### Contents

  1. Other Books
  2. Author's Note
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Chapter One - New Year's Eve
  6. Chapter Two - New Year's Day
  7. Chapter Three - Back in the Office
  8. Chapter Four - Jennings and White
  9. Chapter Five - Muldoon and White
  10. Chapter Six - Guilt, Regrets, and Remorse
  11. Chapter Seven - Morrison and White
  12. Chapter Eight - The Best Laid Plans
  13. Chapter Nine - Think Tank
  14. Chapter Ten - Connecting the Dots
  15. Chapter Eleven - The Unthinkable
  16. Chapter Twelve - All is Well that Ends Badly
  17. Chapter Thirteen - E-Book
    1. About the Author

## Guide

  1. Contents
  2. Start of Content

**Adriel Chevalier Book Series**

False Antichrist - 2016

The Gold of Ophir - 2018

Noah's Portal - 2019

Zanzibar - 2020

The Precinct Murders - 2020

Where the Chips Fell - 2020
**To the Reader**

My thanks to Erin Muldoon for narrating this book. Much of what occurred happened in my absence, and Erin was kind enough to share her notes and memories with me in order to relate the events as they unfolded. It is often difficult for me to edit the manuscript because much of what I find entertaining may not interest others. It's a matter of perspective, and experiencing the events firsthand gives one a very different appreciation of some of the amusing things that happened. However, due to the serious nature of these events, I have kept the levity to a minimum.

Although much of what is contained herein pertains to true experiences, I am not at liberty to disclose anyone's identity. The names and locations have been altered, and any similarities to persons living or dead are merely a coincidence.

Love always to each of you,

Adriel

THE PRECINCT MURDERS

Adriel Jacques Chevalier

Copyright © 2020 Adriel Jacques Chevalier

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 9780463492239

## CHAPTER ONE

### _New Year's Eve_

DETECTIVE MORRISON SAT at the bar sipping his Irish Whiskey as he awaited his friend and colleague. He heard the front door open and saw the snow blow in as Officer O'Toole scooted through the doorway trying to keep the cold, white flakes from hitting some of the patrons who sat up front. He carefully shook the snow from his overcoat and hung it on the rack in the corner. It was a blustery winter evening in Boston, and the snow accumulation was expected to reach twelve inches. One of the barmaids was mopping the small entryway to keep the floor as dry as possible. Morrison and O'Toole had been frequenting this bar for over a decade. It was a quaint, small establishment that had been owned by the O'Leary family for three generations. The bar was constructed of mahogany and dated back to the early 1800's. Morrison always enjoyed the intricate wood carvings in the bar that gave it a unique, ornate appearance. O'Toole took a seat next to his friend and propped his feet on the shiny brass rail at the bottom of the bar. He called out to the bartender, who was drying a beer glass and heading in their direction. "Hey, Arty, give me a double shot of the Jameson." O'Toole then turned to Morrison with a somber look. "I hear you got assigned to that homicide case for Paxton's wife. I also heard that it was a horrible sight to behold."

Morrison turned to O'Toole with a look of trepidation. "I've seen some things in my day, but this one takes the cake."

"How's Paxton holding up? I hear he came home and found her lying in the middle of the dining room in pieces."

Morrison kept his voice at a whisper to prevent anyone from hearing. "Look, Jamie, I'm not supposed to discuss the particulars with anyone because they don't want the press to get a hold of the details, but I need to talk to someone. I know that I can trust you to keep quiet."

O'Toole took a sip of his whiskey. "Of course you can, Aaron. I sure ain't gonna tell no one."

"Whoever did this is one sick fuck. Her body had rope marks around her wrists, ankles and throat. He obviously tied her up and raped her repeatedly. Then he drained most of her blood, which he took with him. He cut off her breasts and cut out her vagina and laid them next to her body. Semen was everywhere. In fact, there was so much of it that he had to have transported some of it to the scene. No one produces the amount that we found covering her body parts. They put Paxton on medical leave immediately and took him off of that murder case that he was investigating in Oak Square. He's staying with his parents for now. The doctor is keeping him heavily sedated."

"Geez, Aaron, how does anyone overcome anything like that?"

"I have no idea. We sent samples of DNA to the lab for analysis and matching. We're not even sure if it is all from the same perpetrator yet. I gotta go interview Paxton tomorrow afternoon. There's talk of bringing in the FBI on this one."

"Tomorrow is New Year's Day."

"I know, but the Chief doesn't want any of us to rest until we find this guy."

"So, what about the New Year's Eve party tonight? I thought the Chief was encouraging everyone to attend."

"That's true, he is. He wants to address everyone and explain some strategies for the upcoming year. That's why nobody's wife is supposed to attend. I think he plans to run for Mayor in the next election. That's probably another reason that he is so relentless to find this murderer."

"Yeah, Angie was upset when I told her that wives weren't supposed to attend the party. She gets suspicious about what goes on at these events."

"I know, Allison feels the same way, but Captain Reese wants to talk to me about this case at the party. I just got the assignment before I got off duty this evening."

"So, why would they bring in the FBI on this? They normally don't do that unless similar murders occur across state lines."

"That's part of what the captain wants to explain to me tonight. That murder in Oak Square that Paxton was investigating was also for an officer's wife. My guess is that they think there is a link between the two. I think they are going to give me the Oak Square case as well."

"Well, if they think this is the start of a serial murder, it explains the FBI coming in to take the lead. So, when did the Oak Square murder occur?"

"It was a week prior to last Wednesday. Paxton had been spending a considerable amount of time on it, and he wasn't home much. I'm sure he's blaming himself for being away when his wife was murdered."

"Well, Paxton won't be coming back to work for a very long time, if at all."

"I agree, Jamie. That's too bad because he was an excellent detective."

"So, do you want to share a cab over to the convention center for the party?"

"Sure, that would be great, but let's have another drink before we go. I hear they are only serving beer and wine at the party, and I need something stronger than that."

Morrison and O'Toole made small talk in the back of the taxi as the windshield wipers kept time with the heavy snow that fell. Slush splashed onto the curb as the cab pulled up in front of the convention center on Summer Street. Morrison paid the driver, and the two officers hurriedly stepped out and covered their eyes from the blinding snow as they made their way inside. They shook their coats in the vestibule and looked for signs that pointed to the Police New Year's Eve Party. Both officers emptied their pockets and signed over their weapons at the security checkpoint. A long walk down one of the corridors took them to the police party's security checkpoint where they were required to show their identification and scan their fingerprints. Both officers received wrist tags and were allowed to continue down the hall to the party.

Morrison winced and grimaced to O'Toole as they entered the room. It was brightly lit with clusters of decorations and a huge clock positioned above the sound stage for the midnight countdown. A live band was performing, and the music was so loud that one had to speak directly into another's ear to be heard. This wasn't only an annoyance, but it provided a safeguard from anyone overhearing conversations. The two men quickly scanned the room to locate the nearest drink station. Within minutes, they had large glasses of lager in their hands and found a table. Neither of them was hungry, so they passed on the huge buffet in the center of the room. They looked circumspectly to see if they could recognize anyone.

Suddenly, an attractive woman in her early thirties with light brown hair took a seat at their table. O'Toole was startled by her abrupt appearance, and Morrison smiled as he recognized her familiar face. "Jamie, this is Officer Erin Muldoon. Erin, this is Officer Jamie O'Toole. Officer Muldoon works with the Internal Affairs Division. She was instrumental in prosecuting the officers that were on the take over in the D-4 District last year."

Jamie extended his right hand. "Pleased to meet you, Officer Muldoon."

Erin put her glass of Merlot on the table and cordially shook Jamie's hand. "Likewise, Officer O'Toole. I apologize, and I don't want to appear to be rude, but I need to speak with Detective Morrison in private for a few minutes. We won't be long." Jamie nodded and wandered off with his beer. Erin waited until Jamie was out of sight. "Aaron, I know that you were assigned to the Paxton murder case this afternoon."

"Yeah, that's true. I was the first one on the scene. I heard the call, and I was in the area. Paxton was sitting on his front doorstep in a daze. At first, I was afraid that he had murdered his wife, but after I entered the house, it was apparent that he didn't do it. It was a horrible sight to behold."

"Aaron, you and I go back to high school. Please keep this to yourself, but I wanted to give you a heads up to watch your back."

"What do you mean?"

"There are suspicions brewing out there that Paxton and Simmons just lost their wives because they have been doing business with the wrong people. I have been called in on the QT to perform my own investigation for Internal Affairs. If Paxton and Simmons were dirty, you might run into some unexpected trouble in your investigation. I just didn't want an old friend to get blindsided by someone trying to cover up a suspicious relationship."

"I appreciate that, Erin. The captain wants to talk with me tonight about the case."

"Yes, I know. You haven't had a chance to learn the similarities between the two murders, but we definitely believe that they are related. I'll let the captain explain it to you. Sorry for the interruption, but I was afraid that I wouldn't have another chance to warn you tonight."

"Oh, that's OK, you don't need to apologize. Officer O'Toole and I have been friends for years. We rode here together tonight. I told him that I needed to speak with the captain in private. I'll connect with Jamie later."

"Well, be careful who you confide in about these cases. I've learned from experience that you never know who you can trust. Usually, it's no one."

"Well, I certainly appreciate your warning. I'll be extra careful. So, on a lighter note, Erin, when are you going to meet a nice man and settle down?"

Erin gave a contemptuous snort. "Are you kidding? Who could put up with my schedule? I work all the time."

"Yeah, I know that, but weren't you seeing some guy a couple of years ago? Whatever happened to him, Joe, John, whoever?"

"It was Jerry. We lasted about six months until I had him investigated."

Aaron chuckled. "Caught him cheating on you, did you?"

"No, actually, he was as faithful as my dog."

Morrison gave Muldoon a questioning look. "So, what was the problem?"

"Jerry found out that I had him investigated, and he left me." Muldoon leaned forward toward Morrison. "See, that's just it, I don't trust anyone. I catch the bad ones, and the good ones get offended. I've given up entertaining the idea of a relationship."

"That's too bad, Erin, you're a great girl."

"Speaking of great girls, how's Allison doing?"

"She's doing pretty good. She was a little upset that wives weren't invited to the party tonight. She gets a little suspicious about internal affairs, if you know what I mean."

"Boy, do I. You wouldn't believe the dirt that I uncover during investigations, but I can't talk about it." Erin finished the last of her Merlot and stood to leave. "If I see Captain Reese, I'll send him your way. Enjoy the party, if that's possible."

"Thanks, Erin, you do the same."

A few familiar officers stopped by briefly to exchange pleasantries with Detective Morrison over the next half hour. Morrison spotted Captain Reese in a conversation with the Chief of Police near the sound stage where the band was getting ready to begin another set. Reese looked pensive and nodded his head a few times. The Chief took hold of Reese's upper right arm and gave him a couple of pats on the back before dismissing him. Morrison saw Reese scanning the room, and he suspicioned that Reese was looking for him. Morrison rose from his chair and put his hand in the air trying to gain the captain's attention. Finally, Reese spotted him and nodded as he walked in Morrison's direction. The two shook hands, and Captain Reese took a seat as he encouraged Detective Morrison to retrieve another beer. Morrison thanked him and returned shortly with a full glass.

Captain Reese began, "I'm sorry for intruding on the festivities tonight, but I need to fill you in on a few things before you go interrogate Detective Paxton tomorrow."

"Oh, that's fine. I appreciate it, really. I need all of the information that I can get."

"Well, you're one of our better detectives, and you already saw the murder scene. I wanted to keep the exposure of this incident to the fewest people possible. We're going to release the case file to you for the Simmons murder. The office is closed tomorrow, so you will get the file the following day. There are a few things that you need to know before tomorrow. By the way, the Chief just informed me that Officer Simmons took his own life just a couple of hours ago. Paxton's family has been alerted to keep a close eye on Detective Paxton and be aware of warning signs. He made a good move to go to his parents and not stay alone like Simmons did. We have no idea what you are walking into here, but these two murders are definitely related. The file for Simmons was sealed, and only three officers knew all of the details. One of the officers is a forensic analyst. Officer Simmons' wife was tied, raped, and dismembered much like what you found at Paxton's house. The body parts were different, which coincided with the sexual assault. Simmons was sodomized, and her anus was cut out of her body and left next to her along with her severed breasts. There's no question about the MO matching between these two murders. Likewise, as with the Paxton case, copious amounts of semen were found covering the body parts."

Detective Morrison nodded in acknowledgement. "Was the Simmons victim drained of her blood the same as Paxton?"

Captain Reese nodded in assent. "Yes, she was, and the blood was removed from the scene. Both murders happened after dark in the evening when the victims were alone. Luckily, neither family had children."

"Well, I assume that Paxton and Simmons did not know one another. Otherwise, Paxton would never have been assigned to the Simmons case."

"That is very true, Detective. The irony is that the investigating officer's wife was murdered in like fashion."

"Well, it seems apparent that both of these murders are related. I expect the semen samples from both of them to match. The question now becomes what the link was between these two officers. The obvious link is the personnel who were working with Paxton and knew the details of the Simmons murder. I'll have each one tested for DNA matches to eliminate any suspicion."

"That's a good start, Detective. Be sure to keep all details and findings confidential. Whoever is responsible is most likely far closer than we would want to believe."

"I heard a rumor that the FBI might be stepping in on this."

"Yes, that's true. An agent is arriving on Thursday from Washington, D. C. He will be reviewing the case files and talking with you to determine if the feds need to get involved. You and I will cover the details together on Wednesday before he arrives the next day." Captain Reese stood to leave and shook Morrison's hand. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Detective, and good luck."

Morrison gulped down half of his beer and set the glass on the table as he leaned back in his chair. His thoughts were with his wife and the potential danger that she could be in due to his assignment to investigate these murder cases. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his sister. "Janette, I need for you get to my place as soon as possible and spend the evening with Allison and the girls. Be sure to take that nine millimeter automatic with you that I bought for you last year, and don't fall asleep before I get there. I'll explain as much as I can when I get home later tonight." Morrison then phoned his wife to let her know that his sister would be arriving soon and warned that she might be in danger.

O'Toole reappeared with two full glasses of beer and handed one to Morrison. "Are you OK? You look a little flustered."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just talked with Captain Reese. The feds are coming on Thursday to analyze these cases for potential involvement. I have a lot to do before then, and I think I need to get my family out of town."

"So, you think that because of the link between the Oak Square murder and Paxton's wife that Allison could be next."

"It's possible, and believe me, I don't want to take any chances. I just sent Janette over to stay with Allison and the girls this evening until I get home. I'm hoping to get my family on a plane tomorrow to send them to my in-laws' place in Chicago until we catch whoever is behind these murders."

"Geez, Aaron, that could take some time. What are you going to do about the girls' schooling? Winter break will be over soon."

"Yeah, I know. I'll need to go talk with the principal to see if I can have them set up with online courses for a while. I can't let them stay near home. It's too dangerous." Morrison nodded toward the stage. "Looks like the Chief is ready to address everyone." Morrison and O'Toole tried to continue their conversation and keep an ear toward the Chief. He commended everyone for the great job that they were doing and worked through a list of upcoming retirees and potential candidates to refill positions on the force. He finally introduced his intentions to begin his political campaign for mayor in the next election. What happened next came as a surprise and a disappointment to Morrison. The Chief addressed the two recent murders of police wives in the Boston area and commended Detective Morrison with high hopes that he would be successful in solving the murders.

O'Toole turned to Morrison. "Looks like the Chief has a lot of confidence in you."

"Yeah, I really wish he hadn't brought these cases to everyone's attention. It just makes my job all the harder. I need to find the link between these cases, and I don't need any interference."

As the Chief wrapped up his discourse, Morrison and O'Toole got fresh glasses of beer and returned to the table. For the next hour, fellow officers and detectives stopped by the table to congratulate Morrison and wish him luck. When the visitors waned, a seasoned detective slid into one of the chairs at the table. He was one of the upcoming retirees mentioned by the Chief. He extended his hand toward Morrison. "Congratulations, Detective Morrison. I'm Detective Hanson. You probably heard the Chief mention that I am retiring next month."

"My apologies, Detective, but the Chief mentioned a lot of names up there. However, congratulations to you on your retirement."

"Thank you. It's long overdue. This isn't an easy job to walk away from. You always feel like you need to catch just one more criminal before you go."

"Yes, I can understand that. What finally made you decide to take the leap into retirement?"

"My grandkids and snow. I love one and hate the other. My wife and I are moving down to a home in Vero Beach June first. I can't wait."

"That sounds like a wonderful plan. I wish you the best."

"Thanks, Detective, but I didn't stop by for pleasantries. I've been around a long time, and I am the king of scuttlebutt on this force. I know a lot of people, and if I were in your shoes I'd be very careful how you proceed with these investigations."

Morrison leaned back in his chair and eyed Detective Hanson. "Really? How so?"

Hanson leaned forward toward Morrison clutching his beer. "Why do you think that you got assigned to these cases?"

"Well, I assumed that it was because I was the first one on the scene at the Paxton murder. I know the intention is to keep the particulars as secret as possible."

Hanson leaned back in his chair shaking his head. "Naw, that's not it."

Morrison smiled and replied, "So, what's your idea as to why I was assigned to these cases."

Hanson tapped the table with his forefinger three times. "You're being set up, pal, but I have no idea who's behind it."

Morrison ran his finger around the rim of his glass as he studied Hanson's eyes. "So, tell me, what would you do if you were in my situation?"

"Well, first of all, I'd have someone watching my back whom I could trust."

"And just how would that trusted person watch my back?"

Hanson set his beer glass on the table. "Look, I've got eyes and ears all over the department. I've been here longer than most everyone on the force. I can help you. I know when a fellow detective is being set up, and I don't want to leave here knowing that I could have saved you from something that I know is coming. I'm getting ready to retire, and this could be my last opportunity to do something really worthwhile. You think it over. Here's my card, and my personal phone number is written on the back. Give me a call. I can help you." Hanson stood and walked away with his beer.

O'Toole looked over at Morrison with wide eyes and rounded lips. "Geez, Aaron, what is going on?"

Morrison shook his head as the corners of his mouth turned down hard. "I don't know, Jamie, but Erin Muldoon told me not to trust anyone."

Half an hour was left in the year, and Morrison spotted the female escorts that began to permeate the room. They would be selling New Year's kisses to the officers who were willing to pay. Morrison also knew that many of the escorts would be offering considerably more companionship for the night at a much higher price to those who were lonely, willing, and available.

As the clock inched its way toward midnight, Muldoon returned to Morrison's table. She scooted in next to Morrison with a full glass of beer and handed him one as well. O'Toole knew the look in her eye, and he excused himself. She turned to Morrison. "So, the clock is ticking, and I have this obnoxious detective who keeps following me around. I know he wants a midnight kiss, and I'm not interested." Muldoon put her arm around Morrison's neck. "Can I borrow your lips at midnight?"

Morrison chortled. "Of course, what are friends for?"

Muldoon leaned in to kiss Morrison's cheek. "So, does Allison know about us in high school?"

Morrison gave Muldoon an assuring glance. "Absolutely not, and there's no reason to let her know. That is ancient history."

"I know, Aaron, but it's times like these that I really appreciate you having my back."

"Yes, and that's all I'm going to have tonight. You need to lighten up on the beer." Muldoon held Morrison's right arm tightly as she laid her head on his shoulder. "By the way, Erin, there's someone I need to ask you about."

Muldoon shook her head and looked up at Morrison. She was obviously very inebriated. "Yes, and who is that?"

"Detective Hanson stopped by to warn me about the possibility of me being set up with the assignment to lead these investigations, and he offered to help me."

Muldoon pulled back to look at Morrison with wide eyes. "You don't mean Detective Jonathan Hanson, who is getting ready to retire, do you?"

"Well, he introduced himself as Detective Hanson, and he said that he was retiring soon. The Chief mentioned him as one of the upcoming retirees." Morrison pulled Hanson's business card from his pocket. "Yep, his name is Jonathan Hanson."

Muldoon sat upright in her chair and tried to clear her head. "My god, Aaron, I have a case file inches thick on that man. He's as slippery as a greased pig. We nearly had him three years ago on a possible racketeering and murder charge, but he weaseled his way out of it. There was a disappointing lack of evidence, but I was certain that he was guilty. He lives above his means, but not so extravagantly that it would leave no room for doubt. This guy is bad news."

"So, why would he be so gracious to offer his services to protect me during this investigation?"

Muldoon grabbed Morrison by his upper right arm with wide eyes. "Oh, my god, Aaron, I can't believe I'm going to say this to such a close friend, but this could be my chance to catch him. You need to accept his offer."

"My intention is to put Allison and the girls on a plane tomorrow to get them out of town. I have no idea what's going on, but my first priority is with my wife and children. Once I know that they are secure, I'll give Hanson a call, but you owe me one for this. There's no way I would do this without your request."

Muldoon hugged Morrison tightly. "Oh, yes, and thank you. We've been trying to nail this guy for years."

There is a time as the clock ticks toward midnight on New Year's Eve. Everyone's eyes are glued on the clock as they participate in the countdown of the last ten seconds of the year. Kisses are arranged and expected. Some are innocent, and some are not. Muldoon watched the second hand tick its way into the upright position as her head lay on Morrison's shoulder. He witnessed the clock as a man awaiting a death sentence. The time arrived, and Muldoon straddled Morrison in his chair. She put her arms around his neck and planted her lips upon his. Then came her tongue. She moaned and writhed, and in that moment Morrison became aware of why Muldoon never had a lasting lover. His eyes were closed, and he heard the explosion just before he felt the confetti raining down upon his head. He pulled away from Muldoon and took a deep breath. His wife and children were leaving town, and Muldoon had just thrust him into a working relationship with her. There were too many facets to the tasks that lay before him, and he shook his head as he tried to understand how he could possibly navigate them all.

People milled about as they gathered their belongings. Everyone was preparing to go home to spouses, children, pets, empty abodes, siblings, parents, but mostly to a loneliness that no one wanted to admit or entertain. Morrison gave Muldoon an assuring hug and watched her walk toward the door. O'Toole waited in the wings as he anticipated sharing a ride with Morrison homeward. After all, one of the reasons that they had become friends is that they lived on the same block with one another. Lines of officers waited to retrieve their weapons. Stations of belongings were grouped by the letters of last names to facilitate the returns. O'Toole waited for Morrison in the vestibule.

Countless taxicabs lined the curb, and they were arriving and leaving as fast as officers could fill them. The snow was deepening more than expected, and snow plows were busy clearing the streets. O'Toole never mentioned Muldoon to Morrison during the ride home. He wasn't naive, and he didn't want to know more than he could handle. He had known Aaron and Allison for years. He wanted to keep his accountability to a minimum. Morrison had been intensely pensive on the ride home. He was trying to formulate in his mind how he could possibly substantiate his insistence on Allison and the girls leaving town. He was thankful that he had never disclosed his true, past relationship with Erin Muldoon.

O'Toole was the first to get dropped off, and Morrison pulled his phone from his pocket to call Allison and let her know that he would be arriving in the next couple of minutes. Communication was essential, and he didn't want Janette to get spooked and shoot him by mistake. Morrison turned the key in the front door lock and slowly opened before stepping inside. He called to the women, and they answered from the living room where they awaited him on the couch. Morrison hung his coat in the hall closet and entered the room. He was relieved to be home. Allison immediately stood and demanded to know what was going on, and why Janette needed to bring a gun.

