by Blake Pierce
When Mark Fairchild entered the shot from the left, he wore only a pair of boxer shorts. When the woman on the bed leaned over, grabbed them and started yanking them down seductively, Chloe could finally see the woman’s face. It was most definitely not Jessie.
“I wonder if it’s one of those expensive escorts,” Rhodes commented.
Chloe stopped the video and took out the USB. She had no intention of finding out who the woman was. Idly, she wondered if the huge amount of cash in the hidden drawer was to pay for those escorts.
“I’ve seen enough,” Chloe said. “You good here, Rhodes?”
“Yeah. I think we’ve got enough. Nothing left to do but wait for the bigger cogs in DC to do their thing.”
They left Mark’s office, closing and locking the door behind them. They made their way back down the dimly lit hallway and as they reached the elevators, Chloe couldn’t help but feel that the case was coming to a close. Surely the suspicious phone numbers would lead to something. And she was growing more and more certain that something would be the revelation that Mark Fairchild killed his wife.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
When Chloe arrived in her apartment at 11:17 that night, she stood in the doorway for a moment and looked at the remaining mess left over from Danielle’s break-in. She had fully intended to call her sister today but the case had started to move a bit and she’d simply forgotten. She considered calling anyway, despite the late hour, but figured it could wait. Besides…she’d see Danielle soon enough; she fully intended to take her up on her offer to clean the place up.
She walked into the apartment and didn’t even bother pretending she was going to do anything other than grab a quick shower and go to bed. She didn’t go by the fridge for a snack or a glass of wine, nor did she even think about turning on the television. She started stripping down before she even reached her bedroom and was shower-ready before turning on the water.
As she soaked, she again wondered how she could have let her own emotional hell so easily blind her to the facts of the case. More than that, if her feelings toward her father had changed so drastically, why was she still leaning toward sympathy with men like Mark Fairchild when all clues pointed to his guilt?
Maybe she’d end up taking Dr. Fischer up on another session after all. If she was going to truly move on from her past, vulnerability and therapy were things she was going to have to strongly consider.
She got out, dried off, and was in bed by midnight. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep, but when she did, she found her thoughts turning toward a smaller part of the case—a part that had nearly gone overlooked: the ring that had been used to gruesomely tear into Jessie Fairchild’s neck.
She still couldn’t help but feel that someone was making some sort of statement, but she wasn’t sure what that statement was.
It was the last thread that wound through her head as she drifted off to sleep.
***
Later, she was stirred awake, not by the alarm on her phone, but the sound of it ringing. She slapped at the bedside table for it while glaring at the clock. She winced when she saw that it was only 4:48 in the morning. She picked up the phone, clicked on her bedside lamp, and saw Rhodes’s name and number on the call display.
“Rhodes. It’s early. I hope this means there’s news.”
“There is. Kim Moxley was true to her word and called when there was news. And holy shit, is there news.”
“Where are you?”
“On the way to your apartment. How soon can you get ready?”
“Very fast. Fill me in, would you?”
Chloe put the phone on speaker and got out of bed, suddenly very much awake.
“Well, the unknown number ended up being tacked on a guy that had been accused of criminal financial practices a few years back, but he got off clean. Mitchell Beck. That name ring a bell by any chance?”
“None.”
“It meant nothing to me, either. Anyway, Beck used to work for one of those places that deals in hedge funds. A few brains at headquarters put the filter of Beck’s old case over what we’ve got going on with Mark Fairchild and it all looked very similar. So they did some digging and after just a few calls and a quick visit by a field agent in our New York office, we’re now pretty much able to confirm that Mark was laundering money from Collins Holdings into a hedge fund that he had set up in secret some time ago. And Mitchell Beck was at the center of it all.”
“So that’s more than enough to arrest.” She was slipping into a pair of pants now. All she had left to do was make sure her hair wasn’t a hot mess before heading out the door.
“It is…but it gets better. The name Julio Alejos—the name Moxley got for us last night—is also closely tied to our criminal friend Mitchell Beck. He’s been on the watch list up in New York for the last three or four years under suspicion of being the heart and soul of a major drug cartel. The New York field agent and some boys from the NYPD paid him a visit about two hours ago. To save his own ass, he started naming names. Most of it was dealing with the drug cartel, so he was surprised when the agent mentioned Mark Fairchild’s name. He confirmed that he had been in talks with Mark Fairchild recently, but would not say why they were speaking. Because of that, he’s currently being held in custody.”
“This is all red-handed type stuff,” Chloe said as she holstered her Glock and strapped the holster onto her belt. “But what the hell does it have to do with Jessie’s death?”
“That picture still isn’t clear. But we’ve got money laundering and involvement with a man who’s highly suspected of being the center of a huge drug cartel. Adding murder of a spouse in there doesn’t seem too far of a stretch.”
“Not a stretch at all,” Chloe agreed.
“Now…I’m about a block away from your place. You ready to go pay Mark a visit?”
