“Point taken.” He hung up, and Megan wasn’t sure if he was fully on her side.
While military investigations were essential in keeping order among the armed forces, Megan simply couldn’t see what benefit there was to the Criminal Investigation Division taking over the murder of an AWOL soldier when his death most likely had nothing to do with his being AWOL.
Unless the other two victims were AWOL.
She called Richardson back.
“Sir-”
“I’m about to shower, since you woke me. Can I have ten minutes?”
“Did you find out about the other two victims? If they were veterans?”
“No. I sent an alert to headquarters about the possible connection.”
“I’m going to follow up on that. Maybe there is another connection-”
“That they were all AWOL?” he guessed what she’d been thinking. “Let me know.” He hung up.
Texas was two hours ahead of California, but it wasn’t even seven a.m. there. Still, she called and left a message for the detective in charge of the Duane Johnson homicide. She did the same thing for the Dennis Perry homicide in Las Vegas. Then she called Matt.
“I need-”
“Good morning to you, too, Meg.”
“Sorry, I-”
“I know. I’ve had an earful from CSU. I got you a temporary restraining order, but I don’t expect it to hold up. It’ll just delay them, and probably not for long.”
“Enough time for me to convince them that they don’t want to take our victim and evidence.”
“Good luck. I’m not holding my breath.” He hung up.
Megan appreciated the legal system. Laws were there for a reason. Even military laws. But she wanted to solve a murder. Find a killer, build a case, and hand it over to the U.S. attorney for prosecution. She wanted to punish the bad guys. She only wished she was better versed in such situations like dealing with CID, but she would wing it. After all, they were on the same side.
When she pulled up in front of the morgue, there were two army jeeps and a black sedan with military plates. A soldier in uniform stood sentry. She drove around back and saw the crime scene unit’s van. An ambulance was bringing in two corpses from a local hospital for processing when Megan walked in. She didn’t see Simone, but heard her voice echoing in the sterile building. Megan cringed. She flashed her badge though the intake pathologist didn’t pay much attention, or so Megan thought. She started walking toward the voice when the gal behind the desk snapped “Grab some booties,” and pointed to a box on the wall.
“Thanks.” Megan slid them on her flats and continued to walk toward the voice.
“What about ‘restraining order’ do you not understand?” Simone said, hands on her hips, as Megan rounded the corner into the cold storage room. Rows of bodies on steel gurneys, most of them covered with sheets with only their feet showing, lined the huge refrigerator.
Megan was surprised to see that Matt had beat her to the morgue. She nodded to her brother, and to the pathologist who was standing next to Simone.
All eyes went to her. Megan quickly assessed the situation and realized that she was likely the ranking opposition, for lack of a better word. She extended her hand to the man in the suit-military lawyer, she pegged. “Hello, I’m Supervisory Special Agent Megan Elliott with the FBI. I think we can work something out where we all get what we want.”
The lawyer said, “Lieutenant Paul Stork. Your victim is our primary suspect in an attempted murder case. Private First Class Price has been AWOL for five years. And, as I was explaining to the district attorney, section-”
Megan cut him off. “I understand, Lieutenant. And I respect your need to investigate your own crimes. May I suggest that we find common ground so we-”
Stork interrupted. “There is no common ground, Agent Elliott.”
Megan appealed to his sense of justice. “Price was the victim of a serial murderer who has killed two other men-in Texas and Nevada. The evidence is crucial not only to this investigation, but to those investigations. We need to make the link-”
Stork put his hand up. Megan realized the gesture was the same one she often used when she wanted someone to stop talking, and it irritated her intensely. She vowed she wouldn’t do it again, and planned on apologizing to her ex-husband at her first opportunity.
“Agent Elliott, if there is any evidence pertinent to the Sacramento Police Department’s investigation into this homicide, my office will forward it to”-he looked at his notepad-”Detective John Black.”
“I think we can do better than that,” Megan said.
Stork’s phone rang. He answered it without excusing himself. He listened, then said, “Thank you,” and hung up.
“If-”
He put his hand up again and Megan wanted to slap it back down. Stork motioned for the two soldiers standing sentry over Price’s body to move him out.
“That was the DOD,” Stork said. “I have confirmed authority to take over this investigation. The FBI does not have jurisdiction in this matter, as I’m sure both you and the district attorney are aware.” He turned to Si-mone, who was red-faced. The pathologist had a hand on her shoulder, his knuckles white as he restrained her as subtly as possible.
“Ms. Charles, I have sent over a team to collect the evidence stored at the Sacramento Police Department. If you make this difficult, I’ll have you taken into custody for obstruction of justice.” He said to the pathologist, “Mr. Ward, if you would please retrieve all clothing, evidence, and material you removed from Private First Class Price’s body, post haste.”
“It’s logged in with-” Ward began.
“Please bring it to me. I have a busy day ahead and need to arrange transport of the body to our facilities.”
Ward didn’t bat an eye and left the room.
“Nice try, Mr. Elliott,” Stork said. “I assume you were trying to help your wife out, but you should have known better.”
“Sister,” Megan and Matt said simultaneously.
Matt added, “This is still my county, and that man, AWOL or not, was murdered in my jurisdiction. I will likely be prosecuting his killer at some point-before or after you. I hope you’ll consider that when you process the evidence and ensure that Ms. Charles and Detective Black have a copy of all your records and files.”
“We’ll provide what we can,” Stork said, noncommittally.
“You jumped on this real quick,” Megan said. “We’ve had the case for less than twenty-four hours.”
“Your office contacted the army,” Stork said.
“Excuse me?” Then Megan remembered. “When we were confirming his identity and seeking next-of-kin records.” Dammit, her diligence got her case yanked.
“The CID still moved faster than I’ve ever seen the army move,” Matt said. “Who’s Price’s victim? A general?” Megan noted the sarcasm in her brother’s voice.
“Price is wanted for the attempted murder of his commanding officer.”
Ward walked back in and handed a sealed box to the soldier Stork indicated.
“Thank you, Mr. Ward. You have been very helpful.” He nodded to them, then motioned for the soldiers to leave with him. “Have a nice day.”
Simone didn’t restrain her scream of frustration as Stork left with their victim. “Asshole!”
Matt said, “I know Stork’s type. He can make your life hell if he wants to.”
“I’ve never been in the military,” she snapped. “I don’t take orders well.”
Matt turned to the pathologist. “Good to see you again, Phineas. Have you met my sister, Megan Elliott?”
