by Lisa Harris
She glanced into the window of the garage as they walked toward the front door. There wasn’t a car in the driveway or in the garage. She’d called Kim’s number three more times since leaving the station, but there was still no answer. A sense of urgency engulfed her. If Erika had come here, where were they now?
Jack banged on the front door, next to the yellow and orange fall wreath, then waited for an answer.
Nothing.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” she said, glancing down at the doorframe. There was a muddy footprint on the bottom of the door, like someone had tried to kick it open. She tried the handle. “The door’s unlocked, Jack.”
Nikki stepped into the house behind Jack, her gun raised, feeling her stomach knot. On the long wall of the living room, the news was playing on a flat-screen television. Video of the crash was running in the right-hand corner while a reporter was interviewing one of the passengers.
But something wasn’t right.
The place was simply furnished, with an assortment of mismatched furniture, including a desk, a couple cushioned chairs, and a couch with a handful of pillows. A number of stunning scenic photos lined the fireplace mantel and covered the walls. The Smoky Mountains, Cades Cove, the Tennessee River, and at least half a dozen old barns.
If the outside of the house was any indication of Kim’s personality, she was neat and tidy. But this space had been trashed. Desk drawers gone through, couch cushions piled up on the floor, and papers strewn across the tan carpet.
“I’ll take the bedrooms,” she said.
Jack moved past her toward the kitchen, while she turned down the hallway lined with three doors and many more photos. She slowly opened the door to a bedroom, and a cat brushed past her. Ignoring the pet for now, she went on to the next room. This was a newly remodeled bathroom with more photos, this time of seashells and ocean scenes.
And a pile of clothes on the floor, including a red sweater with gold buttons.
She stepped into the master bedroom, that had at one time, she could tell, been a quiet, tranquil place. There were candles next to the bed with its brown comforter and orange accent pillows, along with three stunning photos of the Smoky Mountains in fall. White curtains billowed in the breeze from the open window leading out to the backyard.
But today there were signs of a struggle. Everything from the top of the dresser had been knocked onto the floor. The comforter and pillows lay in disarray at the bottom of the bed.
Nikki skirted the edge of the queen-sized bed, then froze. A young woman lay on her back, a trail of blood starting from the base of her head and running onto the carpet. Her eyes were open wide, as if she’d been caught by surprise.
Nikki reached down and felt for a pulse. Rigor mortis hadn’t set in yet, but the woman’s skin was tight and gray. She was thirtysomething with dark brown hair, but it wasn’t Erika. And she’d been dead only a short time.
It had to be Kim.
Nikki’s mind ran through the timeline. Erika had left the airport around noon and the taxi had dropped her off here about thirty minutes later. Had Kim been killed because of Erika? And if so, where was Erika?
“Jack?” she called out, grabbing her phone to call for backup. “We’ve got a body.”
7
3:43 p.m.
Kim Parks’s home
“The rest of the house is clear.” Jack appeared in the doorway. “What have you got?”
“A dead female … midthirties. It’s not Erika, so I’m going to assume it’s our home owner, Kim Parks.” Nikki pulled on a pair of latex gloves, then crouched back down beside the body. “I’ve just called for backup.”
“So much for keeping the investigation quiet.” Jack folded his arms. “Can you tell how she was killed?”
“There’s a gunshot wound to the side of her head.”
A leather purse lay beside the body, its contents dumped across the floor near the nightstand and under the bed. Nikki moved back the edge of the ruffled bed skirt, uncovering the edge of a compact Glock 19 handgun.
She felt a shiver go through her as she crouched down next to the weapon. “Looks like she was trying to get to her gun when the attacker came in.”
“I searched the rest of the house. Whoever did this is gone,” Jack said. “So what do you think happened? They show up looking for Erika, discover she’s gone, so they try to get answers from Kim and end up killing her?”
“It makes sense,” she said, pulling out a driver’s license from the wallet on the floor next to the purse.
“It’s a Tennessee license issued to Kim Parks. Thirty-two years old, living at this address, and the photo matches our body.” Nikki held up the driver’s license so Jack could see it. “I’ll call Gwen and see if she was able to come up with any more information on our victim.”
Jack nodded. “Stay here with the body, then. I’ll go set up a perimeter and wait for homicide to get here.”
Nikki reached for her cell phone again. Sirens were already beginning to blare in the background when Gwen picked up.
“Did you find Erika?”
“No, but we found our home owner.” Nikki took a step back from the body. “She’s dead.”
There was a pause on the line, but Gwen didn’t have to speak for Nikki to know what she was thinking. Their job wasn’t to deal with murder scenes. It was to find people before something happened to them.
But this time they’d been too late.
“What about Erika?” Gwen asked. “Any sign of her?”
“The clothes she was wearing on the plane are in the bathroom—but she’s gone.” Nikki moved to look out the front window, avoiding Kim’s lifeless body on the beige carpet. The morning storms had passed, leaving behind a sticky, high humidity. “Were you able to come up with anything on Kim Parks?”
“Just a few basics at this point. There is no marriage certificate on file for her, and she lived at that address for almost three years. She worked as an executive secretary for a law firm downtown.”
