by Lisa Harris
“I’m going to see if I can get some answers from the detective,” Jordan said, slipping out of the room.
Garrett nodded, then turned back to Mr. Kerrigan. “Tell me exactly who Mr. Quinn is, and why you think he would have wanted to harm your daughter?”
“Quinn and I met in college and have been friends for years. Five years ago, we worked together on the ground level of a biotech startup called Ferber Corporation.”
“What exactly does Ferber do?”
“We produce medical supplies that treat kidney disease and immune disorders, and provide intravenous therapy. But it’s been a tough couple of years. We never quite recovered from falling stock prices and ended up filing for bankruptcy protection. We were forced to downsize last year and had to close one of our factories. Martin had sunk everything he had into the company. With the soft economy and the downturn in stock, he pretty much lost everything, including his retirement. He started drinking heavily, and his wife left him. There was a custody battle, and he lost custody of his daughter because of it. He blames me.”
“And you believe, because of the threats he sent you, that he’s behind the murder of your daughter.”
“He wants me to suffer the way he did. What better way than to force me to lose my daughter like he lost his?”
Jordan stepped back into the room and shoved her phone into her back pocket.
“What did you find out?” Garrett asked.
“I spoke to Detective Everston, and you were right about Quinn. They brought him in twenty-four hours ago as a person of interest, but they weren’t able to tie him to Julia’s disappearance.”
“That’s not possible,” Kerrigan countered.
“He had an alibi for the afternoon she was abducted.”
Mr. Kerrigan’s voice rose. “Then you’d better dig deeper, because he was lying to you.”
“I’ve asked that they bring Mr. Quinn in for further questioning,” Jordan said.
“Don’t you think it’s a little too late?” Kerrigan was shouting now, and it was obvious to Garrett that the man was barely holding it together. “You should have been here days ago, putting an end to this before there was a body to be found, but now my daughter’s dead. And here’s another question. Why is the FBI suddenly involved? You don’t normally show up to deal with a homicide, do you?”
Garrett debated how to answer. If it was going to be on the evening news, they didn’t deserve to be blindsided.
“While we will dig into the evidence you gave us on Mr. Quinn, we do have another suspect,” Jordan said.
“Who?”
“Please understand that it’s still too early to know for sure, but I’m here because there is a possibility that your daughter died at the hands of a serial killer.”
Mrs. Kerrigan let out a soft shriek, then began sobbing again.
Her husband sat down next to her and pulled her against him, but he clearly wasn’t done probing for answers.
“You’re telling me that not only is my daughter dead, but she was killed by a serial killer? How many girls are dead? Two, three . . . four? More than that? Do you even know? And how many more are going to die because you haven’t been able to find who’s doing this?”
“Mr. Kerrigan—” Garrett began.
“Please don’t try to give me assurances that you’re going to find her killer, because it’s too late for that. Whether it’s Quinn or some serial killer, Julia’s gone.”
“We know this is an extremely difficult time for your family, but—”
“Difficult? Are you kidding me? My daughter’s dead because of you.”
“Clark, stop. I want to see her,” Mrs. Kerrigan said.
“We can arrange that for you,” Jordan said.
“No.” Mr. Kerrigan shook his head. “That will only make things worse. It will be better for you to remember her the way she was.”
“Clark—”
“What?”
“This isn’t their fault—”
“Then whose fault is it? Because last I looked it was the job of the police to stop things like this from happening. They don’t even know who killed our daughter.”
“Clark . . . Dana . . .” Julia’s grandmother rushed into the room. “What’s going on? The local news is speculating about a serial killer on the loose and now the FBI shows up at our doorstep. Please don’t tell me this is tied to Julia’s disappearance.”
Mr. Kerrigan rushed out of the room past his mother. Garrett hurried after him. The firestorm had begun.
Detective Kenneth Everston was waiting for them when Garrett and Jordan walked into the TBI headquarters just past eight thirty. The room smelled like pizza, reminding Garrett that they’d yet to eat dinner. Not that it mattered. He didn’t have much of an appetite.
“Thanks for coming by at such a late hour,” Garrett said, shaking the detective’s hand, then introducing him to Jordan.
“I’m happy to help, though I’m not happy about the circumstances. I was counting on bringing this girl home.”
“I know,” Jordan said. “I can’t stop thinking about Julia’s mother. They’re going to have a dozen reporters on their doorstep before they even have a chance to plan the funeral.”
Garrett motioned them to chairs in front of his desk. “I understand that Martin Quinn was just brought in a few minutes ago.”
“Yes.” Everston sat down next to Jordan. “But I’m not sure you’re going to get anything more out of him, and as far as we can tell, his alibi is solid.”
“We’ve only had time to briefly read through the transcript of your interview with him,” Jordan said. “What’s your gut feeling? Do you think Quinn fits into this scenario?”
Detective Everston leaned forward. “The only thing he’s admitted to is being angry at Kerrigan. He says he doesn’t know anything about the slashed tires or the threats, and to be honest, we can’t tie him to any of it, let alone Julia’s abduction.”
