Rules of Crime (14 page)

“See you in the morning.”

“Call me if anything breaks open.” Schak directed the comment to Agent River.

“You got it.”

After his partner left, Jackson closed the door and asked, “What did you get from the phone?”

“Nothing so far. No ransom texts, and all recent calls seem to involve clients, except for the one from his ex-wife.” River sat
down too. “But I have one number I haven’t been able to trace. I sent it over to my lead tech guy.”

As far as Jackson knew, the tech guys were still sitting in a van a block from Anderson’s house.

River handed him a clear plastic bag containing Striker’s wallet and phone. “Give me fifteen minutes, then let him go. An agent will pick up the tail outside and we’ll see where he goes.”

Jackson wanted to stay with Striker too. What if the suspect went straight to Renee? But Striker was just as likely to go home and stay there, meaning a long night in the car for whoever was tailing him. He glanced over while River was on the phone. She squeezed each finger on her left hand, then switched over and did the right fingers. It was slow, rhythmic, and probably soothing.

She noticed him watching her. “I got in the habit when I was a kid. My father made me nervous.” She smiled, as though there was more to the story.

Jackson didn’t think he should ask. “What did they say about Talbot?”

“He gave them nothing. And he has a pretty solid alibi for the time of the abduction. So we’re going to let him go with a tail too.” She stood. “I’m headed back to Anderson’s house. You might as well go home.”

Jackson looked at his watch: 8:11. It had been a long busy day and he could feel it in his bones. But with major cases, he often worked past midnight, slept on the couch in the
soft
interrogation room, and was back at his desk by five in the morning. This felt too early to call it quits. “I’ll stay and try to dig up a connection between Striker and the Kings gang.”

“Thanks, Jackson. I’m glad you’re on the team.”

CHAPTER 17

Monday, January 9, 8:15 p.m.

Driving out to Anderson’s home, River missed a turn and had to circle back. She was still getting used to Eugene and its peculiar stop-and-start streets. But the lack of traffic, especially at night, made up for it. In San Diego, cars had been on the road until midnight. Even Portland, where she’d spent a chunk of her FBI career, was a real city with real nightlife. Except for a few bars in the small downtown area, Eugene shut down after eight o’clock, especially in the winter. Which was troublesome for a restless insomniac who didn’t watch TV. The thought reminded her that she’d forgotten to contact the homeless shelter. She pulled off the road and called Eric, the director.

“It’s River. I’m sorry, but I’m working late tonight and I can’t come in.”

“We’ll miss you but you know I understand.”

“Will you read to my group? We’re on chapter three of
The Hunger Games
.”

“I’ll try. When will you be back? The kids are always calmer after you’ve been here.”

“Probably not for a few days. I’m working a tough case.”

“I hope you solve it.”

“Thanks.” River hung up and let go of the guilt. She’d been volunteering in teenage homeless shelters for two decades and knew she’d done her part. Five years after her father went to prison, her mother had killed herself, and River—living as a male then—had ended up on the streets. She’d been homeless for her last two years of high school, until she’d finally contacted Joe Palmer, the FBI agent who headed the investigation into the murders her father had committed. Joe had given her his card during the investigation and said to call if she ever needed anything. One day, feeling sick, dirty, and hungry for a better life, she’d found the card in her wallet and made the call. It had changed her life, and later she’d vowed to never lose sight of teenagers in need.

Ivan Anderson’s house was lit up like a Vegas hotel. Against the dark, quiet, upscale neighborhood, the brightness was jarring.
And unusual
, River thought. Agent Fouts was usually more of a sit-quietly-in-a-dark-corner kind of guy. Maybe the lights were Anderson’s idea, a vigil of sorts for Renee.

River strode into the house after a brief knock and didn’t see anyone. But the tech guys were still at their post down the road, and her team members were tailing their two suspects. Fouts and Anderson were in the study, watching TV. Her partner jumped up, while Anderson struggled to push himself off the couch.

“What’s the update?” Fouts asked.

“We didn’t get anywhere with the suspects, but we’ve got agents tailing both of them.” She glanced at Anderson, whose eyes were glassy. “The sheriff’s search team pulled a body out of the water downstream from the drop site. It’s likely our perp, and he has a Westside Kings tattoo.” She met Anderson’s eyes. “Did Renee have any association with gang members?”

“Of course not.” His words slurred like he’d had too much to drink.

River felt a flash of irritation. What if the kidnapper called and this idiot needed to function? “What about family friends or groups she belonged to? Did Renee do any volunteer work?”

“Her PR business takes up most of her time, and Renee’s family here in Eugene consists of her sister and her daughter. None of them know any gang members.”

River made a mental note to ask Jackson about his daughter’s friends. “We’re still hoping he had an accomplice.”

“What about the cash? Did it turn up?” Anderson swayed as he talked.

“Not yet. The tracker went dead after the dump in the river.”

“Oh christ. What do I do now?”

“We wait to see if he contacts you again and hope one of our suspects leads us to Renee.”

“I need a drink.” Anderson lurched toward the liquor cabinet.

For a second, River hesitated, then blurted out, “What if he calls and wants to try another exchange tonight? I need you to be coherent.” She glanced at Fouts. Why had he let it go this far?

