Breath Of Malice Part 12

Sam ordered food, which neither he nor Paige touched. The food sat on his desk, uneaten, growing cold.

He focused on a crime scene photo of Janet Lambert lying peacefully on her side. Anger that her life had been struck down at the whim of another filled him. Why Janet Lambert, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d?

Lying on her side as she had been, it was no wonder that Holt had thought she was asleep. Sam recalled how the crime scene looked staged. Just as Thames's known crime scenes had been. How could Sam use that to catch him?

Sam pressed keys on his laptop, calling up images of Thames's three known victims. Sam had read the case files so many times he could recite the information verbatim. The bodies had turned up at various locations, one in a shopping mall parking lot, another lying in the sand on a popular beach, the third outside a theater. Paige had told Sam that she believed Thames had wanted those bodies to be found, had wanted to be in the spotlight.

Sam shuffled through papers on his desk. Janet Lambert was nothing like any of Thames's victims. Her age, body type, even her hair color-it was all different. But her killer had also wanted her body found.

So far, Sam couldn't find a connection between Janet Lambert and Thames, or Glaxton and Thames. Harry and Dom had worked the angle that Thames could have had a grudge against Glaxton, but Thames was not a revenge killer. His profile showed he killed for pleasure and nothing more.

Sam looked back over what had drawn the Bureau to Thames in the first place. An anonymous tip. Someone had called in and named Thames as the killer. Law enforcement had not been able to trace the caller. Paige believed the caller was Thames himself.

But if Thames had killed Janet Lambert, why alter his MO? Was he afraid of being caught now that his conviction had been overturned? No. That wasn't Thames. He was a c.o.c.ky, arrogant b.a.s.t.a.r.d who thumbed his nose at law enforcement. He would throw it in law enforcement's face that it was him, and there was nothing the Bureau could do about it. He'd done that before. Sam continued to play that over in his mind, continued to eliminate possibilities.

"Sam, we have one."

Paige's voice broke into Sam's thoughts.

Paige tapped the computer screen. "Mary Emerson. She lives in Connecticut and visited Thames weekly."

"For how long?"

"Since his arrest."

Sam left his desk and bent over Paige's shoulder, peering at the screen with her. A photo of Mary Emerson appeared along with her pertinent biographical information. Emerson's eyes were downcast. Her brown hair hung like string to the collar of a severe brown turtleneck.

"Of all of these women, there were three who went to see him most. Emerson was the most regular visitor." Paige went on.

Sam studied the photo. "Other than the brown hair, Emerson doesn't look like Thames's type."

"No. His victims were all in their twenties. Emerson is forty-five. But according to the prison records, all three women who visited him also wrote letters to Thames and sent care packages, but Emerson is the only one Thames wrote back."

Sam struck a couple of computer keys. "Here's Emerson on the courthouse steps in the background. Looks like Thames didn't bring her into the camera shot with him."

"He'd probably prefer for her to remain in the background."

"Here's another shot of him getting into a car with his lawyer." Sam read the name. "Willman." Sam paused. "That's all there is. Once Thames and his lawyer made statements to the press and left, the cameras turned off. If Emerson wasn't Thames's type, then why was he with her?" Sam scrolled through photos of the other women who'd visited Thames. "These two are younger brunettes, yet Thames became more involved with Emerson. Let's find out all we can about her."

Sam put in a call to the central office and spoke with one of the tech a.n.a.lysts there. He requested background checks on all three women.

Not long after, Paige went over the information on Emerson. "Age forty-five," Paige repeated. "One sibling, a married sister who also lives in Connecticut. Emerson herself has never been married. Doesn't have children and works as an accountant for a small import/export firm."

"Nothing remarkable there," Sam said. "But there has to be something more."

"Thames would get off on the hero wors.h.i.+p."

"Yeah, but he was getting that from the other two women, who were more his taste physically." Sam studied the profiles on the other women. "Tammy Sh.o.r.e works in a health and fitness spa. Crystal Benedict is a dance instructor. Both divorced. No children. Both have siblings. Again, nothing remarkable here. I'm looking for some reason that Thames chose Emerson as his pen pal over one of these other two women." Sam shook his head. "We need to find out what set Emerson apart from the others. I'm going to catch the next flight to Connecticut and speak with her."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

As soon as Sam landed in Connecticut the next afternoon, he checked in with the Bureau office. An agent had been parked on the street where Mary Emerson's house was since Sam requested surveillance. Sam didn't have a viable connection between Thames and Emerson and had kept the reason for his request vague.

