Their Special Agent

by Mel Gough

  George stopped outside a door. “Ready?” He rested his hand on the door handle.

  Carrie straightened her shirt. She was still wearing the silver one Phil had given her what felt like weeks ago. She made a face. No time to worry about that now. “Let’s do this.”

  He looked a lot smaller in the windowless room with the one-way mirror. Over the hours she’d not seen him, Sam Greene had taken on larger-than-life proportions in her mind. He wore a drab beige uniform. The lines on his face stood out starkly in the neon light. His hands were shackled. The stink of unwashed bodies hung in the air. Greene would’ve been given a chance to clean up, but it seemed he had refused. The pungent smell made her feel sorry for him. The inability to care for his personal hygiene should help warrant a mental health evaluation. Carrie made a note to mention it in her report.

  He regarded her with bloodshot eyes. His expression was flat, but when he recognized her, a small spark flickered in his watery blue eyes. They were nothing like those of his twin brother. Even their color was much paler. How Greene had ever thought to get away with the alibi ruse was a mystery. But the truth was, he had for a lot longer than he should have.

  Greene leered at her. “Can’t stay away, huh, sweetheart?”

  Carrie let his words wash over her. She held her hand out to George, hoping he’d understand what she was after. It took a moment, but then he put the file into her hand. Walking across the room, she flicked through it. She took one of the chairs opposite Greene at the metal table, and George sat in another. For a minute, Carrie read through the file in silence. Greene’s narrow gaze never left her, and his index finger tapped a nervous rhythm on the table.

  When Carrie hoped that she’d annoyed him enough, she closed the file and looked at George. “Is the recording running?”

  He nodded toward the one-way mirror. “Now it is.”

  Carrie turned to Greene. “Special Agent Carrie McDonald, FBI, and Detective George Lamar, Austin PD.” She looked at the clock on the wall and read out time and date. Then she nodded at Greene. “Please state your name for the recording.”

  Greene’s jaw jutted forward. “Samuel Greene.”

  Carrie looked at the fourth, empty chair. “Where’s your counsel, Mr. Greene?”

  A sneer creased Greene’s face. “I need no nancy boy lawyer to tell me to shut up.” He sat back. The handcuffs clinked as he intertwined his fingers. “I’ll represent myself.” His body language said, Try and stop me.

  For the time being Carrie decided not to challenge him. She shrugged. “Your choice.” Someone else could fight that one out with the judge later.

  She rested her arms on the table. “So, Mr. Greene, why don’t you tell us about what happened?”

  Something like relief crossed Greene’s face. “I could’ve killed him, y’know?”

  “You already told me that.” Carrie raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. “Are you sure you would’ve had the balls?”

  Greene’s color rose. Carrie had dealt with men like him plenty of times. The last thing they wanted to hear was that they were somehow weak, or have their masculinity questioned. Once again, Carrie was struck by how different from his brother he was. Nigel had been quiet, polite and self-contained in a defeated sort of way. Sam had none of that poise.

  “Maybe I don’t want to talk to you.” Snarling, Greene’s lined face didn’t look any better.

  Carrie picked up the folder and made to get up. “No problem. Interview t—”

  “Not so fast, missy,” Greene spat, angry.

  Good. Real emotion would cut through his crap in no time.

  “Make up your mind, Mr. Greene. We’re busy people. Do you want to talk or not?” Carrie sat back down.

  “He wasn’t all that, y’know?” Greene’s tone was calm again as if nothing had happened. Carrie wasn’t fooled by his docility.

  “Who wasn’t?”

  “Cornell.” Greene was getting impatient. “He was a shoddy manager. I saw it right away. I worked with him for weeks, you know? I could’ve done it a lot better myself.” His lip curled. “And I would’ve fired that prissy sack Phil on the first day. He’s even worse in the job than Cornell was.”

  George interjected, “Mr. Young wouldn’t have had to take over if you hadn’t killed Barry Cornell.”

