by DiAnn Mills
“Can you verify the rumor?” April said.
“No one crosses Willis,” Ted said. “If he’s arrested with charges that will banish him from the county permanently, maybe folks will come forward.”
April made a note to research Willis’s campaigns as a sheriff.
“To the best of your knowledge, are any of his deputies guilty of committing crimes?”
Ted appeared to ponder the question. “Hard to say. I know all but one of them. In my opinion, the more deputies on Willis’s side, the more he’d have to pay off or get rid of.”
Smart man. “Is there one person you suspect?”
He shook his head. “But there’s one man I trust. Kevin Viner. He grew up with Jason. Goes to our church.”
The deputy she’d met this afternoon. She’d refrain from mentioning her experience until she received a background on the man. “Since we aren’t assured of who is and isn’t working under Willis’s directives, I suggest you, Vicki, and Isabella leave Sweet Briar until this is over. I’m concerned about Isabella’s safety and yours. What’s to stop the kidnapper from striking again?”
“My handgun and rifle.” Ted sighed, much like she’d seen and heard Jason do.
April hadn’t prayed in years. She’d stuffed her rosary into a dresser drawer when she took on her FBI role as negotiator. But still she offered a prayer for guidance. “Jason’s insistent you and Mrs. Snyder take Isabella out of town until this is straightened out.”
“I’m staying right here. Now’s the time to stand up to Willis,” Ted said. “I suppose you’ll try to persuade us to see matters your way, but I’m going to help my son win this war.” He leaned forward. “I have a place where Vicki and Isabella can hide out.”
“Why not stay at a safe house in Houston?”
“Is that necessary?” Vicki said. “We have a cabin about fifty miles from here. It’s secluded and difficult to get in or out.”
Oh, they were a stubborn pair and passed it down in their genes. “What if you’re followed? Run off the road? You’d be safer in Houston under FBI protection.”
“Really?” Vicki said. “Aren’t those the same people who believe Willis’s report, that our son is a killer and kidnapped his daughter and you? You mean well, and I’m grateful, but the FBI’s credibility lies at the bottom of a catfish pond until they acknowledge Jason’s innocence. When they admit Willis is responsible, I’ll take our granddaughter wherever you want.”
How did she get herself into this mess? But she’d not abandon Isabella to their ludicrous solution.
“Could your cabin become a trap if you were found by the wrong people?”
Vicki paled. “That could be said of any safe house.”
“Except trained agents would have your back. I understand your feelings, but will you promise me you’ll think about an FBI solution?”
“We will think and pray on it,” Ted said. “In the meantime, tomorrow I’ll take Vicki and Isabella to our cabin.”
Clearly she was being pacified. “Is there any documented evidence of Willis’s involvement in illegal activities?”
“Possibly. A couple of weeks ago, Jason gave me a flash drive and asked me to keep it in a safe place. I have no idea of the contents.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Vicki said.
“Well . . . this probably isn’t admissible in a court of law, but Jason added it to the flash drive. Just documentation of something I observed. It means nothing in itself. I was in line at the bank behind Willis. He had $10,000 in cash and deposited it in four separate accounts. Wondered how a county sheriff came into that much cash and why he spread it out. So I took note of the date, time, and the teller.”
Ted rubbed his chin. “I wouldn’t have thought much of it, except it happened downwind of another incident. I head up a ministry designed to help those with addictions. One of the men, Buddy, who comes on occasion, usually when his girlfriend kicks him out, told me a story. Said Willis detained him for dealing, but Willis claimed he could avoid arrest and make the charges go away for $10,000. His girlfriend paid it. Buddy’s run-in with Willis happened two days before the peculiar deposit. Too coincidental for me.” He sat back.
“Ted, if you don’t tell her the rest, I will,” Vicki said.
“All right. But none of this can be proven unless Buddy stays clean long enough to tell his story. Even then, Willis’s lawyer would probably find a way to toss it out.” He moistened his lips. “The next time I talked to Buddy, I asked if he’d been behaving himself. He’d been arrested for drunken driving and spent a week in jail. Willis offered to make it go away for $3,000. Buddy told him to forget it because he was breakin’ the law too. When Willis laughed and locked him up, Buddy told him I knew about the bribe. The following Sunday, Willis stopped me after church and told me not to believe anything Buddy said. I asked him if he was talking about the $10,000 bribe. He sneered and started to walk away. I called after him, ‘Willis, if nothing happened, why are you bothering me with it?’ Made him mad. Told me to mind my own business or I’d be sorry. I said, ‘One of these days, your mischief will come to light.’”
April nodded. The Snyders had their stories about Willis. But could any of them be proven? “Is the flash drive here?”
“It’s in my safe-deposit box at the bank. I have it in an envelope labeled Willis and Buddy.”
“Can I talk to Buddy?” she said.
“He left town with his girlfriend. His landlord said the two moved to Florida. No forwarding address.”
She wanted to see the contents of the flash drive for no other reason than to dig deeper into Willis’s activities. “Is the bank open?”
“Until five,” Ted said. “I have extra flash drives if you want to copy it. Bet we can make it happen at the bank.”
“I’d like for Vicki and Isabella to ride along.”
