A Killer's Agenda (25 page)

“Something like that,” Alex said, digging in her purse and

handing her a card. “Actually what we were hoping is that you would be able to direct us to Mr. Johnson’s old roommate. Do you have any idea who that might be?”

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Anita Whiting

“Oh sure. That would be Tommy Lakins. I know because we

used to date a while back. He was pretty shook up when Corey was shot.”

“Do you know where we can find him?”

She turned to the computer again, tucking her long blonde hair behind her ears. “Let’s see. It’s almost two so he’s at… Claridon Hall.” She pointed behind them. “Go straight across the street and you’ll see the sign. Class should be letting out in about ten minutes. He’s a tall guy, skinny, with about your hair color,” she finished, glancing at Alex.

Brad smiled, making her blush again. “Thanks, Carrie,” he

said, glancing at her name tag. “We appreciate it.”

“Hey, no problem. I hope you find whoever did this to Corey. He was a nice guy. Intense and really serious but nice.”

Alex waited until they were outside before stopping to glance up at Brad. “Thank God for blonde coeds who are impressed with tall, dark and handsome.”

He leaned down to brush her lips. “How about red-haired

detectives?”

She shook her head, laughing. “Your ego is big enough. Come

on, let’s go.”

They perched under the shade of a big oak tree and waited.

Students began to trickle out shortly afterward. Even before she saw him, Alex felt the tingle of minds connecting. Her gaze traveled across the lawn and directly toward the doorway.

“There’s our boy now,” she said, standing. As they walked

across the courtyard, Alex saw Tommy’s gaze centering on her. He stopped on the sidewalk facing them and waited.

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Brad raised an eyebrow. “The kid almost looks like he’s

expecting us.”

“I think he is,” she said quietly.

“Hi. Tom Lakins?” Brad asked. When the young man nodded,

he extended his hand. “I’m Brad Norton and this is Alex Leahy. We were wondering if you have a few minutes to talk with us.”

“About Corey?”

Brad glanced at Alex. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Sure. I’ve got an hour before my next class. If you don’t mind meeting in the cafeteria so I can grab something to eat.”

Moments later, they were seated at a table at the far end of the room, Brad and Alex sipping coffee while Tom dug into a burger and fries. He took a gulp of his coke and then leaned back in his chair.

“You can’t be the police because they think I’m some kind of crackpot. So who are you?”

Alex smiled sympathetically. “Sometimes it’s really a pain, isn’t it?”

Tommy’s gaze flew to hers. “What?”

“Seeing things, the future.”

He didn’t reply for a moment, studying her solemnly. “You

know, don’t you?”

She nodded fingering a flaming curl. “It’s the curse of our

ancestry. You’ve got to have a Kelly or a Martin somewhere in that past.

“Try Lally.”

She smiled briefly. “We’re not the police but we are

investigating your roommate’s death.”

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Anita Whiting

“Why,” he said with a trace of bitterness. “According to the local authorities, it’s old history.”

“Not to us,” Brad said.

Again Tommy studied him and then nodded. “Okay, what do

you want to know?”

“To start with, why do the police think you’re a crackpot?”

“Because I told them I knew, was positive, that Corey’s death wasn’t an accident. That he was murdered for a reason.”

“What reason?”

Tommy took another bite of his burger and chewed

thoughtfully. “I think it had something to do with the assignment Professor Spear’s gave us in class a couple of months before Corey was killed. I don’t know that for a fact but I
feel
it, if you know what I mean. I’ve had dreams ever since that day, even though I wasn’t around when it happened. Every one of them ends with me staring at those papers on his desk in our room.”

“What was the assignment?” Brad asked.

“We had to find a cold investigation, research the facts and make a case acting as the DA. Interview witnesses, recording their answers, collecting evidence, that sort of thing. We didn’t have to run true to the real investigation but we had to dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s. Professor Spear is a real pain about that stuff.”

“You know what Corey was investigating?” Alex asked.

