by C. J. Cross
The swirl of emotions in Claire’s watery eyes made Dana’s heart ache. Maybe Jake had been right to try to shield Claire from this case. It was affecting her more than Dana had expected. But then again, sometimes she was guilty of forgetting that Claire was only in her twenties and still naïve enough to believe the world wasn’t a bleak and hopeless place.
Dana reached out and squeezed her intern’s pale hand. “Claire, you’re trembling.”
She quickly pulled her hand away. “I’m fine. I just need a smoke.”
“Claire, you know how I feel about those things.”
“They’re only cloves,” she argued.
“Yes, but smoking …” Dana’s words trailed off as her thoughts snagged on a memory.
Several images snapped together in her mind at once, forming a clear picture. Dana gasped.
“Dr. Gray …”
“Claire! You’re a genius! The cigarettes! It’s him!”
Now Dana was the one shaking as she dug through the files on her desk until she found the photograph she was looking for. There, in the corner near the hotel dresser, was a cigarette butt. A Kent cigarette butt.
Dana’s mind snapped back to the night Shepard had brought her to the hotel room where her parents had been found. The dresser had cigarette burns in it. She thumbed through more photos of their crime scene until she located the dresser. It was one of the few items that was still the same in the room when she’d visited. And the burns were there in the photos!
Dana’s mind skipped to one more memory, the last piece of the puzzle that made her heart gallop in her chest. Her, sitting across a bistro table from a smug FBI agent, who’d been unable to resist his crutch.
Nearly hyperventilating, she grappled for her phone and dialed Shepard’s number. “Pick up, pick up, pick—”
“Shepard.”
“Jake! It’s him. It’s Cramer!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Cramer is the killer!”
“Dana …”
“No! I’m right about this. Just get back here and I’ll show you.”
41
Jake popped his last dumpling into his mouth and savored its tangy perfection before indulging Dana’s most recent crazy theory.
He’d told her he wouldn’t even entertain listening to her until she ate something.
Jake had never seen someone eat so fast. And as a man who’d spent the better part of his life in the military, that was saying something.
Dana sucked down her drunken noodles like a champ before launching into her campaign against Cramer.
Jake and Claire finished their meals in silence while Dana ranted on about his boss’s guilt. Now that Jake had finished eating, he couldn’t stall any longer. “Yes, that brand of cigarette is a match, but Cramer isn’t the only one who smokes Kents.”
“I know he’s your friend and you don’t want it to be him, but you can’t ignore the evidence.”
“Cramer being a fan of Kent cigarettes is hardly evidence.”
“What about the fact that he fits the description of my attacker?” Dana argued. “Six-three, two-twenty.”
Jake ran a hand down his face, trying to work some of his tension out. “Do you know how many people fit that description?”
“Jake, I know it’s him! The entire time we were at lunch today something felt off. Like there was something familiar about him I couldn’t place, but now I know why. He’s the one who attacked me. He’s the killer. I can feel it in my gut!”
“Why would he take you out to lunch and beg you to stay on the case if he was the one who attacked you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he likes to keep his enemies close.”
“I’m telling you, I know this man. He’s not our enemy.”
“He’s the one who said you needed me because you wouldn’t see the monster coming. Cramer is in your blind spot, and he knows it.”
“Okay, hypothetically, let’s say you’re right and Cramer’s behind this whole thing. We need evidence. Actual concrete facts. Your gut isn’t going to take down a highly respected FBI agent who also happens to be a decorated war hero.”
Dana surprised him by agreeing. “You’re right. So how do we get the evidence we need?”
Jake sank into the chair in Dana’s office. “It’s not that simple.”
Dana dragged a chair up next to him. “It all fits, Jake. The initial profile was that the killer was someone with a possible military background and knowledge of police procedure. Cramer has both. You have to see that.”
Jake pinched his brow. “Yes, but so do literally thousands of other FBI and CIA agents, not to mention all the other private security agencies in the city.”
“But none of them have access to this case like Cramer does.”
“That we know of,” Jake argued. He didn’t want Dana to be right. Thomas Cramer had been a mentor to Jake, someone he’d looked up to when he’d joined the Bureau. Someone he thought had his six. He’d never expect to be stabbed in the back by Cramer, but if Dana was correct, that’s exactly what his boss had done.
She sighed. “I get it. It’s hard for you to imagine someone you’re close to could be involved, but you can’t ignore the facts. Cramer is a trained and experienced killer. He’s an authority figure who craves power and control, and if that’s no longer being satisfied in his current position, he may be seeking it elsewhere.”
“Craves power and control?” Anger surged hot under Jake’s skin. “Is that your general opinion of people who dedicate their lives to serving this country?”
“Not at all. But think about it. Cramer has been pitting us against each other from the beginning. What if he only made you think I was a suspect, so you’d doubt me right now when I figured it out?”
“He’s not that conniving.”
“He was conniving enough to leverage my parents’ cold case to keep me where he wanted me.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. If he’s behind this, I don’t get the logic in keeping you on the case. What’s his endgame?”
