Page 83 of Facing the Enemy
She tapped her finger on the tabletop. “Okay. Whoever wrote the note threatened my parents, you, and friends if I didn’t resign from the FBI. I tried to resign, but SAC Dunkin offered another solution, and that was a leave of absence. The arrangement would be confidential. I had access to secure sites, and if my research would reveal my status, then he retrieved the information for me. I’m very appreciative of how he’s helped since some of the higher-ups probably didn’t approve.” She took a sip of water. “The combination of grief, guilt, and threats to others affected me physically, mentally, and spiritually.”
“I’d have done the same thing.” I needed to come clean with her too. “I know how you operate and how others’ welfare comes before yours.”
“Taking a leave to protect others and allowing them to believe I resigned served multiple purposes—for me to find healing, pacify the killer, and investigate on my own meant I could track down the killer. Vengeance played a huge motivator. It didn’t help matters when I had no clue who was responsible, and as each day passed with no evidence or leads, I sank deeper into depression. My parents were the only ones besides the SAC who knew the truth. We’ve kept in contact through burner phones. They supported me, but I despise that they’ve had to grieve alone. Right now they are in Charleston for an extended stay until this is over.”
“I wish you’d have told me the contents a whole lot sooner. I had no clue about it except the grief.”
“Note, I haven’t done well in figuring out who’s behind my brother’s death.”
“We can figure this out together. I hate what you’ve been through alone.” I squeezed her hand. “I’m here now. You have all of me. Remember I love you.”
Her lips lifted in a smile. “Those three words mean more to me than you’ll ever know, the best three words in the English language.”
“Absolutely. Where are your thoughts since you’ve decided to return to the FBI?”
“Teaching hasn’t been a bad experience, and most of the time, the kids are great. Honestly, Gage, I missed the challenges ... andworking right beside you.” She shrugged. “I took seeing you every day for granted. I know we’ll need to figure this—”
“Not today, honey. One step at a time. During those months, I felt like I’d lost an arm or a leg. Good will come of this.”
“It already has. We’re together now.” She glanced at the keyboard. “Gage, if I hadn’t made those choices, I wouldn’t have met Carson, and we wouldn’t be together. Or closer to finding the killer and who’s behind the Addingtons’ case.”
“God has your back.”
“And yours. I think our prayers to find who’s responsible for crimes are dangerous, but dangerous prayers are the ones that bring truth.”
“When Jack and I teamed up and I continued investigating your brother’s death, the evidence seemed to swallow up. Nothing made sense until now.”
“The Addingtons’ baby abduction and the unraveling of an operation that appears to make money through illegal private adoptions and murder show us a ruthless ring,” she said. “I can’t help but hope—and pray—we are able to find justice.”
“Add to what we’ve learned, and you’ve seen the files—we’d be nowhere if not for the hospital in Des Moines contacting the FBI.”
Risa typed. “I read the interview transcript from the Wades. The illegal private adoption agency disappeared, and you’ve uncovered several players in that operation.”
“Right. The Wades gave us their—”
“Give me their names and roles slowly,” she said. “Everyone and everything. I’ll place my findings in chronological order.”
I pulled up my phone to make sure I didn’t leave anyone out. “Ethan Mercury was blackmailed to hand over client information. Before I forget it, I’m giving him your new burner number.” I sent the info to Ethan on the private burner and glanced back to Risa. “How many others have been victimized?”
“Far too many.”
We stopped for our omelets. As soon as she finished, Risa turned her laptop for us to view the screen together. Call it luck or a blessing, we still sat secluded in our corner booth.
“Whoever targeted me believed I had incriminating information that was worth killing me to keep quiet,” she said. “Brain fog stalks me, but if I interviewed anyone regarding a crime or went to a crime scene alone, the data would be there. I’m lost, Gage.”
I pushed aside my plate. “With all we have, I feel downright stupid that something doesn’t jump out at us. Three threatening notes and right now we know two of the three handwriting matches. And I’m the first to admit not all handwriting is identifiable. Risa, you’re the one with the higher IQ. What do you see other than the security breach with Mercury Alarms?”
She rolled her eyes. “I only wish I had the intellect to give you the right answer.”
A text landed in my inbox, and I pulled it up to read before turning my attention back to Risa. “Norman Peilman’s pistol, a Beretta semiautomatic, was used in the murder of a crime-syndicate victim in New York City three years ago. It was believed Peter Florakis had done the hit.”
“Looks like Peilman and Florakis had been working together for a while,” she said. “We have connections in Houston, Des Moines, New York City, and possibly Columbus, Ohio, where Emily Lock is wanted for questioning.” Risa rested her chin in her palm. “The adoptive parents of these children believe those little ones are theirs. Even if they suspect or know their child came by illegal means, they won’t come forward and risk losing a child they call their own.”
“Jack and I talked about that very thing, and you and I have experienced the same scenario. The FBI in Des Moines has reached out publicly not only to those who adopted through Your Heart for Adoption Agency but to those who were scammed and denied a child.”
“Results? Where is that in the file?” Risa said. “I’ve read through it repeatedly.”
“Good question.” I glanced at the time before making the call to the Des Moines ASAC. “Give me a moment while I find out, then we probably should hit the road.”