“He has reason to be angry, according to Clark Kerrigan,” Garrett said. “He lost everything, including his wife and daughter.”
“Maybe, but turning around and murdering his friend’s daughter?” Everston shook his head. “Seems like pretty extreme payback to me.”
“What about his alibi?” Garrett asked. “You said it was solid.”
“He was working on a project for a new startup company with a friend.” Everston pulled a small notebook from his shirt pocket. “Simon Tate. He was able to confirm they were together from just after lunch until about eight thirty Friday night in a string of meetings with investors.”
Garrett turned to Jordan. “If that’s true, he couldn’t have abducted her.”
“Double-check his alibi,” Jordan said. “We also need to find out where he was when the other two girls disappeared.”
“Agreed,” Garrett said. “Unless Julia’s murder is the work of a copycat—and I don’t think it is—this goes much deeper than the collapse of Martin Quinn’s life.”
Five minutes later, Garrett let Jordan step into the interview room ahead of him, choosing to stand while she took a seat across from Quinn. Their suspect looked to be about fifty, maybe fifty-five, with reddish hair, sallow skin, and bloodshot eyes. Garrett took in his features in one pass. He didn’t have to take a second look to know that the man was more than likely an alcoholic, like his own father.
Sweat glistened on Quinn’s forehead. “I’ve been through this already. I answered all the questions they asked me, and nothing’s changed.”
“We understand that, but the FBI’s involved now, Mr. Quinn,” Jordan said. “I have a few follow-up questions I need to ask you.”
“I won’t say anything different. I told them that I was mad, but I didn’t do anything to their daughter.”
“So you’re still insisting that you had nothing to do with the threats against her family?” Garrett asked.
“Yes.”
“What about her murder?”
Quinn’s face paled. “Her murder? Wait a mi
nute . . . Julia’s dead?”
“Her body was found this morning about ninety miles from here, which means we’re not just talking about threats and vandalism. We’re talking about the death penalty.”
“I swear I didn’t have anything to do with her disappearance, and I certainly don’t have anything to do with her murder. You checked out my alibi. There’s no way I could have taken her.”
“You threatened Mr. Kerrigan in front of a room full of people,” Jordan said. “After that he began receiving threats via texts. That’s rather convenient timing, don’t you think?”
“I said some things I didn’t mean. I was angry, I’ll admit that. I lost everything because of him, and he didn’t care. But just because I was angry doesn’t mean I murdered his daughter.”
“You lost your wife and daughter. You wanted him to feel the same way you did. You believed he deserved to lose everything as well.”
“They were just threats. I never acted on them.”
Garrett pushed a photo of Julia from the crime scene across the table. “So you didn’t do this?”
Quinn turned away from the photo.
“Look again, Mr. Quinn,” Jordan said. “Because that’s not all.”
“What do you mean?” The man’s chest heaved.
Garrett pushed the photos of the two other girls connected to the case in front of him. “Jessica Wright, abducted and found murdered in June 2002. Becky Collier, abducted April 2003. Her body was never found, but we have evidence that all three abductions are connected.”
“Wait a minute.” Quinn wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand. “You think I’m somehow connected to their murders? I’ve never seen these girls before, and I certainly had nothing to do with their deaths.”
“Then tell us the truth. Did you send the threatening texts to Kerrigan?” Garrett asked.
“No.”
Jordan leaned forward and caught Quinn’s gaze. “I believe you’re lying to us. And the more you lie, the harder this is going to be on you. This is Mr. Kerrigan’s car, three days after you made the threats. We found fingerprints on the tire wall.”
Quinn was starting to panic. Garrett could see it in his eyes. “Tell us what happened,” he said. “Everything.”
“Okay, I threatened Clark, and not just in the office that one day.” Quinn wiped his lip again. “I . . . I just wanted to scare him.”
“So you did lie,” Jordan said. “Which makes it easier to believe that you made good on your threats.”
“No. That’s all I did. I swear. I slashed a couple tires. Sent a few text messages. But I never hurt anyone. I was mad. That’s it.”
“Mad enough to kidnap his daughter?” Garrett asked. “Mad enough to kill her?”
“No.”
Garrett took the empty chair next to Jordan and leaned forward. “I’ve read through the texts you sent him. You said you wanted him to suffer like you did.”
“I meant financially. I never touched his family.”
“Why not? You lost your wife and daughter, something you blame him for. Isn’t that true?”
“Yes . . . no.” Quinn shook his head. “Kerrigan walked away from the company with money in his pocket. I walked away with nothing. I was angry.”
There was a knock on the door. Everston opened the door, then signaled them to step out into the hallway with him.
“We took a deeper look at the alibi Quinn gave us. Simon Tate just confessed that Quinn paid him to lie.”
“So they weren’t together that day?”
Everston shook his head. “They met in the morning, but not in the afternoon.”
“Do you know where he was?”
“No. We only know that he lied.”
“He’s definitely hiding something,” Jordan said, “but I don’t think he murdered those girls.”
