Let Her Run, page 11
"Agent Tucker, what is this about?" he asked.
Jake flashed the official warrant, and Anderson's angered expression gave way to fear as his eyes darted between Jake and the warrant.
"Fine," he relented, stepping back and raising his hands in surrender. "Do what you have to do, but you won't find anything connecting us to those murders."
Jake allowed himself a small, grim smile. "We'll see about that."
As the employees watched them with a mixture of curiosity and dread, Jake couldn't shake the feeling that they were circling a nest of vipers. There was something rotten here, and he could sense it seeping through the walls and poisoning the very air they breathed. But finding the source wouldn't be easy.
"Mr. Anderson," Fiona said, "I need you to tell me where you keep the Cyphaclide and who has access to it."
Anderson's expression was anything but friendly, but he said, "It's in the warehouse behind a giant door with a code lock. You can't miss it. Only those with the code can get in. It's highly-regulated stuff."
"I need that code," Fiona said, and Jake was impressed by her boldness. She had been growing more confident with each case.
Anderson shook his head, and Jake could tell he was going to be difficult.
"No," Anderson said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't give you that code."
Jake stepped forward, the atmosphere suddenly tense. He knew that intimidation wouldn't work with a man like Anderson, but he had to try something.
"All due respect, sir," Jake began sternly. "You don't have a choice here. We need that code if we're going to investigate this case further."
Anderson was silent for a moment before finally relenting with a deep sigh. He took a notepad and pen out from his pocket, then scribbled something down. He handed it to Fiona.
"There. That's the code."
Jake nodded, grateful Anderson wasn't being too much of a thorn in their side. He had to know it was bad for his company to resist when they had a warrant.
"Let's get to work," Jake said to Fiona, his voice low and determined. "We need to cover every inch of this place. And keep an eye out for anything suspicious."
"Understood," Fiona replied, her eyes glinting with the same fire that had driven them both throughout their careers. They had faced danger together before, and Jake knew they could do it again.
They made their way into the next room. The warehouse loomed before them, its high ceiling and dim lighting casting eerie shadows across the rows of shelves stacked with insecticides. Fiona led the way, her steps echoing through the cavernous space as they made their way to the secured storage area where the poison Cyphaclide was kept.
"Here we are," she said, stopping in front of a heavy metal door with a keypad lock. "This must be where they store the Cyphaclide. We need to find out who's been taking it out and for what purpose."
"Right," Jake agreed, his eyes scanning the door for any signs of tampering. "Let's see the list of names."
Fiona punched in the code, and the door clicked open, revealing rows upon rows of neatly organized bottles and containers. The Cyphaclide, a highly regulated substance, was stored separately in a locked cabinet. Fiona produced a key, unlocked the cabinet, and carefully pulled out the logbook that recorded every instance the poison had been taken out.
"Look at this," she murmured as they flipped through the pages. "All the men have to sign off when they take it out, complete with the date, time, and job number."
"Good," Jake said, his eyes narrowing as he studied the list of names. He took a photo and forwarded it to Fiona, taking note of one of the names on the list--Mike Friesen. "Anderson said a guy named Mike was supposed to go to Roger's. It looks like he took out some of the chemicals a couple of weeks ago. I should talk to him. Meanwhile, I think we should split up to cover more ground. We need to see what they're hiding in their computer systems, too, so why don't you take that?"
"I'm on it," Fiona said.
They both left the chemical room, safely closing the door behind them. With a nod, Jake watched Fiona go before making his way to the office, where a young man looked up as Jake approached, his expression a mixture of fear and defiance. A nametag on his shirt read MIKE.
"Mike, right?" Jake asked, his voice cool and calculating.
"Y-yeah, that's me," Mike stammered, wiping his sweaty palms on his uniform. "What do you want? Anderson said the FBI was here..."
"Roger Gray called to cancel your appointment at his place, didn't he?" Jake inquired, watching the young man closely for any signs of deception.
"Uh, yeah," Mike replied hesitantly. "He said something came up, and he had to reschedule. Why? What's this about?"
"Three murders involving a rare poison, that's what this is about," Jake said, his eyes never leaving Mike's face. "And we have reason to believe that Insect Away Home might be involved."
"Hey, I didn't do anything!" Mike protested, his face pale with fear. "I don't know anything about any poison or any murders!"
"Relax," Jake said. "We're just trying to piece together the puzzle." Jake studied Mike's face, trying to gauge his sincerity. "So you're saying you have no criminal record? You've never been in any kind of trouble before?"
"None," Mike insisted, a touch of indignation creeping into his voice. "I'm just an exterminator, man. I kill bugs, not people."
"But you did check out some Cyphaclide a few weeks ago," Jake pointed out.
"Yeah, man, but it was for a job. I didn't do anything wrong."
"Can anyone account for your whereabouts yesterday night after eight p.m.?" According to Roger's neighbor, she saw him very much alive at eight, so the running theory was that Roger had to have died in the night.
"Yeah," Mike said, "I was with my girl all night and this morning, slept in late even."