“And her connection with Erika?”
“You’ll have to give me a bit more time to figure that one out.”
“We’ll talk to the neighbors. See if anyone saw anything. And see what they might know about Kim and her relationship with Erika.” Nikki glanced toward the door at the sound of voices coming down the hall. “Call me if you come up with anything else. I’ve got to go.”
“I understand there’s no sign of Erika?” Brinkley asked, striding into the room and stopping at the end of the bed.
“No, just a dead body.” Nikki shook her head, wondering how the FBI had gotten to the scene so quickly. “We’re assuming at this point, Erika came here for a change of clothes and to borrow Kim’s car.”
“So Erika was followed here, and whoever came after her tried to stop her,” Brinkley said.
“Your guess is as good as mine at this point.” Nikki glanced at the body, then back to Brinkley. There were questions she needed to ask the agent before official backup arrived, though Brinkley wasn’t going to like them. “I read through the files you sent over.”
“And?”
“There are three logical options at play at this point. Either Erika was able to get away in Kim’s car before the intruder showed up, she was taken by the intruder after Kim was killed, or Erika isn’t who you think she is.”
“What do you mean Erika isn’t who I think she is?”
Nikki drew in a deep breath. If they were going to find Erika, she needed to either shoot down or verify the theory. “I need to know how well you knew Erika. Because I need to know if it’s a possibility she was playing you?”
“Playing me. You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious,” Nikki said. “Erika had nothing to lose. In the transcripts I read through, you threatened her with jail time if she didn’t cooperate. What if she found a way to pacify your agents and the man she loved at the same time.”
“That’s not what happened. We put a bit of pressure
on her when she got scared,” Brinkley said, keeping his voice down, “but she was scared of Russell, not us. Besides that, her flipping on us doesn’t add up. She came to us.”
Nikki frowned. No matter what Brinkley said, it all sounded too convenient. Too wrapped up in a package and delivered to the FBI’s doorstep. And now two people, including the air marshal and Kim Parks—both people Erika had contact with—were dead.
“You think she’s going to change her testimony when she gets up in front of the jurors?” Brinkley asked.
“I’m just looking at all the possibilities.”
“Well, you’re wrong. She wasn’t playing us. Wells and I clocked countless hours interviewing her.”
“Love can be a powerful motivator,” Nikki said.
“So can doing the right thing,” Brinkley said. “She was determined to do what she believed was right.”
“Special Agent Boyd.”
Nikki glanced up as Sergeant Dillard from homicide stepped into the room in front of Jack. The sergeant, whom she’d worked with in the past, stood a couple inches shorter than Jack’s six foot two and was wider around the middle.
“I’m going to start worrying about you and your partner trying to take over my homicide cases if you keep showing up at my crime scenes,” Dillard said, shooting her a grin.
“Trust me, as soon as we brief you, this one is all yours,” Nikki said. A briefing that was clearly going to be limited, due to the FBI’s involvement.
She glanced at Brinkley, who nodded at her, then quickly brought the sergeant up to speed, leaving out the part—for now at least—that Erika had been a key witness for the FBI.
“Thanks for the update,” the sergeant said. “I was told you would need to be kept in the loop on this one. I’ll personally ensure everything we learn is sent your way as long as you keep me up-to-date as well.”
“No problem, sergeant,” Nikki said. “And in the meantime, I’d like to see if I can find a couple of neighbors who might have known Kim.”
“What about you, Agent Brinkley? Is there something I need to know about the FBI’s involvement in this one?” Sergeant Dillard asked.
“There’s a possible link with the victim to an ongoing investigation I’m working on.”
“Then let me know if you have any other questions.”
Nikki followed Brinkley and Jack out of the bedroom and into the living room. The television was still on, playing a seemingly never-ending loop of the crash in the background while a young blonde journalist reported on every angle. At the moment, they were showing photos of the four people who had died in the crash. The next of kin must have been notified. Either that, or someone leaked the flight manifest to the media after doing their own digging.
“They’ve confirmed Patrick Hughes as one of the men who was killed in the crash,” Brinkley said, nodding at the television.
Four dead.
Seventeen injured.
The numbers might change over the next few hours, but one thing wouldn’t change. The lives of every person who’d been on that plane had been altered forever.
A photo of Patrick Hughes was shown as they reported on the fatalities.
“Wait a minute.” Nikki took a step closer to the television and shook her head.
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked.
“What do you know about the dead air marshal?” Nikki asked, turning to Brinkley.
“Our team handpicked him to do the job. Why?”
She stared again at the man on the screen. “That’s not the man who was on the plane.”
“What do you mean?” Brinkley moved next to her in front of the television.
“I mean, that’s not him.”
“Of course that’s Patrick. Like I told you, I handpicked him myself and have worked with him a dozen or more times.”
“You told me the flight manifest didn’t lie, but I’m telling you that isn’t the man who sat next to Erika and me on that flight. So if that really is Patrick Hughes—”
“Then where is he?” Jack asked. “And who was the man in seat 29A?”
8
4:25 p.m.
Nikki caught the panic on Brinkley’s face as he grabbed his phone and punched in a number.
