Playing Dead Part 21

It was nearly five when Mitch and Steve walked into the Sacramento regional FBI office to meet with their supervisor, Megan Elliott.

Meg was at her desk. Mitch suspected she worked longer hours than anyone else here, but even if he was concerned about her workaholic lifestyle he didn't feel right commenting on it. "Come in," she told them when Steve knocked on her open door. She finished up the report she was typing and turned to them. "I hear you two have been busy."

They sat in the chairs across from Meg. Her blond hair was pulled back into a long, sleek ponytail. Her casual look. When she was in the field, she wore her hair up tight. Having it down made her look softer and more like the woman Mitch had cared for all those years ago.

A lifetime ago. It was all water under the bridge.

Steve began, "Like I told you earlier, we have a positive ID on Oliver Maddox. I sent off the flash drive found in his stomach to our office in Menlo Park. Don't know that we'll get anything off it, but it was in a t.i.tanium case. Instead of s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with it here, I thought it best to get an expert."

"Good." She made a note. "I'll follow up first thing in the morning."

"We have a missing person of interest. Professor Don Collier, Maddox's advisor, made a conflicting statement to the police. Maddox told his girlfriend he had a meeting scheduled with his advisor, but Collier told the police Maddox canceled the meeting. The girlfriend said Maddox was too excited about his project, and that Collier told her that Maddox didn't show up-he said nothing about Maddox canceling. We went to clarify with the professor and found out that he canceled his cla.s.ses for the day. We went to his residence, but he wasn't there."

"Do you have enough for a warrant?"

"Doubtful," Steve said. "We're digging a bit more into his background."

"I'll get in contact with the U.S. Attorney's office and give them a heads-up."

As always, crossing her t's and dotting her i's, Mitch thought. Meg wouldn't allow anything to slip by under her watch.

Steve filled Meg in on everything except their suspicion that Claire O'Brien was working on something related to Oliver Maddox. However, he said, "According to his girlfriend, Maddox was still working on the Thomas...o...b..ien case."

"The file says that the Project didn't take the case."

"True, they didn't. But Maddox was writing his thesis on it nonetheless, and he told his girlfriend that it was called 'The Perfect Frame.' "

"O'Brien's guilt was established in a court of law," Meg said. "We are here to uphold those laws. Whether he was wrongfully convicted is not something that our office considers."

Mitch leaned forward. "Hypothetically," he said, catching her eye, "if O'Brien was framed and Oliver Maddox found evidence for such, that is a strong motive for his murder."

"As far as I'm concerned, you have two separate cases here. You have a fugitive, and you have a homicide. Whether Maddox had information that may have exonerated Mr. O'Brien is irrelevant to the fact that O'Brien is a fugitive. I expect you both to be equally diligent on both a.s.signments. And don't forget that the Sacramento County Sheriff's Department has jurisdiction on the Maddox case. The only reason you two are still on it is because they asked for our a.s.sistance with the evidence, and they haven't told you to back off."

"If we find O'Brien, can we keep him in federal custody?" Mitch asked spontaneously.

"We have no cause. We'd keep him at the county jail until transport back to San Quentin or wherever the State of California wants to send him is arranged. We don't have jurisdiction over him. He was convicted in a California court, he is the state's problem. The only reason he's on our radar is because they asked us to help in tracking down the escapees. His crime wasn't federal."

"What if I could prove O'Brien is in danger if he's remanded to state custody?"

"What proof? More of the same you gave me when justifying disobeying my orders in February?"

Mitch let that dig slide. "Megan, there's something here. I can't prove it yet, but-"

She put up her hand to silence him. He hated when she did that. "Hard evidence, Mitch. I'm not going to go to bat for you without something solid. Not again."

He nodded. "Full disclosure," he said, glancing at Steve. "I befriended Claire O'Brien."

Meg stared at him, her jaw tightly shut. "Against my direct orders?"

"Yes, ma'am. I agreed to house-sit for Nolan while he's teaching at Quantico, and I ran into her by accident." Small lie. "I took the opportunity when I saw it."

Steve interjected. "Mitch informed me of the encounter and felt that he could learn more from Ms. O'Brien by working undercover than I was getting out of her during my periodic visits. I told him as long as he kept me in the loop, I thought it was a good idea. It's my case," Steve added.

Meg stared at the ceiling. Mitch recognized the posture. Frustration, but with a fatalistic what can I do about it demeanor. She turned her ice-green glare at Steve. "You knew I wanted Mitch off this case."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Agent Donovan, what do you think about the Maddox homicide? Does it relate to Thomas...o...b..ien in any way?"

"Based on our interviews to date," Steve said carefully, "it appears that in the course of researching Thomas...o...b..ien's trial, Maddox uncovered information that was d.a.m.ning to someone. It was during his private investigation that he disappeared. Whether directly or indirectly, whatever Maddox uncovered is related to O'Brien. And the fact that none of his research-his notes, his computer, his books-is anywhere to be found is another tip-off that there's something important in those doc.u.ments. He swallowed a flash drive. That suggests that he knew he was being followed and feared he'd be a.s.saulted for what was on the computer chip, and he had no other place to hide it.

"We have his phone records and he called a bar in Isleton the night he disappeared. Based on where his car was found in the river, we believe he did in fact reach his destination. We're heading there tonight to see if anyone remembers him, and if he met with anyone."

Meg had her hands on her desk. Authority suited her, Mitch realized. Even though she was a stickler for rules, she understood investigations. She was one of the best in the field because her instincts were so sharp. But she never admitted she had good instincts; she said it was a combination of intelligence and experience. But to Mitch, intelligence plus experience equaled old-fas.h.i.+oned street smarts.

