Duplicity, page 19
“Questions, anyone?” Agent Harrison asked as he looked around the table.
“Is your investigation concluded?” Ron asked.
“Not entirely. We’re trying to locate as many of her past patients as we can. Guess I shouldn’t refer to them as patients, more like fraud victims. They deserve to know they were seeing a therapist who was a fake. And from them, we may gain more insight into the mind of Ellen Roberts. I suspect the Behavioral Science Unit will be studying and writing about her for a long time.” Agent Harrison handed a copy of his report to Lieutenant Hughes. “I will, of course, keep you informed of anything else we discover.”
“Do either of you need a break?” Lieutenant Hughes asked after Agent Harrison left.
“I could use one and a cup of coffee.” Ron left for a Starbucks run with a request for a caramel macchiato from the lieutenant.
“Brick, there’s something I’ve been considering, and I wanted to run it by you before I mention it to Ron. Getting back to work now might be therapeutic for him and working with you on the Yang case would give him the flexibility he may need. What are your thoughts?”
“Sounds good to me.”
A few minutes later, Ron returned with the drink Lieutenant Hughes requested and a cup he set down in front of Brick. “Green tea, didn’t want you to feel left out.”
“Thanks.”
“Least I could do for saving my life.”
Brick raised his cup in Ron’s direction. “Twice.”
“Yeah, twice.” Ron sighed loudly as he sat down. “That was rough.” He took a sip of coffee. “I want to know; I mean I have to know, but hearing how close Jasmine came … I can’t stop thinking about what might have happened if we hadn’t rolled up when we did.” He picked up his cup but set it back down. Ron’s dreads swayed as he shook his head. He exhaled loudly. “She could have made it look like Jasmine killed herself while she took off with the twins for parts unknown.”
“Ron, try not to think of what could have happened. It sounds to me like you two were at the right place at the right time,” Lieutenant Hughes said.
“Maybe, but I kind of think it was something else. More like divine intervention?”
“That’s certainly possible,” Lieutenant Hughes said.
Brick agreed but wondered why Ron, who was far more religious, seemed conflicted.
“The problem is, if I believe it was an act of God, I need to find it in my heart to forgive Ellen Roberts.” Ron gazed down at his left hand, seemingly focused on his wedding ring. “I think I’m a good Christian. At least, I try to be, but I don’t know if I can ever forgive her.”
“Ron, I think forgiveness is a process,” Lieutenant Hughes said. “It doesn’t have to happen immediately, and it might help if you speak with your pastor.”
“You mean if he ever comes back from Vegas?”
Lieutenant Hughes grabbed a napkin and covered her mouth. She appeared to swallow hard before lowering the napkin. “I just came way too close to a macchiato spit take.” She set her cup aside. “I had forgotten about the pastor’s … let’s say pilgrimage to Sin City.” Her comment seemed to provide the comic relief to lighten the atmosphere in the room. “Anyway, remember the Employee Assistance Program has counselors available 24/7.”
“Good to know. I’ll probably take advantage of that when I get back to work. Hopefully, that will happen soon.”
“How about now, with flexible hours?” Lieutenant Hughes paused as if trying to read Ron’s reaction. “I think it would be mutually beneficial for you and Brick to work together on the Yang cold case.”
“Seriously?”
Lieutenant Hughes nodded.
Ron smiled broadly exposing the gap between his front teeth. He gave Brick a high five. “Only a fool would pass up a chance to work with this guy.”
“All right then, that’s settled.” She picked up the cup from Starbucks and took a drink before turning in Brick’s direction. “Any new developments?”
“After discussing the files I found with Grace Alexander, I realized the need to talk with the Chief Financial Officer. I’ve set up an appointment with him for tomorrow morning.” Brick cleared his throat. “I’m not looking forward to it, but tomorrow afternoon, a meeting with Blancato.”
A smile crossed the lieutenant’s lips. “Just put on your big boy pants.”
