“I’ve got more bad news,” Wood said.
Linderman drew back in his seat.
“We can’t go after Crutch,” Wood said.
Linderman slammed his fist on the table. The reaction drew an interested stare from a man eating breakfast at the next table. Linderman snapped his head at the offending party, and the man went back to his scrambled eggs and sausage.
“Why not?” Linderman asked.
“You’re aware that there was an atmospheric disturbance last night which caused the satellite to drop the volume on the transmission.”
“Yes. It was what tipped Crutch off to the sting.”
“It also distorted the sound quality of the voices. You can’t identify Crutch’s voice on the tape. He sounds like an alien.”
“But we know it was him,” Linderman said.
“Yes, we do, but we can’t prove it was him.”
“Have you talked this over with legal?”
“I called our lawyer on the way here, and discussed everything with him. The burden of proof is clearly on the government’s shoulders when it comes to eavesdropping cases. We can’t prove Crutch was talking to Mr. Clean last night. Hell, we can’t prove that he was talking to anyone.”
Wood’s toast was served burned. He slathered strawberry jelly onto it, and began to eat. Soon the table was covered in tiny pieces of ash. It was a perfect metaphor for what had happened. Their case against Crutch had gone up in flames.
“Have you talked to Rachel?” Wood asked.
“I called her last night to see how she was doing,” Linderman replied. “She sounded shell-shocked. I told her to hang tough.”
“Do you think she’ll survive this?”
“She’ll survive.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m going to take the heat on this one. I set up the sting, and I sent her into that hornet’s nest. The blame falls squarely on my shoulders for what happened.”
Wood said nothing. They’d known each other a long time, and followed the same code of ethics. They did not blame others when things broke bad. They blamed themselves. “I feel responsible in another way,” Linderman went on. “This was Rachel’s first attempt to catch a serial killer. She’s always impressed me as being smart and competent. But she’s still young, and even though I had some misgivings, I brought her up too soon.”
They fell silent. The waitress brought their check, which Linderman settled.
“Rachel lied about her age when she signed up,” Wood said.
Linderman was stunned. “How did you find that out?”
“It popped up during a background check. She was born in “83 but put “81 on her application. She’s been doing it her whole life.”
Linderman glanced at the front door of the restaurant. An elderly couple waiting for the table were shooting him hostile stares. Ignoring them, he said, “I want to hear about this.”
“Rachel lied about her age when applying for a learner’s permit to drive a car when she was thirteen,” Wood said. “When she was fifteen, she lied on a job application to work in a department store.”
“Is her lying pathological?”
“I don’t think so. I got to know Rachel when she worked in my office. Her father was a strict Baptist minister, and was abusive. Rachel wanted to get out of that house as fast as she could. So she lied about her age. One Thanksgiving she came over to the house for dinner. My wife asked her what it was like growing up in a Baptist family. Rachel said that her father had frowned upon pre-marital sex because it might lead to dancing. I’d thought she was making a joke. She wasn’t joking.”
“How long have you known this?” Linderman asked.
“I found out a few months ago. I had her change her birth date on her application so it wouldn’t haunt her later on.”
“I wish you’d picked up the phone and called me. It explains a lot of things.”
“It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. The bureau signed up a lot of new recruits after 9/11 that they didn’t vet as thoroughly as they should have. Rachel slipped through the cracks.”
Linderman slid out of the booth and headed for the door.
“You still should have called me,” he said.
Linderman’s rental was baking in the sun behind his motel. He climbed behind the wheel and within seconds was dripping with perspiration. His body refused to adjust to the Florida heat, and he longed for the day that he and Muriel could move back to Virginia.
He called Southwest Airlines and made a reservation on a flight to Fort Lauderdale that afternoon. He was not going to let Vick take the fall for this. She had good instincts and one day would make a fine supervisor. He would take the hit and retire if he had to. He’d put in twenty-five years and would earn a full pension. It was not the swan song he’d envisioned, but life was like that sometimes. As he hung up, another call came in.
“This is Linderman.”
“Warden Jenkins here,” the caller said.
“Hello, warden. How are you this morning?”
“Fair to middling. Are you still in town?”
“Yes. I was just heading to the airport to catch a flight.”
“I have something you need to see. One of the guards just delivered a note to me. It’s from Crutch, and it’s addressed to you.”
“What does it say?”
“I don’t know. Crutch glued it shut on all four corners. I don’t know how he did that, because the inmates aren’t allowed to have adhesive in their cells.”
Or cell phones, Linderman nearly said, but stifled the remark. “Would you mind opening the letter, and reading it to me?”
“By all means.”
There was a short silence as Jenkins put down the phone. He came back on, and cleared his throat. “Here we go. Dear Special Agent Linderman: Although we have never met, I feel like I know you. I’m aware you searched my cell yesterday, and I also know why you came here. You are capable of making my life miserable, while I have the ability to help you, and your cause. Perhaps we should put down our swords, smoke a peace pipe, and talk this over. I am willing to try that approach, but as my mother used to say, it takes two to tango. If you are willing to meet with me, I must put forth one stipulation. Our talk must be in private, with no guards or other employees of the prison present. Trust me when I say you will not be disappointed in what I have to tell you. Sincerely, Crutch. God almighty, can you believe the nerve of this son-of-a-bitch?”
Linderman gazed through his windshield at the parking lot. The heat rising off the concrete made the world look twisted and out of focus. He had talked to serial killers before, and come away each time feeling like a small nick had been cut in his heart. He would lose something talking to Crutch, but had no other choice if he wanted to save Wayne Ladd.
“How soon can you set this up?” he asked.
“You’re going to do it?” Jenkins asked, sounding shocked.
“I don’t have any other choice. Our investigation has hit a brick wall.”
“Didn’t you tape Crutch’s conversation last night? He incriminated himself left and right.”
“The tape is worthless. The audio was bad.” Linderman paused, seeing menacing shapes in the shadows of his motel that had not been there before. He was exhausted, and told himself his mind playing tricks on him. “ I want to do this right now.”
“There will have to be a guard present,” Jenkins said. “We don’t allow one-on-one meetings with inmates under any circumstances. It’s too damn risky.”
“Make an exception.”
“But…”
“Just set it up. Crutch and me.”
“You’re sure you know what you’re doing.”
“Positive. I’ll be there soon.”
Linderman drove to the prison like there was no tomorrow.
Chapter 28
Warden Jenkins was still griping when Linderman entered his office and dropped into the chair across from his desk. Jenkins saw something in the FBI agent’s face that told him to stop complaining, so he did, his lips slapping shut.