Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 02 - Love Can Be Murder (16 page)

Just as she flipped back the top on the cat food can, Sally’s voice resonated in her ear. John’s office manager sounded a bit confused when she spoke, “Hi, Jo. This is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”

She cleared her throat and said, “Well … I feel awkward asking this, but do you know if John flew to Minneapolis yesterday?” Jo already knew the answer, but she needed to hear Sally say the words.

Jo gripped the phone tighter, waiting for Sally’s response. An irrational voice in her head said, Please say no. Tell me he’s just down the hall, safe in his office. This was all just a screwy mix-up.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone and then Sally answered, “Yes, I booked the flight and then drove him to the airport myself. Was there a problem?” Jo’s stomach churned.
So he had come, then.

Jo closed her eyes and said, “It appears he made it as far as my house, but I haven’t heard from him. Did you happen to book a hotel room for him?”

Sally sounded bewildered when she replied, “No, he said he would book a room himself, if, um, things didn’t go as well as he hoped when he saw you again.” Sally hesitated, and then said, “What do you mean, you think he made it as far as your house?”

The throbbing in Jo’s head increased, and she rubbed her temple. “I worked on a case last night and didn’t get home until late. I had no idea John was even coming. By pure luck, I found his luggage tag and his cell phone, but there was no other sign that he was here.”

Sally’s voice raised a few notes. “He left behind his cell phone? That makes no sense at all. I always give him a hard time about that phone. It’s an extension of his hand, for heaven’s sake. Jo, what are you not telling me?”

Jo was beginning to regret her call to John’s office manager. Sally obviously didn’t know anything and Jo had only succeeded in scaring the poor woman. She knew, however, any attempt to brush off Sally’s questions would lead to panic. Jo took a breath and said, “I ran into one of my neighbors who may have seen John leaving in a cab with another person. Does John know anyone else in the area that he might have gone to visit?”

“He’s had some business colleagues in the Cities over the years, but I can’t imagine he would run out to meet one of them when he was hell-bent on setting things right with you.”

Jo felt a stirring in her heart. “Really? Hell-bent?”

Sally’s voice was soft when she said, “Honey, that man has been a bear since you both decided to call things off.” Sally’s voice took on a stern tone, “What the hell were you two thinking, anyway? You think love like that happens to everyone? Anyone with half a brain can see you two are meant to be. The rest is just nonsense.”

In spite of her fears about John’s whereabouts, Jo found herself smiling at Sally’s words. “John always said the smartest thing he ever did was to hire you. I have to say, I couldn’t agree more.” Jo looked down at Cleo who wound around her legs, having finished her breakfast.

“Look, Sally, I’ve gotta go. I’ll let you know if I hear from John. Will you do the same?”

“Sure will. And, Jo?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t let that man slip through your fingers again. Do you hear me?”

Jo’s smile widened. “Yes, ma’am. And Sally, thanks for everything.” She clicked off the phone, feeling a little more hopeful. She wasn’t quite sure why. Sally certainly didn’t know anything more about John’s whereabouts. But she had shed some light on John’s feelings about their relationship.

Jo stood up and headed into the shower. Quickly, but carefully, she got ready for the day. It was important she look professional when she met with her boss this morning, because she had a feeling he would think her plan was most decidedly unprofessional.

* * *

Jo tapped on her boss’s doorframe and poked her head into his open office. “Tom, gotta minute?”

Tom Gunderson looked up from the papers scattered across his desk. There were dark circles under his eyes and a hank of his thick black hair hung down on his forehead. She couldn’t remember seeing her boss looking so harried before. “Schwann? Tell me you’ve gotten a break in the Freemont/McDonald cases. The governor just called and reamed me out. God, that man is obnoxious. You would think he was my boss.”

“Not just yet, but we’re making progress. Since both victims were moved from the original crime scenes, Frisco cross-checked the cleaning crew staff for the Capitol with that of the newspaper headquarters. So far, there doesn’t seem to be any commonalities.”

“Did the alibis for all the construction workers and the cleaning staff at the Capitol check out?”

Jo frowned. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

“And what about Freemont’s wife?”

“We’ve checked out the widow’s alibi and it’s airtight.”

