“I’m not one to take chances. You know that.”
“I suppose; I do.”
“Have there been any unusual threats lately?” Alex asked.
“Not that have been brought to my attention,” Candace said. “Which means, if there have been, they were not deemed credible.”
“No letters or anything?”
“There are always letters, Alex. I get thousands of letters,” Candace replied. “It takes time for staff to pour through them.”
“I’d like our team to take a look,” Alex said. “Just to be certain.”
“Out of an abundance of caution?” Candace asked.
“Something like that,” Alex said.
Candace laughed. “We both know this is a courtesy request.”
Alex sighed. It was true. The FBI wouldn’t meet with resistance if they asked to see Candace’s “fan” mail. “It is,” she admitted. “As an FBI agent, I want you to know that coming after you does not fit his profile.”
“And, as a friend?”
“I won’t take any chances.”
“Whatever you need, Alex. I told you that at the beginning.”
“Candace, if you see anyone new around that doesn’t fit, I want you to call me.”
“Alex, there are new faces around me hourly.”
“Everyday contractors, press, new security guards at the Capitol, volunteers at the campaign—those kinds of people.”
“Alex, that’s a daily occurrence.”
“I know. You make a living reading people, just like I do. If someone doesn’t fit, I want to know—me, not Bower, not anyone else—call me.”
Candace closed her eyes and nodded on the other end of the phone.
“Candace?”
“I’ll keep my eyes open.”
Alex debated with herself for less than a second before clarifying her reasons. “I don’t think he’s coming for you. I think he might want us to think that. He’s delighting in the spotlight. Someone close, a campaign or staff member—that might be enough for him. Don’t over think it, just pay attention.”
Candace sighed. “You’ll be the first to know.”
“Good.”
“Do me a favor?” Candace asked.
“Yeah?”
“Catch this son of a bitch?”
“Working on it.”
***
He watched as the garage door rolled up and pulled the van inside. A quick break, a cup of coffee, and then he would need to run some errands. His phone buzzed. “Hello? Sorry I missed you earlier. You know how it is. I go where they tell me they need me. No,” he cut the engine and stepped out of the van, and ran his hand over the car parked beside it. “At least, they put me up,” he told the caller. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. Overtime is good. I promise.” He opened the door and stepped into the small kitchen. “It’s nothing like home,” he said. He smiled as he took in the familiar scenery. “You too.” He savored a deep breath and released it slowly. “No, nothing like home,” he spoke. “This is the house that Jack built.”
***
“Mrs. Leibowitz,” Alex softened her tone.
“I’m sorry,” the woman apologized. “You must think I’m ridiculous. It isn’t as if we didn’t expect this news.”
“No one expects news like this,” Claire interjected.
Not for the first time, Alex found herself impressed with Claire’s compassion. “Agent Brackett is right,” she offered. “I know this is difficult, but we need to ask you a few questions.”
“I’m not sure I can help you,” Beth Leibowitz replied.
“Well, you let us be the judge of that; okay?” Alex said gently. Beth Leibowitz nodded. “I know this will sound like a strange question, but I have a reason for asking. Do you know if Monica had any friends by the name of BJ?”
“BJ?” Beth Leibowitz asked. “I don’t know about friends; my ex-husband’s nephew, Jack—some people called him BJ.”
Alex forced herself to remain stoic. “Why BJ?”
“Well, his name was actually John, but everyone called him Jack growing up. For some reason, he hated it, said he wanted to be called Brandon.”
“Brandon?”
“As I recall he was obsessed with Brandon Lee.”
Alex nodded. “How old was Jack?”
“Oh, he was four years older than Monica. We saw them infrequently when the kids hit their teens. His parents had moved to their summer home in Connecticut full-time by the time Monica was in junior high school.”
Alex looked at Claire.
“What does Jack have to do with Monica?” the woman asked.
“Other than the fact that they knew each other, maybe nothing,” Claire said.
Beth Leibowitz looked at Claire skeptically.
“We’ve been looking for a man who went by the name BJ,” Alex explained. “He happened to work for a company that has come up in our investigation, but no one seems to know his last name.”
“Well, if it’s Jack his last name is Carter,” Beth Leibowitz offered.
“And, his family moved to Connecticut?” Alex sought to clarify.
“Yeah. That had to be sometime around 2003. Monica was in eighth grade. I remember that much.”
Alex nodded at Claire. Claire understood the direction. She reached into her pocket and retrieved a copy of the photo Gordon Daniels’ mother had given her and handed it to Alex.
“Can I ask you,” Alex began. “Would you take a look at this picture and tell me if you see Jack in it?”
Beth Leibowitz nodded. Alex placed the picture in her hands.
“That’s Jack—right there in the back,” Beth Leibowitz pointed to a face in the photo.
“Are you sure?” Alex asked.
“I’m positive. One of the last times we saw Jack, he had that same haircut. Said he was going to open his own landscaping company or something.”
“Landscaping?” Alex questioned.
“Yeah. He’d spent a few years working for his friend, I guess. Even brought him to one of our barbecues.”