***
They’d called ahead to the Falls Church PD as a courtesy and for request with an assist. So when Chloe drove into the main stretch of Mark Fairchild’s neighborhood, she wasn’t surprised by the sight of the two patrol cars parked at the end of Mark’s block. It was 5:37 when she pulled their car into the Fairchilds’ driveway, a little less than fifty minutes after Rhodes had woken her up with the call.
There were no flashing lights, no sirens. As Chloe and Rhodes stepped out of their car, Deputy Nolan pulled in behind them. The three of them were as quiet as possible as they gathered together in front of the Fairchild steps—the very same steps Mark had stood on top of to let the media know that he planned to donate all of the money from his wife’s life insurance policy. They gave one another a brief glance, making sure everyone was ready to roll in. Chloe took the lead, with Rhodes behind her and Nolan bringing up the rear.
Chloe knocked on the door. It sounded loud in the otherwise quiet of the neighborhood. She assumed that pretty close to now all of the younger, fit types would be spotted on the sidewalks, getting in their morning runs. Others would be walking their dogs. But for now, just as the sun started to tease them with dawn, the neighborhood was absolutely silent and still.
When there was no answer after thirty seconds, Chloe knocked again. This time, a few seconds after the knock, a light came on in the house. She could just barely see the glow of it through the window several feet away from the door. A few seconds later, they heard shuffling footsteps approaching the door.
“Who’s there?” Mark Fairchild asked from the other side of the door.
“It’s Agents Fine and Rhodes,” Chloe said. “Deputy Nolan is with us, too.”
The sound of the door unlocking could be heard at once. Mark didn’t bother with just cracking the door to peer out; he opened it all the way. He was looking at them with muted hope. He was still struggling to come fully awake, but he seemed almost happy to see them.
“Did you find something?” he asked.
“We did,” Chloe said. “Mr. Fairchild, can we come in?”
He hesitated here but nodded slowly. He stepped to the side an
d let the two agents and Deputy Nolan into his home. He led them into the living room, where Chloe saw evidence that he had been sleeping on the couch. A pillow and two scattered blankets were on the couch, his cell phone sitting on the coffee table.
Mark saw her checking the couch out and chuckled nervously. “I can’t bring myself to go into the bedroom yet…let alone sleep in it.”
Chloe ignored this pity play and went straight to the point of the matter. “Mr. Fairchild, we found your burner phone. Bottom drawer of your office desk, in that little cut-away compartment.”
Mark’s face went absolutely blank at this comment. He looked at each of them, one after the other as if his neck was on a timed spring. “That’s…that’s trespassing. That phone is company property and—”
“Why hide company property?” Rhodes asked.
“Was the hidden USB with the video on it company property as well?” Chloe asked.
At this, Mark looked like she had reached out and slapped him. His face was taking on a huge range of emotions. It was a look Chloe had seen hundreds of times before—the look of a man who was watching his elaborate story crumble…his entire world shaking under his feet. His mouth opened as if he had something to say, but no words came out.
“Julio Alejos has confirmed that he knows you and has been speaking with you,” Chloe said. “That alone is bad enough but just tonight, the FBI discovered a link between Alejos and a man named Mitchell Beck. But I feel like you already know about that link because they’ve somehow had a hand in your money laundering, haven’t they?”
“Julio was a mistake,” he said. “I know that now. I know…shit.” He sat down hard on the couch. His hands were trembling and he suddenly seemed to find the floor very interesting.
“How does it all tie to Jessie?” Rhodes asked.
Mark looked up at them again, shaking his head. “I swear to you. I swear to you on my life that I did not kill my wife.”
“Discoveries we’ve made in the past several hours make me not so prone to believe you,” Chloe said.
“People saw me at work. I have alibis. I can’t be two places at once!”
“Then who did you hire?” Chloe asked. “Was it Alejos? Maybe one of his people?”
“No! With all due respect, you’re fucking crazy if you think I killed my wife. The whole reason I was doing this shit…this laundering and working with Julio Alejos…it was to make sure we were taken care of. I had pissed away so much money, and Jessie was so used to spending it. I had to make sure we were covered. I wanted the best for her so why the hell would I kill her?”
He was nearly screaming when he came to the end of it. Tears ran down his face and now when he looked at them, he looked more like a kid who had gotten in trouble with some bad kids at school and was waiting for someone to forgive him for his deeds or to bail him out.
“When you initially spoke with Beck at Collins Holding, did you know they were a front? Did you know from the start that the company was a front for the cartel that Julio Alejos is thought to be the leader of?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get that information?” Nolan asked.
“I can’t say. It’s too dangerous. I can’t…”
“Julio Alejos has already started naming people just to save his own skin,” Rhodes said. “The last I heard about an hour ago, four arrests have already been made. People like that…there’s not much honesty or loyalty among them.”
“There are too many people involved,” Mark said. “I can’t risk it.”
