the conversation with Yolanda. “I think we’re better off getting the tags for the Imperial and issuing an alert than trying to figure out the importance of the coat.”

  Sam nodded. “I’ll look up the registration information, and get a BOLO out on the car.”

  Kait nodded. Being able to issue a “Be On the Look Out” alert quickly to every PPB officer in town was one of the advantages to working on a joint taskforce. Each organization had their specialty, and bringing them together made things work so much more efficiently.

  Her specialty was retrieving and analyzing data. “I’ll have our analysts pull footage from street cams in the general vicinity. Maybe we’ll catch the car on one of these mysterious trips Yolanda mentioned, and that will give us another lead.”

  The screen door burst open and slammed against the wall. Yolanda rushed outside, an Anne Geddes calendar tucked under her arm. After sitting, she pressed it open on her lap and stabbed a chubby finger on Wednesday, July 3rd. “Here it is. Alaska Air from Medford. See the flight number?”

  Kait grabbed her phone and typed the details into a note. “Do you remember what carousel the bags came in on?”

  “No. I met Ida at the curb. She might know.”

  “About this man Elliot met,” Kait said. “Can you describe him?’

  Yolanda closed the calendar, her eyes creased in thought. “He was about the same size as Elliot. Dark hair, too. He was dressed nice. A suit, I think. He had one of those computer bags hanging over his shoulder.”

  Kait thumbed through her phone and showed Yolanda a photo of Fenton. “Is this the man you saw?”

  She studied the picture. “Could be, but I’m not sure. I just wasn’t close enough. But Ida mentioned seeing Elliot, so maybe she saw the other guy, too.”

  “We’ll want to talk to her.” Sam pulled out his notepad. “I’ll need her last name and phone number.”

  “Ida Nance. She never married, poor thing.” Yolanda tsked, then rattled off Ida’s phone number. “Don’t be surprised if she gives you a hard time. She’s suspicious by nature, so she’ll want proof of who you are before she’ll say a thing. I’ll phone her to tell her to expect your call.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call her,” Kait said. “If the two of you talk about that day, she might get confused about the details and inadvertently repeat your account of the events instead.”

  “Oh, heavens, it’s like you know her. She would do just that. I’m the older one, and she’s always tried to be just like me.” Yolanda frowned. “But honestly, if I don’t call her first, she’s not going to answer your questions. Unless of course you plan to hike to Medford to show her your badges.”

  “How about I call her right now?” Sam offered. “You can get on the phone and tell her you saw our ID.” Sam snapped his from a belt clip. “We can use mine.” He dialed Ida’s number and handed the phone to Yolanda.

  She held it away from her body as if it might bite. “Do I just talk into it, or do I have to push a button?”

  “Just talk after Ida answers.”

  “Oh my stars, Ida, you’ll never guess what I’m talking on?” Yolanda’s eyes twinkled. “A cell phone. Can you believe it? It’s not mine. Belongs to a Detective Sam Murdock with the Portland police. He’s here on my porch with Special Agent Kaitlyn Knight with the FBI.” She took a breath and listened for a moment. “No. I’m fine. It’s Elliot. You know my next-door neighbor. He was murdered.”

  Sam heard Ida’s cry of surprise.

  “They want to talk to you, too. In case you saw anything while you were visiting. You’re so careful; I knew you wouldn’t talk to them without seeing their badges, so I wanted to make sure you knew they were okay.” Yolanda listened again. “I suppose that’s okay. Let me ask.” She looked at Sam. “Ida’s got the girls over for bridge, and she wondered if you could call her back in fifteen minutes or so.”

  “That’s fine,” Sam said, and Yolanda relayed the message as her gaze drifted off down the street.

  Kait followed her line of vision. A white truck with the FBI logo and Evidence Response Team in bold blue letters on the side pulled down the street and stopped in front of Congdon’s house. Soon, neighbors would pour out of their homes to gawk as they had the day Congdon’s body was discovered.

