by Stacy Green
She gave me a smile as predatory as a hyena’s. “I’ve got sources telling me the police are worried about Chris’s well-being. Not to mention his physical health.”
“Sources?” I tossed my empty coffee cup in the trash. “I’ll have to mention those sources to Agent Lennox. I highly doubt the FBI wants any kind of leak in this case.”
“Every news station in the country needs to have Mary and Chris’s faces running at all times.” Ried was undeterred. “Are the FBI covering the airports? Are they watching the train stations out of Baltimore and Philadelphia?”
“Why don’t you ask Agent Lennox?” The idea of this Barbie questioning his ability to handle the investigation warmed the chillier areas of my cold heart. “I’m sure he’d be glad to tell you exactly what he thinks.”
“The FBI doesn’t speak to the press unless they feel it somehow benefits them,” she said. “He’s not aware of what I could do to help.”
I stood, feeling the tendons in my knees stretch. In my jeans and sweater, my hair pulled back and no makeup, I felt dowdy next to her. I doubted she ever left the house without her face on. But that’s all she had on me. Her pitiful attempt at manipulating my trust made me feel like laughing in her face.
“Why don’t you help by searching? Or even better, keeping your nose out of it and stop trying to make a name for yourself based on other people’s misery?”
She did her best impression at looking shocked, as if she’d never been rebuffed. Her gaping mouth and wide eyes made her look like a dead fish with a painted face. “That’s not what I’m trying to do at all. The media is a powerful thing. Our viewers are the largest demographic in the greater Philadelphia area, and I’ve no doubt a lot of the satellite stations would pick up the story. You’d probably even make the national news.”
“Is that what you want? Me to sit down and make a plea for Chris’s safe return?”
“Of course,” she said. “Humanize him. Tell the viewers how you met, how the two of you found Kailey, which led you to the truth about Mary Weston. Through Chris, and I assume Jenna Richardson, you know firsthand what she’s capable of. The viewers need to hear that. They need to know what they can do to help bring Chris home.”
I’d heard enough. This stupid woman wanted nothing more than to get an exclusive with someone who’d had access to the Weston’s survivor, Jenna Richardson, and to Chris. She’d ask gruesome questions the public didn’t need to know, and she’d try to convince me to play amateur psychologist where Chris was concerned.
“I’m going to tell you this one time.” I leaned closer, lowering my voice as if confiding some snippet of my soul. “If you have questions about the investigation into Chris’s disappearance, don’t ask me. Ask your police source or Agent Lennox. And if you approach me again about giving some trashy tell-all, I will physically hurt you. Do you understand?”
She blinked, wide eagle eyes with finely fringed lashes. “I just want to help.”
“Then go back to Philadelphia.”
Kelly was awake and dressed when I returned. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her face a mask of twitching nerves. I gave her a cup of coffee and the last chocolate donut from the lobby. “What happened?”
“Stupid reporter asking even more stupid questions,” I said. “How did you sleep?”
“Better than I expected to. How about you?”
“I got a few hours.”
She stretched her arms over her head, rolling her neck. “Todd has a point.”
We hadn’t spoken about Todd’s theory of Chris and Mary last night. Kelly seemed to understand I’d reached my limit when the detective left the room. But today was a new day. “I know he does.”
“And he stalked you. There’s no other way to put it.”
“Let’s keep that between us, okay? It’s not going to help find Chris, so no one else needs to know.”
“That’s fine,” Kelly said. “But I just want you to remember, he’s already shown he’s capable of doing some pretty bad things–even if they were harmless. If his mother gets her way, he won’t want to come back.”
“He won’t go that far.” I wasn’t sure where my faith came from. “Chris needs answers, but he also hates her. She’s the cause of his problems. I’m not worried about his going along with her.”
“You’re worried about her killing him because he won’t,” Kelly said. “Let’s hope he’s found before it comes to that.”
“That’s not it,” I said, finally able to organize the wretched mess of my head. “I’m worried he’ll kill her, and not just in self defense.”
