Charlie
B ecca Elliot once again sat on the hood of her car; her gaze fixed on her sister’s two-story home.
She still couldn't comprehend what had taken place inside the walls. Her thoughts were dominated with pain and death, her sister running for her life only to be gunned down in her kitchen. The police detective assigned to the case had contacted her that morning, asking that she meet him here.
“Miss Elliot,” his familiar voice startled her out of her dark thoughts.
“Detective Davis,” she greeted him, having found him standing beside her. She’d been so trapped by her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard him drive up. She glanced behind her car. Sure enough, his silver sedan was parked there.
“I know you don’t agree with the findings, but the coroner is standing behind his ruling. The investigation has officially been closed. I'll be taking the crime scene tape down. You may enter the house now.”
Her gaze flickered to the yellow police tape that surrounded the house and swayed in the unseasonably warm seventy-two-degree breeze.
“I have to warn you, though, you know, the condition it is in.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I will contact that crime scene clean-up company you suggested.”
She didn’t expect that anyone had cleaned the mess up. And since it had sat this long, she could only guess how hard it would be to clean up all the blood. The girls’ mattresses would have to be hauled away. And their rooms would have to be painted. So would the kitchen. The hardwood floors would have to be stripped and sanded. What she really wanted to do was just take a match to it and burn the house to the ground.
“Again, I'm sorry for your loss,” the detective said. He paused for a moment. “You should take some time. Go away somewhere. You know, take care of yourself.”
She didn’t look at him. She stared straight ahead at her sister and brother-in-law’s house, where so many happy memories were made. “Nick didn’t do this,” she told him for at least the fortieth time.
“I know you believe that, but you just never know what some people will do.” He’d told her that before. He doubted she'd believe him now. He watched her for a few seconds. “Are you still planning to pursue a private investigator to look into it?”
For the first time, she faced him. “Wouldn’t you? I know Nick didn’t do this,” she said, her confidence unwavering. “Whoever did it has to be caught.”
“Look, I’m not agreeing with you, but if you’re going to do this, I know of this group who may be able to help. They’re good. I don’t know for sure if they take this kind of case or what they charge, but I know they’re legit and won’t rip you off.” He brought up a contact app on his phone and searched for the group he was thinking of. “If there’s anything to your, if it wasn’t your brother-in-law, this group can figure it out and will refer actionable items back to the Schaumburg Police Department. They’re mostly ex-military and are thorough.”
Reading between the lines, she surmised that this group he was referring her to was respected enough that they’d be believed. She was encouraged by the detective’s offer. Could he believe the coroner was wrong? “Yes, thank you. I'll take the name and phone number.” She plugged the contact info into her phone as he read it off to her. “Thank you, Detective,” she said.
“Miss Elliot, Becca,” he said more gently, “take care of yourself.” Then he crossed the street and took down the crime scene tape.
After he drove away, Becca dialed the phone number he'd given her.
Angel was at her desk at the Shepherd Security Building, working on budget spreadsheets. She saw the incoming call on the public agency line. They received very few legitimate agency calls on that line. It was normally solicitation cold calls. “Shepherd Security, how may I help you?” she answered, expecting the normal sales call.
Becca was put at ease by the pleasant female voice that answered the phone. She’d had wagered it would have been a gruff male voice. “Hello. I was given this number by Detective Davis with the Schaumburg Police Department. He thought you might be able to help me,” she said.
“May I have your name please?” Angel asked, more than a little surprised.
“Becca, Rebecca Elliot.”
“Hello, Miss Elliot, may I call you Becca?”
“Yes, please do.”
“My name is Angel. Is the number you’re calling from the best number to reach you at?”
“Yes, it’s my cell.”
“May I inquire about the nature of the work you have for our agency?”
“The police have wrongly determined a crime, and I need someone to re-investigate it.”
“And what is the nature of the crime?” Angel asked.
“My sister and her entire family were killed. The police believe my brother-in-law did it, murder-suicide. But they’re wrong. I know he didn’t.”
“Is the police case still open?” Angel asked.
“No, they closed it this morning.”
Angel knew it had to be that horrific local crime that had happened just over a week ago. It had hit close to home for her, two little kids killed while they slept in their beds. It had been all over the news. “Okay, here’s what will happen next. I’ll refer this to the head of the agency, and he’ll determine if we’ll discuss it further with you. Either way, I’ll be back in touch with you within twenty-four hours.”
Becca was left feeling disappointed when the call was terminated. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but that hadn’t been it.