“I know he found a newspaper article on the web about a plane crash that happened about twenty years ago just outside of

Charlotte, North Carolina. The pilot along with the husband and wife that were on board were all killed. There wasn’t much left of the plane but the conclusion was that it was pilot error that caused the crash.”

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Alex knew the answer before she even asked the question.

“What were the names of the victims?”

“Steadman. Laura and Lawrence Steadman. I remember the

name because, according to his research, it was big news at the time. At least that’s what he told me.” He shrugged thin shoulders, taking another gulp of his pop. “Apparently the couple was worth a whole lot of money. To the tune of millions.”

She put her cup down carefully, catching Brad’s eye. “Why

would Corey investigate a case from so long ago? Clues had to be hard to come by

He took a last bite of his burger, leaning back in the chair.

“You had to know Corey. He was tenacious as hell. Besides, his grandparent’s were killed in that plane crash over Florida years ago and it hit him hard. He was close to both of them and I guess this case brought those memories back. Especially after he read about the pilot’s family and what they had to say.”

“What was that?” Brad asked.

“I don’t remember everything but the gist, from what Corey told me, was that they said there was no way this guy failed to check his gauges before take off. That was backed up by the mechanic that worked on the Steadman’s private jet. I guess he had been flying them around for over twenty years.”

“I supposed this is a crazy question, Tom,” Alex said, “but you wouldn’t happen to have his research papers would you?”

He shook his head regretfully. “I wish I did. Then maybe I could prove I wasn’t totally nuts to the police. They took his papers when I told them about my suspicions, but I didn’t hear anything after that.” He scowled. “Probably threw them in the trash.”

“How about his computer?” Brad asked.

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Anita Whiting

The scowl disappeared. “Man, I didn’t think about that. His

parents took the desktop when they cleaned out his stuff, but they gave me his laptop. I already had a newer one but I couldn’t
not
take it, if you know what I mean?”

Alex nodded in understanding. “Do you still have it?”

“I think so. I moved into a campus apartment for my senior

year and it might be in some of the boxes I’ve got stuffed in my closet.” He glanced at the cafeteria clock. “I’ve got a class for the next hour and a half.” He reached in his backpack and scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed to Brad. “This is the address. It’s on the north side of the campus. Old brick two-story.

If you can meet me there in about two hours, I’ll see if I still have it.”

“You got it and thanks,” Brad said, leaning over and shaking his hand.

“Hey, it’s nice to know someone believes me. I was beginning to think I was crazy or something.”

“I know the feeling. Alex and I will be waiting.”

Tom grabbed his backpack and stood. “See you in a few then.”

Alex watched him walk away thoughtfully. “Okay, I’m trying to figure out what the Steadman’s deaths have to do with all of this?”

she said, slowly turning her gaze to Brad.

“Maybe Anna’s parents weren’t as taken with Russell Ferron as their daughter was.”

“Could be, but again it just doesn’t jive. After all, at the time, they weren’t even engaged but just dating according to my

sources.”

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“Hopefully we’ll find that answer somewhere in Corey’s

computer,” Brad said, rising as a group of girls walked over with food-laden trays.

A tall curvy blonde flashed a seductive smile at Brad. “You

don’t have to leave on our account,” she said huskily.

“Oh, but he does,” Alex said, tucking an arm in Brad’s and

gazing up at him with a dramatic fluttering of her lashes. “He’s going to help me with my biology, aren’t you, honey?”

“Absolutely,” he answered, playing along. “After all, the human body, especially the female one, has always fascinated me.”

“Well, you can study mine anytime you want,” the blonde said suggestively.

Brad flashed a smile and then grimaced slightly as Alex gave him a subtle but sharp jab. “Thanks for the offer but …” he

shrugged, “I’m rather tied up at the moment.”

“Too bad,” she said, sliding into a chair.

Brad glanced down at Alex as he opened the cafeteria door for her. “Jealous?” he teased.

“Not at all,” she said airily, brushing past him just as a loud crash reverberated behind them. They both turned just in time to see the blonde covered in salad, glaring at girl standing behind her with a now empty tray.

