by Mel Gough
George didn’t seem as relieved to learn about Greene’s past. “Have you recently been to San Antonio, sir?”
“Not for a long time.” Greene massaged his knee again. “I don’t drive much. My leg’s not up to it.”
“When you do, what do you drive?” George still seemed tense.
“A Ram. It’s parked out back.” Greene grimaced. “I bought it before the shooting, but I should sell it. Getting out is murder on this.” He flushed. “I mean—"
“And you’ve not rented a car recently?” George persisted. Greene shook his head.
“So that was a rental, the car involved in this crime?”
“A red Prius.” George glanced at Carrie, who gave him a nod, hoping he’d get her meaning. Her gut told her that Greene was kosher, and sharing freely with other LEOs could speed up a case. George seemed to come to the same conclusion. He unwound somewhat and gave Greene an overview of what they had.
“Someone rented the car in my name?” A member of the public would panic at this point, or be disconcerted at the very least. Greene seemed puzzled and intrigued. Carrie could understand his interest. Going from solving crimes to programming apps had to have been an adjustment. There was a fierce intelligence behind his eyes, and a chance to fire up the synapses had to be compelling.
“Correct.”
“And you think that the blood in the rental came from your vic?”
George nodded. “There’s enough blood on that seat to make that a reasonable assumption. The vic bled out before he was left at the gift shop.”
Greene’s brow furrowed. “Why would your unsub abandon the vehicle in a public space? He had to know that it would be found within days.”
He was sharp, no question about it. He might’ve made a good detective one day…
Something in Carrie clicked. She sat up straighter, staring at Greene. “Sir, do you have a brother?”
The skin around Greene’s eyes tightened. “I do.” He was cautious now. “In fact, I have a twin.”
George threw Carrie a puzzled look, but she ignored him. “Does your brother live locally?”
“No.” Something seemed to be causing him pain. Without knowing why, Carrie felt sorry for him.
“When did you see your brother last?”
It took Greene a moment to reply. “I haven’t seen him in years.” His face shifted with a growing, painful realization. “Not since before Sammy joined the Army. But he called me three days ago. I didn’t even know he was back in the country. He said he was passing through the old stomping grounds, and would I meet him at the Cat’s Paws Thursday.” He stared at the floor, absently rubbing his knee. Then, with a deep breath, he looked up. “Special Agent McDonald, do you think my brother is involved in this?”
Carrie was about to answer when she realized what he’d said. She narrowed her eyes. “How did you know I was with the FBI?”
Greene shrugged. “Special skill of mine.” A small grin stole onto his face, bringing out his dimples. The grin didn’t last.
Carrie gave him an encouraging smile. “So your brother called, but you didn’t see him?”
Greene shook his head. “I drove all the way out to that dive. It’s halfway to San Antonio. I’d never been; it’s new, I think, though you couldn’t tell. It’s a dump.” Pain flashed across his face, and it seemed to run deeper than his busted knee. “He never showed. I hung around for two hours, drinking soda.” He grimaced. “I hate soda, but beer doesn’t go with my knee. Makes the joints swell or something. Hurts like hell.”
Next to Carrie, George seemed to have an epiphany of his own. He pulled out his notebook, flicking through the pages. “What did you say the bar was called?”
“The Cat’s Paws.”
“So he never showed,” Carrie prompted while George was occupied.
Greene nodded. “That’s right.”
George had found what he was looking for. “Here.” He held the notepad out to Carrie. The Cat’s Paws—Tom Myers’ alibi, it read. He turned back to Greene. “Did you talk to anyone?”
Nigel frowned. “Just the bartender. Sammy said to ask for him if he wasn’t in the bar. He might be out in the beer garden they tacked on, having a smoke.” He shook his head. “Beer garden. The place is a dive, what the hell do they need a beer garden for?”
George pulled out his phone. He brought something up on the screen then showed it to Greene. “Is this you?” It was a photograph of the ID used to rent the car. It showed Nigel Greene’s name. Carrie couldn’t believe she’d not made that connection sooner. But they’d only glanced through the evidence to find Greene’s address before setting off.