"Honestly, Allie, there's a lot that I am not allowed to tell you, but I just got an assignment for a couple of very disturbing cases, and it is more than likely that you are in danger. I need for you to go to your parents' condo in Chicago with the girls until these cases are solved. I can't take any chances. I'll go over to the school after break and talk with the principal to get the girls set up with online courses until you can return."

"Aaron, my parents are in Florida for the winter. You know that."

"Yes, and you have a key to their condo and the security codes to get in. I'm not leaving your side until I get you on a plane to Chicago tomorrow morning. This is serious, Allie. I have to work tomorrow, so we need to book a flight for you right away."

"So, you have obviously been assigned to those murder cases for the detectives' wives."

"Yes, I have, and the FBI is coming in on Thursday to review the cases. They may be taking the lead on this, but I will have to assist. This is a very high profile case, and the Chief is expecting resolution as soon as possible. I'm going to be working seven days a week, and I can't be here to protect you."

"Aaron, this could drag on for weeks or months. This is unrealistic. I can't be gone that long."

"I understand your concern, but I don't want you gone forever either. Let's just play this by ear, but I need to get you to a safe place as soon as possible. Please, get on your laptop and book the first available flight to Chicago."

Allison was frustrated and left the room to sign onto her computer. Janette looked up at her brother. "Aaron, don't you think you're overreacting a bit? If you're concerned for Allie's safety, I can stay here with her in the evenings when you are away."

"Jan, if I could explain the details you would totally understand. These crimes are serious, and whoever is behind this is intelligent and extremely dangerous. We haven't even gotten a good start on the investigation, and hopefully we will find the perpetrator soon. I need your support on this."

Janette slipped her handgun into her purse. "OK, Aaron, I'm with you on this, but just know that I'm here if you need me."

"Thanks, Jan, and thanks for coming over here tonight to be with Allie. I really appreciate it."

Aaron walked Janette to her car and made sure that she was safely inside before returning to the house. Allison was stuffing clothing into her suitcase. She was perturbed. "I have a flight that leaves just after eight in the morning. I won't be getting much sleep tonight. I have to pack for the girls too."

"I'll help with the girls' things. I know you're upset, but you need to trust me on this."

"You know, Aaron, being a detective's wife really sucks for the most part, but this time I think it's particularly annoying that I have to leave town in a moment's notice with the girls."

"I know. I wish I could have given you more notice, but I just found out about some of the details this evening. Allie, if something happened to you because I didn't take the necessary precautions, I would never forgive myself. I have to go interrogate a fellow detective tomorrow, who I'm sure is feeling the exact same thing."

Morrison wandered into the kitchen. He completely understood his wife's consternation. Usually, the annoyance of his job was long hours of work at unpredictable times. He had missed his share of holidays, family activities, school events, and birthday parties. This was the first time that he felt that it was necessary to relocate his family for an undetermined amount of time. He wanted her far from Boston. He couldn't imagine what Paxton was suffering after seeing his wife carved up on the dining room floor. He was dreading the interview tomorrow, but he had faced similar interrogations before. However, he had never before considered that a loved one might be the next victim in a serial murder case. He had no idea what to expect. Muldoon suspicioned that these two detectives were connected to illegal business dealings, and they had suffered the retribution of a disgruntled partner. From Morrison's experience, that seemed unlikely. These didn't appear to be grudge murders.

The perpetrator expected an appreciation for his skill and organization. The murder scene was looming in Morrison's mind like a nightmare tattooed upon his brain. As chaotic as it might sound, in reality the murder was carefully orchestrated, and everything had been done with precision and care. The perpetrator had planned every detail. The body had been carved with the skill of a surgeon, and the blood had been kept to a minimum by removing as much as reasonably possible. The excessive amount of semen at the scene was a mystery. Why would someone go to the trouble of bringing more evidence to the scene of the crime? Still, Morrison knew that the lab results would help clear up some questions. He wasn't convinced that it had all come from the perpetrator, or if it was all human. Too many questions needed to be answered.

Morrison grabbed two glasses from the bar and filled them with ice. He poured double shots of Bushmills Whiskey into each and returned to the bedroom. He handed one to Allison as a peace offering and invited her into the living room to talk. "Look, Allie, I'm as upset as you are. I don't want you to have to leave home, but I can't take any chances. I know my job is hard to deal with sometimes, but it has afforded us the opportunity to have you stay at home with the girls. We don't live above our means, and we have been very careful with our spending. If we're going to be responsible spouses and parents, I think we need to realize that extreme circumstances call for extreme measures. Maybe after this is all over I can explain it more to you, but if you knew what happened, I think you would want to get out of town."

Allison was sitting with her arms resting on her knees as she held her glass. She shook her head. "I know, Aaron, and I'm sorry. I just got blindsided by this, and it upset me. I do trust you, and I know that you're right. I have no idea what you're dealing with, and I'm sure that you'll proceed with caution. Just keep me updated on your safety each day. You have no idea how much I worry about you."

"I promise that I will. This next week will be horrendous for me. I have a lot to do, and knowing that you're safe will help me focus a whole lot better. Let's finish our drinks, and I'll help you pack the girls' things. Then we need to try to catch a couple of hours of sleep."

## CHAPTER TWO

### _New Year's Day_

ALLISON AND THE girls were in the air. She was going to text Morrison when she landed and again after they were secure in her parents' condo. Morrison's fears were laid to rest for the time as he cut into his blueberry pancakes at the diner on Broadway. Allison always provided excellent meals, and this place wasn't far from Logan Airport where he could snag a great breakfast before starting his day with the usual lack of sleep. He smiled at his plate because he had bacon and sausage, something that Allison never allowed. The waitress poured Morrison a refill of coffee for the third time and left his check before she departed. He stabbed a triangle of pancake and shoved it into his mouth as he viewed the check. He estimated that he could afford a thirty percent tip and wiped his mouth after devouring the last of his sausage.

It was morning, and his interview with Paxton wasn't until afternoon. He returned home and went into his small office to prepare his board for the details of the murder cases. Morrison was a visual person, and he needed the relational and connotative aspects of seeing events and facts on his large board in order to connect potential, logical dots in a murder case. This room was off limits to his family, and he appreciated the fact that he didn't need to lock the door since they were out of town. His cell phone was sitting on his desk as he finished preparing his board, and he had an incoming call. It was Erin Muldoon. He loved Erin dearly, but he was disappointed and apprehensive because he knew that Erin was aware that Allison was leaving Boston. He snatched his phone from the desk and answered, "Hey, Erin, what's up?"

"Hey, Aaron, I have been thinking about your situation since last night. We should probably put our heads together to come up with a game plan to nail Hanson."

"You know, Erin, as much as I can appreciate your perspective, I really need to concentrate on the facts for this case. Let me give you a call when I think that there is something that you need to know."

"Oh, OK, I'm sorry. I thought maybe we could help each other."

"I'm sure we will, but let me be the one to call you, OK?"

"OK, geez, I'm sorry to bother you."

Morrison hung up his phone. He was irritated with Muldoon. He remembered her from high school. It was always her agenda. It was her reputation, her standing within the student society, her future. She certainly enjoyed the sex, but she wasn't willing to admit that she was involved with him. Times change, but people seldom do. He shook his head in disgust and began to rethink his possible involvement with Detective Hanson. Why did this guy want to help him so much? He could be the one behind the murders for all Morrison knew. He knew that Muldoon was right, he couldn't trust anyone, not even her.

His breakfast had settled, and it was time for a run. He suited up with some long johns, sweats, stocking cap, and a scarf to keep from sucking subfreezing air into his lungs. It was nearly zero outside, and this was the coldest that he would allow himself to go out for one of these jaunts. He worked his way through the streets of his neighborhood being careful not to venture too far from his home on such a cold day. His mind began to wander onto the thoughts of the murders. He often found that long distance running gave him a perspective of events that he couldn't find any other way. He had a lot to learn, but he also knew that having a lack of answers often caused him to assess situations without dismissing assumptions due to evidence that could be misleading. He had worked up a good sweat, and ice was forming on his facial scarf.

Two fellow officers had been targeted with the brutal murders of their wives. There was a connection, but it was too soon to determine what it was. He wasn't willing to set Allison up as a decoy, and he wondered how committed he was to do his job. He had heard of other similar situations where detectives had put their families in possible jeopardy to solve a murder, but he knew of none personally. He sometimes suspicioned that they were just stories to exploit the commitment of officers to do things that normally they would not do. He certainly was not one of those officers. Allison meant the world to him, and his daughters were the epitome of their mother. He would leave Boston, the police force, and earth itself to keep Allison and the girls.

Morrison checked his watch, and he was surprised that he had stayed out far longer than planned. He returned home, stripped off his clothes, and stepped into the shower. He scrubbed down, shaved, and dressed for his interview with Detective Paxton. Allison had left two text messages, and she and the girls were safe at her parents' condo in Chicago. Morrison had about a forty-five minute drive to Paxton's parents' house. He gathered his thoughts and his implements for interrogation. He felt prepared, and he straightened his tie. He was experienced enough to know that if one was interrogating another about the murder of his spouse that he best be portrayed as a respectful sympathizer. He had no idea what he would encounter.

Morrison pulled into the drive in Forest Hills and parked as discreetly as possible. Still, a valet came and took his keys to repark his car and clear the drive. Morrison nodded and smiled. There was no way he was tipping this man. He trudged toward the front door and rang the bell. A cute, young maid in a black and white uniform with a very short skirt opened and invited him inside. This clearly was not what Morrison expected as the parents of a fellow detective. She coquettishly curtsied and took his coat. My, how the other half lives! What appeared to be a man in waiting took Morrison's arm to escort him to the family area. He introduced Detective Morrison to the family and retreated to the inner house. Morrison was in awe of the three story vestibule where tropical plants were allowed to thrive on the natural sunlight provided by the glass roof and deeply cultivated soil within the garden areas of the room. He felt as though he had stepped into South America as the temperature and humidity were conducive to this gorgeous venue of paradise.

Morrison readily spotted Detective Paxton, who had his mother's arm around his neck and her head pressed against his. Paxton's father sat across from him in a chair holding a Scotch and Bourbon cocktail. He didn't appear to be a man to be trifled with, and Morrison was certain that Daddy was determined to find who was responsible. Detective Paxton was very distraught and apparently equally anesthetized. This was a family who obviously wanted answers at an unrealistic rate. For the first time in an interrogation, Morrison considered himself to be underdressed.

Daddy began, "Detective Morrison, I am Horatio Paxton. Perhaps you have heard of me." Morrison slightly shook his head. "I don't tolerate violence or any indiscretion toward my loved ones. I appreciate your endeavor to solve this horrendous attack upon my family, but I want to make it perfectly clear that I intend to sweeten the pot for you. I will pay you one hundred thousand dollars for the arrest and execution of my daughter-in-law's assailant. Notice that I said, 'execution,' because Massachusetts does not allow the death penalty. Do we have a clear understanding?"

Morrison paused and cleared his throat. "Mr. Paxton, I can sympathize with your pain and your zeal. Believe me, our foremost desire is to bring this perpetrator to justice. However, you must realize that I cannot participate in any unlawful deeds. I am a constable entrusted with the workings of due process within our legal system."

Daddy Paxton leaned forward and shouted, "Oh, poppycock! I want this son of bitch gutted in the middle of the Commons for god's sake!"

Morrison held his demeanor. "I do understand, Sir, and we will find this 'son of a bitch' and bring him to justice. So, without further ado, I would like to speak with your son in private."

The mother nodded and arose to take her husband's hand. They retreated into another room, and Detective Paxton fell sideways onto the couch. Morrison knelt beside the couch and attended to Detective Paxton. "Look, Bobby, I know that you are heavily drugged, but I need all of the information that I can get from you today."

Detective Paxton silently whispered, "Shhh... I'm not nearly as drugged as they think. Act like you're helping me into the garden, and we will disappear among the pine trees."

Morrison studied Paxton's face. "Seriously? It's well below freezing out there. We aren't dressed for this."

"Exactly, which is why they won't suspect us being out there. Please, I have much to tell you, and these rooms have ears."

The two men left the vestibule via a discreet exit that appeared to be nothing more than a window. Paxton led Morrison along a path into a small wooded area and huddled behind some pines. "We don't have much time. I came to my parents' house because I was fairly certain that the attack was meant for me."

Morrison interrupted. "First, I need to know if you and Simmons were involved in illegal business dealings."

"Oh, good god, no! Simmons and I are above board. We never knew one another. We had no relational ties. I was blindsided by this attack, and if I had any inkling that it could connect in any way shape or form, I would have done my best to prevent it. I hope you have protected your loved ones."

"Thank you, I have, but what do you think the link was between you and Simmons?"

"I have no clue. I have been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Please, I need your business card. I have information that no one else knows. This is extremely important because it's the only fact that hasn't been disclosed to anyone."

Morrison tucked his card into Paxton's pocket. "How could no one else know about this evidence? I don't understand."

Paxton grabbed Morrison by both upper arms. "Simmons gave me a VHS tape. It recorded the entire rape and murder of his wife."

Morrison was shocked. "What?! Why would anyone use an antiquated medium like VHS and leave damning evidence?"

"I have no idea, but I'm sure he watched it because he told me about it, and I have the tape."

"How did the forensics team miss this tape?"

"Simmons found it tucked in his sock drawer when he was getting dressed the next day. He had a VHS player in his basement, and he unwittingly watched the tape. He gave it to me afterward, and I feel certain that it contributed to his suicide." Paxton turned to Morrison with a wild eyed look. "I have a similar tape! I knew better than to watch it. I think that's what pushed Simmons over the edge to commit suicide. I believe that my wife's murder is on the tape that I found. I'm sure of it! I will give it to you, but you must promise to never show it to anyone."

Morrison felt a sense of duty to a fellow officer. "I do promise never to disclose it, but where is it?"

"My sister, Casandra, has both tapes, and she is waiting to give them to you before you leave. She will meet you in the garden as you exit on your left. Talk to her briefly, and she will put the tapes into your coat while the valet retrieves your car."

Morrison grabbed Paxton by his upper arms and gave a good shake. "Paxton, I swear that I will find whoever is responsible, and we'll bring him to justice."

Paxton collapsed in Morrison's arms. "I have no doubt, Detective Morrison."

Morrison helped Paxton back to the tropical vestibule and got him settled onto the couch before continuing his interrogation. They spent the next half hour discussing Paxton's whereabouts just prior to the murder and some additional facts about the Simmons case. Paxton was overcome with emotion, and he popped another pill before lying back on the couch. Morrison kindly promised to continue their discussion in the near future and left Paxton lying in the vestibule. He then stepped into the foyer to retrieve his coat from the gentleman who led him to the family. Mother and Father reiterated their appreciation for Morrison's efforts as he donned his coat to leave. He stepped outside and sauntered to the left. Surely, Paxton's sister, Casandra, approached Morrison and slipped two VHS tapes into his coat pocket. What surprised him most was that she kissed him on the lips and begged, "Please, find my sister-in-law's murderer. We're trusting in you."

Morrison pondered his encounter with Paxton. It was brief, but he had a much better grasp on the situation. He believed Paxton that this was not a murder due to illegal business dealings. However, Paxton said that he thought initially the attack was meant for him. Was someone trying to discourage him from investigating Simmons' murder? The two were obviously linked. Morrison was still confused why VHS video tapes had been left to the husbands of the victims other than the obvious shame and outrage. Morrison was glad that he had gotten Allison and the girls out of town. He certainly wasn't going to wait to see if his wife was threatened in like manner as Simmons and Paxton. Morrison pulled into his garage and took his belongings inside. He changed his clothes and fixed himself a drink. He was reluctant to watch the tapes.

The room was deathly quiet, and Morrison wasn't used to it. He poured himself another Bushmills Whiskey and stared at the VHS tapes sitting upon his coffee table in the living room. He didn't relish the idea of seeing his fellow officer's wives naked and being raped and murdered. As much as he wanted to avoid the experience, he knew that as an investigative officer, he had to watch the tapes. It took three more drinks before Morrison decided to review the additional evidence. He had borrowed a VHS player from a friend on his way home, and he hooked the cable to the television and plugged in the player. He took a deep breath and fed the video into the slot of the player.

The video started with the Simmons victim tied down naked upon a bed with a blindfold. The next scene portrayed her being relentlessly drilled by her assailant in her anus. However, the perspective of the video was from the foot of the bed, and the victim's face was not in the scene. Morrison watched the rape sequence several times before moving on to the subsequent scenes. The mutilation scene portrayed the perpetrator removing the victim's breasts and cutting out her anus. However, the victim's face was never shown in the scenes of dismemberment. Serious connections were lacking, and Morrison exchanged the Simmons tape for the Paxton tape in the recorder to view the similarities. Much of what he saw compared to the Simmons murder. In the case of the Paxton dismemberment, the vagina was removed, but no facial recognition was available.

Morrison was dissatisfied with the evidence of the video tapes. He needed another set of eyes. His candidates were few, and he was reluctant to call Muldoon. He hesitated and thought long and hard before inviting her to his house while his family was out of town. He scarcely saw Muldoon perhaps three times a year. However, since the encounter at the New Year's Eve party last night, he had serious reservations. He couldn't choose a better alternate, so he dialed Muldoon's number. She readily answered. "Hey, Aaron, I've been hoping you'd call."

"Yeah, Erin, I need for you to come by my house tonight, if possible, and review some video footage with me. I need another set of eyes to be sure that I'm being objective. By the way, this is top secret. You can't let anyone know that these tapes even exist."

"Absolutely! I'm on my way, and I'll grab a pizza along with a case of beer. See you soon!"

Morrison shook his head and wondered if he was doing the right thing. He had no intention of indulging Muldoon sexually. She was a good analyst, and he could trust her assessment of the video tapes. Still, that kiss at the convention center haunted him, and he was afraid that Muldoon might have ulterior motives. The fact that he took a quick shower and shaved gave him suspicions about his own motives. What was he getting himself into? He dearly loved his wife, and he missed her tremendously, but he needed a different perspective on these videos.

Muldoon rang the doorbell. She had a pizza in one hand and a cold case of beer tucked under her other arm. "Hey, Aaron, I got us covered for tonight. Grab some plates and glasses, and we'll get this party started!"

Morrison stepped to the side to let Muldoon in. "Well, this is no party, but I appreciate the pizza and beer. Put it in the kitchen, and we'll get settled. I need your analytical opinion on some evidence that I have."

Muldoon headed straight for the kitchen and served the pizza and beer. They retired in the living area and sat on the couch. Morrison took a considerable amount of time to explain to Muldoon what he knew so far and about the video tapes that were given to him by Paxton. She munched on pizza and slugged down beer as she kept a tentative ear to what Morrison explained. Morrison left out significant details that were apparent to him in hopes that Muldoon would recognize the same things. Finally, he pushed the Simmons tape into the slot and waited for the video to play.

Once the rape scene began, Muldoon commanded Morrison to stop the video. She turned to Morrison with a mouthful of pizza. "Look at the bed, Aaron! There are no sheets or blankets. It's just the bottom sheet on the bed."

Morrison looked puzzled. "OK, is that a problem?"

"It's unlikely during the winter that you would see that. The bed was stripped of any identifying bed clothes. Tell me, what color is the bottom sheet?"

"It's hard to say. It could be a light blue or green or maybe even a white color."

Muldoon grabbed another slice of pizza. "OK, I'm sorry. Let's see what else is going on. Start it up again." She was uncharacteristically silent during the rest of the video. As soon as it ended, she requested the second video. She carefully watched as she devoured at least half of the large pizza that she brought. Once the videos were over, as she pulled the tab on another beer, she turned to Morrison. "The women in the sex videos are not the women in the dismemberment sequences."

"OK, and please explain how you know that."

Muldoon slugged down half of her beer. "Look at the women's feet. Feet and hands are like faces. They have a unique quality, and believe me, the women in these sequences are not the same people. These videos were fabricated prior to the incidents of murder. That also explains why these women are both shaved. Their pubic hair would be another identifying factor, but it has been removed. He shaved his murder victims as well. I'm also fairly certain that the mutilation scenes aren't the two murder victims either."

Morrison rebutted, "But what about the dismemberment sequences? It showed the victim's face prior to the mutilation."

Muldoon sat upright. "Wow, Aaron, you're missing the movie magic! There's not one shot of the victim's face with the actual mutilation. In fact, if my suspicions are correct, the reason that the blood is missing is because the perpetrator wanted the videos to appear the same."

Morrison pondered for a moment. "My god, Erin, you may be right! I never saw that. These videos are possibly a fabrication of the actual events. Let's watch them again, only more slowly so that we can pause them and discuss what we see."

Morrison and Muldoon spent the next hour slowly reviewing both video tapes. Their final consensus was that the rape victims were definitely not the officers' wives who were murdered. There was no evidence of a struggle, and the rape scenes were too orchestrated to appear real. They both suspicioned that the mutilation scenes were not the murder victims as well. The camera shots were so close that there was no way to identify the surroundings. In addition, the nipples of the breasts were removed prior to the video. That also covered another identifying trait. They now suspicioned whether or not the victims were actually raped, or if the bodies had been penetrated with an object and filled with semen to appear so.

There were a lot of unanswered questions. "Erin, why would the perpetrator go to such great lengths to fabricate these videos?"

Muldoon downed another beer and squashed the can in her hand. "Well, they were obviously meant to disturb the husbands of the victims. It's doubtful that either of them would analyze the video like we did. They would have been too emotional, and they would be reluctant to release evidence with their wives exposed like that. It appears that Simmons committed suicide after reviewing the tape. Maybe that's part of the intention."

"So, who do you think the mutilation victims are that are shown in the video?"

Muldoon leaned forward and put her arms on her knees. "Seriously, I think they are cadavers."

"Erin, if you're right about that, it could narrow our suspects. Not everyone has access to a cadaver."

"That's true. It could be a mortuary or a morgue. Paxton seemed awfully eager to hand over those tapes. Do you think there's any chance that he murdered his own wife in a copycat fashion to throw off the suspicion?"

"I suppose it's possible, but the video tapes point in a different direction. It would have been difficult to reproduce the original tape with the same attributes. I would think that they were produced by the same person. They are too similar."

"Yes, I suppose you're right, Aaron." Muldoon abruptly looked up at Morrison. "Hey, have you called Detective Hanson yet?"

"No, I haven't. I wanted to make sure that Allie was safe before I gave him a call, and I have had a lot to do."

Muldoon took Morrison's glass from the table and poured herself some of the Bushmills Whiskey. Morrison glanced at her with concern. She obviously wasn't driving anywhere tonight. Muldoon gestured toward Morrison with the glass of whiskey. "You should give him a call, Aaron. I'm curious how he thinks he's going to help you, and how he thinks you have been set up."

Morrison shook his head. "No, I'm going to wait until later in the week. I am meeting with Captain Reese tomorrow to discuss the cases and the FBI interview scheduled for Thursday. I want to learn more before I call Hanson."

"I disagree, Aaron. I think you need Hanson's input before you talk to the captain and the feds. He might give you some insight on your situation that could be helpful."

Morrison furrowed his brow. "Hmmm, you may be right." Suddenly, Morrison's phone rang. It was Allison. Morrison snatched the phone and walked into the kitchen to speak with his wife while Muldoon poured herself another drink. She kicked her shoes off and stretched out on the couch to await Morrison's return.

When Morrison appeared, Muldoon looked up at him. "Allison doesn't know that I'm here, does she?"

Morrison sighed. "No, she doesn't."

"Would she be upset if she knew?"

"I don't know, probably."

