Law of Five

by Robin Mahle

  Katie knew she was in over her head when it came to FBI acronyms, but she was starting to get the gist.

  “NGI is an identification program using advanced biometric identifiers. Whereas we used to rely mainly on fingerprints, photos, identifying marks, this system goes a step further. A lot further, actually. Facial recognition, iris data, even palm prints.” Myers couldn’t help but smile. “This is definitely next generation stuff, right here.”

  Katie liked Agent Myers. Admired her, even. “So, Agent Jameson inputs the names into the system, searches for any records, arrests, prints. That sort of thing?”

  “Exactly.”

  “We got a hit!” Jameson turned the screen towards Agent Myers. “Hayden Jennings, twenty-four, currently lives in Roanoke.” He looked up at Myers. “Not far from our first victim.”

  “The guy’s got quite a record. Assault, sexual assault, larceny. What else do we know about him?” she asked Jameson.

  “I’ll pinpoint an address so we can call out the local authorities and get him into custody. I’m still working on the others. No hits yet, but it can take a while to search.”

  Agent Myers stepped back a few feet and Katie followed. “So, I hear you been through a pretty rough ordeal.” Myers said.

  Katie raised the corners of her mouth just slightly, hesitant at Myers’ question.

  “I’m sorry,” Myers began. “Not my business. It’s just that Agent Scarborough thinks very highly of you. He said you held your own when the shit hit the fan, so to speak.”

  “Agent Scarborough was there when I needed him. Stood by me every step of the way, without making me feel like a victim. He’s a good man. Tough, but good.”

  “He is.” Myers grinned.

  Katie picked up on her tenor. It was one of admiration, certainly, but also one of a woman who seemed to be in love with the person of whom she was speaking. “Are you married, Agent Myers? Got any kids?”

  “No husband, no kids. Guess you could say I’m married to the job. You know, that old cliché?”

  “Sounds like you might have quite a bit in common with Agent Scarborough.”

  Jameson raised a hand. “Got it. I got the address of Hayden Jennings.”

  “Let Scarborough know now. I’ll put out an ATL.” Myers rushed to her seat and opened her laptop.

  That was a term with which Katie was familiar. Most people called it an APB, or All-Points Bulletin. But in the recent past, she’d heard it called ATL or Attempt to Locate. It would take years to learn and understand the vernacular her own agency used, let alone that of the FBI.

  Katie left the conference room in search of Marshall. She wanted to tell him what they had found. But when she arrived at his office, it was empty.

  A uniformed officer walked past her.

  “Hey, have you seen Detective Avery around?”

  “I think he left with Detective Gibbons a few minutes ago. They were in Captain Hearn’s office earlier. I heard them talking, but I think they left after that.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Katie headed back to the conference room where Agent Scarborough returned and was now in a huddle with Jameson and Myers. Suddenly, she felt even more out of place than before.

  “Katie.” Scarborough caught sight of her and waved her over. “I know Avery and Gibbons are tracking down Laura Kempt. I’d like you to come with me to talk to Shalot again.” Nick turned to Myers for confirmation, then began. “We just got word that a woman has gone missing in Sparks, Nevada. It seems Branson is looking for a way out of this jam and let us in on the details. One of Shalot’s followers is responsible, but he insists he doesn’t know who or where, only heard that it was going down. Shalot must know something as to the woman’s location and we need him to talk before we lose someone else.” He paused for a moment. “This won’t be easy, but Shalot will be a hell of a lot more talkative if you’re there. He wants to win you over, impress you.”

  Katie squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to believe that someone would kill to impress her.

  “I know,” Nick continued. “It’s pretty screwed up, but I think he’ll want to prove to you that he’s the savior of this next victim. That her fate rests in his hands; a God complex. Will you come?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. I’ve been in contact with the sheriff in Sparks to let them know what they’re dealing with. They’re doing everything they can on their end. The rest is up to us.” Nick stepped out of the huddle. “Jameson, follow up with Roanoke on that address. Call the field office, let them know too.” He led Katie to the door. “Myers, continue to coordinate with the local authorities where our victims were found. Make sure they’ve entered everything they’ve got into the database. We’re going to need all the help we can get to identify the suspects unless we can get to Shalot fast.”