Greene took a close look. He didn’t speak for a long while, but a vein in his throat pulsed. “I can’t believe it,” he said softly. He looked at George, then Carrie. His eyes were wild. “That’s Sammy, but he never used to look like me. Not since we were kids. His hair was long until he went into the Army, and he had a beard.” He got laboriously to his feet. “He sent me a letter, just after enlisting. Hang on.” He limped to the bookcase and pulled an envelope from a hardback volume standing close to his medal. “Here.” He took a picture from the envelope and handed it to Carrie.
She turned it for George to take a look. The man in the photo resembled Nigel Greene, but now that they knew, they could spot the differences. This was a younger Sam Greene—or Tom Myers, as he called himself as tour manager for Thistle Hearts.
George gave a low whistle and glanced at Greene. “This is clever.”
“He was always a schemer.” Greene’s voice was low.
Carrie got up. “Mr. Greene, we’re grateful for your help.” She gave him her card. “Call us if you think of something else.”
She headed for the door before either man could speak. As she went, she pulled out her phone.
This was bad. She’d seen the man only with a block of seats between them, and it had taken her much too long to make the connection. She should’ve taken her gut feeling seriously and checked that tour manager out properly. She dialed Jay’s number, but the call cut out before anyone picked up.
George caught up with her on the veranda. “We weren’t finished.”
Carrie ignored his protests. “Call the station on your radio and have them dispatch a car.”
“Where to?”
“The arena. Sam Greene is there, with the guys.” Her phone cut out again. “And put your foot down. I have no reception in this backwater.”
They climbed into the car. George got them back onto the main road, then folded down his sun shield. He pressed a button and sirens blared while lights begun flashing on the shield. As they hit the interstate, Carrie’s cell finally connected.
It rang three times, then four, then five. Carrie’s leg jiggled with nerves. “Come on...”
At last, the phone was answered. Without waiting for Jay to speak, Carrie said, “I know who—”
“Carrie, this is Corey. We’re at the hospital.”
“It…what?” Carrie’s stomach dropped away.
“One of the rigs collapsed,” Corey said. “Lou got hit by a floodlight.”
Carrie’s heart skipped several beats. Hands slippery with sweat she switched the phone to the other side. “How bad is it?”
“Don’t know yet. He’s in surgery.” Corey exhaled audibly. “Carrie, I thought he was dead.”
Carrie’s training kicked in. Salient details first. Emotions had to wait. “What hospital are you at?”
“St. David’s.”
“Stay on the line.” She turned to George. “Have another squad car meet us at St. David’s Hospital. Two uniforms. There’s been an incident.” Into the phone she said, “Is everyone there with you? Jay?”
“He’s here. They dropped his charges. The Insects are here, too, and Phil.”
They dropped Jay’s charges. Carrie filed that away. There was no time. “Corey, I know who killed Barry. It was Tom Myers, the tour manager. Well, the man calling himself that, anyway.”
> “Tom?” Corey sounded incredulous. “But how? And why?”
“Unknown. Apprehending him is our first priority.” Silence at the other end made Carrie change her tone. “Listen, Corey. Two officers will be with you any minute now. Do exactly as they say. Stay close together. We’re on our way.” She wanted to hang up, but dithered. She had to ask. “How’s Jay?”
“Pretty cut up. He was still at the courthouse when it happened. He blames himself.”
Of course he does. Carrie could relate. She would blame herself too. Hell, she did, for not seeing what was right under her nose. “Do you know why they dropped the charges?”
“No clue. You wanna talk to him? He’s pacing, but I can get him.”
Carrie bit her lip. “No. We’re on our way. Stay together, Corey. Listen to the officers. I’ll see you soon.”
“All right.” Corey sounded exhausted and scared.
It was easy to forget the impact violent crime had on civilians. An attack like this could seem like the end of the world to anyone who didn’t deal with them every day.
