Snapped: An Agent Jade Monroe FBI Thriller Book 1

by Sutter, C. M.

  “Was the husband with her?” Agent Tam asked.

  “Nope, she said he was out of town. Apparently he’s a medical sales rep and travels a lot.”

  “What kind of car was she in, and what did she look like?” J.T. asked.

  I nodded, knowing what he was getting at. “She did have a dark sedan, but I didn’t think to check the make and model. She never got out, so I couldn’t tell you her height or weight. She had long blond hair, though. From what I could see in the dark, she looked to be between thirty and forty.”

  “Dave, pull up her driver’s license.”

  “You got it, boss. I mean, Agent Tam.”

  A slight smile crossed her lips. “Boss is fine.”

  Dave exited the room and took the elevator to the computer lab. He was back in the conference room ten minutes later with a printout of Jordan Taylor’s driver’s license and registration. He slid it across the table to Agent Tam.

  I watched her expression change. “The registration says she drives a dark blue 2009 Accord.” She gave me a glance. “Does that fit the description of the car she was sitting in?”

  I agreed with a nod. “I’d go with that, boss.”

  “J.T., what about the car you saw near the Dormin house?”

  “An Accord would work.”

  “Good, now we’re getting somewhere.” She looked at the printout of Jordan’s driver’s license and smiled. “According to her license, it says Jordan Taylor is thirty-three years old, weighs one hundred sixty-two pounds, and she’s six foot one inch.”

  I nearly leaped from my chair. “Is everyone thinking the same thing I am?”

  “That Jordan Taylor and Jordan Green are one and the same?” Bruce said.

  “We need to get a search warrant. Chances are, we can match that shoe tread on the wall of Mark’s house to a pair of shoes she owns,” I said.

  Agent Tam poured a round of coffee. “Jade, take a breath. A search warrant takes a judge’s approval and signature, and then there’s the fact that tomorrow starts the weekend. We need something more. Right now we’re just speculating with no conclusive evidence to go along with our theories. We don’t have proof of anything.”

  Seconds later, the landline phone in the conference room rang. Agent Tam picked it up.

  “SSA Michelle Tam speaking. How may I help you?”

  She told us that Rachel from the forensics lab was calling.

  “Rachel, I’m putting you on speakerphone. Go ahead.”

  “Good evening, Agent Tam. I wanted to let you know the blood work from Mark Fellenz just arrived. The ME already left for the night, and he asked if I’d relay the results to you when they came in. Apparently, Mark Fellenz was injected with Methohexital.”

  “Methohexital? That’s a new one.”

  “Boss?”

  “Yes, Jade.”

  “Jordan Taylor may have access to that drug. She did say her husband is a medical sales rep.”

  Agent Tam nodded. “Rachel, who has access to that type of drug? It is a controlled substance, isn’t it?”

  “It absolutely is, ma’am, and other than pharmacies, hospitals, and doctors, I guess only drug reps could get their hands on it legally.”

  “Good to know. Thanks for the update, Rachel.” She hung up and gave each of us a grin. “We’re making progress, guys.” She wrote that bit of information on the whiteboard. “Okay, what about Jerry Fosco’s neighbors, Bruce?”

  “Damn, with all this commotion, I almost forgot. The guy two houses down the street said Jerry bugged him a number of times about going to TaTas with him. He swears he never did because his wife would have killed him.”

  “TaTas? Clever name. Is that what I think it is, a strip club?”

  “Apparently so, ma’am.”

  Agent Tam’s cell phone buzzed on the table. She checked the text then addressed J.T. with two twenties in her hand. “Would you mind running downstairs and bringing the pizzas up? The deliveryman is at the reception counter. Let’s break for dinner and continue this conversation after we eat.”

  Chapter 22

  Jordan was back in the safe solitude of her home. That alone time was the only way she had the opportunity to do what needed to be done. She could never pull off these heinous crimes if Kent was around. Jordan sat on the couch, a glass of wine at her side, as she scrolled through Myron’s cell phone and deleted every communication between them. Even if the police subpoenaed his records, they could never tie him to her, or any of the victims, for that matter. Her prepaid phone gave her complete anonymity.