  Something shone in Greene’s eyes. “You got proof I did it, is that right?”

  Would this be the moment where he started denying everything? “We’ve got all the proof we need,” Carrie said. It was true, too. Then why does it feel like it’s not? She leaned back, eyeing Greene. He was fucking with them, in a way she’d never experienced before.

  Greene snorted. “Took you long enough to find it, didn’t it?” He looked down at the hands clasped in his lap. “I was good, you know? Real good. As good as them. Better.”

  Carrie wasn’t thrown by his change of direction. They were getting close to the root of it all. “Better than who?”

  “Those faggots,” he snarled. “Don’t think I don’t know. I see them. Sucking on each other’s faces any chance they get.” He spat. “Disgusting. If he’d signed me, he would’ve had himself a proper chick magnet.” He leered. “And finally, people are starting to see it.”

  George shifted in his seat. He pointedly looked at Carrie, but she ignored him. “What people, Sam?”

  Greene gave her a mirthless grin. “You’ll see.”

  “So, are you saying you asked Barry Cornell to be your manager, all these years ago?”

  He nodded. The grin vanished at the memories. “Just after he signed Thistle Hearts. They were nobodies. We could’ve been somebody.”

  “You and…your band?”

  Greene shrugged. His eyes gleamed with manic intensity. “I wouldn’t have needed no band. I was Freddie Fucking Mercury.”

  Carrie didn’t point out that Mercury had had Queen, or that he’d been queer, too.

  George focused on Greene. “So you found out that Thistle Hearts were going on tour, and…what? Decided it was payback time?”

  “I didn’t give a shit the first time around.” Greene seemed lost in his recollections. “Cornell laughed me outta his office and I thought, fuck it. I joined up and thought no more about that fucker.”

  George flicked through the file. “Army?”

  “Yeah.” Greene’s eyes were flat, he seemed very far away. “Afghanistan. Two tours.”

  “Why’d you leave?”

  “Wanted a change of scenery.” His eyes were hard. “I was back a week or so when I saw the ad for the tour.” He held her gaze, like he wanted to make sure she paid attention to what he said next. “I was led to believe my talents would be appreciated. Thought I might become famous after all.”

  A slippery sensation spread through Carrie’s gut. What was he talking about? For the second time in his statement she felt a detail of the puzzle hovering just out of reach.

  “What happened to the tour manager they’d already hired?” She wanted to terminate the interview. The longer it went on, the more uncomfortable she was with the lack of legal representation. Greene didn’t seem to be in command of all his mental faculties. But she also wanted to get to the bottom of the strangeness that lurked in the corners of this man’s mind.

  Greene leered. “He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “What do you mean?” George frowned.

  Greene chuckled. “I ain’t telling ya, find out for yourself.”

  He was playing with them. Carrie’s discomfort with questioning Greene without counsel vanished for the moment. Two could play this game. She leaned forward. “So, you impersonated a tour manager, and Barry Cornell went for it. Did he start to suspect that you weren’t what you said? Was he threatening to go to the cops?”

  The look he threw her was full of derision. “Barry Cornell was an idiot. He couldn’t find his own ass if you drew him a map!” Spittle flew from his mouth. Carrie forced herself not to recoil. Greene had to have really hated the manager. But why
?

  “Did you blackmail him?” She was fishing here. They still didn’t have access to the emails sent from the inbox Barry had deleted. She made a mental note to advise George’s IT specialists to keep digging into the manager’s finances.

  Greene sat very still. Carrie narrowed her eyes. She was certain now that there had been an element of blackmail to this. But it was another dead end. “It wasn’t about money, though, was it? You just needed a hook to reel Barry in, get him to meet with you alone so you could do what you’d planned all along.”

  George pulled the file close and flicked through it. “It’s so obvious,” he murmured. There wasn’t anything in there pointing to financial coercion, but of course, Greene didn’t know this. Carrie’s estimate of George rose.

