CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Faith and Jessica got lunch to go and took it back to the hotel. There were no news vans waiting in the hotel’s parking lot, so Bridgette hadn’t figured out where they were staying, at least.
They ate in silence, Turk included. The pallor of that morning’s disaster hung over them like a cloud.
But they had to keep working. Innocent lives depended on it.
“I want to explore the connection between Entwhistle and Hayes,” Faith said. “We know they worked together, and we know they both ran afoul of Daniels. I want to know what specifically Hayes’ problem with Daniels was and if there’s any more dirt that could connect the two.”
Jessica nodded. She opened her laptop and began searching for information in the TSA’s records. Her shoulders were bunched tightly, her lips nearly bloodless. “Jon called,” she said as an aside. “He saw us on the news. He thinks we should cool off until things blow over.”
Faith’s heart sank to her chest. “Shit. I’m so sorry, Jessica.”
She shrugged, a quick lift and drop of her bunched shoulders. “Well, that’s the job, right? Not everyone can handle what we do.”
Faith didn’t know what to say to that. Part of her thought Jon was a world-class loser for dumping Jessica over some spin-doctored news report.
Another part of her understood that he and Jessica had been on one date, and she was now in the news screaming at reporters and possibly defaming an innocent man.
The last part wasn’t true, but again, spin-doctored.
It was just shitty. It was all shitty.
“Huh,” Jessica said. “That’s interesting.”
Faith’s mind rushed back to the case. “What is it?”
“Looks like Entwhistle and Hayes were involved in an incident at Thurgood Marshall five years ago.”
“What kind of incident?”
“The Unibrow Bomber.”
Faith frowned. “The what?”
“Yeah, that’s another example of journalistic idiocy for you.
The Unibrow Bomber was a student at the University of Baltimore who made a suitcase bomb that he intended to detonate on a flight to Los Angeles.
He had a unibrow, hence the childish pun.
The bomb instead detonated in the baggage handling area of Thurgood Marshall.
It killed five baggage handlers and two TSA agents.
One of the baggage handlers held on for about three days before her family chose to pull the plug.
” She turned to Faith. “You seriously don’t remember? It was big news.”
“Vaguely, but I lived in Philadelphia at the time,” Faith said, “and I try not to watch the news.”
“Ah, right. Well, you might want to start.”
Faith gave a half smile. “That’s what Michael says.”
Jessica tensed, and Faith’s smile vanished as she remembered that both Michael and Jessica were involved in David’s investigation into the CIA.
Both were already in danger just to help Faith’s husband.
If Jessica lost her job with the FBI, she would lose what little protection the job provided.
Faith was certain the CIA wasn’t aware of Jessica’s involvement yet, but…
well, yet was a big word. Michael had friends in the NSA, and if he got into trouble, he might be able to work his way out of it, but Jessica didn’t have the same connections.
She shouldn’t have let Jessica help. She should have said no, and when Jessica fought her, she should have stood her ground.
But she didn’t. And now Jessica was in danger of her career and her life.
“Anyway,” Jessica said. “The TSA’s EOD tech who responded to the incident, Kylie Wilton, went on record blaming the supervisors involved for how the incident was handled.
This was a sensation for a little while because the TSA’s official position was that the K9 handler was at fault.
Wilton claimed they scapegoated the handler, but it was the supervisors who mismanaged things.
” Faith’s ears perked up, and Jessica said, “Not Daniels. Someone named Sandra Yeun. She took her own life about six weeks after the incident.”
“Jesus.”
“You know, I wonder sometimes why we call His name whenever we hear about the Devil’s work?
” Before Faith could figure out how to respond to that, Jessica continued.
“Anyway, Wilton was, of course, terminated, ostensibly for an unrelated cause, but obviously because she threw the TSA under the bus.”
“Interesting,” Faith said. “We should go talk to Miss Wilton. Maybe that handler is our guy. If not, then she might have information about that incident that can lead us to the killer.”
“We should talk to her. Indoors. Somewhere not public.” Jessica sighed and ran her hands glumly through her hair. “Well, now that we know it’s not Craig Daniels, we know we’re on the hook for that defamation suit.”
Faith lowered her eyes. Turk whined again, and Jessica shrugged. “Well, we don’t know for sure, and that’s for later, anyway. Let’s go talk to Kylie and see what she has to say.”
The three agents left the hotel. Still no news vans in the parking lot, but Faith could feel them lurking, Bridgette’s plastic smile like the grin of the Cheshire Cat hovering in the air.
We’re all mad here, the cat had told Alice when she expressed reluctance at meeting the other inhabitants of Wonderland. Then he’d watched, leering, as Alice fell ever deeper into the hole.
Rather than take Faith’s now-recognizable Crown Victoria, they walked a mile to a rental agency and rented a Nissan Rogue in plain white.
It looked and drove like a generic crossover of the sort legions of commuters drove all across the nation.
It wouldn’t provide much protection from prying eyes, but at least it wouldn’t scream “Hey everyone! Faith Bold is here!”
Kylie Wilton didn’t have a place of business listed, but she did have a website titled The Care and Feeding of a Careless Life that appeared to be a sort of low-budget travel blog highlighting inexpensive spots to live and play around the United States.
They tried her address instead, hoping to catch her at her apartment.
She lived in the ritzy neighborhood of Fells Point, so she couldn’t be living on that low of a budget.
Her building was a nine-story steel and glass structure with its own private dock that sported dozens of sport boats and a few thirty-foot mini-yachts resplendent in white paint with gold and blue livery.
“Yeah, she’s definitely not hurting for cash,” Jessica said.
“Doesn’t mean she’s not hurting in other ways,” Faith reminded her.
