Travis Starnes
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Burying the Past (John Taylor #4) - Chapter 13
🕑 Added 2019-10-16 13:37:49 +0000 UTC
Washington DC
They spent the rest of the day working on Bennett without much success. Taylor had been more right than he knew, as her rumblings became more incoherent with each hour they pressed her. After six hours and five interrogators taking a shot at breaking her, Crawford held up his hands in disgust.
"You're right, she's batshit crazy."
"I told you," Taylor said. "Someone’s done a serious number on her. She might be telling us something we can use, but it's impossible to tell with it mixed in with all the crazy."
"You two go home," Crawford said. "We won't get anything from the lab until the morning."
“We could keep working on finding the other kid,” Taylor offered.
“We don’t have anything new, you’d just be spinning your wheels. Trust me on this, take the moments when things slow down to get some downtime. I’ve worked a bunch of red balls in my career so I understand the feeling of urgency. These things don’t go down overnight and you don’t want to wear yourself down to the point that you’re no good to us when something breaks. I’ll have the lab push overtime looking over her clothes and possessions for trace evidence and we’ll keep someone going at her for most the night. Hopefully between the two we’ll have some new leads for you in the morning.”
“See you in the morning,” Whitaker said, grabbing Taylor's arm and leading him to the elevators.
“I just don’t get how you people work. Once I’m on something, I can’t just go home for the night and chill until something new drops. I’m not a fan of waiting for new leads to find me.”
“The difference is on your cases, you work alone and you have to dig up all the leads yourself. You’re working with us now. We may be going home but there are still a couple of dozen agents working on this overnight. We’re not waiting on leads to come to us, we’re working on a team. Your real problem is you’re a control freak and don’t like handing over the reins.”
“Look who’s talking,” Taylor shot back.
“You don’t see me getting my panties in a bunch.”
“Fine. We’ll let other people work on it for now. Let’s go get Kara and go home.”
Taylor wasn’t happy to see several reporters lined up outside the gates to the Senator’s townhouse. He knew it wasn’t unexpected, considering it was the middle of the election season. Taylor didn’t follow politics closely, but he knew she’d won her party’s nomination and the election was contentious. News that her daughter had been kidnaped and taken out of the country had thrown gasoline on an already impressive fire, and the media had worked themselves into a frenzy.
They’d called ahead, so one of the Senators' security people was already at the gate that nominally blocked off her DC home from the street. It was more of a gesture at security than an actual boundary and wouldn’t keep out anyone actually determined to get into the Senators' home. That’s what her armed security (which was now the Secret Service rather than private security now that she was one of the two major nominees for President) was for.
While it was an impressive home in the elite DC suburbs used by high ranking politicians going back to Woodrow Wilson, it didn’t compare to the massive compound she maintained in South Carolina. While fancy, this looked a lot more normal, if you managed to look past the obviously armed men standing around watching the reporters who in turn watched them.
They’d pulled up to the curb in front of the Senators' home and as soon as Taylor was out of the car the reporters recognized him. It wasn’t the mad rush he’d experienced at the press conference since there were a lot fewer reporters stationed outside the Senators home than had been present at that event, but they tried their best to make up for their lower numbers by sheer volume.
The questions ranged from the fairly normal ones like ‘What do you think the Senators chances are?’ to the tin foil hat variety, including one guy who asked over and over if Taylor was in a secret relationship with Senator Caldwell.
Taylor glowered at them, but Whitaker was surprisingly good at saying ‘no comment’ in a way that didn’t sound like she wanted to kill the person asking questions. They’d called ahead and were both already vetted by the secret service, so they were able to get through the gate and into her house quickly, limiting how long the reporters had to yell questions at them.
“John, Loretta, how’s the investigation going,” the Senator said as she breezed into the entryway to greet them, giving both a hug.
“Progressing, but slower than we’d like,” Whitaker said.
