Eleven (28 page)

“I understand you want closure, but why—”

“Like that? Because I’m not naive enough to believe the world is a good place—”

“Special Agent Paige Dawson.” She crossed her arms. “I take it your daughter wasn’t one of the bodies found.”

“Not that we’ve been able to prove.”

“What about MtDNA? It was discovered back in ’61. Samples would have been taken from the remains.” Zachery put the file down on the table. “Its full name is mitochondrial DNA, and it has proven to be a great aid in solving old cases where the remains are skeletal. This DNA can be pulled from hair, bones and teeth unlike nuclear DNA.” He glanced at me. “That’s the common DNA you normally hear about. Anyway, MtDNA can be used to match an individual with a family. It only takes on the characteristics from the maternal side. It’s fascinating really.” He paused as if assessing to see if his words were sinking in. “It remains unchanged for thousands of years only undergoing a significant mutation after sixty-five hundred years. Some believe our ancestry traces back to an African woman from two hundred thousand years ago.”

Jack raised a hand to Zachery as if to say,
enough of the forensic lesson.

Zachery continued. “The technology’s available to us. Why haven’t you gotten the unidentified female corpses tested to see if one was your daughter?”

“Her mother died years ago and I wasn’t really a part of their life. Not that I wanted it that way. But we were kids when she got pregnant. I was eighteen, her sixteen. I proposed. She wisely said no. Anyway, life went on. My daughter’s mother has a sister, Tammy Sherman, but she can’t stand the sight of me.”  Jenkins took out his wallet and extended a photo to Jack. “Her name was Donna. She was just nineteen when she went missing.”

Jack looked at the photo, and then handed it to Paige and directed her to pass it along. “Did you file a missing persons?”

“What was the point? I know those types of things get lost in the system.”

Zachery handed me the photo. As my eyes settled on it, I recognized the face immediately. My head snapped up to face Zachery, who shook his head.

Jack took the file that Jenkins had put on the table and put it back in the evidence box. “We’ll let you know if we can identify her.”

“Oh no, you’re not pushing me out of this investigation.”

“There’s no way—”

“One officer of the law to another.”

“Retired,” Jack corrected him.

“Isn’t there one case that means so much to you that you lose sleep over it? Have you seen the bags under my eyes? I’m not here for a pity party, but I’m not leaving.”

“We can have you escorted.”

“You could. But I see in your eyes you won’t.”

Jack didn’t say anything for seconds; I believe I heard the clock in the room tick off each one. “You help familiarize us with the files, the suspects, and the investigation. But the minute—,” Jack pointed a finger at Jenkins, “—you are more in the way out you go. Understood?”

Jenkins saluted Jack, soliciting another hidden smirk from Paige.

“But first if I could consult with my team.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me? You found her didn’t you? You recognize her?”

“I just need a few minutes with my team,” Jack directed Jenkins. The man complied and left the room. Jack closed the door behind him.

“My god, Jack, his daughter was one of the photos found in Bingham’s cell,” Paige said.

“We have to tell him.”

Jack turned to me. “Absolutely not. At this point, all we have is a photo. The rest has to be proven.” His eyes scanned all of us. “Are we clear on that?”

We all nodded.

CHAPTER 27

We spent the next few hours going over the case as Jenkins recalled it. Zachery had read the entire contents of the record boxes and could relate to most of what Jenkins said. But what Jenkins did offer was a live recounting, not something simply documented and left for interpretation.

“So why didn’t you refer the case to the FBI?” Paige asked the question of Jenkins.

We were all seated around the table in the cramped office. An evidence file box had been pushed to the middle of the table to allow room for an extra-large pizza box. The pizza brought in for a late lunch had disappeared in a record time of twenty minutes.

“And what, let you have the glory?” Jenkins smiled at Paige, and she returned it. “There wasn’t any immediate danger. No evidence the killer would strike again.”

“There were eleven bodies in shallow graves.”

“Yes, but no evidence to indicate there would be more victims. The last victim was pegged two years before the find.”

“But that was the estimated time between kills. Some were two years apart, some one. The one year, two people were killed. You couldn’t have based it on that.” Jack had a tight grip on his pop can
.
“You made a risky decision.” The implication wasn’t missed by Jenkins.

“It’s my fault more people have died?”

“It could have been prevented.”

Paige intervened. “How did you find out about our case? I mean it’s great you’re here to help, but—”

I picked up on the not-so-subtle glare Jack projected at Paige.

Jenkins snapped open a can of pop and pulled off the tab. “Gets caught in the ’stache.” He took a swig.

“But how did you find out? The open case we’re investigating hasn’t been reported in the papers.”

“Your open case I know nothing about. But I still have friends in the department. They know the stakes I have in the Symbolic killer case.”

