Winter Black Box Set 2

by Mary Stone

  Her smile was more pronounced, but he didn’t miss the mischievous glint in her eyes. “I didn’t know that. That’s pretty cool, though. Between that and your hair, it seems like you’ve got this sharp dressed thing down pretty well.”

  “I can’t tell if you’re teasing me or giving me a compliment.”

  “Might be a little bit of both.” She gave him an uncharacteristic wink. “All right, enough fashion talk. Did you find anything about Ormund?”

  Right. Ben fucking Ormund.

  He barely suppressed a groan. “Yeah, I did. Got an address for the ex-wife, so I’ll tell you the rest on our way to her.”

  She headed for the door. “Sounds like a plan.”

  On the short drive to Linda Cahill, formerly Ormund, he ran through all the information he’d unearthed on the sexual assault allegation from twenty years earlier.

  The victim, a woman named Paula Detrick, had been a client at the counseling practice that employed Ormund. According to police records, during one of their sessions, Ormund had drugged and assaulted her and then tried to convince her the entire experience had not really occurred.

  Like the case of Anne Timson, there hadn’t been enough evidence for the police to pursue formal criminal charges against Ormund. However, there had been enough for the state to revoke his license to practice.

  From there, the details became fuzzier, but in the long run, the black mark had been all but erased from Ormund’s record. He went on to teach psychology at Christopher Newport University until he was shot and killed the night before.

  By the time Noah rapped his knuckles against a wooden door, any semblance of amusement or flirtation had been thoroughly squashed. The portal opened a crack at first, and then wider after he and Winter flashed their badges at the teenage girl.

  “I’m Agent Dalton, this is Agent Black. We’re with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We’re here to talk to Linda Cahill. Is she home?”

  In response, the girl nodded.

  “Can we talk to her?” Winter pressed.

  “Hold on,” the girl replied as she turned her head. “Mom,” she called. “It’s for you. It’s the FBI.”

  “The what?” a woman exclaimed from the background. “Lucy, if you’re screwing with me right now.” The voice grew louder as the orator neared.

  “No,” Lucy chuckled. “Definitely not screwing with you, Mom.”

  “I’m Linda Cahill,” the woman said, resting a protective hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Her pale blue eyes flicked back and forth between him and Winter, but her expression was unreadable. “How can I help you, agents?”

  “We’ve got some questions about your ex-husband,” Winter said. “Do you mind if we come in? Honestly, I’ve been out in this hundred-degree nonsense all day, and I’d really appreciate a break.”

  Lips pursed, Linda nodded as she and her daughter stepped aside. “Come on in. We can chat in the living room. Can I get either of you anything to drink?”

  “You should take her up on that,” Lucy said from the foot of a stairwell. “Mom’s lemonade is the shit. And she just made some.”

  “Thanks, Lucy,” Linda returned. As she waved a dismissive hand, her daughter grinned and made her way up the steps. “But yes, agents. If you’d like some lemonade, I’d be happy to share. Why don’t we just head to the kitchen and talk in there.”

  “Kitchen’s my favorite room in the house,” Noah replied with a grin.

  “Smart man,” Linda commented, waving an appreciative finger.

  “This is a nice place,” Winter said as they followed Linda into the sun-drenched kitchen. “Is it just you and your daughter here?”

  “It sure is,” their hostess replied. “Been that way for about ten years now. I guess marriage just isn’t really my strong suit. Married and divorced three times.” She set a couple glasses atop the granite counter and brushed a piece of golden hair from her face.

  “So,” she said as she pried open the stainless-steel refrigerator door. “What’d that shithead do now?”

  “What?” Noah and Winter replied at the same time.

  “I’m assuming that’s why you’re here,” she answered, shrugging as she filled each glass from a plastic pitcher.

  “You mean Ben Ormund, right?” Noah managed to ask.

  “I do.” Linda nodded. “What’d that prick do now?”