  George fixed Greene with an iron stare. “You hired some halfwits to hack into the financial accounts and wreck some havoc, didn’t you? It didn’t even have to look professional, he just had to be worried enough to come and meet you in secret.” Carrie guessed that he was fishing in the dark, hoping Greene would say something to untangle the puzzle. She wasn’t so confident that it’d work.

  There was glee in Greene’s eyes now. “He was such an idiot.” His gaze clouded again. “They’re all idiots. Even when he was dead, they didn’t get it.”

  “Get what?” A sour feeling pooled in Carrie’s gut.

  “I just wanted to scare them off,” Greene continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “I wanted them to go home. They’ve made enough hay, haven’t they? They don’t need to corrupt those kids.”

  “What kids?” George sounded puzzled, but Carrie anticipated his answer.

  “Ant and Spencer. Have you looked at them? And those dumb bitches who pay all that money to see their shitty shows.” He rubbed his face, handcuffs jingling. “I did them a favor, y’see?”

  Anger rose in Carrie like bile. “You did them a favor by dropping their own stage on top of them? By injuring and then abducting one of the band’s members?” Her voice was a few octaves higher than she’d intended. George shifted in his seat.

  Something flashed in Greene’s eyes. “Your little nancy boy will heal just fine.” He threw her a knowing look. “Why’re you so interested, anyway?”

  Carrie’s insides froze. She sat very still. What was he getting at? Was it obvious how much the band members meant to her?

  Before she could think of a retort, George rose. “Right, time for a break. Interview terminated at five thirty-seven p.m.”

  Had they been in here this long?

  George made for the door. Without looking at Greene again, Carrie followed. Her anxiety spiked. Did George also suspect that something had transpired between her and the guys?

  George walked down the hallway, out of earshot of the cop guarding the interrogation room. Then he turned. “Carrie, please don’t take this the wrong way. This case is all back to front and I don’t even know whether I’m coming or going.” He raised his hand before she could voice her protest. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I asked for your help, and you gave it, at great personal and professional cost.” He took a deep breath. “But I think it’s time for you to step away now. He’s giving us the runaround in there, and the more crap he spouts, the easier it’ll be for the defense to blow the case out of the water. Right now, even if he doesn’t say another word, we have what we need to charge him. The DA’s preliminary assessment is that we have enough to convict him of murder first, as well as the kidnapping. We’ll need you to testify when the time comes, but I think it would be best if you stayed away from him now.”

  He was giving her an easy way out. Whatever he suspected, he’d guessed that Carrie had gotten too close to the case.

  She’d be crazy not to take this window of opportunity, even if it stung professionally. “You’re right. It’s your case, you asked for my help catching a killer, and I did. Now it’s your job to tie this up as watertight as possible.” It still hurt her pride, but she was grateful to George and hoped he knew. There was a lot at stake for her now, more than she’d ever thought possible. “There is still something about this guy, and the whole crime, that makes me wonder.”

  George nodded, but seemed almost reluctant. “I confess, I share that assessment. We might never know what it was, of course. Unless Greene reveals it.”

  “I doubt he will. If there’s anything to reveal at all.” She rubbed her eyes, gathering her thoughts. “George, just promise me one thing. Get the DA and the judge to agree that Greene can’t represent himself.”

  Judges and juries didn’t like self-representation, but it made the prosecution’s case a lot easier. It was no surprise that George looked hesitant.

  “Do it for his brother,” Carrie urged. “He deserves to know we played fair. Let’s do right by everyone here. Things have been going wrong long enough.”

  At last, George nodded. “You got it.”

  It was an awkward parting. George walked her to the elevators, and as they stood waiting, he held out his hand. “Well, uh…thanks for your help. I’ll call you with an update after we’ve been to the magistrate.”

  The elevator pinged open. Carrie shook his hand. “Please do. I’ll see you at the prelim.”

  She got into the elevator and George stood waiting until the doors had closed. Carrie leaned against the wall as the cabin shuddered upward.