Tom was thoughtful for a moment. “I presume you’ve checked into threats made against either one of them.”

Jo nodded. “We’ve been digging through the reams of hate mail both of our victims accumulated over the last six months.” Jo shook her head, still amazed at the vitriol the state representative and the op-ed columnist received on an almost weekly basis. “We’ve come across several letters that appear to have been sent by the same person to both of them. Of course, there was no return address and no fingerprints. And the postmarks are never the same, although they all originate in the metro area.”

“Any trace of DNA on the envelopes when they were sealed?”

Jo shook her head. “No, but we sent them on to the BCA lab. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll find some epithelial tissues from a paper cut or something. In the meantime, we’re still processing trace evidence found at the scenes and on the bodies. Not much to work with, but we’re due for a break.”

“Seems we’re dealing with one smart son-of-a-bitch. Thank God we haven’t had any more victims, though I don’t expect this nut-job is quite finished yet.”

“Yes, sir.” Jo shifted on her feet, unsure of how to broach her real reason for being in her boss’s office. “Um, Tom. There is something else I want to discuss with you.”

Jo took a deep breath and spoke quickly before she lost her nerve. “Look, something has come up and I would like to be reassigned to another case.”

Tom furrowed his brow. “Are you joking? The Freemont/McDonald cases are the most important thing this office has seen in years and you’re talking to me about changing mid-stream … what’s going on, Schwann?”

“Something’s happened to John.”

“What do you mean, something’s happened to him? If this is about your personal life, I …”

Jo interrupted, “Tom. Listen to me. John has disappeared. I have proof he came to visit me, but he’s disappeared into thin air. I have reason to believe he’s been kidnapped…”

“Maybe you should start from the beginning.”

Jo ran through everything she had discovered so far and Tom listened carefully, occasionally asking questions and jotting down notes.

When she had concluded her report, he said, “So, you want me to assign you to his case? Has it occurred to you that you are the
last
person who should handle this? You know that’s against regulations. You cannot be on a case when you are personally involved with the victim.”

Tom ran his hands through his hair. “Look, Jo, I’m sorry to hear about John. He’s a great guy and I know how much he means to you. And he’s done a hell of a lot of favors for the FBI. But I can’t put you in charge of the investigation of his disappearance.”

Even though Tom reacted the way she had expected, it still rankled that he wasn’t putting her on the case. Hot tears of frustration welled up in her eyes and she dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand to halt their progress. Between clenched teeth she said, “Tom, I chose this badge over John once before and I’ll be damned if I’ll make that same mistake twice. I’ll quit if I have to. But I will find him, with or without your support.”

Tom stood up from his desk and stared at her for a moment. Jo wondered what he would do, and part of her was worried he would accept her resignation.

Finally, he heaved a heavy sigh. “Schwann, you’re killing me. You know I’m not going to let you quit. Tell you what. We’re going to classify the investigation as a disappearance until we receive a ransom note or some other solid proof this is a kidnapping. That works out better for us. If it were a kidnapping, we’d have to let the state take the lead for twenty-four hours, until the Lindbergh Law kicks in. I don’t want to wait until we have to assume John was transported across state lines before we can take over.”

He held up a hand when Jo started to interrupt. “I’ll assign John’s case to Agent Daniels. You’ve worked with Daniels before and you know he’s the best we’ve got at working missing person cases. Would that satisfy you?”

Jo put her hands on her hips, not backing down from his stare. “Daniels is an arrogant jackass.
I
have to do this.”

Tom poked a finger in her direction. “And I’m telling you that even if I could assign this case to you, you would screw it up. You can’t expect to be objective, and you could jeopardize John’s life, you know.”

His words stopped Jo cold. Tom’s last words reminded her when they worked the NeuroDynamics case, she and John had both almost lost their lives because she was too personally worried about John’s welfare. Deep down inside a nagging voice said Tom was right.

Jo’s voice was weary when she mumbled, “Damn it.”

Tom pounced on the waver in her resolve. “You will be kept in the loop, of course. I’ll have Daniels update you every step of the way.” He grimaced and said, “He won’t thank me for it, mind you. Just promise me you’ll keep plugging away at the Freemont/McDonald cases and leave the rest up to Agent Daniels.”