“I know where Ted keeps his gun,” Vicki said. “No reason to babysit me.”
“I’d rather you didn’t have to use it and put Isabella in the path of a bullet.” Why couldn’t the Snyders see the foolishness of their decisions? She wanted to snatch Isabella from the high chair and speed back to Houston.
Vicki wiped green bean slobber from Isabella’s mouth. “All right. We’ll go with you.”
Once April had the flash drive, she’d read the documentation and make a judgment call before copying it and forwarding to Simon. No way would she send information without being apprised herself. It might be a source for further investigation of the county sheriff.
“I’d like to make a phone call before we leave,” April said.
He stood. “You can use our bedroom for privacy, and we’ll load up Isabella.”
She followed Ted to a small bedroom decorated with multicolored quilts. He excused himself and closed the door behind him. She pressed in Simon’s number, wanting to see if he’d uncovered anything about Willis.
“April, what’s up?” he said.
“I’m with Ted and Vicki Snyder. Isabella is with them.” She relayed the conversation she’d had with them. “Once I read what’s there and confirm it’s of value to an investigation, I’ll put it in your Dropbox.” A laptop was perched on top of a dresser. She’d ask to borrow it later.
“Do your best to persuade the Snyders to seek protection,” Simon said.
“You must have additional information or you’d not make that recommendation.”
“Nothing I can pass on yet. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes with the SAC and two agents who are familiar with an ongoing case regarding Sheriff Lennox.”
She startled. “What kind of case? Who are the agents?”
“I can’t share that yet, April. I don’t have clearance.”
“Okay.” She didn’t like it, but she understood procedure. “Call me when it’s over.”
“I’d feel better if you’d drive back to Houston.”
“Not until I’m assured Isabella is safe. Would you have an agent keep an eye on the Snyders?”
“I
’ll try. I’m already in hot water from making your other requests without the supervisor’s approval. When Sheriff Lennox reported Jason Snyder kidnapped his daughter and a federal agent, he drew in the FBI. He tried to boot us off the case, but it didn’t work.”
“What’s Willis’s attitude now?”
“He’s cooperating. Offered to come to Houston on Monday and straighten out what he refers to as a civil dispute.”
April blew out her exasperation.
“After what you’ve experienced, I’d like to cuff the sheriff too.”
She inhaled. “So far, Willis has covered his rear. But there must be more to Russell Edwards’s murder than we’re aware. Willis has slipped up somewhere. He has a weak link, and I intend to find it.”
“This is not your case, your mission, or your responsibility.”
How could she explain her reasoning when she hadn’t processed it all herself? Isabella was an innocent victim, and Willis had used her as a pawn for his own arrogance and greed. He’d threatened a child’s life. For that alone, she wanted to see him stand before a judge. Willis had admitted to breaking the law to find his wife and son. Make murder charges go away? She believed in Jason’s innocence.
“April, why?”
“Willis made it personal.”
“Not good enough. Send me everything you find today, then drive back to Houston first thing in the morning. Jason Snyder doesn’t need a negotiator.”
She swallowed a sharp retort. If she wasn’t going to be allowed to work his case in an official capacity . . . “I’m requesting leave.”
Simon huffed and was silent for a long moment. “And you’re taking a wrecking ball to your career.”
“I’ll chance it. I’m not leaving an innocent man to face false charges. Neither am I walking away from a county sheriff who threatened a baby and me.”
“Think about what you’re saying. You’ve never taken a position like this before.”
“I’ve thought it through.” She forced herself to relax.
“Promise me you’ll wait for me to handle intel from this end before applying for leave.”
“I’ll delay until tomorrow.” She imagined Simon’s response to her next requests. He’d probably quote the page and line of the law. “I want subpoenas to access all of Willis’s financials. He offered $15,000 to Jason in exchange for information about Billie and Zack. Said he had the money in the trunk of his cruiser. I’m not saying the money was there, but . . .” She paced the floor. Since he had his money tied up locally, the bank might try to ignore the subpoena or draw a motion for a protective order.
“Doubt your request will be approved. You’re not assigned to this case. Neither am I. Interfering in an investigation without clearance can get you in a lot of trouble.”
“I prefer the term undercover.”
“Sounds more like insubordination to me. I’ll do what I can to keep you in the loop. But I’m not doing a thing without approval. You can destroy your career, but I’m keeping mine intact.” Simon sighed. “I assume you’ll be using this new number until you return to Houston.”
“Yes.”
“Does Snyder think he can avoid us by using a burner?”
“He understands phones can be traced.”
With the conversation over, she dropped her phone into her purse. She shuddered at the thought of what it would take to have the Snyders agree to FBI protection.
She drove the Snyders to Farmers’ Bank in Sweet Briar since the car seat was in the Camry. Vicki rode in the rear with Isabella. April took in the surroundings, looking for the unusual or sinister.
“It’s broad daylight,” Ted said. “Do you really think Willis might pull something stupid in the middle of town?”
“I think you know the answer,” she said.
They wordlessly entered the bank. Ted made his request to a customer service representative, and he and April were escorted to the safe-deposit box area. Ted used a bio-scan of his hand, entered a PIN, and inserted his key into the box. He opened a legal-size gray metal container. Sorting through envelopes and papers, he shook his head and repeated the process.
