What Lies Behind Page 19

  “We know she is. She pulled us in this morning and gave us all sorts of crazy directions to cover all this up. Maybe the sister is more involved than we thought?”

  “Involved how?”

  “Working with the pharm company, moving information? Maybe she got on the wrong side of things? I don’t know, it’s silly to think she could kill her own sister. Isn’t it? I mean, how messed up was she?”

  She heard his breath hiss in. “From all accounts, she was pretty messed up, Sam. I’ll get with my counterpart at the CIA, see if I can dig up something more on her. And look at the relationship between Regina and Robin. They were at the Agency at the same time. It stands to reason they know each other.”

  “I need to talk to her, Baldwin. I need to have a sit-down with Robin. At the very least, to inform her of her sister’s death. And to ascertain if she’s our suspect.”

  “I’ll find her. Don’t you dare go after her alone, you hear me? She’s very, very good at her job, and those instincts die hard. If she’s threatened, there’s no telling what she might do.”

  “Why do I get the feeling there’s a hell of a lot more you’re not saying?”

  A ghost of a laugh. “Because I only trust these phones so much. I’m done here. I’m catching a flight out this afternoon. I’ll be back in D.C. late tonight. I’ll come to your place. We can talk.”

  “All right. Hey, listen. In terms of diseases or vaccinations, have you ever heard of anything called Gransef?”

  “Gransef? No. What is it?”

  “It was the label on one of the vials we found at Tommy Cattafi’s place. I’ve never heard of it before, and a basic search didn’t bring it up. I’m worried it might be...the something new we’re looking for. Which is no longer in our possession.”

  “Shit. I’ll look it up, see if I can find anything on my end.”

  “Thank you. Which reminds me, speaking of Cattafi, do you have any idea how Amanda came to be working with him? Regina said they were friends from way back, but that goes against most everything I’ve seen about Amanda and the nature of her work.”

  “Now that I can help you with. I talked to Amanda’s most recent handler. She recruited Thomas Cattafi a couple of years ago. He was on a rotation with Médecins Sans Frontières. He was perfect material for us. Smart, connected. Had an understanding of the basic nature of the industry. I don’t know if he was doing actual work for her, but he was definitely a source, and a paid one—he’s on the books. She may have thought he’d be a safer place to head to if she was on the run.”

  “It was a big mistake. Someone knew she was going to be there. I’m assuming they came here first, looking for her, and when they found the renters instead, they extracted what they could, killed them, either out of frustration or because they could provide an ID, left a note to try to make it look personal and headed straight for Cattafi’s place. Which would mean someone’s inside your system, Baldwin. I think Amanda’s whole world had been hacked. If they knew where she could be found, and who she’s recruited...”

  “I hear you. It’s either someone inside or someone close.”

  “Do you know when and where she came into the US?”

  “No. There’s nothing on her main passport, nor any of her provided identities. Though with the nature of her work, I’m sure she has a few legends we don’t know about.”

  “Who knew the FBI was so secretive?”

  “Every organization has its secrets, Samantha. Remember that. And in the meantime? Be very careful. Something feels off about all of this, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  * * *

  She found Fletcher on the second floor, staring mournfully at the crime scene, watching his people collect evidence. He shrugged when he saw her.

  “Anything new?” she asked.

  “Nope. What about you?”

  “I talked to Baldwin. He confirmed Cattafi worked for Souleyret. And we need to find the sister. Right now.”

  “Why the sudden urgency?”

  “She’s a CIA assassin. And she’s a blonde.”

  He started. “You don’t think she has something to do with this, do you?”

  “Apparently, she had a bad go of it with an IED, and it scrambled her head. If she was approached by the wrong people...hey, while I’m cooking up theories, did anyone check exactly who these two work for?”

  He checked his notebook. “One works for Marsha Harper, Republican out of Colorado. The other works for Joe Green, Democrat from New Mexico.”

  “That would make for some interesting dinner conversations. Those two are on the opposite sides of most everything. Where did these kids meet? Here in D.C.?”