  When Yolanda returned the phone to Sam, Kait handed her a business card. “Thank you for the help, Yolanda. Call me if you think of anything else. Anything at all.”

  Yolanda’s head bobbed. “You can be sure I will.”

  Before Yolanda started asking questions about the ERT truck, Kait jogged down the stairs, the heavy thud of Sam’s boots following behind.

  He caught up to her. “She was something else, wasn’t she?”

  “Memorable, that’s for sure. She’s shed a whole new light on Congdon.”

  “Sounds like you think everything she told us is significant.”

  “Don’t you?”

  He shrugged.

  “Think about it, Sam.” She turned to him, stopping to gain his attention. “Yolanda tells us that Congdon suddenly changes his routine. Starts going out more frequently. What if the reason Fenton chained up Congdon was to take over his life? You know, impersonate Congdon so he could move about freely without worrying about getting caught?”

  “That would take identity theft to a whole new level, and I’m not sure I buy it.”

  “But it is possible. Congdon’s a loner. No friends, no family to check on him, works at home, rarely goes out. The only person who kept in regular touch with him was Yolanda, and even she’d left him alone lately.”

  “Your theory is solid, but I just don’t see what Rhodes had to gain from impersonating Congdon. And if it was working so well for Rhodes, why did he up and kill Congdon? Why not keep going?”

  She resisted the urge to grab his arm to make him see her point. “Because it was time to unleash this crazy plan.”

  “I suppose you could be right.” He glanced at his watch and pressed a few buttons. “I’ve set a reminder to call Ida. If she can identify Rhodes, then I’ll give your theory more consideration.”

  “Even if she can’t, we might get lucky and catch him on security footage at the baggage carousel.”

  “Let’s hope at least one thing from this conversation pans out.”

  “It will,” Kait said with a certainty she didn’t quite feel. “It’s about time we catch a break on this case.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  AT TEATIME, NINA passed the closely grouped tables for two and chose a booth in the back for privacy. Her hands shook as she slid onto the bench facing the door. She wanted to see Quinn the minute he entered. She’d acted confident when talking to Kait, but Nina dreaded seeing him as much as she dreaded trying to get a brush through her tight curls. An impossible task and a painful one at that.

  The bells above the door tinkled. Nina could sense Quinn’s presence filling the space before she saw him enter and stop by the door, his feet planted wide as he perused the room. His eyes looking. Seeking. Searching for any danger and assessing his escape routes. The same survey most law enforcement officers completed when entering a public space. Even Nina. But Nina had been too nervous when she’d come in to do so. Not that TeaTime harbored any real danger. Except maybe now, in the form of Quinn Stone.

  An anemic-looking waitress named Betty stepped to the table, blocking Nina’s view of Quinn. “What can I get you?”

  A frequent customer, Nina didn’t need to look at a menu. “I’ll have a one-person pot of Darjeeling and a plate of mini-pastries. My associate,” she tipped her head at Quinn, “will have the organic French press coffee.”

  “Not a tea drinker, huh?” Betty glanced at Quinn then did a double take before departing.

  Nina didn’t blame
the woman. Even though he’d stomped all over her emotions, she stared at his wide shoulders, trim waist, and a face made for commercials—a package that sent her senses reeling.

  Business, Nina. You’re here on business.

  She focused on the table, straightening items that didn’t need adjusting, and waiting for him to cross the room. She conjured up the smile she’d practiced in front of the mirror hundreds of times to ensure proper manners while Grandmother Hale looked on. Southern stereotypes of women might be disappearing, but many Alabama mamas and grandmothers still raised their daughters with the same code they were raised by. And at the moment, all the sweet-talking and smiling to say nothing’s wrong when the world was falling apart was going to come in handy.

  Nina heard Quinn’s boots clomp closer on the worn wooden floor. He wanted her to hear him coming. If he didn’t, he’d use the stalking training he’d completed in sniper school, allowing him to cross the room without a sound.

