Dirty Rotten Scoundrel (15 page)

“But nothing was ever proven,” I said. “What happened with Boxer?”

“Every time he has leave he spends it with Spencer, and when his last tour was up he turned in his retirement papers and went to join her. They never married but they were together up until his death during the heist. She was questioned extensively, but it was postponed because she had to be hospitalized and sedated when she got the word of Boxer’s death. She spent more than a year in a mental institution, uncommunicative. Investigators never could get in to question her, and by the time a year had passed there wasn’t really any point because the case had been closed.”

“We need to talk to Paris
Spencer.” I ran my fingers through my hair and blew out a breath of frustration.

“Yeah, we need to talk to Paris
Spencer. But Carver says she’s in France and the chances of getting her here are slim. She hasn’t set foot in America since Boxer was killed, though fresh flowers show up on his grave once a month.”

“We need to go back tonight, Jack. Wake up Carver and tell him he can either drive us back or we’re taking a cab.” I pulled off the tank and boxers I’d put on to sleep in and grabbed clothes out of my bag.

“It can’t wait five hours?”

“I missed something. I need to look at those photographs again.”

He sighed and closed his computer. “You’ve got that look on your face, so I’m not going to try and argue. Let me call Carver and see what he wants to do.”

I nodded and put on jeans and a Georgetown University sweatshirt. I didn’t much care what Carver wanted to do. I was going back to Virginia tonight whether he wanted
me to or not.

“My wife has some choice words to say to you, Jack,” Carver said once we were back on the road. “The baby was actually asleep and there wasn’t a toddler between us in the bed. Do you realize how rare that is? Not to mention she got her six week report back and she was all in the clear.”

“I don’t mean to let murder interrupt your sex life.”

“And if things get violent when she has those words with you I’m not going to do anything to stop it. I’ll just stand back and watch. And I’ll enjoy it, you bastard.”

“Would you be this cranky if you weren’t getting to have sex with me?” I asked Jack, curiously.

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t had to go without, and the couple rounds we had earlier will probably hold me through tomorrow.”

“I hate you,” Carver said, making my lips twitch. “
You just wait until you have kids. Maybe I’ll go poke holes in all your condoms just to help you along.”

“You’ve got issues, Carver. I have no idea what the FBI psych profiler would have to say about that.”

“He’d say I need to get laid. Why was it again that we needed to leave in the middle of the night?”

“There’s something that’s been bothering me about the autopsy reports on Jack’s men. I need to study them closer. In particular, I need to study the reports on Andrew Caine a little closer. Something isn’t right there.”

The drive back to Bloody Mary seemed to take forever and I tapped my fingers against my leg and stared out into the darkness while Jack and Carver talked up front. I noticed the tail as soon as we crossed into King George County.

“It’s Donaldson,” Carver said. “He’s going to follow us in. Greer was able to pin down a location for Jesse Tydell while we were gone. He’s got undercover agents keeping an eye on him. We’re hoping he’ll make contact with other members of the gang and we can take them all.”

“The gang members are the killers,” I said. “We know that without a doubt. But they acted as the weapons. They’re just a small part of the puzzle. The gang is the metaphorical bullet but someone else is pulling the trigger. Whoever that is is just as guilty of murder as the Vagos gang.”

Carver sighed. “
Right. We just have to find them first. I’m going to see what I can do about bringing in Paris Spencer. We need to talk to her.”

Donaldson’s lights were bright behind us as we finally made our way into Bloody Mary. Nerves dampened the palms of my hands, and I dried them quickly on my jeans. I didn’t like the thought that there could be someone out there watching and waiting for Jack right now. Our home was supposed to be safe, but it didn’t feel that way anymore.
I wouldn’t breathe easier until we were inside with the doors locked behind us.

It only took another ten minutes or so until the house came into view. Carver parked in the garage and we went in through the mudroom door, but I didn’t wait on them to do a walkthrough of the house. I went straight to the offices and to the table where I’d been combing through the autopsy reports.

