Cutting Edge f-3

by Allison Brennan

  Vigo continued. “The first three letters focus on the individual entity and their so-called crime. For Langlier, it was that they engaged in animal and genetic testing to develop their pharmaceutical products. For Sac State, it was genetic engineering in agriculture. For Nexum, it was using animal by-products for profit. But for Butcher-Payne? That letter mentions in passing the use of animals in genetic research, but the primary focus of the letter is the actions of law enforcement in resolved investigations. None of these listed cases are open.”

  Hooper said, “The earlier cases where Agent English was an informant aren’t cases where there was any doubt. All parties were convicted on solid evidence. I reviewed them thoroughly.”

  “All it tells us is that another person in the group wrote the letter.” Nora put the letter aside, but the way she kept looking at it had Duke concerned. Because Nora was worried, no matter what she said.

  “Yes, you’re right,” Vigo said. “But why?”

  “Maybe there’s a new person in the group,” Nora suggested.

  “Possible,” Vigo responded skeptically.

  Nora said, “Based on past cases, we know that there are usually three or four people involved in these types of groups. Maybe one of them dropped out. Maybe someone else wanted to take a stab at public relations.” She sounded sarcastic, a way to distance herself from the intensity of the situation.

  “Nora, you can’t ignore this,” Duke said.

  “Let’s assume-just for a minute-that the killer fixated on me as the person trying to stop him. He does a little research and-voila! — learns of my high-profile cases and is trying to distract me.”

  “Possible,” Vigo said once again.

  The idea of a killer targeting Nora terrified Duke. He had no problem with Nora being an FBI agent working dangerous cases; he had a huge problem with her being the focus of a psychopath. His specialty was personal security, and he wasn’t letting Nora English out of his sight.

  “This last letter is personal,” said Vigo. “It focuses on the ‘corrupt’ government-a phrase often used by these people when talking about both politicians and federal law enforcement. I went through the files on all those cases, and there are no other common factors except Agent English.”

  “And the types of investigations,” Hooper said, “were all domestic terrorism cases.”

  “I’m hardly the only agent who works domestic terrorism,” Nora said.

  Duke watched her closely. She was thinking about what Vigo and Hooper were saying, but she didn’t want to believe that somehow this case was becoming about her. Nora didn’t want to be the focal point. She didn’t want to think of herself as a victim.

  Hooper said, “I’m having an analyst pull all Nora’s cases and see if anyone she’s arrested is out of prison.”

  “Have them look into relatives of prisoners as well,” said Vigo. “Someone who lives on the West Coast. Originally, I thought the killer was older, but this letter seems to be singsong, taunting-a younger, immature voice. Under thirty, with no college degree, though, who likely spent some time in college and is comfortable around students.”

  “Leif Cole,” Nora mumbled. “He doesn’t seem the type. And he’s older. Also, I don’t think he’s a killer.”

  “He didn’t write this letter,” Vigo agreed, “but he may be familiar with the unique writing style. Remember that it was Ted Kaczynski’s brother who recognized his distinctive phrases in the published manifesto.”

  “Cole hasn’t been willing to help on any level,” Nora said, “and he wouldn’t even look at the other letters, but I’ll try again. Now that the group has escalated to murder, maybe he will help.” She didn’t sound optimistic, but Duke had complete confidence that she would push Cole hard.

  “What’s our next step?” Hooper asked.

  Nora rose from her seat, agitated. “To keep the investigation moving forward,” she said. “I have a great team working on this case, covering all the bases. The answers are out there, and we’ll find them.”

  “Yes,” Vigo agreed, “but I think the fastest way to find the answers is to find out who is so angry with you, Agent English, that they created an elaborate and drawn-out plan to draw you into their game.”

  “Maybe I should put Pete in charge and have Nora take some time off,” Hooper said. “I’ve only been here six weeks, Nora, but I’ve looked at your personnel records and you haven’t taken a vacation in years.”

  “That’s not true,” Nora said, but Duke could see her thinking about it. Of course it was true, he thought. He knew her better than she knew herself. “I’m not giving up this case. Call Nolan, my SSA. Dr. Vigo, find him and he’ll tell you that I am the best suited to getting to the bottom of this. I know these people. I know how they think.”