At the office, Sam received an update that Emerson's car was parked in the driveway. The agent, Traynor, had been instructed to watch the place but not to approach until Sam got there. Sam caught a ride with another agent, Monroe. Monroe parked behind the government-issue sedan surveying the Emerson house.

Sam and Monroe left the vehicle. Traynor left his vehicle as well, and Monroe made the introductions.

"Appreciate the help," Sam said. As Sam shook Traynor's hand, he asked, "Any movement?"

"Negative. The car's in the same spot since I got here. No one's been in or out of the house."

It was a Thursday afternoon. Was it typical of Emerson not to go into work on Thursdays? Sam faced Traynor. "Any sign of Emerson moving around in there?"

Traynor gave a quick headshake, then smoothed down his thick mustache. "Whatever she's doing in there, she's doing it quietly, and with those thick curtains on all the windows, it's impossible to see inside."

"Okay," Sam said. "Let's go talk with her."

Sam squinted in the bright sunlight. He waited for a car to drive by, then crossed the street to Mary Emerson's tidy bungalow. He hoped that the person who would answer his knock would be Thames himself. Sam had nothing to bring Thames in, but having learned how Thames tormented Paige, it would take all he had in him to keep from killing that son of a b.i.t.c.h on sight.

The other two agents joined Sam at the front door. He rang the doorbell and followed up with a hard knock before the chime ended.

Nothing. Sam knocked again, then leaned on the doorbell b.u.t.ton. He wasn't going to leave without speaking with Emerson.

A house key peeked from beneath a welcome mat. There was a small window in the door. Like every other window Sam could see, this one was covered with a thick curtain. Sam couldn't see s.h.i.+t through the impenetrable fabric but, knowing that a person in jeopardy was cause to enter a house, said, "I think I see someone lying on the hall floor. I'm going in."

The other agents didn't comment. Sam expected they would wait outside, given his excuse for going in, but they backed him up. Sam used the key, then drew his weapon. There was no one lying on the pristine tile in the hall.

Sam called out, "Ms. Emerson. Federal agents!"

The house was as neat inside as it was out. Mary Emerson was fond of embroidery, and the walls were decorated with framed works of flowers and birds. As Sam led the way deeper into the house, he glimpsed an old-fas.h.i.+oned answering machine on a small table. The number on the screen showed zero messages.

Sam turned a corner and came to the kitchen. A cat lay blinking on its side next to a water bowl and an empty food bowl. The water bowl held about an inch of water. It looked like the animal hadn't been fed in some time. Sam's senses went on high alert.

"Think she just took off and left the cat?" Traynor asked.

Sam's shoulders tensed. "No. I'm going to take a look around." Sam wondered if he was going to find Mary Emerson dead somewhere inside her house.

Mary wasn't in the house, but the search showed clothing on every hanger in the closet. She wasn't away on a trip.

Back in the hall, Monroe said, "Look at this."

Sam turned. The man was pointing to a woman's handbag on the floor in the hall closet. Monroe bent down, then opened the purse. A wallet was inside.

"I don't know about you two," Monroe said, "but I've been married fifteen years, and I've never seen my wife leave the house without her purse."

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. Though they hadn't found a body here, Sam had a bad feeling about Mary Emerson.

Back in the kitchen, Sam bent over the cat. The animal was lethargic but licked Sam's wrist. Monroe found food in the cupboard and poured fresh water in one bowl. The animal fell on the food and water with gusto.

As Sam watched the cat eat and drink, he said, "Mary Emerson has a sister. I need to talk with her."

"Sure thing," Monroe said.

Traynor left to return to his office. After the cat finished its meal, Sam scooped up the feline. Monroe locked the front door, and they were on their way.

Emerson's sister didn't live far from Emerson. Monroe waited in the car while Sam went to the front door of a small two-story house. A wind chime dangled from the unlit porch light and tinkled softly in the light breeze.

A woman dressed in athletic shorts and a T-s.h.i.+rt that was stained with perspiration answered his knock. Her face and hairline glistened with sweat. She was panting slightly. It was clear she'd been exercising.

Sam showed his ID. "I'm Agent Sam McKade with the FBI. I'm looking for Carol Franks."

The woman wiped the back of her hand against her glistening upper lip. "I'm Carol."

"Mrs. Franks. I'd like to speak with you. May I come in?"

The woman looked from Sam's badge to the cat tucked under Sam's arm. "Sir Lancelot?" She looked up at Sam. "What are you doing with him?"

Mrs. Franks reached out, and Sam released the cat to her. "I'll explain. May I come in?"

The woman nodded and stepped back from the door. She ushered Sam into a living room painted a sunny yellow, then perched on the end of a multicolored couch.

