“Well, what is it?” Rachel asked. She was starting to get a bit annoyed with the woman’s reluctance.

  “About two or three years ago, there was apparently a guy that worked here that got into a lot of trouble. Lile serious legal trouble. He came from a banking background and, from what I understand, was sort of a player. He got caught cheating with two clients and his wife lost her mind. From what I understand, they got into a fight over his cheating and it ended with him killing her. It was an accident, I think. I guess it had to be because he ended up being found not guilty.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Jack asked.

  “The base of the story, yes. I Googled it to make sure the other workers here weren’t just pulling my leg. Yes…he killed his wife in some sort of fight that happened because of his cheating. But that’s all I know for sure.”

  Rachel’s head was spinning. It was information they would have been able to find in less than ten minutes with access to a police database. But to know the information had been right there, as common and as easily accessible as office gossip, was maddening.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Devon Murphy.”

  “Do you know if he still lives around here?”

  “No, I don’t. Sorry.”

  Rachel nodded, already turning back for the door. They had a name, a crime, and a previous employer. It would be easy enough to find out on their own.

  “Thank you again,” Rachel said, pushing the door open.

  “Wait, I don’t understand,” the woman said. “Is our company in some kind of trouble? What the hell is going on?”

  Without thinking it through, Rachel sighed and said, “Watch the news in the next couple of days and you’ll probably find out.”

  And with that, she dug her phone out of her pocket as she hurried to the car, pulling up the number to the Alexandria PD to request a background check on Devon Murphy, a former employee of Williams and Meyers.

  ***

  “Well, that was easy,” the man on the other end of the phone said. He’d introduced himself to Rachel as Officer Hamlett less than two minutes ago when she placed the call to the station.

  “What have you got?” Rachel asked. She was once again in the passenger seat of the car, Jack driving in the general direction of the police department because they had no true destination in mind just yet.

  “Devon Murphy was charged with involuntary manslaughter of his wife just a bit over two years ago,” Hamlett said. “The details of the report state that the two had engaged in a heated argument that escalated into a physical altercation. According to Murphy’s testimony, he was rushing downstairs, trying to get away from her, heading for the back door so he could get in his car and leave. But she gave chase, yelling at him and when he turned around to confront her, she came to a skidding halt. Apparently, she tripped over her own feet and fell down the stairs.”

  “Sounds…thin.”

  “It does. Honestly, I’m not sure how he got off. According to what I’m looking at here, there simply wasn’t enough evidence to convict. A series of text messages from his wife in the hours leading up to the argument included threats to castrate and kill him. I’d guess those might have had a lot to do with the conviction.”

  “How about a quick records search? Can you tell me if he’s still living locally?”

  “I can. Give me a few minutes, would you?”

  “Sure thing,” Rachel said as another thought came to her. “Can you call me back the moment you have it?”

  “Will do.”

  Rachel ended the call and looked over at Jack. “Even if he looks like a suspect, the fact remains that he’d need access to the Williams and Meyers network…or at least still be friendly with someone that works there if he’s getting access to their records. If he hasn’t worked there for two years, how’s he getting the information on projects they’re landing?”

  “It’s a good question. I wonder if our friend at Williams and Meyers might know the answer to that.”

  Rachel nodded, realizing they didn’t have the number to the offices. She Googled it and placed the call, muttering under her breath: “At this point, we may as well put this woman on bureau payroll.”

  The phone was answered on the third ring, and Rachel recognized the woman’s voice right away as she said, “Williams and Meyers Property Management. This is Amy. How can I help you?”

  “Amy, this is Agent Rachel Gift. Believe me when I say that I am very sorry for the continued disturbances. But we do have one more question. And if you can’t answer it for us, I need you to direct us to someone who can.”

  “Okay. What do you need?”

  “Is there a records database or network of some kind the agents use there?”

  “Sort of. It’s more like a shared list of property listings that gets updated every few days. It’s pretty simple and basic.”

  “And everyone has access to it?”

  “Yes.”

  “So I assume Devon Murphy would have had access to it when he was an employee, right?”

  “Yes, I’d assume so.”

  “And is there any way you can find out when he was last logged on?”

  “Yes, there is. But his account isn’t active. Whenever someone leaves the agency, they’re taken off of the network.”

  “The entire agency network, or do they just lose access to the page?”

  “Ah…you know, I don’t know. Hold on, let me see something…”

  Rachel heard the clacking of keys in the background. After about thirty seconds, Amy’s voice spoke softly on the other line. “That’s…weird.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, I don’t have the ability to see the names of people that no longer have access. But he is listed as a former moderator for the listings. And when I click on his name, it seems like he has been going into the listings recently.”

  “How recently?”

  “As recent as…yesterday? No, that can’t be right…”

  “Why would he still have access after the way in which he left the company? Being nearly convicted of murder and all?”

  “I have no idea. I assume if he was a moderator, he had page privileges that he can still use and exploit?”

  “Maybe,” Rachel said. It certainly did seem strange. She wasn’t sure how something like that went unnoticed but the actions of Murphy seemed shady at best. “This helps a lot, Amy. Thanks again.”