"Well, don't worry, I'm not telling anyone I was here. She doesn't need to know." Muldoon sat up on the couch. "So, go get Hanson's business card. You can put him on speaker because I want to hear what he has to say." Morrison left the room, and Muldoon ran her fingers through her hair a few times before unfastening the top two buttons on her shirt. Morrison returned and sat on the couch next to Muldoon. He dialed the number written on the back of Hanson's card and activated the speaker.

"Well, well, Morrison, it looks like you're going to take me up on my offer, wise choice."

Morrison glanced at Muldoon. "I'm a little curious what makes you think that I am being set up for this investigation."

"Sure, I can understand that. Let me ask you a few questions. When you heard the call for the Paxton incident, you said that you were in the area."

"Yeah, that's right. I was less than a block from Paxton's house."

"So, where were you going that put you in Paxton's neighborhood?"

"I had just dropped a neighbor off at Logan Airport. Her taxi never showed up, and she was desperate to catch her flight."

"Well, that's very interesting timing. So, tell me, where was Paxton when his wife was being murdered?"

"Detective Hanson, I can't divulge that information. Surely, you know that."

"Damn it, Morrison, don't dance with me. If I'm going to help you, you need to be straight with me. I know for sure that Paxton was going to talk to an informant down at the docks, and when he got there the informant gave him the run around and wasted his time."

"How did you know that?"

"I told you, Morrison, I'm the king of scuttlebutt. I hear everything. It's no coincidence between Paxton's meeting with an informant and you taking a neighbor to the airport at the same time."

"I'm sorry, Detective, but that sounds ridiculous."

"Oh, really? Well, I'm glad you think so because your neighbor's taxi was canceled."

"How do you know that?"

"I've been a detective for a very long time, Morrison. You'd be surprised what I know."

"So, you're telling me that you think it was intentional that I was near Paxton's when the call came in?"

"Yes, sir, I do, and if you hadn't gotten that pretty wife of yours out of town to Chicago, she would have been the next murder victim."

"How do you know where my wife went?"

"Good god, Morrison, how stupid do you think I am? I know a lot about you."

"OK, then who do you think is setting me up?"

"Well, if I knew that then we would be wasting our time here. I'm here to let you know what's happening. You may have to figure out who's behind it. However, I'll be looking as well. We've got to work together on this."

"So, what do you suggest that I do?"

"For now, just be aware that someone is targeting you. I'll let you know if I learn anything else. Pay attention to what people are telling you and read between the lines. The ball game is getting ready to start, so I'm gonna let you go for now. Oh, yeah, Muldoon, next time get some pepperoni on that pizza." Detective Hanson hung up the phone.

Muldoon's eyes were wide with shock. Morrison nodded his head a few times and glanced over at Muldoon. "Hanson's right about the pepperoni."

Muldoon grabbed Morrison's upper left arm. "How in the hell did Hanson know that I was here with a pizza?"

"Oh, not just a pizza, but one without pepperoni. I have no idea how he knows what he knows, but I think he wants to impress me that he does. I know he has been around for a long time, and it's no secret that these older guys on the force stick together. They have shared a lot of experiences with one another, and they go back a long way."

"I need to nail this guy, Aaron. I know he's guilty."

Morrison shook his head. "I don't know, Erin, he's way out of our league. You may need to give up on this one. He could be very dangerous, and I'm not yet convinced that he isn't a suspect for these murders."

Muldoon poured herself another glass of whiskey. "I'm not giving up on this guy. I know he's dirty, and I'm going to find the evidence to put him away."

"Well, I doubt that he will let that happen." Morrison took the glass from Muldoon's hand and took a sip. "He seems convinced that I was set up to take this case, and that Allie was the next in line to be murdered. The fact that he knows that Allie is in Chicago concerns me. I wonder if she's really safe there." Morrison looked over at Muldoon. She was sitting upright on the couch and beginning to sway. "Erin, I think you need to lie down."

"Yeah, maybe so. Can I crash on your couch tonight?"

"The kids are out of town, and you'd probably be much more comfortable in Amy's bed. Let me help you up the stairs."

Muldoon slung her arm around Morrison's neck and laid her head on his left shoulder. Morrison helped her up the stairs and into Amy's room on the right. He held Muldoon around her waist with his right arm as he pulled the covers back with his left hand. He carefully sat Muldoon on the edge of the bed.

She look up with bleary eyes. "Would it be too much to ask if I borrowed some of Allison's pajamas? I don't want to sleep in my clothes."

"Sure, I'll be right back." When Morrison returned, Muldoon was still sitting up and swaying as her head began to nod. "Come on, Erin, you need to get ready for bed. You're going to pass out soon."

Muldoon looked up with a pleading countenance. "Will you help me?"

"Oh, my god, Erin, you can't be serious. Here, stand up and turn your back to me." Morrison helped Muldoon stand and faced her back toward him. He unbuttoned Muldoon's shirt from behind and removed it. He unfastened her bra and dropped it on the floor before pulling the pajama top over Muldoon's head and helping her get her arms into the sleeves. He reached around her waist and unbuckled her jeans. As he pulled them to her ankles, she marched her knees upward to step out them. She then peeled off her underwear and used her feet to remove them from her ankles. Morrison quickly held the pajama bottoms in front of Muldoon as he stood behind her. He was careful not to view her naked bottom while she pulled the pajamas over her legs. Once she was dressed, he helped her lie down in the bed.

Muldoon looked up longingly. "Do I get a goodnight kiss?"

"Of course you do." Morrison bent down and kissed Muldoon's forehead. "Now, go to sleep!"

Morrison retreated, closed the door behind him, and descended the stairs to clean up the kitchen mess. He didn't like keeping secrets from Allison, but if she ever knew that Muldoon spent the night she would be furious. He folded the empty pizza box and stuffed it into the trashcan before gathering the empty beer cans. Three beers were left in the case, and he put them into the fridge. Morrison grabbed a bottled water and sat down on the couch in the living room. Why was Detective Hanson so eager to help? He wasn't asking anything in return. All he said was that he hoped he could do something worthwhile before retiring. There was no doubt that Hanson possessed a valuable knowledge that Morrison needed. Still, Morrison wasn't convinced that Hanson wasn't trying to steer him in the wrong direction. The first thing he needed to do was clear Hanson of any suspicion.

Morrison needed to interrogate Paxton again about the informant who had wasted his time at the docks. If that were true, it meant that the informant was instrumental in aiding with the murder of Paxton's wife. If Hanson was correct about Allison being the next victim, there had to be a link between Simmons, Paxton, and Morrison. However, as far as Morrison knew there was none. They didn't know one another personally. These weren't random murders. Hanson believed that they were carefully planned. Morrison needed to review all of the cases for the three detectives over the past several years to see if there was a link with any suspect that was common to them. It was entirely possible that these murders were retaliation from someone who had suffered from their investigations.

Morrison decided to clear his head and see if he could catch the last of the football game. He clicked on the television and slumped back onto the couch. After about ten minutes, he was too disinterested to continue. He turned off the television and decided to go into his private room to update his board with the items of investigation that he needed to follow. He hadn't gotten off to a good start yet, and he hoped that by the end of the week he would have answers to many of the questions that loomed in his mind. He finally decided to head upstairs to bed. He was careful to lock his bedroom door. He wasn't taking any chances of Muldoon wandering into his room in the middle of the night.

## CHAPTER THREE

### _Back in the Office_

MORRISON REACHED OVER and tagged the alarm button on his clock. He snatched his phone from the nightstand and saw that Muldoon had left him a text message about an hour ago. She had gone home to get ready for work. He breathed a sigh of relief and walked across the hall to his daughter's room. Muldoon had made the bed and folded Allison's pajamas. Morrison quickly showered, shaved, dressed, gathered his belongings, and headed into the office where he had a nine o'clock meeting with Captain Reese. If he were really being set up by someone, he wondered if the captain had any knowledge of it. Detective Hanson had told him to listen and read between the lines. He wasn't sure how or if he could get any useful information from the Captain about the reason behind his assignment to this case. In the very least, he needed to interrogate his neighbor when she returned to find out who knew that she was scheduled to go to the airport the night of the Paxton murder.

Traffic was slow, and Morrison had no time to visit his desk before heading into the conference room where Captain Reese awaited him. He spotted the Simmons murder case file sitting in front of Reese. Reese looked up as he set his coffee cup on the table. "Good morning, Detective. Grab a cup of coffee, and we'll get started." Morrison visited the coffee table in the corner of the room and poured a cup. He loaded it with creamer and sugar before taking a seat across from the captain. Reese pushed the case file over to Morrison. "Here's everything that Paxton had on the Simmons murder. Did you get a chance to talk to him yesterday?"

Morrison wiped his chin with a napkin. "Yes, I did, but I need to go back and speak to him further about a few things that I need to clear up."

"So, what is it that you need to know?"

"I just need some clarification on the sequence of a few things. He was pretty drugged up when I talked with him, and he was getting rather groggy. I decided to let him get some sleep and told him we would talk later." Morrison was being careful not to divulge information about the VHS tapes or anything in particular.

"Do you have any idea what the connection is between Simmons and Paxton?"

"No, Sir, I don't, but I want to review their case files over the past several years to see if there might be someone whom they both investigated that might want to retaliate." Morrison didn't want to mention that he suspicioned that his own wife was in danger also.

"That's a good plan, Detective. Be sure to check for any convicts recently released from prison who might have a grudge against those two. By the way, Officer Muldoon, who works in Internal Affairs, thought that there could be a possibility that Simmons and Paxton might have been involved in something shady and suffered an attack from someone they were working with."

"Actually, I spoke with Paxton about that, but he assured me that he didn't think Simmons was involved in anything dirty, nor was he. I think he's telling the truth. I met his family, and I seriously doubt that Paxton would be on the take in any way."

"Well, keep your eyes and ears open. You may be surprised by what you find. Don't assume anything."

"Yes, Sir, I'll keep that in mind."

"I probably don't need to tell you that the Chief is adamant that we solve these murders as soon as possible. These cases are becoming high profile due to multiple murders of police wives. That's why the FBI is coming tomorrow. You will be working closely with Agent Jennings. Jennings told me that there is also another agent who works for a private global agency that will be taking the lead on the investigation. The FBI has contracted his services. I'm not sure why they decided to bring in a private agency, but apparently they think they need the help. The agents will be here tomorrow morning to meet with you at ten o'clock. I have asked all officers to be here by nine o'clock for introductions. I want you to keep me in the loop with everything that is going on with these cases. The Chief is going to want reports at least once a week."

"I will do that, Sir. If there's nothing else, I'd like to get started reviewing this case file."

"No, that will be all for now, Detective. Good luck, and I hope you find the connection between Simmons and Paxton."

Morrison retreated to his desk with the case file. He needed to talk to Allison, so he went out to the elevator bank and took a seat on a bench to dial her number. "Good morning, Sweetie, sorry I didn't call earlier, but I didn't have much time. I had a meeting with the captain first thing. I wanted to be sure to talk with you this morning because I'm not sure how safe you are at your parents' place. I want you to take extra precautions whenever you go out." Allison was still perturbed that she had to leave town. The girls were fussy, and they were upset that grandma and grandpa weren't home. Allison had called the school to explain that she had to be out of town with the girls due to a family matter, and she was able to establish an online link for their assignments. Allison was upset and didn't want to talk long.

Morrison returned to his desk to review the Simmons file. Paxton had interviewed Officer Simmons and family members. No one had a clue why Simmons had been targeted. The case was fairly cold, and there were no other possible people to interrogate. The only plausible reason for the Simmons murder was that she was an officer's wife. There had to be a connection between Simmons and Paxton. Morrison called the records department to request access to all of Simmons case reports as well as Paxton's files. All records had been digitized about five years ago. They were password protected, and only limited personnel had access to the information. Police incidents and case information were indexed in several different ways for reference. Morrison was going to employ one of the analysts to review the files for the officers to see if any suspect was common to Simmons and Paxton. Temporary passwords would be assigned to the files for the analyst's access. Search algorithms would soon reveal if there was a connection due to any suspects that had been investigated by both officers at any time.

Morrison picked up his phone again to call the lab. Unfortunately, no one had begun to analyze the samples for the Paxton murder. He reminded them that this was a high priority, and he needed results as soon as possible. His next move was to request a warrant to disclose all telephone records for the Simmons family and the Paxton's to cross check any common telephone numbers. While he awaited the warrant, the analyst's findings, and the lab results, Morrison decided to request another interview with Paxton. He needed more information about the informant who had wasted Paxton's time while his wife was being murdered. He also wanted to discuss the VHS tape contents and what he and Muldoon had suspicioned about the fabrication of the rapes and mutilations. However, he wasn't going to disclose Muldoon's involvement.

Suddenly, Morrison's cell phone vibrated with an incoming call. It was Erin Muldoon. Morrison decided to let it go to voicemail. He didn't want to get sidetracked, and he didn't want Muldoon wasting his time. His phone vibrated again to alert him that he had a voicemail. Morrison checked the message. "Hey, Aaron, either you're busy, or you're ignoring me. I hope you're busy. I just wanted to thank you for allowing me to crash at your place last night and letting me use Amy's bed and Allison's pajamas. I wondered if you wanted to grab some lunch together today to talk about the cases. Give me a call when you get a chance." Morrison wasn't going to return her call. He didn't have time to deal with her, and he certainly didn't want her spending the night at his place again. He appreciated her input on the video tapes, but he was wishing that he hadn't shared that New Year's Eve kiss with her. He was trying to resist the nagging memories of the great sex that they enjoyed in high school.

The Paxton's had made it clear to Morrison that their door was always open to him. They wanted the murder solved as soon as possible, and they were willing to accommodate his schedule in every way. However, Horatio Paxton got perturbed when Morrison removed Paxton from his parents' house for an interview. Paxton's father had video and microphone receptors throughout the house, and he hoped to find significant information to put an end to the murderer's life. Morrison found Horatio Paxton to be presumptuous and naive, and it amused him. Unless one has had the opportunity to investigate a murder, it's difficult to appreciate the research, logic, and profiling necessary to be successful. Morrison wanted Paxton to be at ease during the interview. They grabbed a couple of burgers and sodas at a drive thru fast food restaurant and parked to have a discussion.

Morrison waited until they had finished their lunches before disclosing what he had observed on the video tapes. "Bobby, I appreciate you sharing the video tapes. I know it was a difficult effort on your part to share them to help solve these cases. I apologize that I had to witness certain events, but I think that you should know that I believe the videos were fabricated to a great degree. I know you watched the Simmons video, and the one that was left for you was nearly identical. I do not believe that the rape scenes nor the mutilation scenes were the actual murder victims. I don't think your wife was raped at all. I believe that the evidence was planted, and the murderer tried to make the scene appear that way." Paxton sobbed as he wiped his eyes and nose with his napkin. "I'm so sorry for your loss, but I believe you can rest assured that your wife was not sexually abused. I still need to pursue some more evidence to be sure. My suspicion is that she died of blood loss before anything was done to her. The videos were carefully orchestrated, and scenes were spliced to make them appear to be actual events. However, I'm not submitting them as evidence unless I absolutely need to do that."

Paxton tried to collect himself. "I appreciate that, Detective. I have had a very difficult time dealing with the possible atrocities that my wife endured."

"I understand that. In the very least of possibilities, it is still overwhelming. I need to know about the informant who wasted your time that night. How did you get notified that he wanted to meet with you?"

"I received a text on my cell phone that someone had information leading to the identification of the one responsible for the Simmons murder. I was sure that it was a burner phone. I responded that I was interested. Whoever it was wanted a thousand dollars for the information. I agreed, and he told me that he would meet me at Long Wharf. He said he would be waiting."

"What time did you get the first text message?"

"It's still on my phone." Paxton reviewed his text messages. "It was seven fifty-two PM. I drove to Long Wharf and got there about nine o'clock that night. I had a thousand dollars in cash from the police fund to pay informants."

"Did you meet face to face with him?"

"Yeah, but it was cold, and he had his face covered. When we made contact, he told me that he wasn't the informant, but he was there to meet me and take me to him. We walked for a while, and he told me to wait. He was going to bring the informant to me. He never asked for the money. I waited for about fifteen minutes, and he returned to tell me that the informant had gone to another location. He said that I would find him at Sargents Wharf Parking Lot, and he would be wearing a bright orange stocking cap. I drove over there and parked. I waited for about fifteen minutes before I got out and walked around to see if I could spot him. After about forty-five minutes, I gave up. I headed back home, and when I got there, my wife was in pieces on the dining room floor." Paxton broke down again. "I never should have left the house."

Morrison reached over and grabbed Paxton by the shoulder. "You had no way of knowing, Bobby. You were following a potential lead. Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault. We'll find this bastard and put him away. Due to the fact that two officers' wives have been murdered, the FBI is coming in tomorrow to review the cases. I'll be working with them, and I will keep you informed. I reviewed your file on the Simmons murder. It appears that you were very thorough. I don't see any more opportunity with that case. I'm going to have to rely on corroborating evidence between Simmons and your wife. The similarities are numerous, and once I get the lab results and forensics reports I'll know a lot more."

"Well, don't expect too much. The lab wasn't able to match any of the DNA from the sperm samples with possible suspects. Forensics found no other traces of foreign DNA, nobody knew anything, and I was basically at a dead end. That's another reason I was so eager to meet with the informant. So, tell me why you believe that the rape and mutilation on the video was someone other than the victim?"

"You said that you watched the Simmons tape. If you recall, there were no identifying aspects to the rape or murder. The scenes were shot at close range, and pubic hair and nipples had been removed to reduce identifying traits. There was no sign of a struggle during the rape, and it appears that the mutilations were possibly done to a cadaver. I think that's why the blood was drained from the victim." Morrison was trying to keep the focus on the Simmons murder. "It kept the scenes a lot cleaner and easier to make them appear more genuine."

"I see what you mean. I hope you're right. The thought of Carla being sexually molested just before her death has been haunting me day and night. I can't bear the thought of her suffering like that."

"Actually, Bobby, I think she just fell asleep from blood loss. Other than the trauma of having your home invaded and being tied up, I think that was the extent of her suffering. I'm sorry that you have to revisit all of this. We'll do everything we can. Let me get you home. You need to rest."

Morrison went straight home after taking Paxton back to his parents' residence. He wanted to update his board in his private room. There wasn't much to offer, but the lead for the anonymous informant appeared to be a dead end. Paxton couldn't identify the contact, and he never found the actual informant. Someone had set Paxton up to be away from home for enough time to execute the murder. According to Hanson, Morrison had been set up as well to go to the airport to take his neighbor for an awaiting flight. As preposterous as it appeared, Morrison was beginning to believe that Hanson was correct. This caused Morrison's suspicions of Hanson to increase. Was Hanson trying to create the crime of the century within the department before exiting to Vero Beach? Perhaps Hanson's involvement with Morrison was meant to throw him off track. Morrison pinned an item to his board with Hanson as a possible suspect. He also pinned a reminder to check with his neighbor to find out who might have known that she was going to the airport that evening. He put one last item on the board with a dead end, which was the informant with the orange hat.

Morrison stared at his board and shook his head as his frustration grew. He knew that it was too early. He needed the warrant to gain the telephone records of the Simmons and Paxton families. He needed the lab results and forensics to know the details of the body at the crime scene. He also needed to know if any intersections of suspects existed between Simmons and Paxton. If any intersections did exist, Morrison intended to determine if that intersection also was part of his own suspects. He was frustrated, he needed answers, and more than anything, he needed a drink.

Morrison left home and drove to O'Leary's bar. It was his second home, and Arty, the bartender, could be trusted with anything. It was mid-afternoon, and one seat remained available at the bar as Morrison sandwiched himself between two patrons. Live music wouldn't begin for another three hours, and he planned to be out of the bar by then. Arty was always drying a beer glass, but then again, he probably served more pints than any other bar in town. He approached Morrison after placing the glass into a tray. Morrison asked for a Guinness, and Arty handed him a menu. Morrison wasn't very hungry after having a burger with Paxton, but Arty had the best New England Clam Chowder in Boston. Arty placed a pint of Guinness in front of Morrison, and retreated to get a bowl of the chowder. Morrison was pensive and reticent as he toyed with the potatoes in his soup.

Arty held a beer glass up to the light to be sure that no spots remained. He glanced at Morrison and leaned forward. "You seem a little more frustrated than usual, Detective. I'm not prying, but I hope everything is OK. Are Allison and the girls well?"

Morrison looked up with consternation. "Yeah, thanks for asking, Arty. My family is fine. I just have a lot of unanswered questions at work. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day."

"I understand. By the way, Jamie is sitting at one of the tables in back. He's all alone if you want company."

"Thanks, Arty, I appreciate that. I think I will join him." Morrison slapped a twenty dollar bill on the bar top and headed into the back room. He spotted Jamie flirting with one of the barmaids. Morrison sauntered over and took a seat at the table. "Good lord, Jamie, are you still coming on to these waitresses?"

"Hey, go fuck yourself, Morrison. That's my god-daughter, you pervert."

Morrison chuckled. "Well, I see that you've been here a while today."

O'Toole shook his head. "Yeah, I'm sorry, Aaron, I took the day off. I didn't tell nobody. I just wanted to have a few drinks and clear my head."

"What's going on? Are you all right?"

"Oh, one of the informants that I introduced into the pipeline about four years ago ended up dead in the harbor. He was a great source of information, but apparently someone found out that he was informing for us. A fisherman spotted his bright orange cap floating in the water. They said it looked like he had been there a few days."

Morrison started to speak, but hesitated. Could this be the informant who had information for Paxton about the Simmons murder? If so, then maybe the incident at the wharf wasn't meant to waste Paxton's time. Maybe that informant did hold valuable information. "So, is there any idea who might have killed this guy?"

"Are you kidding? Most of these guys are druggies who hear things in places where people don't expect to be heard. Who knows how this guy died? He probably fell off a pier after an overdose of heroin."

"So, Jamie, when is the last time you saw this guy alive?"

O'Toole turned to Morrison with an annoyed look. "Geez, Aaron, I don't know, maybe four or five weeks. What the fuck does that matter?"

Morrison shook his head. "I don't know. I'm just making conversation." Morrison looked up at the barmaid and ordered another Guinness. Morrison wasn't naive. Whenever an officer introduced an informant into the information pipeline, it was with the understanding that the initiating officer took fifty percent of the informant's earnings. O'Toole didn't give a rip about the loss of the informant's life. He was lamenting the loss of income because this guy was a source of valuable information at a high price. O'Toole would soon be looking for a way to make up for the interrupted flow of cash. "So, Jamie, maybe we should request an autopsy on this informant. Maybe somebody wasted him. Wouldn't you like to know?"

O'Toole was flustered and shook his head. "No, no, we shouldn't do that. It doesn't matter, and it would only lead to trouble. He's dead, and that's that."

Morrison was now suspicious that O'Toole was aware that someone ordered the execution of his informant. If so, O'Toole was fearful about any investigations, which meant that O'Toole might have valuable information leading to the resolution of these murder cases. "Hey, Jamie, you've had a lot to drink, and you're fairly wasted. Let me drive you home. I'm fine, and I don't want you getting into any trouble."

O'Toole slugged down the rest of his ale. "You're right, Aaron. I apologize if I have been an ass this afternoon."

"No, no, Jamie, you're fine. I understand, really I do. I just want to get you home safely."

About two blocks from O'Toole's house, Morrison pulled over to the curb and turned off the car engine. He turned to O'Toole. "Jamie, I need for you to tell me the absolute truth. Are you involved in something that could get you into trouble?"

O'Toole gave Morrison an incredulous look. "What are you talking about?"

"Your informant is most likely related in some way to these murders. I don't want to uncover evidence that could implicate you in any way. Are you doing something illegal?"