“Just give me a minute,” I said, when they came in behind me. “I just need some quiet.”

“Carver and I will be in the kitchen making coffee.” And they left me alone.

I lined up the crime scene photos next to each other on the table and put the reports beneath
them, reading through them all again. I saved Caine’s until last and by that time I knew what had been bothering me.

“Jack,” I called out.

“We’re here,” he said. I hadn’t even realized they’d been back in the room sitting at their own tables. He handed me a cup of coffee but I put it aside.

“We’
ve got eight murders if you take out Elliott, who Jack killed during the heist, and Winters who died in the car crash. Those are the only two anomalies.” I took a second to group them together. “We’ve got Wallace, Santos, and Gonzales with the same cause of death. Two gunshot wounds to the back of the head with a large caliber weapon. Testing proved that it came from a .357 Magnum with hollow point bullets. I don’t know the results of Wallace’s findings yet, but that was my assumption when I worked on his body. The weapon is going to be a match among all three. One killer took them out.

“Next we’ve got Dreyer and Thompson.” I grouped their pictures together and then added Wolfe’s next to them. “We’ve got the same thing here. Same cause of death for Dreyer and Thompson, and
the same attempt that happened with Wolfe earlier today. Long range shots from a sniper rifle. The shots were taken by someone highly skilled, and they were kill shots. We got lucky today with Braddock and Wolfe. The weapon and caliber of the bullet are the same. This is going to be Jesse Tydell’s work. He’s your marksman.

“Moving on to the next group.” I arranged the next two pictures together. “We’ve got Price and Garfield with the same cause of death.
Slit throat. A fluid motion from left to right, severing the jugular at the entry point. The wound was deep, indicating the strength of the killer, and the angle of the wound indicates the assailant was around the same height as Price and a couple of inches taller than Garfield. He was also right handed since it was a left to right motion.”

I grabbed a step stool and moved behind Carver to demonstrate.

“Oh, man. I hate being the test dummy.”

“Be thankful I’m not using real props.” I grabbed him by the hair and pulled his neck back to expose his throat. “It had to have been fast, considering the size of the victims. Come up behind them out of the blue. It’s a skill. And the depth of the wound showed how strong the killer was. T
he knife nicked the C4 vertebra in both victims, almost taking their heads off. So you’ve got gang member number three as the killer here. They all have their own MOs.”

“What about Caine?” Jack asked. “His throat was slit too.”

I went back to the table and my photos. “It sure was, but not like Garfield and Price. Caine was found dead in a motel in the Trinidad area of DC. That’s a bad part of town, and word was that Caine was supposed to meet with an informant. He was found in the bed, stripped of all clothing, with his throat slit and other shallow hack marks along the torso. His wallet and any valuables were missing from the scene. No fingerprints, and there’s so much DNA in a room like that it wouldn’t be admissible anyway.”

“I feel like I’m missing something obvious,” Carver said.

“The wound doesn’t match,” I said, showing the crime scene photo of Caine. “It’s a shallower slice, nowhere near close enough to nick vertebra. And see how there’s a jagged edge in the flesh here and here?” I pointed to the two offending spots. “The assailant wasn’t nearly as strong. It was a struggle to tear through the arteries and nick the jugular. It wasn’t even severed all the way, but it was enough for him to bleed out. This was done face to face, in very close contact.”

“Damn,” Jack said, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was a woman. Crime of passi
on, and in the middle of it too. Poor bastard.”

“They didn’t finish,” I
said, nodding. “Vaginal fluid was found and collected for DNA but tests show they didn’t finish the deed. Not only was it a crime of passion, but she was majorly pissed. See these shallow wounds in the chest? These happened perimortem. She would’ve been covered in blood from head to toe.”

“Do you think there’s a chance Paris
Spencer had a connection with Caine?” Jack asked.