  The jacket she wore earlier lay submerged in a sink of cold water in the laundry room. She hoped the blood stains would wash away, or she’d have to burn it.

  With every conversation now erased, she tossed Myron’s phone into the microwave and set the timer for ten minutes. She had seen somebody do that on a made-for-TV crime series and wanted to know if it would really destroy the phone. With the paperwork she’d taken from the Dormin house lying in the trash can, Jordan struck a match and tossed it in. Flames burst upward and set his daily calendar, along with Ted Arneson’s, on fire. She opened a few windows and poured another glass of wine.

  Myron’s name was checked off her list—five down and three to go. The end of the retribution was right around the corner, and she wouldn’t stop until they were all dead.

  With the wineglass in one hand and the legal pad in the other, Jordan looked at the next name on her list. Numbers one through eight were written on the left side of the paper with a corresponding name assigned to each number.

  The hatred she felt for John Nels, the inspector that had looked over the crumbled retaining wall, took her back to that dark place. That was the day he told her she didn’t have a claim against Cemcom, or anybody, for that matter. She’d never win the lawsuit. Days of constant rain and saturated ground caused the horrific accident—nothing more. She looked forward to ending John Nels’s life. In her mind, everyone skated by scot-free and admitted no responsibility whatsoever. Each person and every company got a pass on his word alone.

  That won’t do, now will it, John? I’ll have to come up with something suitable for you.

  She stared at the last two names on the sheet and smiled.

  Killing you two will give me the most satisfaction of all. I’m saving the best for last.

  Chapter 23

  I wolfed down my last piece of pizza about the same time everyone else did. A beer would have gone nicely with it, but like it or not, we were still on the clock.

  Agent Tam suggested the guys go to TaTas to look over the surveillance camera feed from Monday night. If Jerry was there that night, and as drunk as the toxicology report stated he was, he certainly didn’t drive himself home. He also had stun gun marks on his neck that were identical to the ones Beverly Grant and Ted Arneson had.

  I ribbed the guys about being chosen to visit TaTas. I had my own agenda to concentrate on so I headed to the computer lab to look up every medical sales company in the metro Houston area to see what I could find. I needed to speak to Kent Taylor as soon as possible. Maybe he could enlighten me about his wife’s personality. That brief conversation I had with Jordan didn’t tell me enough. If she was the killer, I still didn’t know her trigger.

  I turned around when the door opened at my back. J.T. entered with a Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee. “Thought you might need this after all the pizza you ate.”

  I was getting acquainted with the playful side of J.T., and I liked it. “Meaning what? That I’d fall asleep after eating? That’s more of a guy thing, and the pizza wasn’t quite a Thanksgiving dinner.” I grinned. “Appreciate it, though. I thought you were going with Bruce and Dave.”

  “I am. They had to hit the john first. We’ll be leaving soon.”

  “I think I’ll work for an hour and call it a night. I could use a decent night’s sleep.”

  “Yeah, I hear that.”

  “So, I’m stuck on how our killer subdued Myron Dormin. He was the only one
without a stun gun mark on his body.” I raked my hands through my hair. “I’m thinking she showed up early, and he wasn’t prepared yet. That would explain why we didn’t find any mock-ups, printouts, or price sheets. There wasn’t even a file for her on his computer, according to forensics.”

  J.T. scratched his chin. “Makes sense. She caught him off guard when he was trying to get organized and nailed him literally in the temple with that compass.”

  Bruce and Dave walked in seconds later.

  “Ready?” Dave asked as he jerked his head toward the door.

  “Yep, let’s go.”

  “Hey, don’t have too much fun, guys. You’re supposed to be serious FBI agents, you know.”