Before she cut the line, Carrie added, “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”
“So Greene’s twin works for the band?” George asked as Carrie put away her phone.
“He does.” She collected her thoughts. “He calls himself Tom Myers. I saw him briefly yesterday.” She slammed a fist into her other hand. “I can’t believe it took me so long to connect all the dots!”
“So he used a false name to get close enough to Barry to off him?”
“Looks like it.” Carrie sighed. “There’s something here I can’t put my finger on.” Something else Corey had said suddenly popped up in her mind. “Hey, do you have any idea why those thugs withdrew their complaints against Jay?”
George frowned. “They did?”
“Apparently so.”
He shook his head. “Man, this case is messed up.”
“You think?” Carrie sighed again. “Maybe you should get the local station to send a security detail over to Greene. His brother might make contact again, especially once he realizes we’re on his tail.”
George grimaced. “He won’t like that, being an ex-cop and all.”
“He’d like being dead even less.”
16
They spent the rest of the drive in uneasy silence. An accident on the highway before they entered the city slowed them down, and the last few miles dragged. When George pulled into the hospital’s parking garage, Carrie checked her watch. The drive had taken almost ninety minutes.
“Are you okay?” George regarded her as they waited for the elevator. “You’ve been very quiet.”
“I feel guilty for leaving them alone.” Now that the facts had sunk in, it lay on her heavily. She’d run from the hotel without remembering her promise to Jay. And she’d been too slow to put the clues together and save Lou from getting hurt. Maybe, if she’d gone back to the arena with them, she would’ve seen something out of the ordinary and apprehended Sam Greene before he could wreck more havoc.
Before George could speak, Carrie’s cell rang. It was Gibbs. “Shit.”
George raised an enquiring eyebrow. “My field supervisor.” She dithered, but only for a moment. It was a bad idea to ignore a call from Gibbs. She pressed the green button. “Sir, I apologize for not reporting back. There have been several developments in quick”
“McDonald, you’re off the case.”
Carrie’s stomach plummeted faster than the elevator was rising. “Sir, I can’t leave now. We’re closing in on the unsub.”
“I’m sure Detective Lamar can cross the T’s and dot the I’s.” Gibbs’s tone brokered no argument, but Carrie couldn’t help herself.
“Why now, sir?”
There was a pause. “We’ve had a complaint, from an anonymous source within Austin PD.” To his credit, Gibbs sounded disgusted. He detested snitches.
“If this has to do with the attack on Louis Zee.” Anger rose in her like fire. “Mr. Davis was merely trying”
“I have no time for the petty intricacies of your little celebrity babysitting sojourn,” Gibbs growled. “I don’t like complaints about my agents. When you’re liaising with other agencies, your first concern is at all times to foster good relations between local law enforcement and the Bureau.”
“I thought my first concern was to solve the crime I’ve been tasked to investigate.” It had slipped out before Carrie could stop herself.
The next pause dragged. Into the silence, the elevator doors pinged open. “Agent McDonald,” Gibbs said at last, his voice carefully controlled. “You’re one of my best agents, and I like you. I will pretend that you never said that.”
“Understood, sir.” Carrie’s face burned.
“You have your orders.” Gibbs’s voice was all business again. “Cease your involvement with this investigation at once and return to Baltimore. I expect your debrief in my office tomorrow morning at ten.”
The line went dead. Carrie lowered the phone. It almost slipped from her numb fingers. The sudden increase in noise made her look around, disoriented. They’d stepped out of the elevator into a busy hospital corridor.
“That sounded serious.” George gave her a concerned look.
Carrie shook her head. “Let’s check on the guys.” She walked down the corridor, a numbness affecting all her senses. This couldn’t be happening now. Not when they were this close.
Corey and Jay were waiting near a reception desk. When they spotted her, Corey strode over. He enfolded Carrie in a bear hug before she could speak. To her surprise, her body sank into his, tears pricking her eyes. Corey breathed heavily and clung on hard.
