Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
“Thank you for agreeing to see us.” Jax held out his hand. “Oliver Jaxton. This is my wife, Kenna.”
The detective seemed wary, his dark gaze shifting between them.
An African American man, he wore a smart watch and shined his shoes.
He had short hair and a tidy suit that didn’t look expensive.
There was nothing flashy about him. “Jordan Langley. I’m hoping we can be upfront with each other, so I’ll tell you I was given no choice but to offer you both my full cooperation. ”
Kenna didn’t like the sound of that, or her ideas about where those orders might’ve come from.
Behind Detective Langley, the brand-new apartment building in an area where commuters traveled into DC for work was overshadowed by the gray sky above.
A young woman in athleticwear exited, keys in one hand and a dog leash in the other.
The tiny Yorkie trotted over to the detective and sniffed his shoes before she tugged the dog along with her.
Jax said, “I’d love to know where the order to cooperate came from.”
Detective Langley shrugged. “Want to see the place or not?”
“Thanks,” Kenna said. “We appreciate your time, regardless of whether you had any choice in the matter.”
The six concrete steps up to the entrance preceded a long hall with mailboxes down one side and a rental office to the left. To the right were the first floor of apartments and the hall split in a T shape like a hotel.
The detective walked them up carpeted stairs to the second floor, and halfway down the hall he used a code on the lockbox before ducking under the police tape and entering the room.
“The victim, Steven Braughton, was twenty-six and he’d worked admin at the Pentagon for the past eight months.
No roommates, no family we could track down.
But I’m guessing he didn’t spring out of the ground with no parents. ”
Kenna nodded. “You think maybe it was a fake identity?”
Detective Langley wandered from the front door down a musty-smelling hallway to the living room. A single recliner, weight bench, a rack of dumbbells and one side table were the only furniture aside from the huge TV on the wall. The kitchen looked just as bare.
Kenna wanted to walk around but needed to see what the cop had to tell them first.
“We dug,” Langley said, “but his prints didn’t come up with anything else. And neither did running his image through facial recognition.”
“And you have to believe the Pentagon did their due diligence on a background check.” She glanced around, clocking the cleaned-up spot in the middle of the floor. “So, if there was anything to find, they’d probably have already discovered that he wasn’t who he was claiming to be.”
Jax chimed in, “Unless the military provided him with the name and background.”
“Pretty elaborate.” The detective stuck his hands in his pockets. “Why would they do that?”
“Who knows.”
Kenna surveyed the floor. “Pretty big pool of blood here.” Before it had been cleaned up. “When was he discovered?”
“Hadn’t paid his rent, so the manager stopped by. When he didn’t answer for a few days in a row, she let herself in.” Langley hissed out a breath between clenched teeth. “Nasty stuff.”
“Because the killer drained all his blood, or most of it?” She noted three scuff marks at equal points on the floor. “Did he set up some kind of tripod, or stand? Strung the guy up and let him bleed out.”
“That’s what our techs surmised. No one saw anything, and when we got here the contraption was gone. But they believe the killer set up a device and hung him from it. Slit his throat and a couple of other places and drained his blood onto the floor. Left him lying in it after he died.”
“You’re right. That is a nasty way to go,” Jax said. “Were there signs of torture?”
“None, and he had sticky residue from tape over his mouth left on his cheeks. No duress whatsoever. We believe he knew the killer.”
Kenna figured that was one theory. “Or he was resigned to dying. Knew they were coming for him and didn’t fight it. What’s the point?”
“Would anyone actually do that?” Langley asked. “I figure anyone would fight, even if they’re resigned.”
Kenna shrugged. “I’d love to talk to his coworkers, or neighbors, or his therapist.”
“I did.” Langley sounded a little perturbed.
“Good, because we don’t have time to do that.”
The detective glanced at his watch. “He kept to himself. No friends, and he didn’t speak much with his coworkers. Did his job and went home. No indication he was seeing anyone or had a therapist. No cell phone.”
Jax wandered to the window. “That you found, or he didn’t have one?” He looked back at them.
“By all appearances, he didn’t have one.” Langley shrugged. “No bill, nothing on his credit card except DoorDash and all the apps to stream TV and movies on demand. If we was ordering food, he must’ve had a burner would be my guess.”
Kenna looked around, putting her hands on her hips. It didn’t matter if this detective found out she was pregnant, and it wasn’t like she was keeping it a secret. She needed to stretch out her shoulders and think. Pace a little.
Langley shifted. “What’s your interest in this guy?”
She wanted to ask if he knew who she and Jax were, or the kinds of cases she usually worked, but there was nothing about her life lately that was “usual.” Instead, she asked him, “Did you come across any other deaths that followed a similar pattern, or did the FBI find any?”
“You think this is one on a list of victims?” His brows raised. “Like a serial killer?”
“More like a hit man,” Kenna said. “This guy knew something, or someone wanted to end his life to get him out of the way.”
“For reals?” The detective glanced between them. “Like a conspiracy?”
“Trust me,” Kenna said. “Stranger things have happened.”
She walked down the hall and looked at the bathroom, then the bedroom. This guy lived a simple life. He didn’t accumulate stuff. He didn’t have a past. No hobbies, no social media, no life. Just work and his recliner. Sleep. Exercise.