“Do you remember the friend’s name?” Claire asked.
“No, I’m sorry; I don’t. He was older than Jack. I do remember that. Jack was about to turn nineteen. I remember that because his birthday is a month after Monica’s. She had just turned fifteen. Do you think he knows something about what happened to her because you found her in Connecticut?”
Alex sighed. “I don’t know for sure,” she replied honestly. “Your ex-husband—is there any chance he might know where Jack is now?”
Beth Leibowitz shook her head. “I doubt it. Aaron has been in London for over three years now. After Monica… Well, it took its toll on both of us. He drifted apart from everyone, not just me,” she explained.
Alex’s chest tightened. Losing a child was an unthinkable pain to endure. She nodded sympathetically. “One last question. Do you have any idea where Jack’s family might be?”
“As far as I know, they settled in Connecticut. After Aaron and I divorced, I never had any interactions with them. I can’t tell you for certain that they are still there.”
“Do you remember where in Connecticut they lived?” Claire inquired.
“Hebron. That much I do recall.”
“Thank you,” Alex squeezed Beth Leibowitz’s hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“I appreciate that. I just hate the thought that she could have suffered.”
“I promise you,” Alex said. “Agent Brackett and I will find the person who took Monica from you.”
“Do you think it’s the same person who killed all those other girls?”
“We don’t know for certain,” Claire said. “Either way, we will find him.”
Beth Leibowitz nodded. “I hope you do,” she said.
Chills went up Alex’s spine at the cold venom in Beth Leibowitz’s voice.
“And, I hope he rots in a tiny little space the rest of his life.”
Alex swallowed the lump in her throat. “If y
ou think of anything at all…”
“If I remember anything else, I’ll call you.”
Alex nodded again. Claire offered the grieving mother a hand. “I’m sorry,” she said. “From everything you told us; Monica sounds like she was a great kid.”
“She was.”
Claire offered the woman a final smile and followed Alex out of the house. She shook her head with disgust.
“Claire?”
“There’s a special place in hell for people who hurt kids,” Claire said.
Alex agreed. “Not even a question,” she said.
***
“Brackett,” Claire answered her phone. “Yeah? What did you get?” Claire listened as the caller answered her question. “You’re positive? Okay. Interesting. No, don’t make any house calls. Let me talk to Toles.” Claire took a deep breath and walked back into the diner that she and Alex had stopped at.
“Everything okay?” Alex asked when Claire slid back into the booth.
“There’s a lot of John Carters in Connecticut.”
Alex sighed. “I figured as much.”
“Corrigan’s team found something in one of the abandoned greenhouses.”
“What?” Alex asked.
“A business card for Crow Electrical Services.”
“I hope there’s more to this.”
“There is. Crow Electrical Services’ address is listed as Dunmore, Pennsylvania.”
Alex’s ears perked.
“They service parts of Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. Ready for this? The company is registered as owned by a Brad Lawson.”
“Our Brad Lawson?”
“What would you say if I told you that of all the John Carters in Connecticut there is only one who is employed as an electrician.”
“Let me guess; he works at Crow.”
Claire nodded. “No, but Brandon J. Carter does.”
“And?”
“Well, the interesting thing is, the address Crow has for Brandon J. Carter is John Carter’s parents’ home in Hebron.”
“So, he’s living at his parents’?”
“No. His parents have been dead for years.”
“For Christ’s sake, Brackett! Just tell me what you found out.”
Claire grinned. “Corrigan took Robbins to the Carters’.”
“Robbins? Are you…”
“Not the hot issue here,” Claire reminded Alex. Alex groaned. “Seems Jack Carter lives in Stratford with his wife and daughter, not in Hebron. No one was home at the parents’ house. Kind of overgrown, but Corrigan says the neighbor down the road told her the son still stops by to mow the lawn.”
Alex was already pushing her plate aside.
Claire snickered. “Not hungry anymore?”
“I’ll pay the bill,” Alex said.
“Get us coffees to go. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
***
“Hi,” he peeked in through the door.
“Welcome,” an attractive blonde woman greeted him.
“I heard you were looking for some help,” he said.
“That, we are,” she ushered him in. “Have you ever worked on a campaign before?”
“No. Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. I used to be a teacher,” she said with a wink.
“You’re the governor’s daughter,” he observed.
“Guilty as charged,” Michelle Fletcher held out her hand. “Shell,” she introduced herself.
“Brad,” he said.
“Nice to meet you, Brad.”
“I hope I can help with something,” he said.
“Well, can you man a phone?”
“Sure.”
“Can you use a computer?” Michelle asked.
“I think so,” he answered lightly.
“You’re hired. Starting wage—unlimited coffee and the pleasure of my company from time to time,” she joked.
“I’ll take it.”
“Let me grab you a cup and a seat.”
***
Alex looked over at Claire. “Ready?”
“Think he’s here?” Claire asked.
“We’re about to find out,” Alex said. She lifted her hand and rapped on the door. A couple of moments passed. Alex rapped again and she heard a woman’s voice muffled in the distance. She was about to knock a third time when the door to the small white, Cape Cod home opened.