“
I know she did,” Carver said, going back to his own table and rifling through stacks of paper. “Before Spencer had her nervous breakdown there was a police report filed by some of Caine’s neighbors. Caine was the only one of the team interviewed on television after Boxer and the others were killed. It seems Paris tracked him down and there was some kind of altercation before the police arrived. She disappeared before the police got there, and Caine didn’t know who she was at the time—only that she was a young woman, late twenties or early thirties, with long straight blond hair and blue eyes. Cops were stretched thin so when Paris tried to slit her wrists less than an hour later the connection wasn’t made until she’d already been admitted to psych lockdown.

“
This is good stuff, Doc. Enough that I can have Paris Spencer transported across international waters for questioning.”

“The knife wound moved from right to left,” I said.

“Left-handed killer. Paris Spencer is left handed.” Carver smiled. “That information was almost worth missing a night of hot sex for. I’ll alert Greer and we’ll meet here first thing in the morning for a briefing.”

“Then we’d better get some sleep,” Jack said, taking my hand and pulling me toward the door. “Have I ever told you how hot it makes me to watch that brain of yours work?” He leaned down and kissed
the sensitive spot below my ear.

“Oh, ma
n. Why don’t you just rub it in?” Carver complained. “If I hear sex noises coming from your room tonight, I’m going to start shooting through the wall and hope it hits you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to keep her mouth occupied.” I snorted out a laugh and Jack tossed me over his shoulder and ran up the stairs.

The alarm went off at half past five and I groaned and buried my head under the pillow, pretending it would go away.

“Rise and shine, Doc.”

“I’ve never understood how you can be so cheerful in the mornings without coffee.”

“It’s a gift. I have many.”

I snorted out a laugh and threw off the covers. It was still dark outside, but the house would be swarming with agents before much longer. I sat up on the side of the bed and stretched, rotating my neck to alleviate the stiffness. There hadn’t been much time for sleep the last two days.

Jack was already showered and dressed and he sat down next to me
. “Let me see your back.”

I turned and then let out a moan as his fingers worked magic up and down my spine and between my shoulder blades.

“That right there is totally worth marrying you for,” I said between moans.

“That’s not what you said last night.” His hands snaked around and palmed my breasts before going back to the massage.

“Well, maybe I can think of a couple other reasons.”

“Do you want breakfast?”

“It depends. Are you making it?”

“Well, I want to not die of food poisoning or have
to rebuild my kitchen if you burn it down, so yes, I’m making it.”

“In that case, I’d love some breakfast. And a pot of coffee.”

“What are you going to do when there’s a coffee shortage in the world and you have to do without?”

“I’m going to expect my rich husband to pay whatever he has to so I don’t kill anyone when I wake up in the mornings without it.”

“You’re very violent without your caffeine. It’s very sexy.”

“I only have to breathe for you to think it’s sexy.”

“You speak the truth,” he winked. “Grab your shower and meet me downstairs before I make us both late.”

He slipped out of the bed
room and closed the door behind him, and I realized I had a ridiculous smile on my face. I rolled my eyes and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

It was foolish of me, but I knew Lauren would be joining us for the meeting so I took more time with my appearance than normal. I blow dried my hair so it lay smooth around my face and I messed with my eyes some to make them look bigger, more exotic, and put a hint of color in my cheeks.

There was no point in trying to compete with her in the wardrobe department. My closet consisted of old comfortable jeans and T-shirts and business suits I wore at the funeral parlor. Expensive clothes were wasted in my profession because so many got ruined if I had to go to a crime scene or while I was doing an embalming.

I selected gray slacks and a
purple wrap shirt that made it look like I had more boobs than I actually did, and then I sighed as I tried to decide on footwear. There was no point strangling my feet in icepick heels. I needed to be practical, and there was no way I could go a whole day wearing them without falling on my face. I decided on flat black half-boots I’d gotten on clearance the summer before and figured that was as good as it was going to get.

I went downstairs without a backward glance at the mirror and headed toward the smell of coffee and bacon.

“Good timing,” Jack said, turning from the stove. His eyebrows raised at the sight of me and I felt self-conscious all of a sudden. I almost turned around and went back upstairs to wipe the stupid makeup off and change clothes, but Jack got that look in his eye that made my skin tingle.