Kelly shivered despite the heat in the room, the single jerk of her head acknowledging she understood my meaning.
19
At the Jarrettsville police station, the administrative conference room about the size of a breadbox had been turned into the command center. A coffee carafe and a box of donuts sat on the table next to a pile of napkins that had cascaded over like an accordion. A white board had scribblings from the case, various bits and pieces of evidence I already knew, as well as photos of Chris and Mary, along with the dead girl from the cabin. Seeing Chris labeled “victim” made me feel as if I’d just showered with ice. Kelly walked by my side, her small shoulders hunched, her head low. Todd walked a respectful distance behind. I knew his sharp mind still swam with questions about Kelly. He’d eventually put two and two together, if he hadn’t already.
Three sets of eyes turned on us. Lennox, clearly the alpha, stood in the middle of the group. His blazer and tie were gone, replaced with a simple dress shirt and slacks, but his stance still commanded attention. I guessed he served in the military, possibly Special Forces. Those guys knew how to choke fear to death, and even worse, they were pros at spotting it in the enemy.
Next to Lennox stood an equally tall man wearing a Harford County Sheriff’s uniform. His slicked back hair bordered on using too much product, his nose a bit too big for his face. His lazy eyes scanned the room with little emotion, as if he’d seen this all before and had long since lost hope for a positive outcome. A younger man closer to Kelly’s age sat at the end of the table with a laptop. His shaggy hair fit right in with his generation, and his baby face belonged in high school.
“Lucy.” Agent Lennox’s voice rang with frustration. “Nice of you to join us. This is Detective Adams from the Harford County Sheriff’s Major Case Squad.” He glanced at the detective. The jurisdictional tension rippled through the air. Technically, the police were supposed to invite the FBI in on cases, but Mary Weston was already an FBI-assigned case, and Chris Hale was from another state. So Lennox was within his rights. But unless I’d blacked out part of that first evening, the FBI had probably been informed long before the Major Case Squad in Harford County. Chief Deputy Frost’s being assigned to beat the pavement in the search instead of in here with the big boys was likely punishment.
I cleared my throat, realizing from the look on Lennox’s face it was time for my own introduction. “This is my friend Kelly Swan.” This was the moment we both dreaded, but Kelly insisted it happen. She wanted to help, no matter the consequences. “She works as a forensic computer consultant for the Philadelphia Police Department, and she wanted to come down to support me.”
Behind me, Todd made a hard, chuffing sound in his throat. I hated revealing Kelly’s identity to him, for purely selfish reasons. Knowing she was insulated from scrutiny, cocooned in her apartment, made me less responsible for her safety. Now, she was in the thick of it, with me. For me.
“I usually work from home.” The strength in Kelly’s voice surprised me. “And I know this is your operation, of course. But I’d like to offer another set of eyes.” As she spoke, her chin raised, as if each word gave her a little more confidence. My self-pity bloomed to pride once again.
Lennox’s steely eyes honed in on Kelly, and I fought the urge to block her from his view. “You have credentials? I can’t just let anyone walk into this investigation. We’ve already got a reporter skulkin
g around.”
As Kelly handed over her department issued identification, I told Lennox about Beth Reid. “She knew Chris and I were friends, which isn’t a stretch. But she claimed to have sources from the department who said police are worried about Chris’s mental and physical health.”
“She’s bluffing.” Detective’s Adam’s spoke with more vigor than I expected from his baleful appearance. “Of course we’re worried about those things. That’s common sense.”
Lennox handed Kelly’s I.D. back with a brief nod. “What you see doesn’t leave this room, and Ryan is in charge of the technical investigation.” The twenty-something with the shaggy hair looked up from his laptop and gave a little wave. I almost laughed at the difference between field and office agents. Ryan bore the casual stance of his generation, more comfortable with his computer than with a gun, while Lennox kept his hand on his weapon while he talked, as if drawing his authority directly from the piece.