“You’re positive that isn’t the man who was sitting next to Erika on that flight?” Brinkley asked, waiting for the call to go through.
Nikki glanced back at the television. “Positive. Granted, there’s a close resemblance, but the guy on the plane was a few years older, military-type haircut, and grayer.”
“Close enough to pass for the marshal with the right credentials?” Brinkley asked.
“Obviously, yes,” she said.
“So much for an accurate flight manifest,” Jack said, with a hint of defensiveness in his voice as Brinkley stepped away to talk on his cell.
“I still feel like the FBI isn’t telling us the entire story,” she said, “but Brinkley looked genuinely surprised. He thought Patrick Hughes was on that flight.”
Nikki felt a wave of fatigue wash over her. She watched Brinkley’s animated gestures while he spoke on the phone, and wondered—not for the first time today—if she should have walked away from the case when it was offered her. She might have been the last person they knew of who spoke to Erika, but they didn’t really need her. And besides that, she was feeling the tug of her personal life. Tyler, the doctor’s call …
Her gaze settled back on the television, where a reporter was interviewing a spokesman from the airline. If Nikki had learned anything over the past few years with her job, it was that life went on, even in the middle of a case. And that tough cases at work didn’t keep her immune from difficult situations in her personal life. It was a constant fight to compartmentalize work and that private side. Some days were simply harder than others.
Brinkley hung up the call a minute later, his jaw tensed. “Sorry about that.”
“Who else knew that she was coming by plane?” Nikki asked.
“Just Wells, Hughes, the officer who dropped her off at the airport, a couple of higher-ups. We’ve kept the list as short as possible.”
“You mentioned a leak in your team—”
“Yes, but it still doesn’t make sense. I trust Wells and the others working this case with my life. Just like Erika was supposed to trust us with hers.”
“That’s all good and noble in theory,” Jack said, “but you’ve still got a missing witness and now a missing air marshal on top of that.”
“What about Russell?” Nikki asked. “Any sign of him? If he’s the one after Erika—”
“No, but I’ll let you know as soon as we find him.”
“Okay, then what do you want us to do now?” Nikki asked, her hands resting on her hips.
“I’ll work on finding our air marshal,” Brinkley said, “while you keep looking for Erika.”
Nikki nodded. “Gwen’s still working back at the precinct, trying to trace who else Erika communicated with after the crash, but since we don’t know where she went from here, the best next step at this point is talking with the neighbors.”
“Agreed,” Brinkley said, already heading for the door. “Call me as soon as you find something.”
Nikki stepped outside the house with Jack behind Brinkley. A woman was standing on the sidewalk in front of the house next door. She pulled her earphones out of her ears, frowning as she glanced across the yard into Kim’s cordoned-off property.
Nikki approached one of the officers working the scene. “Has anyone spoken to the woman next door?”
“She’s been asked a few initial questions, but she hasn’t yet been informed that the victim was murdered. She was getting ready to go running, but she knew the woman and agreed to stick around if there were further questions.”
“Have you interviewed anyone else?” Jack asked.
“Not many people home this time of day, but Sergeant Dillard has a couple officers canvassing the neighborhood.”
Nikki nodded. “Let me know if
you find anyone else who knew Kim or might have seen what happened.”
“Will do.”
Nikki and Jack crossed the strip of grass between the two houses. Kim’s next-door neighbor looked to be in her late twenties, with dark-brown hair pulled up in a ponytail. She wore Nike shorts and a hot-pink short-sleeved T-shirt.
“Ma’am,” Nikki began, holding up her badge and introducing herself and Jack. “We were told you live here?”
“Yes.”
“And your name?”
“It’s Riley … Riley Silva.” She was still staring across at Kim’s house. Distracted. “I already spoke with one officer, but no one will tell me what happened. Is Kim okay?”
“Were the two of you friends?” Jack asked without answering her question.
“Yeah. But what’s going on?” She pulled on her earphone cord and caught Nikki’s gaze. “Please. You’re scaring me.”
Nikki took in a slow breath. Nothing she could do would ever prepare her for this moment. Because she knew what it was like on both sides.
“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this,” Jack began, “but we found Kim murdered in her home this afternoon.”
“Murdered? Kim? No … no, that’s not possible.” Riley stumbled back a few steps and sat down on the bottom porch stair, looking around like she was waiting for someone to tell her this was nothing more than some horrible joke.
Jack signaled for Nikki to take over. Dealing with weepy women wasn’t one of his fortes.
“Riley …” Nikki took a step forward and knelt down in front of the woman. “Can I call someone for you?”
“No … I … I’ll call my husband in a few minutes.” Her hands gripped her thighs, and she was struggling to breathe. “She can’t be dead. It’s just not possible. I mean, everyone … everyone loved Kim. She took in stray cats, for goodness’ sake. Worked Thanksgiving at the homeless shelter, and always remembered my birthday.”
“I really am sorry, Riley,” Nikki said, sitting down beside her.
“What happened?”
“We’re not sure at this point. It looks like someone might have broken into the house. We’re doing everything we can to find out exactly who did this and make sure they’re arrested.”