Love me to death

“Am I wrong?”

Sean didn’t answer.

“I’m going with you.”

“No-”

“Why? Because it’s too dangerous and I’m not a cop?” Dillon shook his head. “Guess what? Neither are you.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“No,” Dillon said. “I gather you already found him.”

“Kate’s going to kill me,” Sean muttered as he drove off.

“Probably.”

“Call her and let her know.”

“That we’re going to confront Mallory? She’ll kill me.”

“At least send her the address. We don’t know for certain that Mallory is living there, but I don’t want Noah Armstrong breathing down my neck, talking about obstruction of justice or any crap like that. I’m just feeling the situation out, not looking for a confrontation.” Sean didn’t know if that was the truth or not, but it sounded good.

Back at his cubicle in the FBI office, Noah quickly typed up the facts for Rick Stockton to push for a warrant for Frances Buckley and WCF. Stockton thought they had enough, but Noah was skeptical.

He went through the case methodically, glancing at both his and Abigail’s notes. He sent it off just as Sandy, the analyst who was working the case with them, emailed him the list of property owners on Eucalyptus Street in Somerset, and the two cross streets. He glanced at the list, then did a double-take.

Biggler.

He looked at the map, and the house owned by David and Brenda Biggler was vacant and had been up for sale for the last four months.

It couldn’t be a coincidence that Ralston had been an informant for Jerry Biggler.

Since Abigail was on her way back to Somerset, Noah quickly sent her a message to check out the house and talk to the neighbors about the Bigglers. He then ran a quick background check on the two. He immediately learned that they were not married as he’d first assumed, but brother and sister. The house had been owned by their father, Detective Jerry Biggler, who’d lived there until he died.

Definitely no coincidence.

David Biggler, thirty-four, was a high school English teacher. A teacher. Noah pulled up his photograph. He looked like a nice kid, though he was only a year younger than Noah. Biggler had a degree in American literature from John Hopkins University.

Brenda Biggler, twenty-six, was an attractive blond nurse.

A teacher and a nurse. Maybe he was wrong about this.

He looked closer at their history. David Biggler graduated only four years ago. Noah looked farther back. Biggler had enlisted in the Marines when he turned eighteen. Spent eight years active duty. Came home after his dad died and went to college.

Noah reviewed his notes on Mallory. He’d been a Marine as well. Coincidence?

Was Biggler part of this whole thing? Was he with Morton and Ralston-or Mallory and Buckley?

But why on earth would Biggler either help his father’s informant in a criminal enterprise or turn vigilante? Neither he nor his sister had any criminal record. David had been honorably discharged.

Noah considered what Hans Vigo had said about vigilante personalities and wondered if he was missing something in Biggler’s background. Where was the mother? Divorced when David was fourteen. She went to Arizona and remarried. It didn’t look like there was much communication between the kids and their mother, and it seemed odd that the father was given custody, especially more than two decades ago. He’d have to get an analyst to pull the case file, but there was no way he’d get it today.

It took Noah twenty minutes to find the connection, and he would never have found it if he wasn’t looking for one, or if he hadn’t talked to Hans this morning.

Four months before Mrs. Biggler filed for divorce, thirteen-year-old Nicole Biggler was raped and murdered by a known sex offender, released only three months before after serving four years for attempted rape of a fifteen- year-old.

Hans said that the vigilantes involved likely had lost someone to violence. Losing a sibling, coupled with the mother leaving, could have been the impetus that Biggler needed to turn vigilante. Just because he didn’t have a record didn’t mean he wasn’t a killer. And just because he was a teacher didn’t mean he couldn’t turn violent.

Biggler’s sister is killed, then his mother leaves him and his younger sister to the dad and moves nearly three thousand miles away. Biggler joins the Marines first chance he gets. Returns when dad is dying.

All the pieces by themselves made sense, but together Noah had a mess. Far too much conjecture and no solid evidence to link Biggler to Mallory or to Morton.

Noah leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He had a few options, but none of them appealed to him. He could go to the high school and pick up Biggler now or wait until school let out. He could get his current address and wait for him at home. Or, they could simply put a tail on Biggler, and see where he went and what he did.

The last option seemed the most viable. Once they had a warrant for Fran Buckley and WCF, the news would get out and Biggler might rabbit. Noah needed eyes on him before then. If he pulled him in too soon, Noah might tip his hand.

TWENTY-NINE

Mallory’s mother-in-law’s house was thirty minutes away in Herndon on a secluded parcel of land. “I’ll knock,” Dillon said. “He knows me.”

“What makes you think he won’t shoot you on sight?”

“Jack saved his life.”

“Maybe he should have let him die.”

Dillon hesitated. “Mallory is heavily burdened and made huge errors in judgment. But if it weren’t for him sending Kate the longitude and latitude of the island where Lucy was held captive, we’d never have saved her in time. He nearly died because of it. He did the right thing.”

“Too late.”

“You’re not going to get an argument from me, but he’s not going to kill me.”

“You can’t be sure of that. It’s been six years.”

Sean didn’t like the idea of Dillon taking the lead, but they were already far off the reservation in disobeying Noah Armstrong’s direct orders to stay out of the investigation. Since Noah wasn’t his boss, Sean wasn’t taking it seriously, but they both knew that Kate could get some heat for their actions.

Dillon rang the bell. Sean peered into the garage. There was one car inside, but the garage could fit three.

There was no answer. Cautiously, they walked the perimeter of the house. The windows were covered by storm windows and the blinds were all drawn. Sean heard no movement inside. He put a small microphone in his ear and positioned a small amplifier close to the door.

Dillon motioned toward the device. Sean took out the earpiece and whispered, “It detects and amplifies sound and movement. Not foolproof, but it’s worked for me before.” He put the earpiece back in and listened for a good minute.

“I don’t think anyone’s home,” Sean said, taking out his lock pick.

“We’re not breaking in.”

“Go back to the car then.”

“Dammit, Sean!”

Sean popped the lock, then faced Dillon. “We’re in and out. I won’t take anything. You stand guard.”