“I’m a senior tech agent with the Maryland FBI office,” Ryan said. He smiled shyly at Kelly. “I’m happy to have another set of eyes.”
She nodded, her whole body moving with the motion, and then looked at her feet.
As for Lennox, he missed nothing. “To answer your reporter’s question, of course we’re manning the airports–every one within a hundred miles. We’ve got roadblocks set up. Their pictures are running on every station in Maryland, Philadelphia, and northern Virginia. I’ve also got a grainy security photo circulating of the strange old man several eyewitnesses from town have mentioned. Anything else?”
“I told her if she had additional questions to speak with you.”
“Thanks.” He turned to the white board as if it would yield new answers. “Here’s what we know. Mary Weston was squatting in that hunting cabin for an undetermined amount of time. The girl has been identified as Carey Magnum, missing from northern Virginia for sixteen days. The medical examiner confirmed she died between two and four hours prior to our discovery. That’s some time between five and seven P.M., Tuesday evening, which means Mary doesn’t have as much of a head start as we’d originally thought.” He turned back to look at our group, eyebrow raised. “You guys might as well sit.”
I took the nearest chair, while Kelly sat next to me. Todd positioned himself across the table, his eyes searing into me. I didn’t look at him.
“We know from his voicemail messages that Chris Hale encountered someone Tuesday morning.” Lennox picked up a marker and tapped the end on the board. “At approximately eight A.M., Chris left the message for Lucy that ended with the gunshot. By the time Chief Deputy Frost was able to zero down the location and find the blood in the snow, roughly nine hours had passed. Carey Magnum’s body was found at 9:00 P.M.” He looked at all of us, making sure the information sank in.
Frustration burned within me. While we were sloughing around in the snow, that girl was being murdered, damned near under our noses. The same questions from the first night rattled through me. Why hadn’t Chief Deputy Frost been aware of the cabin? Wasn’t it her job to know the local area? Why hadn’t she swallowed her pride and called in the state troopers or the Major Case Squad detective?
“Chief Deputy Frost,” Detective Adams spoke as if reading my mind, his tone sounding more like stock loyalty to his fellow officer than conviction, “handled things to the best of her ability. Maryland landowners are serious about their privacy, and very few people would have known about the cabin. She wasn’t able to get ahold of the owner or the real estate agent until it was too late for this young girl. It’s unfortunate and unfair, but it’s part of the job. That’s why we need to find Mary Weston and her accomplices right away.”
“Accomplices?” Something simmered inside me. “As in plural? I assume you’re referencing this old man who came into town for supplies? But is there any proof he was in the cabin?” I finally allowed a glance at Todd. He shrugged his shoulders, but I could tell from the skittish look in his eyes he knew more than he was saying.
“We’re all in agreement at least one other male was in the cabin with Mary,” Agent Lennox said. “Toiletry items and clothing left suggest that, and we’ve already confirmed with the cabin’s owner that it was empty when he left it. As for the old man, we found an overcoat resembling the one in the security footage from the pharmacy. It’s not an absolute, but it’s a start. Given his age and description, we’d hoped to find prescription meds left behind, but Mary’s better than that.”
“That’s one accomplice who sounds pretty frail,” I said. “I suppose he could have been the one to shoot Chris, which might explain why he’s still alive. Or was, at least in the cabin.”
Lennox nodded, but his hard look told me he expected me to move on to the next possibility.
My jaw tightened as I spoke. “You’re not suggesting Chris is in on this?”
Agent Lennox put the marker back in its place and walked to the head of the table, resting his muscular bulk on his hands. “We need to look at all the facts and keep an open mind. You know what she’s capable of.”
I shook my head, refusing to admit I’d been worrying about the same thing.
“As for this old man, three different witnesses from the pharmacy, grocery store, and hardware store said he came in on the same day every week,” Detective Adams said. “All described him as acting strangely and in a hurry. No one recognized him, so they assumed he was from out of town, but he never offered any personal information. Yesterday was the day he should have come in for supplies. He didn’t show up, which keeps him on my suspect list, no matter how frail he seems. That could be an act.”