  This had been by far the strangest case she’d ever worked. Never mind what had happened with the guys. The crime seemed so pointless, and the perp unsettled her in a way that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Greene had committed heinous crimes, but he also seemed so lost.

  The elevator came to a stop. Carrie straightened up. She would step away now and let George handle this. It was his case, no matter how entangled she’d gotten. It might take her a few days to really switch off from it emotionally, but one thing would help: She had other things to worry about.

  Coming to Austin had thrust her into an entirely unfamiliar personal situation, and now she wanted to find out where that was going.

  Outside, she hailed a cab. Once she’d settled into the back seat, she pulled out her phone and dialed Corey’s number.

  “Hey, babe. You done at the station?”

  “Yeah. I’m starving. You still at the hospital?”

  “I’m at the Fairmont Hotel. Phil moved all our shit, I’m going mad sorting through everything to make sure we didn’t leave something important behind.”

  That reminded Carrie. “Damn, I need to go check my room at the Four Seasons. Bet the forensics guys left a real mess.”

  There was a brief pause from Corey, then, “Uh, I had your stuff moved too.”

  “You did? Where to?”

  “My room. If that’s all right with you?”

  A warmth spread through Carrie that she hadn’t thought possible after the day that lay behind them. “Course it’s all right. More than all right.” She lowered her voice. “I’m glad I won’t have to spend the night alone.”

  “Like you’ve spent any nights alone since meeting us.” His teasing was gentle. Carrie blushed. So he knew what she’d been up to after him. Before she could say anything he added, “Come here and we’ll have dinner. The restaurant looks decent.”

  “On my way.” And to the driver, “Change of plans, can you take me to the Fairmont Hotel instead, please?” The man switched lanes. Carrie returned to her call. “Where’s Jay?”

  “At the hospital. They admitted him for shock.” Corey chuckled. “They gave him the second bed in Lou’s room, but I doubt he’ll let go of the poor guy for the foreseeable future.”

  “Can’t say I blame him. Glad he’s taken care of.”

  There was a pause. “You did it, babe. You caught the bad guy, and you kept us all safe.” His voice was full of wonder. “I never thought we needed saving.”

  “Most people don’t think they do.” Carrie bit her lip. That had been a lot more condescending than intended. “Hey, listen, I’ll be there in a few. Why don’t you order us someth
ing to the room? I don’t think I can face your adoring entourage today if we go to the restaurant. I bet the ones camped out at the Four Seasons have already cottoned on that you’ve flown the coop.”

  He chuckled. “Fair point. What would you like?”

  “Something that goes well with a really big bottle of wine.”

  Another chuckle. “You got it. The room is 3510. See you soon.”

  They ended the call, and Carrie leaned back. As the cab crept through the rush hour traffic she allowed herself to relax for what felt like the first time in days.

  Corey had said it. The baddies were out of commission, all of her guys were safe and accounted for. She’d have nice food at a swanky hotel, and then curl up with someone who truly cared about her.

  That last bit hadn’t exactly been an anticipated outcome when she’d agreed to help George with his caseload, but she wasn’t complaining. Maybe life wasn’t so unfair after all.

  Epilogue

  “So you’re coming tomorrow?” Trixie’s voice rose an octave with excitement. “And you’ll be here to see my play?” Her stunned disbelief threatened to break Carrie’s heart.

  “Course I will, hon.” She suppressed the wobble clawing its way up her throat. “I’ve booked my flight; I’m landing just after noon.”

  “That’s so cool.” Trixie still sounded like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Uh, Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can we go to the Cheesecake Factory after? I know it’s not really on the way.”

  “Anything you want, honey.” Carrie would’ve made reservations for a three-course menu at the Ritz if Trixie had wanted it. And if they spent most of their time in public, her mother couldn’t keep up a stream of awkward questions.

  “Awesome! I’ll tell Gran!”

  To be thirteen again and get this excited at the prospect of a visit to a chain restaurant. Carrie suppressed a wistful sigh. “All right. Listen, I’ll call you once I’m in the cab from the airport.”