#0004 White Out Read online

  It was a hard call, but one that everyone in their section of PAVAD—the FBI’s Prevention & Analysis of Violent Acts Division—knew had to be made at times.

  The entire reason PAVAD had been formed was to address crimes that were more complicated than this one first appeared.

  “A favor. That’s all I know.” The deputy’s tone told them exactly how he felt about that.

  No matter. They were there; Paige was going to give this case every bit of energy she had.

  She took her first step over the threshold. And into this family’s nightmare.

  Chapter 3

  Alessandra Brockman darted a glance at her partner, checking to make certain Paige was holding up ok. This was the first time Paige had seen something like this since the night she had almost died—along with Al’s brothers, Mick and Malachi, and future sister-in-law, Jules. They had gotten very, very lucky.

  Al had found her brother Mick in the middle of the drive, bleeding into the snow.

  She’d probably always hate snow.

  Mick was better now; he’d been released from the hospital a month ago. Jules had also taken some damage, but her recovery had been quicker than Mick’s.

  It was Paige who seemed so alone now. Al wouldn’t admit it to her friend aloud—Paige would get her back up—but Al was worried.

  Still, other than being slightly paler than normal—which said a lot, as Paige was ghost white most of the time—Paige seemed ok.

  As ok as someone could be standing in the midst of a crime scene where a husband and father had lost his life.

  Al shut her worry for her friend off and focused on what had happened here.

  “He was alone. Why did his wife leave?” Al asked the sheriff’s deputy. The guy had that not-so-helpful aura around him that made her want to sigh. They had run up against locals like him before. It didn’t matter.

  They were there for the family that had been devasted. Not for the local cops who had to solve the question of who.

  “She took their son to a church youth meeting up the road about ten miles.”

  “How old is the child?”

  “Nine. Smart kid, too.”

  “How long was the wife gone?” Paige asked.

  “Twenty, twenty-five minutes. Long enough to drop Titus off. Say a few words, then return home.”

  “We’ll speak with her ourselves when we return to the precinct.” It was best not to have preconceived ideas before interviews. That way they didn’t miss anything. “We’ll just do a walk-through now.”

  Al walked through the house, trying to profile the people who lived there.

  The house was neat, not overly large, but larger than some of the neighbors. It was a rural area—there were only four houses on this old state highway. For at least a mile.

  No one would have heard much of anything.

  It was the exact opposite of her neighborhood in St. Louis. She and her brothers shared a home in a nice modern subdivision. People were everywhere in her neighborhood.

  This was a thirty-year-old home in a rural farming community of less than seven hundred people.

  She found herself in the little boy’s room, next. She didn’t touch anything. This child would want his belongings eventually. The bedroom was welcoming and fun, with boyish toys everywhere. Robotics, Legos, science kits. Science toys were everywhere. A soccer poster hung in a place of prominence on the wall. Next to a Disney poster. And one of Einstein.

  So normal. So ordinary.

  This child hadn’t deserved this nightmare.

  Chapter 4

  The wife was around forty, short, and about fifty pounds overweight. She had the sweet soccer mom appeal.

  That was exactly what she was.

  Or at least she appeared so.

  Paige had never done well with this type of woman. She’d not exactly had the soccer mom–type mother.

  She’d had the neglect-and-abuse type of mother. Not exactly something she wanted think about. “Mrs. Heathers, I’m Agent Paige Daviess; I’m here to help find out what happened to your husband.”

  The woman pulled in a deep breath and rocked slightly. Her eyes dulled. Her hands trembled where they rested clenched together on the table. “My little…he…he won’t talk. I don’t know what to say to him. How to make this right.”

  “Can you tell me what happened that night? You took Titus…” Paige started gently. There would be time to push later. Now, she just needed to establish a connection.

  Al sat silently at her side, taking notes.

  “TJ. We call him TJ. He doesn’t like Titus. TJ likes the Wednesday night activity at the church. He’s enrolled in a private online school for gifted children. So we try to make certain he has plenty of opportunities to interact with other kids in nonacademic settings. He likes the church, and the kids there accept him.”

  “So you drop him off?”

  “I usually stay with him everywhere. But he’s at that age when he doesn’t want me to do that anymore. He wants to be independent. So we take—took—turns. Wade and I. Most nights, I’d do the drop-off, but Wade did a lot, too. He’d heat up dinner. We’d watch a movie together. The program at the church lasts two hours; TJ eats there with the other kids. It was our time. Quiet time, movies that aren’t PG.” As she spoke more tears fell. Paige grabbed a box of tissues and held it out to her.

  “Go on. Tell us what happened next.”

  “I came home. I was only gone twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes. But the house was dark. It shouldn’t have been dark. Wade always meets me at the porch to help me up the stairs.”

  “Why?” There had only been four steps. Nothing major.

  “I had bone cancer as a teen. It left my left leg weak. Wade…Wade is overly protective over it. Especially in the winter. Or the rain. He hovers sometimes. Tries to take care of me. Always taking care of me. He didn’t need to. But…he did it anyway.”