  ***

  Katie felt a sense of déjà vu on the ride with Agent Scarborough. It seemed impossible to consider that she was in this situation, although it was nothing like before, when Hendrickson was after her. This time, she’d have to play up to the man who was obsessed with her. She would be in the position of power, not tied up to some chair, waiting to get the crap beat out of her, or worse. Unfortunately, that fate was placed upon another innocent victim. She would have to get Shalot to talk if they stood a chance at all of saving this woman.

  “Hudson knew the names of Shalot’s followers, but nothing more. I thought maybe Branson would have more information, but he said Shalot was acting on his own.” Nick said.

  “For God’s sake.” Katie turned to the passenger window, watching the buildings of downtown move past, almost in slow motion. Traffic was heavy, as usual, further adding to the sense of urgency they each felt in that moment. “Do you think this will ever end?”

  “I’m sorry?” Nick briefly glanced in her direction.

  “Do you think I’ll ever stop being the girl who got away? The girl who brought down a murderer?”

  “Eventually.” He seemed to consider his next words carefully. “The world we live in today connects all of us in ways we’ve never experienced before. Fame or notoriety is so easily obtained now. One only need to post a video of anything onto the internet, good or bad, and it can make them famous overnight. The impact of that influences people whose ideas of right and wrong are blurred, or completely distorted. We can’t filter them out either.

  “Your case received national attention. That doesn’t fade quickly and neither do the people who want to know you.” Nick took a deep breath. “It will pass eventually, Katie, and you’ll go on to live a normal life. I truly believe that. Not everyone turns out to be an Edward Shalot.”

  He pulled into the garage of the FBI field office. “They know we’re coming and should have already prepped Shalot and his attorney.”

  “How much longer can you keep him in holding?” Katie asked.

  “His next court appearance is scheduled in three days. He’ll then be transferred to a federal processing facility while he waits for trial. We’ve got hard DNA evidence on him, Katie. It won’t take long to get a conviction and no judge in the world would set bail on this case.”

  “Even if he didn’t do it? I mean, it’s not like he’s going to admit to instructing any of his followers to commit murder. If we’re lucky we’ll get the name of the one in Sparks, but how are you going to keep him here?”

  “We got the word of a kid looking out for himself, telling us it was Laura Kempt who killed Lindsay. Hard to dispute the physical evidence we’ve already got. We’ll have to see what Avery and Gibbons find when they locate her.” Nick opened the car door. “Come on. Let’s get this over with and see if we can save someone’s life.”

  21

  DETECTIVE GIBBONS ROLLED up to the apartment complex where Laura Kempt was said to be staying until the house she shared with Lindsay Brown was no longer a crime scene.

  “Let’s see if this chick’s still here.” He stepped out of his black Chevy.

  Marshall followed, pu
lling on the jacket he’d tossed in the back seat.

  They climbed the flight of stairs, the metal railing clattering in their wake. The complex was old and hadn’t been well cared for. Kempt had told the police she was staying with a cousin and, to their knowledge, she hadn’t known they’d taken Hudson in for questioning. Nor had she known that Branson had a woman tied up in his basement.

  Marshall tapped his knuckles against the hollow front door that was painted green, although the color was faded and the paint peeled around the frame. A momentary shift of the cream curtains caught his eye, but when he turned, the fabric was released and swung back into its place. “Someone’s here.”

  “San Diego Police. Open the door please,” Gibbons said, looking to Marshall.

  The handle turned slowly and the door opened on hinges in need of oil. “Can I help you?” The woman behind the door held it open only a few inches, but it was not Laura.

  “We’re here to speak with Laura Kempt. Is she available?” Marshall asked.

