Snapped: An Agent Jade Monroe FBI Thriller Book 1

by Sutter, C. M.

  I opened the folder and read the short paragraph that came from the personnel office.

  “They didn’t mention Jerry getting written up in their statement to the police department.”

  “Yeah, my bad. I told him I’d turn the slips in if he acted up one more time. They’re still sitting in my desk drawer.”

  “Is there any one person in particular that stands out?”

  “Nah, he fought with everyone. It was just his nature. The shifts changed so often that the same people hardly ever worked together. Jerry was someone that spouted off too much, but I can’t picture anyone doing him in over comments at work.” Leroy shook his head. “Nope, I can’t think of one person that would do anything like murder. What actually happened?”

  I smiled. “Nice try, but you know I can’t share the details with anyone outside law enforcement. It’s an ongoing investigation, but I’d like to show you a picture of a cinder block.”

  “Cinder block?” He chuckled. “I know what a cinder block looks like, ma’am.”

  The information about the common murder weapon found at each scene had never been shared with the press. The police department wasn’t quite yet prepared to let the public know there was a possible serial killer roaming the streets of Houston.

  “Please humor me.” I pulled out the photograph of the cinder block found at Jerry’s murder scene. I was thankful there was more than one picture of it. I showed Leroy a side view photo that didn’t have blood evidence on it. “Is there any way to identify those blocks by the company that makes them? I’ve heard there are a number of cement factories in the greater Houston area.”

  “I can’t speak for other companies, but our molds are specific to Cemcom and to the type of job we’re doing. We have decorative block, functional block, and a hybrid of both.”

  I handed Leroy the photo, and he studied it closely.

  “This is a functional cinder block with a decorative façade. In other words, a hybrid. We use them primarily for residential retaining walls.”

  “Is this one of yours?”

  “Yep, it sure is. Our interior cutouts are a bit unique. The large opening that is filled with cement is actually shaped like two c’s facing each other. It’s supposed to represent Cemcom, which is an acronym of the words ‘cement company.’”

  “That’s very interesting information, Leroy. Thank you. May I have a contact number in case I need to follow up with you about Jerry?”

  “Oh sure, here you go.” Leroy pulled a card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to me.

  “May I have one more so I can write my contact information on the back for you? I don’t have my cards with me.” That was a white lie, but Leroy didn’t need to know my business cards hadn’t arrived yet. I thanked him and left then headed back to the field office. I called J.T. as I drove. “How was your meet and greet?” I asked when he answered.

  “I just left the surveyor’s home. Poor lady. The bathroom was being remodeled since the tub was ruined.”

  “Not to mention her husband’s life.”

  “Yeah, no shit. Anyway, the wife said he didn’t have any enemies, was loved by neighbors and every family member, and they had a strong marriage.”

  I laughed. “Everyone says that until the truth comes out.”

  “Cynical?”

  “You betcha.”

  J.T. smirked. “Let’s discuss that sometime. Anyway, she also said he didn’t have a falling out at work with anyone. Apparently, Cornerview Surveying is a small company with only five employees, and they’re the best of friends. They all get together for poker every Friday night.”

  “So, that sounds like a dead end. Each employee was interviewed by the police?”

  “Yeah, they all gave formal statements, and so did the wife. I didn’t find out anything new from her, either. The statement she gave me was almost verbatim to the police report about being in Orlando at the time. The police checked with the grandparents, and they back up her story.”

  “Okay, I’m heading in. I should be at the field office in fifteen minutes.”

  “Yep, see you in a bit.”

  I glanced at the clock on the dashboard then remembered Texas was the same time zone as Wisconsin. Amber would still be on duty. I’d try her later after I was back in my hotel room.

  We gathered in the conference room after everyone had returned to the field office. Michelle Tam stood at the head of the table.

  “Okay, what have we got? Hopefully, you’ve gleaned more information beyond what the police reports show.”

  Agents Miller and Starks read their reports aloud. They reiterated how nothing seemed terribly different than the existing police reports on the table in front of us.