I glanced over at Jack. Maybe it was time we let the retired detective in on our case. After all, he had too much to lose by exposing the case to the public. “We call him The Redeemer.”

Jenkins’ eyes squinted, pinching the skin around his eyes and showcasing more wrinkles inflicted from the passing of time and a hard life. “It has a sort of ring to it. I take it with your case he also carved the symbol into the vic’s torso?”

“Not exactly.”

Jack rose from the table. His focus honed in on me. “We don’t share details of an open case with a civilian.”

“Agent—”

“Supervisory Special Agent Harper. It’s not up for discussion or debate. You are here to help us not get in the way. Those were the ground rules to not kicking you out the door on your ass.”

Jenkins rose to match Jack. Both men were the same height, making for even eye contact. “You need my help.”

“That has yet to be seen.” Jack pulled out a cigarette, perched it in his lips, and went to leave the room when his cell rang. He answered, “Harper.”

“What not Supervisory Special Agent Harper? Guess he cuts down when he answers a phone to save time,” Jenkins said this to the rest of us as he dropped back into his chair.

I caught Paige smirking again. This time she didn’t bother to hide it.

Seconds later Jack spun around to face us. “We have the same rough timeline as did the detective here. Just every one to two years.”

Jenkins’ face scrunched up almost as if he didn’t appreciate being identified by a title and not a name. Maybe he should get to used it.

“So what happens every one to two years that sets this guy off?” Paige asked.

“Like I said rough timeline. The ninth victim came seven years after the eighth and Sally came three years after that.”

The room fell silent as we contemplated some justifiable reasoning.

“Maybe he didn’t bury his victims right away?” My voice sliced through the silence. “Or he kept them somewhere else?”

“No, that doesn’t make sense.” Zachery was quick to dismiss my idea. “And there’s no evidence to indicate the burial chamber was a secondary grave.”

Jenkins’ eyes widened at the mention of a burial chamber, but a glare from Jack kept him silent.

“He took pause to work on the tunnel system and layout.”

“This guy had an elaborate thing going?” Jenkins’ brows pressed.

“That would explain one to two, maybe even a three-year gap. But what kept him occupied for seven?” Paige got involved.

“What if,” Zachery started, “What if Bingham—”

“You have a name.” Jenkins’ head snapped to face Zachery.

I saw the words in Zachery’s eyes like a flashing reader board. It read,
oh shit
.

“I meant to say the killer.”

“The killer’s name is Bingham? You know where he is? Let’s go pick him up.” Jenkins leaned forward.

“First of all you’re not going anywhere.” Jack flicked his lighter, no doubt dreaming of lighting the cigarette in his lips. “And second of all, yes, we know who the killer is. We have to prove it thanks to the whole innocent until proven guilty mandate.”

“Then let’s prove it. Let me help you.” Jenkins newfound eagerness was extinguished by the rest of us going silent. “There’s more to it. You don’t think he worked alone.”

None of us responded.

“Yes, that’s it. Well damn.” Jenkins looked around at the boxes. “It would make sense that the killer, Bingham you said, wouldn’t have acted alone. How else would he subdue the victim?”

“I’m going to ask you to leave now.” Jack stepped toward Jenkins.

“I can’t leave now. Besides you just said, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why don’t we just tell him, Jack?” Paige made the appeal in a soft tone that I was familiar with it but shouldn’t have been. It took me back to the times she talked me back into bed when I should have been home with Deb. “He could be of help.”

Jack looked around at all of us, his gaze settling on me. “What do you think, Kid?”

“Honestly?”

“Amuse me.” If he didn’t get a nicotine fix in the next couple minutes, we might have a massacre take place in this room.

I glanced at Paige and Zachery trying to draw the courage to speak my opinion. Jenkins didn’t look impressed that he was being discussed as if he were not there. I faced Jack. “We should.” I wanted to wince after the words came out, just the facial expression on Jack, the way his jaw tightened and his eyes hardened over.

Nadia spun around the doorframe and nearly bumped straight into Jack. “I found something.” She handed him a piece of paper. “That’s a list of the followers who stood out to me from the Redeemer’s Twitter account, but that’s not why I’m here. I found Kurt McCartney’s wife. She changed her name from Martha McCartney to Denise Hogan. And here’s an interesting tidbit. She’s currently living in Sarasota, Florida.”

Jack pointed at me and Paige. “You two get ready to go.”

Paige’s brows arched downward in confusion. “You’re his—”

“I know what I am, but for this trip you’ll be the mentoring agent. Go, you have a plane to catch.”

“What about Deb?” I asked.

“She’s safe and Zach and I have it under control.”

I didn’t understand why he was sending me on a plane with Paige. Why not send her and Zachery, or come with me himself? But with the glazed-over look in his eyes, I knew there would be no arguing with him. His decision was final.