Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
Eric had popped by Howard University Hospital before heading over to Stevie Cross’s residence.
While his relationship with Sandra was serious enough, it felt past time to be meeting the woman who meant so much to her.
He’d heard the stories about how Margo and her husband adopted Sandra and her twin brother when they were twelve years old.
Before that the children had spent two years of bouncing around in various foster homes.
Margo had been a huge help for Sandra through the loss of her brother.
Dana had been expecting him and said it was lovely to meet a friend of Sandra’s.
Dana introduced him to Margo Davenport as a friend of hers.
This was something she’d prepared Eric for before entering Margo’s room.
She didn’t want to confuse Margo by mentioning Sandra in case she didn’t know who she was at that moment.
Eric had known before from Sandra that Margo had Alzheimer’s, but he wasn’t prepared for what he saw.
Doctors had run their battery of tests, and they had visibly taken their toll.
The results still weren’t in, and that fact twisted a knot in Eric’s stomach.
Sometimes delays could result from backlogs in the lab.
It could also be that the results were clear, and doctors were left scrambling to figure out what to suggest for treatment.
But it was the third possibility he could conceive that filled him with dread.
They had found something and were delaying with the dispensing of that news until Sandra was present.
When this long day ended and reality sank in, he’d be there for Sandra.
Eric was thinking back on all this as he walked into Cross’s home.
Officer Bingham came over with something in his hands and passed it off to Eric.
It was a memorial card with the photo of a young man in his twenties.
His name was Sullivan Perkins, and the service was held nine months ago.
Not a son of Cross’s or he’d have the surname. “Where did you find this?”
“Stuffed into the back of a desk drawer in the home office.”
“Great find. This could be the lead we’ve been looking for.” It was the first personal connection for Cross they’d uncovered that held promise.
Bingham dipped his head and returned to the deeper parts of the house, while Eric went to his car. He keyed Sullivan Perkins into the onboard computer. The results weren’t enlightening on their own, but he clicked on his mother’s name to bring up her background. Her maiden name was Cross.
Bingo! Eric pulled his phone as it started to ring. “Birch here,” he answered, briefly catching Lieutenant Coleman on the caller ID. “You’re just the person I was about to call.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, me first. Feeney’s laptop gave us the identities of two more hostage takers, leaving us only needing to find out the woman’s name in the boardroom. I’ll get another officer to Tom Sparling’s house, but I need you to check on Shane Perkins.”
Eric stiffened. “You said Perkins?”
“Yes.”
“Huh. Small world. I just found out that Stevie Cross would be Shane Perkins’s uncle.”
Neal was silent for a few beats. “Mind bringing me up to speed on how you got there?”
Eric did so, and when he finished, Neal said, “Then let me get this straight. Stevie Cross let his nephew into the server room at Founders?”
“Sounds like it, which would explain why Cross tried to mislead us by providing a false description of this person’s looks and then giving us Hartley’s name.”
“He didn’t want to betray his nephew.”
“Yep. Well, I’ll get right over to Shane’s house. Address?”
Neal provided it to him and an overview of what they knew about Shane, which wasn’t much. Twenty-five and a graduate of MIT.
“Consider me there already.” Eric ended the call and got on the road.
Soon after, he was parking in the lot for Perkins’s apartment building. After clearing his presence with the building manager and getting the key, he let himself into unit 215.
The place smelled strongly of lemon cleaner, making Eric draw another breath in the hallway before stepping inside.
After shutting the door, he turned around and got his first look at the unit.
The rather open-concept layout allowed Eric to see the living room, past it to the kitchen and a small dining area all from the door.
All that was out of view was where the hallway led to off on the right.
Eric set out, and nothing flagged. Unless one counted the orderliness. Though maybe Eric was influenced by the fact as a young man, he was never this meticulous.
He found a few photographs of Perkins with his late brother. The two had looked like they were close.
Eric returned to the living room, eyeing a bookshelf that was organized alphabetically by author. A chair next to it with an overhanging floor lamp and a side table completed the picture of a perfect reading nook.
A hardcover textbook on tax law sat on the table.
A strange reading choice for a tech major.
Eric picked it up with gloved hands. There was no bookmark slipped between the pages, so had Perkins yet to start reading?
Or had he finished? And did it even matter to the ongoing incident?
Eric wasn’t sure it did and went to return it to the table.
As he did, he caught the edge of the book and lost his grip on it.
The textbook fell to the floor and splayed open, facing down.
Eric picked it up and noticed a checkout envelope at the back. This was taken from a library outside of Perkins’s neighborhood. Maybe it was closer to where Perkins worked. But the fall had knocked out something else. A piece of paper was poking out from the front top corner.
What the…
He opened the cover and discovered it was tucked between the inner lining and the hardshell of the book. Someone had deliberately separated them. He pulled the piece of paper out and read the handwriting.
This is the last communication. We’ll be doing it Monday, May 5th.—Alaya Princess
Good to go.—Broken Bridge
Ready to do this.—Drained Dry
May fifth was today, and these names struck him as usernames. Possibly the same ones used on that website forum that Neal had mentioned. Time to call this in.