Jake nodded, considering Mike's alibi. It was possible that he was telling the truth, but Jake wasn't one to take chances, especially not in a case like this.
"Okay, we'll need to verify that," Jake said, taking out his notepad to jot down some information. "What's your girlfriend's name and number?"
Mike rattled off the information, then added, "Look, I really didn't do anything wrong. I don't know anything about any murders."
Jake regarded him for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright, Mike. You're free to go for now. But don't leave town, and be available if we need to follow up with you."
Mike nodded, his expression still tinged with fear. "Yeah, okay. Anything to help, man."
Jake watched as Mike disappeared down the hall. Hopefully, Fiona was having better luck with the computers.
Something around here had to give them a concrete answer.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Fiona stood before the computer terminal in another section of the office, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she delved deeper into the company's records. She knew that Jake was counting on her to find something – anything – that would help them connect the dots. She had to stay focused. There were people relying on her--it was about more than Jake. The killer was out there, and with how fast his timeline was escalating, Fiona knew it was only a matter of time before another victim was chosen.
As she sifted through file after file, a sudden rush of adrenaline hit her chest.
A familiar name caught her eye: Glen Hartwell.
What the...
But Glen was the one victim who hadn't contacted Insect Away Home. He'd gone with Pest Control Pros.
And yet here his name was, clearly logged into their system.
They had previously believed he had no connection to Insect Away Home, but there it was, in black and white – Glen had received a quote for their services but never followed up. It seemed the quote was higher than what the other company was offering.
Even still, Glen had contacted the company. He had put himself on their radar.
"Gotcha," Fiona whispered under her breath, her pulse quickening as the potential implications of this new information began to sink in. If Insect Away Home was indeed connected to all three murder victims, then this was huge.
Fiona quickly printed out the relevant information and hurried through the building to find Jake, her thoughts a whirlwind of possibilities. They had a new lead, but with it came even more questions – and an ever-growing sense of unease. Even if this company was the connection, why were Glen, Sharon, and Roger specifically chosen? Insect Away Home had many clients, and yet these three were murdered. Fiona couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the verge of uncovering something huge, but she just wasn't quite there yet.
As Fiona rounded the corner, she spotted Jake still in the midst of a conversation with a worker. The warehouse's dim lighting cast ominous shadows on their faces, highlighting the tension that hung heavy in the air. She clutched the printouts tightly in her hand, her heart thudding against her ribcage.
"Jake," she called out, her voice wavering slightly as she approached the two men. "I found something."
Jake's gaze snapped from the employee to Fiona. He excused himself from the employee and strode over to her.
"Talk to me, Red," he said, the urgency clear in his tone.
Fiona hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the employee, who watched them with equal parts curiosity and apprehension. "Not here," she muttered, pulling Jake aside to an empty corner of the warehouse.
"Alright, what have you got?" Jake asked, his brow furrowed in anticipation.
"Look at this," Fiona said, handing him the documents. "Glen Hartwell got a quote from Insect Away Home before deciding to go with another company. They're connected to all three victims now."
"Damn," Jake muttered, scanning the papers. "This changes things. We can't rule out any of the employees anymore. It might not even be one of the exterminators; it could be someone else within the company."
Fiona nodded, her thoughts racing. "We need to check everyone – background, alibis, access to the poison."
"Agreed," Jake said, determination hardening his features. "Let's start with a list of employees."
They made their way to the office, where Fiona had previously been digging into the computer system. Pulling up the employee directory, they began combing through the names, positions, and hire dates.
"Wait," Fiona said suddenly, her finger hovering over a name on the screen. "Hal Troy, office administrator. He would have been responsible for giving quotes. He could have talked to Glen."
"Does he have access to the poison storage unit?" Jake asked, his eyes locked on the screen.
"Wouldn't be hard for him to get a key or code, I'd imagine," Fiona replied, her mind racing with possibilities. "And he'd have access to all the victims' addresses. Could he be our guy?"
"Maybe," Jake said, his jaw clenching as he weighed their options. He slung his side bag around his shoulder and pulled out his laptop. Fiona watched as Jake bit his lip in concentration, pulling up Hal Troy's file in the FBI database.
But as the information began to appear on the screen, Fiona's stomach dropped. According to the file, Hal Troy had a rough past. He'd been arrested and charged with assault in his twenties after getting into a fight in a bar – he'd ended up serving time for it. It was enough of a red flag to make them suspicious of him, but could he really be their killer?
Fiona leaned beside Jake, reading more of the information on Hal. He was thirty-eight and had a wife and a child. There wasn't much else that immediately made him stand out, but that criminal record could be the ticket. The men who were given access to the poison had record checks, but they might not have done one on an office administrator.
Either way, they needed to talk to him.
***
Jake's heart pounded in his chest as he turned on his heels, making a beeline for Anderson's office. The fluorescent lights overhead cast harsh shadows on the linoleum floor, and the distant hum of machinery seemed to grow louder with each step. He could feel Fiona's presence behind him, her own determination driving her forward. They were close to solving this thing--he could feel it.