Sam took the matching chair opposite the couch. "I'm looking for your sister. Is she here?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"I just came from your sister's house. It appeared that Sir Lancelot had been on his own for some time there, judging from his empty food bowl."

Mrs. Franks shook her head, and her dark-brown hair coiled into a bun bounced. "That can't be right. My sister loves Sir Lancelot. She would never neglect him."

"When was the last time you spoke with your sister?"

Mrs. Franks set the cat on the floor. "It's been a week."

"Is there anyone she could be staying with, any friends she may have gone to visit?"

But Mrs. Franks was already shaking her head. "No one. Mary doesn't have anyone she's that close to."

"What do you know of her relations.h.i.+p with Todd Thames?"

Mrs. Franks's face blanched. "Do you think he's done something to her?"

Sam gave her the truth. "I'm hoping you can help me find out."

Mrs. Franks sagged on the sofa as if she were a puppet whose strings had been cut. "Oh, no, no, no. I'll tell you anything I can to find my sister. I told her to stay away from him, but she wouldn't. She insisted that he had been wronged." Mrs. Franks put both hands to her now chalk-white cheeks. "She said he made her feel special." The woman shook her head. "My sister never had that, never had a man dote on her the way she said Todd did."

Sam's lips firmed. "Did she tell you anything about their relations.h.i.+p?"

"She wasn't supposed to. Todd wanted her to keep things between them under wraps. She told me he didn't want her to be touched by the negative publicity that surrounded him. That Todd was protecting her."

Sam's jaw tightened. Yeah, that's exactly what Thames was doing. "Did you believe that?"

"I don't know. I wanted to, but I didn't like anything about the situation. Mary was in love. For the first time in her life, she was happy. I want her to be happy. I hoped that she was right about Todd."

"Mrs. Franks, we need to find your sister. She may be in danger. I need to know all you know."

Her face crumpled. "Mary was desperate to please him. My sister wanted to be his champion, his savior, and she contacted human rights activists to band together and take up Todd's cause. Todd told Mary that he didn't have any family of his own and said that he wanted a family one day, a wife, kids, the whole deal. Mary wanted that for herself as well. She said that Todd had been wrongfully convicted and his lawyer was working to have the conviction against him overturned, and when it was, they'd be together." She swallowed and began to run her hand across an orange cus.h.i.+on in a vigorous motion. "Mary went to the prison to visit him as often as the prison allowed, but she didn't always get in. There were two other women who scheduled visits. Younger women Mary felt were more attractive than she was. Mary was afraid that Todd would lose interest in her and choose one of them." Mrs. Franks let out a shaky breath. "Todd asked her about her family. She showed him photographs of me, my husband, and our three kids. I didn't like it, but he was in prison, on death row, so I didn't see the harm. She told Todd stories about my kids and other things, including what my husband and I do for a living. My husband is a car salesman. I work for the IRS."

Sam leaned forward. "When did she tell him this?"

"I don't remember exactly, but it was last year."

"Who has access to your IRS log-in information, Mrs. Franks?"

"No one." She shook her head back and forth. "I mean, I keep a list of my pa.s.swords in the desk in our den. We have so many nowadays, I can never remember them all."

Sam eyed Mrs. Franks. "Does your sister know about that list?"

Mrs. Franks nodded. "Mary does the same thing."

Sam had no warrant, but he forged ahead anyway. "I need you to call up your search history from the past year, eliminate the searches in your log, and tell me the names that remain."

Sam held her gaze. Mrs. Franks left the room briefly and returned with her laptop. A silence ensued. Sam sat as tense as Mrs. Franks.

Some time later, the woman looked up from her laptop. "Searches on two names that I didn't conduct."

"What are the names?" Sam asked.

"Paige Carson."

Sam's fist clenched. Son of a b.i.t.c.h. That was how Thames was tracking Paige. "And the second one?" Sam was afraid he already knew.

"Janet Glaxton Lambert."

There it was. Thames had Lambert on his radar as well. Sam noted the dates of the searches as well. None of this information would nail Thames. The searches would appear under Mrs. Franks's pa.s.sword. There was nothing to tie Thames to them.

Mrs. Franks put her head in her hands. "I haven't talked to Mary in a week. He could have done anything to her."

Thames had gotten what he wanted from Mary Emerson. Sam believed Thames was cleaning house and that he had eliminated Emerson, a loose end, so she would not be found alive.

Mrs. Franks brought the cus.h.i.+on she'd been rubbing to her face and began to weep into it. The front door opened. A man dressed in khaki slacks and a navy blazer entered.