"Fuck no, I'm not doing anything illegal! OK, I took money from the informant, but that's standard off-the-book procedure."

Morrison was nodding his head. "OK, OK, Jamie, I just didn't want to get blindsided and put a friend on the chopping block. I believe you, and I'm relieved. If you ever get into a compromising position, I hope that you will let me help you."

"Well, hell yes, I will. What do you take me for?"

"Don't get upset. In this line of work, it's often difficult to know who you can trust."

Later, Morrison paced in his private room at home. Random coincidence was the wild card that every investigator hated. It was the logical link with no payoff. Did O'Toole's informant get murdered because he had valuable information? Was he the only one to wear a bright orange cap? Did another person don his cap that evening? Was O'Toole more intimately involved in the murder cases than he could admit? Why did O'Toole not want an investigation into the informant's demise? More questions and no answers were mounting as Morrison poured another Bushmills Whiskey. Hanson had a lot of information, but Morrison was reluctant to confer with him. He didn't want to be dealing with the devil, and most of all he didn't want to get framed for anything by Hanson. It was bad enough that one couldn't trust the world at large, but it was quite another not being able to trust fellow officers. Being a detective imposed a depressing loneliness at times.

Morrison's cell phone buzzed. It was Muldoon, and he stared at his phone as it buzzed a second time. Morrison was too drunk to ignore her. He snatched the phone and took the call. "Hey, Erin, what's up?"

"Hey, Aaron, I didn't hear from you today, and I wanted to know that you were all right."

"Yeah, I'm good, but it has been a frustrating day. I stopped by O'Leary's for a couple of beers. I bumped into my friend, Jamie O'Toole, that you met at the party. He had some possibly interesting news, and it might relate to these cases."

"That sounds interesting. I'd like to come by and hear about it. I'll grab us something to eat."

"Uh, yeah, sure, that would be great, but no pizza tonight, OK?"

"Absolutely! I'll do something more healthy. I'll bring some chicken wings and fries."

Morrison realized that he had just made a stupid decision. He sometimes found himself in situations where he wondered how close he could get his hand to the flame without being burned. He was already beginning to step sideways as he wandered over to his liquor cabinet and poured another drink. He sat on the couch and waited for Muldoon. She showed up after about forty-five minutes with a bucket of wings and a bag of fries. She had another case of cold beer with her, and she took everything into the kitchen to get some plates and take the ketchup out of the fridge.

She looked over at Morrison as he stumbled into the room. "Whoa, Aaron, how much have you had to drink already? Here, sit down, and let me fix you a plate. You need to eat something." Muldoon took Morrison by the shoulders and helped him into a chair. She dished up ten wings and dumped a heap of fries onto a plate. She placed the plate and the ketchup in front of Morrison and poured him a beer. She took a seat with her own plate and began attacking a chicken wing as though she hadn't eaten all day. "So, what it is about these cases that you wanted to discuss?"

"Well, at this stage I'm getting frustrated. The more I search, the more questions I have, but no answers. I'm waiting for a warrant to disclose the telephone numbers of the Simmons and Paxton families. I haven't received any lab results yet, and I have an analyst who is looking for intersections of suspects in the case files for Simmons and Paxton. I also learned that an informant who asked to meet with Paxton about the Simmons murder, but never showed up, was found dead. I heard that they fished him out of the bay yesterday. My guess is that someone wanted to shut him up. The FBI is coming into the office tomorrow morning, and I don't have much to tell them."

Muldoon responded with a mouth full of chicken. "Yeah, I'm supposed to be there too. They asked for everyone related to the case to meet with them. I'm scheduled for eleven o'clock."

"The captain said that the FBI contracted a private agency to take the lead on the investigation. Have you ever heard of such a thing before?"

Muldoon shook her head as she chomped on her chicken. "No, usually those guys are extremely possessive of their cases. I've never known them to request help, especially from the private sector."

"Erin, I just found out today that the informant who wasted Paxton's time the night of the murder and was found dead in the harbor yesterday was initiated by Jamie O'Toole, the officer that you met who was with me at the party two nights ago. When I mentioned the idea of requesting an autopsy to Jamie, he seemed flustered and rejected the idea. I asked him if he was involved in anything illegal, and he adamantly denied that he was."

"Well, it sounds like he's afraid of somebody, but he's not about to tell you who it is. I have done a lot of investigations of officers, and believe me, this is fairly common. It's unlikely that you will get anything out of him." Muldoon noticed Morrison's empty glass, and she grabbed another beer to give him a refill. "When does your neighbor get back that you took to the airport the night of the Paxton murder?"

"She was flying to Atlanta to visit her daughter and grandson over New Year's Eve. I think she said that she was returning on the third, which is tomorrow."

"Wow, Aaron, you're going to be busy tomorrow. You have your neighbor to question, the FBI is coming in, you should have your warrant for the phone records, and the lab results will probably be ready soon."

"Yes, and I should have the analyst's report for any possible intersections of suspects between Simmons and Paxton."

"I would be glad to help in any way that I can, so don't hesitate to ask. After all, I'm on these cases too for Internal Affairs."

"I appreciate that, Erin. I'll let you know if I need any help. You're right, I'm going to be incredibly busy. It's feast or famine in this business, hurry up and wait. I probably won't be sleeping much in the next few days."

Erin wiped her hands and reached over to fill Morrison's glass again. "How is Allison doing at her parents' place?"

"She's still upset that I had her leave town. I guess the girls are giving her a hard time because their grandparents are in Florida. Allison was able to get online access to their school lessons, so she'll be helping them with that."

"Well, I'm here for you, no matter what you need. Just remember that." Muldoon glanced over at Morrison as he started to weave in his chair. "My god, Aaron, you're as drunk as I was last night." Muldoon went to the sink to wash the grease from her hands. She hurried over to Morrison and stood behind his chair as she began to massage his shoulders. "Oh, my god, Aaron, you are as tight as a piano wire. Let's get you over to the couch, and I'll help you relax." Muldoon put her arm around Morrison's waist and his left arm over her shoulder as she helped him to the couch. "Do you have any massage oil?"

Morrison squinted and looked up at Muldoon. "I don't think so."

"Wait here, and I'll check to see if Allison has something." Muldoon returned with a bottle of baby oil. "OK, take off your shirt, and lie down." Muldoon began unbuttoning Morrison's shirt and pulled it off of his body. She pushed him face down on the couch and rubbed some oil between her hands to warm it. She started with long, strong strokes up his back and over his shoulders. Morrison moaned with delight as Muldoon worked his tired muscles. "Oh, wow, Aaron, it looks like you've been needing this for a long time." She worked her way down to the small of his back and used finger pressure along both sides of his spine. After several minutes she helped him roll over onto his back. She rubbed more oil between her hands and massaged his chest with wide sweeping strokes.

"Oh, my god, Erin, that feels so good." Muldoon smiled down at Morrison as she continued to work his pectorals. She began unbuckling his belt. "Hey, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm going to massage your lower body. Relax, we have a long way to go yet." Muldoon pulled Morrison's pants from his legs and dropped them on the floor. "Roll over, and I'll start with the back." She helped Morrison turn face down, and she began kneading the backs of his thighs as he continued to moan. Her hands were getting a little high on the inside of his legs, and he noticed that she was making contact.

After about fifteen minutes, she rolled him over onto his back, and he noticed that she had removed her shirt. "Where is your shirt, Erin?"

"I took it off. I'm working up a sweat here. Relax, and I'll finish your legs." Muldoon continued to work the front of his legs, and Morrison continued to moan. She brushed against his underwear briefs a few times, but Morrison was trying to ignore it. Finally, Muldoon put the cap back onto the baby oil and went into the bathroom to wash her hands. Morrison tried to quickly dress as she was out of the room. Muldoon returned with a couple of beers and put her shirt back on. "There, that should make you feel a whole lot better."

"Thank you, that was really nice, Erin." Muldoon began to reminisce about their high school days, and they shared a few laughs over some of the amusing incidents. Finally, Morrison was beginning to nod off, and Muldoon took his beer from his hand and put it on the coffee table.

She knelt in front of Morrison and took his chin in her hand. "Hey, Aaron, you're starting to fall asleep. Let me help you get ready for bed. Come on." She pulled Morrison from the couch and put his left arm over her shoulder again as she held him around his waist. She carefully helped him step up the stairs and led him into his bedroom. "Don't pass out on me now." She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off of his arms. She reached down and unbuckled his belt once again. She tucked her fingers inside his underwear and began to pull downward.

Morrison grabbed her hands. "I can take it from here, Erin. It's time for you go home." Muldoon nodded and patted him on the chest before kissing his cheek. She didn't say another word before descending the stairs and locking the front door behind her. He took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. His hand had been incredibly close to the flame, but luckily he didn't get burned this evening.

## CHAPTER FOUR

### _Jennings and White_

COFFEE AND DONUTS were abundant as the officers began to congregate in the office before nine o'clock. Everyone had been invited to meet the agents who were coming in to review the case files for the murders of the officers' wives and make determinations as to how they wanted to proceed with the investigations. Key personnel who had been assigned to the cases would be interviewed by the agents. Captain Reese would be conferring with them at eight thirty. Morrison was scheduled at ten o'clock, and Muldoon was scheduled for eleven. Everyone had high hopes for success on the resolution of these murders. Many officers were apprehensive about loved ones, and some had hired protection for their families while they were away from home.

Morrison squeezed his way toward the food table and poured a cup of coffee. He doctored it up with lots of creamer and sugar. O'Toole pushed in beside him and chuckled. "Hey, Morrison, did you get any coffee in that cup with your cream?"

Morrison smiled. "I hate coffee, but I like the buzz. It's the only way I can tolerate this stuff."

Both officers found a place to stand where they could set their coffee and plates of donuts on a desk while they ate. Morrison spotted Captain Reese at the front of the room with the two agents. One was black as charcoal, and his body was chiseled like a Greek god. The other was a white man with one of the darkest tans that Morrison had ever seen. Morrison chuckled to himself as he thought about O'Leary's bar where they offered a drink called Black and Tan. The second thing Morrison observed was the impressive tailored suits that the men wore. He knew that both had to be well into the thousands of dollars. He wondered how much money these guys made as agents. The tanned guy was laughing with Captain Reese and grabbing him by the arm. What a suck up! Morrison was already suffering contempt for these prima donnas who waltzed in to take the credit for all of the hard work that the Boston police had done. Dark tans, tailored suits, and oozing with confidence, it sickened Morrison as he shoved another bite of donut into his mouth. He spotted Muldoon near the front of the room where the agents were standing. He could see that she was admiring their attire. Knowing her, she would have a date lined up this evening with one of them.

As the minute hand on the clock clicked into place at the top of the hour, Captain Reese gained everyone's attention. "Good morning, fellow officers! I have gathered everyone together this morning to introduce a couple of agents who are here to help us in our endeavor to solve the murders of our brothers' wives. We are all appalled by these crimes, and these agents are here to help. Give them a great Boston welcome." The officers clapped, and Reese continued. "I want everyone to cooperate in every way with these gentlemen. Whether you are assigned to any aspect of this case or not, these agents may need your help. Please contact me with any information that you might learn, and I will be sure that it is relayed to them. So, without further ado, I would like to introduce you to the agents who remain at our disposal until justice is served on these cases." The officers clapped once again.

The agent with the dark tan took the focus and introduced his cohort. "Good morning, officers. It is my pleasure to present to you one of FBI's finest agents. He has been in service for over twenty years, commanded hundreds of cases, and his success rate in solving violent crime is above ninety percent. Please welcome Agent Robert Jennings." More applause came from the officers. "Now, we realize just how odious we can be in your sight. We aren't ignorant concerning your previous dealings with agencies. I want you to know that we're not here to steal your glory. In fact, everyone who is instrumental in solving these cases will receive just rewards and recognition. We're here to help you, and we seek no accolades. With that thought, I will turn the floor over to Agent Robert Jennings." More applause filled the room.

Jennings paused a few moments. "Thank you, Agent White. I didn't really deserve that great of an introduction. All of you officers know that it isn't the successes that haunt us, it's the failures. We learn from our failures, and we hope to increase our successes. I don't want another failure, and I promise that I will do everything I can to bring this perpetrator to justice." More applause was offered as Morrison thought he might vomit. "Please allow me to introduce to you the most unique agent that I have ever had the pleasure to meet. Agent Jasper White works for an agency in the private sector. He has astounding attributes that I cannot even begin to explain. Please let it suffice for me to say that because Agent White is on this case, we are guaranteed a smashing success." Another crescendo of applause filled the room.

Captain Reese took the floor again. "Everyone, please have your fill of the donuts and coffee. I would hate to see them go to waste, but this is a Boston police precinct, and no donut is safe within these walls." A wave of laughter wafted throughout the room. Morrison found Muldoon among the crowd. "Can you believe this bullshit? These guys are trying to act like they are on our side."

Muldoon stuffed another donut into her mouth. "I don't know, Aaron. I've worked with my share of FBI, but these agents are different."

"So, you're falling for the dark tan and tailored suit. That doesn't surprise me."

Muldoon looked indignant. "What the hell are you talking about, Aaron?"

"I saw you eyeing that tanned agent. You'll probably be giving him a full body massage before midnight."

"Hey, fuck you, Aaron! How dare you say that about me. What I did last night was because I thought you could use some relaxation. I'm trying to be a good friend, but you obviously have your head stuck up your ass! Get away from me!" Muldoon weaved her way through the crowd of officers before being caught by Captain Reese.

"Officer Muldoon, are you OK? You look a little flustered."

"Yes, Captain, I'm fine."

"You're up for the eleven o'clock interview. These guys are the crème de la crème, if you know what I mean. You won't find a better team of agents, so I've been told. The Chief has high hopes for these two. Be sure to cooperate in any way that you can."

Muldoon didn't like the look in Captain Reese's eyes. "I'll do what I can, Sir. I have a limited amount of information."

"Well, these agents may need more than information." Reese squeezed Muldoon's upper right arm before moving on to talk with other officers. Muldoon closed her eyes and shook her head in disgust. Why were women constantly objectified as sex outlets? If it wasn't Morrison assuming that she would have sexual intentions with an agent, it was Reese who expected it. She had little hope of turning the tables. It was a man's world within the department, and she knew that she couldn't change it. Her father was a retired officer, and he had been so proud that she had decided to join the force. Obviously, Daddy was unaware of the advantages taken upon female officers.

Captain Reese took a seat in the conference room with Agents Jennings and White. White paced the room and busied himself with coffee, creamer, sugar, water, and anything that he could find to take his attention off of Captain Reese. Jennings began the conversation. "So, Captain Reese, it appears that you are basically stuck in the middle between a Chief, who is eager for answers, and a staff of detectives who knows basically nothing."

Captain Reese leaned forward toward Jennings. "I know this probably looks bad to you agents, but we really do have our best people on this. I think we have a great opportunity for success."

"We understand that your Chief plans to run for the mayoral candidacy in the next election."

"Yes, he did mention that at our New Year's Eve party the other night."

"So, tell me, Captain Reese, what are your intentions of becoming the next Chief of Police of the Boston Police Department?"

"Well, I guess I hadn't really thought about that." Reese heard Agent White chuckle as he paced the back of the room.

Jennings continued, "So, please tell me who assigned Detective Aaron Morrison to the Paxton and Reese murders."

"Well, that would have been me."

"And what was your rationale for assigning Detective Morrison to those cases?"

"He was first on the scene for the Paxton murder. Paxton was immediately put on medical leave, and Detective Morrison was the obvious choice. After all, we wanted to keep the knowledge of these cases as isolated as possible due to the prevention of copycat murders."

Jennings gave Reese a concerted look. "I see, and please explain why Detective Morrison was in the vicinity of the Paxton murder when he didn't reside anywhere near there. He had been off duty for hours."

Reese was scrambling for answers as he stuttered, "I, I, I, have no idea."

Jennings glanced at White who continued to pace the back of the conference room. White nodded, and Jennings continued, "Captain Reese, did it ever occur to you that Detective Morrison was being set up, and that his wife was the next intended victim?"

Reese looked incredulous as he glanced back and forth between White and Jennings. "Why, why, of course not! Why in the world would I suspect that Morrison's wife would be a possible murder victim?"

Jennings feigned ignorance as he shrugged his shoulders and turned the corners of his mouth downward. "Gee, Captain Reese, I don't know. Maybe because two officers' wives had been murdered, and the second was the wife of the first's investigating officer." Jennings put his nose close to Reese's and demanded, "You tell me!"

"Honestly, I never considered that. Paxton's murder was the second in a string of two. How was I to know that the next investigating officer's wife could be in danger?"

Jennings pressed Reese. "So, tell me, what would you have done if you were in Morrison's shoes? Would you have done everything you could to protect Trish, your wife?"

"I don't know, I guess, I suppose so. Are you trying to tell me that you think this is a string of murders based upon the transition of investigating officers?"

Jennings sat back in his chair. "I don't know, Captain Reese, what do you think?"

Reese was indignant. "What the hell is going on here? Do you think I'm a suspect in these murders?

Jennings glanced back to Agent White in the back of the room. "What do you think, Agent White? Is Captain Reese guilty in any way of these murders?"

White carefully made his way around the conference table to put his face a few inches from Reese. He gazed intently into Reese's eyes and studied carefully. Reese was frozen in his place. After a few moments, White stood upright and turned to Jennings. "No, Reese is entirely clueless."

Jennings smiled. "You're lucky, Captain Reese. We have no further need of you. You may go."

White and Jennings shared a few laughs in the back of the conference room. The coffee pot was empty, and Jennings offered to find a fresh brew for the conference room. White sat at the far end of the table as he pondered the interview with Captain Reese. He was taken by surprise as Detective Aaron Morrison entered the room. He looked up. "You must be Detective Morrison."

Morrison took a seat at the other end of the table. "Indeed, I am."

White smiled. "I appreciate a man who isn't late and not afraid to be offensively early."

Morrison leaned back in his chair. "It looks like you just got back from one hell of a vacation. Where did you get that suntan?"

"I don't take vacations, Aaron. However, I do spend a lot of time in the sun. Agent Jennings has gone on a mission to secure more coffee. Would you like a cup?"

Morrison slowly shook his head. "No, I think I've had enough for today."

White smiled, and retorted, "Perhaps you prefer a Guinness."

Morrison resettled himself in his chair. "I hope that wasn't meant to be a slur toward my heritage, Agent White."

White giggled profusely. "Good heavens, no, Aaron, but perhaps you would prefer a Black and Tan."

Morrison collected himself. "I don't understand your comments, Agent White."

"Oh, but I know that you do. You found amusement between Jennings and me as Black and Tan." Before Morrison could respond, White held up his right hand. "Don't bother, Aaron, no offense was taken. In fact, I found the thought amusing, but let's get down to business. You know full well that your wife is in danger, but all you did was send her to her parents' condo in Chicago."

Morrison threw up his hands. "Why does everyone know where my wife is?"

"Perhaps you're just too predictable, and face recognition software would reveal that Allison is in Chicago, but what if someone could do more?"

Morrison shrugged resolutely. "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

"I know for a fact that your wife wore red pajamas with white polka dots to bed last night in the seventeenth floor condo on Sheridan Road."

Morrison pushed himself upward in his chair. "I know that's bullshit, Agent White. You have no way of knowing that."

White sat comfortably in his chair awaiting his coffee. "Call your wife, Aaron. Call her right now. Ask what she wore to bed last night, and not only that, but when she took Amy back to bed after her nightmare."

Morrison jerked his arms from the back of his head. He intently dialed Allison's number. "Hey, Sweetheart, I'm heavily involved in an interrogation, but I need your help. Please tell me what you wore to bed last night." Morrison's countenance sank considerably. "And, did Amy need to be taken back to bed?" Morrison placed his phone on the table. "Goddammit, White, what are you doing to me?"

"Well, Aaron, whether you can believe it or not, I'm the best friend that you have in this world at the present time. At this point, I honestly don't know how much danger your family is in, but I am totally certain that I can protect them from any threats. However, I need your consent to get them out of Chicago. Even you will not know where they are. Do you trust me?"

"Fuck no, I don't trust you, White. For all I know, you are the perp behind these murders."

"Well, Aaron, I hope you don't waste too much time trying to link me with the murders. You have a lot to do today. You need to talk with your neighbor, you need to review the analyst's failure to establish a link between Simmons and Paxton, you need to retrieve your warrant to check the phone records for the families of Simmons and Paxton, and you need to review the lab results that show the DNA for the sperm samples are a match with the Simmons case."

"How the hell would you know about the lab results? They haven't been released yet."

"I know a lot of things, Aaron. I know you don't like me, but you desperately need me to help solve these cases."

"You're right, I don't like you, but I'm obligated to work with you."

White cleared his throat and looked up at Agent Jennings as he entered the room with a full pot of coffee. "Well, Detective Morrison, I think that's all we need from you at this time. You may go, but I will be in touch soon to discuss more details."

Morrison left the room in a rage. Jennings smiled. "Did you get what you needed?"

White tried to contain his giggle. "Oh, yes, and more."

It was now eleven o'clock, and Captain Reese ushered Erin Muldoon into the conference room to personally introduce her to Agents Jennings and White. After exchanging names and a few pleasantries, Captain Reese excused himself from the room. Agent White strolled over and closed the conference room door. He continued to slowly pace the room as Jennings scooted up to the table and opened a file. Muldoon sat in silence as Jennings perused the contents for a few moments. Jennings began, "I see that you are with Internal Affairs." Muldoon nodded in assent. "So, your interest in these cases pertains to the possible culpability of the two officers, Simmons and Paxton. You aren't involved in the resolution of the murders and finding the perpetrators."

Muldoon leaned forward. "Well, from an Internal Affairs perspective that may be true, but I'm willing to help in any capacity necessary to solve these murders." White continued to pace as he appeared to ignore their conversation. Muldoon continued. "Isn't one of the principal endeavors to find the connection between the two officers? My directive is to find that connection and determine if anything illegal transpired with either of them. Once we find that connection, it should all be downhill from there."

Jennings pondered for a moment. "What have you found so far in connection with the two officers?"

"Well, nothing yet, but we're just getting started. I have been reviewing the case files for the two murders and the interviews of the investigating officer."

Jennings reached into his briefcase and set two files on the table in front of Muldoon as White paced the room with his forefingers pressed against his lips. "Please take a look at these files and tell me if these are the case files to which you just made reference."

Muldoon took a few minutes to leaf through the files. She looked up at Jennings and nodded. "Yes, these are the files that I reviewed."

White stopped pacing and walked to the other side of Muldoon. He leaned on the table with both hands and addressed Jennings. "What do you think, Jennings? Can we trust Erin Muldoon?"

Jennings furrowed his brow and gave Muldoon a questionable look. "I don't know, Agent White, but I rather doubt it."

Muldoon looked shocked. "Why would you doubt that you could trust me?"

Agent White turned Muldoon's chair to face him. He glared deeply into her eyes. "Erin Muldoon, are you withholding information about these cases that is not found in these files?"

Muldoon was visibly flustered. "I don't understand. How would I have information that's not in the files? I haven't even done any investigating yet."

Jennings pounded his fist on the table. "Answer the question, Muldoon."

Muldoon gave Jennings a fearful look. White leaned closer and demanded, "Do you have any knowledge of these cases that is not contained in these files?"

Muldoon was nearly in tears. "No, of course not."

White glared intently into Muldoon's eyes once again. "Erin Muldoon, you are lying to me!"

A tear rolled down Muldoon's left cheek. "I don't understand. Why are you interrogating me this way?"