  “We’re going to have to talk to their families and ask. They are both transplants. We’re contacting the local authorities to make notifications. Once that’s done, we can talk to them. Several hours at least.”

  “We might be able to take a shortcut. The next-door neighbor was friends with them. She’s a sweet old thing—they clearly looked out for her. She’s downstairs now.”

  “Yeah, all right. Nothing more I can do here, anyway. Let’s go talk to the neighbor.”

  They went down the stairs to find Eloise Poe holding court on the front porch. She was telling stories about her neighbors. Sam could hear her lilting, breathless voice, full of grief and memories.

  She introduced Eloise to Fletcher, who pulled the woman from her adoring fans and started peppering her with questions. After he’d established she was close enough to them to know what was really going on in the house, he asked about the renters’ backgrounds.

  “They met in college. University of Colorado. Jared was the president of the Young Democrats, College Democrats, something like that. I understand it’s quite a vocal force out there in Boulder. Michael was the head of the College Republicans. In the minority—he used to laugh about it. They fought like cats that first year, Jared told me once. And when there was some big hullabaloo on campus, they got hauled into the dean’s office, and something clicked. They had coffee afterward and started dating. They knew it would be a contentious road with their backgrounds and their preferences, but they fell in love, and they fought for it all the time.”

  Sam thought about the two young men lying upstairs, their lives cut tragically short.

  I’m sorry, I had no choice. It’s better this way.

  Anyone who knew their backgrounds would assume Michael had broken it off, and Jared couldn’t handle it. A good ploy, and it made Sam nervous. Normally, it took time to find out personal information about people, what the push buttons would be. This wasn’t hastily arranged.

  She thought about Amanda Souleyret, and the note found at her crime scene.

  You made me do this.

  Something there.

  She tuned back in to Mrs. Poe.

  “And they moved to D.C., started renting this house. That was—what—four, no, five years ago now. Michael took a job with that pretty woman from his home district, Marsha Harper. She’s a firecracker, that one, and he loved working for her. Jared bounced around a bit, but he was working for what’s his name, Joe. Joe Green. He’s been there for three months or so now. He was out of his probationary period, I do know that. They had us over for dinner to celebrate.”

  “Mrs. Poe, did you ever meet the owner of the house, Amanda Souleyret?” Fletcher asked.

  Eloise waved at a gnat that was dive-bombing her head. “Of course I did. Amanda and I go way back. As a matter of fact, I’m a bit peeved with her. I saw her this morning, but she didn’t even say hello. It’s been a while since she’s been by. She didn’t need to babysit her renters, no, no. Those boys, bless their hearts, they were good kids. Quiet, respectful. Hardworking. No loud, crazy parties. They’d dog-sit for us when we went out of town. This is just so horrible, I don’t understand how—” />
  Sam interrupted her. “Wait, Mrs. Poe, you saw Amanda this morning?”

  “Well, yes. She’s looking thin. She came to the fence and said hi to Tervis, then went in the back door. She wasn’t in there long, no more than ten minutes. Came out, got into her car—she has a new car, too, a nice Lexus—then drove off. Didn’t even bother to say hi, and it’s been at least two years since I saw her last.” Her eyes got wide, her mouth opened into a little O.

  “You don’t think she had anything to do with the boys, do you? Oh my!”

  Sam spoke to Fletcher, sotto voce. “The sister. It had to be.”

  Eloise had sharp hearing. “Oh no, I’m sure it was Amanda. I was upset she didn’t stick her head in to say hello.”

  “Have you ever met Amanda’s sister, Robin, Mrs. Poe?”

  “No, I haven’t. Edgar has, though. Yes, my husband’s name is Edgar Poe. Edgar Georgio Poe—his parents had a diabolical sense of humor.”

  Fletcher was already turning toward the Poes’ house. “Ma’am, could we speak to Edgar? Mr. Poe? We need to speak with Amanda’s sister right away, and we don’t have any contact information for her.”