  “Here’s the gist of it, Agent Tam,” Dave said. “Beverly Grant left work on Wednesday at the same time her coworkers did, mentioned how she had to hurry home, round up the kids, and take them to their karate class. When she never showed up at home and didn’t answer her cell phone, the husband went out to look for her. That’s when he saw her empty Buick parked along the road. The police didn’t discover her mutilated body until this morning after daybreak. The neighbors all said she was cordial enough but spent most of her time with the kids and their after-school activities. None of them knew her as a close friend.”

  Tam’s eyebrows rose in a questioning frown. “No hanky-panky in the marriage?”

  “Not according to the husband. Their life insurance policies haven’t been updated in ten years, and no unusual bank transactions have taken place,” Agent Miller said.

  Agent Tam turned to J.T. “Agent Harper, anything new on Ted Arneson?”

  “Only that the guys from Cornerview Surveying got together every Friday night for poker. It sounds like they were good friends, and the company only employs five guys.”

  “That sounds like a dead end, excuse the pun. Agent Monroe?”

  “I did find out a bit more than what was noted in the police report. According to a foreman that Jerry Fosco worked directly under, he was a hothead that fought a lot with his coworkers. The foreman, Leroy Haines, didn’t think anyone took Jerry’s verbal assaults seriously enough to physically harm him. There was one thing I found very helpful, though.”

  Agent Tam smoothed her hair then gave me a nod.

  “Mr. Haines said the cinder block in the police photo was one of theirs, and it was the type most commonly used for residential retaining walls. The only problem with that is those blocks are for sale in every big-box home improvement store across the country. Anyone could have bought them, and anyone could have installed them. According to the Internet, there are forty-two home improvement stores in the greater Houston area that sell cinder blocks.”

  I saw Agent Tam’s shoulders deflate. “So we’re back to square one. Okay, call it a day. Everyone be back in this room at eight a.m. I want all the crime scenes revisited tomorrow, and then we’ll put together an initial profile with the information we have.”

  J.T. walked alongside me as we left the field office. “Nice job taking charge earlier. You’re going to fit in well, Jade.”

  “Thanks, I guess it comes naturally once I get over my shyness.”

  He laughed. “I haven’t seen a shy side of your personality yet. Want to ride together to the hotel?”

  “Sure, that sounds good.”

  “How about dinner? Food is part of our stipend, you know.”

  I noticed his eyes twinkling playfully. He liked to joke, and I was glad of it—it reminded me of Jack. There was a lot about J.T. that reminded me of Jack. Although their hair color and style was different, the good looks, dimples, and sweet disposition were pluses in my opinion. I hoped someday that I would be as close to J.T. as I was to my former partner.

  We boarded the elevator together and exited at the third floor. My room was two doors up the hallway on the left.

  “How about the restaurant downstairs? I like easy.”

  I chuckled. “I like easy too. Say in an hour? I want to show
er and get out of these dusty clothes.”

  “Sure. I’ll be the one banging on your door at seven o’clock.”

  Chapter 11

  Kent was three sheets to the wind by the time dinner was prepared and the table had been set. Each place setting contained a charger under the plate, a napkin next to the fork on the left, the knife blade faced inward on the right, and the spoon sat beside the knife. The water glass was at the one o’clock position above the plate. A bowl of roasted peppers and mushrooms sat next to a platter of almond-crusted cod in the center of the table. Despite Kent’s insistence that she needed mood stabilizers and antidepressants, Jordan knew that she was actually extremely focused and an accomplished cook.

  She tapped Kent’s shoulder then picked up the television remote to turn off the local evening news. Just as her thumb touched the red Off button, Jordan paused and stared at the screen. The segment focused on several murders that had taken place over the last week. At the time of the broadcast, even though the FBI had been called in to assist local law enforcement, nobody was in custody. Jordan gave that some thought—she had more people to deal with and not a lot of time to accomplish the task. The fact that Kent was home had already put her behind schedule.

  Even more irritated, she pushed Kent’s shoulder harder. “Wake up if you intend to eat supper.” She mumbled under her breath, “Pathetic drunk.”