“He just confessed to sending the threatening text messages,” Garrett said. “Of slashing Clark Kerrigan’s tires, and now we know his alibi is fake—”
“I still don’t think it’s him.”
Garrett let out a huff of air. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“I spend all day, every day, analyzing people like him. He’s not our serial killer. His shirt was wrinkled, and there was a stain on his sleeve.”
“So the man’s not a neat freak,” Garrett said.
“Our killer is. Everything he does is precise and thought out. From the lack of evidence at the crime scene, to his attention to details like the way the bodies are posed, to the addition of the Polaroid photo.” Jordan pressed her lips together. “Give me another five minutes with the man.”
“Jordan . . .”
He watched as she stepped back into the room, shutting the door behind her.
“Is she always this tenacious?”
Garrett chuckled. “You don’t know the half of it.”
Everston flipped on a switch so they could listen to the conversation.
“Your friend, Simon Tate,” Jordan began, “just ratted you out, and blew a hole in your alibi. How much did you pay him to lie for you?”
Sweat beaded across Quinn’s lip, but he didn’t move. “You’re lying. Trying to trick me into confessing. I didn’t kill those girls.”
Jordan laid the photos of the three girls onto the table, without saying a word.
“Fine. I paid him.”
“To cover up a murder.”
“No. I didn’t murder her. I didn’t murder any of those girls.”
“Then why the false alibi?”
Quinn folded his arms across his chest.
“I’ll ask you one more time,” Jordan said. “Or I can simply go to the DA and ask to move forward with charges for the murder of Julia Kerrigan, Jessica Wright—”
“Stop. I was in a bar.”
“Can you prove it?”
“The waitress there would remember me. I was drinking alone. I arrived around two and didn’t leave until five something. I wasn’t anywhere near Julia Kerrigan.”
“We’ll check it out, but again, why the fake alibi? Why didn’t you just tell us this in the first place?”
Quinn wiped off the perspiration that had spread to his brow. “My ex-wife will use anything and everything to make sure I lose visitation rights of my daughter. If she finds out I spent the afternoon drinking . . .”
“A judge could have allegations of substance abuse investigated,” Jordan said.
“And I might never be able to see Rachel again.”
Jordan pushed back her chair, then stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
“Looks like you were right, and it wasn’t him,” Garrett said. “But you don’t look happy.”
“Because if Quinn’s innocent, it means we’re no closer to finding out who killed Julia Kerrigan. And more girls are going to die if we don’t find out who’s behind this.”
6
January 24, 2004
12:17 a.m.
TBI Headquarters
Garrett walked out of the glass-encased entrance of the bureau, trying to shake off the heavy wave of fatigue that had settled over him. The day had worn him out both physically and emotionally. And as if dealing with a serial killer wasn’t enough, Jordan’s appearance back in his life had managed to leave him unsettled and questioning every decision he’d made over the past few years.
The truth was that she wasn’t a part of his life. Not anymore. And no lingering feeling he still held was going to change that.
The rain had started again. He popped open his umbrella, then hurried toward his car, avoiding the puddles that had settled into the crevices of the parking lot.
One of the overhead parking lot lights flickered. He looked back at the looming building, then stopped. She was standing just outside the entrance with no umbrella, as if she was trying to decide what to do. He hesitated, then headed back across the lot.
“Jordan . . .”
He took a few seconds to take in her familiar features. Her dark hair was pulled back neatly, but she
hadn’t been able to quite contain the curls, because of the humidity. Skin the color of caramel, dark-brown eyes, and that smile that had captured him from the first day he’d met her back at the academy. She still looked just as beautiful as she had then.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I just forgot my umbrella. I was trying to decide if I should make a run for it, but I really don’t want to get soaked.”
“I’ve got mine,” he said.
He stepped up next to her, close enough that his umbrella was covering both of them.
“I thought you’d already left,” she said as they headed to her rental car.
He tried to ignore the fact that her hair smelled like flowers and still made his head spin. How did she do that? “What about you? Are you headed to your parents’ house?”
“Yeah. Though I’m sure they’re already asleep. They have to get up pretty early.”
Halfway across the lot, the heavens opened. He slipped his arm around her waist in an attempt to keep her under the umbrella’s protection as they picked up their pace toward her car.
“This is it.” She shivered and pushed back one of the stubborn curls that refused to stay confined.
He’d always loved her hair despite her protests of how challenging it was to manage. And just like when they were dating, he fought the urge to pull all the curls out of their confinement and let them go free.
“You’re shaking.” Garrett looked down at his keys. “Listen. There’s a restaurant down the street that stays open all night. Why don’t you let me buy you something to eat? I don’t know about you, but even though I’m tired, I’m not sure I can sleep yet. We can warm up, and it would be nice to talk about something other than work for a little while.”
He made the suggestion before taking the time to think about the offer. But the truth was, he’d like to catch up with her away from the shadow of the case. It would be nothing more than two colleagues getting together over something to eat. Although the chance to get reacquainted with the FBI agent wasn’t such a bad thing either.