Turk trotted lightly on the boardwalk leading to the door as though afraid it would collapse underneath him and dump him into the ocean.
There were a few residents at the pool—not many because of the overcast—but they didn’t seem too interested in the agents.
Hopefully it would stay that way. Faith really didn’t want to deal with any more publicity, even cell phones and social media.
The concierge, a sharply dressed young man with thin features and a permanent sneer to his lips, increased the angle of that sneer when he saw Turk. “Oh, I’m sorry. We don’t allow pets here.”
“Good to know,” Faith replied. “I’ll make sure to leave my goldfish at home.”
The concierge’s sneer deepened, but he saw the FBI K9 Unit Do Not Approach labeled on Turk’s vest and decided he wasn’t going to win this argument.
They took the elevator to the fifth floor. Kylie’s unit was 525, a one-bedroom suite that faced the ocean. Faith could hear music playing when they reached the door, so Kylie was home. That was confirmed when she answered quickly after the first knock, unusual for a suspect.
“What?” she snapped when she saw the three of them.
She was on the shorter side, five-two or -three, with short, straight black hair and brown eyes conveying a fierce expression behind thin-lensed glasses.
She was in her late thirties and dressed like she was fifteen years younger than that.
She wore a cargo shirt above a t-shirt that said BITE ME SWEETLY and a pair of cutoff jean shorts that ended well above the knee.
She was barefoot, and judging by the callouses peeking out from under her toes, she was barefoot a lot.
“Good afternoon, Miss Wilton,” Faith said. “I’m Special Agent Faith Bold, and—”
“And you’ve come to harass me like you harassed that poor dockworker?”
“He wasn’t a dockworker, and we didn’t harass him,” Jessica replied. “I’m Special Agent Jessica Torres. This is our K9 unit, Turk.”
Turk barked professionally. Kylie looked at him, and her expression softened somewhat. “Hey, boy. They treating you right?”
Turk barked again and leaned briefly against Faith.
“That’s good,” Kylie replied. She looked at Faith, and the softness vanished. “I was taking classes at Baltimore City Community College during both murders.”
Faith blinked. She wasn’t used to people anticipating her questions. “I didn’t say we were here to—”
“But you are, and I’m innocent, and I have an alibi, and you can follow up on it.
I was in class from one in the afternoon to ten at night two days ago and seven in the morning until three in the afternoon the next morning.
Call the college, and you’ll see me on camera.
” She smiled sweetly. “I’m studying to be a journalist.”
I’ll bet you are. “We’ll look into that. In the meantime, we’d still like to ask you a few questions.”
“I’d like to make out with Chappell Roan,” Kylie fired back. “Neither of us are gonna get what we want.”
“Why are you being so hostile?” Jessica asked. “We haven’t accused you of anything.”
“Because you guys are just like every other fucking asshole who thinks they can throw their weight around and hurt innocent people. Let me ask you something, Agent. You think Craig Daniels is the first person whose life got fucked up because you cared more about your job than people?”
Faith rubbed her eyes. “You know what? We don’t have time for this.”
“Of course not. And when you’re done with me, you won’t have time for me ever again. But my neighbors are going to know that the fucking FBI visited me. Think they’ll care that I effortlessly proved my innocence? Honestly, what do you think happens to the people you talk to?”
“I think two people were murdered in their own homes,” Faith replied. “I think I’m going to advocate for them. We’ll follow up on your alibi here. On your doorstep. Special Agent Torres?”
“On it,” Jessica replied.
“While she’s doing that,” Faith said. “Tell me why you think Jackson Entwhistle and Raelynn Hayes died.”
“Because they’re fucking pricks. They deserved it.”
“Why?”
“Because they blamed everyone else for their mistakes.”
Interesting. That could indicate a revenge motive for their killer. “You’re saying that Jackson Entwhistle and Raelynn Hayes were responsible for the disaster at Thurgood Marshall?”
“Yeah. It’s fucking obvious to anyone who can think.”
Faith was starting to get sick of Kylie’s attitude. “Hey, good for you. You know the F word. Do you know any words that might help me find the serial murderer?”
Kylie scoffed and looked over Faith’s shoulder. Turk snorted, not a growl but a stern enough sound that Kylie’s brusqueness softened a little. “Sandra was a good woman. She was kind and sweet and funny and…”
Moisture came to her eyes, and Faith realized that Kylie had lost more than just a coworker. “And you blamed Entwhistle and Hayes for that?”
“All of them. The whole damned administration. They just threw her under the bus. They needed someone to blame, and she was the person least able to defend herself. You know why her dog missed that bomb? Because she was on hour seventeen of a twenty-hour shift.”
Faith’s surprise must have shown on her face because Kylie continued, “Yeah. That’s the kind of shit they did.
I’m sure they still do.” She ran a hand over her eyes and flung the tears angrily to the floor.
“I didn’t kill anyone, and I’m guessing your friend is about to tell you that because she looks pissed.
But I’m not sorry they’re dead. When I heard Jackson was stabbed through the neck, I poured a glass of wine to celebrate and drank it next to my picture of Sandra.
” She leaned forward. “Good fucking riddance.”
Her eyes dared Faith to call her out again for her language.
Her eyes blazed with grief and anger and triumph.
Faith wondered if the killer knew they were a hero to at least one grieving resident of Baltimore.
She wondered if that made it easier for them to know that they were monsters to other grieving residents.
She suspected he didn't much care either way. This was about the message to him.
“She’s clean,” Jessica said. “Security cameras have her moving in between classrooms at the campus.”
Kylie smiled. It reminded Faith uncomfortably of Bridgette’s toothy grin. “Aww, wittle agent didn’t get her kiwwer?”
Faith ignored her and led Jessica and Turk away. Kylie’s mocking laughter followed.