  “Scoot over,” he said, as he stopped at the end of the booth.

  She shifted her gaze to the edge of the table. His hiking boots came into focus, and she let her eyes travel up his body. She noted the oddity of his long-sleeved shirt on a summer day and his hands shoved in his pockets, but it was the familiar face that she’d once been sure she’d see for the rest of her life, that left her tongue-tied.

  She tried to come up with a good reason for him to sit on the other side of the table, but nothing came to mind except how great he looked. “I’m good.”

  “Well I’m not. Not with my back to the door.”

  “Who’s going to jump you in a teashop, for goodness sake?”

  He stared down on her. “Guess you’re the only one who might want to plunge a Ka-Bar in my back in a place like this.”

  In the time she’d spent with him, she’d learned that he used Ka-Bar as a generic term for a knife, but that was about all she’d gleaned from the tight-lipped SEAL about his Navy way of life.

  “I don’t want to kill you, Quinn,” she said, infusing her words with as much grace as she could muster. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you suffer for a while.”

  She watched and waited for his reaction, expecting him to get mad, but he threw back his head and laughed, bringing a smile out of her when that was the last thing she wanted to do around him. Or maybe sitting thigh to thigh with him was the last thing.

  She slid out of the booth and quickly took the other side. “It’s all yours.”

  He took the spot she’d just vacated. “It’s not like you to give in so easily.”

  “There’s no point in arguing. I’d like to get down to business and get out of here.”

  He pressed his shoulders back against the worn leather and settled his hands in his lap. “Must be some business if you didn’t want to talk about it on the phone.”

  She brought him up to speed on Rhodes and their need for information. “Anything you could do would be helpful.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but Betty arrived with their food. She quickly set the tea and pastries in front of Nina but took her time placing the coffee in front of Quinn. “Anything else I can get you?” she asked, purring like a well-loved cat.

  Quinn shook his head, but didn’t look at her. Nina had seen waitresses fawn over him many times. Experience told him if he didn’t make eye contact, they went away faster.

  Betty slid the bill under his cup, and Nina noted she’d added her phone number.

  Nina grabbed the bill. “Thanks, but we don’t need anything else.” Nina waited for Betty to depart and pushed the plate of pastries over to Quinn. “I see you’re still a chick magnet.”

  He chose an éclair dripping with chocolate. “Is that your way of asking if I’m dating? ’Cause if it is, I’m not . . . I haven’t.”

  A thrill shot through her at his news, and he watched her, maybe waiting for her to update him on her relationship status, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She took a long sip of tea, letting the soothing liquid calm her jitters. “Do you think you can help us with Rhodes?”

  “I’ll need his particulars. Like his social, date of birth, etc.” He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. Maybe with Nina’s choice of meeting places, or her, or both.

  She picked up a file from the seat and slid it across the table. “It’s all in here.”

  “If you brought that along, you must have felt confident I’d help.” He chomped down on the éclair, leaving a spot of chocolate on his upper lip.

  She wanted to wipe it away and that made her mad. “I don’t pretend to know what you’ll do,” she snapped. “But I did hope you’d want to help us take a killer off the street before he kills again.”

  “Geez, Nina. Lighten up, already. When did you get all serious on me?”

  When you broke my heart. “This is business, Quinn. Will you do this or not?”

  He set down the éclair, his fingers tipped in chocolate. “Of course I will.”

  “Soon, or are you and your precious team off on a mission?” She hadn’t wanted to sound bitter, but there it was in her words.

  He didn’t reply but picked up his cup with the chocolate-free hand, and Nina couldn’t miss seeing the angry, raw flesh from burns on his hand.

  “Oh my gosh, it was you.” The tea swam in her stomach as she met his gaze, her frustration with him forgotten. “You were you the SEAL who was hurt in that hostage rescue.”