At the Shepherd Security Building, Angel walked down the hall to Shepherd’s office. She knew he was in between calls and meetings. She rapped once loudly on the door and then opened it and went in. “Morning, boss,” she greeted.
Shepherd stood at his desk. “Good morning, Angel. What do you have for me?”
“I got the end of the month spreadsheets done and opened April’s. Did you get outside this morning? It’s beautiful out.”
Shepherd’s lips pulled into a grin. “Yes, Diana made me go for a walk outside with her this morning.”
Angel smiled and nodded. She adored Shepherd’s wife. “We just received a call on the public agency line from a Rebecca Elliot, referred to us by Detective Davis from the Schaumburg Police Department.” She knew that Shepherd would remember the name. She didn’t have to remind him that he’d been the detective who investigated Shereese’s murder in their building a few years earlier.
“Really?” Shepherd asked. It was very rare they’d get a case referred to them by local law enforcement.
“The triple murder-suicide last week. Our caller said the police closed the case this morning, but she believes they got it wrong. She’s related to the family.”
“Can you get her info to the Digital Team and have them check her and the dead family out? Then I’ll decide if we’re going to talk to her.”
“Will do,” Angel said.
“Anything else?”
Angel went over the last few items she had for him and then left him to his next call.
When Shepherd received the report from the Digital Team on the Rebecca Elliot case later that day, he discussed it with Cooper, his number two in charge at the agency, and with Jackson and Garcia, who shared the number three role.
“I would like to at least bring the Elliot woman in and talk to her about the case,” Shepherd said. “I’m not saying we’re taking the case. That will be for you to decide, Jackson.”
“I’d like to talk to the detective before that meeting takes place,” Jackson said.
Shepherd nodded. “Garcia, I see on the report that Brielle was lead. Can she handle this case?” He knew this one would be rough, two dead kids. Brielle was not only a member of the Digital Team, but she was the wife of one of the Operators. The couple had a nine-month-old son.
“Yes, she can handle it. I think she’d be pretty pissed if you took her off it at this point,” Garcia answered.
“Okay. I want her in the meeting with the client. And pull in Tessman. He needs a case such as this. He’s a good Operator, but needs to develop his soft skills,” Shepherd said. “If we accept this case, we’ll staff the three of you, for starters. Let me know if you need more assets.”
Jackson nodded.
“The PGP Install Team gets back into town tonight. Let’s pull Burke from the install team. He can take Tessman’s place on the CIA Referral Case,” Cooper said.
Shepherd nodded his approval. They wrapped up the remainder of the agenda items and the meeting ended.
***
Becca Elliot had programmed the phone number to Shepherd Security into her phone, so the name displayed when the incoming call came just twenty hours after her initial call to them. She said a short prayer that the call was to say they would accept her case before she answered the call. “Hello, this is Rebecca Elliot.”
“Hi, Becca, this is Angel from Shepherd Security.”
“Hi, Angel.” She waited, hoping, but also mentally preparing herself for the possible decline.
“We’d like to schedule a time for you to come in and speak to our investigators for us to determine if this is a case we’d take on,” Angel said.
That disappointed her. She thought if they wanted her to come in, that would mean they were taking her case. She expressed this thought to Angel.
“I’d say the chances are good,” Angel said. “Your case made it past the initial screening.”
“Okay, I hope you’re right. I,” she started but then paused. She knew it wasn’t right to plead her case to who she assumed was a receptionist. “I’m sorry. I’m sure there is a process. And I’m sure your agency doesn’t take every case that knocks on your door.”
Angel heard the desperation in her voice. “Can you come in this afternoon?”
“Yes, I can. Thank you.”
The appointment was set for two-thirty. Becca arrived at the ten-story building located on the ring road around the large Woodfield Mall at just past two. She had spent many hours shopping and eating at the many restaurants over the years and never knew a private detective agency was here.
She perused the building directory and was surprised how few businesses were in the building. There was a veterinarian, jeweler, coffee shop, and dentist on the ground floor. That seemed an odd mix. There were quite a few medical-type practitioners throughout the building, including a large chiropractic office that took up most of the second floor, by the looks of it. There was a beauty shop and several nondescript LLCs. Several floors appeared vacant, or at least no tenant was listed on the directory.
After several minutes of killing time, she rode the elevator to the fifth floor, where Shepherd Security was listed as the sole occupant of the floor. She found herself standing in front of a heavy black door with gold lettering. The door was on the wall to the left of the elevator.
