Chapter 4 #2
“No, I’m not,” Casey answered quietly. “But it’s a thread the FBI is going to explore.
The spouse is always at the top of the suspect list, and therefore, the first one questioned.
In this case, that’s impossible. Caitlin is missing.
The Bureau will focus on that fact and pursue her with all their resources.
So we have to do it first.” Casey leaned forward, touching Ryan’s sleeve.
“I hate doing this to you. But you knew your cousin and his wife a hell of a lot better than the FBI did. We need to use that knowledge to our advantage. The sooner we get Caitlin off the suspect list, the better.”
There was a long moment of silence, during which time Ryan dragged both hands through his hair. “This sucks,” he said at last.
“I know,” Casey agreed. “And I’m sorry.”
He drew a swift breath. “Okay, here’s the answer to your question.
Shane and Caitlin were as tight as any couple I know.
As I said, they were high school sweethearts.
They’ve loved each other forever. The only things I’ve ever heard them argue about are who’s a better driver and how to get Kennedy to go to bed at a decent hour.
There was only caring and respect between them.
And they both adored Kennedy. For her sake alone, Caitlin would never do this.
Not to mention, she had no motive, nothing to gain.
Let the Bureau explore this angle all they want.
I’m sure they’ll question me and my family—which I’d better prepare them for.
Still, the answer won’t change. This is a dead end.
” Ryan gulped down his cup of coffee, his hand shaking.
Without a word, Claire rose and refilled his mug. She squeezed his shoulder as she handed it to him. “Do you need a minute?” she asked.
“No. I need to move away from this subject.”
“Done,” Casey said. “Let’s shift gears.”
“Wait.” Marc wished he could give Ryan time to compose himself.
But that wasn’t in the cards—not yet. “Before we bring this subject to a close, I need to add that I took a few quick photos of the crime scene. They’re stored in the cloud.
But I saw what I thought was an odd pattern.
A pool of blood gathered beneath Shane, and a separate jagged line of blood on the floor several feet away.
My gut tells me they belonged to two different people.
The first was obviously Shane’s. But the second—was it Caitlin’s or the killer’s?
If it was Caitlin’s, that’s going to give the FBI more reason to consider a marital dispute as the cause of death. ”
Marc held up his palm as Ryan opened his mouth to blast him.
“I’m not giving credence to the idea. I’m just stating facts.
More importantly, since we’re dismissing the idea that Caitlin would harm Shane, we have to probe the possibility that whoever killed Shane, injured either themselves or Caitlin in the process. ”
“Agreed,” Casey concurred.
Marc cleared his throat. “I want to get my hands on the Bureau’s lab report.
I need proof that I’m right about the two separate bloodstains, not only that they’re from different people, but who, besides Shane, did they belong to.
I want the whole report, including blood types.
It’ll give us necessary information to figure out what actually happened, whether or not Caitlin is injured, and, if not, any analysis there is on the killer based on their blood type. ”
“Hutch will never cooperate,” Casey stated flatly.
“I’m not asking Hutch. I’m asking Aidan.”
A long moment of silence ensued.
Casey spoke up first. “Aidan? That’s a rarity. You almost never involve him unless we’re backed against the wall, with literally no other choice. You really are determined to get answers on this.”
“Yeah. I am. I think they’ll tell us a lot.”
Aidan Devereaux was Marc’s older brother, the head of the Zermatt Group—a covert team of military, corporate and spy agency operatives who took on emergent crises before they appeared on law enforcement’s radar.
His worldwide connections, both aboveboard and not-so-aboveboard, were beyond extensive.
Zermatt and FI had joined forces on several overlapping cases.
But asking Aidan a favor like this was not something Marc did lightly.
“Is Aidan home in New York?” Casey asked.
Marc shrugged. “Don’t know. And it really doesn’t matter. He can handle this from anywhere in the world. He’ll have the contacts to pull this off, and fast.”
“Then go for it. Just don’t let Hutch catch wind of it.”
“This is Aidan we’re talking about,” Marc replied. “No one catches wind of anything he’s in charge of. Let’s finish up our meeting. Then I’ll call him.”
“Okay,” Casey responded, glancing at her iPad screen. “I want to backtrack long enough to ask what area Shane worked when he was an NYPD detective.”
