Chapter 44
Monday morning finally arrived, and my anxiety was off the charts. I felt like that kid who started attending a new school during the middle of the year with a zit on her face and no friends in sight.
I dreaded walking into Taft’s office and having to explain our disastrous stakeout.
We would have to fess up that we hadn’t nabbed James Smith, nor did we see a single soul that night.
What was even worse was admitting that we’d stayed until Saturday morning when we were escorted out to the dock only to find that James and his boat were gone.
The tongue lashings were due. Taft would tell us we were done with chasing or even talking about James Smith, and we would start on the Michael Lenstein case as soon as our butts were planted on our chairs at our desks.
She would call the PD and tell them our help wasn’t warranted and that if they wanted to look for somebody who hadn’t been seen committing a crime, then it was up to the three police departments who had some skin in the game. The FBI was moving on to other criminals.
Our boss was tough, and I respected her for that. Unfortunately, she went by the book one hundred percent of the time and never—that I had seen—relied on gut feelings for anything.
Renz and I pulled into our designated parking spaces within seconds of each other and walked in together.
“I’m dreading this, Renz.”
He chuckled. “Suck it up, Monroe. You wanted to do the stakeout, it failed, and now we have to move on, just like James Smith did.”
“Not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny, Jade, but now it’s up to the PD to track him down, if he actually is the killer.
We worked the case alongside the police for a week, and all of us came up empty.
He picked up a night worker, and she was never seen again, but Beth might have had another customer after James. ”
“But he abandoned the Camry.”
“Right, because picking up a hooker is against the law. Maybe he’s married, maybe he has a high-profile job, maybe he likes to get kinky on the side, but that doesn’t automatically make him a killer.”
“Beth and Della’s body parts washed ashore, and he used his card at the Manitowoc marina gate at one forty-five a.m. last Sunday morning.”
“And he was probably staying in Manitowoc then decided to move on.”
I huffed at Renz’s stubbornness. “Yeah, and that’s why his driver’s license had a liquor store address as his own.”
“He had to put something down as an address. I doubt that living in your boat qualifies, and as far as I know, boat slips don’t have addresses.”
I headed to the elevator and pressed the up button. I was too riled up to take the stairs. Renz followed me.
“Come on, Jade. We might as well rip the Band-Aid off right now and come clean with Taft. What’s the difference if we do it now or after the morning updates? She’s going to put us on the Michael Lenstein case either way.”
“Fine.” I walked with Renz to Taft’s office and knocked. She called out to come in.
Renz peeked around the door. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
Renz and I took seats across from Taft. She stared and waited for one of us to say why we were there. Renz’s eyes bulged at me, which told me he wasn’t going to speak on my behalf.
I stammered then began. “We conducted the stakeout at the Manitowoc marina Friday night.”
Taft closed her laptop and gave me her full attention. “Great. So tell me about it.” She lifted her coffee cup without breaking eye contact with me.
Telling her the story while looking into her piercing eyes unnerved me. I dreaded opening my mouth, but all of it was Renz’s fault anyway. He and his stupid losing bets, then borrowing money from Bill Gavin, had started everything. I gave Renz a side-eyed glare then continued.
“We parked at the offices, where we had a bird’s-eye view of the public parking lot and the dock gate. Nobody ever showed up on foot or with a car. I pressured Lorenzo to stay the night and—”
“Hold on. You sat there until Saturday morning?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why?”
I coughed into my fist. “Research. I wanted one of the employees to open the gate and escort us to James Smith’s boat. I wanted to see how seaworthy it actually was. I wanted to know if the boat was large or small and what kind of distance he could go with it.”
“Uh-huh. Then what?”
“Then we went with the employee to James Smith’s slip. It was empty. He and the boat were gone.”
“So you sat there all night for nothing?”
“We didn’t know he was gone, and we wouldn’t have known that unless we stayed until the office opened and saw that for ourselves.”
Thankfully, Renz chimed in. “We returned to the office and asked when the last time was that James Smith used his gate card. It was last Sunday after one forty in the morning.”
“So he’s been gone for some time. Is that what you’re saying?”
Taft looked directly at me and waited.
“I guess so.”
“Then he wasn’t around when Torrie went missing?”
“It doesn’t appear so.”
“Okay.” Taft looked at her watch. “Let’s head into the meeting. When it’s over, you two can begin working the Michael Lenstein cold case. Any questions?”
“No, boss,” I said.
“Good.” Taft rose from her desk, went to the door, and waited for us to leave.
Fearing that she would overhear what I wanted to say, I kept my mouth shut. I’d speak to Renz privately, with our office door closed, after the morning updates.
Thirty minutes later—and if asked, I couldn’t have told anyone what Taft talked about—Renz and I returned to our office.
“Well, crap.”
Renz yawned, stretched, then sat down.
“How are you okay with this?”
“With what?”
“With giving up? Three ladies are dead, maybe even more.”
“And the FBI, especially a separate unit that tracks down serial crimes, can’t involve themselves with every case in every city.
It isn’t like James Smith was caught red-handed, excuse the pun.
We can’t prove he did anything wrong except lie on his driver’s license and abandon the Camry.
Neither of those offenses require the FBI’s help. ”
I knew I would be angry all day, just because. I let out a long, loud sigh. “So what are we supposed to do with the Lenstein case when every agent here has worked it before?”
“Probably not much. It’s busywork, but if Taft sees us slacking off, she’ll pile even more cold cases on us. Make sure to look like you’re doing something in case she walks in.”
For the next twenty minutes, Renz explained the case to me. The file folder Taft had given Renz was on my desk, and I would review that material first.
“Before you dig into that, we need to take a trip.”
“Really? Where?”
“Downstairs to the evidence room. I think there’s about ten legal boxes down there pertaining to this case.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“I’m one hundred percent serious. Let’s go bring them up, grab some coffee, then dig in.”
I groaned. “I can think of another case that would be far more interesting to pursue.”
Renz stood at the door. “Go ahead and tell that to Taft.”
I pushed back my chair and joined him in the hallway. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”