by Lisa Harris
Tennessee Bureau of Investigation
Jordan stood outside the small interview room where Jason Fisher sat waiting for them. She took a sip of her coffee, surprised the man had agreed to come in without demanding to see a lawyer. He’d seemed perfectly willing to speak with them, even though their reason to bring him in was flimsy at best.
She studied his face while she waited for Garrett to show up. The man’s features matched those in the sketch they had of the abductor, but so did hundreds of other people in the city. There was simply no way they were ever going to make a positive ID based on that sketch. But what else did they have?
Garrett hurried down the hall, right at four thirty. “Sorry. Last-minute phone call.”
“You’re fine. I just got here and so did Fisher.”
He stopped in front of her. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“My rental car’s window isn’t, but I am.” She brushed off his concern. “I just read the background check you had run on Fisher.”
“And?”
“There isn’t much, as I’m sure you saw. Two speeding tickets over the last decade. Nothing that pointed to him being a serial killer.”
“I didn’t think there would be,” Garrett said. “What about the connection between Raynott International Group and our victims’ families? Have they found anything there yet?”
“They’re still tracking that information down.” Jordan hesitated, taking the last sip of her coffee, then dumping the empty cup into a nearby trash can. “I just spoke with Sam. Not that you don’t already know this, but he reminded me that we need to be careful. We don’t have any solid evidence that this man is involved. And just because he showed up at a couple vigils for missing girls doesn’t exactly make him guilty.”
“I know that. That’s why he’s simply a person of interest. All I want to do is talk to him about what he might know.”
“The problem is that the only thing we do know about this guy is that he was at the house of two of the victims, but that isn’t exactly a crime. And the fact that he agreed to come in freely makes me tend to believe he’s not involved.”
“We don’t know that. Not yet.”
Jordan frowned. She understood the reasoning behind Garrett wanting to bring this man in, but she also wanted to make sure that they weren’t on another wild-goose chase. Marissa had already been missing twenty hours. If they focused on the wrong man, it could very well cost her her life.
She swallowed her frustration. She knew that Garrett had been agonizing over their powerlessness in this case ever since his first week on the job with TBI when they’d found the body of Jessica Wright. It was understandable that he was dogged about pursuing every possible lead, no matter how tenuous.
Garrett caught her gaze. “I just need you to trust me.”
“You know I trust you completely, but that really isn’t the issue here. I’m worried we’re not focusing on the right lead.”
“I’m not dismissing Gloria Mather’s statement. That’s why we’ve got the entire state looking for a gold Honda Accord. Agents are scouring camera footage of the area. We’ve even solicited help from the public. But I can’t just dismiss this as a coincidence.”
She held his gaze. Her job was to highlight pertinent facts and put them into a logical order to help him and his team solve the case. It wasn’t to make judgment calls.
“Okay,” she said. “So, do you have a plan?”
“Yes.”
Jordan frowned. “And do you plan on telling me what that plan is?”
“Just play along.”
“Garrett . . .”
Garrett turned and walked into the room. “Mr. Fisher. We appreciate your taking the time to come and speak with us. I promise this won’t take long.”
They quickly introduced themselves, then sat down across the table from the man.
“I don’t mind coming down,” Fisher said. “Especially with a girl’s life on the line, though I’m not sure how I can help.”
Jordan sat down next to Garrett across from Fisher, determined to let Garrett take the lead on the interview.
“On the phone you said you were aware of the recent disappearance of Marissa Dillinger?”
“Of course. I think everyone in the city’s aware of what’s going on. It’s horrible.” He looked from Garrett to Jordan, then back to Garrett again. “I just realized why you both look familiar. You were there earlier today. At the Dillinger home.”
Jordan glanced at Garrett. She was surprised at the man’s answer, though it wasn’t as if he could deny being there.
“How well to you know the Dillinger family?” Garrett asked.
“Not extremely well. At least not on a personal level. I work for a financial service company, and I’ve had some interaction with Nathaniel Dillinger. He’s one of our clients. And when I heard about what had happened . . . I don’t know . . . I don’t have children, but I just wanted to drop by and show my support. So I did.”
“I’m sure they appreciate that. We noticed the family has an incredible support network.”
“I wish I could volunteer in some way, but my workload is pretty heavy right now, and I simply can’t commit to the time. Stopping by seemed to be the least I could do.”
“And we don’t want to take too much of your time,” Garrett said, “but we’re currently interviewing those who knew the Dillinger family and could tell us what Marissa’s relationship with her parents was like.”
Jordan watched Garrett pause, as if waiting for the implications of what he was saying to sink in.
“Wait a minute.” Fisher leaned forward. “You think they’re somehow involved in their daughter’s disappearance?”
“I’m not implying that. All I can say is that there has been some new evidence that has come to light, and we’re simply trying to follow up on all leads. Often people have information without even knowing it.”
Jordan sat back in her chair, wondering if she should pull Garrett out of the room or simply go along with his plan. She wasn’t sure how his line of questioning was going to get them anywhere. They were already on thin ice just having him come in for questioning.