Jo heaved a heavy sigh. The analytical part of Jo’s brain knew Tom’s plan had the best chance at finding John alive.
Doesn’t mean I like it.
“Not giving me much of a choice, are you?”

Tom smirked. “Nope. I’ll give Daniels the heads up, and then I want you to brief him and turn over all your notes as soon as humanly possible. We’ll find him, Jo. I promise you that.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Turners Bend

December

Chip realized he had two crimes running parallel in
Mind Games.
It was getting complicated, so he was working on a diagram in an attempt to keep them both on track. The phone startled him. He grabbed it and recognized Sharon’s voice on the other end. “Hi, Sharon, what’s up?”

“Your favorite FBI agent is here and requesting your presence. Actually it was more a command than a request; better get your keister down here pronto.”

* * *

I can’t believe I’m saying this Chief, but it looks like you and your ace crime writer are on to something here,” said FBI Agent Masterson.

Chip observed Masterson carefully as she spoke. He guessed she was ex-military. She was all spit and polish with nary a wrinkle, rarely a smile. No make-up on her face, no jewelry, and short cropped hair. She was small and wiry and gave the impression of being able to handle herself in hand-to-hand combat. At first he thought she was totally humorless, but occasionally he witnessed her razor-sharp wit. She said “ace crime writer” with just the right intonation to turn a compliment into sarcasm.

“Our lab has done an overlay of the diagram onto several types of maps of Iowa. One of the X’s is located in or near Turners Bend. Locations of the other four X’s have been determined and ‘Bingo,’ one of them is the Iowa City area where Tracy Trent was abducted. We now have local authorities checking all the abandoned buildings within a ten-mile radius of those locations. It’s going to take some time, but I think we’re on to something here, and it may lead us to a serial killer.”

She consulted her iPad, scrolling through screens until she found what she was looking for. “Your fabric swatches are surely related to this case. Our forensic people are analyzing them now, trying to trace them back to a manufacturer. So far nothing in their preliminary report. We are also following up on the milk delivery form. Apparently there are many drivers in the state who deliver to the areas we are searching. None of them have a criminal record, but we’ll investigate and interview all of them.” She turned to the chief. “No more mysterious mailings, I presume.”

“Not as of today’s mail, but we’ll keep a close look out,” he said. “Anything else we can do for you, Agent Masterson?”

“That’s it for now.” She turned toward Chip. “I’m warning you, Mr. Collingsworth, no meddling, no amateur sleuthing like you have been known to do.” She stood, preparing to leave. “By the way, I picked up
Brain Freeze
at the airport. Just published and flying off the shelf, I understand. The jacket blurb says it’s about a female FBI agent. Should be good for a laugh. Good day, gentlemen, I’ll be in touch.” She shook hands with both of the men, donned her mirrored sun glasses and departed without a smile.

The chief blew out a puff of air. “That woman intimidates the hell out of me, Chip. I need a decent cup of coffee. The stuff here tastes like mud from the bottom of Beaver Creek. Let’s head over to the Bun.”

* * *

Bernice was busy decorating the Bun for Christmas. The running lights around the front window looked like mice chasing each other. On every table she placed a snowman surrounded by fluffy fake snow. The radio was tuned to an all-holiday-music station and she sang along with “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.”

“We can serve ourselves, Bernice,” said Chip, as he went behind the counter, grabbed two mugs and filled them from the chrome coffee pot. He spied a copy of his new book, which had just been released on December 1st. “So what do you think of
Brain Freeze
, Bernice?”

“Well, I think you’re improving. It was a little on the gory side for me, but I do love the spunky FBI agent. Sort of part Jane and part Agent Masterson. And I’ll take the dashing Dr. Goodman, if it doesn’t work out with Jo. You know, he reminds me a lot of Lance. Don’t you think?”

Chip choked on a sip of coffee. He had almost forgotten everyone in Turners Bend was a literary critic. He got no end of advice when the town folks read
The Cranium Killer
, his first book, and he could expect no less with
Brain Freeze
. But the comparison between Lance and Dr. Goodman was more than he could take. “Lance, really?”