  She pulled in deep breath. Paige felt the woman’s hurt. She told herself not to take everything at face value, but the woman wasn’t lying. She thought.

  Since what had happened before, she wasn’t so certain she trusted her own instincts any longer. The man who had nearly killed her had been a friend. She’d trusted him. And he’d killed thirty-something people. Hard to trust her own judgment after that.

  “He usually meets you at the steps?” Al prompted.

  Angela nodded. “Yes. Always. Especially when it’s raining. It was raining. Supposed to snow. Wade was going to pick TJ up after church because of the snow. The house was dark. The dogs didn’t bark. They should have barked. I just thought, with the rain, they didn’t hear me drive up. They’re old. They don’t always hear.”

  Paige looked at Al. The dogs in question had been found a mile up the road, six hours after the murder. Neighbors had volunteered to search for them.

  The dogs had been wet and frightened, but unhurt. One had had blood on his coat. The dogs were currently being processed and boarded.

  “Go on. What did you do next?”

  “I climbed the stairs. I went to the door. I didn’t have my house key. I gave it to my mother three weeks ago when we went away for the week. I didn’t know why the door was locked. I was only gone twenty minutes.” She pulled in a sobbing breath. The shaking was going to tear her apart. But she held on. Kept going. She suddenly looked up. Her brown eyes met Paige’s. “I couldn’t get in. And I knew something had to be wrong. I pounded on the door, and I yelled. The dogs didn’t bark. Wade didn’t come. I knew…I knew…”

  She panted, then leaned over the table. Her arms dropped to her stomach, and she rocked. Paige didn’t push. Angela finally looked up, a resolved expression in her eyes. She was still crying. “I knew something was wrong inside. I went around to the back of the house. The back deck. And I looked in. I had opened the curtains to let in light that afternoon. I always do when it’s overcast. I saw Wade’s feet. And I saw the blood.”

  Paige j
ust sat there and listened.

  Chapter 5

  Al was tasked with tacking up the photos of the crime scenes. She arranged them from front door to body. The scene was just as Angela Heathers had stated.

  The victim’s wife had seen her husband inside their home. To get to him, she’d picked up a wooden chair from her back deck and slammed it into the sliding glass door. She’d knocked the glass out of the way and run to her husband’s side.

  It had been too late.

  He was already gone. In less than half an hour, her world had changed.

  Initially, the county deputies had assumed it was the victim’s blood on the glass door. But Al suspected it was Angela’s. She’d had cuts on her forearms and hands.

  They were waiting on DNA results from St. Louis to prove it. Al believed her, but it would be at least three days before thorough DNA results could be obtained. And that was if they got lucky and the lab wasn’t backed up.

  Her story had held up under repeated questioning. After she’d broken in to her home, she’d rushed to her husband’s side.

  She’d held him, though he was already dead. His blood had transferred to her clothing. That clothing was now at the PAVAD lab. It was just a matter of time before they had results.

  In the meantime, they had to work out the timeline.

  She and Paige had driven from the Heathers’ home to the church where the son had been picked up by local deputies after his father’s murder four times. They’d recorded the time each trip had taken. Then averaged it out.

  Angela Heathers had most likely been telling the truth. There were eyewitnesses. Neighbors had passed her on the drive home. She’d called 911 less than seven minutes later.

  Her husband had most likely already been dead.

  There had been only very faint traces of gunshot residue on her clothes and skin—most likely from transfer when she’d touched her husband after finding him.

  Al’s gut was telling her they weren’t dealing with a domestic dispute made worse. Even though the county deputy in charge seemed to be pushing it. Pushing it hard.

  There was more there. She had no doubt about it.

  Chapter 6

  Paige set up the web conference with the forensics supervisor. Ally was a friend and married to Paige’s landlord. “Hey, Ally. Do you have anything yet?”

  “A few things. First, your murder weapon. A Smith & Wesson M&P.” Ally gave a few more specifics about the weapon. Paige made notes on the legal pad in front of her. “I’ve spoken with Mia Ripley. Mr. Heathers was killed with two shots to the front of the chest. Two other wounds were superficial. The blood on Mrs. Heathers’s clothing was transfer. Simple transfer. We did find DNA from her on his body and on the glass that was sent to us. Strictly preliminary results and won’t hold up in court, but it’s enough you can work with. I’ll have you official results once we run the quality control tests. You know the process.”

  Paige did. There were procedures that had to be followed, and then every test had to be quality control tested and authenticated at least two more times. It was going to be a minimum of sixty hours—with the lab running twenty-four hours—before they had a definitive DNA profile.

  It wasn’t like it was on television. There were no commercial breaks and then a DNA profile just popped up.

  “Does that corroborate her story?”

  “I believe it does. The glass shows signs of being broken from the outside. The clothing she wore shows where the glass snagged the fibers as she passed through. The photos of the cuts on her arms were consistent.”

  And combined with the time factor the woman most likely wouldn’t have had time to commit the murder. It was just too tight of a window between her dropping off TJ, passing a neighbor on the road, and then calling 911.