  “What? What do you want?”

  “Get up. Dinner is on the table.”

  Kent pulled himself to his feet. “I’ve got to wash up first.” He held the walls as he stumbled to the bathroom.

  Jordan pulled the legal pad out from under the recliner cushion and took it into the bedroom. She slipped it under the mattress on her side of the bed. Once Kent left, she would continue outlining her plan of attack for the next name on the list.

  Chapter 12

  “Of course it’s different. The traveling will take some getting used to, but it’s what I want and need to do.”

  “And what are the agents in Houston like?”

  I rearranged myself on the chair and took a guilt-free break before dinner to call Amber. My hair had to dry, anyway, and J.T. wouldn’t be banging on my door for another thirty-five minutes.

  “They seem nice enough, and I’m getting to know J.T. better every day.”

  Amber giggled wickedly into the phone.

  “Don’t even start with me. Look how long Jack and I were partners. There’s nothing now, or ever, that’s going to happen beyond a work relationship.”

  “When am I going to meet him?”

  “Who knows. It isn’t like I’m going to host a backyard barbecue this time of year.”

  “We could host an indoor Sunday football game party.”

  “Maybe, I’ll have to give that some thought. I don’t know if that’s considered fraternizing or not. I will admit, though, J.T. is as good looking as Jack, and he’s really nice.” While Amber talked, I sipped the glass of water I had poured from the complimentary bottle next to the microwave.

  “J.T. Harper? That sounds like a name in a made-for-TV cop show.”

  “No kidding, right? Anyway, I’ve got to get ready for dinner. How’s everything at home and work?”

  “It’s all good, and I feel safe with the alarm system. Thanks, sis.”

  “You got it, hon. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Tell the boys hi for me, and give Polly and Porky a big kiss.”

  “Will do.”

  I clicked off and went back into the bathroom to dry my hair and fix my makeup. I had twenty minutes to get ready. As soon as I had on a clean pair of pants and a lightweight sweater, a bang sounded on the door. I laughed, wiped my dusty shoes on the bath mat, and opened the door.

  J.T. looked surprised. “Humph.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked as I tucked my door key into my pants pocket and grabbed my purse and phone.

  “I have two sisters, that’s what humph means. I’ve never known a woman that was ready to go anywhere on time.”

  I shut the door at my back. “Until now.”

  Downstairs at the lobby restaurant and bar, we browsed the menu as the waitress took our drink order.

  “What is our travel food stipend?” I asked when I noticed the expensive fare.

  “Fifty dollars a day. Not bad considering we’ve only had a hamburger and fries today on the FBI’s tab. Order whatever you want. What you have left will easily cover the prices on the menu.”

  “The FBI is crazy different than the sheriff’s department. We didn’t have stipends.”

  “You were also a county employee, not a federal employee.”

  “True. I think I’m having the sirloin tips over noodles and a tossed salad.”

  “Nice choice. I’m having the skirt steak and a baked potato with carrots.”

  The waitress brought our drinks and took our dinner order.

  “So you’re a Scottish Ale enthusiast?”

  “Absolutely. Nothing finer, and apparently you like the local craft beers.” I sipped the foam, my favorite part, then set the beer glass down. I propped my chin in my hands on the table and stared across at J.T. “What’s your gut telling you about this killer?”

  “They’re somebody that plans things out well in advance. That means they have time on their hands. They either work from home, don’t work at all, or can somehow plan their schedule around the victim they’re targeting. All three victims were ambushed in the evening, meaning the killer knew their route home and where they lived.”

  I leaned in and took a deep gulp of my ale. “The person must be strong enough to not care about the volume of cement it took to fill a tub or the weight of those heavy cinder blocks. I mean why carry that stuff around? Use a hammer or something lighter, for Pete’s sake.”

  J.T. chuckled. “I don’t believe you just said that.”

  “Well, seriously. Cement has to represent something. There’s no other reason to use it.”

  “That’s a fact. Let’s see how our combined information shapes up in the morning.”

