Silenced lk-4

by Allison Brennan

  He stared at the senator, torn.

  Then he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Noah spoke to Lucy on his cell while he waited for Senator Paxton. He didn’t like waiting, especially since Paxton had called him, but was glad he had the opportunity to verify that Lucy had no serious injuries.

  Lucy was emphatic that the murder of Wendy James was connected to the other crime scenes, and she made a compelling case, but what Slater said earlier was still true: They had no hard evidence.

  “You’re taking the rest of the day off,” Noah told Lucy over the phone.

  “Is that an order?”

  “Yes. I’ll stop by later. Where will you be?”

  “Home, where else?”

  “I assumed Sean would take you to his place.”

  “Oh. Maybe. Kate’s here now.”

  Noah was surprised Sean wasn’t glued to her side. He hoped the hotheaded Rogan didn’t do something unwise, like try and find the driver of the van. Noah wouldn’t put it past him.

  “Don’t work too hard,” he told Lucy.

  “You just ordered me to take the day off.”

  “Were you going to obey me?”

  She laughed. “No. But I will stay at home. I don’t think Kate is going to take me anywhere else.”

  “Good. If you’re compelled to do anything, write up a report on the accident. I need to debrief you anyway, and putting it on paper will help you remember the details. And I’ll have a courier bring over a copy of the James file for you to review. I have two analysts going over everything we’ve uncovered, but you have a different perspective.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  She sounded excited about paperwork. She’d be the first, Noah thought. “I also want to get your assessment on the suspect.”

  “I already told you I didn’t get a good look at him, but his van will be damaged.”

  “I meant Hannah Edmonds, aka Ivy Harris.”

  “Ivy isn’t her name?”

  “No. She’s the daughter of televangelist Kirk Edmonds.”

  “I’ve never heard of him. Why did you call her a suspect?”

  “She is a person of interest in the kidnapping of Sara Edmonds.”

  “Sara? Mrs. Neel said her sister was named Mina.”

  “I’m going to talk to Mrs. Neel shortly, but I think Mina and Sara are two different girls. One a prostitute, the other the missing daughter of Reverend Edmonds. I’ll send everything I know so you can get up to speed.”

  “You don’t know that she kidnapped her sister. Sara could have run away.”

  “But we won’t know until we talk to her. She’s a fourteen-year-old girl who was living for the last ten days in a house with known prostitutes, two of whom are dead.”

  “Ivy was extremely protective of her sister. If you find her, she’s going to be difficult to talk to. Get someone like Hans to work with her.”

  “You were with her for less than ten minutes. I don’t think that’s enough to judge.”

  “It’s more than enough.”

  Paxton opened his door and waved at Noah. He said to Lucy, “I have to go. Just read the file and then we’ll talk.” He hung up and walked over to shake Paxton’s hand.

  “Senator.”

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Agent Armstrong, it was one of those calls that’s hard to get off. Please come in.”

  Paxton closed the door and sat down behind his antique desk. He motioned for Noah to take a seat across from him.

  Noah glanced around the room before he sat, getting a snapshot assessment of Paxton. He’d been here before, months ago. Standard Senate office-large, ornate, stately.

  “I’ve debated with myself whether to call ever since I heard that Alan’s mistress was murdered.”

  Noah was certainly curious, but he couldn’t imagine what Paxton had to say. “I can’t discuss the investigation with you. I thought you wanted to talk about Chris Taylor.”

  “I did want to inquire about the status of your investigation, but when Detective Reid came by this morning with Lucy, I was under the impression that it was a Metro Police investigation, not federal.”

  “We’re working with them.” Stockton hadn’t officially released the information that the FBI had taken over the case. That situation was still being smoothed over with DC Metro, as best as could be done under the circumstances.

  “I’m not proud of my actions, but I don’t regret them. Unless what I did led to that poor girl’s death.”

  The hair on Noah’s skin vibrated with energy. It was the same feeling he’d had in the Air Force when he sensed something was amiss. Noah homed in on Paxton’s carefully chosen words.

  What I did led to the poor girl’s death.

  “Explain.”

  “It’s no secret Alan and I don’t get along. Frankly, I think he’s a pig. Everyone in the building knows he’s cheated on his wife. And most everyone looks the other way. It’s like infidelity is a misdemeanor. But if someone can’t respect his marital vows, how can he respect promises to his constituents? If he can lie to his wife, it must be that much easier to lie to the American people.”

  “Senator, I’m not interested in a campaign speech.”

  Paxton’s cheek twitched with irritation.

  “I was the anonymous source who gave the pictures of Alan and Ms. James to the tabloid.”

  The confession surprised Noah. He had to pause before he could ask a question without stammering.

  “You told the press about the affair?”

  Paxton waved his hand in the air as if swatting a fly. “The press already knew. But they didn’t have proof. It’s sad that to run with the story, they wanted sordid photographs.”

  “Which you provided.”

  “I did.”

  “I have a hard time believing you followed Congressman Crowley.”