“Homicide,” was Ryan’s reply. “Every type from intricately planned professional hits to domestic disputes to killers for hire. That’s another reason we have a lot of ground to cover. I’m sure Shane made more than a few enemies in his NYPD capacity, as well as his years at the FBI Violent Crimes.”
Marc nodded. “That’s definitely going to widen the suspect pool. However, in this case, it’ll give us the parameters we need to get our answers. We’ll have much better luck getting inside the NYPD than we will making inroads with the Bureau.”
Patrick spoke up next. “Can we get back to the subject of Caitlin?” he asked, glancing at Casey.
“Of course,” she said.
“I’ll start with an obvious question. Ryan, I’m sure you’ve continued to try to reach her?”
“Repeatedly,” Ryan replied. “But to no avail. Her iPhone is not in service. I’ll have to find other avenues to pursue.”
Patrick took that in, typing into his iPad. “I take it she doesn’t work in law enforcement?”
Ryan shook his head. “She’s an intelligence analyst with Scott Security, which is a nice-sized corporation in midtown.
Her problem-solving skills rival mine—a compliment I don’t often give.
Anyway, she joined their company about five years ago.
That’s where I’ll start my poking around.
This morning will be my one shot, since the FBI and/or the details of their press release will reach Caitlin’s associates in no time.
So I’ll call her office two hours from now, as soon as they open, to try to get a handle on which of her colleagues she’s closest to, and to see if any of them has seen or heard from her. ”
“Unfortunately for us, it’s Saturday,” Casey reminded him.
“There probably aren’t a lot of people in the office.
So you might be SOL. If you do reach someone who’s tight with Caitlin, get their name to me ASAP.
I want to take over from there. Not only am I the behaviorist of the team, I’m not personally involved the way you are.
I’ll follow-up right away—the moment I get your text—take a personal approach, rather than the professional one the FBI is bound to use once they’re involved.
It’s a long shot, but maybe I’ll learn something. ”
Ryan nodded. “If anyone can, it’s you. No worries. You’ll get my text pronto.”
Marc was thinking and frowning, veering in a different direction. “Ryan, is there any way you can access a police report from yesterday’s crime scene?”
Ryan flipped open his iPad, grateful to be doing something that helped him feel like his normal self.
“Not a problem. The locals were on the scene before the Bureau. Which means they’ll have a lean file they created before the FBI’s ERT tossed them out.
In a few days, I’ll get into the NYPD’s database, once the investigation expands to include them. ”
He began typing, making quick work of hacking into the New Rochelle Police Department’s database. For now, this was his only shot. No way he’d try hacking the FBI’s system. It was a virtual impossibility—and he’d lose his license and his freedom in the process.
Having located the local case file, he clicked into it, searching for details. Then, he tamped down on his personal feelings and began supplying the team with information.
“Okay, the local cops did a pretty decent cursory job. They found evidence of gunshot residue. Marc and I saw the casings that were beside Shane, so that makes sense. There was no blood cast on the walls—only that pool of blood Marc and I found on the floor near Shane’s body, and the adjacent jagged bloody line.
” Ryan swallowed hard, and then continued.
“There were smudged fingerprints on the doorknobs and the body—presumably the killer’s.
All doors and windows were checked, and indicated no evidence of forced entry.
But the outside garage door was up and the inside door unlocked. ”
At that, Ryan looked up. “Pretty much everyone leaves their inside garage door unlocked. But I know that Shane and Caitlin always lower the outside door whether at home or away. I’m sure they had remotes in their cars to raise them.”
“Which means anyone could have broken into the car and pressed that button,” Marc muttered. “Did the cops check out the car?”
Ryan scanned the report. “Yeah. Long enough to find that there were indiscernible fingerprints and scratch marks on the driver’s side keyhole. The car alarm was silenced. Your line of thinking is right, Marc. That’s the way the killer got in.”
“And it takes some level of skill to disarm a car alarm these days,” Patrick noted. “So we’re dealing with at least a minimally sophisticated subject—though not a rocket scientist. If he were that, he would have wiped his prints or worn gloves.”
Casey nodded. “I agree. What about security footage? A Ring security camera would be a dead end if the killer entered the house through the garage. But was any activity caught on camera?”