White knelt down and faced Muldoon as another tear fell from her eye. "I'm giving you one last chance, Erin. Do you know anything about these murder cases that is not contained in these files?"

Muldoon broke down and sobbed. "OK, OK, yes, I do know something that is not in the files."

White rose to his feet. He leaned on the table with both hands and addressed Jennings once again. "Well, Jennings, do you think that we can trust Erin Muldoon?"

Jennings replied, "Well, with the appropriate prompting, I believe we can."

White turned to Muldoon. "That will be all for now, Erin. I'll be in touch. I have much to discuss with you later."

Muldoon collected herself and wiped her eyes before leaving the room. Morrison spotted Muldoon as she stepped into the hall. He could see that she had been crying, and he hurried over to talk to her. She quickly walked toward the elevators. Morrison caught up with her. "What the hell happened in there?"

Muldoon was trying to hold back her tears. "They interrogated me intensely. Agent White asked if I knew anything about the cases that wasn't in the files. I told him, 'no,' and he insisted that I was lying."

"Oh, my god, Erin, that's the oldest trick in the book. He was bluffing, and you fell for it."

"No, Aaron, that man looked straight into my soul. I could see it. I could feel it. There was no use lying to him. He knew. He wasn't bluffing."

"So, what did you tell them?"

"I just admitted that I knew more than was in the files. He didn't even ask me what I knew. I'm sure he already knows."

"How could he? The only people who know about those video tapes are Paxton, you, and me."

"I don't know. He scares the shit out me, Aaron. He said that he had a lot that he wanted to discuss with me, and that he would be in touch. I don't want another encounter with that man." Suddenly, Muldoon shuddered. She had spotted Agent White staring at her from the hallway. She quickly stepped into an elevator and stabbed the button for the first floor. Morrison turned to see White retreating into the hall.

Morrison was frantic to find Agent White and confront him about Muldoon's interview. He thought he was right on White's heels as he rounded the corner, but he didn't see White. He poked his head into every room along the hall. He asked officers that he encountered, but no one knew White's whereabouts. The man had seemed to vanish into thin air. Morrison continued to search restrooms and other floors. Still, there was no sign nor knowledge of Agent Jasper White. As Morrison headed back to his desk, he met Captain Reese in the hallway. "Have you seen Agent White? I've been looking for him."

Captain Reese explained, "No, they left for the airport right after the interviews. If there's anything you need to convey to White, let me know, and I'll be sure that it gets forwarded."

Morrison shook his head. "No, it was more of a personal nature, but nothing important. Thanks, Captain."

Morrison sat at his desk in consternation. How could Agent White disappear so quickly? He must have taken the stairway to the first floor to leave for the airport. Nevertheless, Morrison was relieved that White had left town. He was sorry that he had accused Muldoon of pursuing White. He took his phone from his pocket and dialed Muldoon's number. She didn't answer. He wasn't surprised. He left a voicemail. "Hey, Erin, I want to apologize for what I said earlier. There was no call for me to say those things. I'm really sorry. Let me take you dinner tonight. Please, give me a call."

Morrison went out to the elevator bank to phone Allison. He wanted to know if she had come in contact with anyone who could possibly know what she wore to bed last night. When Allison heard what had happened in the interview with White, she was fearful. She saw no way that anyone would know what she wore to bed. Morrison suspicioned that there was a camera hidden somewhere in the condo. He had Allison looking high and low for it for the rest of the day. Agent White knew more than reasonably possible. He knew what Allison wore to bed. He knew about the tasks that Morrison needed to accomplish today. He knew about the lab results and the analyst's failure to find an intersection between Simmons and Paxton. He knew that Muldoon was lying about having additional case information that wasn't in the files.

As Morrison was heading back to his desk, he received a call from Muldoon. "Hey, Erin, I'm glad you called me back. Listen, I feel really bad about what I said to you this morning. You have been nothing but kind and understanding with me, and you didn't deserve that. To be honest, I think I was a little jealous when I saw you looking at Agent White. By the way, he already left town, so you don't need to worry about him. Can I take you to dinner tonight?"

Muldoon paused. "I appreciate the apology. You really were an ass. I thought you had a super busy day today."

"I do, but you're more important."

"Can I pick the restaurant?"

"Of course you can. It's the least I can do."

"OK, but this is going to cost you, Aaron. You really hurt my feelings."

"I understand. You pick the restaurant. Anywhere you want to go is fine with me."

"I'm in the mood for steak. Make a reservation at Mooo for eight o'clock tonight, and plan on a taxi because we won't be in any shape to drive."

"You got it! I'll pick you up at seven thirty. See you then."

Morrison's big mouth was about to cost him over five hundred bucks. He phoned the restaurant and made a reservation for two at eight o'clock. He needed to stop by the bank and get some cash. If Allison saw a charge at Mooo, she would demand answers. Morrison didn't relish the idea of keeping secrets from his wife, but he terribly mistreated Muldoon today, and he wanted to make up for it. Once again, he would be placing his hand dangerously close to the flame. If he were taking Muldoon to dinner tonight, he needed to get busy and review his reports and request telephone records for the Simmons and Paxton families.

Morrison started with the lab reports. He learned nothing more than what White had told him. White was also correct that the analyst who cross referenced the files between Simmons and Paxton found nothing in common. Morrison wasn't making any progress, and it frustrated him. He exercised his warrant for the telephone records and employed another analyst to research any intersecting telephone numbers between Simmons and Paxton. A link had to exist somewhere. Morrison just needed to find it. However, Morrison was aware that if any shady dealings existed with either Simmons or Paxton, they would use burner phones that couldn't be traced. He decided to go home and update his case board with the disappointing results from the analyst and the lab.

He wondered if his neighbor had returned, and he stepped out his front door to check if she was home. He quickly traversed the sidewalk three doors down and rang her doorbell. Much to his relief, she answered the door. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Denton. I wondered if you had a couple of minutes to help clear something up for me."

"Why certainly, Detective. Please, come in out of the cold, and I'll make us a cup of tea." She led Morrison into the dining room and had him take a seat while she put the teapot on the stove. Mrs. Denton had been widowed for nearly ten years. She had lived in her house for over forty years, and she was still very capable of living on her own. Morrison heard the teapot whistle, and soon Mrs. Denton placed a cup, saucer, and spoon in front of Morrison as the tea bag steeped in the hot water. She retrieved her own cup and sat at the table with Morrison. "So, what is it that you wanted to discuss, dear?"

Morrison spooned sugar into this tea. "Well, for starters, did you have a good visit with your daughter and grandson?"

"Oh, my, yes, we had a wonderful time. Thank you for asking. We got to take daily walks, which I really appreciated. It's so much warmer in Atlanta than it is here."

"Yes, it is. I was wondering who knew that you were flying to Atlanta that night. Did you discuss your trip with anyone?"

"Oh, Detective, I forgot to thank you for that ride to the airport. You just can't trust those taxicabs anymore."

"Well, that's what I wanted to discuss with you. I'm investigating a case, and one of my fellow detectives believed that your cab was canceled that night by someone."

"Well, now why in the world would someone do that?"

"That's what I would like to know. Who knew that you were scheduled to go to the airport that evening?"

"Well, obviously my daughter and grandson knew that I was leaving at that time."

"I realize that, Mrs. Denton, but did anyone else know? Are you on any type of social media where someone might have seen that you had an upcoming trip planned?"

"Oh, goodness, no, Detective. I don't even own a computer."

"Did you talk to anyone prior to your trip who would know that you were leaving?"

"Well, come to think of it, that nice police officer down the block came to shovel my walk one evening. I do remember talking to him that I was planning to visit my daughter and grandson."

"Are you talking about Jamie O'Toole?"

"Oh, yes, he's such a nice man. He shovels my walk regularly during the winter."

Morrison agreed, "Yes, he is a nice man. I've known Jamie for years."

"Yes, but why would someone cancel my taxi? Do you think that Officer O'Toole would do such a thing? Why would he do that?"

"Oh, Mrs. Denton, I doubt that Jamie had anything to do with your taxi. I'm not even sure if my colleague was correct that it was canceled. I was just curious. Well, thank you for the tea. I need to get back to work." Morrison rose from his chair, and Mrs. Denton walked him to the door.

She smiled up at Morrison as he stepped outside onto the porch. "You have a nice day, Detective."

"You too, Mrs. Denton."

Morrison didn't like the direction that his investigation was leading. O'Toole had been acting suspicious, and he knew that Mrs. Denton was leaving town that night. It was most likely O'Toole's informant who had wasted Paxton's time the night of the murder. Morrison doubted that O'Toole was behind the murders. Although, someone might have pressured him into being an accomplice. Morrison pondered his options. He could disclose all that he knew to O'Toole and see how he reacted. As much as Morrison hated to admit it, he could really use Agent White right now. White would know in an instant if O'Toole was lying. Morrison was trying to find a way to possibly bait O'Toole in a way that would cause him to take an incriminating action if he were guilty. Morrison decided to sleep on it and revisit his options tomorrow morning.

As Morrison updated his board, he realized that he had made a glaring error. It wasn't O'Toole's informant who wasted Paxton's time. It was the liaison who said that he was taking Paxton to the informant. Paxton never saw O'Toole's informant that night. Unfortunately, Paxton couldn't identify the liaison because he had kept his face covered. That actually removed any connection between O'Toole and Paxton having his time wasted. However, there was now a possible link to O'Toole and Morrison taking Mrs. Denton to the airport that night.

Morrison's phone buzzed. It was Detective Hanson. "Hey, Morrison, I have a table at O'Leary's pub. Come on over, and we'll have a chat." Morrison had plenty of time before his dinner with Muldoon. He decided to accept Hanson's offer and drove over to O'Leary's pub. He scanned the tables as he walked through the bar. Hanson was in the back sipping a pint of beer. Morrison took a seat. Hanson gave half a grin. "I hear those FBI agents grilled Captain Reese pretty good."

"I don't know. I never heard anything. I know that they were pretty rough on Muldoon. They made her cry."

Hanson broke into a laugh. "I can just picture Muldoon breaking down."

Morrison looked up at the barmaid and ordered a Guinness before turning back to Hanson. "I had an interview with Agent White. I can't stand that guy. He's arrogant, and he knows way too much information. He has a savage tan, but he claims he never takes vacations. You don't get a tan like that without spending a lot of hours in the sun every day."

"Yeah, I heard about him. I also heard that they were dressed to the hilt."

"You should have seen these suits they wore. They were obviously meticulously tailored. They had to cost over two grand a piece. How much do these guys make a year?"

Hanson shook his head. "They don't make that much. They're probably shaking someone down."

"I wouldn't doubt it. White is a fucking lie detector. He flustered Muldoon so badly that she's afraid of him. Luckily, they left town right after the interviews."

"So, have you found any connection between the officers whose wives were murdered?"

"No, unfortunately, not yet. My analyst never found any suspect connections between the two officers. I'm having phone records checked, but I doubt that will turn up anything either. Anything subject to suspicion would most likely be from an untraceable burner phone. The lab results were predictable. Someone has carefully covered his tracks." Morrison didn't want to mention O'Toole or the dead informant.

"Yeah, I've been keeping my ear pretty close to the ground, but I'm not hearing anything yet. Is it true that there was no sign of forced entry for either of these murders?"

"Yes, whoever this perp is gained access to the houses fairly easily. In fact, it's entirely possible that the victims let him inside. He could have been dressed as a police officer."

Hanson grunted. "Or, he could actually be a police officer."

"Yeah, that thought has actually crossed my mind."

"Well, watch your back, Morrison. If this guy can't get to your wife, he might settle for taking you out." Hanson slugged down the rest of his beer. "Well, I guess there's not that much to talk about. Thanks for coming over. I didn't want to have this conversation on the phone. I'll let you know if I hear anything." Hanson stood and peeled a few bills out of his wallet to cover the beers and the tip before he headed toward the door. Morrison slowly sipped his beer as he sat at the table. If nothing more happened to provide more evidence, Morrison was afraid that these murders would go unsolved. The captain had put significant pressure on Morrison to solve these cases. Morrison snorted as he remembered Agent Jennings guaranteeing the resolution of these murders. They can't pull evidence out of thin air. Morrison finished the last of his beer and headed over to the bank before going back home.

Morrison showered, shaved, and picked out some slacks, a shirt, and a jacket for the evening. He tucked eight hundred dollars into his wallet, and check himself in the mirror. He sat in his living room awaiting his taxi to take him to Muldoon's house. Morrison's guilt was mounting as he sat in silence on his couch. He couldn't believe that he had gotten himself into this situation. The taxi arrived, and Morrison locked his front door behind him. Once he had arrived at Muldoon's house, he asked for the cab driver to wait while he went to get Muldoon.

He rang the doorbell and gasped as Muldoon opened the front door. She looked ravishing. She twirled to give Morrison a complete view of the sleek, red gown that she wore. It was backless and erotically cut so far down her back that Morrison expected to see the crack of her ass. Her hair was fixed on top of her head, and her neck and shoulders looked divine. Morrison was speechless as his heart began to race. Muldoon coquettishly smiled and reached up to kiss the corner of Morrison's mouth. She handed him a glass of Jameson Whiskey and invited him inside. She looked over her shoulder as she led Morrison to the couch. "The cab driver can wait. I wanted us to have a drink and toast our evening together."

"My god, Erin, you look fantastic! You're beautiful!"

Muldoon cocked her head. "Why, thank you, Aaron. You don't look so bad yourself. First, I want to explain the rules. I don't want to discuss any work related topics tonight, and I insist that we turn off our cell phones so that we don't get interrupted." Morrison nodded and pulled out his phone to turn it off. He wasn't expecting any calls, and he had already talked with Allison earlier. Muldoon extended her glass, and Morrison clinked his glass to hers. "Here's to a great friendship." Muldoon slugged down her whiskey and waited for Morrison. He took two gulps and put his glass on the coffee table. "Now, let's go make up for the nasty things that you said to me this morning."

Muldoon held Morrison's hand all the way to the restaurant. Morrison's guilt was dueling with the passion that he felt for Muldoon. She looked irresistible this evening, and he was beginning to feel the burn from the flame that he taunted too many times. Muldoon insisted on another toast of Jameson Whiskey while they perused the menus. Muldoon was in the mood for beef, and she chose the large Bone-in Aged Sirloin with Au Poivre sauce and a side of onion rings. Morrison was looking at prices rather than entree choices, and he tried to keep the bill reasonable. However, he knew that Muldoon would compensate with liquor orders. Muldoon ordered another drink as they awaited their entrees. She leaned back in her chair with her whiskey and flirtatiously smiled at Morrison. "You know, Aaron, this is the first real date that we have ever had together."

Morrison rebutted, "It's not a date, Erin. I'm married, remember? We're just two friends having dinner, and I wanted to make it up to you for the things that I said this morning."

Muldoon smiled. "Do you realize that you have been with me every evening, and one entire night, since Allison has been gone?"

"Yes, but the last two nights were related to the murder cases. Good lord, Erin, if Allison ever found out she would never trust me again."

"Relax, Aaron, Allison doesn't need to know anything. I knew you long before you ever met her. So, do you miss her?"

"I don't know, I guess, I haven't really had a chance to think about it. I've been too busy. I'm just glad that she's safe at her parents' place."

"Do you ever think about our days in high school?"

"No, not much, except for this week because you have been around more than ever."

"Well, I think about them all the time."

"Erin, you need to find a good man."

"Oh, really, because this morning you admitted that you felt jealous when I was looking at Agent White, when in reality I was just examining his tailored suit. I don't think you could handle seeing me with another man."

"That's not true. Well, as long as it isn't with White. I can't stand that guy."

"Well, trust me, that would never happen. He's too creepy."

The waiter served their entrees, and Muldoon concentrated on her steak as Morrison refilled their wine glasses. Morrison grimaced as he viewed Muldoon's hunk of beef. "How can you eat that stuff raw?"

Muldoon looked up as she chewed. "It's not raw, Aaron. They seared the outside."

"Yeah, but the inside isn't even warm."

"That's the way I like my beef. Just kill the bacteria on the outside, and I'm ready to go."

Morrison shook his head as he cut into his New York Sirloin. At least his was cooked. Dinner was excellent, and Muldoon wanted to share the Mooo Sundae with Morrison for dessert. She ordered the most expensive cognac on the menu for an after dinner drink, and Morrison was glad that they were taking a cab homeward.

Muldoon had Morrison settle up for the cab and invited him in for a drink. She put her dog, Rex, in his pen for the night and returned to the living area with a couple of Jameson Whiskeys. "Thanks for the excellent dinner, Aaron. That was great! It almost makes up for your insults this morning." Muldoon kicked off her shoes and sat next to Morrison on the couch.

Morrison glanced over at Muldoon. "Almost?"

Muldoon set her drink on the coffee table and put her arms around Morrison's neck. She sweetly kissed him on the cheek. "I want you to spend the night."

Morrison pulled Muldoon's arms from around his neck. "No, Erin, I can't do that."

Muldoon looked disappointed. "I'm not expecting sex, Aaron. I just don't want to sleep alone tonight. We had such a great evening, and I want to wake up with you in the morning."

"I'm not doing that, Erin."

"So, this is the extent of your remorse for the awful things that you said to me this morning?"

"No, this is the beginning of my commitment to my wife. I don't think you and I should see one another outside of the office anymore. I'm calling a cab."

Muldoon grabbed his arm. "Wait! Please, not yet. I'm sorry, Aaron. Let's have one more drink. I promise not to bother you again. I'm not trying to come between you and Allison. Here, I'll call a cab, and when it arrives, you can leave. I just want to have one more drink with you." Muldoon pulled her phone from her purse, turned it on, and called for a taxi. "I'm sorry, Aaron, I have pushed you too far. I was serious about not expecting sex tonight. I have enjoyed the evenings that we have spent together, but we're just friends. I never meant for it to be anything more. I'm sorry I gave you the wrong idea."

Morrison shook his head. He was relieved that a cab was on the way. Muldoon poured them one last drink and looked soulfully into Morrison's eyes. Morrison sighed. "Erin, I care a lot for you. You look incredible tonight, and as much as I love my wife, I'm really not so sure that I could resist you. Our New Year's kiss has been haunting me ever since that night. The reason that I don't think we should see one another anymore is because I don't trust myself. No more pizza, no more chicken wings, and no more dinners together. We shouldn't be at one another's homes. Let's just keep our relationship professional from now on."

Muldoon nodded. "I understand." Morrison and Muldoon finished their drinks in silence. The taxi pulled in front of Muldoon's house, and Morrison rose from the couch to put his coat on. No hugs, no kisses, not even a handshake was shared as Morrison let himself out the front door. He slid into the cab with a sigh of relief. He needed to get back on track. He was sorry that he had let things go as far as they did. The investigation wasn't going well, and he wasn't sure what his next move should be. The cab pulled in front of Morrison's house, and he paid the driver. The cab pulled away from the curb as Morrison walked toward his house. He spotted O'Toole sitting on his porch steps. O'Toole stood in exasperation. "Aaron, where in the hell have you been?"

"Jamie, what are you doing out here in the cold?"

"I've been waiting for you for over an hour. No one could reach you. I was afraid that you might be dead. You haven't answered any calls or texts." Suddenly, Morrison realized that his cell phone was still turned off. O'Toole was blinking back tears. "Aaron, your sister, Janette, was murdered tonight. Where were you?"

## CHAPTER FIVE

### _Muldoon and White_

THE NEXT MORNING, Agent Jennings and Captain Reese sat at the conference table with the door closed. Reese was uncomfortable due to the interview that he had with Agents White and Jennings two mornings ago. Reese reluctantly asked, "Will Agent White be joining us today?"

Jennings was reviewing the case report for the murder of Jannette Morrison. He looked up momentarily to reply, "No, Agent White prefers to work behind the scenes. I doubt that you will see much of him on this project. I will be the principal liaison with your department for these cases." The two men sat in silence at the conference table as Jennings finished reviewing the report. Finally, Jennings closed the file, pushed it forward on the table, and leaned back in his chair. "We don't want you to endanger any more of your officers. No one on your force is to be assigned to this case. The FBI will handle all investigations from now on, and I suggest that everyone who has been involved use extreme caution with the safety of their families. The Morrison murder case deviates significantly from the other cases, and at this point I'm not sure if it isn't meant to appear as a copycat murder."

Captain Reese leaned forward. "Yes, I realized that. The blood was not drained from the body. There was a very small trace of semen at the scene, but not copious amounts. However, the sexual assault and mutilation do agree. She was violently, sexually assaulted in her throat, and her head was severed. The killer left the murder weapon lying on top of a portrait of the victim with the blade pointing toward her throat. It appears that this third murder was more impulsive and done in considerable haste."

"Yes, Captain, on the surface that is what it seems, but I believe that the deviation from the other two murders leaves more of a message. I believe it was deliberate and possibly indicates the murderer's frustration of not being able to make Detective Morrison's wife the third victim. When the forensics and lab results are complete we will have a better understanding if these cases are related. I assume that you put Detective Morrison on medical leave."

"Yes, of course, it's standard procedure. He has been relieved of his duty with full pay until further notice. In addition, he also must attend bereavement counseling from an accepted psychologist. He flew to Chicago to accompany his wife and children back to Boston for his sister's funeral. I'm sure that you will want to speak with him about the night of the murder when he returns." Jennings made no comment and began to review the case file a second time. "By the way, I believe that Internal Affairs still has Erin Muldoon assigned to the Simmons and Paxton cases."

Jennings glanced up. "I'll take care of that. Internal Affairs will be relieving her of those cases today."

Muldoon's cell phone rang mid-morning. She didn't recognize the number and took the call. It was Agent White. "Good morning, Erin, it's Jasper White. I want to apologize for upsetting you the other morning. I would greatly like to make amends. I have scheduled a lunch for us both at my hotel. It is imperative that I speak with you today."

Muldoon's heart sank. She couldn't refuse the invitation. She was obligated to work with Agent White. "I appreciate your apology, Agent White. Where are you staying?"

"Oh, please, my friends call me Jazz. Meet me at noon in the lobby of the Boston Harbor Hotel. I'll see you then." White hung up the phone. Muldoon took a deep breath. She had no idea what to expect from White. He terrified her.

Within moments, the Deputy Superintendent stopped by Muldoon's desk to inform her that she had been relieved from the Simmons and Paxton cases. When she questioned the reason, the superintendent dismissed her question and left. She spent the rest of the morning finishing the paperwork to close the files for the Simmons and Paxton cases. Now that Morrison's sister had been murdered, it lessened the likelihood that there was something nefarious brewing with Simmons and Paxton. She was sincerely hoping to reopen the case on Detective Hanson, but so far he hadn't provided anything worth investigating. If the only thing she did the rest of her career was to put Hanson away, she would consider it all worthwhile.

Muldoon had no chance to talk with Detective Morrison, and she felt horrible that she had insisted that Morrison turn off his phone during their date. She then began to realize that everyone would know about her evening with Morrison once he was interrogated. That started her worrying that Morrison's wife, Allison, might find out about the evening Muldoon had spent with her husband. She tried to rationalize that they had not stepped over the line. Morrison was not unfaithful to Allison. Granted, Allison would be furious if she knew all that transpired since she had been in Chicago, but Muldoon never intended for her to know. She pondered whether or not she would have crossed the line if Morrison had made advances on her. She wasn't sure. She had left that door open, but he didn't walk through it.