  She started trotting after him. “Well, Edgar’s not all there, if you know what I mean. Alzheimer’s. Bless his heart, he started to go two years ago, and now he only truly recognizes me and the boys, and that’s not all the time. We can talk to him, but I can’t guarantee you’ll find out anything worthwhile. Why don’t you just ask Amanda for her sister’s information?”

  Fletcher stopped and patted the old woman on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Mrs. Poe, but Amanda was killed last night. So you see, it’s very important that we speak with your husband right now.”

  Eloise had done an admirable job of keeping it together, but with one last “Oh my,” the tears began to fall down her wrinkled face.

  Chapter 33

  THE POES’ HOUSE was clean and neat, set up almost exactly like their neighboring town house, but crammed cheek-to-jowl full of sixty-plus-odd years of a traveling life. Tchotchkes, antiques, tribal masks, French furniture, Italian paintings, bookshelves full of multicolored spines and squat Zen Buddhas competed for attention from what remained of the pristine ivory walls, which were covered in expertly taken black-and-white photographs. Everything was in its place; order reigned. But it seemed almost as if the whole house was holding its breath. If you moved one thing, the entire effect would be lost, crumbling down around their ears.

  Eloise saw them looking, gave them a benevolent smile. “I took the photos. Edgar was in the Army, you know, and we moved all over the world. I needed something to keep me occupied. Even when he retired, we both still had the travel bug, and we weren’t blessed with children, so it was always the two of us, off on our adventures.”

  They followed her into the surprisingly modern and uncluttered kitchen. Tervis the dog heard his master and came barreling in through the dog door. He turned out to be an adorable beagle who promptly sat on Sam’s foot, begging for ear rubs.

  Eloise poured out a small tot of brandy. “Sometimes Edgar likes a little drink in the afternoon. It seems to help him remember.”

  They paraded back into the living room and up the stairs. She stopped at the top.

  “Let’s not tell him about the boys just yet, or Amanda. I don’t want him getting upset. I’ll tell him later, when I think the time is right.”

  Fletcher nodded. “Of course.”

  Eloise led them to a spacious room overlooking the street out front, a den of sorts, a man’s space, with flags from various sports teams on the walls, plus more of the unusual detritus from downstairs. The room was completed with two comfortable armchairs and a flat-screen television tuned to Fox News. It was turned down low, but Sam clearly heard the words assassination attempt at Teterboro this morning.

  Xander should be home by now. She just wanted to see him, hear from his own mouth exactly what had happened. She pushed the thought away; she needed to stay focused.

  Edgar Poe was trim and neat, bald as an egg, wearing comfortable slippers, jeans and a blue denim button-down. A set of binoculars sat on the table beside him, and a sweating glass of water. He smiled at Eloise when she came in, gaily singing, “We have visitors, Edgar, isn’t that nice? This is Fletcher and this is Samantha. They want to talk about Robin and Amanda. I’ve brought you a drink to celebrate.”

  His voice was gravelly, but strong. He rolled his eyes and took the drink from her, setting it next to the binoculars. “Eloise, I may be losing my mind, but I’m not an idiot. I saw the police cars. Did something happen to the boys?”

  She deflated immediately, all the air gone from her sails, and her resolve with it. “Oh, Edgar. They’re gone. They’re both gone.”

  He got up and folded his plump little wife into his arms, patting her on the back while she cried. Tears formed in his own eyes, and he gave Fletcher and Sam an apologetic glance. “They’re like sons to us. This is terrible. Just terrible. What happened?”

  Fletcher sat on the small sofa. “We’re not sure, sir.” He gestured toward the binoculars, which Sam noticed sat on a book by the Audubon Society. “I notice you’re a bird watcher. Did you happen to see anything or anyone out of place over the past few days?”

  “I did. There was a car, parked down the street, night before last. Black sedan, like the kind you see in the motorcades. Government, without a doubt. Sat there for three hours, from dark until midnight, which is the reason it caught my eye. Those people come and go around here so often they’re as common as a sneeze. But the cars don’t linger. Drop-offs and pickups, that’s all. No surveillance. And that’s what this was.”