Anderson spun back, his face contorted. “I don’t have anything to exchange. I cashed most of it out. What can I offer him tonight? My car? The keys to my cabin on the beach?”

“If he contacts you, decisions will need to be made.”

“Christ, you’re a nag.”

Fouts tried to hide a smirk.

River turned away from them both. During a crisis, some people stepped outside their own limitations and performed heroically. Others medicated or wallowed in self-pity. Anderson disappointed her. No wonder his fiancée had started drinking again.

A jangle came from Anderson’s phone. River pivoted back and watched, irritated, as Anderson looked for a place to set his drink. While the annoying ringtone filled the room, he fumbled with the device and finally clicked into his messages.

“It’s a text from the kidnapper.” Anderson choked back a sob.

Relief washed over her. The main perpetrator was still alive, which meant they had another opportunity to salvage the case and save Renee. “Let me see it.” River strode over and reached for the phone.

The message read:
If you want your girlfriend back, start over. Have the cash ready again by noon tomorrow.

“This is good news.” River looked up. “It means Renee is probably still alive and we have another chance to apprehend or follow the kidnapper. But I want to demand proof of life.” She wasn’t really asking permission but she hoped Anderson wouldn’t resist.

“What do you mean?” He’d pulled together a little and was trying to sound coherent.

“I want to see a time-stamped photo or hear her voice. We need to know for certain if she’s alive.”

“What if he says no?”

“We have to try.”

“What should I say?”

“Let me send the text.” River keyed in:
I want to talk to Renee. I need to know she’s alive before I borrow more cash.

While they waited for a response, Anderson put away the bottle of scotch and paced the room. River sat and took long slow breaths. This communication was critical. Even if Anderson
didn’t plan to pay another ransom, the kidnapper needed to think he would. The perp needed a reason to keep his captive alive.

When the phone beeped again, River clicked open the message:
She’s fine. I’ll send a photo soon. I still need a hundred grand so make it happen.

She read the message out loud, then crossed her fingers. “Please let him send a photo. And please let it be from a smartphone.”

“He seems too sharp to make such a mistake.” Fouts shrugged. “It could happen though.”

Her own phone rang and it was the tech team. “The last text bounced off a tower on Gateway Loop. But it’s a throwaway phone with no GPS and we can’t get a specific location.”

“Find the owner if you can.” River wasn’t optimistic. All the other texts had come from untraceable phones bought with cash. She caught Anderson’s eye. “We need to let him think you’re going to pay again. If you want to actually pay and need more time, we’ll negotiate for it. But if you don’t plan to give him more money, then the sooner we set this up the better.”

“It would take me a week to borrow another hundred thousand. I’ve spent most of my reserves in the last few years.” Pain flashed across his face.

River wanted to know more about that situation but they had to respond to the kidnapper first. “Let’s tell him you’ll pay. This time we’ll give him a bag filled with newspaper and we’ll have more people in place ready to grab him.”

Anderson nodded.

River keyed in,
I’ll get as much cash together as I can. Where do you want to meet?

A minute later, the text came back:
I’ll let you know tomorrow.

She typed back:
Send the photo.

But Anderson’s phone went silent.

CHAPTER 18

Monday, January 9, 8:40 p.m.

“Hey, Kera, I know it’s late, but I’d like to stop by.” Jackson left the message, disappointed she hadn’t picked up. She was probably putting her baby grandson to sleep.

He clicked off his computer and headed out, feeling weird and guilty about going home while Renee was still missing. But this was the FBI’s case and they had agents everywhere. There was nothing more he could do today. He’d found Striker and given the task force the best lead they had.

As he trotted down the stairs to the parking lot, Kera called back. “Of course you can. I’d love to see you.” She paused. “I have a million questions but I’ll wait until you get here.”

He laughed. “You just don’t want me on the phone while I’m driving.”

“I like to see your face when you’re talking. You’re more expressive with me than you are with anyone else.”

“Me and my face will be there soon.” He was smiling as he hung up. He wished he’d told her she was the only person he didn’t feel guarded with. Kera somehow made him want to tell her everything.

On the drive over, Agent River called to tell him about the new ransom demand.

“Did you get proof of life?”
Please let there be good news for his daughter.

“Not yet. He said he’d send a photo, but we haven’t received it.”

“Is Anderson going to pay again?”

“He doesn’t have the money and I don’t want to leave Renee in the kidnapper’s hands for a week while Anderson rounds it up. We’ll have more agents in place for the next drop.”

“I’d like to be there.”

“Let’s meet at Anderson’s at nine tomorrow morning. The perp said noon but last time he jumped the gun.”

“See you then.”

Jackson pulled into Kera’s driveway, remembering the first time he’d come here. She’d received a threatening letter after the Planned Parenthood clinic where she worked had been bombed. Moments after he arrived, she’d become deathly ill from ricin poison and he’d had to rush her to the hospital. Her courage in the face of numerous attacks had been one of the things that had drawn him to her.

He climbed out, feeling serene for the first time that day. The big house with the great view of the city lights always seemed to welcome him. Yet he hadn’t taken Kera up on her invitation to move in. The birth of her grandson had changed everything. Then Kera had taken little Micah and her daughter-in-law into her home, and Jackson had decided he couldn’t handle the chaos of living here.