by Tom Barber
‘.45?’ Peralta said.
She nodded.
‘High school guards are licensed to carry Glocks only, aren’t they? A .45 is a different calibre.’
‘I noted that. Cummings was a member of a city gun club; we made some calls, and the owner said Cummings reported his Glock stolen when he was at the range, two weeks ago. The gun he used today must have been a replacement until he could relocate his old pistol. In normal circumstances I guess he’d be on a disciplinary, but I figure after what he did today the school would have let him off.’
‘Did Somers have anything in his pockets?’ Font asked.
‘Just a wallet with a couple of bucks and his state ID.’
‘What about Cummings?’
She held up the sealed evidence bag which contained the white sheet of paper, crease lines indicating it had been folded. ‘We found this. Figured you’d want to see it before it goes to Hoover for analysis.’
Font quickly took the evidence bag and examined the note.
‘You’ve ignored me for too long,’ she read, the words printed in Times New Roman, the font 11 or 12. ‘This is for all of you who’ve made my life hell. You’re all responsible. Now it’s payback time.’
She looked up.
‘What was he doing with this?’
‘I called Hoover and asked for details of the witness reports from the scene. Apparently a student who helped Cummings out of the room said the guard went over to Somers after he shot him and kicked his weapon out of the way. She said Somers was still alive at that point. Apparently Cummings checked his pockets too; she thought he was looking for more weapons.’
She tapped the note.
‘He must have found this.’
Peralta re-read the note.
This is for all of you who’ve made my life hell.
‘There’s your motive,’ the ME said. ‘Kid clearly had a vendetta.’
She checked her watch, then took back the note.
‘I need to start on Cummings and send this off to your people across town. If I find anything, I’ll let you know.’
With that, she turned and left, Peralta and Font following her though the double-doors back into the reception area. Needing a moment to think, the Boston FBI pair found an empty space against the back wall.
‘Why would someone want to kill Cummings?’ Peralta asked. ‘A guard from a school who’d just stopped a mass shooting? Where’s the point in that?’
Font shrugged and didn’t reply. A few moments later Peralta’s phone rang and he answered, listening for a moment.
‘We’re on our way.’ He hung up, turning to Font. ‘That was the lab back at Hoover. They got into Somers’ computer.’
‘They find anything?’
‘He didn’t say. Wants us to come check it out. Maybe it’ll shed some light.’
They headed towards the exit.
‘There were other people in the class when Somers walked in,’ Peralta said. ‘The students. Now they’ve had time to get over the initial shock, they might be able to tell us something. Maybe Jeremy was going after a particular student?’
‘Except the note said this is for all of you,’ Font said, the pair walking through the main doors and turning right, headed for their car. ‘Anyway, they’ll still be in shock. Put yourself in their shoes. Sit down for the last class of the year and before you can even open a book one of your fellow students walks in with a handgun intending to shoot you. Don’t think any of them will be much use as witnesses for a while.’ They walked on in silence for a moment; then she looked at her partner. ‘I bet they’re all wishing they ditched class today.’
Peralta suddenly stopped in his tracks, just as they reached the car.
‘You got something?’ she asked.
Climbing in and shutting the door, he immediately dialled the Command Post, putting the phone on speaker.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s Peralta. Can you connect me to a Special Agent Devlin, D.C Field Office? He was working the Wilson High shooting. I don’t know which department.’
‘One moment.’
‘What did I say?’ Font asked as Peralta waited.
‘Devlin, it’s Peralta from Boston,’ he said, no time to respond to Font as the call connected. ‘My partner and I were at the school earlier.’
‘Yeah, I remember.’
‘You still at the scene?’
‘Afraid so.’
‘Can you check something for me?’
‘What do you need?’
‘Absentees on the attendance register. I’m not interested in who was there today.’
He looked at Font, who suddenly realised what she’d prompted.
‘I want to know if anyone wasn’t.’
