by Kimberly Rae
His eyes widened. “That’s in his room?” Steve nodded. Cole’s voice dropped enough to be frightening. “Is it as big as it looks?”
“Bigger.”
Meagan wrapped her arms around herself and looked out the window into the woods surrounding her house. Was he out there somewhere, watching? Was he always watching? Was she losing it?
The phone dinged in her purse; someone had left a message. “Mind if I check your phone?” Steve asked. Meagan shook her head, watching like a bystander in her own life as Steve dug through her purse, Quinn looked through a batch of letters she supposedly wrote, and Cole stood to the side, his face so seemingly sincere, his eyes so full of apparent care. She looked away.
Steve pushed buttons. “Your phone is different than mine,” he said and handed the phone to her. “Would you play the message you just got on speakerphone? And then I’ll want you to show me how to look through your call log.”
She sniffed. “It’s probably the hospital. My grandfather’s there you know, and I’m glad he’s missing this whole horrible mix-up.” She punched in the password to access her voicemail and clicked the phone on speaker.
“Meagan, they’ve been here, to my house,” a voice said. “They’ve seen you here. They have your letters. You have to get away. Don’t go home. He’s there. Go someplace safe. I’ll contact you when I have a place for us.”
“That’s the voice that called me yesterday,” Meagan whispered. She pointed at Quinn. “He said he was you.” She put her head in her hands. “What on earth is going on?”
A hand took her arm. She thought it was Cole and started to pull away, but then glanced up to see it was Steve. “Meagan Winston,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent...”
She stared, her mind blank. Cole came to stand by her side. “What are you arresting her for?” he asked Steve.
Steve led Meagan to the front door. “Aiding and abetting Lucias Maddox Moore in possession and distribution of meth across international borders, and possession of illegal opium from India with intent to distribute in America. Also she’s a possible accessory to attempted murder if she was part of the plan to run you off the road.” He looked from Cole to Meagan. “And she’s a possible accessory to the murder of Claudia Conners.”
45
Monday, January 5
9:45 a.m.
Cole followed Steve and Meagan to the car. She hadn’t said a word since Steve read her the Miranda rights. “Steve, this has to be a mistake.” He opened the door for them with a scowl. “Do you have to cuff her? She’s not dangerous.”
“She might have inspired a guy to murder someone,” Steve said in a clipped tone. “Sounds dangerous to me. Stop interfering.”
There was no arguing with Steve when he was sure of something. Cole turned to Quinn. “Why does he think she might have some connection to a murder?”
Quinn explained about the Claudia Conner’s investigation. He reached into the backseat of the car next to Meagan and pulled out a second box almost identical to the one he held under his arm like a football. “One box has letters from Claudia to Lucias in them.” He lifted his arm a little to indicate the other box. “This one has letters from Meagan. I haven’t had time to read them all since we came straight here from his house, but some of them talk about how she’s glad he chose her instead of Claudia and how she could make him so much happier than Claudia could. They sound borderline obsessive, if you ask me.”
“That’s not Meagan at all.”
Quinn shrugged. “You haven’t known her long. She could be a totally different person in secret.”
“Can I read the letters?” Cole held out his hand for the box but Quinn did not release it.
“They’re evidence.”
Cole leaned to look in Steve’s window. He was in the driver’s seat with his seatbelt buckled. “Steve, let me go over the letters and give you a summary.”
Steve shook his head. “I don’t trust you to be unbiased.” He leaned out the window. “Come on, Quinn. We’re losing time. The deadline is five.”
“I can have the letters read and summarized by three,” Cole offered. “It will give you time to focus on other evidence.”
“Why aren’t you at work?”
Cole held up the newspaper.
“Oh.” Steve drummed his fingers on the dash. “Let him have them, Quinn.” He stared Cole down. “But I want all the evidence you find. Don’t leave anything out.”
