Chapter 25
Some cases I could help; some I couldn’t. It came down to how much information was available in each case. Photographs and videos helped immensely, but the write-ups were only as good as the investigator who wrote them.
“What do you think, Cassie?” Agent Steele asked me near the end of the second day.
“It’s like trying to track someone from photographs of the ground,” I said, frustrated.
“Track?” Rao asked. He was usually the quietest of the main team agents. Interesting that he spoke now.
“Yes. Dad taught me a lot about tracking. People and animals. We spent a lot of our time in the woods.”
“Are you good? At it?” he asked.
“It’s probably what I do best,” I said.
“Better than waitressing?” Rose Carmine asked, smiling.
“Yes. A lot.”
I had the whole team’s attention now.
“You’re serious? You solve things at a glance and you’re better at tracking?” Red asked.
I shrugged.
“Reluctant to brag, Cassie?” Dr. Chen asked.
“It’s an odd thing. I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea of it.”
“The idea of what, Cassie?” Rose asked.
“I started with Dad and Grandpa as soon as I could walk. Strolls in the woods, along the stream banks, and in the snow. Animals, but then people. Animals are easier because you can figure out their motives very quickly. Food, sex, shelter, and safety. Run, hunt, kill, and mate. I started to picture it,” I said, my voice petering out.
“Picture the animals?” Agent Steele asked.
“Picture all of them, what they were doing, why they were doing it. Dad and Grandpa knew every track, every sign, and they taught me. And I read books. Animal track books, then manhunter books, like US Marshalls and stuff.”
“How vivid is it?” Dr. Chen asked, looking at me, head tilted.
“Very. My brain assigns sex, age, condition to each animal. If they’re scared, hungry, or whatever. Then Dad made me track him, and Grandpa. It was easy. At Benning, I tracked teams.”
“Trainees?” Kessler asked
“No, not really. The active duty ones. Command Sergeant likes me to track each team on an evasion exercise before they deploy… if I’m around, that is. Summers. Pisses them all off, but it keeps them on edge when they enter their area of operations.”
“So you need to see the actual site to track?” Steele asked.
“Yeah. Too much is lost,” I said.
“So if we showed you a crime scene?” Chen asked.
“I would try to read it like I was tracking.”
“Why don’t you like it, Cassie?” Rose asked.
“I didn’t say I don’t like it. That’s the problem… I love it. But I get a little lost in it.”
“And you get worried,” Chen said nodding. “Worried you are abnormal.”
I snorted. “I know I’m abnormal. It’s that I’m an even bigger freak when I track.”
“Let’s find a local scene and see what happens,” Steele said.
“What about leaving Tiki?”
“We have permission,” Steele said. “But we go heavy.”
“There’s a request for help out of Maryland. Murder in a cottage. Widow with no relatives. No witnesses, no clues, no fingerprints or DNA.”
“Perfect,” Steele said. “Let’s gear up.”
An hour later, we were winding through the Maryland countryside in a three-car convoy with two drones overhead.
The crime scene was in a quiet town northwest of Baltimore.
A small white house, well kept, much loved.
Yellow crime scene tape surrounded the property, and a pair of deputies was watching over the property, along with a Ford sedan with municipal plates.
Two detectives got out as we pulled into the driveway, expressions frankly puzzled.
“Detectives Forner and Bonner? I’m Special Agent Steele.”
The cops nodded but were watching as six HRT agents spread out around our cars, heavily armed with HK416 rifles and full combat kit.
The older of the two detectives, balding, maybe late forties or early fifties, was scratching his head with one hand as he shook Agent Steele’s hand with the other.
“We were hoping for some forensic support… not SWAT,” he said. “I’m Forner. That punk is Bonner.”
Bonner was younger, Black, and very fit. Looked ex-military to my trained eye.
“Not sure if we can help, but we’re working a new protocol, and it might shed some light for you.”
“Ah, sure.”
“Carmine and Chen, you’re with Ca… with our consultant,” he said.
“She’s a consultant?” Forner asked. “I have a kid her age.”
We were already walking toward the house, and their conversation and comments fell away as I felt my attention come on point.
“Would you like to tell us your observations as we move, Cassie?” Chen asked. “We’re recording.” Rose Carmine had a small video camera which was pointed at me as I studied the house.
“Okay, but I don’t have enough yet,” I said as we circled the house. It was tiny, maybe two bedrooms, a bathroom, living room, and kitchen. Full basement though. Detached single car garage with recent model Kia parked inside.
“The notes indicated they think the killer entered the rear kitchen door,” Chen noted.
I was studying the ground as we went, the flower beds and the lawn out back. I glanced through the windows of the garage, my brain recording everything: every tool, every box, ladder and hose.
Then we approached the rear door. “Dead bolt lock, picked, minimal scratching indicating a decent skill level.”
We entered and I scoped the bloody kitchen.
“Older retiree. White, over sixty-five, solid financial condition, meticulous housekeeper; oh, she was a coin collector. Stella Sorensen. Worked at the post office, husband deceased; ex-town facilities employee. She surprised the killer here at the back, happened at night, as the range hood light is on but all other lights off. She was getting a glass of water. Killer used a knife from her rack, large chef knife. Didn’t bring a weapon; improvised.
Ah, the killer was actually on his way out when she came from the back bedroom.
” I moved to a white door, opening it to find stairs down.
The basement was half finished with a laundry and utility area adjacent to a small office and a potting area near stairs up to bulkhead doors outside.
There were shelves lined with plastic binders and a slight gap between them on one shelf.
I moved over and pulled a specific binder with my gloved hands.
Inside, carefully curated sheets of rare coins glistened under plastic coatings.
Each coin was labeled with date, condition, and any defining features.
The sheets were numbered and one was missing.
The desk held an older tower computer, organized bill holder, drawers with checkbooks and financial records, and a second drawer with a book of handwritten notes.
“It was a robbery. One plastic sheet of coins was taken, but she caught the thief and he killed her. He’s young, twenties, tall, slightly overweight, maybe glasses, light brown hair.
Possibly an escape room enthusiast. He’s involved in numismatic coins; likely a worker at a local dealer.
She had something very special in that book. ”
“How did you get all that?” Chen asked.
“Everything in the kitchen or stuck to the fridge told me about Stella. There’s a pension form letter under a magnet about her husband’s pension.
Also, a check stub in her name from the post office.
Blood spatters and the bloody footprints are pretty clear on the dance they had.
It was quick, but the killer was not skilled.
He hacked at her. Spatters show he was considerably taller than Stella, but he was unbalanced and awkward.
I saw two hairs in the blood. One gray is likely Stella’s; the other was light brown.
This book was slightly shifted while all the others are carefully shelved.
Page numbers indicate a missing page. She might have had it appraised and someone in the shop saw it and coveted it.
She likely had notes in the computer about the collection or in a book in the desk. ”
“Okay, Cassie, I think that’s enough. Let’s go back out and I’ll update Brian and the detectives,” Dr. Chen said.
We left the house and Rose guided me back to our SUV, where we had a couple bottles of water.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine. It’s kind of a fugue state, but I remember everything. Makes me thirsty and hungry, though. Was it …weird?”
“Like you were in a trance kinda. Head swiveling everywhere, though. Are you alert to danger when you’re like that?”
“Hyper alert. Result of the teams leaving booby traps to slow me down. I have a team with me when I track them, but I’m point and like I said… egos got bruised.”
“Here; I’ve got a candy bar in my bag,” she said.
“Marry me now,” I demanded, eyes on the promised chocolate.