“Oh, what a shame,” Alex said calmly, turning back and

walking out the door.

She made it about three steps before Brad caught up with her.

“Rather strange coincidence back there, wasn’t it?”

“If you mean the salad shampoo, it wasn’t an accident.”

Brad’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said your sister was the one with the power of mental suggestion.”

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Anita Whiting

“She is. I took lessons.”

He looked startled for a brief moment and then his lips

twitched. “Remind me never to tick you off, will you?”

“It’ll happen, you know.”

He ran a finger along her cheek. “Then I’ll have to take some of those lessons, won’t I?”

Alex laughed, linking her arm with his again. “Knowing Alicia, she’d give them to you.”

They walked along the picturesque campus pathway just

enjoying the late afternoon sun and the peaceful surroundings.

When they reached the car Brad paused, his gaze sliding across the lush green lawn toward the building across the street.

“My guess is the campus library will have an archive of

newspaper articles written about Corey Johnson’s death. Maybe there will be something we can use. We’ve got a little over an hour to kill.”

“Good idea.”

About ten minutes later, they both had a stack of newspapers in their arms. They settled in a quiet spot toward the back of the library and began sorting.

Finally, Alex sighed, rubbing the back of her neck trying to ease the stiffness. “I’m beginning to think this is a waste of time.

There’s nothing here that we don’t already know.”

“I might have something,” Brad said, spreading part of a

newspaper in front of Alex. She glanced at it and then shook her head. “Brad, this is the obituaries. What could be in…?” She stopped, leaning forward; her eyes focusing on the column entitled NOTABLE DEATHS.

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A Killer's Agenda

DIED: JOSEPH MICHAEL RINALDI, ATTORNEY

Attorney, Joseph Michael Rinaldi, a Marshall alumni, was laid to
rest at All Souls cemetery late yesterday afternoon in his hometown
of Marietta, Ohio. Mr. Rinaldi was involved in a fatal car crash
earlier in the week that is still under investigation. He was most well
known for the landmark case he won regarding soil conservation
and water rights along the Ohio River. In recent months, however,
according to people closest to him, he had spent long hours
investigating the death of his six-year-old grandson, Michael who
was killed in a drive-by shooting last year. Mr. Rinaldi is survived
by his daughter, Wendy and son-in-law Steven Fox and

granddaughter, Melissa, and preceded in death by his wife of thirty
years, Elizabeth. Mr. Rinaldi was fifty five.

Alex raised her gaze to Brad’s. “A fatal accident?”

“Accident being the operative word,” Brad said somberly. “Want to make a bet that he found something that implicated Ferron?”

Alex rested her chin on her hands. “He’s feeling invincible right now, is Russell Ferron. He’s methodically and skillfully eliminated every person who has threatened his rich lifestyle. What’s worse is he’s got the power and money to continue doing so unless we stop him.”

Brad folded the paper and placed it on the stack in front of him. “Before we visit Rinaldi’s daughter, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to see what exactly the police found regarding that accident.” He glanced at the date on the top of the page. “This is about a year old, so I would guess they’ve either closed it or it’s a cold case.”

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Anita Whiting

Alex followed his gaze to the picture of Corey Johnson on the front page. Instantly, she could feel the images beginning to form and she closed her eyes, letting them surround her.

Shadows flitted in her mind. She could see a plane hurtling

toward the ground, its occupants screaming, smell an

overpowering odor of fuel. The scene abruptly changed. She could almost feel the man’s fear, the pounding heart as the car went faster and faster, taking the curve in the road too fast…the green car lunging closer in the rear view mirror… then blinding terror as suddenly the tires left the ground… She recoiled, even with her eyes still closed, from the fire and the incredible heat. Then, as abruptly as it started, the shadows faded.

Her eyes opened slowly and she took a shuddering breath,

willing her pulse to slow. Brad reached over and palmed her hand in his, warming it with his touch.

“A vision?”

She nodded. “Nothing definite, just shadows of things. But it was enough to know that Corey Johnson was on the right track with the Steadman’s plane crash being the core of this whole thing.