"I'll drop you off, and you meet me at the Bombay Bicycle Club. We'll call it a draw this time, okay?"
Eli sighed and leaned back in the seat, shutting his eyes.
"What I'll do for a beer," he said in a stage whisper.
Eli rolled over in bed and slapped twice at the nightstand before finding the beeping cell phone. "Agent Tanner," he said, closing his eyes again.
"Tanner, it's me, Sutton. We've got another one."
"What time is it?" he asked, opening his eyes again.
"Another what?"
"Wake up, Tanner. It's almost three A. M. A detective from the Columbus Police Department called me just minutes ago.
The detective heard about our homicide on post and told me he was called to a house where an apparent suicide had taken place. Tanner, the victim had a gold chain in his mouth . . . the chain held a cross. The victim is Glenn Hoffman. . . . Did you hear me? Glenn Hoffman, the sergeant major's buddy."
Eli sat up. "Where's the body?"
"I'm on the way to pick you up. The detective is waiting at the scene and has already called GBI. I'll be at the house in five minutes."
"I'll be ready and standing out front."
Chapter 10.
Eli bent over and shined the flashlight on the dead man's face. The victim was black.
Ashley leaned over. "It's the same type of gold chain, isn't it?"
Eli straightened up. "Yep, and same style cross."
A Columbus Police Department detective stood beside them and motioned to the body. "I gotta tell ya, if I hadn't read the National Crime Information Center's computer bulletin, I would have called it a suicide. The gold chain is what tipped us. The difference in M. O. is the weapon. This victim used a .22 on himself. I-talian job, semi auto, and expensive. We ran a check, and Hoffman didn't have the weapon registered and the wife says he didn't own a pistol. I pulled back the victim's shirt-taser marks on his chest. The killer must have kept the juice on him pretty high to keep him subdued. Those things can kill ya if ya use too much of an electrical charge."
Having seen enough, Eli panned his light to the small house twenty yards away. "Family find him?"
"Daughter did. She and Hoffman's wife live in the house.
Daughter said her dad played cards on Sunday nights with friends down the street. He's off work on Mondays. When he wasn't home by one, she got worried. She called the friend's house and the man said Hoffman had left an hour earlier. She didn't wake her mom, just went out to look for him along with the friend. They found him here about one-thirty."
Headlights from an approaching car briefly bathed the crime scene in a golden glow then went out. A short man stepped out of the car, Ed Faraday, the GBI detective Tanner had met the day before. Detective Faraday shut his door and shook his head. "Agent Tanner, looks like you've got yourself a serial killer."
Eli stepped closer. "Two homicides in two days with the same M. O. makes it appear so, Ed, but it's not a serial killer.
Yesterday's victim and this one served together in Vietnam.
We've got something else on our hands."
The detective shook his head again. "Well, whatever it is, you've got three homicides now. I got a call ten minutes ago on the way here. Seems the Fort Smith, Arkansas, Police Department read the bulletin we sent over the NCIC. They had a similar death three days ago, gold chain in the mouth. It was ruled suicide and of course wasn't entered on the NCIC. They hadn't buried the victim yet, and checked his body. They found taser marks. Like I said, three homicides. Your killer is gettin' around."
Eli turned to Ashley. "Better call the SAC and let him know.
He'll want to declare an alert and bring in a behavioral scientist from Quantico. I'll call the Fort Smith police and get the facts?'
The detective stepped back to his car and opened the door.
"I called them from my phone while I was drivin'. I got some notes for ya. Their victim was a white male, fifty-four years of age. Retired from the Army as a sergeant major after twenty-eight years and worked for a trailer company as a--"
"Ed, was he in Special Forces by chance?"
The detective glanced at his notes then back up to Eli.
"Yeah, I think so--says he had a Special Forces tattoo on his forearm. How did ya know he was a Green Beret?"
Eli exchanged looks with Ashley before lowering his head.
"Ed, I think the killer must be going after the team."
"What team are you talking about?" Faraday asked, stepping closer.
Eli motioned behind him. "As I told you, Sergeant Major Rhodes and this victim served together in Vietnam on the same Special Forces team. I bet the victim in Fort Smith was on the same team with them."
"Oh shit . . . how many are there on a team?"
"Twelve, if it was a full A-team, six if it was split. If it was a B-team, it's a lot more."
Ashley grasped Eli's arm. "How can we find out for sure if the victim in Fort Smith was on the team?"
Eli took in another breath to try to relax and think. "Victim's family would know, and we can contact the DOD. They'll have records, but it will take days, maybe weeks."
"DOD? What's that?"
"Department of Defense. I think I know a faster way. Go and talk to this victim's wife. Collect any pictures she may have of her husband in Nam. Also get all his Army records, especially his citations for awards or promotions. And the letters he sent to her. I'll visit the sergeant major's widow and do the same. We'll meet in the office and go over what we came up with. Ed, I'm leaving the scene in your hands. Please call the Fort Smith P. D. and have them talk to their victim's widow and do the same thing we're doing by collecting his Army pictures and records. They can fax the stuff to our office."
