by Lisa Harris
Jonas looked at Madison. They’d both hoped that whatever had happened in this house last night would move them one step closer to finding their fugitives. But if Bart Wells was right, this had been nothing more than a random burglary.
TWENTY-FOUR
Madison sat quietly as Jonas drove them back to the US Marshals building, frustrated that they were no further ahead than they had been yesterday, with no idea if their suspects were still here in the city. And that wasn’t all that had her mind racing. Something seemed off with Bart’s testimony, but she hadn’t been able to put her finger on it.
“You’ve been pretty quiet since we left. Is everything okay?” Jonas said, pulling into a parking space near their offices.
“Maybe it’s just a gut feeling, but something isn’t adding up for me,” she said, making no move to get out of the car.
“So you’re not buying the idea that Bart was in the wrong place at the wrong time twice in two days?”
“It wouldn’t be impossible, but it’s more than that.” She shifted toward him, trying to put her thoughts into words. “I admit there isn’t anything significant, but there are too many similarities in both robberies. A couple dressed in black, wearing face masks, and one with a tattoo on his wrist. Security systems were taken down in both, and we have little to no hard evidence pointing us to our suspects.”
Jonas tapped his hands on the steering wheel. “I agree, but what’s his motivation for lying to us? And even more important, why would our fugitives, who have already stolen several hundred thousand dollars, decide to rob him for a couple hundred dollars in cash?”
“They have money, but there’s something we know they don’t have,” Madison said.
He paused for a minute. She could see the inner workings of his mind spinning through the expression that crossed his face. A second later his eyes lit up. “Passports. A way out.”
“Exactly. They’re trapped in the city. And they are going to have to do something out of the box to escape.”
“Any ideas?” Jonas asked.
“Let’s play what-if.”
“Okay.”
“We talked about whoever broke into my house probably using the recent rise in burglaries as a cover-up. What if the one at Bart’s home was staged?”
“Explain,” Jonas said.
“Did anything about his story seem off?”
“That’s easy. The fact that his petite wife scared off the would-be robbers?”
“I thought the same thing.”
“So the robbery was simply a cover-up for . . . I don’t know . . . blackmail? Extortion?”
“What if they weren’t after money, but something he could give them? I need to look at something from the bank.” Madison got out of the car, then pulled out her phone and called Piper.
“Deputy James, is there anything I can do for you?”
“Yes, Deputy Quinn and I are heading up to the office now. Is there any chance you got any footage from the safe-deposit room at the bank robbery?”
“Actually, yes, we did. I’m assuming that because they hadn’t planned to be in there, they didn’t take out those cameras.”
“Great. We’re on our way in. Please have the footage cued up for us.”
“I’m on it.”
She headed toward the building with Jonas, unable to shake what had been nagging at her ever since they’d spoken with Bart and his wife. There were too many similarities between their fugitives and whoever had broken into the Wells home. And the only thing suggesting they dismiss the connection was Bart’s insistence that they weren’t the same people. While she had no reason to believe the man was lying, neither was she simply going to take what he said as truth.
Piper was sitting in front of a computer and had just pulled up the time stamp Madison had asked for when they arrived.
“Can you tell me what you’re looking for?” Piper asked, looking up at them.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. Let’s just run through everything.”
Madison pulled out the notes she’d taken during their interview with Bart to use as a reference. The angle didn’t allow them to see what was in the Wellses’ lockbox, but they could see Bart’s back.
She watched the silent video as Bart pulled an item—an envelope, maybe—out of his pocket, then noticed that something was going on in the other room. Seconds later, he turned toward the camera. She could see the indecision on his face as he tried to figure out what was going on. He spun back around, knocking his phone off the table, then went to grab it. One of the robbers—Jesse—moved into the room and started shouting at him. Bart lay down on the floor while Jesse rummaged through the box, grabbing a few things in the process.
Madison leaned over Piper and stopped the video. The entire onscreen interaction took less than thirty seconds.
“Overall, the time line seems to fit,” Jonas said.
“I agree. Except for one thing. The envelope. Let it run a few more seconds, Piper.”
They watched as Jesse looked inside the envelope he’d picked up, said something to Bart, then shoved it into his pocket.
“Why take the envelope?” Piper said.
“That’s what I want to know. Can you go back to the beginning? Just a few seconds before what we just saw.”
Piper ran the video back to when Bart first walked in.
“Stop there,” Madison said. “Bart told us he went to the bank because he was taking something out. An anniversary ring he’d bought for his wife. And yet when he walks in, he pulls something out of his pocket.”
“It’s hard to see because of the camera angle,” Jonas said, “but I think you’re right. It definitely looks like an envelope.”
“And then Jesse takes the envelope with him.”
“It seems like a stretch to think Bart’s hiding something just because he brought an envelope to the bank,” Jonas said. “The guy was rattled and could have forgotten. Or didn’t think it worth mentioning.”