When she reached the living room, she said, “This place seems more like a cover. He hasn’t put down roots. He just needs a place to crash while he’s on this job. Then when it’s over, he moves to the next…assignment.”
Langley shrugged. “Great, how does anyone prove that?”
“Probably easier to look for other deaths with a similar MO. Or similar victim profile.”
“I’ll get right on that.” Langley didn’t move.
She didn’t comment on his belligerence, because in his situation she would’ve been as skeptical. “Any leads on who did this?”
“No fingerprints, no DNA left behind. Cameras were disabled. No witnesses.”
“Sounds like solving it will be an uphill battle.” Jax wandered to her side. “And you probably have a stack of open cases on your desk. So we won’t keep you from your work.”
“I’m not leaving you guys here to lock up.” Langley rocked back and forth on those shiny shoes. “How about you tell me what your interest is in this case before I escort you both out.”
“We believe Steven Braughton was on a list of victims, possibly one of many.” Jax surveyed the markings she’d spotted on the floor. “He’s the first we’ve looked into, and finding the perpetrator isn’t currently our primary focus.”
Langley eyed them. “Good to know you aren’t going to show up at my office with a lead that will hand me the killer.”
Kenna said, “Don’t rule that out. We do good work.”
The detective smiled slightly. “Noted.”
Jax said, “We don’t believe the murder was connected to Steven’s work at the Pentagon, or that it’s connected to some vast government conspiracy.”
“At least not as far as the usual clandestine operations go,” Kenna added.
She sort of disagreed with her husband on that one, but Langley didn’t need to dig in something involving Dominatus and end up getting himself killed.
“So watch your back, make sure you’re not under surveillance, and just stick to your regular duties. ”
“Interesting.” The detective made a note on his phone.
Jax said, “If you come across any deaths you believe are connected, could you send the information our way?”
Langley nodded.
“Thanks.” Kenna returned his nod. “We’d appreciate it.”
“What other cases are you working?” He glanced between them, a passive expression on his face.
This guy was a solid cop who didn’t let his emotions get mixed up with his work. She wasn’t sure how he’d be with a victim and what level of empathy he’d have to draw from, but hoped he had compassion in his arsenal.
Kenna said, “Nothing that intersects with this so far as we know.”
Except that the two men in Boston who’d kidnapped teenage girls had a military connection. This case had a military connection. It was only the bombing that didn’t fit. Unless it was the piece that made it all go together into some kind of grand plan.
“I suppose that’s some kind of answer.” Langley herded them to the door and locked it after they’d assembled in the hall. He handed over his business card. “Don’t forget to call if you come up with something.”
Kenna nodded, and Jax shook the guy’s hand.
Langley headed for the stairs, and she looked at the other doors on this floor.
Jax touched her back. “Want to talk to the neighbors?”
“The police would’ve done it.” She shook her head. “I’d rather help the lawyers fight the charges than investigate a murder when I already know who did it.”
“Your ghost?”
“He’s not my anything.”
“Sorry. You know what I mean.”
Kenna gave him a quick hug. “Let’s get to the car. Call Maizie and see what she’s come up with.”
He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call a friend at the FBI and find out who’s investigating this. They can tell me if a connection has been made to any other cases.”
“Good idea.” Kenna didn’t imagine it would be easy to do that. “The victims won’t fit a pattern in demographics, physical features, or geography. The murders were probably all committed using a different method. Could be there’s no way for anyone to connect them.”
“Or he left no prints and no DNA at any scene, and that’s what we can use to nail him.”
Kenna glanced at him, one brow raised. “Wanna let me in on how that works? Because if you can’t prove he did it, how can you prove he did it?”
“Exactly.” He shrugged, and they headed down the carpeted staircase.
“Right.”
Jax chuckled. “I just mean that the absence of evidence is sometimes enough of a connection to at least build a profile of this guy.”
“A profile of what? He’s good at what he does.
That’s all we know apart from the body count we’re going to gather.
Probably won’t even be all of them.” She could see him in her mind, staring at her through that window.
“He’s sick and twisted. He also apparently disappears better than anyone I’ve ever hunted.
Someone has to be funding this guy’s ability to remain under the radar, or simply protecting him. Someone with serious resources.”
“Are we certain it’s not Petyr, or President Tetherton?”
“I don’t see how we can rule them out. Apart from the fact their fear that all the offspring would be killed seemed genuine enough.”
Jax stopped on the top step outside, where it had started to rain a little. He clicked the button on his key fob to start the car engine. Across the street, the headlights flashed and it started.
Someone straightened beside Langley’s car, but they were Caucasian and not the detective.
“It’s…him.” Kenna barely managed to choke the words out.
“Stay here.” Jax took off running toward him.
The ghost spun and sprinted away down the street.
Over by the car, Jax yelled, “Langley is down!”
Kenna pulled out her phone to call 911 and headed for the detective.
She found him slumped against his car, a trail of blood down the outside of the car door. He touched a hand to the blood soaking his shirt over his abdomen, blinking in shock.
She peeled off her coat and pressed it against the wound. “Hang on.”