“I think it’s obvious.”
Jake crossed his arms. “Humor me.”
“I think you were right in Maryland. I’m a temptation to this unsub. He’s been saving me for his last kill.”
“There’s one flaw in your theory.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re the one who pointed out that this guy always kills in pairs, remember?”
“I’m aware.”
“Then who’s the other target?”
Dana’s dark gaze was full of sympathy. Her eyes never left Jake’s as she turned to her intern who was lurking in the corner. “Claire, what’s the definition of partner?”
“Either of a pair of people engaged together in the same activity,” she parroted.
Claire’s words hit their mark, just as Dana had intended. She hadn’t planned to make Jake feel like a complete fool, but the result was the same, nonetheless.
Jake’s mind whirled as he tried to process this new information.
Standing, he began to pace.
He was conflicted. He didn’t want to believe that his Army brother and mentor could be behind this, but Dana’s argument was compelling. Cramer could’ve orchestrated this whole thing.
He’d been adamant that Dana be brought on to the case, and he broke protocol by insisting she stay on after he’d found out about her parents’ murder. Jake knew Cramer to be a pretty relaxed supervisor, but he’d demanded to be kept in the loop with every detail and development discovered in this case.
At first Jake had attributed it to the media pressure, but now he wasn’t so sure. He was starting to see everything in a new light after Dana’s revelation.
All at once, the evidence added up. Doubt clicked into place, giving a voice to the dread that had been building inside Jake since this case started. If he was honest with himself, something had felt off since the first time he’d seen Cramer smoking at the crime scene.
Swearing un
der his breath, Jake took a seat before his legs gave out on him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, gripping the back of his neck as he came to terms with this new reality. “If you’re right, and that’s still a big if, we need to tread carefully.”
“If I’m right, Cramer is going to kill again and we’re the only ones who can stop him.”
“Yeah,” he laughed bitterly. “And if we don’t, we’re the ones who end up dead. He’ll eliminate the only people who could possibly implicate him in the crimes.” Jake almost admired the genius of it. The perfect crime.
“So what do we do?” Dana asked. “Is there some sort of internal affairs task force that can help?”
Jake shook his head. “The best thing to do is wait.”
“Wait? For what? Cramer to kill us?”
“No. He’s setting a trap. We have to let him spring it.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“It’s the only way. We have to catch him in the act, or we don’t have enough evidence on him.”
“Okay, but we’ll at least need back up.”
“No. If Cramer’s involved there’s no telling how deep the deception runs. By bringing in other agents, we risk tipping him off. If we do this, we do it alone.”
Jake would never ask anyone to put their life on the line, but that’s what Dana would be doing here. He needed to make that clear to her and let her know she had an out if she wanted it. Jake didn’t. If Cramer was their unsub, bringing him down had just become personal.
He stood, crossing the room to where Dana sat. He knelt in front of her, his hands squeezing her knees. “If we do this, it’s a risk. A big one. I would never ask you to put yourself in harm’s way. God knows you’ve already suffered enough, but that’s what this might come to. I need you to make a decision now so I can map out how this is going to go down. Are you in or out?”
She responded without hesitation. “This guy killed my parents. You know I’m in.”
Jake fought against the conflicting emotions Dana’s response filled him with. After all she’d been through, he had an almost unreasonable desire to protect her. But he knew that was the last thing she wanted. And who was he to deny her the justice she’d spent her life searching for?
“All right.” Jake stood, and so did Dana. “From here on out, it’s just me and you.”
“We’ve made it this far together.”
Jake extended his hand and Dana shook it, offering him a surprising grin. The woman really was something else.
“Where do we go from here?” she asked.
Jake crossed his arms. “We don’t have solid evidence yet, but I think I know where we can get some.”
“Where?”
“Ohio.”
42
“Can I help you?”
Jake groaned at the unwelcome intrusion, but turned on his charm like switching on a light bulb. “You know, I could use some help.”
He jogged down Rycroft Cramer's front steps with an easy grin and extended his hand to the elderly man who’d just crossed the overgrown yard and strode up to the porch.
“John Kent,” Jake said, slipping into the familiar alias he used in situations like these.
“Martin McNeely. I live next door.”
“Nice to meet you, Martin. I was hoping to visit an old friend while I’m in town, but he doesn’t appear to be home. I don’t get up to Ohio too often. I guess I should’ve called.”
The older man’s wrinkles deepened as he frowned. “If you’re here to see Richard Boyd, you’re about four months too late.”
Jake blinked in genuine confusion. Who was Richard Boyd? He was here to see Cramer’s older brother.
Martin sighed, shoving his hands deep in his overall pockets. “I’m sorry to be the one to break it to ya, but Richard passed on a few months back.”
Jake shook his head, wondering if he’d taken a wrong turn. He pulled out his phone to check the GPS. “This is Willet Drive, right?”
“Sure is.”
“Maybe I got the wrong address.”
Martin shrugged. “I’ve lived here for twenty-odd years. Richard’s owned the house next to me for the past ten or so.”