Coming from anyone else, Brick would have found the comment condescending, but given the rapport he and Hughes had established, he took it in stride and laughed at her advice.
Lieutenant Hughes glanced at her watch. “We’re going to have to wrap this up. I need to go over to District Court for the swearing in of the new U.S. Marshal.”
“Any scuttlebutt on him?” Brick asked.
“I’m hearing good things, but it goes without saying, he’s a political appointee. Ask me in a couple of months what I think.” Lieutenant Hughes pushed back her chair, got up, and stepped over to the locked filing cabinet behind her desk. She entered a code and opened the top drawer.
“I believe these belong to you.” She handed Ron his badge and service revolver.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
THE GRAY, DREARY morning didn’t dampen Brick’s enthusiasm for the day ahead. Thanks to Lieutenant Hughes assigning Ron to the Yang case, he was looking forward to working with his former partner, reuniting as a team to do what they had done so successfully. Brick didn’t want to get ahead of himself but solving this cold case may have potential for working on others gathering dust.
Dress to impress. Brick muttered the words under his breath as he scanned the contents of his packed, but well-organized, walk-in closet. He felt compelled to carefully choose the suit he would wear to today’s meeting as he recalled comments Grace Alexander had made about Alphonso Baez and after seeing several photos of him in Washingtonian magazine. The eligible bachelor appeared to be a regular at see-and-be-seen events, ranging from casual charity fundraisers to black-tie galas at the Kennedy Center. Based on the status-conscious mentality so much a part of life within the Beltway, Brick had reason to believe his and Ron’s credibility would be judged by Lincoln University’s Chief Financial Officer based on the cut of their suits and the fabric of their ties.
After selecting a dark suit, Brick reached for a navy blue–and maroon-striped tie hanging on a rack arranged by color. It had been several months since he had worn a suit and he was relieved this one still fit as well as it did on the day he bought it at Brooks Brothers. Just as he finished adjusting his tie, his cell phone pinged with a text from Ron.
“On my way.”
Brick slipped his wallet into his pants pocket, grabbed his cell phone and keys, and headed downstairs to wait. As soon as he saw the Crown Vic pull up in front of his condo building, he felt his heart beat a little faster. For an instant it felt like what used to be the start of a typical shift.
“Looking good, partner.”
“Thanks. You, too.” Brick closed the car door and adjusted his seat belt.
“Yeah, based on what you told me about Baez, I thought about the teachings of Dr. King. You know, the saying about not judging a man by the content of his character, but where he buys his suits. Pulled out my best threads, even took a shower … last week.”
“I don’t recall that quote, but it sounds like you’re ready.” Despite what Ron had been through lately, it seemed his sense of humor was intact and for that Brick was grateful.
Ron pulled away from the curb and headed south on Connecticut Avenue. At 9:30 a.m., rush hour should have been winding down, but as he crossed the Calvert Street Bridge, traffic was at a standstill.
“What’s going … oh, man, a motorcade.”
“No worries, we’ve got plenty of time. How are things on the home front?” Brick asked.
“Good. Jasmine’s mother is spoiling me along with the twins.” Ron smiled as he patted his midsection. “Last night she made a baked ham and mac and cheese. No wonder I’ve regained the weight I lost and probably added a few pounds.”
“And Jasmine?”
“Saw her yesterday for a couple of hours. We had a long session with one of her therapists and it went well. Jasmine doesn’t remember much about the days in Jessup, but she said some things that make sense. It seems Reznick, or I should say Roberts, convinced her that she and the twins were in immediate danger.”
“From you?”
“Right. Jasmine thought they were going to a women’s shelter near Baltimore where they would be safe. It would give her time to figure out what she needed to do. She remembers driving to BWI and parking in the long-term lot. Then Roberts drove her and the twins to Jessup. From that point on, Roberts was in charge and controlled everything. There was no TV, radio, cell phone, internet.”
“Power play—no communication with the outside world and total dependence on Roberts.”
