Fatal Identity (28 page)

“What could our mother possibly have to do with any of it?” Maura asked.

“We're not sure, but we're hoping to find out. The FBI wouldn't let us near her, so we had no choice but to take her into custody so we can speak to her about some questions we have.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Things about her marriage and her relationship with Jacoby.”

“They were friends.”

“Right.”

“Are you insinuating they were more than friends?” Mark asked.

“I'm not insinuating anything other than we want to talk to her again.”

A nurse came into the waiting room. “Your brother is awake. He's asking for you.”

Mark and Maura took off toward Josh's room. Sam followed, hoping she'd be allowed in to see him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“D
O
WE
KNOW
why he was taken?” one of the patrolmen working Josh's door asked.

“We do,” she said.

“Did we get them?”

“Most of them. We're working on bringing in the ringleader now.”

Half an hour after they went into the room, Mark and Maura emerged. She was tearful. He was pissed.

“Josh wants to see you,” Mark said. “You've got five minutes.”

Though Josh had described his family as not particularly close, Sam was glad that his siblings seemed to care so much about him. He was going to need their support in the days and weeks to come as his new reality set in.

Sam went into the room, wincing at the sight of his bruised and battered face. His upper lip was grossly swollen and one eye completely closed. He had a bandage on his forehead and another on his chin, through both of which she could see sutures.

“How're you feeling?” she asked.

“Great...”

“I'm so sorry this happened, Josh.”

“How's Freddie?”

“Better than you. Banged up but back to work today.”

“That's a relief. He was super cool. He told me to do whatever I was told and stay alive. Just stay alive, he said.”

“That was good advice.”

“It was Dustin. I couldn't believe it when I saw him there—at the house where they took us.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“Just that he was sorry. He was really sorry, but he had to do it.” Josh tried to sit up and groaned, his hands covering his head. “God, my head is killing me, and they said he drugged me.”

“He gave you phenobarbital, enough to almost kill you.”

“How could he try to
kill
me? He's known me all my life.”

“We think he also killed your father.”

“
Why?
Why would he do that?”

“The DNA results are back, and you're a match to Mr. Rollings.” Sam said it quickly but succinctly. “Detective Watson from the Franklin police department in Tennessee is notifying the Rollings family as we speak. He said they're going to want to see you. How do you feel about that?”

“I... I suppose it's fine. They've waited a long time.”

“Yes, they have.”

“So what does that have to do with Dustin and my father's murder?”

“We think something went down thirty years ago in Knoxville when your family and Dustin lived there.”

“They never talked about living in Tennessee. I didn't even know they did. Is that weird?”

“It is, but it was also a difficult time in your parents' marriage. Did you know they separated for about six months?”

“No, I've never heard that either, and it surprises me. They were always so solid, or at least they seemed that way to me.”

“And your siblings never talked about Tennessee or your parents living apart?”

“No.”

“Your mother came right out and admitted to us the other night that you're adopted. They never told you that?”

“Nope,” he says with a bitter laugh. “I guess I was living totally in the dark in that family.”

“The odd thing is, Mark and Maura remember your mother being pregnant around that time, when they left Knoxville to move back to Virginia.”

“So what happened to that baby?”

“That's a very good question.”

* * *

T
HE
WAITING
FOR
something to happen was utter torture. Freddie was freezing, starving and exhausted. This totally sucked, especially because they had no control whatsoever over any part of this mission. It was being run by the West Virginia State Police, who were operating with an overabundance of caution in light of the fact that their person of interest was the FBI deputy director.

And as if there weren't enough law enforcement officers here already, the Feds had shown up half an hour ago, demanding to know why their deputy director's vacation home was surrounded by armed officers.

Thus, the standoff continued unabated in the fifth hour.

“How long are we going to stay here, Cap?” Gonzo asked, giving voice to Freddie's most pressing question.

“I don't know,” Malone said with a sigh. “It's turned into a three-ring circus.”

Another half hour passed in eerie, tension-filled silence before the incident commander from the West Virginia State Police left his post to come talk to them. He was halfway across the snow-covered yard when a shot rang out, striking the officer and knocking him off his feet.

All hell broke loose, with people shouting and return fire shattering the silence.

The officer who'd been hit crawled across the snow to where Freddie and the others from the MPD dragged him to safety.

“Hit my vest,” the man said through gritted teeth. “I'm okay.”

They propped him up against their SUV. He reached for his shoulder mic to check in with his team.

“Tell them we want Jacoby alive,” Malone said.

The officer conveyed the message. His radio crackled to life.

“Do we have the green light to go in, Cap? We've got a clear line on the back of the cabin, and the shot came from the front.”

He looked up at Malone who nodded. “We're not getting anywhere waiting him out,” Malone said.

“Go,” the captain said into the shoulder mic, grimacing with pain.

From their position, they couldn't see the action, but they could hear it. Shattering glass, wood splintering, shouts, gunshots. The whole thing seemed to happen in slow motion, but it only took about thirty seconds from the order to the report they'd been waiting for:

“We've got him.”

A few minutes later, Dustin Jacoby was marched from the cabin in handcuffs and leg chains and delivered to them over vociferous objections from the shell-shocked Feds.

Freddie wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but Jacoby was smaller than he'd thought he would be—maybe five-ten with a lean build and graying dark hair.

Ignoring the Feds, Malone and Cruz loaded Jacoby into their SUV for the ride back to the city. The West Virginia State Police team came to collect their captain.

Malone shook hands with the injured man. “Thanks a lot for the help. We owe you one.”

“Anytime,” he said, his face twisted in obvious pain.