Tessman still had no clue why he’d been slotted for this case. He’d never been staffed on a private security case before. That was normally Alpha or Bravo Team’s gig. But here he sat at Shepherd’s conference table with Shepherd, Cooper, Jackson, and Brielle, discussing a triple murder-suicide case.
Brielle had done the initial research into the deceased and the potential client. If they accepted the case, she’d be dedicated to it. She’d even meet with the potential client immediately after this meeting, as would he. He and Jackson would be primary on it. Cooper would just be sitting in on this meeting to help vet the case to make the decision if the agency was accepting it or not. Cooper and the rest of the team he’d just been pulled from were deploying later that afternoon on the CIA Referral Case. Had this case not popped up, he’d be deploying on it. He would admit he was pissed he’d been pulled from it after nearly two days of prep work.
“Jackson and I spoke with the detective from the Schaumburg Police Department,” Shepherd said. “It’s not that he disagrees with the findings of the coroner. He just wishes he’d been able to investigate further to satisfy Miss Elliot’s concerns, which he admits are valid.”
“I don’t get why he couldn’t,” Tessman said.
“Department staffing constraints,” Jackson said. “Right after this horrendous case hit, that politician’s murder happened that still is not solved. He was higher profile.”
“And rigid policies. The coroner determines COD and once the verdict is in, the case is closed,” Shepherd added.
“But Jackson’s right. Senator Henshaw’s murder commanded a higher priority than some suburban family, where all signs pointed to a soccer dad going off the rails,” Cooper chimed in.
“And this case appeared cut and dried on the surface,” Shepherd said. “Detective Davis has five more open cases, including Senator Henshaw’s murder, and no time to dig deeper just to cross his T’s and dot his I’s on this one.”
“Either the husband did it or he didn’t,” Tessman said.
“And that’s what we’re going to take a look at with fresh eyes if we take this case,” Jackson said.
Tessman scanned the electronic file on his tablet, flipping through the content. “The deceased lived in a normal-looking neighborhood. Did any of the neighbors report the gunshots?”
“No,” Jackson answered. “It happened the night of that thunderstorm. There was a lot of thunder and lightning. I’m sure the neighbors just assumed the shots were thunder.”
“Convenient timing,” Tessman remarked. “If the husband did it, it was planned just like we planned Ops to get cover from clouds, rain, or thunder. Was this guy prior military?”
“No,” Brielle answered. “And the husband had no history of mental illness. There’s been no past police activity at the residence. I combed through their medical insurance claims for the past five years. There are no visits to counselors or therapists to indicate marital problems or depression, and there were no meds taken by either Nicole or Nick DeSoto,” Brielle recapped her findings. “And there were no financial issues either. They have credit scores over eight hundred.”
“So that begs the question as to why this guy would suddenly decide to kill his entire family and then himself,” Jackson said.
“If it’s a case, you’ll try to figure that out,” Shepherd said.
“The police didn’t find a motive, so even if we determine this guy really did it, maybe we can at least determine the why to give our client some closure,” Jackson said.
“Continue with what you found on the deceased, Brielle,” Shepherd said after he’d nodded his approval at Jackson’s comment.
“Both were employed at Well-Life Pharmaceuticals, Mrs. in the marketing department, and Mr. in the scientific division.”
“Does that mean he was a scientist developing drugs?” Tessman asked.
“His title and division were all I could get, but I believe so as Mr. Nick DeSoto does hold a PHD in chemistry,” Brielle said.
“Do you think their employment has any bearing on what happened?” Jackson asked.
“Right now, everything has bearing,” Shepherd said.
“If we accept this case, you need to look at every aspect of their lives,” Cooper said.
“You meet with the Elliot woman at fourteen-thirty,” Shepherd said. “I’ll expect your decision on whether we should take this case by fifteen-thirty. Cooper and the rest of the team are due to leave for the airfield by sixteen hundred.”
“One note on the potential client, Rebecca Elliot,” Brielle said. “She’s an attorney.”
“Is she also employed at Well-Life Pharmaceuticals?” Tessman asked with a groan.
“No, she works for a firm in Chicago that specializes in trusts, wills, and other estate issues,” Brielle said.
“I would think she set up her sister and brother-in-law’s wills and should know the contents,” Cooper said.
Brielle shrugged. She didn’t have any information about that.