He took the pan off the stove and turned the burner off and then walked toward me. No, stalked would be more accurate.

“I like that shirt. A lot. I especially like what’s underneath it.”

“You’ve seen what’s underneath it a thousand times.”

“That doesn’t mean I ever get tired of it.” His hands curved around my waist and he kissed me.

“Am I interrupting something?” Carver said from the doorway.

“No—”

“Yes—” Jack said.

“I smelled bacon. If you’d like, the two of you can just keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll eat all the bacon. Seems like a fair trade.”

“If you eat all that bacon
, your wife is going to have your head,” Jack said, releasing me with a final kiss on the forehead. He went directly to the coffee pot and poured me a cup, handing it over as I took a seat on one of the barstools.

“She’ll be able to smell it on me for days,” Carver agreed, shaking his head sadly. “This is what marriage does to you. No sex and no bacon. It’s just not right.”

My lips twitched as a plate of eggs, bacon, and fluffy biscuits and gravy were put in front of me. “Maybe you should try to combine the two. It sounds like what you need are better time management skills.”

“I’m not going to lie,” Carver said, chewing thoughtfully. “The though
t of combining those two things is very appealing. If I could have sports playing on the TV in the background it would be even better.”

“Carver, I have a favor to ask.” I pushed my plate away and fisted my hands in my lap.

“This sounds serious.” He looked between me and Jack, but Jack stayed silent and let me do the talking.

“Very serious.”

I took in a deep breath but it didn’t really help. I knew my father was guilty of a lot of things, but it still felt like what I was about to do was some kind of betrayal. But I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. Especially me.

“I know that you have a job to do and I don’t want to take advantage of your friendship, but I have some items that I’d like you to look into. Discretely
, if possible. I know you won’t be able to keep it a secret from the FBI, but I’d like you to be the one to look at them. Maybe it’s not as bad as I think it will be and I’m overreacting. But I have to make sure.”

“This is about your father?” he asked, going very still. “Why would I have interest in a dead man? Sometimes it’s best to leave things buried, Jaye. But you didn’t hear that bit of advice from me.”

“Believe me, I wish I could.”

I realized maybe it was best not to say anything about my father’s return from the grave. Especially since that guilt was gnawing a hole in my stomach. He was still my dad, blood not withstanding. I could give him the flash drives and wait and see if what was on them made my father a current threat. I looked at Jack and realized by the look he was giving me that he’d already deduced what I was going to do. He shrugged and left the decision up to me.

I realized I wasn’t only doing this for me, but I was doing it for Jack as well. Jack believed in the law. And if I kept this hidden and something bad happened because I didn’t speak up when I should have it would drive a wedge between us that could never be repaired.

“I found some things that belonged to my father. A few flash drives. Jack says they’re encrypted, so I thought you might be the best person to look at them.”

Carver sighed. “There’s a separate team of agents who have been working the case on your parents for the last couple of years. Technically, anything related to the case should go to them.”

“I know. I’ve met those agents up close and personal, and it’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever step into their path again after the way they treated me. I’m giving them to you because it’s the right thing to do. But if I don’t have another option I’d just as soon throw them in the fire
than hand them over to anyone else. I need to know what’s on there. What if the information could save a life?”

“And what am I supposed to do if I find something bad on those flash drives? I can’t keep it from the agent in charge of the case. And don’t expect there to not be anything on those flash drives. They wouldn’t be encrypted if there wasn’t a good reason.” Carver pushed back his plate and got to his feet. Carver wasn’t one to get agitated or have a bad mood for long. He used good humor and jokes to deal with the
terrible things he saw in his line of work.

“I know that,” I said
softly. “I wouldn’t expect you to. I want to give them to you because I trust you. I know Malachi and Angela Graves are just another set of criminals to you. They’re nothing more than names with a thick file. But they were my parents. I just want to know what was on those flash drives, and if I have more to worry about once you find out.”