As Freddie got into the backseat next to their prisoner, his phone chimed with a text from Elin.

They're reporting shots fired outside Jacoby's place. Tell me you're all right.

I'm good, and we got him. On the way back now.

Thank God.

Freddie's next text was to Sam.
We've
got
Jacoby.
On
the
way
back
now.
Got
a
little
hairy
there
for
a
minute
or
two.
He
fired
on
the
WVSP
and
it
went
downhill
fast
from
there.

Anyone hurt?

Their incident commander was hit in the vest. He's ok.

So Jacoby actually fired on you guys?

Yep.

Nothing says ‘I'm guilty' quite like firing on law enforcement.

No kidding. I get to sit next to him on the ride back. Good times.

Can't wait to hear what he has to say for himself. BTW, Josh is awake and I got to talk to him. He's confused about why Dustin would've taken him or killed his father. I told him about the DNA. The poor guy has a lot to contend with.

For sure. I'm glad he's awake anyway.

Yeah... Tell Malone to call me before he talks to Jacoby. I've got more.

Ok.

They rode back to the city in silence. Jacoby stared out the window the whole way and didn't utter a word to any of them, and Freddie fully expected the deputy director wouldn't willingly say anything to them. Ever.

* * *

“I
DON
'
T
UNDERSTAND
why I'm here,” Courtney Hamilton said. “My husband was murdered, and I'm being arrested? I was in Virginia all day Sunday. I had nothing to do with it.”

“We have some questions for you, and the Feds wouldn't let us near you,” Jeannie McBride said. “They gave us no choice but to take you into custody.”

“I spoke to Agent Hill and your chief the other night. I told them what I know.”

Working from the notes Sam had supplied from her trip to Knoxville, Jeannie said, “You didn't mention that you and your husband were separated for a time thirty years ago.”

“What in the world does that have to do with him being murdered?”

“I'll get to that. Why did you separate from your husband and take your children home to Virginia while he stayed in Knoxville?”

“That's our personal business, and it was thirty years ago. What does that have to do with anything?”

“We ask the questions, Mrs. Hamilton,” Tyrone said. “You answer them. That's how this works.”

“I don't understand what our temporary separation has to do with Troy's murder, but I left because we weren't getting along, and I didn't think it was good for my children to see us constantly fighting. We needed a breather.”

“And you were pregnant when you left Knoxville?”

Judging by the stunned expression on her face, she hadn't expected that question. “I... No, I wasn't pregnant.”

“Your children told our lieutenant that they remember you being pregnant when you moved back to Virginia,” Jeannie said.

“They're wrong. They were four and five years old.”

“They have distinct memories of you being pregnant with their younger brother Josh, but you told my captain and chief the other night that Josh was adopted. Can you explain that discrepancy?”

“I... Do I need a lawyer?”

“I don't know, Mrs. Hamilton, do you?”

She thought about that for a long moment, long enough that Jeannie began to believe she would lawyer up, effectively ending the conversation until her lawyer arrived. “I... I was pregnant,” she said softly. “I miscarried at six months.”

“And this was after you left Knoxville?”

She nodded. “The loss was devastating. Until yesterday, I'd never experienced anything so painful or heartbreaking. Thank goodness my mother was there to care for Mark and Maura because I couldn't do it. For a long time, I couldn't do a thing for them.”

Jeannie waited to see if she would say more, and her patience was rewarded.

“Troy knew how upset I was to have lost the baby, so when the admin in his office got pregnant out of wedlock he offered to adopt the child.”

“The administrative assistant in your husband's Knoxville office was Danielle Koch, is that correct?”

“Yes, Koch. That was her last name. I'd forgotten it.”

“Mrs. Koch told our officers this week that she's never been pregnant. She and her husband were unable to conceive.”

Courtney's mouth opened, and her lips twitched. “That... That's not possible. Josh, he was hers. He was Danielle's.”

“He was not Danielle's child. She's never given birth.”

“That's what she wants people to believe! She was ashamed. You aren't going to take her word over mine, are you?”

“Um, yes, Mrs. Hamilton, we are. She would have no reason to lie to us about whether she'd ever given birth to a child.”

“What reason do I have to lie to you?”

“I'm not sure, but I do know who actually gave birth to the child you raised as Josh.”

“Who?”

“Chauncey and Micki Rollings.”

“Who are they?”

Jeannie placed copies of several newspaper articles about Taylor's abduction on the table in front of Mrs. Hamilton and let them speak for her.

Courtney scanned the headlines before looking up at her, affecting a perplexed expression. “I'm afraid I don't understand. Troy and Dustin worked that case when they were in Knoxville, but I never met those people.”

“You raised their son.”

She recoiled in horror.

Jeannie couldn't tell if it was real or faked.

“You... That... That's not true! They looked for that baby everywhere for weeks. Troy and everyone in his office put in more than a hundred hours
straight
working that case. They didn't sleep or shower or eat. All they did was look for that baby!”

“Who was never found until this week when an age-progression photo was released to mark the thirtieth anniversary of the abduction.” Jeannie put that photo down in front of Courtney, who blanched at the sight of her son looking up at her. “Your son saw the photo and put two and two together to get the possibility that he might be Taylor Rollings.”

“What're you saying?” she asked softly, her lashes glistening with unshed tears.

“I'm saying that the child who was taken from the Rollings family was raised as Josh Hamilton. We'd like to know how he came to be in your custody.”

Jeannie watched as the other woman searched the archives of her life, as if looking for an explanation that Jeannie would believe.

“He... I... I'd like to call my lawyer now, please.”