“My committee met last night to talk about the attack in Virginia. Some of the members are making noises about calling out the National Guard until John’s terrorist has been caught.”
While Taylor had by far the most experience with Qasim as anyone else in US law enforcement, he had to wonder at what point Qasim became ‘his terrorist’.
“Where would they even be deployed? Amberville was a tiny dot on the map and clearly a test for wherever the real attack will occur. We still have no idea what his final target is, nor can we rule out another test in some other small town. You can’t just deploy the guard across the country, not and actually do any good at least.”
“That was pointed out, but these are politicians. There was an attack on U.S. soil and they have to be seen doing something. The President is currently holding them at bay, but I know he’s already getting an earful. You’d make all our lives easier if you’d just catch them.”
“We’re really trying ma’am,” Taylor said.
“I know you are John. Now let's talk about what’s really important. I understand congratulations are in order.”
Whitaker held up her hand to show the Senator her ring.
“Very nice, it fits her very well. You did a good job, John.”
If Taylor didn’t know Caldwell so well, he would have taken the ‘fits her well’ comment as a slight on the smaller size of the stone. The Senator, however, had never made him feel bad about their different status levels, so he took it at face value.
“Kara helped me pick it out.”
“Ahh, that explains it,” she said, patting him on the cheek. “You’re a good man, but fashion has never been one of your strong points. Have you set a date?”
“No, Ma’am,” Whitaker said. “He just asked me last night, and there’s so much going on with the case right now that there isn’t really time to talk about it.”
“I want to put you in touch with Meredith Smoot. She plans all my parties and did mine and my late husbands' wedding. She’s a miracle worker. I know you two never stop working, and she’ll make sure you have the wedding of your dreams.”
“That’s a lovely offer,” Whitaker said giving Taylor side-eyed look, “but we wouldn’t want to impose. Once you win you’ll have a bunch of parties to plan and …”
“Nonsense. Most of those will be thrown by the party, and they’ll handle it. I know you’re probably thinking you can’t afford to use my wedding planner, so I’ll make this easy and pay for it myself.”
“Senator,” Taylor protested. “We couldn’t possibly …”
“John, I won’t take no for an answer. Besides a debt that I’ll never be able to finish repaying, we love Kara to death, and you two are some of my favorite people. A woman only gets one show at this - well, ideally - and it needs to be magical. Now, no more protesting. You know I get my way when I set my sights on things, so either give up now and accept my offer or I’ll just browbeat you, and then you’ll give up and do it my way. Either way, we all know how this is going to end.”
She was smiling, but her tone had changed almost imperceptibly. It was still friendly and warm, but with a steel edge to it. He’d never seen her go full Senator before and knew this was only a taste of her powers of persuasion, but he found it hard to say no. He couldn’t even imagine what she was like when she really got going.
“We accept,” Whittaker said, earning a bright smile.
“Excellent. I’m glad he has someone reasonable keeping him in line.”
Whitaker and Caldwell laughed but smiling at Taylor. He knew he was beat and just held up his hands.
“Now that I’ve shown what a wonderful person I am, I can impose on John for a favor.”
“You don’t need to do anything to ask me a favor,” Taylor said.
“Yes, but this way it’s harder for you to say no. I was talking to my campaign manager today and he says you are testing extremely well across most demographics. I know right now you have to be focused on catching your terrorist, but once you get him I’d like for you to help me with some of our campaign events.”
“I’m not much of a public speaker.”
She laughed and said, “I won’t have you giving any speeches, just shaking hands and saying nice things about me. While I’m getting a lot of support from women and young people, we’re having trouble with the more traditional sections of the public who aren’t sure of a woman being in command of the military. We want to use your glowing military credentials and grizzled veteran persona to put them at ease.”
“I’m not sure why people would care what I have to say, but if you need me, then sure, I’d be glad to help.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, because I already have something I need you to do.”