  Rachel ended the call and looked over to Jack. “What do you make of that?”

  “I think if a man that used to work for a real estate company that deals primary in land management still had access to a system like that, he could sort of spy for other agencies. For a cost, maybe keep an eye on Williams and Meyers to let competing agencies know what they’re up to and what properties and land they’re looking at.” He shrugged and added, “And I also think it does highlight this Murphy guy as a potential suspect. He’d know where all of the new lots are and maybe even at what stage of development they’re in.”

  “And if he can—,” Rachel started, but then her phone rang. She answered it right away, pleased to hear Officer Hamlett’s voice on the other end.

  “I’ve got an address for you. He doesn’t live in the city exactly, but a little town about ten miles outside of Alexandria. You ready for the address?”

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  She took down yet another address and as she recited it out loud to make sure she remembered it when typing it into her phone, she started to understand just how quickly the day was getting away from them. But at least now they had another suspect, a potential lead that could hopefully bring the day, and this miserable case, to an end.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  The town of Crescent wasn’t really a town at all—not that Rachel could tell anyway. It seemed to be just a smaller offshoot of Alexandria, a collection of fast-food restaurants, small businesses, and a few empty car lots. It was also loaded down with small neighborhoods that all seemed to be knotted around one another. There were hardly any lawns, just plots of land that had been set aside for identical housing.

  Devon Murphy lived in one of these neighborhoods, down a small street that looked like it had been ripped right out of a movie or TV show with a typical American family as its center. A Tesla was parked in front of his house, which was bordered along the front with well-manicured hedges. When Jack parked behind the Tesla, Rachel could feel the tension coming off of him. She’d felt it broiling up within herself, too. For her, it had started the moment she’d seen the hole in the bathroom wall at Emily Draven’s house. And now she felt it pushing her like some bizarre electrical current as she and Jack made their way to Devon Murphy’s front door.

  Jack knocked on the door and then cast a glance toward her. It was an almost watchful glance, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was one of worry. Whenever he looked at her now, she wondered if he was thinking about the tumor. Or the kiss they’d shared. She almost grinned at the thought, at the complete opposites.

  Jack was about to raise his hand to knock again but a voice from inside stopped him. “Yeah, I’m coming. Hold on!”

  Seconds later, the door was answered by a man that looked to be in his late forties or early fifties. He had the sort of gray hair that made him look a bit rugged, and black-rimmed eyeglasses that made it hard to pinpoint his age. He was also wearing a small Bluetooth earpiece. He frowned at them when he saw them. A Ring doorbell was installed by his door, so Rachel assumed he’d seen them on his phone or a computer somewhere in the house. But now that he was standing there in front of them, it was clear he had no idea who they were or why they were there.

  “Yeah?” was all he said.

  “Are you Devon Murphy?” Rachel asked.

  “Yeah, I am. And who are you?”

  Rachel beat Jack to the punch this time, showing her badge and ID first. “We’re agents Gift and Rivers with the FBI, and we need to ask you a few questions.”

  Murphy studied the ID for much longer than was necessary. When he finally looked back up at them, there was something like annoyance in his eyes…maybe even disappointment. “Questions about what?” he asked, in a tone that suggested he might already know.

  “Can we come in?” Jack asked.

  Murphy considered it for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah,” he said, clearly annoyed. “Come on in.”

  He stepped aside and allowed them through the door. The front door led into a small foyer, which then opened up into a large living area. Off in the corner, nestled in a small U-shaped space that looked almost like a reading nook, there was a built-in desk with a laptop and desktop monitor. Somewhere in the house, ‘80s pop music was playing softly.

  “Mr. Murphy, do you have any guesses why we might be here?” Jack asked.

  Rachel noticed that he was making a point to stay within ten feet of Devon Murphy at all times. He seemed tense, as if he sensed Murphy might act erratically at any moment.

  “Oh, I can take a guess. But it’s been a while since the police came to question me. Maybe like eight months or so? Even after the damned case was closed and the news around Alexandria had died down. Why the FBI would be digging into a murder case that I was not convicted of is beyond me, but…whatever. Here we are.”

  “Actually,” Rachel said, “that’s not why we’re here—though it does play into it a bit, I suppose. You formerly worked for Williams and Meyers Property Management, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “You worked there until everything happened with your wife’s murder case?”

  “Yeah. Once management learned that there was going to be a proper investigation, they released me.”

  “Was there any grief or tension there?”

  “Of course there was,” Murphy said. He’d made his way over to the desk, sitting down at the monitors. The chair was the kind that rolled and swiveled, though, allowing him to turn and face them. “I’d worked there for four years and landed some of the projects that evolved them from a fledgling agency to…well, not a major player, but at least a contender. So I raised a bit of hell, trying to keep my job.” He eyed them suspiciously and said, “I don’t get it. What does this have to do with anything?”

  “When you worked there,” Jack asked, ignoring the question, “you had admin privileges to the listings, right? The network or page you all used to keep track to new potential projects?”