“Can I help you?”
Alex smiled at the woman. Over the woman’s shoulder she could see a young girl running in a circle. “Sorry to disturb you,” Alex said. She lifted her FBI badge. “My name is Alex Toles. I’m a special agent with The Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
The woman was puzzled. “The FBI?”
Alex nodded. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Is this the home of Jack Carter?”
The woman nodded hesitantly. “Yes, it is. Jack’s not here right now. He’s working.”
“That’s all right. You must be Mrs. Carter,” Alex surmised. She extended her hand. “Would you mind if my partner and I asked you a couple of questions?”
The woman fumbled slightly. Alex smiled to reassure her. “It’s just part of the routine of an investigation we’re working on.
Jack Carter’s wife stared at Alex for a minute and her jaw fell slack. “You’re that agent from the TV.”
Alex smiled again. Damn press. I hate the press. “Unfortunately, yes, I am.”
“Is Jack okay?”
“I’ve no reason to think otherwise,” Alex told her. “Please? Would you mind if we came in?”
The woman shook her head and opened the door for Alex and Claire to enter. “Can I get you something? Some…”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Alex replied. “We won’t take up too much of your time.” She glanced at the little girl who was now doing some form of somersault and chuckled.
“Oh. That’s my daughter, Janelle. She thinks she’s a monkey most days. I’m sorry, I’m Jenny, Jack’s wife.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Carter. How old is she?” Alex gestured to the little girl. She could tell that their arrival had unsettled the woman. She hoped that finding a little common ground would put Jenny Carter at ease.
“Four,” Jenny Carter smiled. “Going on fourteen some days, still a baby others.”
“Sounds like your house, Toles,” Claire commented.
“You have children?” Jenny asked Alex.
“Four,” Alex said. “Another one on the way.”
Jenny Carter looked at Alex’s midsection.
Claire laughed. “Yeah, right; Alex pregggers? I’d love to see that.”
Alex shot Claire a stern gaze before turning her attention back to Jack Carter’s wife. “Not me,” she said. “My wife is expecting.”
Jenny nodded.
Alex spoke calmly. “I’m sure having the FBI show up is a little unnerving.”
“You could say that,” Jenny agreed.
“We’ve been trying to track down some people who worked for a company called Greenscape Landscaping. Your husband’s name popped up.”
Jenny nodded. “I know that Jack did some yard work and mowed lawns when he was a teenager. He worked with a friend of his.”
“Do you remember his friend’s name?” Alex asked.
“Brad Lawson. I’ve never met him,” Jenny said. “He helped Jack get the job he has now.”
“At Crow Electrical?” Alex asked.
“What?” Jenny’s confusion was evident. “No, Jack’s a security guard. He works second shift for a private company.”
Alex looked at Claire.
“Do you know the name of the company?” Claire asked.
“Dryer Security. They provide guards for all kinds of places. Jack’s been working at Gestalt mostly. He’s been hoping to get on their payroll for years, but nothing there has opened up.”
“Gestalt Security?” Alex asked.
“Yeah.”
Alex processed the information
. While she knew that Gestalt hired outside security for its facilities, getting assigned to Gestalt would be no easy feat. “So, your husband isn’t an electrician?”
Jenny laughed. “God, no! I barely let Jack change a lightbulb.”
Claire paced around the small living room while Alex directed the conversation. She let her eyes explore the various decorations and pictures. Most of the pictures were of the little girl who was now standing at Claire’s feet.
“Hi,” the little girl looked up at Claire.
“Hello.”
“You is tall.”
Claire smiled. “Taller than you.”
“You has wed hair.”
“Huh?” Claire asked.
“She loves red hair,” Jenny Carter explained.
“You’s bwave!” the little girl exclaimed. “Mommy! Mewida! Bwave!”
Alex chuckled at the perplexed expression on Claire’s face. “She thinks you’re the princess from the movie Brave.”
Claire gloated. “A princess, huh?”
Alex rolled her eyes.
“Your husband likes to fish?” Claire asked curiously. She gestured to a picture on a small table.
Jenny smiled. “He does. He doesn’t have much time now for it with work. He still tries to get out when he can. His parents lived out in the country. He likes to go hiking and fishing there. I think it makes him feel closer to them. That’s where that was taken,” she offered. “Not long after we met.”
Alex paid close attention to Jenny Carter’s demeanor. She was open and willing to share. She smiled when she spoke about her husband, but Alex detected an underlying sadness in the woman sitting before her. If Jack Carter was their killer, Alex would not be surprised to learn that he had a temper nor that he often sought distance. She was curious about the contradictions in the information Jenny had shared. Who exactly was BJ? She still was not sure she had a clear picture.
“Well, we won’t take up any more of your time. Do you by any chance know where your husband is right now?”
“He called earlier. He said that he’s working in Albany for a few days. Someone is out, I guess.”
“Albany?” Alex asked.
“Yeah. Gestalt has an office there. When they are short-handed, they usually offer Jack the overtime. They even put him up in a hotel,” Jenny explained.
Untold (Alex and Cassidy Book 5) Page 32