Taylor thought ‘of course you do,’ but managed to refrain from saying it out loud. Not only because it would have been disrespectful, but he’d meant it when he said he was happy to help. He just couldn’t help but notice how easily she had walked him exactly where she wanted him to go.
“What do you need?”
“I’m not sure if you realized it or not, but tomorrow night is the first of my three debates with my opponent. We’re allowed to have guests sit in the family section to support us, and I wanted you and Whitaker there. I understand you want to keep Kara off camera so I understand if you wanted her to stay home. You will be on camera and shown on national TV, so you’ll have to dress professionally. We’d want you to sit next to Mary Jane. You won’t have to give any speeches or anything. Just clap for me when you feel it’s appropriate and look supportive.”
Taylor hadn’t realized they’d already gotten to the debates. He always thought those happened closer to election time.
“You want him to sit next to Mary Jane so that people will connect how they know each other, don’t you?” Whitaker asked.
Caldwell lifted her hands in small gesture, sighed and said, “Yes. When you say it like that it sounds bad. I’ve already discussed it with Mary Jane to make sure she was okay with it first; but like I said, the election's closer than I’d like. My campaign manager feels it’s a good strategy to not only remind people I’m a mother, but that my family has undergone its own hardships. I know it comes off a bit sleazy and I’d understand if you didn’t want to do it. Please believe me though, that Mary Jane has been a politicians daughter for a long time and understands the realities we sometimes have to deal with.”
“I get it,” Taylor said, “and if it won’t bring up anything negative for either of the girls, then I don’t have a problem with it. I’d be fine doing it, but we are also in the middle of a pretty important case. There’s a strong chance I won’t be available if something breaks.”
“That’s fine. Your work, especially now, definitely comes first. Please just let me know as soon as you know if you’re free or not. I’ll have someone standing by to take your spot in case you two can’t make it.”
“Then sure, count us in.”
“Great. Now that I’ve bent you two to my will, let’s get Kara,” she said, laughing as she escorted them into the townhouse.It turned out the Senator and her daughter had an event in a few hours which limited the time they had to visit once they found the girls. Taylor realized she’d made a special effort to be at her house once she found out Taylor and Whitaker were coming by to collect Kara. Considering he’d already agreed, at least in principle, to help her with her campaign, she could have asked for more of his help over the phone, but he did appreciate the personal touch she put on things. It was probably one of the things that made her such a good politician.
Instead of going home we decided to go out to eat to celebrate our engagement.
“So I understand I have you to thank for the picking out such a nice ring?” Whitaker asked Kara once we were seated.
“I wasn’t going to leave it up to him. Have you seen how he dresses?”
They both laughed as Taylor, made a face at them and said, “I’m sitting right here.”
“Ohh, she’s just teasing you,” Whitaker said. “But you have to admit she has a point. You complain every time you end up having to go shopping with me. Are you saying you would have had any idea what to have picked without Kara’s help?”
“Maybe,” Taylor lied.
“So how did he do it?” Kara asked.
“He caught me totally off guard. We were in another crappy hotel like the one we stayed at the first time we worked together and he surprised me by getting down on his knees and opening this box. He was really sweet.”
“At least he now makes you honest woman. When do you want to do wedding?”
“I have no idea, honestly,” Whitaker said. “We’d kinda talked about getting married a few times, but I was blindsided by it and haven’t had time to really process it yet. Maybe next summer, but I guess it depends on how complicated the ceremony ends up being.”
“We could just go to the courthouse and have the judge sign off on it,” Taylor offered.
“Ha, I have no doubt that’s what you prefer, but a girl only gets married once and we all grow up with dreams of what our perfect ceremony will be.”
The smile on Kara’s face dropped and she began clenching her hands on her lap. Taylor noticed the darkness that had passed over her face and reached over and put his hand on hers, stopping the fidgeting. Letting out a big sigh, Kara looked up and gave him a weak smile.
“Sorry,” she said. “I just never had that dream and I … I don’t know. I’m being silly.”