  “Your safety is more important,” Hooper began, “and there are other trained agents who may work this case without a personal connection.”

  Dr. Vigo said, “I don’t know that pulling Nora is the right thing.”

  “Of course it’s not!” Nora said. “If it was Pete, would you pull him?”

  Duke heard the tremble in Nora’s voice, the fear. Not of the killer, but of losing her identity. She was her job. And Duke wondered if he could ever claim enough of her to where he was as important to her as her work. And was it even fair of him to ask?

  He didn’t care about being fair, not about this.

  “I’ll take responsibility for Agent English’s personal safety,” Duke said.

  She faced him with shock and something like distrust. He didn’t want to read too much into it, she was on an emotional roller coaster, and one he realized she’d never ridden before. But he was irritated that she didn’t try to understand.

  He needed her to trust him. Without trust, there could be no relationship.

  “I can accept that,” Hooper said. “Hans?”

  “Great. We need to go over the cases, and it wouldn’t hurt if you reviewed them as well, Nora, when you have a chance.”

  She quickly calmed herself, and said in a measured tone, “I understand your point, Dr. Vigo, but I can’t imagine anyone who would have a personal vendetta against me, to such an extent that they would kill to … to do what?”

  “Nora, you understand terrorism. I understand psychopaths. This is a case where the two have collided, and I think we have a wholly new, and dangerous, monster on our hands. Be careful.”

  Duke’s phone vibrated and he looked at the message. It was his partner, J. T. Caruso.

  He stared at the message with a heavy heart, but not surprise. Maybe he’d already sensed the truth, because he couldn’t imagine that Russ Larkin had any part in killing Jonah. But it didn’t make the news any easier to swallow.

  He told the three FBI agents, “Russ Larkin’s car was found in Reno. He’s dead.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  By the time Duke and Nora arrived in Reno, nearly two hours later, Russ Larkin’s corpse had been taken to the morgue. Nora contacted the Reno FBI office after Duke had been notified by Reno PD about the latest murder, and Agent Sara Ralston met them at the crime scene: a squalid parking lot behind an abandoned warehouse.

  Duke felt damn guilty that he’d harbored ill thoughts about Russ being a villain in this mess. When both Russ and his computer had gone missing, Duke’s first thought was that he was guilty. Only later did it occur to Duke that Russ might be in trouble.

  “Did you see the victim?” Nora asked Agent Ralston.

  “Just. When I got here, they had already removed him from the vehicle, had him bagged and tagged. The deputy coroner on scene is an acquaintance, gave me the basic. Dead more than twenty-four, how much more he won’t know until the M.E. does his job. Dressed in jeans and T-shirt, sneakers, no visible damage aside from the slit throat. Cut deep, likely from behind.”

  “Passenger seat or driver’s seat?” Duke asked.

  “Driver’s,” she said. “Seat belt still on, and there was a clean strip of shirt where it hit him, so I’d say t
he belt was on when his throat was slit.”

  Why the hell did Russ drive all the way to Reno and park behind an abandoned building? Twenty-four hours would have put him there at two p.m. on Monday, well after the arson fire. “Could he have been dead longer?” Nora asked.

  “Could be, I really don’t know my decomp well. I’m white-collar crimes, but we have a small satellite office here, and my violent-crimes squad is out in the middle of nowhere handling a murder-suicide on federal land. Nasty stuff. Don’t know how you do this every day.”

  “I’m domestic terrorism, not VCMO,” Nora said. “But I get my fair share of the dead.”

  “The M.E. is fairly friendly. We might be able to get an answer before the official report.”

  “I heard there was a note with the body,” Duke said. “Do you have it?”

  “Saw it, don’t have it. Reno PD has it.”

  “We’d like a copy,” Nora said.

  “Go ahead and ask. They’re territorial here.”

  “Whatever it takes,” said Nora. “We need that note-it’ll help with the profile.”