But now he had to deal with Anderson again, a face he was quickly growing tired of seeing.
He stormed into Anderson's office. The boss looked up from his desk, annoyance flitting across his face.
"Where's Hal Troy?" Jake demanded.
"Excuse me?" Anderson replied, clearly irritated.
"Your office administrator, Hal Troy," Jake repeated, brandishing the list of employees they had printed out. "We need to talk to him."
"Today's his day off," Anderson said, raising an eyebrow at the agents' intensity. "He's not here."
"Damn it," Jake muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. That was convenient. If Hal wasn't here, it would be difficult to pin him down for questioning. And time was running out.
"Did you know Glen Hartwell contacted your company for a quote?" Fiona interjected, her words clipped and direct. Anderson's eyes narrowed, a flicker of wariness crossing his features.
"Of course I did," he replied defensively. "But we didn't get the job. He went with another company."
"Right," Fiona said softly, exchanging a knowing look with Jake. "But now we know there's a connection between all three victims and Insect Away Home."
Anderson's lips pressed into a thin line, and Jake could see the wheels turning in his head. Did he suspect one of his employees was involved in the murders? Or was he worried about the damage this investigation would do to his company's reputation? Regardless, they had no choice but to press on.
"Can you give us Hal Troy's address?" Jake asked, his voice steady and determined. "We need to speak with him as soon as possible."
"You know I'm not keen on giving out employee information," Anderson replied.
"Do I need to remind you we have a warrant?" Jake fired back.
Anderson's expression hardened. "What do you have on Hal, anyway? What makes you think he's worth looking into? The guy's a dweeb--that's why I hired him. He's not a killer."
"Did you know he has a criminal record?" Jake asked.
Anderson scowled. "What?"
"Assault," Jake clarified. "Maybe you don't know him as well as you thought."
"Fine," Anderson spat, scribbling down Hal's address on a notepad and thrusting it towards Jake. "You want to talk to him so badly? Go ahead. But if he's innocent, I expect you to clear his name."
Jake felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. They were getting closer to the truth, inch by uncomfortable inch.
"There," Anderson said. "But I swear, if this turns out to be nothing more than a wild goose chase, I don't mind going public that the FBI has been senselessly harassing my employees."
"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that," Fiona murmured, her eyes fixed on the address in Jake's grasp. The tension between them was palpable, the weight of their discoveries bearing down on their shoulders like an invisible force.
"Thanks," Jake said tersely, pocketing the address before turning to leave the office. He tried to bite his tongue, but he couldn't resist: "And Mr. Anderson, next time, don't resist cooperating. And don't threaten us, either. If one of your men ends up being the killer, and they've been using your company's poison--you'll have a lot more to worry about."
Anderson's face turned red with anger as he watched Jake and Fiona leave his office. But Jake didn't care about the man's temper tantrum; he had a job to do, and nothing was going to stop him from getting to the bottom of this case.
As they made their way out of the building, Fiona spoke up. "Do you believe Hal is the killer?"
Jake pursed his lips, weighing the evidence in his mind. "It's possible. We know he had access to the poison, and his criminal record is a red flag. But until we speak with him, we can't be sure."
Fiona nodded, her eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. "And if he is the killer?"
Jake's jaw tightened. "We'll do what we have to do to bring him to justice."
The words hung heavy in the air between them, a reminder of the gravity of their work.
If they failed, then they'd have a lot more to worry about too.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The storm had finally cleared, leaving behind a fresh scent of damp earth hanging in the air. As Jake pulled up to the suspect's house, he couldn't help but feel unease creeping up his spine. The quaint suburban house, with its white picket fence and perfectly manicured lawn, seemed like any other on the block. But there was something off about it, something that Jake just couldn't put his finger on. Beside him, Fiona shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Here it is," Jake said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Hal Troy's place."
"Let's hope we find some answers here," Fiona replied, her eyes scanning the house for any signs of movement.
They got out of the car and made their way toward the house. Jake knocked on the front door, the sound echoing through the stillness of the day. They waited, but there was no response. Trying the doorbell, Jake pressed the button, hearing the chime inside the house. Still nothing. A nagging worry began to gnaw at him. Hal Troy had a criminal record, and considering his position at Insect Away Home, he would have access to both the victims' addresses and the poison used to kill them.
"Doesn't seem like anyone's home," Fiona observed, her voice tense.
"Or he's hiding," Jake muttered under his breath. He knew that time was running out; they needed to find Hal before another person was killed. Every second counted, and Jake could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on him like an invisible shroud. His mind raced, thoughts swirling around. What if they were wrong about Hal? What if they were wasting valuable time that could be spent tracking down the real killer? The doubts clawed at him, threatening to consume him whole.
"Let's try the back door," he suggested, hoping that maybe they'd find a clue or some sign of Hal's guilt there.
As they made their way around the side of the house, Jake couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. He knew in his gut that they were on the right track; it was just a matter of finding the evidence they needed to prove it.
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