“Is he okay?” Carrie finally managed.
“Still in surgery.” Corey let her go. His eyes were wet. “Oh god, Carrie. It was awful.” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I thought he was dead.” He glanced at Jay, who had joined them, looking stony-faced and gray.
His stare made Carrie shiver. “Hey.” Her voice quivered. “I’m sorry for—” Running off, forgetting your hearing.
His gaze softened. “It’s not your fault.” His eyes shimmered wetly, too. He looked away, sniffed. “I should’ve let him come with me. He wanted to. I blew him off.”
There was no point telling him that it wasn’t his fault. Grief and shock work that way. They make people believe the strangest things. Carrie touched his elbow, just for a moment. Jay’s shoulders slumped.
“What happened?” Carrie turned back to Corey, as much to distract them all from the emotions they didn’t know what to do with.
“We wanted to check how things would sound if we started in different spaces on stage.” Corey glanced at Jay nervously. This seemed to be a contested point. Jay stiffened, but said nothing. “I was on the far side, getting the Insects in position. Lou was on the other end, tuning his guitar.” He shuddered.” If he’d been a few feet closer, the rigging would’ve split open his skull.”
Jay balled his fists. He shook his head. “Who does something like that?”
Carrie glanced at Corey. He looked at her guiltily. “I wasn’t sure how to tell him.”
Carrie patted his arm. “I don’t blame you.” She turned to Jay. “It appears that your tour manager isn’t who he says he is.”
Jay’s eyes widened. “Tom Myers?”
“His actual name is Sam Greene.”
Corey chimed in, “He was there today, just before we went on stage.”
Carrie turned to him. “Did you see him again after the accident?”
“Nope. We can ask the others, but I didn’t see him again.”
Carrie glanced at George, who stood nearby. He gave a small nod to confirm he’d heard.
“But why?” Jay had gone even paler. “We barely know the guy. Barry hired him a month or so before the tour. I’ve maybe exchanged three sentences with him. I don’t think Lou has ever talked to him.”
Carrie found that odd. “Isn’t that late to hire a tour manager?”
Jay shrugged. “Apparently the other one pulled out. I didn’t pay much attention, and the switch seemed to go smoothly.” His expression made it plain that he now wished he’d given the matter a second thought.
“Mr. Davis, Mr. Hart.” A doctor wearing scrubs approached. “Louis is out of the OR. The procedure went well.”
Jay perked up. “Which one is his room?”
The doctor glanced at George and Carrie. Corey said, “These are Special Agent McDonald and Detective Lamar. They’re investigating this mess.”
Another stab of guilt. How could she ever tell them that she was off the case?
“Come with me.” The doctor led them toward a corridor.
George touched Carrie’s arm. “I’ll stay here with Phil and the others.”
Carrie looked around at Phil and the two young Texans hovering in a nearby waiting area. She nodded at George. “See if they know anything else about Sam Greene, aka Tom Myers.”
The doctor stopped outside a room tucked out of the way at the end of a corridor. Before it stood a uniformed office, young-looking but with the kind of broad chest that made the buttons pop even on a uniform that fit. Carrie nodded at him, and he straightened up.
The bandaged, bruised figure in the bed barely looked like Lou. His face was even grayer than Jay’s, his lips bloodless and cracked. Blood had matted the curls around his right temple. Cleaning up nonessential areas clearly hadn’t been high on the care staff’s agenda so far. His right arm was tightly bound to his chest, the shoulder immobilized under a plethora of bandages. He seemed to have shrunk since the morning, a far cry from the peacefully sleeping man Carrie had left curled up in bed.
A low sound escaped from Jay’s throat. Lou’s eyes opened. He seemed to have trouble focusing, but he stretched out a hand toward them. Carrie fought the urge to reach for him. She wasn’t who Lou’d want now.
Jay got there first. He sank onto the bed, his legs no longer holding him up, and he croaked, “Lou. God.” He ran his shaking hands over all the parts of Lou’s body he could reach.