The hairs on the back of Jake’s neck began to rise. Something wasn’t right. He was here to see Rycroft, but the neighbor was talking about someone named Richard. Not one to ignore his gut, Jake swiped through the photos on his phone. Finding what he was looking for, he held it up to Martin. “You sure we’re talking about the same guy?”
“Yep. That’s him. Poor SOB. Cancer got him. Fought it hard, but it’s not a fair fight at his age. You two were close?”
“I was closer with his younger brother. I can’t believe he didn’t mention the cancer was back.”
“Eh, Richard wasn’t much of a talker. Kept to himself mostly.”
“What about his brother? Was he here to help him at least?”
Martin shrugged again. “I never saw anyone at the house but ol’ Richard. A few maintenance vans have been by lately, but that hasn’t stopped the place from going to hell. It’s turning into a real eyesore. Maybe you could talk to his brother about it.”
“Absolutely,” Jake said. “I wish I had a key. I could take a look around and make a list of what needs attention for him. He’s pretty busy with work. I’m not sure when he’ll have time to get up this way.”
“Ya know what …” Martin held up a finger and walked around the raised garden that showed off a harvest of dried weeds and broken terracotta pots. He picked up a small stone statue in the shape of an angel, snatching something from the dirt. “Whatta ya know? It’s still here.”
He walked back over to Jake and handed him a dirty and slightly rusted key. “Old homeowners kept it there. Not sure if Richard changed the locks, but it’s worth a shot. I’d hate to see this place rot.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Jake assured him, bounding up the steps. If the key didn’t work, he’d pick the lock. But he couldn’t do that with the nosy neighbor breathing down his neck.
He slipped the rusty metal into the keyhole, already thinking of a way to distract Martin, when he felt the lock tumble. Jake turned the knob and the old red door opened with a groan. Warm, stale air that smelled faintly of cigarettes wafted out onto the covered porch, stirring Jake’s suspicion.
Something definitely wasn’t right. He needed to get rid of Martin so he could take a look around. Turning back to the old man, he smiled. “It works. Thanks so much for your help.” He held up his cell phone. “I’m gonna call his brother and see what we can do about the upkeep. Mind if I knock on your door when I’m done?” Take the hint buddy. Jake hated the idea of incapacitating the old-timer, but he’d do what needed to be done to get to the bottom of this.
Luckily, it didn’t seem like Martin was going to make things more difficult.
The old man nodded. “Please do.”
With a salute, Jake slipped inside and closed the door.
Relief from escaping the nosy neighbor was fleeting. Once inside Rycroft’s house, Jake’s skin began to tingle. The place felt wrong. There was no other way to describe it. Everything was in its place, but the home didn’t feel lived in. It seemed like it was waiting for something, or someone.
Fractured ideas started to take shape in Jake’s mind as he walked from room to room revisiting what he knew. Rycroft Cramer was using an alias. He may or may not be deceased. He’d have to quietly look into that to confirm Martin’s story. Whoever lived here was or had been a serious smoker.
As far as Jake knew, Rycroft didn’t smoke. He’d met the man at several DC functions and remembered how poor his health had been. He’d survived cancer twice—but perhaps not a third?
Either way, Rycroft was always on his younger brother to quit smoking. That told Jake that Cramer had most likely been visiting his brother’s house recently. Perhaps to check on him while he’d been in poor health. Or was it to decompress from the heinous crimes he’d been committing in DC?
The ne
ighbor didn’t recall seeing Cramer visit, but that didn’t surprise Jake. Cramer would’ve been careful, most likely coming in and out during the cover of night or in disguise. Perhaps he’d been the one driving the maintenance vans Martin saw? Jake had to consider that Cramer was also using an alias in Ohio. And that was probably the reason they wouldn’t find Cramer’s name associated with the church.
Jake couldn’t wait to get back and have Dana cross reference Richard Boyd with the church’s creepy congregation. But first he needed to do a more thorough search of the house. Slipping a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, Jake got down to business.
He worked the scene with the methodical precision befitting of the FBI. Moving room to room he cataloged what he found in his notebook. The single-story, brick ranch didn’t take long to canvass. Two bedrooms with dated plaid wallpaper, one bathroom with tarnished brass fixtures, a small living room with worn leather furniture, a boring beige kitchen, and a bare mudroom and foyer.
Concluding his search of the first floor, Jake moved to the basement door. As he descended the stairs, his stomach twisted. One glance into the subterranean room told him why.
“Shit.” Jake pulled his phone out of his pocket. He needed to get back to Dana.
43
Waiting was not Dana’s strong suit. Jake had only been gone a little over twelve hours, and already she was climbing the walls.
She’d always loved the quiet of the library, but now it was enough to drive her mad. She needed something to silence her thoughts, and there was nothing on the underground floor that helped. She’d already been through the Pentanic Verses a million times, along with all the online church records she could get her hands on. There wasn’t much to go on, and so far she hadn’t found anything helpful. There were no records of a Thomas Cramer, Rycroft Cramer, or any Cramer for that matter being associated with the Pentacle Church.