“Don’t be. I get it. You know what your doctor said. It’s ok to mourn the things you didn’t get to have.”
“I know.”
“Plus you can make new memories,” Whitaker said. “Starting with being my maid of honor.”
“Really?” Kara asked, her body language shifting perceptibly.
“I couldn’t imagine anyone else doing it.”
“You know now that the Senator’s involved you’re going to lose control of this thing,” Taylor said.
“It’s ok, she has great taste. I’m betting her friend is just as discerning.”
“If you’re happy, I guess it’s ok. I know better than to try and dictate how the wedding’s going to be. You just tell me what you need me to do, where I need to be, and when and I’ll just say ‘yes, Dear,’ and follow instructions.”
“And you said he could no be trained,” Kara teased.
“I’d be careful if I were you. I know where you sleep,” Taylor said with a smile.
“I’m a Princessa, you’d not do things to me.”
“Keep believing that.”
“Don’t worry,” Whitaker said. “He’s all bark.”
“So this is how it’s going to be now, huh? The girls all ganging up on me.”
“We women must stick together,” Kara said.
“So are we all set for your citizenship swearing-in at the end of the week?” Taylor asked, changing the subject before things got even more out of hand.
“I think so. There is nothing left to do after the last meeting. I just have to show up, raise hand and swear oath. I do get to invite people to ceremony, so I ask Mary Jane and her mom to come. They say they be there.”
“I’m glad they’ve agreed to go and support you, but have you thought through what having the Senator there will mean?” Whitaker asked.
“What do you mean?”
“She’s running for president. Anywhere she goes, the press will show up. The story on you is starting to fall off as the press got onto the next story, but her showing up will bring everything back up again. Immigration is a big thing in this election, and how you were pushed through the process set off some of the people out there making noise. Her being there will turn it into a zoo and you’ll be back in the public eye again.”
“I ask her if it would be problem, and she say no,” Kara protested.
“Once she was able to get your story out last time she picked up ground. Your story is sympathetic and a lot of people came to your defense, so no, it won’t hurt her. If anything, she will probably be able to use you for a second shot at building sympathy and helping her with women voters.”
“She’s no like that!” Kara said defensively.
“I know she’s your friend and she definitely wants to be there to support you, but she’s also a politician working at the highest level. She’s running for the most contested position in the country. It’s second nature for her to consider those things.”
“She isn’t trying to say the Senator is going to use you,” Taylor said, backing Whitaker up. “It’s just that she can’t afford to do anything without considering how it affects politics. It’s not negative, it’s just how things are for her.”
“I guess. I still want her and Mary Jane there though. They are my friends.”
“I know,” Whitaker said, reaching across to put her hand on Kara’s. “I’m glad they’re going to be there to support you. I just wanted you to consider everything.”
Kara grunted in typical teenager fashion and crossed her arms, knowing Whitaker didn’t actually mean anything negative but not wanting to admit she was overreacting.
“There’s another thing,” Taylor said as gently as he could since he knew Kara wouldn’t be happy with what he was going to say. “We don’t know if this case is going to be wrapped up by then. Unless we are actively chasing someone or at a crime scene, I’ll make sure we plan on being back here to go and leaving anything we can’t cover to someone else, but there’s a chance we won’t be able to get away.”
Kara sighed and said, “I know. When you got case involving him, I knew you would no be able to walk away. I get it, if I had chance to go after those pigs again, I’d miss best friends ceremony, even if I feel bad.”
“You know if it’s even a tiny bit possible, we’ll absolutely be there.”
“I know. You no worry, I not hold it against you. I know you love me.”
“Good,” Taylor said. “If we’re all done arguing, let’s get back home.
Kara was still a little grumpy as they headed back to Alexandria, but Taylor knew that would pass and once again wondered if he’d been as big of a pain to his own parents.