  I worked for another thirty minutes and printed out names of all the medical sales companies in the area. I leaned back in my chair and thought about Jordan’s words. The retaining wall toppled over. If there were any blocks left, it could be a way of comparing hers to the ones used in the murders. There had to be some sort of science that could tell us if the blocks used as murder weapons came from the same lot as ones that possibly remained at her home. I wanted to take a look for myself. With the last gulp of coffee to wake myself up, I checked out a car and left for the Taylor residence.

  I tried J.T.’s phone as I drove. Past experience told me it wasn’t wise to go to a possible murderer’s house and snoop around alone. I was sure Dave and Bruce could handle checking out the video at TaTas on their own. The call dropped every time I dialed his number. I stared at my phone, shook it several times, and even tapped it against the dashboard, but nothing helped. I couldn’t get through to him.

  Damn it. What’s wrong with the cell service tonight? Even if his phone is off, I should still be able to leave a message.

  I decided to continue on and take a harmless peek. Nobody would be the wiser, and I had no intentions of knocking on Jordan’s door. I just wanted a quick look around the yard.

  The clock on the dashboard showed nine o’clock by the time I pulled onto her street and parked a few houses down, where the area was absent of street lamps. The black sedan was nearly invisible along the curb. I’d be there and gone in a matter of minutes. Slivers of light peeked around the edges of the drawn drapes in what was likely the living room. She was probably still up unless she left lights on when Kent was away.

  I crept along the outside edge of the driveway and turned at the side of the garage. I looked for an area on the property that would have had a retaining wall out of necessity or purely for ornamentation. A quick flick of my flashlight every few feet sufficed as I did a wide sweep between the houses. The neighbor’s yard appeared to stand at a higher elevation, and the ground between the properties looked washed away. That had to be where the retaining wall once stood. I turned and shined my flashlight toward the side of the house, then I saw them. Stacks of whole and broken cinder blocks lined the wall at the end of the garage. I needed only one to take back with me, and I was sure nobody would miss it. I held the flashlight between my teeth and pulled one block away from the stack. Stones toppled to the ground and hit the walkway that wrapped the side yard. The sound was too loud to go unnoticed. I grimaced and turned with the block under my arm. I had hopes of making a quick exit when the blinding light hit me square in the face. The voice was unmistakable. Jordan Taylor had caught me in the act.

  “Evening, Agent Monroe. I see you’ve come back.”

  The sound of the electric current bouncing between the prongs buzzed in my head, and the pain was excruciating. My knees buckled under me, and I hit the ground.

  Chapter 24

  “I was minding my own business and enjoying a glass of wine, until I heard that sound outside. Good thing I forgot to close the windows earlier, but now I have to deal with your sorry ass.”

  Jordan stared down at the agent’s writhing body then grabbed her by the arms and dragged her to the garage. She entered the code and slipped under the rising door. With Jade’s sidearm removed and safely placed on the workbench, Jordan zip-tied her hands and feet together then jammed a rag into her mouth to keep her quiet. She scoured the workbench until she found a roll of duct tape. With the edge pinched between her teeth, she ripped off a strip and secured it over Jade’s mouth.

  “Now what the hell am I supposed to do with you? This wasn’t in my plans, you stupid bitch.” Jordan kicked Jade in the ribs then paced back and forth in the garage. “Where’s your cell phone? That has to go.”

  She dug through Jade’s pockets until she felt the shape of the phone. She pulled it out, turned it off, and stomped it on the cement floor.

  “I’ve got to get rid of the car you came in before anything else.” She dug again and found the set of keys in Jade’s right back pocket. “I have to think this through. There’s no way in hell you’re going to disrupt my plans.”

  Jordan exited the garage through the side door and clicked the key fob to the car. She saw lights blink on a vehicle a few houses away. She jogged to the cruiser, got in, and with the lights off, backed into the driveway. She entered the garage the same way she exited then dragged Jade to the corner, raised the overhead, and drove the cruiser in. Jordan slammed the car door behind her as she climbed out, then she slapped the button on the wall and lowered the overhead. She heaved a deep sigh and gave the agent a hateful scowl as she headed into the house.

