Page 99 of Justice Delayed

“It seems highly likely.” Livingston’s phone buzzed. “I need to get this.” The detective walked a few steps away and answered the call.

Melender was missing. Jesse’s body had finally been found, just yards from his home. Would everyone believe Melender had buried Jesse’s body in her own backyard? Or would the police try to uncover what really happened that night? Part of him itched to phone Fallon with an update, but he resisted. Finding Melender took top priority.

“Brogan!” Seth approached the table. “Fallon wants to know why you’re ignoring his texts and calls.”

Brogan had texted Seth about the accident while waiting to for the doctor to put in the stitches. Now he motioned for Seth to have a seat, then filled him in on what had happened.

“Melender’s missing?” Seth latched on to what concerned Brogan the most.

“Yes, we’re hoping the tech can clean up the photo enough that we’ll be able to ID her kidnapper and give us a clue as to where he might have taken her.” Brogan fidgeted with his empty coffee cup. “I don’t understand why he’d take her now. Whoever rammed into us already got the information Stabe left for us.”

Livingston returned to the table but didn’t sit down. “Stabe’s dead.”

“What?” Brogan couldn’t believe it. “How?”

“Shot in the head,” Livingston said. “It’s too soon to tell if it’s suicide or murder.”

Brogan jotted the info down in his reporter’s notebook. “Where was he found?

“At his condo a couple of hours ago. The body was still warm, so he hadn’t been gone long.” Livingston tapped his phone against his leg. “You said he called you this morning?”

“Yeah.” Brogan summoned his recall of the conversation. “Stabe was scared, said he thought someone was following him. Also said he didn’t think he had much time.”

“Time for what?” Livingston asked.

“Wouldn’t say.” Not for the first time, Brogan wished he’d kept Stabe talking.

“Did he say anything else?” Livingston pressed.

“Just that he’d left something for me at reception at his law office, and I’d better go get it fast.” Brogan shoved a hand through his hair and winced as the movement pulled at his stitches. Fatigue pressed down on him as if the news of Stabe’s death had released an avalanche and his body couldn’t handle the additional news. The car accident. Stabe’s death. Infant remains recovered on the Thompson property. Melender missing. The only thing he cared about was finding Melender.Please, God, keep her safe!

Carstairs rejoined them. “Sasha’s got the photo ready.”

Brogan rose, along with Seth, and they followed Carstairs and Livingston to the security suite. Sasha didn’t look up when they entered the room with the bank of computer monitors.

“Here you go.” She pointed to an enlarged photo of a man, his features a little blurry.

“Recognize him?” Carstairs asked.

Livingston squinted at the screen. “There’s something about him that looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him.”

“Can you run it through facial recognition software or something?” Seth queried.

“You’ve been watching too many cop TV shows. The Feds have access, but we have to have a pretty high-profile case to ask them for that kind of favor,” Livingston said. “Can you print out a half dozen copies and email me the file?”

Carstairs nodded his approval, then Sasha hit the print button. “What’s your email address?”

As Livingston rattled it off, Brogan leaned closer to the screen. The man’s unremarkable features tickled something in his brain. He’d seen him before. Not recently, but back in his past. He focused his entire attention on the screen and blocked out the conversation around him. An image of a Washington, DC, Christmas party coalesced in his mind. He’d been there to meet his source for the charity story that ended his journalism career. While seeking a quiet place to talk, Brogan and his source had stumbled upon the man who had kidnapped Melender deep in conversation with a senator.

Pulling up the senator’s name from memory, Brogan pointed to the screen. “That looks like Senator Johnston’s former guy.”

Livingston turned to him. “Who?”

“I think he worked for United States Senator Johnston from Virginia. I saw him and the senator talking at a party a decade or so and asked someone who he was.” Brogan concentrated on dredging up more information from the long-ago party.

When Brogan didn’t immediately continue, Livingston prodded, “And did you find out?”

The name came to Brogan in a flash. “John Smith.”

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