Inside the van in Barry Farms, Archer kept his attention fixed on the street outside, the Molotov cocktail still burning but the road and sidewalks empty for now, the police having driven the gang away.
However, he could hear shouts and occasional gunshots not too far off.
Seeing Angela had just turned her I-Pad over again, the volume muted, Archer observed live pictures being relayed from the Minnesota and Benning intersection. Metro and the FBI would be scouring the immediate area, as would the guys hunting them. They’d all be very well aware Ledger and the people with him couldn’t have got far with the area so tightly contained, and that meant staying still was a dangerous strategy. They were running out of time and had to find a way out of here. Fast.
He pictured Shepherd and Marquez back in New York, waiting for a sit-rep; the FBI might even have been in contact with Shepherd if they’d figured out by now that Archer was helping Ledger. The urge to call them and let them know what was happening was strong, but he knew it was a non-starter. He had no doubt that the guys after them, NSA or otherwise, would have his phone number and voice print by now; the moment he made the call they’d be onto him and his location.
And then it would be a question of whether they could survive being found again.
The news reports had switched to the high school guard’s death. However, as the others watched, Archer noticed Angela suddenly reach over and turn up the volume on the scanner, a frown on her face.
‘I repeat, all personnel, be advised, ID of boy running with Harry Ledger is Jesse Mayer. Fourteen years old, Anacostia resident. Attends Wilson High, absent from the same class Jeremy Somers opened fire on. Possible accomplice to both Somers and Ledger. He may be armed.’
The words echoed around the quiet van, everyone’s attention suddenly switching from the I-Pad to the boy in the Redskins jersey.
He was looking at the floor, not meeting anyone’s gaze.
‘Hold on, you go to Wilson High?’ Ledger asked.
Jesse didn’t reply. Archer rewound the events of the evening in his head, thinking back a couple of hours to when the story of Cummings’ death at the press conference had broken and recalled Jesse’s reaction to the report.
Surprise, but something more.
‘I saw your face when the school shooting report first came up,’ he said. ‘You were out on the street all afternoon, so you had no idea it’d happened. It hit you hard. You were shocked when we told you Cummings had been shot.’
Jesse didn’t speak.
‘Did you know Jeremy Somers?’ Jack asked.
Jesse sighed. ‘Yeah. I knew him.’
‘How well?’
‘He was my best friend.’
The words hung in the air.
‘Were you meant to be in that class today?’ Angela asked.
He nodded.
‘Start talking, kid,’ Archer said. ‘Now.’
TWENTY SIX
Jesse remained silent, not meeting anyone’s gaze and looking extremely uncomfortable, clearly not enjoying suddenly being the centre of attention.
‘Your best friend is the kid who tried to shoot up a school three hours ago and you didn’t think it worth mentioning?’ Archer asked.
‘How long have you known him?’ Ledger
added before Jesse could answer.
After a pause, Jesse finally looked up.
‘Since I was six. People said me and him being friends was strange. He was always on a computer, I was always on the football field or in the principal’s office.’
‘So what drew you together?’ Angela asked.
‘We both grew up in social care; get moved around enough and you get to know other kids in the system. We lived with the same family for eight months before we were relocated, and got pretty close. He was always quiet; clever though. Way smarter than me. Other kids tried to pick on him and I’d get them to back off.’
‘Did you know what he was planning?’ Archer asked.
Jesse shook his head. ‘No. But he’d been acting all weird for the past couple days.’
‘How so?’
‘Two days back we had class in the afternoon; American history. Somers showed up late and he wasn’t acting right.’
‘What do you mean?’ Archer asked.
‘He seemed pissed off. That was unusual. He never got angry.’
‘Did you ask him what was up?’
‘Yeah, but he wouldn’t say. Normally we’d hang out afterwards, but the moment class ended he said he had to split and he’d catch me later.’
He paused.