“The flash drive’s gone,” he said.
15
APRIL SAW STAGGERING DEFEAT on Ted’s face. He gripped the edge of the table.
“Ted, who else has access to your safe-deposit box?” April said.
He swallowed hard. “Just me and Vicki.”
Her mind spun with questions. Could someone have stolen it? Had she been deceived by all the Snyders? She chose her words carefully. “It’s difficult but not impossible for a person to gain access to a safe-deposit box, anyone’s safe-deposit box. If that person is determined, he’ll find a way.”
He dragged his hand over his face. “The PIN is kept in a file on my computer. A person could hack into our system and find it. But what about the key and our handprints?”
“Where’s the key kept?”
“In a lockbox in my closet,” Ted said.
“When was the last time either of you checked your safe-deposit box?”
“When I put the flash drive there. Two weeks ago.”
“Do you have a list of everything kept in the box?” April said.
“At home.”
“Okay. Good. Right now I suggest reporting the missing item to the bank manager.”
Before she could say more, Ted appeared to have regained his composure. “I’ll look at our list when we get home and compare it to what’s here.”
“Do you want to snap a few pictures of the contents?” April said.
He pulled out his phone. “The bank will have record of when the box’s been opened, right? Their info could help us figure out who is responsible.”
“Others could have missing items too. We could ask to see the security footage.” The bank requesting a subpoena crossed her mind.
“Good idea. I’ve done business with this bank all my life and never had a problem.”
In the bank’s lobby, Ted told Vicki what he’d discovered.
She clung to Isabella as if for support. “This scares me, Ted.”
“I’m not leaving until I have answers.” He squared his shoulders and approached a teller and asked to see the bank manager. The four of them were ushered into a small, airy office where a young man who looked fresh out of college introduced himself as Vic Henley, the assistant bank manager. He invited them to sit. April stood while Vicki and Isabella took one seat and Ted eased onto another. The young man closed the door, and Ted outlined the situation.
“Sir, are you sure the flash drive was in the box? Possibly you removed it and the matter slipped your mind.” The young man tapped his fingers on the desk. A nervous habit?
Ted braced his hands on the arms of his chair. “I’m not senile or afflicted with dementia, sonny. I suggest you offer your assistance in getting to the bottom of my problem, or the bank and your insolence will be plastered across the media.”
April held her breath to keep from laughing. You go, Ted.
“I apologize for sounding insensitive.” Henley folded trembling hands. “No one could have gained access to your safe-deposit box without the three items you already mentioned.”
“Then you won’t have any problem showing me the records for my account.”
Henley blinked. “I can look them up, and we can determine the last time you accessed the box.”
“Here’s my info.” Ted gave him his financial information and driver’s license for ID.
Henley typed into his desktop. Sweat beaded on his forehead in a room that registered sixty-four degrees. “A week ago, you were—”
“Not me,” Ted said. “Now would be a good time to show me the camera footage.”
“We can’t do that, sir.”
“This young woman here is FBI Special Agent April Ramos. I need her counsel.” Ted peered up at her. “How should I proceed?”
She pulled her wallet from her shoulder bag and presented her FBI ID. “I can order a subpoena, or yo
u can cooperate. Since it looks like the bank faulted on their commitment to security, it may be in your best interest to show us the footage.”
“I need to check with my manager.”
“By all means.” She gave Henley a smile. After all, he was only doing his job.
The young man made the call, and at 5:15 p.m., after the bank doors were locked, he received permission. A few keystrokes, and he studied the screen before turning it for them to view. “This shows the entrance to the bank five minutes before the timestamp on your box’s last access log. The man you’re about to see signed in as Ted Snyder.”
Ted and April gathered around the screen. Isabella fussed and Vicki tended to her. A man approached the scan. Slender build. Glasses. Heavy beard. Jeans. Boots. Baseball cap.
“Do you know him?” April said.
Ted shook his head. “Never seen him before.” He bored a sharp gaze in Vic Henley’s face. “Who’s the employee who helped the imposter?”
Henley rubbed the back of his neck. “Mr. Snyder, I appreciate your concern. If you could give me until tomorrow noon to rectify this, I’m sure you’ll have a full explanation of the issue.”
Ted glanced up at April. “What do you think?”
“I suggest taking screenshots of the online records in case they’re accidentally deleted.”
Henley shook his head. “These belong to the bank.”
Ted snorted and pulled out his phone. “Then close your eyes. Looks like you’re good at it.”
16
AS APRIL DROVE BACK to the Snyder home, she processed Vic Henley’s body language and verbal responses as well as the missing flash drive. Someone broke the law to access Ted’s safe-deposit box, and Henley’s nervousness indicated he might know about it. Willis? According to Ted, the information on the flash drive was circumstantial . . . unless Willis feared other things were on it too. But how did someone even have an inkling to check the safe-deposit box?
“April,” Ted said from the passenger side of the car, “when I first made note of Willis depositing $10,000 in four accounts, Vic Henley was the one who handled the transaction. He seems real shady to me.”