Cole took the two boxes from Quinn, then looked Steve in the eye. “I’ve never lied to you, Steve. Or kept secrets you needed to know.”
A look of guilt or shame crossed Steve’s features. He yelled for Quinn to hurry and drove off without speaking to Cole again. Cole caught a glimpse of Meagan’s face in the backseat as they passed. Her eyes were closed, her hands behind her. Steve shouldn’t have put her in handcuffs.
Cole prayed as the car faded from view. Was this arrest aligned somehow with his story in the newspaper? Was someone trying to keep them busy with false evidence to keep them off the real trail?
Quinn said he hadn’t texted Cole or called Meagan.
Steve said he hadn’t given the Iraq story to the media.
Meagan said she had not written the letters in the box.
What if Lucias Moore was orchestrating all of this, and he, Steve, and Quinn were playing right into his hands?
46
Monday, January 5
1:00 p.m.
“Are we ready?”
“I don’t like small rooms.” Quinn wiped his upper lip with the cuff of one of his sleeves. “How about you ask her the questions and I stay on this side of the glass where it’s airy? I’ll write lots of notes.”
Steve adjusted the video monitor until Meagan Winston was perfectly centered. He needed some coffee. “How did you get accepted by the FBI if you’re claustrophobic?”
“They didn’t ask about that during my polygraph test.” Quinn tapped his earpiece. “I guess I’ll get on in there. Hearing everything you say twice is getting annoying.”
Steve sat in front of the monitor but nudged the screen aside. He’d do better watching Meagan through the glass. “Let’s get started.”
He had expected Meagan to fidget, to scratch at the cuff on her arm or pull at the galvanometers secured with Velcro around two of her fingers. She sat like a mannequin as Quinn asked the initial questions. “She’s too passive. I think she’s going to try to beat the test. Ask her if she’s got her toes pressed against the ground.”
“Meagan, are you pressing your feet to the floor?”
She did not look up from the table. “No.” Her voice was wooden.
“Ask her if she’s squeezing her buttocks.”
Quinn had to cover a laugh. He glanced at the glass. Steve knew he could not see through it, but nodded anyway. Quinn asked the question and Meagan’s eyes darted up. “Did you seriously just ask me about my rear end?” she asked.
If Steve had to guess, she was surprised and offended at the question, which would mean she had not been trained on how to manipulate a lie detector test. “Ask her a question we know is true.”
“Meagan, do you work for a ministry called Rahab’s Rope?”
She went back to looking at the table. “I do.”
“Do you work with Kelsey and Nathan Peterson?”
“Yes.”
“Do you consider them friends?”
“Among my best.” Her eyes flickered. “Quinn, can I ask you a question?”
Quinn looked at the glass. “It’s not procedure...”
“Did you really not call me yesterday?”
He shook his head. “I have never called you, Meagan. Did you really think the call was from me?”
Steve leaned forward. The computer screen in front of Steve showed Meagan’s blood pressure, respiratory rate, and electro-dermal activity all remained steady. “I really did.”
“We need to make sure the test works on her. Ask her a personal que
stion, something she feels strongly about.”
“Meagan, do you believe pornography is an innocent pastime?”
Even before she spoke, needles began to fly on the graph. “Pornography feeds human trafficking,” she said. She sat up straight and leaned toward Quinn. “Women and children are victimized and abused for a multi-billion dollar industry.” She curved her fingers into a fist on the table. The needles ran wild. “Don’t you know that people’s brains are literally affected by pornography, like they are by drugs? Eventually just watching isn’t enough. It leads to violence, and even at its initial phase, it destroys real-life relationships.”
Steve tapped his fingers against his chin. “Calm her back down.”
Quinn put his hand near Meagan’s. “Unfold your hand please, Miss Winston.” She did and sat back with a sigh. He checked the graph, then asked, “Meagan, how often do you travel to India?”
“Every six months.”
“Why do you go?”
“To get children out of brothels and give victimized women the hope of the gospel.”