Muldoon's heart began to race as she checked her phone for the time. She needed to depart for the hotel where Agent White would be waiting. She found White sitting on a couch in the lobby as he amused himself while he observed people passing through. He readily spotted Muldoon and arose from the sofa. As he approached, he extended both hands. Muldoon reached out and shook his right hand. White chuckled as he held Muldoon's right hand and stepped beside her. He put his left hand on her back as he led her to the entrance of the hotel restaurant. She was already very uncomfortable and couldn't wait to break physical contact with him.

The hostess promptly led them to a window table, and White pulled the chair out for Muldoon to seat her. He then took his seat across from Muldoon and smiled. "I'm ordering a drink. Would you like one?"

Muldoon pursed her lips. "I'm on duty, Agent White, and I can't drink alcohol."

White raised both hands. "Oh, my goodness, Erin, I need to get you accustomed to me. First, call me Jazz. Secondly, you work for me the rest of this day, and I say you can have a drink. If you need for me to call your captain to confirm, then I will gladly do so. I want you to enjoy your afternoon."

Muldoon shook her head. "No, that won't be necessary, but what do you mean that I work for you the rest of the day?"

"I have much to discuss with you, Erin. It's going to take a few hours, and I want to clear the air between us. I'm sorry that I upset you during our interview, but I honestly didn't know what it was going to take to get you to tell me the truth." White paused as he ordered her a double Jameson. He chose the Woodford Reserve.

Muldoon implored, "How did you know that I knew more than was in those case files?"

White smiled. "I'll reserve that answer for later. For now, we need to discuss these murder cases. I know that you and Aaron are concerned about Detective Hanson's involvement. Aaron was suspicious if Hanson had any involvement in the murders, and Aaron's not sure that he can trust him."

"Hell no, we can't trust him. I nearly had him on a racketeering and murder charge a few years ago."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

Muldoon slugged down her double Jameson in front of the waiter and asked for another. She continued. "Hanson is creepy. While I was at Aaron's house reviewing the murder cases, I had him call Hanson to see what he wanted. Somehow, Hanson knew that I was there and brought a pizza. He even knew that there was no pepperoni on the pizza."

White glanced over at Muldoon and smiled as he sipped his Bourbon. "Actually, Detective Hanson isn't much of a mystery. He has several private investigators that he employs from time to time. He had you tailed to the pizza place that night. He knew what you ordered. He has been watching you since you tried to indict him on racketeering charges."

"Oh, really, and how can he afford to do that?"

"Well, he has been fairly successful as a racketeer." White began to chuckle.

"And how do you know all of this? You just got to town a few days ago."

"There's a lot you don't know, Erin, and it's best that you don't."

"If you know that Hanson is dirty, and you can prove it, you are obligated by law to disclose it."

"Well, I'm not affiliated with any law enforcement agency, so I really don't have to disclose anything. You should be glad. Otherwise, I would have to disclose your marijuana stash that you keep hidden in your underwear drawer."

Muldoon's eyes widened. "How in the hell would you know about my underwear drawer?"

White smiled over at Muldoon. "Erin, there's precious little that I don't know about you. However, we need to enjoy our lunch. Much of our discussion must be done in private. We can go up to my room." White saw the look on Muldoon's face. "Don't worry, Erin, I'm not going make a move on you. We can keep the door open, but I don't want anyone to hear what I need to ask."

White ordered a full bottle of Jameson Whiskey to be sent to his room. He then escorted Muldoon to his room on the sixteenth floor. As White promised, he left the door open, and soon the bottle of whiskey was delivered. He served Muldoon a glass and had her take a seat. White took a seat several feet away to help Muldoon relax. Muldoon gestured toward White with her glass. "Aren't you going to have a drink?"

"Well, I'm not much for Irish Whiskey, but on second thought, I believe I will." White rose to pour himself a glass.

Muldoon was getting fairly inebriated. "So, tell me where you got that outrageous suntan."

White gave a brief chuckle. "That's another answer that I'm reserving for later."

"Why won't you answer any of my questions, Agent White?"

"Well, first of all, you should call me Jazz. Secondly, you are asking these questions too soon. I will answer them later."

"So, what should I be asking right now?" Muldoon was perplexed and frustrated. She glanced around the room. "Where the hell is your suitcase?" She began searching closets and drawers. "You aren't staying here, are you? Who are you staying with?"

White repositioned his body in the chair. "Sit down, Erin, and have another drink. There's something that I want to discuss with you." Muldoon gave him a suspicious look as she took her seat and filled her glass. "You have been living in the house where you grew up as a child ever since your father passed away last year. He had been retired from the Boston police force for two years. Your mother expired from cancer when you were sixteen. You have no siblings, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and the officers on the Boston police force are basically your family except for your dog, Rex."

"How do you know all of that? Have you been checking up on me? Why would you do that?"

"Well, Erin, I believe that you are in an excellent position to come and work for me at the agency."

Muldoon threw her head back. "Ha! Why in the world would I work for you?"

"First, and foremost, I believe that I can trust you. Secondly, you would be financially independent for the rest of your life. In addition, I think that you would enjoy the work, not to mention that you would learn things that you never thought possible."

"Well, that's interesting, Agent White, because I don't think that I could trust you. Why are you interested in me?"

"You're intelligent, you learn fast, you're young, in good shape, and you are a beautiful woman."

Muldoon squinted her eyes at White. "Are you hitting on me?"

White broke into laughter. "Oh, Erin, if I were hitting on you, you wouldn't need to ask. Believe me, I could use someone like you on my team. All I can tell you is that you would have an unlimited expense account to buy or do anything that you wanted without exception. I know that's hard to comprehend, but it's true. You can live anywhere in the world that you want as extravagantly as you like, and you will be taken care of for the rest of your life."

Muldoon squinted again. "OK, so what's the catch?"

"Well, the catch is that I would basically own you, but I'm a reasonable man. You would need to undergo a year's training at one of our facilities. Once you graduate, you will be fluent in at least six foreign languages, and you will have an in-depth knowledge of poisons, antidotes, torture and assassination techniques, hand to hand combat, survival skills, and your physical strength will be increased by fifty percent. Once I put you into service, you will get to see the whole world from a very unique perspective. I don't need an answer right away. In fact, I can wait until you get tired of substandard pay because you are a woman, and you get passed over for several promotions that you deserve. Here's my cell phone number. Don't lose it." White reached out and handed Muldoon his business card.

Muldoon leaned forward in her chair and studied the card for a moment. "This is just a personal card. It doesn't show the organization that you work for."

"The agency is top secret. They deny their own existence. The only person that you will ever see once you are put into service is me. Agents own nothing. You can purchase anything you want with no exceptions. You won't receive a paycheck, and you won't pay any taxes. You will drop from sight, and no one will know your whereabouts or your activities. You could literally get away with murder."

"This sounds too incredible to be true. You're making this up, aren't you?"

"No, I am absolutely telling you the truth. I want you on my team."

"So, you're telling me that I could buy the most expensive car, and I could live in a huge mansion anywhere in the world?"

"Absolutely! There are no limits, and no questions are asked. The agency makes money faster than you can spend it."

"OK, so how does this agency make all of this money?"

"I'm afraid that I cannot tell you any more than I already have unless you commit to the agency. Just realize that once you do, there's no turning back. You can't quit the agency."

"What if I wanted to get married and have a family?"

"You can do anything you want. Your family would be protected with a security level that rivaled the President of the United States. I will admit that this is a dangerous job, but the agency would equip you in every way. In addition, I have much to show you about some of my own capabilities."

Muldoon was pensive as she sat in silence. "So, you're telling me that you have an unlimited expense account?"

"That is correct, Erin, I do."

"OK, Agent White, I need for you to prove this to me. Buy me a Lamborghini."

"I would be happy to do that if it will help you make a decision. Just realize that since you aren't an agent, you will have to pay the necessary taxes on the vehicle as a gift. Then again, if you decide to become an agent that's rather moot because the agency will erase your identity. You can keep the car without any penalties." White pulled out his phone to check for dealerships in the area. "We're in luck, Erin. There's a dealership about twenty miles from here as the crow flies. We can go over there right now and purchase a car for you."

"I hope you know that I am not bluffing. Let's go! I have to see this."

"OK, you drive, Erin, and I'll give you the directions."

Two hours later, White followed Muldoon to her house as he drove her car behind her brand new red Few-Off Lamborghini. Muldoon was in a daze as they settled into her kitchen with a couple of beers. "I can't believe it. I think I'm dreaming. You paid cash for that car, and no questions were asked."

White smiled. "That's the way it works. Once you become an agent, you will be given an account number. All you need to do is provide the account number and then key in the security code for anything that you want. As crazy as this may sound, it is an ingenious way to keep agents loyal. Once you have unlimited funds and protection, you have no reason to leave the agency. All I ask is that you remain responsible with your benefits. I have seen some ugly behavior from agents, and I won't tolerate immorality and recklessness. The agency doesn't care, but I do."

"I still have more questions. If I decided to live in Italy, and I had an assignment in the United States, do I just purchase plane tickets to go wherever I need? If my identity is erased, how can I pass the security for flying commercially?"

"That's a great question, Erin. You will have a secured identity via the agency to travel anywhere at anytime, but the agency maintains all types of transportation all around the world. You would be utilizing agency jets, helicopters, and limousines to travel. However, I have some unique capabilities that I hope to show you someday soon."

Muldoon's jaw dropped. "Oh, my god, Jazz! I just realized that I don't have any insurance on this car, nor can I afford it."

White amusingly chuckled. "Don't worry, Erin, the car belongs to you, but I purchased it through the agency. The agency holds the insurance for the car and all liability."

"I'm sorry, Jazz, but all of this is just beginning to sink in. I thought you were bluffing about the expense account. I can't afford the taxes on this car. We need to take it back."

"Does that mean that you are rejecting my offer?"

Muldoon sighed. "I don't know." Muldoon arose from her chair and started pacing the kitchen after she retrieved two more beers for her and White. "If I said, 'yes,' how soon would you want me to start?"

"I would want you immediately."

"But what about my house? What about my notice to the department?"

"Erin, you can do whatever you want with the house, and the department would be handled by the agency. If you want to liquidate the house, the agency will handle it. They will take care of all of your needs. It's worry free."

"So, you're telling me that if I agree right now that Erin Muldoon will cease to exist today?"

"In essence, that is true. However, according to my needs and intentions I would have you retain your identity until I solve these murder cases."

"I don't understand. What do the murder cases have to do with me working for you?"

"I'm sorry, Erin, but I can't tell you that unless you agree to come work for me. By the way, I'm not saying this to sway your decision, but Aaron told Allison about everything that happened while she was away."

"You've got to be kidding me! How in the world would you know that?"

"I have to reserve that answer until later, once again. I just wanted you to know that you shouldn't attend Janette's funeral if you don't want to be humiliated by Allison in front of everyone."

"Oh, my god, I can't believe this is happening!"

"Come work for me, Erin. You won't regret it." Just then, White's phone rang. "Yes, Jennings, what do you need?" White's brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "They can't do that. They have overstepped and interfered with a federal investigation. Make sure that they don't release the body. I need to examine it, and I will need to interrogate the suspect. I'll be there as soon as I can." White turned to Muldoon. "Well, Erin, I hate to cut our day short, but I am going to have to leave. Jennings just told me that the forensics team found skin underneath Janette Morrison's fingernails, and the DNA matches a rape convict who was recently released from prison."

Erin was pleasantly surprised. "Well, it looks like the case is solved."

"No, Erin, I can guarantee that it is not. I wish I could take you with me, but it's too early."

"You mean because I've had too much to drink? I can keep my mouth shut. I'll call a cab."

"No, it's not that. I have a plan, but you still need to make a decision, and I need for you to sober up before you do. May I use your restroom?"

"Oh, sure, it's right around the corner, the first door on the left."

White disappeared into the bathroom. Muldoon waited for several minutes before becoming concerned. She knocked on the bathroom door. "Jazz, are you OK?" There was no answer, and when Muldoon opened the door, the room was empty.

Captain Reese and Agent Jennings were in a heated argument. Jennings lashed out, "You had no right to release that information and alert the Chief of Police that you had apprehended the murder suspect. This is no longer your case."

"It was our case when it happened, and it was our lab and forensics team that uncovered the evidence of the DNA that they found under the victim's fingernails. We have him in custody, and he has deep fingernail scratches on his hip. This is a slam dunk, Agent Jennings. The Chief is holding an emergency press conference within the hour."

Jennings rebutted, "We are taking the body of the murder victim into FBI custody as well as the suspect. Your findings are inconclusive."

Reese was indignant. "Oh, really, and what about all that malarky that you agents didn't care who got the credit. You're just like all the rest of them."

"This has nothing to do with credit, Captain Reese, it has to do with a glaring error that you are too short-sighted to see."

Reese and Jennings turned as Agent White entered the room. "Well, from Captain Reese's red face I'd say you two have been in a heated argument." White turned to Reese. "Captain, no one is trying to steal your glory here. In fact, we're trying to prevent you from having egg all over your face. You have jumped to conclusions. I had a meeting with the forensics team, and they walked me through their findings. I needed to point out to them that the skin beneath the fingernails didn't go deep enough to be collected by scratching. Those pieces of skin were planted under the victim's fingernails. In addition, the semen samples didn't match the suspect."

Reese pounded the table. "That's ridiculous, Agent White! The suspect even has scratch marks on his hip where she clawed him while he was throat fucking her. He obviously planted all of that semen at the crime scenes."

"I realize that Captain, but I can assure you that it wasn't Janette Morrison who scratched him."

"How in god's name would you know that?"

"Well, to be sure, I need to see the suspect's scratch marks, but I'm willing to bet that they are far deeper than Janette Morrison's clipped nails could cause. You need to alert the Chief to cancel that press conference. Otherwise, he's going to look very foolish by tomorrow afternoon."

Reese stormed out of the room. Jennings turned to White. "I knew things would heat up, but I didn't suspect it to be so early."

"Well, we have the necessary authorization. Come on, let's take the suspect into custody and interrogate him ourselves."

The suspect, Gregory Allen Cravens, was transported to the FBI headquarters in Chelsea for questioning. Jennings and White entered the private room where Cravens was being held and dismissed the officer who was standing guard in the room. White offered, "Can I get you anything, Mr. Cravens?"

"Yeah, I could use a non-filtered Lucky Strike right about now."

White chuckled. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cravens, but this is a non-smoking facility. Could I get you a cup of coffee or a soft drink?"

"Hey, don't play good cop bad cop with me. It ain't gonna work. I didn't kill nobody."

"Well, Mr. Cravens, I'm not a cop, so I can't play a good one or a bad one. I work for an independent agency, and I don't want to see you railroaded for a crime that you didn't commit, but I need your help. I need for you to show me those scratch marks on your hip and explain how they got there."

Cravens wrinkled his brow and squinted. "How do you know I didn't commit those murders?"

White sighed. "There are several reasons. For one, you don't fit the profile of the murder suspect, but I don't have time to explain everything. Let me see those scratch marks." Cravens reluctantly pulled his prisoner trousers down to show White the four deep, scabbed marks in his hip. White studied the wounds for a moment. "Thank you, Mr. Cravens, that's all I really needed to see. Tell me, where were you the night of the fourth?"

"I was watching TV all alone in my apartment."

"How did you get those scratches."

"I'm taking the fifth. I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me."

"Mr. Cravens, I'm here to help you. Please answer the question."

"Yeah, and if I tell you I was with some hooker, you're going to arrest me for soliciting a prostitute, but she solicited me."

"Mr. Cravens, I'm not going to arrest you for soliciting a prostitute. Where can I find her?"

"I don't know. I ain't never seen her before. I was at the corner of Lagrange and Washington, and this hooker comes up to my car and offers me a real deal. She wasn't bad lookin' neither, so I accepted, and she got into my car. We parked in an alley, and she started giving me a blow job. Next thing I know, she's digging her nails into my side. I was about to wallop the shit out of her, and she pulled a gun. She got out of the car, and she never even collected the money."

"Do you remember what time it was when she left your car?"

"I'm guessing it was around seven o'clock that night. It wasn't late."

"Why were you at Lagrange and Washington streets?"

Cravens looked back and forth at Jennings and White. He gave a sigh. "I got a call from some guy for a good deal on some weed, and I was headed over to his place make a score."

"Did you ever get to his place?"

"Yeah, but when I did, nobody there knew nothin' about him or any weed."

White slapped his thighs. "Thank you, Mr. Cravens. Nothing about that story surprises me. We are releasing you into FBI protective custody. We will have an agent escort you to your home to get whatever you need. We need to relocate you to a safe place until we find whoever has tried to frame you. Your life is in imminent danger."

Jennings and White reviewed the interrogation for the next half hour. Someone went to great lengths to set Cravens up for the murders. Whoever it was had to know the approximate time that Cravens would be at that intersection. He was most likely followed, and whoever the supposed hooker was had to know when his car was approaching the intersection and make sure that the light was red. She was attractive and made him an offer that he couldn't refuse. Once she got him into a compromising position, she collected the tissue samples from his hip and pulled a gun. These murders were more organized than originally thought. This no longer fit the profile of a serial murderer. More than one person was behind these crimes.

The question now became whether or not someone had a personal vendetta against Cravens, or if he were merely the scapegoat as an attempt to appear to solve these crimes. White suspected that Cravens' release could spark a maneuver by the perpetrator to force Cravens to sign a full confession before snuffing him out. White didn't want to risk using Cravens as bait. However, he was toying with a similar idea with someone else.

It was now early evening, and White decided to call Muldoon to see if she was still up for some company for the rest of the evening. She was puzzled how he had just disappeared, and he promised to explain later. He had her get out some glasses and the Jameson because he would be arriving in a few minutes. White rang Muldoon's doorbell. She answered with a smile and handed him a glass of whiskey. White stepped inside and tossed his coat into a chair. He took a seat with Muldoon in her living room on the couch next to her. He spent the next half hour explaining what he and Jennings had learned from the suspect.

Muldoon poured them both another drink. Muldoon exclaimed, "Geez, Jazz," which got her to start giggling. She obviously had not stopped drinking since White had left her house earlier. Muldoon collected herself and continued. "This isn't just a serial killer on the loose. This is an organized attempt to appear as a serial killer."

"Exactly, Muldoon, which is why I need your help. However, I can't employ you to help me unless you agree to work for me. I know it's a lot to ask, and you can't possibly imagine what it will be like. I have told you all that I can until you agree to be my agent."

"So, would I be like an international spy?"

"Yes, that is exactly what you would be."

"Would I have to kill people?"

"It could require that, yes. Is that a problem?"

"Well, in my line of work, you don't kill unless it's to save another person or in self defense."

"To be honest, Erin, it's highly unlikely that you would be called upon to kill anyone. We have assassins who perform most of our annihilations. Termination orders are only issued when no other alternative can be determined to remove a threat. However, I have been in situations that did require an immediate termination without compromise."

"Wow, Jazz, I mean it sounds exciting, and I'm tempted to say, 'yes,' but you make it sound so permanent."

"It is permanent, Erin. You will live a life beyond your wildest dreams. I can't tell you specifics unless you agree."

"My god, Jazz, it looks like you have been out in the sun today. Your face is red. So, you're not going to tell me where you got that tan unless I work for, are you?"

"That's right. Do you like the sunshine?"

Muldoon sat upright. "Damn right I do! I get sick of the cold weather around here, and when the weather's nice I never have a chance to get a suntan. I'm always working."

White leaned over and put his face close to Muldoon's. "Come work for me, and you will be able to spend as much time in the sun as you want."

"How can you do that? Don't you work a lot?"

"Yes, I work all the time, but I always find time to play. I can show you how to do the same."

Muldoon pondered for a moment. "Can I keep Rex?"

White laughed. "Of course you can!"

Muldoon nodded her head hard. "All right, I'll do it!"

White reached over and gave Muldoon a hug. "Fantastic! Thank you, Erin. However, I will ask you that same question again in the morning when you are sober, and if your answer remains, your life will change dramatically. Well, I need to go now, and you need a good night's sleep. I will return early in the morning, and we can talk over breakfast. Is that a deal?"

Muldoon stood and shook White's hand. "Yes, it's a deal."

White pulled his coat back on and headed for the door. "I'll call you around seven tomorrow morning. See you then." White stepped out the front door. Muldoon looked through the window to see which way White was going, but he was already gone.

## CHAPTER SIX

### _Guilt, Regrets, and Remorse_

MORRISON SAT ON the edge of the bed as Allison unpacked her suitcase. She was furious as she pushed her clothes into her dresser. "I can't believe that you would do this, Aaron. You make me leave town, and then you take up with an old girlfriend from high school. Why did you wait until now to tell me about your relationship with Erin Muldoon?"

"Allie, that was ancient history. There was no point in telling you about Erin."

"Well, obviously that's not true because you just spent several days with her. My god, Aaron, you were on a date with her when your sister was murdered."

"It wasn't a date. I told you that I had said some very mean things to her, and I owed her an apology. I thought dinner would be a nice gesture."

"You said she spent the night."

"She did, but it wasn't that night. She had too much to drink while we were reviewing the murder cases, and I let her sleep in Amy's bed."

"Why couldn't she have slept on the couch? Now I need to strip Amy's bed and wash the sheets. So, what was this horrible thing that you said to her that you thought required a dinner to make up for it?"

"I accused her of chasing after an agent who was assigned to the murders."

"What?! And that required a dinner from you? You're lying to me, Aaron!" Morrison sat on the bed in consternation. He hadn't told his wife about the massage that Muldoon had given him that night on the couch. He knew that it would just cause more trouble if he confessed. Allison continued to rant as she shoved her suitcase into the closet. "Besides, why would you care if Erin Muldoon was pursuing an agent? Are you in love with her?" She glared at Morrison as she expected answers.

"No, Allie, I'm not in love with Erin. I care about her though, and the agent that she was ogling is the worst creep imaginable."

"So, when is it your business who Erin Muldoon dates? You're hiding something, and I know it!" Morrison sat in silence, not knowing which direction to take. Allison was in a rage. "Tell me the truth, Aaron! Did you fuck that woman?"

"No, Allie, I swear, I didn't!"

"Did you kiss her?" Morrison hesitated too long. "You son of a bitch!"

"Wait, Allie! Please, let me explain."

Allison was thoroughly disgusted. "Get your things for the night because you're sleeping on the couch!"

"Allie, please be reasonable. I didn't do anything."

Allison turned back toward Morrison as she was about to leave the room to wash Amy's sheets. "You did plenty! I'm not sure where we go from here, Aaron, but it is going to be a long while before I sort things out. Get your things out of here right now!" Allison stormed off to Amy's bedroom.

Morrison began gathering the things that he would need for the night and morning. Whoever said, "Confession is good for the soul," obviously was never married. The guilt that he was feeling for the things that he had done with Muldoon that upset Allison exacerbated the guilt that he felt for being with Muldoon while his sister was murdered. He was glad that he hadn't spent the night at Muldoon's house. He was hoping that somehow Muldoon didn't confess to Allison that she gave him that massage. He was seriously afraid that it could end his marriage. If Allison learned that Muldoon had her hands all over his body, there would be no reconciliation.

Later, Morrison sat on the couch in silence and darkness as he sipped a glass of Bushmills Whiskey on ice. He was scheduled to be at his parents' house at nine o'clock in the morning to help with his sister's funeral arrangements. His mother and father were now elderly, and the emotional stress was extremely hard for them to bear. He was hoping that it wouldn't cause serious health issues for either of them. He was grieving considerably for his sister, and now he was grieving his endangered marriage. His first counseling session with the psychologist was scheduled for later tomorrow morning, and he had a lot to share.