  “I didn’t. I hired a professional. Don’t be so skeptical, Agent Armstrong. Husbands and wives do it to each other all the time. If Janet Crowley had hired a private investigator to get photos of her husband’s infidelity in order to divorce that bastard, no one would think twice.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “Why do you think?”

  Noah didn’t answer the question. He stared at Paxton until he answered.

  “Alan’s a prick.”

  “He’s in your political party.”

  Paxton laughed heartily, then cleared his throat. “After California went through their redistricting, Alan was gerrymandered into a much different seat, one that would be far more outraged about his infidelity. I have a protege who can defeat him in the primary, but it would be costly. I would much rather have him resign over the affair.”

  “You did this as a campaign stunt?”

  “Stunt? Hardly the right word. I did it because he’s a jerk. He’s talking about running for U.S. Senate and I don’t want him on my side of the building.”

  “And you don’t feel an ounce of remorse for what happened to Wendy James?”

  “If she was killed because I exposed the truth, I sincerely regret it. But however much I despise Alan Crowley, however much I want him to be guilty, he’s not a killer, or a rapist.”

  “She wasn’t raped.”

  Paxton said, “The press reported there was an attempted rape.”

  “The press isn’t always right.”

  Paxton visibly relaxed. “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “It’s tragic she was killed. She was a young, beautiful woman with her whole life ahead of her, regardless of the mistakes she made. But to be raped and then murdered is the most vile crime that can be committed on a woman. There’s a special place in Hell for men like that.”

  Noah hoped there was a special place in Hell for puppeteers like Paxton. He wished there was some way he could officially bring Paxton in for questioning. He could probably think of something-withholding information from the FBI for one, because he suspected there was more to
this story than Paxton had told-but his actions would be out of spite.

  The truth was hard to argue against.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Sean stepped out of the closet. He didn’t know how he felt about what he had just heard. He understood Paxton’s motives-he’d done similar things, exposing people who deserved it while keeping his own hands clean. He’d learned the hard way that gloating could get him in trouble.

  He didn’t want to like Paxton. He didn’t like Paxton. But he understood him.

  What he didn’t understand was how Paxton could hurt Lucy. She would be devastated if she found out that Paxton had pulled strings to get her into the FBI Academy. And if he was determined to be corrupt, her career would be tainted. If that note she allegedly wrote came out, the media, or the FBI, could make it sound like anything they wanted. Even if it was innocuous, they could make it appear like she was keeping Paxton’s secret-accessory after the fact-so that she could get his help. She had made it very well known that all she wanted was to be an FBI agent. The people in charge could even make it look like Paxton got her in so he could have his own bought-and-paid-for agent.

  “Now do you understand?”

  Sean had been trying to put together the information Paxton had given him earlier with what he said to Noah. “What do the note and locket have to do with exposing Crowley?”

  “It has everything to do with it. The locket disappeared after I turned over the photographs to the press.”

  “Coincidence?”

  “No. I was threatened. If I didn’t back off, the caller would expose the secrets of the locket. The thing is, there are no secrets. It belonged to my daughter. It’s all I have left of her. I want it back. But if they know about Morton-if that’s what they meant about ‘secret,’ then I can’t risk exposure.”

  “But you killed him,” Sean said matter-of-factly.

  “Lucy will be irreparably damaged as well. I’m not willing to take the risk. Are you?”

  “You bastard. You’ve dirtied her entire career.”

  “Don’t be so melodramatic, Rogan. I’m going to set things right. I always do.” He almost sounded pained, but Paxton was a politician and a liar. He didn’t care about what happened to Lucy.

  “Who else knows about the note?”

  “No one. At least, no one knows Lucy wrote the message. But several people know she had the locket. Noah Armstrong gave her Adam Scott’s box and told her to make the decision about whether his victims’ families would want the items back. She worked with the FBI to locate the families and wrote them letters.”

  Sean hadn’t known. Six months ago, he and Lucy had just started seeing each other. He shouldn’t be hurt she hadn’t included him, but he was. The experience must have been extremely painful and difficult for her, in light of the fact Adam Scott had kidnapped, raped, and nearly killed her. Yet she worked with Noah on it.

  Sean didn’t want to help Senator Paxton, but did he really have a choice? Even if the note could never be linked to her, Paxton’s unspoken threat to reveal that he’d pulled strings to get Lucy into the Academy hit home.

  “Whoever took the locket has access to your office,” Sean said.

  “I’ve already had you run background checks on everyone I thought might have done it-”

  “I’ll run background checks on everyone who’s come in and out of your office.”

  Paxton reluctantly agreed. “Very well. I have a window as to when it went missing. I’ll get you my appointment books. But Sergio Russo already went through-”

  “Sergio Russo isn’t me.”

  “I’ll get you everything you need first thing in the morning.”

  “Tonight.”

  Sean was about to leave when he remembered what Lucy had said about the three murders. Paxton didn’t know that Wendy James was connected to the two prostitutes. But if the photos started this chain of events, that made Paxton indirectly responsible for all five deaths.

  He couldn’t help but rub that in.

