“Not definitive,” Talia said. “And we can’t ask him, because he’s dead.”
“Let’s say Alderman knew something-why didn’t he use it to get Fulmore off? That was a much more high-profile case. It would have been a huge feather in his cap.”
“Either Alderman didn’t find out till later or he chose to leverage what he knew on future cases.”
“That’s what I think.” Susannah stiffened as her old house came into view. The bile started to rise in her throat and she resolutely, audibly, swallowed it back.
Talia glanced over again, her expression worried. “You okay?”
“No. But we’re going in anyway. Because even if Alderman had information that Borenson ran a dirty trial, it doesn’t explain Darcy’s death and the fact that Granville’s thích was at the bunker within the last few weeks. There’s a connection. I know it.”
“My gut says you’re right. I hope we find something concrete to back it up.”
“My father kept detailed records on everything, and Daniel and I know most of his hiding places. I knew I’d have to come back here and find his records. I’ve been dreading it, just like Luke is dreading those pictures on Mansfield’s hard drive.”
“Do you have a key?” Talia asked.
Susannah nodded grimly. “Frank Loomis gave it to me after my parents’ funeral.”
Talia just sighed. “Let me call in our location, and we’ll get started looking.”
Bobby froze, her hand poised on the frame of a very expensive painting hanging in an upstairs parlor. She’d found four wall safes behind equally expensive paintings throughout the house and another safe in the floor of the judge’s bedroom. Now she slid her hand away from the frame at the sound of car doors slamming outside.
Women’s voices. Carefully she crept to the window, and nodded, satisfied. One of the women had been at the press conference the day before, standing next to the women on the stage. She was GBI. The other was none other than Susannah.
A thrill ran down Bobby’s spine. She’d been wondering how she’d force Susannah to open the safes. Now Susannah had been dumped in her lap, like a gift. She’d have to get rid of the agent, but that’s what guns were for. Bobby was well-stocked, having found a stash of weapons in the attic while searching for heirlooms. Untraceable guns, switchblades, tasers, all hidden beneath yards of Christmas garland.
Peace on earth, indeed.
Atlanta, Monday, February 5, 12:25 p.m.
Luke continued to click through each picture in Mansfield’s Sweetpea file. After an hour, all he’d seen were Granville and the victims. So many victims. He had to focus on the background detail to keep his sanity.
“He took these with a hidden camera,” Luke said, just to hear his own voice and not the cries he imagined coming from each victim as she was tortured.
“Granville’s clothes change seasonally a couple of times,” Nate said. “The angle also changes. I wonder what Mansfield had the camera hidden in.”
“I’m betting the camera was in a pen clipped to his pocket. He mostly gets shots of Granville’s torso and shoes. I wish he’d date stamped the damn things. We could have cut right to pictures taken during the last two weeks.”
“That’s the problem with all of his pictures. They’re organized by predilection, but not by time. It’ll be hard to figure out when the pictures were taken and how old the kids would even be by now.”
Luke stiffened as his mind registered a detail in the next photo. “Wait.”
Nate was leaning forward, eyes narrowed. On the edge of the picture were a man’s trousers, the legs bent at the knee. “Whoever’s wearing them was sitting down.”
“But look at the shoes.” Luke pointed with his pen. “The soles.”
Nate sucked in a breath. “One’s thicker than the other. Special shoes.”
Luke’s mind had run through all the men in the town and already come to a conclusion before his eyes lifted to the board behind the monitor to where the stills hung. He pointed to the still of the three barbershop bench men, sitting in folding chairs near Sheila’s graveside. “The one on the end, with the walking stick. His name is Charles Grant. He was Daniel’s English teacher.” Quickly he dialed Chloe. “It’s Luke. I think I have an ID on the man Monica Cassidy heard in the bunker. Charles Grant.”
“Grant?” Chloe repeated, stunned. “Isn’t he Daniel’s teacher? The one that gave us information on Mack O’Brien?”
“Just when we needed it,” Luke said bitterly. “Just like the information supplied by Kate Davis, aka Rocky.”
“This is going to kill Daniel,” Chloe said.
“Let’s get word to him, so that it doesn’t,” Luke said tersely. “I need a warrant.”
“You got a clear ID?”
“Not his face,” Luke said. “Just his shoes.”
“I don’t know if I can get you a warrant on shoes, Luke.”
“Dammit, Chloe…”
“Luke,” Nate said. He’d clicked through a few more pictures. “Look.”
The camera angle was different. “Wait,” he said and zoomed in. “How about the head of a walking stick identical to the one Charles Grant used at Sheila’s funeral?”
“Much better. You get started for Dutton. You’ll have a warrant when you get there.”
“Thanks, Chloe.” Luke hung up and dialed Chase, filling him in.
“Good work,” Chase said. “I’ll contact Germanio. They should be at the cemetery and hopefully Grant is there. Germanio can watch him while you get down there and search his house. Bobby could be hiding there. Oh, and Luke, I just hung up with that agent in North Carolina. Harry Grimes. He’s been trying your cell for over an hour.”
“My cell doesn’t work in The Room.”
“I told him that. He refused to tell me what he wanted, just that it was urgent.”
“I’ll call him. Chase, have you heard from Talia and Susannah?”
“Yes, she’s safe. Now go.”
Luke turned to Nate. “Can you send these pics to Chloe for the warrant?”
“Already done. I just e-mailed them to her. Go. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” A glance at his call log revealed six calls from Harry Grimes. Luke dialed him as he ran down the stairs toward his car. “Harry, it’s Luke Papadopoulos.”
“I have news for you. It’s sensitive and I wasn’t sure who I could trust.”
“What is it?”
“I found video of Genie Cassidy’s abduction. Someone observed the whole thing. Someone driving a Crown Vic registered to an Atlanta cop. Name’s Paul Houston.”
“A cop?” Luke didn’t have time for pause, although a major chunk of the puzzle had just fallen into place. “My God. Now it makes sense.”
“It does?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, it does.” Now he knew how Bobby was able to force Nurse Jennifer Ohman to keep Monica silent and the male nurse to try to kill Ryan Beardsley, and maybe even how she was able to force Leigh Smithson to aid her. Bobby was working with a cop. A cop would know about drug addictions and other secrets, and a dirty cop would use those to blackmail. “I’m running to an emergency. I need you to call my boss back. Tell him what you told me, fast. Thanks, Harry, we owe you one.”
“Glad to help. Good luck.”
Yeah, Luke thought as he reached his car. I need all the good luck I can get.
Dutton, Monday, February 5, 1:00 p.m.
Susannah sat in her father’s chair, frustrated. “I know he kept records, Talia, but they’re not anywhere I’ve looked. I’m going about this wrong. If he had records, he wouldn’t store them where they could be easily found.” She closed her eyes. “I remember hiding at the top of the stairs when I was little, knowing people were meeting with my father, in this office. Even then I knew there was something wrong going on.”