“Did you take drugs on your last trip?”
“No.”
“On any of your trips?”
“No.”
“Did you bring opium back from India on your last trip?”
“No.”
Quinn looked over at the graph again, then at the glass. Steve didn’t know what to make of her. She spoke about the drugs dispassionately. The machine indicated truth. “Ask her about Cole.”
“Meagan Winston, did you believe the story in the newspaper about Cole Fleming this morning?”
Her heart rate increased. “I—I didn’t know what to believe.”
“Do you have personal feelings for Cole Fleming?”
Steve didn’t need the graph. Her eyes glistened and he could see even from a distance that her breathing quickened. “I—I—don’t want to,” she whispered.
“You don’t want to have feelings for him?”
She looked away. “I don’t want to answer that question.”
Steve moved to stand with his nose almost against the glass. “Either she’s the best polygraph manipulator I’ve ever seen, or the machine is reading her accurately. Ask her about Lucias.”
“Meagan, are you in partnership with Lucias Maddox Moore?”
“No. I’ve never met Lucias Moore and I’ve never even seen him except for in that photograph that showed up on my porch yesterday.” She wiped her eyes but then her hand stopped in front of her face.
Quinn noticed the needles arch higher. “What is it?”
“Yesterday, at the cafe...” She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Across the street, a man who looked like the picture was talking on the phone. I noticed because his car looked like Cole’s old car.” She focused on Quinn, her eyes gone wide. “A car just like that was parked next to mine at church before that. Quinn, could he have been that close? He’s been inside my house, on the plane when I fly, he knows my phone number, and now he knows where I park at church?” She held her hand out straight and watched it shake. “Why, Quinn? Why is he doing this? Is he trying to set me up so he can go free?”
The door to Steve’s section opened and an agent Steve knew by sight as Anderson Cray, but had never spoken to in person, entered. “You’re a long way from the Criminal Investigation Division of the building,” Steve commented.
“The DEA got the meth lab,” Anderson said. He joined Steve at the window. “That connection your buddy Jerod led us to gave us names and locations for everyone up the line except the actual lab and the guy who mixes and packages the meth.”
Steve pulled out his earpiece. Meagan had started to cry and would be useless for information for a few minutes. “How did they get the final name and lab location?”
“At two this morning the police pulled over a red Chevy Blazer for speeding. The officer called in the name and plate numbers, and the DEA got out there fast. It was one of the names Jerod’s connection had listed as high on the chain. They found three pounds of meth, five pounds of cocaine, and a thousand ecstasy pills in the guy’s trunk under his spare tire. Between that and the thirteen thousand dollars in his glove compartment, the guy was looking at maximum security for ten to fifteen years unless he gave up the meth lab and the guy who cooks up the drugs. They raided the lab at noon and brought in six more guys, including a scientist and pharmacist.”
“That’s good news. Thanks for letting me know.”
The agent crossed his arms and looked inside the room where Quinn and Meagan seemed to be having a conversation rather than a one-sided interview. “I didn’t come just to let you know about the lab.”
“Oh?” Steve saw the needles on Meagan’s graph skitter wide and fast again. What had Quinn asked her?
“We supplied the DEA with our information on the case. They interrogated the six men from the lab, plus the three they’d already arrested.” He gestured toward the glass. “Not one of them recognized Meagan Winston’s photo or her name. They also didn’t know anything about Claudia Conners.” He stepped closer to the glass and examined the scene. “Whatever Lucias Moore’s connection with both women is, it’s personal. If she is helping him with the drugs, it’s on his own dime.”
The agent left and Steve waited to reposition his earpiece. He sat and checked his watch. Only two and a half hours until five. He only had one idea left. If it worked, it might be enough to get Baine to let him continue the case to the end. If it failed, Baine would take the case, and Steve’s credibility with it.