“It really doesn’t matter,” Chloe said. She reached under her jacket and withdrew her cuffs. When Mark saw them, he only frowned. He had resigned himself to this in the few moments between the first mention of Julio Alejos and Mitchell Beck and now.
“I don’t know what happened,” he said. “I didn’t kill her. I swear it.”
“All the same,” Chloe said. “Mark Fairchild, you’re under arrest for money laundering, investment fraud, possibly life insurance conspiracy, and speculation of, at the very least, serving as an accomplice in the murder of your wife.”
Mark shook his head the whole time, but he stood up and allowed easy access to his wrists. He did not fight when she cuffed him, nor when she led him out of the house. The only thing he said was to Deputy Nolan as he passed by on the porch, on the way to the cars below.
“I suggest you and the entire PD lawyer the fuck up. I intend to make this entire thing hell for you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Chloe and Rhodes sat at the conference room table in the back of the Falls Church PD, sipping coffee and staying updated on the events following the arrest of Mark Fairchild. The updates came in the form of phone calls from Kim Moxley and the small team that had connected the dots the night before. They also came from visits from Nolan, coming by the room while he fielded calls from media, lawyers, and partners with the state police.
So far, the only real news was that every single bit of Mark’s assets had been seized within three hours of his arrest. His bank accounts had been frozen, Jessie’s life insurance policy had been temporarily suspended, and the hedge fund that he had been trying to hide was being dissolved. Whether or not he knew any of this, Chloe did not know; as far as she knew, Mark was being prepped for a trip to DC. She wasn’t sure if he’d ride along with her and Rhodes or not. No, he’d be escorted in a black sedan with tinted windows and interrogated for days about his involvement with Julio Alejos and Mitchell Beck.
Chloe was on her second cup of coffee when the uneasiness in her stomach became something more akin to a hunch. She’d felt an inkling of it the day before when she and Rhodes had argued about Mark’s guilt. It was back now, almost in an I-told-you-so sort of way.
“You look troubled,” Rhodes said from her side of the table.
“I am. Yeah, we nailed Mark Fairchild on a variety of financial crimes and might have even been able to use his money laundering scheme to expose Beck and Alejos, but it still doesn’t tie him to his wife’s murder.”
“There are so many shady characters involved in this thing now that the list of potential killers is almost too long, though,” Rhodes said.
“You think Mark hired someone?” Chloe asked.
“I don’t know. If those tears and frustration he showed last night were fake, the man is a damned good actor. I think he was…I don’t know…”
“Scared. I think that’s the word you’re looking for.”
Rhodes nodded right at the same time Chloe’s phone started to ring. She saw Johnson’s name in the ID screen and answered it right away.
“You and Rhodes have started a pretty big domino effect,” Johnsons said, skipping a greeting entirely. “At this very moment, one Julio Alejos is being transported to Washington, DC, on a string of charges related to the financial mess Mark Fairchild was involved in. We’ve been trying to nail him on anything for the last three years and this case you guys cracked is the cause of it.”
“But the case isn’t cracked,” Chloe said. “We still don’t have an ID on Jessie Fairchild’s killer.”
“Not yet. But I guarantee you it will come up in these interrogations. Probably not Alejos—he’s too seasoned. But probably one of the guys he’s rolling over on. Trust me, Chloe. I’ve seen this kind of thing before. The case, as far as you and Rhodes are concerned, is about as closed as it’s going to get. Someone will either fess up or rat someone else out before too long.”
“All the same, I’d like to stay on the case for another day or so.”
“On what grounds?”
“Well, we found the phone that led to this so-called domino effect in his office—a place he spent most of his time. I’d like to go back and speak to some of his co-workers.”
“The local PD down there already did that.”
“Yes sir. But I haven’t.”
She heard Johnson stifling a laugh. He appreciated a bit of cockiness but never came out and said such. “If you must, Fine. One more day. That’s it.
I’d actually like you and Rhodes down here to question Julio Alejos. Maybe you can be the one to get something out of him. You might be able to find out who the killer is from a man that was in New York when it happened.”
“Any idea when he’s due at headquarters?”
“Looking at around two or so this afternoon, I think.”
“We’ll see you then.”
She ended the call and found Rhodes looking at her. She sipped from her coffee thoughtfully. “Did you just turn down an invite to come in for the day and call this case closed?”
“I did. I’m sorry. But the more I think about it…someone had to have sensed something those last few days before she was killed. Maybe someone at Mark’s office noticed him being off somehow.”
“It feels like a stretch to me.”
“It might be. But we came here to solve a murder and I’d really like to make sure that’s done…or, at least, make sure I’ve done my very best.”
“Yeah, yeah, let’s go then,” Rhodes said.
She was clearly not a fan of the idea but was already getting to her feet. It wasn’t nearly as bad as yesterday’s irritation, which Chloe considered a win. Slowly, they were starting to learn to work well together. And as this case came to an end that might turn out to be nothing more than one big question mark, they were both starting to feel the incomplete nature of it.