he was invited to leave before he was forced to. Since then he’s had a website development company that went nowhere, and now has a private security and investigation company.”
“Interesting. With that background, he would more than have the skills and knowledge of forensics to be our man. And the history of violence is a flag. Hmmm. What about Ralph?”
“Married, two kids. No record.”
“All right, who’s next?”
Seth slid a file to her. “Brooklyn.”
“Ah.”
“Here’s the police report. What’s the most striking is the suicide note. I mean, she was obviously disturbed, but the circumstances…I actually remember reading about this when it happened. It was just so tragic and, well, such a sign of the times…”
“I know what you mean. Multiple sclerosis, at the end of her rope. Give me a quick tour of the high notes, would you?” Silver asked.
“Patricia Jarvis, fifty-seven, married, one child — Rachel, age thirty-four. Husband Howard, now…sixty, I believe. They were unable to continue making the mortgage payment after the 2008 crash, so the bank foreclosed. She was on a cocktail of medications for pain and complications from the MS, and decided the bank wasn’t going to get her house — not while she was alive. So a week before it was going to take possession, she got two five gallon cans of gasoline and doused the place, after leaving a note in the car. Perhaps even more tragic than her death was that of her daughter. She lived only a few blocks away, and her mother’s last act was to call her and tell her that she loved her before she lit the place up. So, sensing something wrong, Rachel raced over, but by the time she arrived, the fire was well under way. She battled her way in before the fire department got there, but got trapped inside by a collapsing beam as she was trying to get up the stairs from the basement access door. When they put out the blaze, Patricia was dead from the fire, and Rachel had died from smoke inhalation.”
“And where was Howard?” Silver asked.
“He arrived at the scene an hour later — he was on the train coming from the city. The report says he found the suicide note, and then he collapsed. They had to sedate him — he tried to run into the wreckage.”
“I can understand why. Poor bastard. Wife, daughter…”
“Yeah.”
Silver read through the file more carefully. “Do we like him as the killer? A sixty-year-old man?”
“Doesn’t fit any of the profiles, does it? Plus, let’s face it, he’s getting along in years to be going on a killing spree. I mean, anything’s possible, but usually when you see older folks in a murder, it’s with a gun, not decapitation,” Seth reasoned.
“What do we know about him?”
“He was in the military at the end of the Vietnam war. Honorable discharge. Engineering degree. Worked as a civil engineer for two companies — last one, for twenty-two years. Retired.”
“A Vietnam vet turned engineer? I’m warming to this for the methodical angle because of the engineering thing, and the military record is interesting, even if it’s ancient history — although his age makes him unlikely. I mean, nothing’s impossible, but the fire happened almost four years ago. So why start now?” Silver read the article again, then put it aside. “What else do we have?”
“The Michigan case. Nine years ago. Father and son. Michael Everin and Scott, ages forty-three and nineteen. An electrical fire. The flames got Dad, smoke got the kid. That left one surviving older son, now thirty-two, and an estranged wife who went on to re-marry. Interesting thing there is that the kid has a record. Aggravated assault, possession of a concealed handgun. Served five years. Two fights while incarcerated. Added six months to his sentence, which was still shortened due to no priors. You can see his prison record — there’s some speculation that he was taken in by a white supremacist gang while inside, but who knows for sure? He’s kept his nose clean since release — that’s about all we know.”
“How long has he been out?”
“Just over three years.”
“We know where he’s living?”
“New Jersey.”
“Really? That’s pretty close to home. And what does he do for a living?”
“Looks like construction, although that’s probably just a catch-all. He’s had a few other types of jobs — four months as a security guard, three as kitchen staff at an Italian restaurant. Currently unemployed. Although, wait a minute. In his prison records, it also notes that he was a kind of wiz with anything electronic or mechanical. So that could explain how he’s gotten past all the locks and alarms if he’s our killer.”
“Perhaps. Anything connecting him to the financial industry? Any reasons to be pissed off at it?”
“Not really. I mean, some of the Aryan Nation rhetoric is anti-Semitic, which includes anti-banking sentiment, but that’s a slender reed. No, so far, the best bet looks like the old guy.”
“Which is to say our odds don’t look particularly good.”
“No argument. But this was your hunch…”
They went through the rest, and half an hour later Silver was left feeling exasperated.
“I think we should pay a visit to all the possibles. Can’t hurt. Get some teams to question everyone. And keep looking for other articles that might tie in — you know the drill. Especially decapitations. Those aren’t common,” she observed.
“I’m already on it. Same search — going back ten years. Should have results coming in by tomorrow, if we’re lucky. This is a tremendous amount of data to sift through.”
“Seth, I just had another thought, and you aren’t going to like it. We’re limiting the search to the U.S., right? What if our killer isn’t from here? I mean, assuming my hunch isn’t completely wrong in the first place…what if he’s foreign?”
“Then our search wouldn’t turn up anything. We don’t have the records access to do a global search along the same lines.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. I guess we better hope that our killer was made in the U.S.A..”
“That’s the assumption we’ve been working under.”
“Then let’s not go off on any tangents. Have agents do preliminary interviews, and be sensitive to any tells.”
“Will do, boss. Is there anything else? How are you doing after the shooting?”
“You know. All in a day’s work. Speaking of which, who’s running the investigation on the guy who tried to turn off my lights yesterday?”
“Brett wanted to supervise it himself. He’s taking it personally. I hear he’s got Heron running lead on it.”
“Do me a favor. Keep an ear to the ground, and let me know if you hear anything, okay? I’m supposed to stay clear of it, but that doesn’t mean I have to be in the dark.”
“You got it.”
Chapter 13
Silver entered the doctor’s offices and waited patiently while she finished with a patient. When the receptionist called for her to go into the doctor’s office fifteen minutes later, she was pleasantly surprised at not having to wait longer.
“Silver Cassidy. Long time no see. Come in and have a seat. I only have a few minutes until my next patient, but please, sit.” Dr. Thelma Weiss was a large, friendly, open-looking woman with a ready smile and kind eyes. Her office was warm and informal, with overstuffed furniture that had a country living-room feel to it. Silver had spent countless hours there with Kennedy and was reminded again of its tranquility, which she knew was designed to put the patients at ease and make them feel at home. Apparently it worked. “You sounded agitated on the phone. Care to explain more?”
“Sure. As I said, my ex is suing for custody of Kennedy. As part of that, I suspect he’s going to drag everyone he can into this, fishing for negatives that will establish that she would be better off with him. I figured I would beat him to the punch and ask you what a formal assessment would say,” Silver began.