Quinn looked up in surprise when Steve stepped into the small room. He sat in the only empty chair available and said, “Newly arrested prisoners get a phone call.” He waited until Meagan looked him in the eye. When she did, he said, “I need you to call Lucias Moore.”
47
Monday, January 5
2:00 p.m.
Cole entered the store and approached the brunette behind the cashier counter. “Could you tell Kelsey or Nathan that I’m here?”
Meagan had said her name was Brianna. Cole could see she was nervous. “The newspaper article isn’t true, Brianna,” he said. “I know that a lot of the people you encounter lie well, and use lies to exploit the girls you try to protect, but I’m not one of those people.”
Brianna gave him a tentative smile. “Well, I haven’t actually encountered anybody like that, but I guess I’m kind of always looking out for that first one. I’d rather it not be you.”
He smiled back. “I’m with you on that. Did Meagan ever explain to you that I didn’t really lie about being with the FBI?”
“She said—”
The door to the back room of Rahab’s Rope swung aside and Kelsey came into view. She stopped short. “Cole. I—I didn’t expect to see you.”
“I’m sure it’s not a pleasant surprise.” Cole gestured toward the newspaper lying on the cashier counter. “I don’t have time to explain about that right now, I’m afraid. Meagan got arrested this morning, and—”
“What?” Brianna put a hand to her heart. “She didn’t do anything wrong!”
“I intend to prove that,” Cole said, his jaw set. “But I need your help.” He turned to Kelsey. “Would it be better to talk in the back? I don’t want to cause problems being in your store today.”
Cole’s gaze followed Kelsey’s scan of the room, taking in the glances and whispers customers sent their way. “That might be best.” She waved at a customer she knew and said to Cole between her teeth, “Leave the store through the front door and come around the back. I’ll be there to let you in.”
He dropped a quick nod and took his leave. Outside, military habits took natural place. By the time he reached the back door, he had camouflaged his route and location, checked the area for suspicious vehicles or pedestrians—the grey Oldsmobile was nowhere to be seen—and had three exit possibilities if the need came to retreat.
Kelsey cracked the door. “I’m inclined to trust you, Cole,” she said. “But you shou
ld know I’ve called Nathan and he’s on his way. Our conversation here will include him on speakerphone.”
“That’s wise,” Cole acknowledged. “In your line of work you can’t be too careful.”
“I agree.”
She led the way to a table near a wall lined with iron pegs that held hundreds of necklaces. Cole wasn’t knowledgeable enough about jewelry to know which ones were completed and which were still in process. “Is Nathan on the speakerphone now?”
She pressed a finger to the phone on the table. “Yes.”
“Good. Hi, Nathan.” Cole set the box he’d been carrying on the table. “I’ll try to be as succinct as possible. The FBI arrested Meagan this morning for partnering with a Lucias Moore in the drug trade, and also as a possible accessory to murder.”
The phone remained silent but Kelsey’s cry filled the room. “Why on earth...?”
“As I said, I’ll keep this succinct. Meagan can give the details later.” He opened the box and spread several of the letters across the surface of the table. Kelsey sat and surveyed the letters while Cole continued. “Steve found these letters in Lucias’ home, along with a box of letters from a Claudia Conners, a woman who worked with Lucias until she was murdered three years ago. The law was never able to convict Lucias of the crime, and soon after it, he started the flights with Meagan to India.”
Kelsey held up one of the letters. “But these aren’t Meagan’s handwriting.”
“That’s what I need your help with,” Cole said. “I’ve spent the past few hours reading every letter from both boxes. They’re all from the same hand. Since Claudia couldn’t have written letters after her death, the letters had to have been written by Lucias.”
“This guy is getting scarier by the minute.”
Nathan spoke through the phone. “So he’s writing letters to himself supposedly by the women he’s interested in?”
“And the first woman he was interested in—obsessed with if you ask me,” Cole said, “ended up dead.”
Kelsey shivered noticeably. “That’s terrifying.”