  “Thanks, Ally. Send over copies of everything?”

  “As soon as we get it. And by the way, Cletus ate my purple shoes.”

  Paige winced. “Sorry. I’ll buy you new ones.”

  “Don’t worry about it. My son was supposed to be watching him and wasn’t. He’s responsible. Not Cletus. We’re watching him, in case we need to take him to the vet.” Ally waved, then disconnected before Paige could protest.

  Al came in to the small conference room, just as Paige was signing off. She flopped down into the nearest chair. “Deputy Carroll’s a real piece of work. He is convinced it was Angela. And he’s telling everyone that.”

  “It wasn’t.” Paige relayed the results of preliminary forensics quickly. “It was someone else. Now we need to find motive.”

  “Back to the wife. This time…you think Seb could distract Deputy Carroll?”

  Their team leader would be the perfect man for the task. Seb had a way of dealing with locals that Paige just didn’t. It wasn’t a skill she was really interested in developing. Especially with a man like Deputy Carroll. “Probably.”

  “Then let’s get him on it while you and I interview Angela.”

  It wasn’t exactly Al’s call to make, but Seb tended to listen to the two of them when they had theories. And he was busy fielding local news questions and coordinating with Kentucky State Police.

  Paige had no clue why PAVAD had been called in. This was the type of case that could easily be handled by the KSP. There had to be more at play than what was on the surface.

  Chapter 7

  It took some maneuvering to get Sebastian, Paige’s brother-in-law and leader of Team Three, away from the deputy. Carroll’s boss was off with an emergency appendectomy. Carroll was running the show.

  And he didn’t want them there.

  He’d told Paige that the instant he’d caught her alone at the vending machine.

  It was just Paige, Al, and their teammate Jaz he seemed to have a problem with. Probably because they didn’t have penises.

  She’d seen it all before. Some members of law enforcement still had problems with girls in the boys’ clubs. Especially in more rural areas.

  The number of female officers, detectives, and deputies—and even sheriffs—were growing. More in some areas than others. Apparently, this small corner of Kentucky hadn’t quite caught up with the times.

  It took twenty minutes for the two of them to get back in with Angela Heathers. Paige patted the woman on the shoulder. “Have you eaten?”

  Angela shook her head. “Every time I try, I want to vomit.”

  “Have you called, checked on TJ?”

  She nodded. “He’s with my mother. I…Wade’s mother wanted him right now, but…TJ doesn’t know her well. And Wade didn’t want her having a big influence in his life.”

  Paige filed that information away. In this job, any piece of information could be the one that changed everything. “How is he doing?”

  The woman crumbled. “He’s devastated. They were close.”

  “Angela, we need to figure out who had a motive to kill Wade. Can you think of anyone who he may have argued with lately?”

  Angela shook her head. “No. We work from home. He’s an accountant. He has an office in the garage. My office is in the back room. I work on digital illustrations. It’s busy season for accountants, now. He would have told me if a client had a major problem. I handle his appointment calendar and clerical work.”

  Paige nodded. “Anyone else? Family or a friend maybe?”

  One look at the woman’s face told her that Angela Heathers didn’t have a clue who would want to kill her husband.

  Chapter 8

  “We need to find motive. So who had motive to kill an accountant who was just sitting down to watch a superhero movie with his wife?” Al knew it usually boiled down to the stock means, motive, and opportunity. They just needed to connect the dots. She resisted the urge to dart a look at Paige.

  Paige looked pale—again. Worse than she had the evening before. Well, late evening/early morning. It had been nearly two before Seb had sent the two of them back to the hotel. Jaz and Saul had gone hours earlier,
but had returned by five a.m.

  No one had forgotten that there was a killer in a town of eight hundred. Anyone could be targeted next.

  Al didn’t think it was a serial killer, just based on percentages alone—less than one percent of all murders were the work of serial killers, and with a population so miniscule, the odds of one starting now were pretty slim. Those odds got even smaller when they factored in the FBI already on the scene making it extremely unlikely the guy struck again.

  Unless the motivation he had was exceptionally strong.

  Or he’d suffered some sort of psychotic incident. But she didn’t think that was the case—those in the midst of a break tended to be more disorganized. And more frequent killers.

  Forensics had found very little to connect to the killer at all.

  Chances were good this entire case was going to come down to profiling and good, old-fashioned legwork.

  Carroll had been wrong. Wade’s family was within this county, they just lived the next town over. If it could even be called a town—it had half as many people as Dover Springs.

  Al made a note—first, someone would have to ask Carroll why he’d lied. Nugent, the team’s computer guru, had told her that Carroll and Wade’s family were well acquainted.

  Perhaps that was it.

  Al came out of the conference room, where she’d spread out her files. She needed Sebastian’s profiling input. And an excuse to get away from Carroll before she started interrogating him.

  They’d deal with Carroll later. Right now, they just didn’t have time.

  She turned a corner and stepped into the bullpen.

  And came face-to-face with a blue-eyed behemoth right in the center of everything.