  “Noah didn’t say anything to you, but the FBI is taking over the investigation into the murders at the Hotel Potomac. They’re connected to Wendy James. The same person who killed her also killed four other people. Think about that, Senator, since you don’t seem to regret what you did. If it were me-and it has been in the past-my fingerprints would never be on it. I’ve destroyed pricks like Alan Crowley. And no one will know who, because I don’t need to brag about my successes.”

  Sean grinned, gloating. “Hope you get a good night’s sleep.”

  Before he could walk out, Paxton said sharply, “Rogan!”

  Sean turned around.

  “Watch yourself. The statute of limitations isn’t quite up on one of your successes, as you call it, up in Massachusetts. And I don’t think you would do well in prison.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  After leaving the senator’s office, Noah called Rick Stockton directly and told him about Paxton’s confession.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t a crime to expose an extramarital affair. The motive didn’t matter: Truth was almost always a defense.

  Paxton seemed contrite that his clandestine release of the compromising photographs might have led to the murder of Wendy James. If he had known that his acts would result in a death, he could be culpable. It was a stretch, and proving it would be next to impossible. Noah didn’t know how many affairs were publicly exposed, but rarely did they end like that of Wendy James.

  But Paxton was a politician, and Noah wasn’t sure how much of his sincerity was an act.

  Noah needed to find the woman who called herself Ivy Harris, so he drove back to where she was last seen. He had reviewed what little they had on her-under both her alias and her real name.

  Hannah Edmonds was one of three daughters of televangelist Kirk Edmonds. A widower, Reverend Edmonds had a successful ministry in Allegheny County in the northwest of Maryland. The closest city to his base was Cumberland, but the small unincorporated town he lived in had less than three hundred people, almost all of whom worked for Hope Ministries.

  Noah could imagine that growing up in a small, sheltered religious community was the breeding ground for teenage rebellion, but faking a suicide seemed awfully sophisticated for a fourteen-year-old.

  According to the records the local FBI office had on Hannah Edmonds, she’d been diagnosed bipolar manic-depressive when she was thirteen, after she first tried to kill herself. Eighteen months on a variety of medications seemed to be working, then her father learned she’d tricked the household staff and hadn’t been taking her medication at all.

  There was a history of mental illness in the family. Hannah’s mother had killed herself and tried to kill her two youngest children. Hannah had been seven at the time. She and the baby, Sara, had miraculously survived when Marie Edmonds intentionally drove her vehicle into a security fence.

  Noah didn’t have a lot of experience with mental illnesses like manic depression, but he knew enough to know that Hannah was dangerous to herself and others. If she felt trapped, scared, hopeless, what might she do to her sister? Could they believe anything she said?

  He needed to get her into custody and have her evaluated. She seemed to be the one connection between everything that had happened since Monday-what if she was behind the deaths? What if she was working with an accomplice?

  It seemed a stretch, considering that she’d been shot at after Lucy and Genie picked her up, but maybe that wasn’t what it appeared to be on the surface. Maybe her partner thought he was breaking her out of custody.

  It didn’t feel right to him, but he had to focus on the facts, and right now, he didn’t know why Hannah Edmonds had changed her name, how or why her sister was in DC and whether she was truly kidnapped or ran away, or what Hannah’s relationship was with Wendy James or the other victims. All he had were statements, some which conflicted, from a sitting U.S. senator, a social worker, and a retired neighbor. There were a lot of facts, but few connections.

 
; Noah retraced Lucy’s steps from the Hawthorne house to the crash site.

  Genie’s car had already been pulled from the embankment and sat on the back of a flatbed tow truck. It would be transported to the FBI garage for forensic analysis and trace evidence, which had meant Noah had used a lot of fast-talking and arm-twisting to take custody of it from Metro. But someone had shot at a federal employee, and even though Genie was a DC cop, the federal government still had more resources to process the evidence.

  It would be easy to match up the damage on the car with the van. But first they had to find it, and so far, nothing. He had the tech squad looking at traffic cams, but in this neighborhood, they were few and far between. He had them focusing on the major streets out of the area, but it was a labor-intensive project that often failed to yield results.

  Where had Ivy gone? She disappeared as law enforcement arrived. She knew the area well. They still hadn’t found Jocelyn Taylor’s car which had last been seen when Ivy drove from the Hotel Potomac the night of the murders.

  Or maybe she knew someone who lived in the area, someone who was willing to help her.

  He went back to Hawthorne Street and knocked on Patricia Neel’s door. The elderly woman answered and smiled broadly, her reading glasses falling off her nose and hanging on a chain around her neck.

  Noah held up his badge. “Mrs. Neel, I’m Agent Noah Armstrong with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He pocketed his identification. “We spoke earlier today on the phone.”

  “Yes, about the theft.”

  “Did my agent come by and take your statement?”

  “Oh, yes, they just left. Would you like some lemonade? I made it for them, I have plenty.”

  “No, thank you. I need to follow up on your statement earlier today to my colleague, Ms. Kincaid.”

  “What a sweet young woman,” Mrs. Neel smiled broadly. “So polite.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I have a few follow-up questions.”