  J.T. and I talked about the case over dinner. By nine thirty, I was back in my room and relaxing on the bed in my pajamas. With the TV on and the volume low, I listed my own ideas of what the killer’s motivation might be. I checked the time again before I clicked off the light. I figured Jack would still be awake, and I missed my old partner. I made the call, and we touched base for fifteen minutes. I hung up with a smile on my face and closed my tired eyes.

  Chapter 13

  He was definitely trying her patience. Kent needed four cups of coffee to wake himself up enough to leave for the second time that day. Jordan stared at the clock and paced as he rearranged his suitcase and dropped his toothbrush and toothpaste into his bathroom travel kit.

  Finally, at eleven o’clock, he gave her a peck on the cheek, grabbed his bag, and exited the house through the door that led to the garage. Jordan heard the overhead lift and Kent’s car start. With her fingertips, she pulled the sheers aside on the sidelights at the front door and watched him back down the driveway. Within seconds, his brake lights flashed at the end of the block, then he disappeared around the corner.

  She grumbled when he was finally out of sight. “It’s about damn time you left.” She set her cell phone alarm for three a.m., reviewed her notes one last time, and went to bed.

  The chirping alarm woke her from that deep sleep. The bed was warm and comfortable—she enjoyed sleeping alone. Kent disgusted her, and having him lie in bed so close was nearly intolerable, but she’d deal with him later.

  Jordan threw the blankets to the side and climbed out. The dark attire she had placed on the side chair lay neatly folded and ready to slip on. With everything she needed already placed in the backpack, she exited the house and headed to Store-All to pick up the van. She glanced at the time as she drove. Jordan needed to be inside murderer number four’s house in fifty minutes and not a second later. She’d planned her route in advance, and she’d enter through the park that ran parall
el to the back property lines of the homes on his block. Arriving there before daylight would keep her well-hidden at the back of his house as she entered. With the window ajar in that extra room, entering the home would be a cake walk.

  Jordan slowed the van to a stop at the park trail head and exited the vehicle. She’d have a ways to go through the darkened woods before she reached his home. Fifteen minutes into the walk, she stopped to count the number of homes on that street. His was directly ahead. Jordan crouched as she made her way to that back window, quietly lifted the glass, then lowered her backpack to the floor inside. Being tall helped—she easily reached over the sill, pressed her feet on the wall, and heaved herself over the window’s ledge.

  She knelt to the floor as she gathered the immediate tools she needed. The syringe was already loaded and ready. That and the stun gun were dropped into her right jacket pocket, and a small flashlight filled the left. She removed her shoes and crept out of the room.

  His bedroom was the next room on the right, and the door was open just enough that she didn’t have to wonder about creaky hinges. Jordan slipped through without making a sound. A quick flick of the flashlight showed her how he was lying in the bed. His neck was exposed enough that the stun gun could do its job. He’d be disabled long enough for her to inject him with the sedative.

  She felt the familiar shape in her pocket and pulled it out. Her thumb found the round button that would send excruciating electric volts through his body and render him senseless. Jordan crept closer until she was right above him. She leaned in and nailed him in the neck. He grunted, and his body arched then fell limp. Jordan hit the light switch next to the door. She had only a minute at best. With the protective end cap held between her teeth, she pulled the syringe out, exposed the needle, and pierced his skin. Pressing the plunger until it stopped, Jordan emptied the barrel of Methohexital into his neck. She had an hour to complete her task.

  Forty minutes before dawn would lighten the sky, Jordan found the car keys, backed his vehicle out of the garage, parked it in the driveway, and slipped away, apparently unseen. She jogged the several blocks to the van, climbed inside, and drove it to his house. With the van secured out of sight behind the closed overhead garage door, she continued where she’d left off. With one block under each arm, Jordan made three trips to and from the garage to the bedroom. Finally, satisfied with the six cinder blocks that pinned him down, she went to the guest room and retrieved her backpack. Jordan pulled out the vinyl-coated apron, slipped it over her head, and tied it at her back. Things were about to get messy.