  The woman’s eyes darted between Gibbons and Marshall. For a moment, Marshall thought she might slam the door in his face. Instead, the woman stepped back, opening the door further.

  “Yes. Please come in.”

  Marshall nodded to Gibbons as both stepped through the doorway.

  “I’ll go and get her,” the woman said.

  When the woman disappeared beyond the corridor, Marshall laid his hand over his .40 caliber Glock. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  “Yeah. Something’s not right.” Detective Gibbons released the flap from his holstered gun, ready to draw.

  The small apartment was in disarray. Dishes piled in the sink, Chinese takeout boxes opened and scattered throughout, and it was in desperate need of a vacuum.

  Marshall heard the faint sound of whispering voices traveling down the narrow hallway. He raised a finger to his lips and then pointed in the direction of the noise. A nod to Gibbons and they began moving slowly towards the back room, guns still holstered, but at the ready.

  “Is everything all right?” Marshall asked, only steps from the room in which the women were speaking. “Laura Kempt? We’re with the police and we’d like to talk to you.” He turned the handle of the door. The voices silenced immediately. Marshall looked back to Gibbons as if ensuring he was prepared for whatever they might find behind the door.

  It took a moment to register, but as soon as he saw the knife in her hands, Marshall knew what was about to happen. “Laura. Stop. Put the knife down.”

  Laura Kempt was sitting on the edge of the bed. The knife, with a three-inch serrated blade that would likely be used to skin an animal, rested against her wrist, the pressure turning her skin white beneath it.

  “Don’t come any closer.” Her pallid face glistened with perspiration.

  The woman, her cousin, clutched the bedpost at the end. “Please, Laura. They’re here to help you.”

  A brief glance was exchanged between Marshall and Detective Gibbons, who was standing next to him. It seemed to have occurred to both of them that the knife looked remarkably similar to the one the ME believed was used on Lindsay Brown. Short blade, serrated, leaving the skin torn and jagged.

  “Laura, put the knife down so we can talk. I’m sure you’re frightened right now, but we are here to help.” Gibbons had been a negotiator with the SWAT team prior to moving to Homicide. Different scenario, but generally included the same principles: ensuring the suspect that the intention was to help, not harm; get them to let their guard down just long enough to move in and retake control of the situation.

  But so far, Laura appeared unmoved. Her cousin was still shaking as she gripped the post.

  “You think I don’t know why you’re here? You think I don’t know who you are, Detective Avery?” Laura pressed harder on the knife, forcing a drop of blood to spill from her wrist.

  “We need to find out what you know about Edward Shalot and Lewis Branson. That’s why we’re here.” This time, it was Gibbons who replied. He saw Marshall flinch at the fact that she knew who he was. It had caught them both off guard, but Gibbons held firm.

  Laura’s mouth upturned into the slightest knowing grin. “He was in love with Katie Reid. Well, what he thought was love. If you ask me, he was obsessed with her. And it was threatening to ruin everything.”

  “Obsessed?” Marshall scoffed at the irony. “You’re the one threatening to end your life because of Shalot. You’re the one who planted his DNA on Lindsay’s body.”

  “Ms. Kempt. You need to come with us now,” Gibbons said, shooting a concerned look to Marshall. He clearly wasn’t helping to calm the woman.

  “What about the others? You know where they are? Shalot’s followers?” Marshall persisted. His tone turned deep, heavy with anger. He was losing control and he could feel it in his bones.

  “Why should I help you, Detective Avery? You can’t help me. No one can.” Laura pulled the knife away from her wrist and jammed it into her thigh. Screaming, her face writhed in agony. She had hit her femoral artery. Blood spilled over her leg like oil spewing from the ground.

  Her cousin screamed in horror, covering her mouth as she watched Laura crumple to the floor.

  Detective Gibbons rushed to her side, laying her down and pressing against the wound, working to slow the blood loss, but he couldn’t dislodge the knife. “Call for help!” he shouted to Marshall.