Lennox took over. “We’ve gone over the emails between Chris and his mother multiple times. Our staff psychiatrist has read them as well.” His eyes remained on me, each word carefully measured. “Given the new information about Chris knowing that his aunt and uncle lied about the custody battle, we’re all in agreement Chris is very vulnerable to this woman right now. You even said it yourself.”
“So Stockholm Syndrome. Or something like it?” I shook my head. “Not Chris. Not this soon, anyway. He didn’t help kill that girl. He won’t help kill anyone else.”
“How do you know?” Lennox asked.
I thought of Chris’s pale face as he stared at Preacher, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed and his tense face as we struggled with the body. “I just do. Is he in danger of his mother breaking him down psychologically? Yes. But to the point of becoming a killer? No. Chris would die first.”
“I hope you’re right,” Lennox said. “His uncle feels the same way, but we’ve got to keep all possibilities open.”
“Where is ADA Hale?” Todd finally spoke.
“He went back to Philadelphia,” Lennox said. “There’s not a lot he can do here, and he needs to be with his wife.” His eyes slid to mine, and I squirmed. He knew I’d been in the apartment. I’d have to decide how much to tell him.
“So the plan right now is going over a lot of data I’ve had brought in from various police records,” Lennox said. “Detective Beckett, we haven’t located your father, but we’ve searched the entire state of Philadelphia for marriage licenses in 1992, the year they would have been married. There’s no record matched to your father.”
My stomach sank. I’d been clinging to the hope that we’d find her via the name she used with that marriage.
Todd’s mouth twisted. “So you’re saying they were never married? All those years, all that trauma, and they never made it legal? And yet she applied for a social security card with my father’s last name?”
Lennox scowled as though he smelled something rotten. “If she legally changed her name, there’s no record of it. She applied for the Social Security number in December of 1992, and she provided the required birth certificate and driver’s license. Both stated her name as Martha Beckett.”
“Fakes.” I stated the obvious. Kelly and I both knew how easy it was to forge documents, and pre 9/11, it would have been even easier. I looked across the tabl
e at Todd’s angry face and was again hit with the sense of righteous disappointment. Why did so many good people’s lives have to be churned through the meat grinder?
Lennox sighed. “It’s a low blow, because we know that neither Weston or Beckett is her real last name, but we don’t have any kind of physical starting point beyond those names. For all we know she could have told your father her name was Weston too. It’s not like she was on the hook for the murders at the time. I did manage to get John Weston’s work records from the Maryland State Highway Association. He worked for them until shortly before he and Mary showed up in Lancaster in early 1980.”
He dropped a thick printout onto the table. “We’ve got one small break. Interstate 95 had a major overhaul in 1978–one of those projects that was supposed to last six months but took more than a year. John Weston worked on the stretch running south from Baltimore to the Virginia state line. We need to cross reference the police data looking for similar crimes near that route. If we’re really lucky, we’ll find something that ties to Mary.”
“Why?” Kelly asked, her voice soft but firm. “This is going to take a lot of man hours, and with all due respect, how does information from so long ago help us now?”
“It might not,” Lennox said. “But Lucy seems to think that Mary would keep Chris around to tell him his true life story, especially now that he knows she didn’t willingly give him up. It’s a long shot, but I’m hoping we’ll find someplace they might retreat to. We’re also looking for similar crimes in the tri-state area prior to 1978, in case Mary acted alone before she met John, or had another accomplice. Anything that would lead us to someone with information.”
He nodded at Adams, and both men grabbed for their jackets.
“What will you be doing?” I asked.
“We’ve got an eyewitness to talk to, and then we’re following another lead. I’m also checking in on the search. See how Chief Deputy Frost is handling that.” Lennox zipped his North Face jacket. “But first, I’d like to talk to you in private, Lucy.”