‘Next day, he didn’t show up. I called but he didn’t want to talk. Just told me to check the news. I did and saw some guy in Boston got shot by the Charlestown Bridge. CNN gave out the names of each victim.’
He paused and swallowed.
‘Remember I said me and Somers lived with a family for eight months? The kid who got shot in Boston two days ago used to live there too. Tyron Scrace.’
Archer thought back and recalled seeing Scrace’s driving licence when he was with Shepherd and Marquez last night. A Maryland State ID, not New York State.
The kid was originally from the D.C. area.
It seemed Jesse was telling the truth.
‘He was four years older than us; awesome guy. Then I realised why Jeremy had been acting weird. Before he showed up to class, he must have seen or heard that Tyron got shot.’
‘How could he have known?’ Archer asked. ‘They’d only just released the names when you saw the news.’
‘He must have found out online somehow. I told you how much time he spent behind a computer. He was the best person I knew with those things. Anyone had a problem with their computer, they’d go to Somers.’
‘So what the hell happened today?’ Ledger asked.
‘I showed up to school this morning, but he wasn’t there. Then at lunchtime he texted me saying to check my emails. Apparently you’d been sighted going into the 7th Ward. Somers said he thought he knew where you were hiding. A book store in Buena Vista. He gave me the name.’
‘How the hell did he get that information?’ Ledger asked, surprised.
‘Ever heard of a group called Anonymous?’
Both Archer and Ledger nodded.
‘Somers told me all about them,’ Jesse explained. ‘They’re an online justice group. Load of computer whizzes and hackers who take the law into their own hands. They do everything from expose corruption to shutting down terrorist social media accounts and websites. They even tried to hunt down the Boston Bombers. Their emblem is a Guy Fawkes mask.’
He took Angela’s I-Pad and searched the name, turning it and showing a white mask with thin black trimmed beard, moustache and eyebrows, the mouth and eyes slanted in a smile.
‘Jeremy was really into this stuff. He must have seen reports of Tyron’s death and was determined to find you.’
‘A fourteen year old boy managed to track me down before the FBI?’
‘Somers wouldn’t have been working alone; he’d have had help from the group. At lunch he sent me that info about where he thought you might be, knowing I’d be as pissed about Tyron as he was. A bookstore. I decided to go check it out. Managed to get through all the cops and protestors, and was watching the back of the store.’ He looked at Ledger. ‘I was about to go in when I saw you running away down the street. I followed you.’ He turned to Archer. ‘I saw you follow him into the house.’
He paused and looked at Jack.
‘Then everything went to shit when those cops turned up. I see the news at your office, heard there was a shooting at Wilson. And my best friend was the kid who did it.’
‘Think he sent you that information to get you away from the school?’
‘Or to get revenge for Tyron.’
‘You had a gun,’ Archer said. ‘What were you going to do if you found Harry?’
Jesse went silent for a moment, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
‘I hadn’t worked that part out yet.’
‘You really had no idea what Jeremy was planning?’ Jack said.
‘No, man. No way. If I did, you think I wouldn’t have tried to stop him?’
‘You know what this looks like?’ Angela said. ‘He takes a gun to school to light up your class and you’re conveniently not there. Now you’re reported as being on the run with Ledger? No wonder the Bureau are looking for you.’
‘But why would Somers want to do something like that?’ Archer asked. ‘How can shooting up his class help with locating Scrace’s murderer? This doesn’t make any kind of sense.’
‘I don’t know. Ever since you told me, I’ve been trying to figure it out.’
‘Was he being bullied?’ Ledger asked.
‘I made sure he wasn’t.’
‘Feud with anyone in class?’
‘No.’
‘Teacher?’ Archer said.
Jesse shook his head.
‘What about the guard?’
Jesse shook his head. ‘Guy was a loser but he and Jeremy never had any beef.’
‘So what the hell suddenly possessed him to try and shoot those people?’
‘No idea, man.’
