Page 15 of 3rd Tango
He gives me a look that suggests there’s something he wants to tell me, but a glance at Haley, then toward my office, has him pushing it aside. “Can you do lunch or not?”
It’s barely eleven. “Even with your help over the weekend, I’m behind on two pressing cases. Is it critical? Could we discuss it tonight over dinner?”
He clamps his jaw shut, starts to say something, then clamps it shut again. He glances at his watch. “I’ll probably be busy until five or six. I’ll swing by after that if I can.”
There’s definitely something he wants to discuss, but not in front of Haley. “We can use Meg’s office,” I suggest, too curious to let this go, “if that would help.”
Silent communication flows between us, and I know he’s considering it. Then he shakes his head. “It can wait until tonight. Sorry for barging in.”
He leans forward and brushes a kiss on my forehead before turning and walking out.
Haley stares after him, her eyes dreamy. “You are so lucky, Charlie.”
“Wipe the drool from your mouth.” I start back down the hallway and Alfonzo pops out of my office. I smile at him. “Apologies for that.”
He motions toward the front. “Everything okay?”
Maybe. “Fine. Would you like some coffee? We can continue our meeting.”
I hear a ring and the back door opens, Meg and Jerome filing in. “Sorry, I’m late,” Meg calls out.
Once again, I make introductions. I motion for Al to return to my office, but he shakes his head. “I have to skedaddle. Nice to meet you, Meg, Jerome.” He nods at each of them. “Let me know if you have questions about the file,” he tells me. “Or if there’s more I can do to help.”
He smiles and leaves us standing in the hallway.
“Don’t forget about the job offer,” I call after him.
He waves over his shoulder, says good-bye to Haley, and walks out. I like that he’s nice to our receptionist.
Meg and Jerome follow me into my office. “That’s Alfonzo?” Meg asks, dropping her purse on the floor and commandeering the chair Al just left. Jerome takes the other.
“He brought information about the three women found in Virginia.” I flick a glance at Jerome, then back to Meg. Jerome is not part of our team, nor is he law enforcement or a private detective. The agent in me resists sharing details with him about crimes or the investigations we have going on.
“If you have time, Meg,”—I make it a point to emphasis her name and leave Jerome out—“maybe you could read through this and see if there’s anything we should follow up on.”
“Sure, we can work on that.” She leans forward, shuffling through her purse, and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. “Jerome and I had this idea, after searching for the lighthouse locations. Well, it was kind of his idea.”
I flinch internally. Apparently, he’s part of this whether I want him to be or not.
Meg goes on. “We got to talking about how it’s possible Gayle isn’t a serial killer, but maybe he’s still on the lam for something. I searched the FBI’s most wanted lists between 1991 and 1999 and we came up with this.”
Meg hands me the paper and I scan the list of names. “Okay…?” I’m not sure what I’m supposed to conclude from this. “You think one of these people could be Gayle?”
“I scanned the photos of those I could find,” Meg says. “Without age progression, I can’t be positive, but none look like him to me. Maybe he was tied in with one of them.”
“He could be in witness protection,” Jerome offers. “What if he was going to testify against one of those guys? Or maybe he did, and the Feds put him in the protection program. He’s been living off taxpayer dollars for all these years right across the street from you guys!”
I try not to show my lack of appreciation for his imagination. “A possibility.”
“We don’t have much else.” Meg’s face tells me she’s scared I won’t humor Jerome. “I found nothing with the lighthouses. At least this is a starting point.”
“You want to research each of these people to see if you can find a connection to Gayle, who could be living under a false name if he’s in WITSEC.” I inwardly cringe at the time that type of investigation might take, and odds are low they’ll find anything. Yet, both Meg and Jerome look at me with hope in their eyes. “What about the hundreds of cases the FBI closed around that time that he might have testified in? Again, if he’s a criminal and a snitch, Gayle Morton isn’t his real name. I’m not sure where you should begin.”
They both nod, still excited about this avenue, and now filled with determination.
“Don’t you have contacts in the WITSEC program who could point us in the right direction?” Meg asks.
“That’s U.S. Marshal territory, and they aren’t going to share that kind of information with a former agent.”