“Exactly. Right away, Roberts started drugging Jasmine. She said she lost track of time, and everything became distorted. Even when she was awake, she said she felt like she was in a hazy, sleep-like state. Hard to believe, but she doesn’t remember being removed from the house by the SWAT team.”
The distant sound of sirens grew louder as three motorcycles and a pair of police cars sped past followed by a couple of SUVs and a limousine.
“That’s it? Definitely not POTUS.”
“Yeah, whoever that was, one box lower on the organizational chart and they’d be riding the Metro to wherever they’re going.” Ron signaled to turn as he approached Massachusetts Avenue and merged into the lane behind a shiny black town car. “Is it just me or are there a lot more cars with diplomat plates these days?”
“Does seem that way. Just keep your distance.”
“Absolutely. The last thing I want to do is a ton of paperwork for a fender bender that turns into an international incident. Plus, I’ve had my fifteen minutes; happy to fly under the radar, as the saying goes. Anyway, getting back to Jasmine. I guess it’s possible she’ll start remembering more details, but according to her treatment team, it’s unlikely. The therapist thinks the best strategy going forward is reassuring her that I’m not a threat and that her home is safe. It may mean having her mother live with us for a while and I’m down with that.”
“I would be, too, just based on the mac and cheese.” That brought a laugh from Ron. “Seriously, whatever it takes, that’s what you need to do.”
“I know, and Lieutenant Hughes has offered to talk to Jasmine about Holly if I thought it would help. I haven’t decided, but I’m leaning toward having her do that at some point. What do you think?”
“In court, hearing the same thing from two witnesses is always better than one. Plus, I think you can trust the lieutenant to sensitively explain Holly’s texting games. So far, based on my experience with her, I’m impressed. Think about how her predecessor would have handled your situation.”
“Oh, Blancato? If he thought it would have in any way reflected badly on him, I would have been under the bus in a heartbeat.”
Ron drove to the north end of Lincoln University’s campus and pulled into a parking space between a Lexus and a Volvo SUV. He placed the department-issued, official police business placard in the windshield of the Crown Vic. “Ready?”
Brick nodded. “I’ve been thinking, I want you to take the lead. Introduce yourself and then just refer to me by name. He’ll probably assume I’m a detective, too, but we need to be careful to not misrepresent my position.”
“Okay, but what if he asks about your role?”
“Then I’ll explain.”
“Roger that.”
As they walked through the faculty parking lot, Brick looked around. “Get the feeling we’re at the auto show?”
“Looks that way. I just hope they don’t tow our wheels because it’s an eyesore.” Before heading up the stairs of the stately, ivy-covered Business Administration Building, Ron stopped and took a deep breath. “Ahh, filling my lungs with the rarefied air.”
Brick laughed while agreeing with Ron’s observation. Like many places in the nation’s capital, this campus served as a reminder of the wealth some enjoyed that others were denied. After signing in at the security desk, Brick and Ron were given visitor badges and told an escort would be with them shortly. A few minutes later, they were handed off to the Chief Financial Officer’s secretary, an attractive woman who appeared to be in her mid-fifties. She was wearing a classic Hillary Clinton–style pantsuit and a floral print Burberry scarf.
“Good morning. Mr. Baez will be with you as soon as he finishes his conference call.” Together they took the elevator to the fourth floor and entered the double glass doors at the end of the hallway. “Please have a seat.” She pointed to a beige leather sofa. “May I get you a beverage—coffee, tea, spring water?”
Brick and Ron took a seat but declined the beverage offer. From his vantage, Brick glanced at the telephone on the secretary’s desk. There were four lines, and it appeared none were in use. After about ten minutes, Brick approached the secretary.
“Excuse me, on second thought, I would like a cup of tea.”
“Of course, black or green?”
“Green, please.”
“Detective Hayes, something to drink?”
“Yes, thank you. Coffee with cream and sugar.”