Washington DC
They showed up early enough at the Hoover building the next morning that the garage was practically empty, or at least as empty as it ever got in a building that never actually closed. The bureaucratic machinery of the Bureau that kept it running while agents were out actually catching bad guys wouldn’t be in for a few hours, making the building feel like a ghost town as they rode the elevator up to the offices being used by the task force.
“Any luck?” Whitaker asked as they stopped by Crawford’s office.
The man looked worn down as he looked up from the stacks of paper on his desk. His tie was missing and his face was covered in stubble. He either looked like a haggard detective or a fall down drunk, two things that were sometimes one and the same.
“Not as much as we’d like. She eventually ran out of crazy shit to rant about and just went quiet. We still aren’t getting anything, but at least I don’t have to listen to that nonsense anymore.”
“Anything outside the interviews?”
“No. You two can go double-check, but from the minute she left the University of Tennessee until she popped up in Hagerstown, we have nothing on her. That’s about a day and a half where she’s completely unaccounted for.”
“I don’t think she played a direct hand in the activities in Amberville. They were already working to start their test, which means they’d already scouted it out. By that point, she wouldn’t have been needed anymore, and the risk of her being recognized would be too high.”
“Agreed. The thing we don’t know is if she was still doing something for Qasim when we picked her up.”
“I think it’s likely. Considering how wired up everything is these days, she did a good job of staying off the radar for as long as she did. I’m betting that diner was picked on purpose for a rest stop. Most newer fast food places have cameras up and they’ve been pretty well-schooled on staying off of video. It’s not a coincidence that the place she picked had no cameras.”
“It didn’t?” Whitaker asked.
“He’s right, it didn’t. One of the agents on the scene pointed it out to us. Unlike most larger cities these days, they don’t have traffic cameras up. I’m not talking about red light cameras, there’s a lot of places with those. Traffic cameras are different, used by various city transportation departments for gauging light timing and traffic patterns. Even smaller cities have those, mostly. Hagerstown is planning on getting a system, but isn’t going to actively put it up till next year.”
“Stopping in a city without public traffic cameras in a diner without security cameras can’t be an accident,” Whitaker pointed out.
“It’s not,” Taylor said. “It’s exactly how Qasim thinks and how he’d train his people to act.”
“So she was still actively working for him?”
“I'd bet on it,” Crawford said. “Now if …”
The cell phone sitting on the edge of his desk started ringing, interrupting his next thought.
“Crawford … yeah … yeah … no, I want something now, the rest can wait … ok, send someone up to brief us first.”
Disconnecting, Crawford turned to look at Whitaker and Taylor.
“We might be in luck. The lab boys were looking over Bennett’s clothes and said they found something. They wanted to wait till they had time to type up a proper report, but I convinced them to give us at least an overview of what they had.”
Taylor wondered when commanding someone to do something became the meaning of ‘convincing’ but he couldn’t fault the results. He didn’t want to wait the day or so it would take for one of their footnoted and appendixed reports to be delivered, and he skipped most of the mumbo-jumbo in those things anyway. He couldn’t fault them being thorough, but he didn’t need to know the science behind their conclusions. That was for the lawyers.
They moved to a conference room and pulled in several other agents from the task force while they waited for one of the technicians to make their way up to them. Eventually, one of the ‘lab boys’ showed up and turned out to be a fairly attractive woman in her late twenties.
“As instructed,” she began after introductions were out of the way, “we examined the suspects clothing and personal effects for trace clues as to any place she’s been recently. Her clothing itself offered limited results, aside from fairly common detritus anyone picks up during the course of a normal day. It was a little more varied than someone who worked in a contained environment would have on them, but I’m to understand she was traveling, which fits in with the levels we found on her clothes. While we will provide a full report on the traces we found, they are all ubiquitous in nature to offer limited assistance in narrowing her recent travels.”
“So you found nothing?” one of the other agents in the room said.
