Page 18 of Justice Delayed

Brogan turned down the A/C. “Yes.”

“Off the record?”

“Most definitely off the record.”

Tim sighed. “I’m assuming it was a local case?”

“Yes, happened in McLean, Virginia.”

“What’s the name and year?”

“Jesse Thompson, eighteen years ago.” Brogan resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the steering wheel as Tim clacked on a keyboard.

“This isn’t an unsolved kidnapping case.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Why are you looking into the kidnapping where the perpetrator was arrested, tried, and convicted?”

The very question Brogan had been asking himself. The answer most certainly did not lie in the fact that he couldn’t say a hard no to those beautiful yet haunting blue eyes. “I read the trial transcript, and some things didn’t quite add up.”

“Have you met Melender Harman?” Tim’s matter-of-fact question echoed in Brogan’s ear.

Fighting the urge to jack up the A/C again as heat inched up his neck and face, Brogan acknowledged the hit. “Yes, she’s the one who asked me to look into it with her.”

“I thought she would be out of prison by now.”

“She was released eight months ago.”

“That’s strange. She would have been eligible for parole after eight to ten years. Wonder why she served the entire sentence?”

“You met her too?”

“No, but I remember seeing her during the trial when I was working for the Fairfax County Court House media relations department. She always looked so bewildered and scared.”

“Guilty-scared or innocent-scared?” Brogan balanced his notebook on the steering wheel to jot down Tim’s comments for background. The more he learned about Melender, the more he’d be able to figure out the real story.

“My gut at the time said she had nothing to do with Jesse’s disappearance.” Tim paused. “Back then, I wasn’t in law enforcement, so I can’t say whether that was because she really wasn’t guilty or because I felt sorry for a kid who took off her shoes every chance she got.”

“You mean in court?”

“No, she came to court in shoes, but she would kick them off during recesses and anytime she went outside. This was in November, so it wasn’t freezing but still, it was rather strange.”

Brogan noted the story, then shifted the phone to his other shoulder. “She grew up in Maple Hollow, Virginia, in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains near the Shenandoah Valley. It’s so small, it doesn’t even show up on most maps.”

“Hold on a minute.” Tim muffled the receiver on his end, then came back on the line. “I’ve got to go. Did you need anything else?”

“Is there any chance I could take a look through the FBI files on the case?” Brogan could have filed a Freedom of Information Act form to see the documents, but he’d rather try to get the information quietly. A FOIA would proclaim his interest in the Thompson kidnapping to the world at large.

“Is that all?”

But Brogan heard acquiescence in Tim’s voice, not annoyance. “I could file a FOIA, and since the case is closed…” He left the thought unfinished.

“You’re right that a closed case means the files aren’t classified. However, I will need the official form on file.”

Brogan sighed. “I’ll email it to you this afternoon.”

“But don’t worry. I won’t log it into the system right away. There’s a huge backlog of those requests, so yours could easily get pushed down in the pile for a few weeks.”

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