"Got it. I'll call 'em now." Faraday strode back toward his car.
Ashley still held Eli's arm. "Still want me to call the SAC?"
"Yes, fill him in and request DOD's help. Tell him we have to move quick. The killer has struck three times in five days, and most likely is going after the others."
It was ten o'clock in the morning when Regina set a full cup of coffee down in front of Ashley, who was going through one of the three boxes of photographs and memorabilia she'd gotten from Hoffman's widow. "I'll bet you haven't had a bite to eat this mornin', Agent Sutton. Want me to go get you somethin'?"
Ashley glanced up. "Thank you, Ms. Washington, but coffee is fine. You didn't have to make it, you know?"
Regina settled into a chair. "I know, but you and the boss being so busy and all. Can I help you in some way?"
Leaning back in her chair, Ashley wrinkled her brow as if frustrated. "I wish you could, but I'm not sure what I'm looking for. We'll just have to wait until Agent Tanner gets here with the sergeant major's things and tells us what it is we're looking for."
Regina smiled. "The boss is somethin', isn't he? He sure got a way about him."
"I guess I haven't noticed," Ashley said, picking up several pictures. "What kind of way does he have?"
"You know. A way--the way he walks and the way he talks but doesn't say a thing, his eyes and his look says it all for him.
It's cool, definitely cool. GBI guys that were in yesterday usin' our copier told me he slam-dunked the military police major, big-time. Said the boss was cool as a cucumber and was right on ruling a suspicious death. I wish I'd been there to see it."
Ashley kept her eyes on the pictures. "Maybe you should start a fan club, Ms. Washington."
Regina got up and walked back to her desk. Girl, see if I get you coffee again.
The front door swung open and in stepped Eli, carrying a box and a smile. "Got it!" He strode straight to his desk, put down the box, and removed a framed picture from the top.
"Take a look. It's a team photo. I got it from the sergeant major's study. There, in the middle standing by the captain, is Rhodes, and here on the end is Hoffman."
Ashley had moved beside him and was studying the picture.
"I count eleven
Americans. Are those South Vietnamese soldiers kneeling in front of them?"
"Nope, Cambodian Special Forces troops. Probably an A-team the team trained. I've got more." He reached in the box and took out a thin green plastic-covered book.
Eli opened it, and Ashley could see it was in fact a folder of some kind. "This is an award folder," he said. "We all got them along with the medals we received. See here, it's a citation. `By Direction of the Secretary of the Army, the Army Commendation Medal is presented to Staff Sergeant Jerald D. Rhodes 110-65-2689, Infantry, United States Army. For exceptionally meritorious achievement in support of the United States objectives in the counterinsurgency effort in the Republic of Vietnam during the period four January 1972 to nine June 1972'."
Eli paused and removed the top paper from the folder. "This citation was standard verbiage, but at least we know the dates they served together. This paper here behind the citation is the orders published by their unit headquarters. It was published by Headquarters and Headquarters Company of the Second Battalion Fifth Special Forces Group. This is what we needed.
See the names? There are eleven of them, starting with a Captain Robert E. Anderson. . . . Rhodes is the second name, Hoffman is the fifth, and our victim from Fort Smith, Edward D. McIntyre, is the tenth. We've got it. This gives us the names of the others. Agent Sutton, call the names into DOD. They should be able to run them through their computer and give us current home addresses on-"
Eli stopped in mid-sentence, seeing Detective Faraday walk in the front office door. The look the detective held told Eli he was bringing bad news.
Faraday motioned at the computer. "You read your e-mail from NCIC lately?"
Eli looked at Ashley, and she shook her head. "No, I've been going through victims' pictures."
Eli held out the paper in his hand. "Ed, here they are. We found the names of the other team members in a copy of orders."
"That's good work, Agent Tanner. By any chance is the name Edwin Turner on that list?"
Eli looked at the list of names and raised his head. "Third name on this list. Is he . . ."
"It's on your e-mail. Edwin Turner was found dead five days ago in San Antonio, Texas. His death was ruled suicide.
Like the victim in Fort Smith, the cops didn't log it on the NCIC. They read our bulletin then sent us a report over the computer. Their victim had a gold chain and cross in his mouth. It matches the M. O. of your killer. And get this. They found a .22, Italian, semiautomatic. And the last digit of its serial number is only one number off from the one found at the scene this morning. It gets worse. The Junction City, Kansas, P. D. read our bulletin and sent us a report about an apparent suicide they had on the first of June. Victim's name was Duane H. Gosset. Same M. O. and the serial number of the .22 he used is one off from the one in San Antonio."
Eli looked down the column of names. "Gosset was the eleventh name on the list."
The detective frowned. "Looks like your killer is way ahead of us. How many does that make?'
