The two women left.
Francine said, “Nathan Trask might have been the easy part.”
“I was thinking the very same thing,” said Gibson.
Chapter 72
Wilson Sullivan came out into the waiting room at the police station to see Gibson sitting there.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said, looking annoyed.
She rose and smiled disarmingly. “I like to keep people on their toes.”
“What’s up?”
“Can we go back to your office?”
He took a long moment to make a decision. “All right, but you have to make it brief. I’ve got a full plate.”
“Let’s go.”
In his office, she sat down across from him.
“Oh, did you hear about Nathan Trask?” he said. “It’s the talk of the police world. No one thought that son of a bitch could be touched.”
“Just shows what happens if you keep trying,” noted Gibson.
“The Bureau must be jumping for joy. Quite the catch for them. Wonder how they did it.”
“Yeah, me too. Speaking of the FBI, Cary Pinker came by to see me.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think he likes me poking around this case. I assumed I didn’t hear from you because he told you to put the kibosh on what we were doing?”
“I don’t work for the FBI,” replied Sullivan.
“So we’re good on that score?”
“I told you from the first there are things you can do to help and there are things I can’t let you get involved in.”
“So how is Pinker? Making progress?”
“He’s working the case.”
“With you?” asked Gibson.
“He’s working his case, and I’m working mine.”
“Fair enough. So look, I wanted to fill you in on what’s happened since we talked last.”
“Okay.”
“First thing, I got canned by ProEye.” She had mentioned this to see his reaction.
“What the hell? I talked to your boss.”
“I know. Apparently somebody else contacted them and they decided to cut all ties with me.”
He fiddled with the pen he was holding. “And what, you think that was Pinker?”
“If you were me, would he not be on your list?”
Sullivan said, “Well, he never mentioned that to me. I would have told him it was a bad idea.”
“Okay, I appreciate that.” She glanced at the old wound on his neck from being injured in the line of duty. “Does that still hurt?”
“Only when people ask about it,” he snapped. “What else? Any progress on the money Langhorne left behind?”
Gibson was about to answer when she started coughing, which became more and more pronounced.
“Allergies,” she gasped. “Water? So I can take a pill?”
He hurried out, and came back in with the water. She drank it while tossing down a vitamin C pill.
“Whew, thanks. That hasn’t happened in a while.”
“Sure. So any progress on the money?” he asked again.
“I think so. He left some clues behind.”
“More than what you already told me?”
“No, but I’ve been giving it some thought and I might have some leads. I did a bunch of legwork on the computer. The guy had a ton of companies and accounts, all of which were cleaned out fairly recently.”
“Meaning he might have been accumulating cash?”
“Yes, either to hold or to use to buy something. I’m going to try to track that down. By the way, when was the last time you were back at Stormfield?”
“Why?”
“I was just wondering if you had found out anything else.”
“The last time I was there was with you.”
She showed her poker face at this lie, and nodded. “Any luck finding Francine or Doug Langhorne?”
“None. When they disappeared, they really vanished.”
Yes they did, thought Gibson. “And no leads on whoever killed Langhorne?”
He shook his head and already looked detached from this conversation.
She stood. “Well, I’ll let you get back to things.”
“Right.”
She left without a single positive thought of Wilson Sullivan in her head.
And here I thought we might have been friends. Or maybe more.
Gibson reached into her pocket and pulled out the plastic baggie in which she’d placed the pen he’d been handling while he was out getting her water.
Let’s find out who you really are, shall we?
Chapter 73
Through her new friends at the FBI, Gibson got them to run the print she’d taken from Wilson Sullivan.
“His real name is Mark Gosling,” Gibson told Francine as they sat at an outdoor café having coffee in Williamsburg.
“Why would he change it to Wilson Sullivan?”
“I don’t know. He wasn’t in WITSEC; they confirmed that. And it’s not illegal to change your name. And he has no criminal record under that name. That would have made it problematic to become a cop.”
“Wait a minute. Gosling?”
“Yeah, why?”
Francine pulled her laptop out of her bag and opened it. Then she slid a thumb drive into the dongle port and brought up the information on it.
“This is the stuff I got from Beckett’s computer.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard. “Okay, here it is. I thought I recognized that last name, and not because of Ryan Gosling.”
Gibson shifted her chair next to Francine so she could read off the screen. “Helen Gosling was in WITSEC years ago. She’d fallen in with a guy who was a member of a militia group that did some really bad stuff. People got killed and a federal building was bombed. She turned state’s evidence and was put in WITSEC.”
“And she was moved to Alabama where she was under the protection of Earl Beckett, among others,” added Francine.
“And she killed herself. They found her hanging in her bedroom.”
Francine hit some more keys. “Here’s a photo of her.”
“Wow, she was gorgeous,” noted Gibson.
“Yes, she was,” said Francine, eyeing Gibson steadily. “Maybe too gorgeous.”
Gibson shot her a glance. “Wait, you think—”
“—that Beckett tried it on with her? Oh hell yes, I do. This was right after we left New Mexico. He must have gotten transferred.”
“Do you think he had something to do with her death?”
“Well, let’s say she was brave enough to threaten to out the man for his shit. Is that a motive for murder?”
“You bet it is. And Sullivan — or Mark Gosling, rather — is her...?”
Francine pulled a notebook out of her purse. Gibson saw that it was labeled TAKING DOWN EARL FUCKING BECKETT.
“Do you have a notebook for everything?” Gibson asked.
Francine gave her a knowing smile. “Oh, you have no idea.” She skimmed through some pages and then pointed at some written notes. “This is what I found out. Mark was her younger brother. I didn’t know at the time that he was also Wilson Sullivan.”
“You think she might have confided in him? So he might have known what was happening to his sister?”
“And he became a cop to bring justice to his sister?” said Francine. “It’s certainly plausible.”
Gibson had a sudden idea. “I thought Gosling might have been following Langhorne and then killed him. But can you see where Beckett was assigned over the years?”
She turned some more pages in the notebook. “After Alabama he was in El Paso. Then Arkansas, South Carolina, North Carolina, and now Virginia.”
“That’s it.”
“What?” said Francine.
“Starting with El Paso those are the same places that Mark Gosling has been a cop as Wilson Sullivan.”