During Morrison's second drink, he suddenly remembered the video tapes. He began wondering if a similar tape existed of Janette's murder. Only Muldoon knew about the other tapes. Janette's apartment was sealed, and he didn't want to risk trying to get inside. No one would share the details of her case with him. He assumed that her murder followed the attributes of the others. It broke his heart to think that his sister had been the victim of a violent sex crime. He never dreamed that she would be in danger. He was now blaming himself for his short-sightedness that led to his sister's murder. If he had protected Janette, would his parents have been the victims? If he protected his parents as well, would Erin Muldoon become the victim? It was impossible to second guess what the perpetrator would do under those circumstances. He needed to see if a video tape existed for Janette. His heart sank as he realized that Agent White was probably the only person who could help.

The next day, things grew increasingly worse for Morrison emotionally. His parents both broke down in tears several times during their meeting to decide the arrangements for Janette's funeral. Janette had been single, and she hadn't purchased a burial plot. Morrison's parents decided to purchase an available plot next to their own. His mother insisted on one of Janette's dresses for the funeral. However, they still awaited the recommendations from the funeral director for certain details. Janette's body had not been released by the FBI yet.

Morrison was scheduled to meet with the psychologist at his police precinct. When he arrived, he noticed a group of officers heading to the parking garage to check out a Lamborghini that was seen by one of the patrolmen on his way in. There was a buzz of conversation in the air over the vehicle. Morrison spotted Muldoon talking with Captain Reese at the far end of the room, and he had to do a double take. He couldn't believe his eyes. Muldoon was dressed to the hilt and sporting an incredible suntan. This was logically impossible. It had been three days since he had seen Muldoon, and there was no way that she could have tanned that dark in that period of time. Besides, it was the dead of winter, and her tan was too natural to be done in a tanning booth. This made no sense.

His meeting with the psychologist was scheduled in ten minutes, and he was hoping to get a chance to talk to Muldoon before then. However, she was still engaged with Captain Reese. Finally, he saw Reese shake Muldoon's hand and retreat to his office. Morrison wasted no time. He approached Muldoon. "My god, Erin, where have you been? You look amazing!"

Muldoon gave half a smile. "I just resigned, Aaron. That's all I can tell you."

"What do you mean? You're quitting the force?"

"That's right, I'm finished here."

"Where in the world did you get that suntan? How is that even possible?"

"I can tell you nothing, Aaron."

Morrison finally connected the dots. "Oh, my god, Erin, this all has to do with Agent White, doesn't it?"

Muldoon turned to walk away. "Like I said, I can tell you nothing."

Morrison grabbed Muldoon's arm. She indignantly looked down at his hand. He demanded, "That Lamborghini in the garage doesn't happen to belong to you, does it?"

"That's none of your business, now let loose of my arm."

As Muldoon walked away, Morrison called out to her, "He got to you, didn't he? I don't believe it! I thought you couldn't stand that guy!"

Muldoon gave no response and disappeared into the elevator. Morrison was seething. His counseling session was frustrating. He was grieving his sister's murder. He was grieving the condition of his marriage, and now he was grieving Muldoon's decision. He felt betrayed, and he was angry. His hatred for Agent White had soared to new heights, and his consternation grew as he knew that it would be Agent White who had to solve his sister's murder case. He resented relying on a man whom he loathed with all his heart. His intention was to save Allison to prevent losing her to a violent crime, but in the process he now suffered the possibility of losing her due to his indiscretion. He wanted to save Muldoon from Agent White, but she now belonged to him. He failed to save his sister as well. Morrison's depression was growing exponentially.

Morrison headed to the pharmacy to fill a prescription for a mood stabilizer that was ordered by his psychologist. He hated the idea of relying on pills. Muldoon's house was a few blocks out of his way home, but he decided to swing by in case she was there. His heart nearly stopped as he spotted the For Sale sign in her front yard. She not only quit the force, but she was obviously leaving town. He spied the bright red Lamborghini sitting in her driveway. He wanted answers. He parked at the curb and jogged up to her front door. He rang the bell and waited. She didn't answer. He pounded on the door. "Come on, Erin, open up! I know you're in there."

When Morrison pounded a second time, White opened the front door wearing only a white towel around his waist. "Aaron, she's resting right now and doesn't want any company. You need to go home to your wife and make amends. You and I will talk later. Good day." White closed and locked the front door.

Morrison was in a stupor as he wandered back to his car. He couldn't believe this was happening. His life had been turned upside down in a matter of a few days. He got into his car and popped one of the mood stabilizers into his mouth. He sat in the driver's seat for several minutes staring straight ahead. Suddenly, he broke. He sobbed as he couldn't decide which hurt worse, his marriage that might end, or that Muldoon was now fucking Agent White. He was at an all time low as he pulled away from the curb to head back home to a wife who wouldn't even talk to him.

Morrison's phone buzzed. It was Jamie O'Toole. He was at O'Leary's pub and asked Morrison to join him. Morrison did a u-turn and headed over to the bar. He found O'Toole in the back room with a beer. Morrison joined him and ordered a Guinness. O'Toole shook his head. "I heard you were back in town. You won't believe what has been happening. The Chief is so mad that he could bite nails in two. Did you hear about the suspect that we had for the murders?" Morrison shook his head. "We hauled in a guy who had recently been released from prison for rape because his DNA matched the skin under your sister's fingernails. The Chief was scheduled for a press conference to announce that we had caught the serial murderer, but Agent White ended up releasing the suspect."

Morrison slapped the table with his right palm. "You've got to be kidding me? Now, why in the hell would he do that?"

"I don't know. Captain Reese was up in arms about it. Agent Jennings insisted that it was an FBI matter, and he made Captain Reese back off. Jennings and White took the perp into custody over to Chelsea and interrogated him. Then, they let him go. It don't make no sense, Aaron. The suspect had scratch marks on his hip."

"Goddammit, Jamie, White just keeps getting further and further under my skin. So much has happened in the past few days. My marriage is in the toilet, Muldoon quit the force, and now I hear that my sister's murderer was released."

"Whoa, wait a minute, Aaron. What do you mean your marriage is in the toilet? I thought you just got back from Chicago with Allison. What happened?"

Morrison hung his head. "Oh, Jamie, I made some mistakes. I had Erin Muldoon help me review the murder cases. One night, she got too drunk to drive home, and I let her stay at my place. The next night, I got too drunk, and she ended up giving me a massage. We didn't do anything sexual though. I made her leave that night. You know that I was out to dinner with her the night Janette was murdered."

"Yeah, I saw the chemistry between you two at the New Year's Eve party, but I didn't say nothin'. It's none of my business, Aaron. So, obviously Allison knows about Officer Muldoon."

"Yes, she does. I knew that it would become common knowledge that I was with Muldoon the night of Janette's murder. I wanted to confess to Allison to let her know that I had been working with Muldoon, but it backfired on me. She asked me if I kissed Muldoon, and I didn't want to admit the kiss at midnight during the party. She put two and two together, and now I'm sleeping on the couch."

"Hey, I'm sorry to hear that, Aaron. I'm sure it'll blow over. Did you say that Muldoon quit the force?"

Morrison closed his eyes and shook his head. "Oh, god, Jamie, I can't believe it. I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone. I saw Muldoon at the precinct this morning. She had a dark tan like Agent White. It made no sense. Nobody tans that fast. It's the middle of winter, for god's sake, and get this. He bought her a fuckin' Lamborghini! When I tried to ask her about it, she would only tell me that she quit her job. I stopped by her place about an hour ago, and she has a For Sale sign in the front yard. I went to the door, and Agent White answered wearing nothing but a towel. Muldoon is obviously whoring around with him now."

O'Toole shook his head as he clutched his beer. "Yeah, women fall all over those agents. What a life they must live! So, he must be one rich son of a bitch to be able to buy a Lamborghini."

"None of this makes any fuckin' sense, Jamie. It's physically impossible to get a suntan that fast, and where did White get all that money?"

"I don't know, Aaron, but he's not FBI. He's in the private sector. Who knows what this guy is all about?"

The waitress served another round of beers, and Morrison leaned forward. "Look, Jamie, I've got to come clean with you. I'm not on the murder cases anymore, but your informant that ended up dead in the harbor is most likely linked somehow to these murders."

O'Toole looked pensive and sat back in his chair. He nodded a few times. "Yeah, well, I don't know nothin' about any connection between him and any murders. I can't help you there, Aaron."

"Jamie, you've got to tell me the truth. Did you cancel Mrs. Denton's taxi the night of the Paxton murder?"

O'Toole turned his head toward Morrison. "What the hell are you talking about, what taxi?"

"You knew that Mrs. Denton was going to fly to Atlanta the night of the Paxton murder. Detective Hanson told me that someone canceled her taxi. That caused her to call me for a ride to the airport, which put me near the Paxton residence when the murder was reported."

O'Toole shook his head. "Geez, Aaron, that sounds pretty complicated. No, I didn't cancel no taxi. Maybe Hanson did it. I don't understand what the taxi has to do with anything."

"Well, Mrs. Denton asked me for a ride to the airport. Someone must have known that I would be in the vicinity of Paxton's house when the murder was reported. Hanson thinks that I was set up to take the Paxton case. Now, my sister has been murdered because I got Allison and the girls out of town."

O'Toole shook his head vigorously. "No, Aaron, I hope you don't think I had anything to do with these murders. I didn't do nothin'."

"Did you tell anyone that Mrs. Denton was leaving town that night?"

O'Toole put his hand to his forehead as he thought for a moment. "No, why in the hell would I tell anyone about Mrs. Denton leaving town? Nobody I know knows her, except for you."

"I don't know, Jamie, but Paxton was told to meet an informant at the docks the night of his wife's murder. The informant supposedly had information about the Simmons case. He was supposed to be wearing an orange hat, but he never showed, and when Paxton got home his wife was dismembered on the dining room floor. I heard the call, and I was in the area because I had just dropped Mrs. Denton off at Logan."

O'Toole shook his head. "Boy, I don't know, Aaron, that sure sounds like a lot of detailed organization. Maybe you're making more out of this than you should."

"I don't think so, Jamie. What is the suspect's name that White released?"

"Geez, I don't know. You could ask the Captain, why?"

"I want to talk to this guy."

"Whoa, Aaron, you could get into a lot of trouble interfering with an FBI case."

"Damn it, Jamie, I can't trust Agent White to solve Janette's murder. I need to talk to this scumbag."

"Well, good luck with that. I heard someone say that White and Jennings put the perp in FBI protective custody. Apparently, they think his life is in danger."

"Damn it, Jamie. Every way I turn, White gets in my way. I'm not sure what to do next. Your informant is dead, the suspect is in FBI custody, no one will give me details about my sister's murder, you don't know of any connection with Mrs. Denton's taxi being canceled, and Hanson claims he doesn't have any more information."

"I think you're going to have to sit this one out, Aaron. I'd hate to see you get into trouble for interfering."

Morrison's phone buzzed. He didn't recognize the number, but he took the call. He sat and listened for a few moments before responding. "Yes, I'll be there. See you soon." Morrison looked over at O'Toole. "That was Paxton's sister. She has left an invitation at the entrance to Brae Burn for me to have dinner with her there tonight. She has some business that she wants to discuss."

"Brae Burn? Are you talking about that country club in West Newton?"

"Yes, Paxton's parents are very well off."

O'Toole chuckled. "Well, I guess they are if they're members at Brae Burn."

"Well, I better go home to shower and change clothes. I'm not sure what she wants. I'm no longer assigned to her sister-in-law's case. I'll catch up with you later, Jamie."

Morrison laid a twenty dollar bill on the table and departed. He certainly wasn't going to tell Allison that he had a dinner date with a beautiful young rich woman. Allison had little to say to Morrison these days, and he doubted that she would ask where he was going. He had promised to find the killer responsible for the murder of Paxton's wife. Now, he had no right or access to the murder case. He hated to disappoint Casandra, Paxton's sister, if she were asking for an update on his progress.

Two hours later, Morrison pulled into the country club as he turned off of Fuller Street. He parked in a guest spot and stepped inside the building to obtain his temporary pass. He walked over to the main building, and Paxton's sister awaited him in the lobby area. A hostess promptly seated them in the dining room. They ordered cocktails, and Casandra turned to Morrison. "Detective Morrison, my family is well aware of what has happened with my sister-in-law's case. Daddy has several influential contacts at every political level in Boston. First, I want to offer our condolences to you pertaining to your sister's demise. You can rest assured that we share your grief. We were all terribly saddened by your loss."

"Thank you, Ms. Paxton, I appreciate that."

Casandra leaned forward and put her hand on top of Morrison's. "Oh, please, call me Cassie."

"Very well, and you may call me Aaron."

Both looked up as a waiter brought their drinks. As he departed, Casandra explained, "I hope you don't mind that I ordered our dinners. I hope you like lobster."

"Oh, absolutely, that will be fine, but I'm curious why you invited me here. Surely, it wasn't just to offer your condolences."

"You are correct, Aaron, I have further business. Daddy offered you one hundred thousand dollars for the assassination of Carla's murderer. That offer still stands, but due to the tragic loss of your sister, he has now doubled the offer. He is willing to forward one hundred thousand to you if you accept, and he will pay the remainder upon completion of the project."

Morrison looked around to be sure that no one was within earshot. "Cassie, that amounts to first degree murder. Surely, you must know that I couldn't participate in such an endeavor."

"Aaron, my father is a very powerful man, and you must realize that he would never allow you to be indicted for a murder. Surely, you want retribution for your own sister. That's why Daddy is willing to hire you at twice his original offer. He believes that you are the man for the job." Casandra leaned forward and reached out as she took Morrison's hand into hers. "We're counting on you, Aaron. Please, tell me that you will do this for us."

"I'm sorry, Cassie, but I'm not a murderer. I can bring the man to justice, but I can't be the one to condemn him to death."

"Really, because he condemned your sister to death as well as my sister-in-law. It's an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. He took the lives of those whom we love, and he deserves for us to take his."

"I understand your premise, Cassie, but we're not subject to the laws of the Old Testament. Rather, we are subject to the laws of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts."

"So, Aaron, do you believe that the laws of men supersede the laws of God?"

"No, I do not, but the laws of the Old Testament pertained to the Jewish nation at that time. They don't govern us today. I'm sorry, but I can't agree to do this."

Casandra pulled a tissue from her purse to dry a tear. She looked up at Morrison resolutely. "Did you know that he cut your sister's head off?"

Morrison was visibly shaken. "How could you possibly know such a thing?"

"I told you that Daddy has great influence, and he is privy to information that most people can't get. The murderer forced himself into your sister's throat to satisfy his sexual desires and removed her head afterward. Are you going to sit there and tell me that you will do nothing to end this monster?"

Morrison looked downward as his heart broke once again over his sister's murder. He began to choke and tried to catch his breath. "My god, Cassie, are you absolutely sure of this?"

"I assure you, Aaron, that I would never tell you such a thing unless I was absolutely positive. My father showed me a copy of the case report. Do we have a deal?"

In the same hour, Agent White was descending the stairway that led to the family room in Detective Hanson's basement. Hanson looked back over his shoulder as he led White to a private place where they could talk. "Do you care for Bourbon, Agent White?"

"As a matter of fact, I do, Jonathan."

Hanson poured two glasses and handed one to White. "You'll like this one. It's a Henry McKenna, single barrel, one hundred proof, smooth as silk. So, what brings you to my humble abode this evening?"

The two men took a seat as they faced one another. "Well, Jonathan, you and I need to come to an agreement and an understanding."

"Oh, how so, Agent White?"

"I'm in the middle of a murder investigation, and I can't afford any interference. If you muddy the waters, it's going to possibly interfere with substantial evidence in this case."

"I don't understand, Agent White. How could I possibly interfere in your investigation?"

"You are keenly aware of Erin Muldoon's insistence on prosecuting you for racketeering and murder. You also know that she has resigned from the force, but she hasn't resigned from pursuing you."

"Yes, I know that, but what does that have to do with your investigation?"

"You need to back off of Muldoon, Jonathan. I know for a fact that you plan to take her out if she gets too close to being able to prosecute you."

"I don't know what you're talking about. She failed to have me indicted due to a lack of evidence. I'm clean."

"You're anything but clean, Jonathan, but I have no interest in you other than making sure that you don't come after Muldoon."

"Look, Agent White, you're barking up the wrong tree here. I haven't done anything wrong."

"Oh, please, Jonathan, let's not play a game of cat and mouse here. I know your involvement in the operation at the docks. I know about the smuggling and the drug operation."

"You got no evidence. Muldoon couldn't prove a thing."

"Actually, I do have evidence, Jonathan, but like I said, I'm not interested in you. I won't bother you as long as you leave Muldoon alone." Hanson sat and stared at White as he slowly nodded his head. "And don't bother having one of your henchmen try to take me out, Jonathan. That won't be possible. Besides, it would just piss me off, and do you know what I do to people who piss me off?"

"No, Agent White, tell me, what do you do?"

"I take them apart piece by piece over a matter of days or weeks as they watch their body parts get removed. Do we have a deal?"

Hanson got up to pour himself and White another drink. "You know, if her old man hadn't been a good friend of mine, she would have disappeared long ago. If you can assure me that she will stop snooping around into my business, I will give you my word that I will leave her alone."

"I assure you that I won't let her pursue you any further. She works for me now, so she can't do anything outside of my approval. In turn, I need for you to stop having her tailed. We aren't going to interfere with your operations, but if you leave any telltale signs of surveillance of her, I guarantee that it could backfire on you, and you could get sucked into a possible conspiracy to commit murder. You and I need to work together."

"So, Muldoon works for you now. She's a very pretty lady. I hear you two are more than employer and employee."

"My personal relationship with Erin Muldoon is nobody's business. You have my word that Erin will not do anything further to implicate you for any crimes. If I detect one of your men following or spying on her, I will unleash hell on you." White rose from his chair. "Well, Jonathan, thank you for the Bourbon. You were right, I did enjoy it. Now, I will leave you to return to your television and the reruns of Colombo."

"How the hell do you know what I was watching when you came to my door?"

"I know far more about you than you would ever imagine, but your secrets are safe with me. Have a good evening. I'll see myself out."

White entered Muldoon's house from the back door. She was in the kitchen preparing a late dinner. White selected a bottle of white wine from the fridge as Muldoon pulled a pork roast from the oven. As he popped the cork, she looked over and asked, " So, does everyone think I'm your new girlfriend?"

White smiled and handed Muldoon a glass of wine. "Well, so far it appears that way."

"Are you sure that you got all of Hanson's hidden cameras and microphones out of my house?"

"Yes, dear, they are all gone. Relax, he no longer knows your every move."

"So, is he going to back off of me?"

"Of course not! I'm counting on it."

"Do you promise to put that son of a bitch behind bars?"

"Rest assured, my dear, I have given him plenty of rope, and he will most definitely hang himself."

Muldoon dished a plate of roast, potatoes, and carrots for White. "Good, because he had my only uncle murdered. My father had no other siblings. I vowed to my father to put that bastard away, but so far I haven't been able to do it."

"I know, Sweetie, but he will go to jail for the rest of his life. It just won't be for the crimes that you intended."

Muldoon cut into her portion of pork roast. "So, are you going to tell Aaron that we really aren't boyfriend and girlfriend?"

White smiled. "You care about Aaron, don't you?"

"Of course I do! We're friends, and I hate that he's having such a hard time with his marriage."

White swallowed a mouthful of roast and asked, "Would you marry Aaron if he were single?"

Muldoon thought for a moment as she chewed. "I don't know, maybe. I mean, he has a lot of great attributes, but I'm not sure he's the man for me." Muldoon giggled. "Besides, could you imagine the confusion it could cause, Aaron and Erin Morrison?"

White smiled and nodded. "Well, you haven't begun your agent training yet. You will have a far different perspective of this world and the people in it once you complete the program. Your expectations and criteria for a mate will dramatically change."

"So, are you going to let Aaron stew over our supposed relationship?"

"I haven't decided. I really don't want him to relax his hatred toward me yet. It will make others suspicious, and I can't afford that. In order to draw the perpetrator out of the shadows, I need to keep a serious polarization going among certain people. So far, everyone on the police force detests me. It's important that I keep it that way. Now that Hanson's surveillance equipment has been removed, we need to install the cameras throughout your house that I brought with me tonight. We have an open house scheduled for Sunday, and you and I need to be out of here so that Hanson can send one of his men in here to plant more devices. I have an FBI agent who is posing as a realtor to show your house. You and I will be watching the video surveillance from a van parked two streets away."

"When are you going to go talk to Aaron?"

"I'll call him tonight and schedule a meeting for tomorrow morning. He desperately wants to know what is on the video tape that was left at his sister's apartment, but I cannot allow that."

"Why won't you let me watch the tape?"

"Because, Erin, you knew Janette personally, and the tape is far more graphic than what you have seen before. It's incredibly brutal, and it would shake you too much. After all, we're using you for bait to catch this guy."

"Yes, and that makes me very nervous, Jazz. I hope you know what you're doing."

White took Muldoon's left hand and pulled it to his lips. He sweetly kissed the back of her hand. "Erin, my dear, I hope you know that I would never purposely put you in any real danger. You will be holding a panic button the entire evening. Agent Jennings will be across the street watching your house. If you see any signs of danger, just push the panic button, and Jennings will be here in seconds."

"So, where will you be this whole time?"

"I have to be seen far from here. I will have a meeting with Captain Reese at the precinct that evening while you are alone in your house. You need to trust me, Erin."

"Jazz, we have no idea how this perp gains entry to the house. What if he chloroforms me from behind, and I don't get a chance to push the panic button?"

"Agent Jennings will be monitoring our cameras. You're going to have to look casual like you are spending a leisurely evening at home all alone in case Hanson's surveillance is being used. I'm not entirely convinced that he isn't involved."

"You know, it really pisses me off that creep Hanson has probably seen me naked on his surveillance cameras."

"I know, but you're going to have to act and dress like you normally do when you are alone. Otherwise, someone might notice the difference and back off."

"Are you going to find out where his cameras are after the open house?"

"Yes, but I won't tell you because I don't want you looking at them or acting any differently."

Muldoon was flustered. "Will you at least tell me if there is one in my bathroom?"

White chuckled. "Sorry. By the way, Sunday night we have to put on a show for his cameras. We need a convincing performance that we are making love, but I have some experience in how to do this. Don't worry, I won't compromise you in any way. I'll explain it all later."

Muldoon fixed a couple of drinks for her and White as he phoned Morrison. He asked Morrison to meet him and the Boston Harbor Hotel lobby at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. He needed to interrogate Morrison about his sister and answer some questions for him as well.

After White got off the phone, Muldoon turned to him. "So, you and I will have to start sleeping in the same bed at night until we set this guy up."

"Yes, that's true, Erin, but it won't pose a problem. I'll make sure that everything looks good for the camera. It's only going to be for a night or two. Just remember that after the open house, everything we say or do is going to be monitored. We'll set up some scripts for dialogue to bait them. I'll explain all of that in a few minutes before I leave." Muldoon looked shaken. "What's the matter, Erin?"

"Honestly, Jazz, I don't want you to leave me alone until all of this is over. What if he comes for me tonight?"

White sighed and thought for a moment. "I seriously doubt that he would try anything unless he was sure I was gone, but I understand your consternation. I'll sleep on your couch until Sunday night."

"Actually, Jazz, I was hoping that you would sleep closer than that. I'm really scared."

"Very well, I'll sleep in your room if that makes you feel better."

Muldoon hugged White for the first time. "Thank you, I appreciate it. I hope you understand."