  “No love lost there, huh?” Winter remarked as she took a sip from her glass. “Wow, your daughter wasn’t kidding. This lemonade is amazing.”

  Mid-drink, Noah nodded his agreement. There was a balance between sweet and sour that he didn’t realize could even be achieved with regular lemonade.

  “Thanks. It’s my mother’s recipe. The trick is to make it with simple syrup instead of just sugar. You can put strawberries in the syrup, or raspberries, blueberries, whatever you feel like.” Leaning against the counter, Linda crossed her arms. “And no, there’s definitely no love lost between me and that asshole.”

  “Has he bothered you since you’ve been divorced?” Winter asked.

  “Really?” Linda gawked. “You really don’t know? Are you sure you’re FBI?”

  Noah drew his brows together. “Know what?”

  “Three different times.” She held up three fingers for emphasis. “Three damn times I tried to file a restraining order on that son of a bitch. Not for me, but for Lucy. That bastard is convinced that Lucy is his. He’s got a Ph.D., but apparently, they didn’t have any mathematic requirements for him to get that degree, because he can’t figure out that there’s no possible way she’s his!”

  Linda threw up her hands, a flush pinkening her pretty face.

  “And considering it’s my body, I’d say I’m the expert on the topic, right? But, oh, no.” She laughed, a bitter sound. “Not to Ormund. He’s been trying for the past two years to get a DNA test. And if I wasn’t privileged enough to make the kind of money I do, the financial burden alone would’ve been enough to make me snap. I don’t want my daughter to have to deal with that shit. I tried shielding her from it, but eventually, I had to tell her.”

  “Tell her what?” Winter asked.

  “Tell her that some crazy dipshit thinks she’s his!” Linda closed her eyes and raised both hands to massage her temples. “She knows all about it now, and her father’s known since it started. Even he agrees with me that Ormund’s a damn nutcase.”

  He and Winter exchanged looks of blatant confusion before either of them dared to speak again.

  How in the hell had none of this shown up in the state or federal databases? How had none of the sheriff’s deputies known about Ben Ormund’s harassment of his ex-wife? Were they even at the right house? Was there a different Ben Ormund and Linda Cahill in Newport News?

  “Ms. Cahill,” Winter said, her tone as careful and measured as Noah had ever heard. “Where were you last night between eight and ten?”

  “Last night? It’s the last week before school starts, so I took a few days off to spend with Lucy. We went to a movie last night, and we didn’t get home until around eleven. It was a long one, the new Tarantino movie.”

  If awards existed for “coolest mom,” Noah thought that Linda Cahill would be a fierce competitor.

  “Why? Wait, if you’re not here because of all his court-ordered DNA test bullshit, and you’re not here about the restraining orders I’ve tried and failed to get, then what’s going on?”

  “Ben Ormund is dead,” Noah said, ripping the bandage off quickly. “He was shot and killed last night.”

  That seemed to take a little heat from Linda’s sails, but only for a second. The moment the surprised had passed, Linda smiled. “Well, I’ll be honest, agents. I didn’t kill him, but I’m sure as hell not sad he’s gone.”

  “Were you ever in the military, Ms. Cahill?” he pressed.

  “No.”

  “Law enforcement?”

  “No. I’m a real estate lawyer. So, unless that counts, then no.”

  “Are you familiar with
a Barrett M98B?” He already knew the answer, but he felt obligated to ask.

  “No. Look, do I need my lawyer?” She raised an eyebrow as her expression turned skeptical.

  “No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “But would you mind telling us what you know about Paula Detrick? If that name’s familiar, I mean.”

  At the mention of the young woman, the sass on Linda’s unlined face was abruptly overshadowed by a dark cloud. “What? Is someone finally going to actually investigate that poor girl’s disappearance?”

  “What do you mean, disappearance?” Winter prodded.

  “Exactly what it sounds like. My shithead ex-husband assaulted that poor girl, and then she went missing. Everyone said she moved to the West Coast, but hell if I know where they got that idea from.”