Baez’s assistant left, which was exactly what Brick had hoped for. He stepped behind her desk and listened outside the door to Baez’s office for the sound of either a one-sided conversation or voices on a speakerphone. He didn’t hear anything and sat back down wondering if there really was a call, or if this was Baez’s way of letting them know whose time was the most important. Fifteen minutes passed while Brick drank his tea and Ron finished his coffee. Finally, the door to Baez’s office opened.
“Gentlemen, right this way.” Standing in the doorway, Alphonso Baez pointed to a pair of upholstered chairs in front of a modern glass and chrome desk. Behind the desk, a wall of windows provided a sweeping view of Key Bridge and the high-rise buildings in the Rosslyn section of Arlington County. Baez settled into his executive-style leather chair and faced Brick and Ron.
“Okay, let’s get started.”
It wasn’t lost on Brick that from the man known to work the room, there were no introductions, no handshakes, nor an apology for keeping them waiting. Apparently, Baez didn’t feel the need to waste his charm on two guys from the police department.
“Certainly,” Ron said. “We appreciate you meeting with us and don’t want to take up more of your time than is absolutely necessary.”
Brick was proud of his protégé’s polite approach. It’s how he would have handled it himself even though Baez hadn’t earned being treated respectfully.
Ron leaned forward, closing the distance between himself and Baez. “As I mentioned when I spoke with your secretary, we’re looking into the death of Henry Yang, a former Lincoln University student.”
With a look of boredom, Baez nodded his head.
“Were you familiar with—”
“Detective, the death of a student is very unusual. I’m sure everyone associated with the University at the time knew about it.”
“I understand,” Ron said in a matching condescending tone. “But I was about to ask if you knew Henry.”
“Perhaps you’re not aware, Lincoln U. has over 5,000 full-and part-time students. As Chief Financial Officer, I have little to no interaction with them.”
Brick noticed the emphasis Baez placed on his title as he dodged Ron’s question for the second time.
“I was not aware of the size of the student body—that’s impressive.” Ron paused. “But you didn’t answer my question. From what I’ve learned, Henry Yang was interning at the Financial Aid Office.”
Baez shrugged. “In that case, I may have met him.”
“But you’re not sure?”
“If you consider passing someone in the hall, exchanging pleasantries as meeting that person, then I suppose I did.”
Brick wasn’t buying it. Unless there was something to be gained, exchanging pleasantries didn’t sound like Baez’s style.
“Are you aware of the type of assignments interns may be given?” Ron asked.
“Detective, I am not a micromanager. It is the responsibility of my very capable staff, in whom I have total confidence, to supervise interns assigned to their offices.”
For a split second, Ron glanced at Brick. A very subtle nod was their way of passing the baton.
“Understood. Sounds like we got ahead of ourselves. Do you know who would have supervised Henry during his internship?”
“Not off the top of my head, of course.” Baez had dialed down the attitude. “I’ll have my secretary check our records. She’ll contact you with what she finds.”
“Thanks, that would be very helpful,” Brick said as he stood. He glanced over at Ron who was now also standing. “We appreciate your time.”
Baez nodded as he pushed back his chair and stepped around his desk. As he ushered Brick and Ron out of his office, he shook their hands at the door.
Neither Brick nor Ron spoke until they left the building and headed toward the parking lot.
“Mission accomplished, partner?” Ron asked.
“I think so. What he didn’t say told us a hell of a lot more than what he did.”
“Yeah, and I liked the attitude shift when he probably figured he was off the hook.” Ron unlocked the driver’s side of the cruiser. “I’m not holding my breath until we hear back from his secretary.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
WHEN IT BEGAN operations in 2002, the Department of Homeland Security was temporarily located on the grounds of a former naval facility in the Tenleytown section of Northwest D.C. Eleven years later, it was still located at the Nebraska Avenue complex of two-story beige brick buildings scattered across several acres. After checking in at the guard’s station, Ron drove to the parking lot across from the building housing the Office of Partnership and Engagement. He removed the car keys from the ignition and turned in Brick’s direction.