“I agree, but I still find it significant that Jesse took that envelope with him after peeking inside it. Which makes me believe that Bart had a reason not to tell us.” Madison turned to Piper. “Can you zoom in on the envelope?”
“I can try, but it will lose some of the resolution.”
“Just do your best.”
“Okay,” she said, before enlarging the frame. “What do you think? That’s as good as I can do and all I can see is a stamp that looks like it’s part of a logo. Something . . . gations.”
Jonas leaned against the edge of the desk. “Litigations. Interrogations—”
“Investigations?” Piper asked.
“That fits,” Madison said. “What if Bart hired a private investigator?”
“He might have,” Jonas said. “But why?”
“There are dozens of reasons, but maybe the question to ask is why someone would think that whatever is in an envelope is worth keeping.” Madison paced back and forth, working to put the pieces together. They were still dealing with unsubstantiated what-ifs, but their theory made sense. Now they had to test it.
“I think our next step should be having another talk with him,” Jonas said.
“Agreed. We need to know what’s in that envelope, why he didn’t tell us about it, and why our fugitives believed it was worth taking.”
“What can I do?” Piper asked.
“Do a deeper search into Bart Wells. If our fugitives are using him somehow, we need to know what’s going on.”
Twenty-five minutes later, they were back in front of the home on Queen Anne Hill. Jonas knocked on the door, then stepped back while they waited for someone to answer. This time Mrs. Wells didn’t seem as anxious to see them.
“Hello again, Mrs. Wells. We need to speak to your husband again,” Madison said. “It will only take a few minutes.”
The woman made no move to invite them in. “I’m sorry, but Bart really isn’t feeling well. He went to lie down.”
“This is very important.”
She hesitated in the doorway. “You found who broke in?”
“Not yet, but—”
Bart walked up behind his wife. “It’s fine, Trudy. I’ll talk to them.” He motioned them inside. “We can use my office.”
“You are supposed to be resting,” his wife countered.
“I promise to go back and lie down as soon as we’re finished, but if you could make some tea in the meantime, I’d appreciate it. I was just coming down for some.” He turned toward Madison and Jonas. “I’m still trying to knock out this headache.”
“Okay . . .” Trudy ran her hand up and down her husband’s arm. “Finish up quickly, and I’ll bring it to the room.”
“She worries too much,” Bart said once they’d stepped into his office. “But maybe she has a point. The last few days have been rough.”
“She has every reason to be upset,” Madison said.
Bart reached up and touched the place where he’d been hit the night before, his frown deepening. “Please tell me you found something.”
Jonas glanced at Madison. “We’re not sure, to be honest. We do, however, need to clear up a discrepancy in your statement.”
Bart sank into his leather chair and rested his elbows on the desk. “Of course. Anything you need.”
He motioned to two chairs across from him, and the marshals sat as well.
“We were able to watch a video from the safe-deposit room on the day of the robbery,” Madison said. “You told us that you were at the bank to pick up your wife’s anniversary ring.”
“I was. Did you find it?”
“Unfortunately we didn’t, but we did discover something else,” Madison said. “We noticed you dropped an envelope during the encounter with one of the fugitives. An envelope you’d pulled out of your pocket.”
“An envelope?” Bart fidgeted in his chair. “Of course. I’m sorry, I completely forgot. I’ve had a splitting headache since the incident and am having trouble focusing.”
“I understand,” Madison said, trying to keep her voice steady. “We’re just trying to track down every possible lead. Can you tell us what was in the envelope?”
“It was just some legal documents connected to my business that I recently had drawn up with my lawyer. I decided to drop it by the bank at the same time.”
“It must have been important paperwork, considering you planned to put it in your box.” She noticed the way Bart’s shoulders had tensed. “You never mentioned what the security footage shows—that our suspects took that envelope after looking inside, which infers that whatever it held was potentially valuable to them.”
Bart shook his head. “I don’t know what they were thinking. There’s no intrinsic value to the paperwork.”
“Is that why you never mentioned it?” Jonas asked.
“It was simply an oversight on my part.”
Madison’s phone rang. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to take this call.”
She slipped out of the office and back into the entryway, where she could answer in private. “Piper. What have you got?”
“I hope it’s okay I called, but I found out something that might be important. Mr. Wells owns a private plane and booked an unscheduled flight late last night that left around seven this morning.”
“That’s interesting.” Madison glanced back toward the office. “Do you have the flight manifest?”
“No. I wasn’t able to get that.”
Madison bit her lip. “I want you to try to get ahold of the pilot and see if he can identify them,” she told Piper.
“I’ve already left a message.”
“Good. Where were they headed?”
“The flight was scheduled to land on Orcas Island at eight thirty this morning.”
The San Juan Islands.
Madison paced the tiled floor, trying to process the information. West of the mainland were dozens of islands and reefs. Access to most of them was limited to boat or plane, or to ferry routes that connected the islands to Canada. And it made sense that the fugitives were looking for a way out of Seattle. Not money.