  “You and Ben were married at the time, weren’t you?” Winter asked. “Paula made the report twenty years ago, and you and Ben’s divorce wasn’t final until three years after that.”

  Whatever melancholy had come over her was pushed aside by the glint of malevolence in her pale eyes. “I’ll tell you what I tell everyone else who says that same thing to me. Yeah, I was married to him for three years after it happened. And yeah, I was perfectly aware of what had happened. But you know what? At the time, I was trying to raise my son from my previous marriage, and I was trying to go to law school. I didn’t have any money of my own. I didn’t have any family, and all my friends were his friends. I was completely dependent on Ben. I didn’t have job experience. I didn’t have anything.”

  Noah was tempted to jump in and ask questions but decided to let the woman rant.

  And rant she did. “But even if I’d had the means, I don’t think either of you understand exactly how terrifying that situation is to a young woman. He’d raped and murdered a perfect stranger, so what in the hell would he do to me? Or my son? There’s not a doubt in my mind that if I hadn’t approached the end of that relationship exactly like I did, if I hadn’t bided my time and waited until I had my JD, that I wouldn’t be here right now.”

  “You were afraid.”

  Linda’s snort was answer enough. She waved a hand. “And this, you coming here, investigating Ben’s death, that’s just great. You know, I thought about practicing criminal law, but I’m glad I stuck to the boring real estate. Because I don’t think I’d be able to handle dealing with shit like this on a daily basis. Like I said, I didn’t kill him. But if you find whoever did…” she pushed to her feet, “tell them I said thanks.”

  18

  Just as soon as Cassidy had taken a seat behind her desk, the retort of knuckles against the metal doorframe sounded out. She bit back a sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

  “It’s unlocked. Come in,” she announced.

  As Max Osbourne stepped into the room, Cassidy could swear the temperature dropped by at least five degrees.

  His slate gray eyes were alight with suspicion and ire, but as the door latched behind him, he still didn’t speak. Cassidy had worked with the man for close to three decades, and she knew that look.

  She had seen that glint of righteous indignation before. The storm that brewed behind that glint could sink ships and reduce entire cities to rubble. Tightening her grip on a ballpoint pen, Cassidy scooted forward in her seat to brace herself for the category five shitstorm coming in her direction.

  Her decision to leave Max out of the initial discussion about the possibility of Agent Sun Ming as their prime suspect had been purposeful.

  It would have made sense to include Ming’s boss in the dialogue, but the group in the Violent Crimes Division was tight-knit. Max was protective of the agents under his command, and while the quality was admirable, Cassidy suspected his loyalty would only hinder a thorough review of Ming’s activity in recent months.

  To be sure, she hadn’t intended to keep the news from him for long, and his presence in her office this afternoon was more or less expected.

  “Have a seat, SAC Osbourne,” she said after a prolonged silence.

  Crossing both arms over his black suit jacket, the SAC shook his head. “I’ve been sitting all day. I’m fine.”

  Cassidy bit back a sigh as she nodded. “Understood. What can I help you with, Osbourne?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re smart, Ramirez. I’m sure you already know why I’m here.”

  “You’re here about Agent Ming.” Cassidy twirled the pen between her fingers.

  More than almost anyone else in the entire Richmond FBI office, she respected Max Osbourne. She knew he could have ascended to the Associate Deputy Director spot, but the position had never been his goal. He had a knack for bringing out the best in the agents under his tutelage, and that was where he had decided to stay.

  But as shady as Cassidy felt for keeping such a volatile piece of information from him, she knew she had done what was best for the bureau, and for the victims.

  The victims.

  Two rapists and a mass murderer.

  She pushed the thought to the back of her mind as she met SAC Osbourne’s intense stare. No matter their crimes, the three men had all been murdered, and the FBI had a duty to investigate their deaths.

  “I’m here about Agent Ming,” Max said when she didn’t elaborate. “And I’m curious why I’m just now learning about this when it seems like the inquiry into her has been ongoing for at least a couple days.”