“You totally ruined my bacon experience,” Carver said, pouting a little. He sighed
and slapped me on the back good-naturedly. “I’ll look at them. And I’ll give you a heads up once I turn the information over to the team in charge. But if you want some free advice from me, it might be best if you and Jack take a nice long honeymoon. Somewhere tropical maybe.”

“Thanks, Ben. I mean it.”

“I’d say anytime, but next time you find something like those flash drives you should probably go with your gut and throw them in the fire.”

A knock sounded at the door and Jack pushed his plate back. “That’ll be Greer and the other agents. Looks like it’s time to get started.”

“I’ll get it,” I said.
“You get the flash drives for Carver.”

I went to the front door and opened it for Agent Greer.
Lauren Rhodes stood beside him along with Donaldson, and two agents I hadn’t seen before, but I was surprised to see Sam Wolfe in their midst. I checked his color and his pupils automatically. He was a little pale, but he seemed to be standing on his own okay.

I stood aside and they all filed in and headed to the office. Jack and Carver came in behind us.

“How’s Agent Braddock?” I asked Greer.

“Thanks to you
, he’s alive. He’s still in critical condition, but they think his chances look good. Carver tells me you had a bit of a breakthrough last night with the autopsy reports. Why don’t you go through it for us, and then I’ll give an update on my end.”

Carver had found an empty board from somewhere for my use, and I started tacking up the pictures in the groupings I’d put them in the night before. I explained what I’d found about
the three methods of killing and the three different killers. And then I explained the difference in Andrew Caine’s murder.

“So what we have here is tiers of killing,” I said. “We’ve got three members of the Vagos. Hired killers with three different methods—execution style shots to the head,
a deep cut across the throat with a smooth edged blade, and a long range sniper. I read the reports on the Vagos and it’s a competition to them for status and ranking within the organization. That’s why you have the varying methods and multiple killers. Jesse Tydell is your sniper.”

“And he’s going to be the most dangerous because you can’t see him,” Lauren said. She leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest while she was thinking. “The other two like it up close and personal. They like the hunt and overpowering their victim before they use their method of killing to end their life.
”

“Exactly,” I said, nodding.

“And then we have killer number four with Caine,” Jack said. “Different MO. Evidence points to a woman. This was a crime of passion, also up close and personal, but for a different reason. There was anger in this kill. We need to find out everything we can about Caine’s personal life. All the women he’s dated or been seen with.”

“That could take years,” Carver said. “The man liked his women.”

“Then start with whoever was most current and work backwards. Women usually know if the man they’re sleeping with is also hopping beds with others.”

“Do we have names of Jesse Tydell’s Vagos associates?” I asked. “Those
that fit the kill descriptions?”

“We sure do,” Greer said.
He tacked two more photographs up on the criminal board. “Lester Grimm served in the Gulf War with Tydell and was recruited into the Vagos by him. Grimm lost his entire troop in a convoy that was bombed and he was left for dead. He had severe brain trauma and lost partial hearing. He spooks at the sound of gunfire, so his weapon of choice is a stainless steel Buck Knife with a nine-inch blade. We haven’t had a sighting of Grimm in more than a year, but I have a feeling he’s close by. Jack and Wolfe are the last kills on their list. Like Doctor Graves said, it’s a competition and they’re in it to win. Our profiler report says that the addition of federal agents and heightened police awareness will only add points to their game.”

Greer pinned a second picture on the board next to Grimm. This one was a formal shot of an officer in dress blues.
A handsome man with a serious look on his face as he posed for the shot. “This is Greg Lassiter. He was an illegals detective in LA. Worked undercover for a while, but it went south. His wife and daughter were murdered because of it, and the Internal Affairs investigation discovered there was a leak on the inside in Lassiter’s department and the mole handed over Lassiter and his family to the dealers.

“
Lassiter killed the cop responsible and then went off the grid. He was prime pickings for the Vagos, considering his disillusionment for law enforcement. He moved up the ranks quickly and was sent to head up his own territory in Chicago. The .357 Magnum he uses to kill his victims is symbolic. When he was on the force back in the 90s, that was his service revolver.