  “It was nothing. I’m fine.” He pulled his hand back as if intending to hide it, but she took it in hers and looked at the tender, pink scars. He had such amazing hands. Long fingers. Gentle fingers for such a big guy. Now they were scarred for life. The very thing she feared for him.

  No, that wasn’t true. She feared his death. She gently set his hand on the table and vowed again to get over this man before her fears became a reality.

  “How soon do you think you’ll be able to get on this?” she asked, noting how breathless she sounded.

  He picked up on it and tilted his head to watch her. “I’ll need to go back to base, so as soon as I can schedule a flight.”

  “We’ll compensate you for the flight.”

  “No need. My time here was about up, and I’d be going back anyway.”

  “Back to active duty.”

  “Yes.”

  Her gut tightened. “At least the injury allowed you to spend time with your family.”

  He snorted. “Like that was a good thing. Ty’s entered a junior in high school rebellion phase. Skipping classes. Pulling pranks. Mom asked me to come knock some sense into him. Didn’t work. He thinks he knows everything.”

  A techie at heart, Ty didn’t want to be like his brother, but he’d once idolized Quinn. “So a typical teen, then.”

  “Exactly, and I’m ready to get away from it for a while.” The big strong SEAL who faced knife-and gun-wielding terrorists shuddered over a teenager, making Nina smile.

  “Sounds like this will work out for both of us then.” She pulled out a few bills, tossed them on the table, and stood. “So you’ll call me the minute you know anything?”

  “I could come back.” His voice was filled with hope. “Tell you in person.”

  “That’s not a good idea, Quinn.” She took a step.

  He circled her wrist with his hand, stopping her. He rubbed his thumb over her pulse, which had burst into overdrive at his touch. He looked up at her, his eyes awash with the same longing she was fighting.

  “We were good together, sweetheart,” he whispered. “So good.”

  “Were is the operative word, Quinn,” she said, and freed her arm before she did something she’d regret. “Remember it.”

  As she exited the building, she could feel his eyes on her, but she kept going. She was running from him. She was also running from herself when there wasn’t a
ny place to escape. That meant reliving the last six months and trying to put him behind her again. This time she’d try harder. This time she’d succeed.

  BY THE TIME Sam and Kait reached Congdon’s house, the FBI tech had opened the back door of his truck and had climbed in. Sam stopped near the rear of the truck, surprised to find Dane inside, staring at the other guy like he was Dane’s favorite celebrity.

  “Dane,” Sam called. “Have you gone plumb crazy and joined up with the other side?”

  “Are you kidding? Look at the place.” He gestured at the walls filled with equipment then looked at Kait. “Tell your boss thanks for letting me work with Henry.” He nodded at a male tech holding a tripod with a boxy piece of equipment mounted on the end. It looked a lot like an old boom box with the middle indented.

  Kait rolled her eyes. “Men and their toys.”

  “Oh yeah.” Dane grinned and jumped down. “And this one’s the top of my list.”

  “If you say so,” Kait said, not seeming to have any interest in this kind of technology. “What is it?”

  “It’s a Leica—”

  “ScanStation C10,” Henry butted in as he grabbed a laptop case from the back of the truck before smiling at Kait.

  She acknowledged him with a nod then turned to Sam. “This is Henry Greco. He’s one of our finest evidence recovery techs.”

  “The guy with all the cool toys,” Sam said sarcastically. “So it’s a Leica something or other, but what does it do that’s so cool?”

  Henry climbed down and affectionately patted the piece of equipment. “This baby puts out a pulse of eye-safe laser light fifty thousand times per second as it scans the crime scene and creates a 3-D rendering. When the scan is completed, we upload the file to a computer, and you can look at the scene over and over again.”

  Sam wasn’t impressed. “And this is somehow better than the copious photos we take at crime scenes?”

  Henry gave Sam a well-duh look. “3-D captures measurements along with the pics, so the model is scaled. It’s a great way for a DA to show the crime scene to a jury, or for you to refresh your memory as time passes.”