“Find that out too,” Shepherd said. “Also, for this case, no one discloses their federal creds to Miss Elliot. We don’t want questions from her. As far as she knows, we are a private security firm. That’s all Detective Davis disclosed to her.”
“I’m thinking we should just decline this case outright,” Cooper said.
“We’ve already set up the initial meeting. We decide after talking with her. If you decide we should decline this case, I’ll want justification for that as well as if you decide to accept it,” Shepherd said.
They all came to their feet, knowing they’d just been dismissed. Having a good fifteen minutes to kill before the client meeting, Tessman jogged up the stairs to his office. Wilson and Burke, his two Team members who were deploying on the next CIA Referral Case, were in Burke’s office on the seventh floor. He wanted to catch them before the client meeting.
“Hey,” he greeted them, coming into Burke’s office. Burke had been staffed in his place when he’d been pulled for the Elliot Case. “Did you get enough time to review that case file, Burke?”
“I’ll review it while we’re en route,” Burke said. “I’m sorry you were pulled from this one. I know you had put in a lot of time on it already.”
Tessman’s eyes shifted to Wilson. “It all pays the same,” he said, borrowing Wilson’s favorite phrase.
“I’d say Tessman caught a good one to be staffed on,” Wilson said. “I wish I’d been slotted for it.”
“That’s just because it’s local and you’d rather be on it so you could be home with Rae and Lilly instead of flying out to Boise today.”
Wilson snickered and both Tessman and Burke laughed, but Wilson didn’t actually respond.
“At least he isn’t saying it isn’t like that,” Tessman added, his teasing gaze now fixed on Burke.
Now Wilson laughed. Rich Burke had yet to come clean about his relationship with a woman who had three children Burke was playing daddy to. They were in Virginia, which was where Burke had been spending all his time off the past few months. Whenever Burke was asked or teased about his relationship with the woman, his reply was always ‘it isn’t like that’.
Burke laughed out loud. “Fuck you, Tessman. Wilson gets it. And believe it or not, he was just saying how he would have liked to be assigned to the Elliot case to increase the type of cases he’s considered for.”
“ Team’s time turning screwdrivers on the PGP Project is coming to an end,” Wilson said. “I want a variety of cases I’m assigned to going forward.”
“I thought they all paid the same?” Tessman teased.
“They do, but the private security cases have the potential to keep me closer to home, closer to Rae and Lilly. They also are more likely to not come with drug-dealing scumbags shooting at me,” Wilson said.
“Yeah, I hear you on that one. I think we’ve all had more than our fair share of the DEA Partner Missions, but they’re not going away anytime soon,” Tessman admitted.
“I agree with Taco,” Burke said. “I want a wide range of different types of cases. I heard Shepherd is considering a security contract out at O’Hare investigating and securing international shipments of cargo. I’d like to know what kind of cargo requires armed guards.”
“Who’d you hear that from?” Wilson asked.
“Eddie Winston,” Burke said. Winston was on Bravo Team.
“Where the fuck would Winston have heard that?” Tessman asked.
“Probably from Shepherd himself, or Flores,” Wilson said.
“With Bravo Team just looking to ride out their time until retirement, for the most part, I don’t doubt that Shepherd is looking for profitable ways to keep them working on reasonably safe missions as well as assignments that are close to home as they have said they want some time in one place for the most part,” Burke said. “I get it. We were doing the same thing they were doing for the last few years; in that we traveled nonstop. I’d say we had it better with the PGP Installs we were doing. At least we didn’t have to put up with entitled assholes like they did, protecting ungrateful and often uncooperative clients.”
“Yeah, and a contract at O’Hare will allow them to rotate in those with families too,” Tessman said. “Like you, Wilson.” His gaze shifted to Burke. “And maybe you, if you ever classify your relationship and move Donna and her kids here.”
“Really, it’s not like that,” Burke said. “And she has no intention of moving here.”
Tessman just shook his head. Burke’s relationship was none of his business, which was good because he didn’t understand it. “Anyway, we meet with the potential client soon and get this. She’s an attorney. Cooper thinks we should decline the case outright.”
“Because she’s an attorney?” Wilson asked.
Tessman shrugged. “He didn’t voice his thoughts until Brielle said she was an attorney.”
Wilson whistled. “I take back that I wish that case was mine. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Tessman said with sarcasm. “Anyway, good luck with the Op. I have a feeling this case will be a no go and I’ll be heading to up-state New York to join the PGP Team later today.”
“It all pays the same,” Wilson said.
Tessman snickered and then left.