  Duke crossed over to where the CSI team was processing Russ’s car and getting it ready to transport to their garage for further evidence collection. He picked out who was in charge easily enough, and crossed over to the twenty-something kid. They were all young, which surprised him.

  “Duke Rogan, I spoke with Lieutenant Rob Prentiss two hours ago about the victim.”

  “Prentiss? He’s at the station.”

  “He asked me to come because the victim was in my employment and has classified information in his possession.”

  The kid said, “Take it up with Prentiss. This is my crime scene, and you’re in it.”

  Duke pushed. “He said I could get a copy of the note that was attached to the body.”

  “I don’t know anything about that. He didn’t talk to me.”

  “Call him.”

  “I’m busy. You’re not from our jurisdiction, are you?”

  “Sacramento.”

  “Sacramento what? You’re not a cop, so I don’t know what you think you’re going to get from me.”

  Nora was suddenly at Duke’s side, and the kid gave her the once over. “Hello,” he said.

  She said, “Officer Dressler, correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Special Agent Nora English, FBI attachment to the Department of Homeland Security,” she said rapidly. “Mr. Larkin, the victim, works for a contractor of DHS, Rogan-Caruso Protective Services, and in such capacity, has sensitive and classified information pertaining to national security. Mr. Rogan, the principal of the company, is a security-cleared consultant to the JTDP for both DHS and FBI and as such, I’d expect you to give him whatever information he needs to insure that the health and safety of all Americans is not jeopardized, which any delay could risk.”

  Dressler blinked. “What is-”

  Nora glanced at her watch, and said, “We’re on our way to another crime scene, and the killer in question is crossing state lines, which actually puts this case squarely in my jurisdiction. I’ve been told that Reno’s CSI unit is extremely competent. I’d rather not call in my team, but I don’t have time to dick around. Either we get what we need-now-or I’ll secure this scene personally until my ERT arrives.”

  Duke was impressed. He’d never heard anyone bullshit so completely and have it sound so legitimate. He kept the grin off his face, but he wanted to kiss Nora for her quick thinking. He didn’t think she would appreciate it here, especially with her if you defy me I’ll win arrogance.

  Dressler mumbled, “A minute,” and walked away.

  Nora turned to Duke, her lips turning up just a fraction, and she winked.

  “I need Russ’s laptop and flash drive,” Duke said.

  “He’ll give you everything you need. I’ll sign an evidence receipt and give Dressler the car to process, which will make him happy. Ralston told me he’s a stickler for details, which makes him a bastard to deal with in jurisdictional issues, but a godsend in the evidence room.”

  Dressler returned a moment later. “Prentiss said to give you what you need.” He was obviously unhappy with the order.

  Nora softened and gave Dressler the benefit of her smile. “Thank you, Officer Dressler. I appreciate your cooperation. All we need is the letter and any computer equipment in the vehicle, which is the property of Rogan-Caruso. There may be highly classified information and we need to know what the killer may know, in order to protect the well-being of American citizens. However, I would greatly appreciate it if you could process the car and trace evidence from the victim. I’ll trade you information. This is a highly charged case, and I promise your expertise will be much appreciated.”

  He wanted to argue, but didn’t. “I’ll prepare an evidence receipt.”

  “Thank you,” Nora said. “And as soon as you have any information off the vehicle, please contact me directly.” She handed him her card.

  While Dressler went to gather the sealed evidence, Nora asked Duke, “Why would Larkin be out here? Do you have clients here?”

  “Russ didn’t work for me, I hired him for Butcher-Payne. He was employed by Jim and Jonah. I did the background check on him, I don’t know what I missed-”

  “Maybe nothing.”

  “When I get into his laptop, maybe I can figure it out. But this just doesn’t make sense. He drove all the way to Reno … why?”

  “Jonah Payne’s vacation house is only thirty or so miles from here, in Dollar Point. Were Dr. Payne and Larkin friends outside of work?”

  “Not that I know of. Jonah’s weekends away were always private after his wife died. He didn’t date much, if at all. He was all about his work. Russ was young, smart but only about computers. He didn’t care about the science end of Butcher-Payne, only the computer end. I’ve been going over his files, and nothing jumps out at me.”