“Do the Wellses own any property up there?” Madison asked. “There are dozens of islands off the coast, which would make it easy to simply vanish. We need to narrow it down.”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”
Madison ended her call with Piper and headed back into the office. There was no way anyone could convince her that Bart’s booking a flight out of Seattle after a home invasion was a coincidence. Jesse and Nadia had been in this house.
She nodded at Jonas before sitting back down. She’d already decided to cut right to the chase. “Bart, let’s stop wasting each other’s time. We know the people who broke in here didn’t need money, but there is something else they needed. A way out of the country. And you’re the perfect person to arrange that for them.”
Bart shifted in his chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, but I think you do,” she countered. “All they needed was a way to motivate you, and that’s exactly what they found in that envelope.”
“I told you, it was just some papers I had drawn up about a property I own.”
He picked up his phone and started texting frantically.
“Hold on,” Jonas said. “Please put your phone on the desk.”
Bart hesitated. He took a look at both marshals, then complied.
She picked it up. “They know,” she read. “I’m guessing this is for the friends you made last night?”
“You don’t understand. If this gets out, they can end my career. And if my wife finds out—”
“It’s too late,” Jonas said. “We’ve already put most of the puzzle together.”
“I was telling the truth about the ring. I went to the bank to get it.” He blew out a breath. “But I was also there to stow the envelope.”
“And what was really in that envelope?” Madison asked. “I’m guessing photos of some sort.”
“I don’t have to answer that.”
“No, you don’t,” Jonas said, standing up and placing his hands on the desk. “But you can either cooperate and help us catch our fugitives, or we’ll charge you as an accessory to felony bank robbery, murder, attempted murder—”
“You can’t do that.”
Madison leaned forward. “On top of the evidence we already have, the pilot of that flight you scheduled for this morning will be able to identify our fugitives.”
Bart let out a sharp huff of air. “I had heard rumors about my opponent in the mayoral race, so I hired a PI to see if he could get anything on him. And he did. I found out that he’s a family man who’s had more than one mistress on the side.”
“And you thought if you blackmailed him, you could force him to step down,” Jonas said. “Leaving you with the advantage to win the election.”
“It was a way for me to move forward in the race, yes.”
“Well, I think it’s safe to say that your plans for the White House might be out of the question now,” Madison said, “but that’s a discussion for another day, because they clearly weren’t here to rob you last night.”
“No. They . . . they took the photos, realized who I was, and decided that they could blackmail me.”
“Blackmailing the blackmailer.” Jonas looked at Madison. “Not a bad plan, I suppose.”
“And the pistol-whipping?” Madison asked.
“I . . . I thought it would make the robbery look more authentic. But Trudy heard the commotion and came downstairs, and then she had to call Glenda . . . Everything just quickly spiraled out of control.”
“So why don’t you tell us what really happened last night.”
Bart’s shoulders slumped. Madison almost felt bad for the man, but then she remembered the chaos of the last forty-eight hours. The man had successfully dug his own grave.
“I . . . I opened the door, thinking it was my friend, like I said.” Bart stared at his hands as he spoke. “They forced their way in
and told me that they weren’t here to rob me but needed something else. I knew right away who they were, knew they had the contents of that envelope. It didn’t take me long to realize what they wanted.”
Bart paused for a long moment before continuing. “They said they wanted to make a deal with me—but it’s not like I had a choice. They’d figured out what I was doing with the photos and said they wouldn’t leak them or what I’d done to the media if I would help them leave Seattle. They were waiting on new passports, but with all the checkpoints in place, they were worried about getting to the border without getting caught. I arranged to fly them out of the city. They’re planning to hole up on one of the islands until their passports are ready, then they’ll cross into Canada.”
“Where are they staying?” Madison asked.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s a little late to be lying to us,” Jonas said.
“I’m not lying.” His voice cracked as it rose in pitch. “I figured the less I knew, the better. I said I’d get them to the islands, then they were on their own.” He tapped his fingers against the desk. “So what happens now?”
“To you or your campaign?” Madison asked.
“I could tell the mayor we’ll go ahead with the race, and he doesn’t have to drop out. No more blackmail. Whoever wins, wins fair and square.”
“It isn’t really our role to decide that,” Jonas said, “but it’s a little too late to keep your involvement quiet.”
“Can’t we make some kind of deal? I’ll cooperate.”
Madison stood up with Jonas. “We don’t make those decisions, but you still broke the law. Washington State has some pretty tough penalties when it comes to blackmail and extortion. You could easily get five, even ten, years in prison.”
“Even if I cooperate with you?”
Madison nodded. She stepped around the desk, then read Bart his rights before handcuffing him. “You decided to blackmail someone and were okay with it until you got caught. But that’s no different than the bank robbers that are blackmailing you.”