“No, we found quite a bit on her clothing, just none of it of note. I will point out that this is not unexpected. Most people wash their clothes on a regular basis and do not change clothes often. Unless they fell into an identifying substance we are normally limited to trace evidence. As its name would suggest, trace evidence is very scant in nature and is easily removed through normal cleaning of clothes. We tested her clothing to be thorough since there is always a chance she had not had time to change clothing or otherwise clean it while traveling. If we’d had other, possibly even dirty, clothing in suitcases that would have had a higher chance of yielding results.”
“So she was wearing clean clothes?” Taylor asked.
“Yes. We can’t say with any reasonable accuracy when these clothes were last cleaned, outside of knowing they were washed using over the counter detergents within a thirty-day window. If left packed with other clothing in a confined space such a dresser drawer or suitcase, trace amounts of the detergent and fabric softeners used to clean the clothing remain on them for up to thirty days. These get masked by new layers of detritus or otherwise removed during the normal process of wearing them, but that takes the better part of a day unless the wearer undergoes vigorous activity which would accelerate the process. The clothes she was wearing had enough traces remaining on them to tell us she had only worn them part of a day at the point where they were bagged and again put in a controlled stated that would keep them from being removed.”
“So,” Taylor said to Crawford, “we know she changed clothes and then didn’t do anything strenuous and since we found no luggage or changes of clothes on her, we know she was staying with someone else or at least had the ability to hand off luggage to someone as late as yesterday morning.”
“That still doesn’t give us a lot,” Whitaker said.
“There’s more,” The tech said. “While personal clothing like shirts, pants, and undergarments are regularly cleaned and have trace elements removed, they are not the only clothing most people wear. Shoes, jackets, and hats are also regularly worn and pick up trace elements and unlike clothing they are rarely cleaned and so usually retain multiple layers of trace evidence, allowing us to build a fairly extensive log of travels, if that person comes in contact with enough unique contaminants that can be narrowed down to a geological area.”
“She wasn’t wearing a hat or coat,” Taylor said. “I’m guessing you found something on her shoes.”
“When it comes to clothing analysis, shoes are a treasure trove. Beyond not being cleaned regularly, they, unlike other clothing, continuously come in contact with the ground and the weight of the wearer forces dirt and other substances to adhere to them. In this case, we found several layers of dirt. Some originating from eastern Tennessee and others from north west Maryland, based on levels of sediments in the dirt and traces from chemicals unique to industries in those areas.”
“We already know she’d been at the University of Tennessee and Hagerstown, Maryland where we found her,” Crawford said. “Tell me you found something more useful.”
“We did. Beetles are a varied species and are a common source of information for us. There are more than three hundred and fifty thousand unique species of beetles, most of whom have very limited habitats in specific regions. More importantly, beetles molt regularly over their life cycle, leaving behind husks that break into smaller shards and spread across their ecosystem. It is very common to find pieces of their shells and husks when looking at a soil sample.”
“And?” Taylor asked when she paused.
“The short-legged tiger beetle is unique to a very small area of the Appalachian mountains covering only a six and a half-mile area. There was a time when some researchers were concerned this species would go extinct, as their habitat was in areas rich in coal and other mine-able assets. This fear was alleviated when part of that area, along with the habitats of several other animals, was turned into a national forest preserve and protected. In this case the Highland Wildlife Management Area.”
“And she had traces of this beetle in her shoes?” Crawford asked.
“Yes, and those traces were near the top of the layers of sediment pushed into the treads of her shoes, meaning she’d been there recently. It’s impossible to precise, but our best guess is she was there within the last five days.”
“Excellent. Taylor and Whitaker, head to Quantico. I’ll have a tactical team standing by with one of their helicopters to get you out there fast. We’ve been able to track down all over her movement until three days ago, meaning whatever she was doing in West Virginia was recent. It might be nothing, but she’s getting supplies from somewhere so there’s a chance we’ve gotten ahead of Qasim this time. I’ll call ahead and have someone from Park Service who knows the area standing by to meet you and take you out there. Get a move on. I want to catch the bastards napping.”