  “Where did Larkin go to college?”

  “Fresno State. Graduated in 2003, worked for the state for two years, then I hired him for an insurance company we consulted for in 2005. It was in Fresno, and he wanted to move up here, so I was looking for something for him, and Butcher-Payne needed an I.T. guy when they expanded in 2006. He’s been there since.”

  “Why did Larkin want to move to Sacramento?”

  “I don’t know. Probably job opportunity. He was from a small town in the central valley, and Sacramento is a lot more appealing than Fresno.”

  “Could he have been seduced?”

  “Into what-giving away security codes? I don’t think so. He didn’t seem the type to be so naive.”

  “But if he was involved with a woman, maybe she had access and he didn’t know.”

  “Possible, but that doesn’t explain how the killer knew about the test code. When I trained Russ, we did it on-site. There’s nothing written down.”

  “He didn’t write anything down?”

  Duke considered that. It was possible, sure, but after all this time … “I don’t know.”

  Dressler came back with a box. “Sign this.” He used his chin to gesture to the slip of paper on top.

  One (1) HP Laptop Model 8730 recovered from passenger seat, in leather case.

  Two (2) Flash drives, 2 MB. Blue: in center console. Green: in pocket of leather case of laptop.

  One (1) Wallet, black, leather, initials RAL embossed on front. Contents: California Driver’s License D-0009874 Russell Anton Larkin, Roseville. $67 cash. VISA check card from Golden 1 Credit Union. VISA Credit Card from Chase. Shell Gas Card. Three wallet photos. Membership card, fitness center. Starbucks card. Medical card. Electronic security card, unmarked, blue. One blank check number 988 in victim’s name and address. Three receipts: Shell Gas, Roseville CA dated 9/26/09 for 14.5 gallons; Starbucks #NV731 time-stamped 10:05 a.m. 9/27/09 for $9.55; Shell Gas, Reno NV dated 9/27/09 for 7.6 gallons, time-stamped 11:58 a.m.

  One (1) backpack, dark green. Contents: T-shirt, jeans, socks, underwear, toothbrush,
toothpaste, floss, prescription Motrin filled 7/17/09 at Raley’s Pharmacy, Roseville, Dr. Booth; disposable razor.

  One (1) Key ring with five (5) keys. One key for Honda Civic, registered to vic; four keys unknown.

  One (1) day planner, rubber-banded.

  “Thank you for your diligence,” Nora said as she signed the receipt. They each kept a copy.

  Duke barely heard her. He was reading the list carefully and was itching to open the planner, head over to the Starbucks to see if anyone remembered Russ, and crack open his laptop. Something was here, he had to find it.

  “Don’t break the chain of evidence,” Dressler admonished.

  “I’ll be careful,” Nora said, taking the box.

  They walked back to Sara Ralston. Nora said, “Can you ride him and see what you get from the car? Prints, fibers, anything. If you think we need to take anything to Sacramento, let me know and I’ll get my ASAC on it. We have an escalating serial killer on our hands, and time is critical.”

  “I love getting to play the big, bad fed,” Sara said. “And getting out of the damn smoky casinos for the next few days? I owe you one.”

  “You can pay it back now-” Nora opened the box, pulled out the individually bagged receipts. “Where’s this Starbucks and this Shell station?”

  “Easy. The Shell station is five or six blocks down East Forty-third, right at the exit.” She pointed to the intersection. “The Starbucks-that’s the one closest to the state university. Hop on the freeway, head east, take the next exit, and I think this street runs right into the main drag. Before you hit the entrance, it’s a one-way street on your right.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Nora and Duke swung by the gas station first; the owner, likely from India, based on his thick accent and appearance, had been working on Sunday, but either didn’t understand Nora’s questions or didn’t remember the man in the blue Ford Explorer who came in Sunday morning. He did, however, understand her badge. When she pointed to the security cameras, he brought them around to his side of the counter to show them four black-and-white televisions, which showed static angles of the two gas pumps, the bathroom entrance, and a wide shot of the inside of the small convenience store.