"Six," Eli said. "That leaves only four to go. One of the team members has to be the killer-it's the only explanation unless it could be a team member's son or some other family member. . . . Regina, please get those e-mails printed in hard copies for me. But first get the SAC on the line,"
Before Regina could pick up the phone, it rang. She picked it up.
"Columbus resident office. . . . Yes, sir, he just asked me to call the SAC." She held the phone out to Eli and whispered, "Boss, it's the ASAC, Agent Polous."
Eli took the phone. "This is Agent Tanner, sir, I'm putting you on the speaker so Agent Sutton and GBI Detective Faraday can listen to our conversation."
"Sure, go ahead, Agent Tanner. Have you seen the messages about the other victims?'
"Sir, we were just appraised of the others by the GBI, but I think I may have some good news for you. The killings aren't random. We now know that all the victims served together in the Special Forces on the same team in Vietnam in 1972. We also have the names of the other team members. With DOD's help we should be able to find the remaining five team members. It's our assumption one of the team members is the killer and will continue to go after the others. Our priority is to find the team members fast."
"I'll be damned, how did you make the connection?"
"Got lucky, sir. We got the names from an old set of orders from one of the victims. But we need to move fast and find the other team members. The killer is moving very quickly. Agent Sutton is faxing the names as we speak, and a picture of the team members."
"Right, good work. Look, Agent Tanner, the SAC feels you're in over your head on this. This office is taking the lead, effective immediately. We've got the manpower, experts, and assets to handle the case in a more expeditious manner. The SAC wants you and Sutton to come up tomorrow and bring our people up to speed. Bring everything you've got . . . Yeah, okay . . . Sorry, my secretary just brought in the fax of the names you sent. This is good work. Now if we just knew where to find these men. DOD is notorious for moving slow. We need to know where they live now."
"Sir, we'll work on it on this end. We just found the list of the names and will go back and talk to the victims' widows.
Seeing the names may jog their memories. Maybe the men exchanged Christmas cards or something." Eli paused a moment and beads of perspiration suddenly broke out on his forehead. "Sir, I just thought of something, it's a long shot, but have one of your agents call the phone company in Fayetteville, North Carolina, and see if any of the five remaining team members lives there."
"Why 'Fayetteville?"
"It's the home of the Special Forces. Their headquarters is in Fort Bragg, just outside the city. Like I said, it's a long shot, but maybe one of them retired nearby to be close to his old buddies."
"Got it. I'll have someone check now. I'll see you and Agent Sutton in the office tomorrow at nine sharp. In the meantime start faxing us what you have."
Eli hung up the phone and shrugged. "Well, you heard him. . . . Looks like we're out of it."
Her eyes burning, Ashley snapped, "In over our heads?
What was that supposed to mean?"
The GBI detective cocked an eyebrow. "Ma'am, I'm not sure how you feds operate, but at state level it means this case has gotten too high profile to let the players play the game. The coaches and owners want in. I know it don't mean a hill of beans now, but I thought you two had a pretty good handle on things."
Eli gave the detective a small smile. "Thanks, Ed, but the SAC is right, we don't have the manpower or the experts. He made the right call."
"Well, I'm not doin' anything for a while. If you make me a copy of those names, I'll visit Hoffman's widow while you talk to Mrs. Rhodes. Cut your time in half."
Eli handed the page to Regina. "Would you please make Ed a copy of this." Facing the detective, he slapped him on the shoulder. "You know, Ed, you state boys ain't half as bad as I heard. In fact, how about this evening let's you and I go have some ribs and beer. I'll buy."
Ed shrugged his broad shoulders. "The boys will give me a ration of shit if they find out I ate with a fed . . . but hell, you ain't half bad yourself. It's a deal."
Taking the copy Regina handed him, Ed waved and walked out of the office.
Ashley cleared her throat to get her fellow agent's attention.
"What do you want me to do with these things I got from Mrs.
Hoffman?"
"I'd appreciate it if you'd read the letters he wrote to his wife from Nam. And Rhodes's letter, too, if you have time. We need to know what the team was doing, what was their mission. The Special Forces was involved in a lot of black operations over there, secret operations that the public and Congress didn't know about. Write down any names that come up of other units or people who were involved with the team. Our killer may be going after more than the team. And look for anything that indicates if any team member had problems with the others."
Ashley gave him a searching stare. "I thought we were off
the case."
"We are, but we've got to bring the Atlanta office up to speed tomorrow. The more we know, the more we can help them."
"I don't like it, Tanner. Reading love letters of dead men is not my cup of tea."
"Okay, no problem. I'll do it when I get back."
"No, I'll do it, Tanner. You'll have to prepare to brief tomorrow. I'll back-brief you on what the letters say. . . . We could do it over dinner, but I see you already have a date with Mr. Good 01' Boy. I'm sure he'll just love Bubba's ribs."
"I bet he likes the music, too. I'd invite you to go along but we both know what your answer would be. I'm headin' out to ask Mrs. Rhodes about these names, then going to see Murph to see if the sergeant major mentioned any of the names to him.
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