Sally’s jaw dropped completely. “What are the odds?”
“Very long, I think.”
“It’s probably still just a coincidence,” Sally said with little conviction.
“Maybe,” he replied skeptically. “But I spoke with Jones’ mom, and she confirms that the two of them had recently gotten together for coffee.”
Sally slipped into lawyer mode. “They’re from the same hometown. So what?”
“Murdered on the same night? That in and of itself makes you wonder. But there’re other things. I’ve looked over Knapp’s other victims. Jones doesn’t fit. She’s professional. The others are working class. Jones has nothing to do with the University Avenue area. She lives down by the river and works downtown. How does Knapp run into her? She does no business in the University area, and Knapp never was downtown once in the entire time we followed him.”
Sally sat down, looking away at the white, concrete wall of the interview room. Quietly she said, “If you’re right, this means the Senator-”
“-Maybe didn’t do Daniels,” Mac said, equally quiet. “And Knapp didn’t do Jones.”
“So who did?”
“Good question.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Viper had been working around the clock, living in a minivan for what seemed like weeks. He was starting to feel all of his forty-seven years of age. Sore, achy, lethargic and just plain worn out. Kraft’s phone call didn’t exactly help. They weren’t done yet. McRyan and Kennedy’s places would need to remain infested a while longer.
He slept in late, not having set an alarm. Apparently nothing came of pillow talk between McRyan and Kennedy. If anything important had happened or been said, someone would have called.
Viper took a long shower, letting the hot water loosen up his muscles. He slowly massaged the Head and Shoulders through his short hair. He wondered if the police, in particular McRyan, would connect the dots. McRyan, or possibly that fat fuck Lich, could put it together, tying Jones to Daniels.
A full breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and juice as well as a chance to read the paper, gave him a feeling of normalcy. But he couldn’t get McRyan, Knapp, Jones, Daniels, and Cross out of his mind. He took a look at his watch, 9:45 a.m. He was to meet with the boss at 11:00. But first, some important business, in case the dots started getting connected.
He went to his office and placed a call to a contact in Switzerland. His encrypted phone system prevented tracing. Moving a little over $100,000, he would have that much more money if he had to run. This was in addition to the five million he had in other accounts. This would be a necessary task for the next few days. If he had to run, he wouldn’t be able to take much with. His wallet and the account numbers would mean he wouldn’t want for much once he was in hiding.
He looked at his watch again. Time to go. On the short drive into the office, McRyan, Knapp, Jones, Daniels, and Cross ran around in his head. Dumb luck all of this had happened really. Cross had been perfect. They pulled the plug on it in time. They made a ton of money on it. In a few years, they would all be retired, living the good life. Then Jones had to go and somehow find out about Cross, and it all started.
Viper parked in the basement and took the elevator up to the top. He waved to the boss’s receptionist and walked on in. He declined coffee and sat down in front of the desk.
“So we’re in at McRyan’s and Kennedy’s place?” the boss asked.
“Yes.” Viper replied.
“What about following them?”
“We’re doing that as well.”
“Let me know what comes of that.”
“Always.”
Mind mapping was something Mac had learned from his dad, who used it when a case got too complicated and he needed to see all the parts laid out to see how they might fit together. The elder McRyan would sit at the kitchen table or at his old roll-top desk with nothing but a pen and notepad. He would put whatever was perplexing him down in the middle of the page and jot all his pieces of information down around this question. More often then not, it worked- one of those little things that made Simon McRyan who he was.
Mac figured if it was good enough for the old man, why not him. He picked the technique up and used it. It had been great for him in school, especially on essay exams. He would lay the issue out in the middle of a piece of paper and jot down, around the page, the points he wanted to make in answering the question. He’d quickly get it all on the paper, number the points in the order he wanted to make them, and then write. Given his grades, it was more than effective as a tool. He hadn’t used it much since school, but if ever there was a time, it was now.
So, in the middle of his lined notepad, he wrote, “If not Knapp, who and why?” He wrote Daniels down to the left of the question. He wrote Jones on top and Mason Johnson to the right. He spent the afternoon working it, jotting down notes around each one of the names.
Next to Daniels’s name he jotted down everything he could recall about her that seemed relevant. Grew up with Jones in Bristol Ohio. Had recent contact with her. Investigative reporter.
Next to Jones’s name he wrote CFO at PTA. Grew up with Daniels in Bristol. Recent contact with Daniels. Didn’t fit profile of other victims.
Under Senator Mason Johnson, he wrote: How’d he fit in? Did he kill Daniels? If not, who did? Did he commit suicide?
Down in the lower right-hand corner, he wrote in quotes, “If someone had the resources to kill Daniels and Jones, in the same night no less, did they have the juice to kill the senator?” He made a note to call the Wright County Sheriff.
What about Knapp? Was his assassination part of this?
Mac got up and paced the homicide division, looking down at the notepad. Occasionally he would stop and jot down little notes as he took his tour. Stopping at the vending machines, he bought a Diet Coke and some Doritos, and walked back to his desk and plopped himself down in his chair. The Doritos were quickly devoured. He slapped his hands together, cleaning them off and took another look at the Jones file. Became CFO at a young age. What did Patrick say happened? The old CFO had died? What was his name, Stephens or something?
Mac pulled his chair up to his computer and did an Internet search of the
JAMES STEPHENS, PROMINENT CFO, DIES IN SHEPARD ROAD ACCIDENT
James Stephens, 54, died last night in a one-car accident along St. Paul’s Shepard Road. Mr. Stephens was returning home from Peterson Technical Applications, where he was the CFO for the past ten years. The accident appeared to be caused by the slick roads resulting from yesterday’s snowstorm. St. Paul Patrol Officer Fred Barrett stated that the car apparently hit a patch of ice while traveling west on Shepard, just prior to the stop sign at the end of Shepard and the beginning of Mississippi Boulevard. His vehicle, unable to stop, went through the stoplight, over the embankment, rolling over and coming to a rest upside down thirty-feet below on the west bound lane of West 7th Street. Mr. Stephens was rushed to United Hospital and was pronounced dead on arrival. Stephens is survived by his second wife, Yolanda, and two sons, James, Jr., of Washington, D.C., and Jeff of Seattle, Washington.
Mac tracked down Barrett. “I tell you, Mac, it was pretty horrific. He went over that embankment, rolled a few times. The car was crushed. He didn’t have a chance, even with the airbag deploying and his seatbelt.”
“Anything unusual about the accident?”