Five floors below Sorenson’s Command Post, Peralta and Font had just arrived at the FBI lab in the bowels of the Hoover Building, buzzed through by the tech who’d called them.
‘Tell me you got something,’ Peralta said, walking with the man into the lab. ‘This case is getting stranger by the minute.’
‘Take a look,’ the technician said, sitting at a desk, Somers’s computer connected and running.
Typing on his keyboard, they all looked at the screen.
‘Articles on school shootings, depression and the links with fame,’ the tech said. ‘His search history is littered with this stuff. Wikipedia, blog posts, fan sites for perpetrators of past shooting events. Columbine, Aurora, Sandy Hook, the Charleston Church. He was searching information on D.C. gun ranges too.’
Peralta frowned. ‘Why?’
The tech shrugged. ‘Get used to firing a weapon maybe? Though he’d need an adult to take him. Must have got his hands on his foster mother’s pistol and decided not to wait.’
‘Perpetrators who go on murderous sprees in schools and other public settings share a severe lack or lapse of empathy coupled with an inability to control aggression,’ Peralta read. ‘This may be due to a number of reasons.’
He read on, Font silent beside him.
‘Psychopathic symptoms, a loss of sense of reality, a consequence of significant violent traumatization such as that of early physical abuse, that contributes to development of such a state of mind.’
‘When was the earliest search?’ Font asked when he’d finished. ‘How long had he been thinking about this?’
‘Forty eight hours. But don’t read too much into that. It’s easy to erase searches from your history and even though we can usually find stuff even when people think they’ve deleted it, a kid this hot with computers could probably hide it. He must have either forgotten this morning or didn’t care.’
‘What else?’
‘First thing we did was check social media accounts. The computer was still logged into Facebook and Twitter. Looks like the kid was a member of that online justice group Anonymous. You asked ab
out his friend, right?’
‘Jesse Mayer,’ Font said.
‘He emailed him around noon.’
‘With what?’
‘Up-to-date reports on our manhunt. They were right on the money too. The details of that bookstore in Buena Vista HRT found shot to shreds was where Ledger had that stash box.’
‘How the hell did he figure that out?’
‘Somers broke into Ledger’s VA file. He’s on record there as helping out a friend restore a bookstore as part of his therapy. It’s the only real link he had to any neighbourhood in Ward 7. We know now he was going for that hidden cache of supplies, food and water, but Somers must have seen the update that Ledger had been seen entering the area and figured that was where he could be going. This was a big lead if the FBI had got to it first and not a fourteen year old kid.’
‘We checked the VA files and I never saw this,’ Peralta said, looking at Font. ‘Did you?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘You’d better explain yourself to Sorenson. He wants you both upstairs immediately. He’s pissed.’
‘So this boy managed to guess where Harry Ledger was hiding?’ Peralta said.
The tech nodded. ‘If he hadn’t been killed, we could have hired him in a few years’ time.’
‘So why did he send the information to Jesse Mayer?’ Font asked. ‘Think he’s an accomplice? Helped him plan the shooting?’
The tech shrugged. ‘You tell me.’
‘Anyone know where on earth Jesse Mayer is?’
‘The team upstairs haven’t been keeping you posted, have they?’
‘What are you talking about?’ Peralta asked.
‘He’s running around the 7th with Harry Ledger.’
‘But why would a boy with no history of any violent behaviour walk into a school with a loaded handgun to kill people?’ Angela said, still dwelling on the school shooting. ‘And why today?’
No-one replied. She looked over at Archer, who although listening was keeping his attention on the street.
‘What do you think?’
‘Profiling these kinds of cases is a bitch,’ he said, turning his head briefly to look at the others. ‘We’ve dealt with active shooter threats in the Counter-Terrorism Bureau and our people have studied some case profiles. School shootings were one of them. Some perpetrators are from perfectly normal households; others grow up like Jeremy, in care or fostered, so no indication there.’ He glanced at Jesse. ‘But Jeremy was intelligent, right?’