Page 70 of Facing the Enemy
I brewed a fresh pot of coffee and searched for more data on Emily Lock. The woman, age twenty-five, had mastered disguises. Her real identity showed long blonde hair and blue eyes. The Wades knew Emily Lock with long auburn hair and green eyes. Another pic showed her in spiked blonde hair and blue eyes, and still another with dark-brown hair worn in a shoulder-length style and huge glasses. Curiosity got the best of me, and I pulled up the security-cam footagefrom the church where Trenton’s service was held. Emily Lock had placed the threatening note on my car.
Gage’s report named more players in Des Moines. I placed the name of Harvey Sinclair into software that used technology more advanced than any human brain to connect and link names and places. How many were on the payroll here in Houston? Did those involved move from city to city? Possibly. I jotted down Norman Peilman, the man from Canada who’d attempted to run Carson and me off the road. I clicked the app and waited.
An operation as large as what I suspected we were dealing with meant well-paid attorneys who ensured employees had their rears covered.Their rears covered.I sounded like Gage. He had rubbed off on me in a very good way. Loved that man to the moon and back, as my grandma used to say. I leaned my head back against the chair and massaged neck muscles. Stress never brought an investigation to a close.
I needed to unpack my carry-on. The idea of leaving dirty clothes in a piece of luggage disgusted me. I walked to my bedroom and unzipped my bag. I gathered up my clothes and deposited them in the laundry room. Next came my toiletries. I carried them into my bathroom. The shower curtain stood partially open. A towel lay on the floor, evidence I wasn’t alone. In my bedroom, the closet door was ajar an inch. My apartment lock hadn’t been tampered with or I’d have noted it when I returned home.
I viewed the mirror for someone who might be behind me. Sweat beaded my forehead, and my heart ached with the incessant pounding. My home had been violated.
Sickening dread washed over me. They could be viewing me through the scope of a gun, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
Dumping my toiletries in the sink, I slowly returned to the living room and lifted my Glock from my purse. I chambered a round and aimed my firearm into the closet.
“FBI. Come out with your hands up.”
Quiet met me. I kicked the door open and flipped up the closetlight. Empty except for my belongings. I strode into the second bedroom, stood to the side of the closet door, and repeated my warning. Empty there too.
I returned to the bathroom and swept aside the shower curtain.
Luke Reardon’s severed head lay in the bathtub sitting on a blue baby blanket.
37
GAGE
Lynn Mercury demanded my attention on the phone before she’d leave her home with agents to a safe house. I repeated what Ethan had told her with reassurance that we’d protect him from harm. Finally she agreed.
The initial comps of Carson’s and Ethan’s handwriting showed no likeness to the previous notes. The only match continued to be the notes left on Risa’s car and Jack’s wounded body. At this point, Carson’s psych eval would be handled at the safe house. For certain, the family would need counseling when this ended. Poisoned thoughts could destroy the strongest person.
I introduced Carson to the agents who’d been assigned to escort him to a safe house where his mother and brother awaited him. I wanted the kid to feel secure with the agents.
After Ethan compiled the list of his clients’ security information that he’d given to Smith, I downloaded the list to research who had already been victimized and the type of crime. While I had a huge list of tasks penciled into my day, acting swiftly on those victims exposed to crimes was critical.
Thirty-seven names of people and businesses, addresses, phonenumbers, and security codes opened the door to multiple felonious activities. John Smith’s demands spread across twenty states.
In the privacy of my cubicle, I waited for my laptop to refresh with the crimes previously committed from Ethan’s list and if any had resulted in arrests or convictions. I sat back and studied the screen. How did the scammers know where to find the homes of babies? They must have inside people watching social media for birth announcements. Most people didn’t realize the danger of geo-location on their posts.
Twelve baby abductions. Only the Addingtons’ baby recovered.
Seven drugstores robbed of opioids.
Seven couples who were scammed by a fraudulent adoption agency. Each taken for forty thousand dollars plus the birth mother’s additional expenses.
Eleven crimes were yet to happen. Or were happening. Or had happened, and those victimized hadn’t come forward.
I walked back to the interview room and assured Ethan he wouldn’t be detained much longer. “Remember all we’ve talked about. If John Smith contacts you, I want you to get back to me ASAP. In the morning, another agent and I will discuss how to handle any meetups with Smith. I want the passwords changed for every client you’ve given to Smith before you leave here. Text me when it’s done.”
“Yes, sir.” Ethan’s worn features showed he’d spent a lot of sleepless nights. An agent escorted him to the reception area while he retrieved his phones, cautioning him to be careful of what he said to anyone.
My phone alerted me to a call from Risa. She’d phoned about an hour ago, but I couldn’t talk then. Interviewing the two gang members in custody might have to wait until three o’clock. I answered Risa’s call.
“Hey, I’ve meant to call you all day.”
“Gage, the police are here.” She sounded strange ... off.
“What’s going on?”
“I visited Jack. He’s heavily sedated and couldn’t stay awake. Healluded to a suspect and that I should talk to Luke. I didn’t know what he meant.”