  “No one other than an internal investigator and I knew about it until this morning. I needed to look over everything before I could make a decision to establish Agent Ming as a suspect. I’ve looked it over, and I’ve made my decision.”

  “Yeah? When did you plan to tell her about it?” Max shot back.

  “Soon, but we need to finish gathering and processing evidence from the newest crime scene. Until then, I expect you’ll keep this to yourself.”

  Cassidy’s tone didn’t so much as falter. High stress conversations weren’t new territory for her, and she’d learned long ago that any display of weakness during a tense dialogue was like the scent of blood to a shark.

  “You know I will. But I’d like to know, do you have any hard evidence, or is it just a pile of circumstantial bullshit?”

  She clenched her jaw before she replied. “We’re looking for someone with a very specific set of skills. Someone who’s familiar enough with crime scene investigation to ensure nothing’s left behind, and I mean nothing. And on top of that, we’re looking for someone who can hit a target between the eyes from almost a mile away.”

  The muscles in Max’s jaw popped, and she knew he knew what she was going to say next.

  “Aside from the tactical team, all of whom have alibis for at least one of the murders, there are only four people in this entire office that are capable of making a shot like that. Three of them also have alibis. Agent Ming is the only one without an alibi for any of the deaths. She was in Norfolk yesterday, and the victim killed that night was in Newport News.”

  “She was there with Agent Brandt,” Max returned. “And they left together.”

  “Only after they went to the local PD to talk to them about Anne Timson’s case.”

  “That’s what they should have done.”

  “You’re right. But based on what I’ve heard from the Norfolk PD, Agent Ming took a particular interest in the case. She was overly critical, and one of the detectives said that her attitude bordered on outright hostile.”

  “She should have been,” Max spat. “Have you seen the Timson case, Ramirez? Have you seen the detectives’ notes from when they took her statement?”

  He paused as if he expected her to respond, but he went on before she could speak.

  “Anne Timson was sexually assaulted and escaped from a lunatic who went on to kill God only knows how many more women, and when she reported her assault to the Norfolk PD, they all but laughed her out of their office. Drunk college girl, probably hooked up with an older guy and regretted it later. I think that’s almost verbatim what their notes said.”


  Cassidy nodded. He wasn’t wrong.

  “They didn’t take any of what she said seriously until another girl disappeared a few months later. But by then, Anne was across the country in boot camp for the Navy. I know your values well enough to know you don’t buy into that kind of victim blaming bullshit. Nobody in this office buys into that shit, especially not Agent Ming. I think that’s pretty plain to see given her work so far to investigate the person who killed these three sorry excuses for human beings.”

  “That isn’t our job to—”

  The SAC held up a hand, his face growing redder. “Because if there are any victims that deserve to be blamed for what happened to them, they’re Tyler Haldane, Ben Ormund, and Mitch Stockley. Agent Ming took a bullet for this office, and if she hadn’t been there to make that shot and take out Kent Strickland, a hell of a lot more people would’ve died.”

  “I know what Agent Ming did,” Cassidy said with a stiff nod. “And she was highly commended for it. But a traumatic event like that can bring out a different side to a person. I’ve seen it happen before, and I know you have too. Sun has gone off on her own before. During the Presley investigation, she kept a key piece of information to herself so she could be the one to close the case. We have to look at the context here, Max. We’re not throwing her in a prison cell yet, all right? She’s a suspect, not a defendant.”

  The seconds ticked away as Max kept his glare locked on hers, but Cassidy didn’t balk. She had no idea how long they stared one another down, but she suspected close to a minute had passed by the time he finally spoke.

  “Fine,” he grated. “Keep me updated and let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. And I will help because I know that Agent Ming didn’t do any of this.”

  19

  The recollection was so vivid that Sun could smell the faint aroma of fried food and cookies as it wafted over from the nearby food court. She’d never set foot into the Riverside Mall before that day, but whenever her sleeping brain took her back to that night, she felt like she had returned home.