  “Yes…”

  Rachel saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. He did not like where the conversation was headed at all.

  “Have you used that resource since you left Williams and Meyers?” Rachel asked.

  Devon Murphy didn’t answer right away. He sighed and reclined back in the seat a bit. Rachel couldn’t decide if he was searching for an excuse or just refusing to answer the question outright.

  “Mr. Murphy?”

  He shook his head and laughed nervously. “I…well, I don’t know why the FBI would get involved in this.”

  “In what, exactly?”

  “Oh, you’re going to make me say it, are you?”

  “Well, you can say it, or we can tell you why we’ve come to question you. It’s your call…and one will be seen as being much more cooperative in the long run.”

  “About three months after the case was over, I was still pissed at management over at Williams and Meyers. So I hired this kid, this hacker guy, to allow me to get access back into the network. That didn’t really work out because I’d get booted every single time, but he did manage to get it so that I could get into the listings…which was easy, as I’d had admin privileges once. So I made a point…maybe once a month…to log on, see what they were up to and what offers they were making. I’d then turn this information over to two different competitors for a fee.”

  “How many times did this actually work out?”

  “Nine. And if I’m being honest…I guess I may as well if you’re here and know the deal…I’m working on ten right now.”

  As Rachel saw the strange sort of relief come over his face, she understood that Murphy thought it was over. He thought these shady dealings were why they’d come to question him. She could see the slight confusion on Jack’s face as well as he also came to understand this.

  “Mr. Murphy,” Rachel said, “have you had any dealings with the properties at the hospital or where they are going to reconstruct a building into an old folks’ home?”

  “Dealings? No. But the hospital was one of the properties I tried to snatch out from under them. It didn’t work out. They broke ground on it a few weeks ago.”

  “We know. And we need to know right now if you have ever physically been to any of those sites. Any of them…even ones that you tried stealing away from them months ago.”

  “No. That would be pretty stupid, now wouldn’t it?”

  “It would,” Jack said.

  “Now let me tell you why we’re here, Mr. Murphy,” Rachel said. “We’re currently investigating three deaths. Each body was discovered buried at a site that Williams and Meyers are currently about to build on. We’ve questioned everyone involved with the construction crew for each site and right now, we have local police questioning anyone working with Williams and Meyers.”

  “Bodies? Like, murder victims at the sites?”

  “Yes.”

  It took a few moments, but realization slowly dawned on Murphy’s face. “Wait…and you’re here because you think I had something to do with it?”

  He stood up from his chair in frustration and shock. Jack moved instantly, just one step forward, his hand going in the direction of his holstered Glock.

  “Put the pieces together,” Jack said. “Look at your criminal record. Look at your ties to the agency that managed to buy the three sites currently in question. You have to—”

  “I have to nothing!” Murphy roared. He turned and kicked over his desk chair. “I went through that trial and the headlines and the death threats from her family members. I didn’t kill my wife and I’m tired of proving it!”

  “Well, then, it’s a good thing we’re not here to take you in for the murder of your wife.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone, dammit! This is insane.”

  “I need you to calm down, Mr. Murphy,” Jack said.

  But even Rachel could see that the lights had gone out in Devon Murphy’s eyes. He was overcome with anger, an anger that he was unable to take control of as he took one large, threatening step toward Jack and put his finger in Jack’s face. “You can’t come into my house,” he said, angling his face so close to Jack’s that their noses nearly touched, “and tell me how to feel when you bring up this bullshit about my wife.”

  Murphy finished off his outburst with a shove. To his credit, Rachel could see him realizing the error of it at the very last minute. He seemed to attempt to stop himself, the force of the shove decreasing drastically before his hands struck Jack.

  Rachel could almost see what Jack was about to do. She sensed it in his posture and in the hard, rigid lines of his face. He moved lightning quick, grabbing Murphy by the arm, and spinning him around; before Murphy had any real idea of what was going on, Jack had pulled both of the man’s arms slightly behind his back and produced a set of handcuffs as if by magic.

  “What…what the hell?” Murphy bellowed.

  “You’re not quite under arrest,” Jack said, “but you are coming with us.”

  “I’ll sue you!” Murphy screamed—the last threat of a guilty man with nothing left to use.

  Jack kept his mouth shut as he escorted Devon Murphy to the door, with Rachel following behind. As she closed the man’s front door and listened to his continued complaints, she did her best to focus on his threatening comments…and not the building, aching pressure starting to rumble near the center of her head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  By the time they reached the police department, it was 5:17 and the pain in Rachel’s head had stopped escalating. It had a found a nice, uncomfortable sort of drone, just a bit beyond an ice-cream headache, that simply camped out. It was minor enough so that she could look past it when she and Jack hauled Devon Murphy into the building. Because Rachel had called Chief Hunt on the way over, he was already there and waiting. When he saw them coming, he waved them on to follow him. They did, escorting Murphy down a hallway on the western edge of the building. Just about every head in the place turned in their direction, murmuring and talking excitedly.

 

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