  “Why couldn’t you have left me alone?”

  Minutes later, Jordan returned to the garage with a syringe in hand. She pulled off the cap and sank the needle into Jade’s arm then watched as Jade’s eyelids became heavy and finally closed.

  “Now to get rid of you, the cinder blocks, and everything in the house that could be used against me.”

  With the trunk popped and the side door open, Jordan filled the trunk with every block that was stacked outside. Back in the house with a garbage bag in hand, she filled it with her unused medications, latex gloves, notes, phone, tax and bank receipts, and everything she had hidden that belonged to those despicable people. She gave the house a final once-over then returned to the garage. With Jade’s service weapon tucked in her purse, her broken phone in the cup holder, and the car ready to go, she lifted the agent from the floor and dropped her in the backseat of the cruiser. She pulled out of the garage and headed to the All-Store facility.

  Jordan watched her surroundings as she drove. Driving a car with government-issued plates was a risk she had to take. Constant checks through the side mirrors kept her on edge but alert. She flicked her second cigarette out the window and tossed Jade’s phone out too. Twenty minutes later and without incident, she slipped her card into the slot, the gate lifted, and she drove through. She backed the cruiser as close to the roller door as possible and killed the engine. Quickly, even though the facility was as dead and quiet as a cemetery, Jordan emptied the car’s contents into the garage then pulled the unconscious agent out, lifted her over her shoulder, and deposited her in the back of the van. With a click of the fob, Jordan locked the van and exited the garage. She pulled the roller door down and turned the key in the lock, then she gave the handle a tug to make sure it was secure and drove out of the facility. She knew the perfect place to dispose of the cruiser, and it could buy her a few extra days.

  Sounds of jets lined up on the runway, their engines revving, echoed in her ears as she pulled into the short-term lot at the airport a half hour later. She locked the cruiser’s doors, dropped the keys into the nearest trash can, and took the sidewalk to the arrivals area where she flagged down a taxi.

  “Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked as Jordan climbed into the backseat.

  “The intersection of Fairmont and Clark will do just fine.”

  “You got it. Have a nice flight?”

  “Let’s just say it was an unexpected trip.”

  Jordan leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. The drive would take twenty minutes.

  “We’re here, ma’am,” the driver said as he pulled to the curb.

  With closed fists,
Jordan rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, handed him thirty dollars, and exited the cab. An eight-block walk would get her back to her front door.

  Chapter 25

  The pounding bass of the deep sultry music mixed with occasional hoots and hollers had become distracting.

  “Can we please close that door?” J.T. asked as he became increasingly annoyed.

  “Sorry, man, I’m the head of security. I have to keep an eye on the stage and bar area.”

  “I bet you do,” Bruce said as he rolled his eyes.

  J.T. redirected the men back to the video footage on the computer screen. “Is that the best clarity you can get of the parking lot? It’s so grainy you can’t make out anyone’s features.”

  “Complain to the owner. This equipment is at least fifteen years old. Upgrading is expensive, and to be honest, we’ve never had anyone ask to see our tapes.”

  Dave groaned. “I’m sure by the crowd you pull in, the owner could easily afford new equipment. Everything is way too dark on this tape, inside and out.”

  John Lissome, the head of security, had become testy and apparently tired of the three FBI goons wasting the last hour of his time. “Dude, this is a strip club. The only thing that’s ever lit up is the stage. I’m sure you noticed that when you boys walked through.”

  “Okay, take a breath. Let’s check that parking lot footage again,” J.T. said.

  “You mean for the sixth time?”

  J.T. glared. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. Do you have a problem with it?”

  The man sighed. “I need to get back to my job, that’s all.”

  “In due time. Now rewind that tape and run it at a slower speed.” After reviewing the tape again with nothing definitive showing up, J.T. stood and ground his fist into his eyes. “We’ll need to take that tape with us. The downtown PD’s tech department might be able to clean it up.” He handed John Lissome his business card and asked him to pull the tape.