  “License plate?”

  He shook his head. “It was facing us. I should have gone out to check on it or called the police. Were they staking out the joint?”

  “I don’t know, sir. Has anything else caught your attention in the past few days?”

  Edgar urged Eloise toward the chair next to him. Sam saw they were just close enough for the occupants to hold hands while they sat, which they proceeded to do. It brought a lump to her throat. She knew how Alzheimer’s worked. Forgetfulness was only one part of it. It was the isolation it caused in the mind of the sufferer that was the cruelest aspect.

  He shook his head. “I was in Vietnam, you know. And Korea. Saw plenty I couldn’t understand, plenty I’d like to forget. Sometimes I just turn it all off so I don’t have to think about it. Other times, when my mind is still with me, I think I’d like to go back there. Talk to the families, see what happened to them. Know what I mean?” He grew silent. Tervis came to his daddy’s side, whining gently, pushing his head under the gnarled old hand.

  Sam glanced at Fletcher. The initial shock of their unfamiliar faces had been enough to startle Edgar Poe to the present, but Sam saw the sharp blue eyes were beginning to lose their focus. Eloise saw it, too, handed him the brandy glass.

  “Drink, sweetheart.” She gestured for Fletcher to talk quickly.

  “Sir, your wife tells me you know Robin Souleyret, the sister of your next-door neighbor, the woman who owns the house, not the renters.”

  He took a sip of the brandy. “Yes. I remember her. Skinny blonde, good tits.”

  Eloise smacked him on the arm. “Edgar. Inappropriate.”

  “What? She did. I’m old, I’m allowed to look.”

  Fletcher was fighting back a laugh. Sam saw his lips twitch. “When did you meet her, sir?”

  “She used to come around about eight, ten years ago. I don’t do so well with time. But she’d stop by every once in a while, have a meal. She was government, just like Amanda. Spook, I think. We talked about the war.”

  “Have you seen her lately?”

  “Naw. Haven’t seen Amanda, either. You know, we killed a guy once, just plain scared the shit out of him. Hu
ng him up by his thumbs in the forest. You could hear them crack when we yanked on the ropes.”

  And he drifted off, staring out the window.

  Eloise stood, shaking her head. She motioned for them to step out.

  Fletcher wasn’t quite willing to let it go. “Sir? Mr. Poe?”

  But Edgar said nothing, didn’t even acknowledge them.

  “I’m so sorry,” Eloise said. “It’s not a good day. He drifts like that, in and out of time. It must be so hard for him, so confusing.”

  Sam thought that was gracious. It had to be hard for Eloise, too.

  They followed her down the stairs, out onto the porch. Fletcher gave her his card, asked her to call if Edgar thought of anything else that might be of use, and they bid her farewell.

  Tervis stayed behind to guard his daddy while he dreamed.

  * * *

  Out in the yard, Fletcher sighed deeply.

  “That was a waste of time. Come on. Let’s go see if anyone has found Dr. Bromley.”

  Sam fell into step with him. “I don’t think it was a waste. We found out about the car. We can pull the cameras in the area, see if they captured it. Three hours is a long time to sit staring at a town house.”

  “Whoa, you don’t think he was serious, do you?”

  “I do. He was quite lucid when we came into the room. Sometimes a new pattern can shock the brain back to normalcy for a moment, almost like an electroshock. Seeing new faces in his own environment, the police cars—it was a change from his norm. It woke him up, so to speak.”

  “So we’re going to rely on the eyewitness testimony of a guy with Alzheimer’s who doesn’t even know who he is? Sam, you know that’s crazy.”

  “It’s not as crazy as you think. He was very clear about what he saw before he drifted out. I think it’s a good path to follow.”

  They got in the car, and he pulled away from the curb, thinking. “All right. Let’s ask.”

  He called Hart, who answered quickly, sounding ragged.

  “Boss, you gotta give me more than five minutes to do everything.”