“From your interactions with him, what can you tell me about Nathaniel Dillinger?” Garrett asked.
“Like I said, I didn’t know them well, but I always had the impression that they were a solid family. He was active in choosing his investments and did well.”
“Did he ever speak of his daughter?”
“I think I saw a picture of her in his office. And he might have mentioned her once or twice, but when we met, it was to go over his financials. It was never a social call.”
“I understand. We just have to ensure we’re not missing anything. You probably know how teens can be,” Garrett said. “And unfortunately, accidents happen. There are things people have to cover up. Secrets to hide.”
“I guess I’m just surprised at the angle of the investigation, but even if there was something going on, I wouldn’t know. I thought the case was somehow supposed to be connected to the Angel Abductor.”
“The media has picked up on that, but at the present we aren’t eliminating any suspects. Did you know any of the other victims allegedly taken by the Angel Abductor?”
Fisher paused a few seconds before answering. “I know the Boyd family, actually, though again, not well. Rob Boyd has done some investments with our company. And like with the Dillinger family, I thought it was appropriate to stop by and express my condolences. Again, such a tragedy.”
“What about any of the other Angel Abductor victims?” Garrett asked.
“No . . . I’m sorry. I’ve heard the news reports over the past couple of years but don’t remember recognizing any of the other girls.”
“Last question. Can you tell me where you were yesterday evening between seven and nine?”
Fisher sat back in his chair, clearly not happy with the sudden shift in the conversation. “I’m not sure why you’re asking me that question.”
Garrett shook his head as if to wave off the importance. “It’s nothing more than a routine question. We’re asking everyone who comes in here.”
“I don’t know . . . the past couple days have been pretty hectic. I was in and out of meetings most of the day, including a dinner meeting. I didn’t get home until after eleven. My secretary can give you the details if you’d like.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” Jordan stood up. “We appreciate your taking the time, Mr. Fisher.”
“Jordan—”
But she was already walking toward the door. “An officer will be here in just a minute to escort you out.”
“Thank you.”
Jordan waited until Fisher had left before she spoke to Garrett. “He was supposed to be a person of interest. Not a suspect.”
“I wanted to see his reaction, but we have his alibi. We can check it out and—”
“We have nothing, Garrett.”
“He lied. He was at the Kerrigan house. I saw him.”
“You think you saw him. That was two years ago.” Jordan clenched her hands, then slowly released them. “Listen. We’ll check out his alibi, but we need to move on. Every moment counts—”
“You think I don’t know that?” His voice rose. “You might be the behavioral expert, but he’s playing us, Jordan. He walked in here knowing the answers. It was all too smooth. Too rehearsed.”
“Not everybody reacts the same way when they’re interrogated.”
“He never flinched. Never asked to see a lawyer—”
“So because he wasn’t anxious, he was lying?”
Garrett rubbed the back of his neck. “If he’s the Angel Abductor, he’s getting away with murder. Again.”
“He just gave you an alibi, he answered all of your questions. He doesn’t exactly act like a man who’s guilty of murder.”
“That’s what he wants. He’s playing us. This is a game. Why else would he show up at three different vigils?”
“You’re pulling at straws, Garrett.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. We should check out his alibi.”
“We shouldn’t waste time chasing an unsure lead when we have a solid one.”
Garrett pulled his phone out of his pocket and studied the screen. “I missed a call from Sam,” he said.
Jordan watched his expression as he talked to Sam and felt her stomach clench. Something was wrong.
“What is it?”
Garrett wouldn’t meet her eyes. “They just found Marissa Dillinger’s body.”
21
5:24 p.m.
Highway east of Nashville
Garrett pressed on the accelerator as he maneuvered his way through traffic toward the forested trail just outside the city where Marissa’s body had been found. The thirty-minute ride had been completely silent so far, with neither he nor Jordan in the mood to talk.
“The note said I wouldn’t find her alive.” Jordan’s sudden statement broke into his thoughts.
He glanced at her. “Because he knew she was already dead.”
He’d run through the timeline over and over since leaving the bureau. Fisher, or whoever was behind this, could have brought her out here and killed her at any time over the past twenty-four hours. He would then have had plenty of time to leave Jordan the chilling message, before disappearing again. But why the games? Why the note?
“Have you ever had to deal with a case that keeps you up at night and haunts your dreams?” he asked, thankful the traffic had finally lightened up.
Jordan nodded. “Four years ago, the FBI was hunting for a man who killed his three stepchildren. I still can’t shake the images of the crime scene. Or forget their mother’s pleas to find him as she spoke to the press.”
The Angel Abductor case was the one that kept him up at night. The one that motivated him to study case files and scrutinize details as he searched for answers. Applying logic didn’t help, because there was nothing rational about their abductor’s motives. Only a vague pattern that moved from girl to girl, leaving in its wake a trail of destruction.
Jordan glanced at the GPS and motioned for him to take the next left off the road into a paved lot that led to a popular hiking trail. He pulled into a parking spot and turned off the engine.
The parking lot was a flurry of activity. The ME’s van was already in there, along with half a dozen other vehicles.