  Marshall pulled out his cell and called 911, identifying himself. “We need an ambulance at 475 Holston Avenue, apartment 2221. Suspect down.” He moved towards Gibbons. “We need to get that knife to forensics.”

  “Jesus, Avery! Help me out here.” Gibbons’ hands were covered in blood. “Get me a fucking towel or something!”

  He was numb, detached, but he did as Gibbons asked. “Where are the towels?”

  The cousin pointed to a cabinet in the hall.

  Marshall returned with a handful of dingy linens, but it was clear Laura was bleeding out. He handed one of them to Gibbons and moved behind the dying woman to elevate her head, placing another towel beneath for support. He leaned in. “What does he want with Katie?”

  Laura Kempt was drained of color, but she managed to look up at Marshall. “He wants to take her from you.” Her eyes began to flutter. She was losing consciousness.

  A few moments later, the sound of sirens wailed in the distance. The cousin was huddled in a corner, weeping. Marshall watched as Gibbons worked to save the life of this woman. A woman who had killed out of jealousy. And Marshall was left to deal with the aftermath: the knowledge of what Shalot and his followers were capable of doing and, if given the chance, might also do to Katie.

  Shalot was still in custody, but with the knife in Laura’s possession and her admission of guilt, how long would it be before he would have to be released? They would need something more than the words of Lewis Branson and Shaun Hudson to keep him.

  ***

  The viewing room at the FBI field office was much more sophisticated than the one at the station. Monitors were lined up on the desk. There must have been at least half a dozen, each displaying every possible angle of the room. The two-way mirror was large and allowed for unobstructed viewing.

  Katie could see Edward Shalot on the other side of the mirror, shackled to the floor, hands cuffed to the table. It seemed the FBI was taking greater precautions now that they knew what they were dealing with. A man who was holding the strings, leading a handful of people under the façade of a religion whose intent was to restore order through chaos. He had convinced them that Branson wasn’t a true believer, convinced them to kill for their beliefs.

  She knew why Scarborough wanted her there. He had hoped that Shalot would reveal the location of the missing woman to win Katie over. She shuddered at the thought and folded her arms as if protecting herself from the cold.

  “You ready?” Nick placed a hand on her shoulder and walked out into the hallway.

  She nodded and followed him. A few steps away was the
door to the interrogation room where Shalot waited.

  “His lawyer is being brought up now.” It seemed Nick could feel her anxiety. “You can do this, Katie. I know you can.”

  Her mouth tightened into a thin, unconvincing smile when a man approached. It wasn’t Nathan Bender, Shalot’s previous attorney. She looked to Scarborough, ready to ask the question, but Nick preempted her.

  “Shalot was assigned a federal public defender. His previous lawyer was assigned by the state,” Scarborough said.

  “Mr. Trainor,” Nick extended a greeting. “Thank you for coming down. I assume you’ve had time to get acquainted with your new client?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Agent Scarborough” he returned the greeting.

  “I’d like to introduce you to Ms. Katie Reid. She works for San Diego police and has been an integral part of this investigation.”

  “I am familiar with Ms. Reid. I understand she is an acquaintance of my client. But I’m not quite sure why she needs to be here, especially in light of the news.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not up to you, Mr. Trainor,” Nick replied. What did he mean, in light of the news? “Let’s get started. We don’t have time to mess around.”

  Katie’s expression quickly shifted from delight at Scarborough’s tough position regarding her necessity to fear at the sight of Shalot when she walked into the room. His face was changed. It no longer seemed to profess innocence, but rather seemed to display an arrogance she hadn’t seen in him before.

  His eyes were glued to her as she moved to the table, taking a seat across from him. Something was wrong, but she didn’t know what it was. Her gaze turned to Scarborough. He had picked up on it too. It seemed the only people who knew what was happening were Shalot and Trainor.

  The agent guarding the door proceeded to close it as Trainor was the last to enter and take his seat next to his client.