"Follow the trail as long as it'll keep you moving. But we're not here to exonerate a convicted felon. We are here to apprehend him. And as far as the Maddox homicide is concerned, we are a.s.sisting the sheriff's department. Keep them in the loop. These are two separate cases until you find evidence that they are connected, and you'll treat them as such, understand?"

"Absolutely," Steve said.

She turned to Mitch. "Does Claire know where her father is hiding?"

"No. But I think she's heard from him recently," Mitch answered truthfully. "I suspect it was written communication, but I have no proof."

"Push her."

"She doesn't know I'm an agent-"

"I meant Donovan. You already screwed us on getting her for an accessory. She could pull out that you befriended her under false pretenses and didn't identify yourself as a federal agent. But I'm not interested in the daughter. I have some sympathy in this case. I just want O'Brien back in prison. And"-she added before Mitch could interject-"I'll keep him in our custody as long as I legally can." She made another note on her legal pad.

"I appreciate that."

"One more thing," Meg said and swiveled her chair. She picked up a remote and turned on the television behind her.

On the screen was a grainy black-and-white security feed.

"The tape from Redding came in," Steve said.

"Exactly. There's not a lot here, but I've watched it twice and there's no mistake. It's...o...b..ien."

They watched as a white, full-size American pickup truck pulled into the parking lot. Looked like a Dodge Ram, but Mitch wouldn't swear by it. A man exited from the pa.s.senger side. He was unidentifiable, wore a baseball cap low. He went around the side to where the restrooms presumably were.

Meg fast-forwarded, then stopped right before the man came into view.

There was no doubt about it. They only had one good glimpse, but when Meg paused it, Mitch recognized O'Brien. He'd darkened his hair a bit, sported a couple days' growth of graying beard. But it was him.

He jumped into the pa.s.senger seat and the truck pulled out.

"He's with someone," Mitch said, shocked.

"Bingo. Someone's helping him," Meg said.

"Who?" Steve asked.

"The driver isn't on tape. The license plates weren't visible. Believe me, I tried every which way, they aren't on tape. But there's no doubt a second person is in the car with O'Brien."

Mitch didn't know what to say. He had never considered that Tom had help on the outside.

"This makes it harder to track him," Steve said. "If he has help, that person may be able to hide him indefinitely."

"True, but it's clear that he's on the move. And from what you're telling me about his daughter, I'd say he's in town and made contact."

Mitch nodded. "We're on it."

"Good."

They left. "Thanks, Steve," Mitch said as they got back into Steve's car.

"We need to talk to Claire first. Or, rather, I do."

"I have an idea," Mitch said.

"Shoot."

"I'm meeting her at her place at six. Let me go there first. Then you come by about six thirty. Push her, and she's not going to give. But maybe-"

"I get you. Maybe when I leave, she'll vent to you."

"Exactly."

Steve started the car and shook his head. "d.a.m.n, Mitch, she's going to hate you."

"I know."

"What are we going to do about Isleton?"

Mitch wanted nothing more than to go to Isleton and see if anyone remembered Maddox. But right now, the more pressing case was Tom O'Brien's whereabouts. "Like Meg said, two separate cases. If we can't get down to Isleton tonight, we go down tomorrow."

Claire spent the entire drive home from Bill's house talking on her cell phone.

First Dave called. "Hey, I saw you driving away from Dad's. Why the rush?"

"I have plans." The truth. Sort of. She didn't want to cancel on Mitch, but she desperately wanted to go to Isleton and talk to Tip Barney, Frank Lowe's former employer and the owner of the ill-fated Tip's Blarney.

"I really need to talk to you."

"About what? Oh, I got the autopsy information from Phin, so if that's it-"

"No. What if I stop by tonight?"

"Can't you tell me over the phone?"

"Not really."

"Tonight is bad. I have to follow up on a Rogan-Carusorelated investigation." The lies were flowing easier now, and Claire s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably as she merged into heavy traffic on Highway 99. "Tomorrow?"

"I'm on duty."

"Call me when you're getting off and we'll meet up someplace, okay?"

"All right. Is everything okay?"

"Yes. I should ask you the same thing. You sound so serious."

"After our conversation last night-did you get the answers you needed from Dad?"

"Some of them. Dave, call me tomorrow, okay?"

She hung up and dialed information for the number of Janice Krause, Taverton's sister. Unlisted. She then called Jayne Morgan on her mobile for the phone number. Again, fibbing to Jayne about why she wanted it. Jayne didn't seem to care, and rattled off both a cell phone and home phone after a few moments.

"So I saw you were on the database this afternoon," Jayne said.

"I didn't see you, why didn't you say hi?"

"Saw is a relative term. I was monitoring the network from home. Who's Frank Lowe?"

"Some guy who died in a fire. I was just doing research."

"Hmm. Whatever. Need anything else?"

"Nope, thanks." She hung up. Odd. She dismissed her worry. She hadn't done anything illegal, and if the company got mad that she'd used their resources for personal business, she'd apologize and hope they didn't think it was egregious enough to fire her over.

Employment security was the last thing on her mind, however.

She was about to dial Mrs. Janice Krause when her cell rang. Caller ID read Phineas Ward and his cell number.

"Hi, Phin," she answered. "You work fast."

"Not fast enough."

"What?"

"There is no coroner's report on those homicides."

"What?" She sounded like a parrot.