Jordan opened her door, pausing when he didn’t move. “Garrett?”
He sighed. “Let’s go.”
They made their way up the winding trail that had been blocked off to hikers, and approached the cordoned-off crime scene. The medical examiner and his technician were conducting the external examination of the body. A dagger of anger pierced through Garrett as he slipped under the yellow tape flapping in the wind.
He’d been here before. Another crime scene. Another girl. But the results were the same. He moved a few steps closer, to where Marissa’s lifeless eyes stared up at him. He recognized her from the photographs he’d seen at her house, and the photos the family had given them that were supposed to have been used to help find her. He took all of it in. The mole on her chin, the birthmark above her left eyebrow, and the lifeless expression on her face. Except for the bullet hole in the center of her forehead, like the other girls he could almost imagine she was simply sleeping.
“Can you tell me how long she’s been dead?” he asked Philips.
“You can talk to the officer that took their statement, but according to the witnesses who found her body, they heard a gunshot about four twenty-five.”
Garrett looked at Jordan. “Wait a minute. Are you sure?”
Philips stood up and nodded. “That timeline matches my findings. Her complexion is extremely pale from the lack of blood flow, something that becomes apparent pretty immediately after death, plus rigor hasn’t set in, and there isn’t any discoloration from settling blood.”
Garrett stepped back from the body. Someone was bagging a Polaroid photo of Marissa, taking away with it any doubts as to who the killer had been. And who it hadn’t been. Fisher had been with them at the police station from four thirty to five o’clock. Which meant if Philips was right, and Marissa was killed at four fifteen, there was no way Fisher could have killed Marissa. He had the most airtight alibi possible.
Garrett turned back to the ME. “And they’re sure about the time?”
“Like I said, check with the officer that interviewed them, but that’s the information I was given.”
Jordan grabbed his arm and pulled him back a few steps. “Garrett, give it up. Fisher didn’t do this. He’s not our man.”
“He could have had an accomplice.”
“We’ll check out his alibis, but it’s not him, Garrett.”
The truth began to settle over him, followed by an even more disturbing realization. This was his fault. Marissa shouldn’t be dead. If he hadn’t used up precious resources and time running down false clues, she might still be alive. The personnel he’d had investigating Fisher could have been looking for a gold Honda Accord. But instead his bad judgment had led to another girl’s death.
“What else do we know from the witnesses?” Garrett asked, as Sam walked up to them.
“They’re pretty shaken up,” Sam said. “They were out walking their dogs when they heard a gunshot. A few minutes later, they found the body.”
“And they didn’t see anyone in the area?”
“Unfortunately, no. But they did see a gold-colored Honda Accord in the parking lot when they arrived.”
Gloria Mathers had been right. The gold Honda. He’d followed the wrong lead.
“What do we do next?” he asked, turning to Jordan. “You know we’re not going to find anything here that tells us who he is. We never do. Instead it’s this game he keeps playing, and every time we lose, someone dies. He’s probably out there laughing right now because I chased after the wrong clues.”
“Honestly, the only thing I know to do
is dig deeper until we can find a way to stop him,” Jordan said.
“But how?” Garrett asked. “When Julia went missing, you told us that he wanted us to find her, because this is all nothing more than a game to him. But he’s getting more and more daring. This time we have witnesses who heard him shoot her. We didn’t even have to search for her body.”
Garrett started back toward the car. He was done with all of this. Done with the games and the wild-goose chase whoever was behind this kept sending them on. Gravel crunched under his feet as he walked. The temperature had continued to drop, but he barely felt the cold. He was already numb. What was he supposed to tell Marissa’s parents? That he made the wrong decision and because of that their daughter wasn’t coming home? He should have been searching for that car. Following up the legitimate leads they had. They were supposed to stop the bad guys. That was his job. And he’d failed.
“Garrett?”
He kept walking. He didn’t want to talk to Jordan. Didn’t want to talk to anyone.
“Garrett, listen to me. You’ve got to shake this off.”
“You know what this means?” He turned around to face her. “It means Fisher’s innocent. It means I made the wrong call and wasted hours working on a false lead.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I pulled agents away from the one viable tip we had, and had them chasing ghosts instead of doing something that might have saved her. He won again, Jordan. Just like he always does. Every. Single. Time.”
“There was nothing wrong with your lead.” She reached out to touch him, then pulled her arm back. “We don’t know that doing things any different would have made a difference. Garrett, we had the entire state looking for her. The photos on the news, the picture of her in her red sweater, the lead about the car . . . None of those were enough, because we didn’t have enough information to find her.”
“I’m sorry, Jordan.” He turned back around and started for his car again.
“Where are you going?” she asked, following after him.
“Walking away from this.” He waved his hands in the air. “I can’t do this anymore.”
He’d seen the same anger he felt right now in his father’s eyes growing up. An anger that had blinded him to everything around him. He’d always promised himself he’d never be like his dad. Never lose his temper. Never let circumstances push him in a direction he didn’t want to go. But he was being sucked into that place.