## CHAPTER SEVEN

### _Morrison and White_

THE NEXT MORNING, White sipped a cup of coffee as he awaited Morrison in the lobby of the Boston Harbor Hotel. Morrison strolled through the door and looked left and right. White arose from the couch after leaving his coffee on a table. Morrison spotted White as he approached. "Good morning, Aaron! I hope you slept well last night."

"Fuck you, White! I'm sure you know what's going on between Allison and me."

White grimaced with a look of understanding. "Indeed I do, Aaron, and I might be able to offer some good advice on the matter, but let's resume this conversation in my room."

White sauntered over to the main desk to order a coffee cart to be delivered to his room. He then escorted Morrison to the sixteenth floor. Once they got settled, the coffee arrived, and White invited Morrison to fix himself a cup. White could see the impatience on Morrison's face and sat in silence awaiting Morrison's questions. Morrison slugged down his coffee that was laced with copious amounts of cream and sugar. "Tell me why you are protecting the perp whose skin was found under Allison's fingernails."

"The short answer is that the evidence didn't add up, and the suspect was accosted by a woman posing as a hooker who collected the tissue samples from his hip. There's more detail, but this guy was being framed for the murders. It appears that this was intended to close the case. However, that didn't happen. The police were about to make a glaring error. He isn't our perp, Aaron. However, you have another question for me."

"I'm sure you know that I'm going to ask you about a possible VHS tape that was most likely left in Jan's apartment. Did you find it?"

White took a sip of his coffee, a deep breath, and let out a sigh. He grimaced with a show of teeth as he responded. "Yes, I did find the tape, and I know you want to see it, but that won't happen."

Morrison jumped from his chair. "Damn it, White, I have a right to see that tape!"

White responded, "Actually, no, you don't. Believe me, Aaron, you don't want to see that tape. You're already angered enough, and you have already heard what happened. By the way, are you really going to take that contract from Horatio Paxton?"

"What the hell do you know about that?"

"I know a lot, Aaron. You would be surprised to know the conversations that transpire of which I have intimate knowledge. In fact, they sometimes upset me to no end, like the one you had with O'Toole." White placed his cup on a table and rose from his chair. He approached Morrison, and stood uncomfortably close as he glared into Morrison's eyes. "Listen closely, Aaron. If you ever use any derivative of the term 'whore' and Erin Muldoon's name in the same sentence, I will break all of your front teeth out. Am I clear?"

Morrison stared into White's eyes with hatred. White held his stance and leaned into Morrison's face. Finally, Morrison backed down and shook his head. He looked at the floor and conceded, "You're right, that was terribly wrong of me. I apologize. Erin is my friend, and I don't want her to get hurt."

"Believe me, Aaron, if anyone ever hurt Erin Muldoon, I would personally take him apart piece by piece. I would never let anyone injure her, and I will make sure that she is happy beyond her wildest dreams. However, I can see from your eyes that does not bring you comfort, but we're not here to talk about Erin. Take a seat!" Morrison and White returned to their chairs. "First, let's discuss your relationship with your wife."

"That's none of your fuckin' business, White!"

"No, it's not, and I agree, but if you and Allison are going to move forward with any chance of reconciliation, you need to tell her the full and absolute truth. Honestly, Aaron, Allison believes that you did far more than you actually did. If you explain all of the events as they unfolded, I think she will have a better chance to see it more from your perspective. You can't risk her learning about Muldoon's massage at a later date. Granted, she will hate Muldoon with intense passion, and the two of them should never be in a room together, but Allison will appreciate your candor. She loves you, Aaron, and she hates what is happening between you two, but she hasn't heard the whole truth. Give her a chance."

Morrison was boiling with rage. "How do you think you know so much about my wife?"

"She's a woman, Aaron. Women don't like the prospect that they are being lied to. Tell her the truth. I think she can handle it. By the way, Erin Muldoon is greatly upset that you and Allison are suffering because of her. She wants you to work it out. So do I. However, we need to turn to the murder of your sister, Janette. You got Allison and the girls out of town, and the perpetrator unleashed on your sister. I know what you're suffering because of that, but why do you think that he targeted Janette?"

"I don't know, probably because she was the next closest person to me."

"That was my thought as well, but why is the killer concentrating on those whom investigators love? The murders have linked from detective to detective. What's the connection?"

"Well, Agent White, I guess if we knew that we would have more than half of this mystery solved."

"Yes, Aaron, originally I thought so too, but not anymore. I believe that the intention behind these murders is to outrage everyone, especially the police department. Once emotion comes into play, logic and reasoning fly out the window. I think it's intended to be a smoke screen that no one can overcome because the murders jump from investigator to investigator. Tell me, Aaron, are you outraged?"

"Well, of course I am! It doesn't take a genius to figure that out."

"Yes, but are you outraged enough to commit murder for two hundred thousand dollars?"

"I still don't understand how you could possibly know about that conversation. I'm not a murderer, White."

"True, but the term 'murderer' becomes a matter of perspective. Have you justified in your mind that killing your sister's murderer is acceptable?"

"Are you telling me that you are going to prosecute me if I do kill this guy?"

White pondered for a moment. "I'm not saying that, Aaron, but I need for you to tread lightly. Otherwise, I'm afraid that you will destroy the link between these murders and the one orchestrating them."

"What do you mean? I don't understand."

"Gregory Allen Cravens is the suspect who was arrested for the murders due to his DNA matching the skin under Janette's fingernails. The scratch marks on his hip were far deeper than Janette's fingernails could have produced. In addition, the skin under her nails didn't reach far enough underneath to be collected by scratching. His skin was planted there to frame him. He had been accosted by a woman posing as a hooker who put those scratches in his hip to collect the skin samples. Janette was murdered a little over an hour later. The operation to collect the skin tissue had to be organized with more than one person. I need to find who is responsible. Whoever is behind this tried to frame Cravens, which means that they are trying to close the cases without further investigation. However, their framing attempt failed, and most likely there will be another murder."

White noticed the realization in Morrison's eyes. "Oh, my god, White, and you think Erin Muldoon is the next intended victim. You're going to use her as bait, aren't you? How could you do that to her? Did you seduce her just so you could use her?"

"Goodness no, Aaron, she works for me now, and she has to do whatever I tell her."

White grinned smugly as he watched Morrison's ire build to the boiling point. Morrison shook his head in disgust. "You son of a bitch, if you weren't a federal agent, I would knock you into the middle of next week."

"Well, Aaron, I'm not a federal agent, and you are more than welcome to try, but I must warn you that I am highly trained. However, I promise not to hurt you." Morrison jumped from his chair and White met him midway. Morrison threw a punch, and White grabbed his fist, pulled his arm around his back, and pushed him to the floor as he restrained him with his twisted arm. "Good god, Aaron, you telegraph your intentions long before you make a move. When is the last time you were in a fight?"

"Give me another chance! Let me up!"

White chuckled as he allowed Morrison to get onto his feet. Morrison took a fighting stance as White observed. "You're going to kick with your left foot, don't bother. Now you have shifted to your right hand because you're right handed. My god, Aaron, you're a fighting sign post. Give me something spontaneous." Morrison advanced, and White sent him to the floor again in pain. "You should train with my wife, she's a killing machine."

"You're married? Does your wife know about Erin Muldoon?"

White broke into laughter. "My god, Aaron, my wife has met Erin Muldoon, and they have become great friends. Are you that jealous for a former lover?"

Morrison was enflamed with anger. He was heaving and looking for a way to knock White off of his feet. "What do you know about Muldoon and me? What did she tell you?"

"She told me nothing, but, if I ever see two people in the same room together who have been sexually intimate, it is obvious by the way that they make eye contact. I saw it when you two were standing by the elevators. You're married to a wonderful wife with two fabulous daughters, but you, my friend, have done the nasty with Erin Muldoon." White grinned from ear to ear.

"Damn you, White! I've been true to my wife since we have been married. My involvement with Erin was confined to high school. I've never had anything to do with her since, I swear."

"I understand, but we really need to move on. Calm yourself, and take a seat."

Morrison kept his stance for a moment. He knew that he couldn't overcome White. Finally, he walked backward to sink back into the chair. "Hold on a minute! How could Erin be friends with your wife, and where did she get that suntan? It's physically impossible to tan that fast."

"Aaron, I can't divulge that information. Besides, even if I told you the truth, you would never believe me. There's a lot that I need to tell you, and I'm wondering if I can afford to tell you the truth. I need you more as an ally than an enemy, but I'm not sure that you can maintain your display of hatred toward me."

Morrison nodded his head in assurance. "Oh, believe me, White, there's nothing that will interfere with my abject hatred of you. I would rip your guts out if I thought I could get away with it."

White breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, you have no idea how that relieves me. Everything I tell you from now on needs to be held in the strictest confidence. Can you do that?"

"It depends on what you have to tell me."

"Well, first of all, Erin and I are not intimately involved. We need to appear that way to draw out the perpetrator."

"Oh, bullshit! You answered her door in nothing but a towel."

"Which I quickly changed into between your knocks on the door, Aaron. I needed to get you to spread the word that Erin and I were sexually involved. You told O'Toole, and that is the equivalent to broadcasting it to everyone else. As much as you may think you know O'Toole, he is a blabbermouth. The only way I could bait the perpetrator was to make everyone believe that she was my girlfriend."

"You're out of your fuckin' mind, White! How could you possibly put her in danger like that? You're using her."

"I'm not putting her in any danger. I plan to have the FBI monitoring her house from across the street. I'll be sure to be seen far from there so that the killer thinks that she is alone. We have cameras in her house, and the FBI will be watching. It's our best shot at catching the killer, but I need for you to work with me."

"So, what is it that you think I can do for you?"

"For starters, don't divulge any information to Detective Hanson. I have strong suspicions that he is somehow linked to these murders, but so far I can't prove it. Also, only tell Officer O'Toole things that you want everyone to know, which is very little. Thirdly, I have done a fairly decent job of becoming unpopular with everyone. I need to keep it that way, but I may need help from the police department and possibly Horatio Paxton at some point. I will need you as a liaison in certain situations. Lastly, if you do decide to accept Horatio Paxton's offer, I need for you to hold off the execution until I agree. I don't want this murderer being snuffed out before I can find who is behind it all."

Morrison squinted with a dubious look. "So, you're OK with me taking out the perpetrator?"

"Oh, Aaron, I frankly have no problem with that at all, as long as you don't do it prematurely. In fact, I may be able to help you."

"You do realize, White, that you just agreed to be an accessory to first degree murder."

White put his fingers over his mouth in a prayer-like fashion and gave a short chuckle. "I live in a very different world, Aaron, and it doesn't operate under the confines of the law. If we catch this killer beyond a shadow of a doubt, I think you should collect the two hundred thousand dollars, but only after I get a chance to interrogate him in private."

"So, what makes you think that there is more to this than a serial killer? He could have hired a hooker to frame that suspect. It doesn't fit the profile. These sick bastards work alone."

"Yes, that's very true, but whoever is doing this expects law enforcement to stick with the profile. If this were just a serial murder case, I would not have been called in on it. Before you ask, I cannot tell you how I receive my assignments, but this has to be far more than a serial murder. Right now I have no proof, and I don't know why this is happening."

"What if you're wrong? I just want to catch the sick fuck that killed my sister, that's all."

"Finding the murderer would only amount to a physician treating the symptoms for cancer. Which would you rather hear from an oncologist, 'I'm going to relieve your symptoms,' or, 'I'm going to irradiate your cancer?'"

"So, then you're telling me that the murders are a symptom of a greater problem? I don't understand."

"That's exactly what I'm telling you. I wasn't called in on this case to find a murderer; I was called in to find a threat to the course of world events."

Morrison shook his head and stood to his feet. "Wow! You are one strange nut case, Agent White!"

White chuckled. "Well, I could never refute that accusation, but we have our work cut out for us. I just need to go beyond the murders to accomplish my task. So, will you help me?"

"For the sake of Erin Muldoon, I will help, but not for you. I gotta go. I have another session scheduled with my psychologist." Morrison left the room without further comment. White smiled and fixed himself another cup of coffee.

White and Muldoon had two days to work out a choreography for their fake lovemaking sessions and the dialogues that were intended for Detective Hanson's ears. White expected Hanson to have his cameras in place by the end of the open house on Sunday. He had scheduled a meeting with Captain Reese to discuss aspects of the Simmons and Paxton cases on Monday evening in order to establish his whereabouts far from Muldoon's house. He was hoping that due to the aggravation that everyone at the Boston Police Department shared toward White, Captain Reese would be talking about the upcoming meeting. White also was going to have Morrison tell Officer O'Toole about the meeting as well. Muldoon would be seen all alone in her house, and Agent White would be far away at the precinct Monday night. It was a proper invitation for a murder.

Morrison was taking White's advice. He had coordinated with his parents to watch his daughters on Sunday afternoon so that he and Allison could discuss everything that transpired between him and Muldoon while Allison was away. He knew that he couldn't risk keeping secrets from Allison. If the details were too much for her to bear, then at least he knew there was full disclosure, and that he had damaged their marriage beyond repair. He was fearful, but he realized it was the right thing to do. He sat in consternation Saturday night at O'Leary's pub drinking ale and ignoring Detective Hanson's phone calls. He knew that O'Toole would show up sometime during the evening, and Morrison made sure to secure a seat in the front barroom.

Sure enough, come nine o'clock O'Toole stepped through the doorway and hung his coat on the rack. Morrison shouted to him, "Hey, Jamie, the first one's on me!" O'Toole spotted Morrison and headed his direction.

O'Toole pulled a chair back from the table and took a seat. The barmaid was passing, and O'Toole stopped her to order a beer. He turned to Morrison. "You know, Aaron, you asked if I told anyone about Mrs. Denton's trip to Atlanta. I got to thinking later, and I'm pretty sure that I mentioned it to my next door neighbor."

Morrison's suspicions were stirring. "Really, why would you tell your next door neighbor?"

"Well, he was taking his wife on a short vacation for New Year's Eve to New York City. He said that she always wanted to watch the ball drop in Times Square. I told him that Mrs. Denton down the block had plans to leave town too."

"So, why didn't you remember that the last time we were here, and I asked you if you told anyone about Mrs. Denton?"

"I don't know. I guess I had way too much to drink."

"That's really strange, Jamie, because you seemed fairly lucid at the time and even stopped to think about it for a moment."

"Hey, are you calling me a liar? I'm trying to help you out here."

"No, no, Jamie, I'm not calling you a liar. I apologize if I made it sound that way. I have a lot on my mind right now. I'm coming clean with Allison tomorrow about everything that happened with Muldoon. I'm just a little nervous about it."

"Oh, relax, I'm sure she'll understand. You didn't do nothin' that serious, did you?"

"No, I really didn't, but Allison may disagree. Say, have you heard any more about what's going on with the investigation of Janette's murder? I heard that Agent White was having a meeting with Captain Reese at the precinct about the Simmons and Paxton cases on Monday night around eight o'clock."

"No, Aaron, I ain't heard nothin'. Maybe White figured something out. Who knows?"

Morrison changed the subject to avoid any suspicion from O'Toole.

In the meantime, Muldoon and White were enjoying cocktails in her living room. White began to explain to Muldoon his plans for Monday night. "Jennings is bringing in two more FBI agents to help him with the surveillance and apprehension of the murderer on Monday. He will have a panel truck parked across the street two doors down to monitor our cameras in every room. You will be holding a panic button the entire evening, and if you see or hear anything suspicious, I want you to press the button. Jennings will respond immediately."

"Can't I just use a microphone to communicate with Agent Jennings?"

"No, I don't want your lips moving on camera. If you need Jennings, he will respond discreetly but quickly to make sure you are safe. My suspicions are that Hanson's cameras will be used by whoever is behind these murders. I can't be sure of that, but that is my assumption just in case."

"Jazz, I hope you know that I would never agree to do this. I know I have to do whatever you say as your agent, but this makes me very nervous."

"Erin, I love you, and I would never allow anything to happen to you."

"But you're not going to be here, Jazz. You'll be clear over at the precinct, and even if you can get here in seconds it could be too late."

"I understand, Erin, but in all three murder cases there was no sign of forced entry. We believe that the victims trusted the murderer. Either they knew him, or he appeared as someone they could trust. If anyone comes to your door, Jennings will be on his heels. This should go down easily."

"Can I keep my gun on me?"

White shook his head. "Do you carry your gun around the house when you are home?"

"Well, no, of course not."

"Then I don't want you carrying one on Monday night either. What do you normally wear when you are home alone?"

"Well, I'm often in my underwear and a bath robe."

"Then that's the way I want you to dress on Monday. If Hanson is involved, and he's watching, I want everything to appear normal. I'm sure he has seen you countless times at home alone."

Muldoon growled. "Uhhh, you have no idea how that infuriates me!"

"I understand, but if my suspicions are correct, and everything goes according to plan, we can implicate him as an accomplice in these murders. He'll spend the rest of his life in jail, if he even lives to go to trial."

Muldoon shot White a glance. "What do you mean if he lives? Are you planning to terminate him?"

"I'm not sure. It depends on what I find and the direction I get from the agency."

Muldoon poured them each another drink. "So, how many people have you killed?"

White looked at Muldoon with consternation. "I'm not allowed to divulge that, Erin. I try to avoid someone's termination at all costs, but sometimes it isn't possible."

"So, when am I going to start my agency training?"

"As soon as these murder cases are solved, I will bring you to my estate. I want you living with me during your training. You can do combat and defense training with my wife. She's far better than the agency trainers, and I want your skills honed to perfection. I have ways of accelerating your training, so it won't last nearly a year. However, you will receive a full training schedule. Once you graduate, you can choose to live anywhere in the world that you want."

"I can't believe that your wife doesn't mind you sleeping in my bed with me."

White laughed. "Oh, Erin, I have stories that you wouldn't believe. My wife and I trust one another implicitly. We are exclusive to one another. There is no way that we would violate that trust, and she knows it as well as I do. You are safe with me."

Morrison was still sleeping on the couch. He finished his last glass of Bushmills Whiskey and put his glass in the kitchen sink. He donned his pajamas and brushed his teeth in the half bath downstairs as he got ready for the night. He stretched out on the couch and pulled the blanket over his shoulders as he punched his pillow a couple of times to get comfortable. He was hoping to move back into his bedroom soon, but he was afraid that after tomorrow's discussion he might be looking for another place to live. He would do anything to keep Allison. He lay in the dark regretting every move that he had made with Muldoon. He wished that he could go back to the New Year's Eve party and start all over. He hated to admit to himself that Muldoon did provide a level of excitement, but he never wanted to cross the line. He had weakened considerably during those three days, and she looked ravishing the night of their dinner together. His heart sank deeply as he recalled returning home that night to learn of Janette's murder.

He had not disclosed to his parents where he was the night Janette died. They assumed that he was working, and they never asked any questions. They also were unaware that Morrison and Allison were having marital problems. His parents had been under too much stress already, and Allison had agreed to keep their problems a secret. However, if Allison threw in the towel on their marriage, it would be inevitable that his parents learned about it. His plan was to plead to Allison to delay a separation for the sake of his parents. He was trying to establish contingency plans for every scenario that he could possibly anticipate.

Morrison was on medical leave, and he had no idea how long it would last. In the past, if he and Allison ever had problems, he would submerge himself in his work, but that wasn't an option at this time. He had too much time to think, and it tortured him. Morrison and his wife were Irish Catholics, and divorce wasn't an option. However, it didn't mean that Allison wouldn't insist on a separation for an indefinite period of time. They could remain married legally, but live apart from one another. Morrison shuddered to think of leaving his family to live in some roach infested apartment. They were able to make ends meet, but they didn't have adequate funds to maintain two residences.

Sunday morning arrived too soon, and White rolled over to look at Muldoon's alarm clock that sat on her night stand. It was long before sunrise, and he quietly slid out of bed trying not to awaken her. He took his clothes for the day into the bathroom and shoved his pajamas into a bag. He then showered, shaved, dressed, and stealthily descended the steps to go into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee. He began rummaging through the refrigerator to see what they could fix for breakfast. There were no eggs, no bacon, no sausage, and no milk. It finally occurred to White that they would be going out for breakfast. He poured a cup of coffee and spooned in some stevia.

White knew that Muldoon was not an early riser. He sat on the couch sipping his coffee in the dark as he reviewed his plans for the day. The open house was from one to five o'clock in the afternoon. He could take Muldoon out for a nice brunch and meet up with Jennings in the panel truck to review the activity in Muldoon's house in the afternoon. He fully expected to see one of Hanson's hired men plant cameras throughout the house. One of the federal agents that Jennings had brought with him would pose as the realtor for the open house and give ample opportunity for someone to plant the cameras. If White could establish a link between Hanson's cameras and the murder attempt, he could easily have Hanson indicted for conspiracy to commit murder.

White began to wonder if cameras had been utilized in the other murders. If so, he doubted that those cameras still remained. There was a good chance that the killer removed the cameras before exiting the murder scene. White knew that Hanson was monitoring Muldoon to protect himself from her aggression to indict him on racketeering and murder charges. There was no way that Hanson would take White's word that Muldoon would back off. He was making sure that he had the means to learn if she had any new evidence on him. He had ears within the police department, and he wanted ears within her house. Hanson would be retiring soon, and in a few months he would leave Boston to live in Florida. However, White believed that Hanson wouldn't forsake his racketeering and smuggling opportunities once he migrated southward.

Suddenly, White heard Muldoon call out in distress. "Jazz?" He hurried up the steps and came to her side. She was in tears. She grabbed him into her arms. "Where were you? I had a horrible dream that I was being murdered, and when I awoke you weren't here."

White held her tightly and stroked the back of her hair. "It's all right, Erin, I went downstairs to make a pot of coffee. You're safe, don't worry." White slid into bed next to Muldoon as he held her. "Tell me all about your dream."

Morrison gathered his daughters' things to take to Grandma and Grandpa's house. The girls were spending the day with their grandparents while Morrison pled his case to Allison as a criminal begging for mercy before the judge. As much as Morrison and his wife had tried to conceal their problems from their daughters, the girls knew that something had changed. Morrison encouraged the girls not to mention anything to their grandparents about Mommy and Daddy's problems. He explained that they were still grieving Aunt Janette's death, and he didn't want them mentioning that either. The girls promised not to say anything.

Morrison headed back home as a man facing a murder charge. He was hoping that his sentence wasn't a lifetime of separation. He pulled into the driveway and tried to decide how he could possibly explain to Allison the stupid things that he had done. Allison was reticent as he entered the kitchen. She had made a pot of coffee, and she sat at the table as she began to sip from her favorite coffee cup. Morrison grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and took a seat at the table. Allison still hadn't said a word. Morrison began, "Allie, I love you more than life itself. I'll admit that I've done some stupid things, but you need to hear how it all unfolded. I never meant to do anything that could hurt you, and I didn't really step over the line." Morrison spent the next half hour explaining to Allison in great detail everything that happened between him and Muldoon while Allison was in Chicago.

Once Morrison had finished saying everything that he needed to say, Allison put her coffee cup in the sink and returned to the table. She looked at Morrison with anger and injury in her eyes. "Aaron, what if you were out of town, and I had an old boyfriend spend the night in Amy's room? What if he was so concerned for my stress level that he stripped me to my underwear and gave me a full body massage? What if he was so repentant for being jealous of a man that I was admiring that he felt he had to take me to dinner and asked me to spend the night with him at his house? Honestly, how would you handle that?"

Morrison looked like a whipped puppy. "I'd probably want to beat him senseless within an inch of his life."

"Yes, I understand that, but how would you deal with me if you heard that I entertained such a man?"

"I would be hurt and furious."

"That's not what I asked. I asked how you would deal with me."

Morrison felt a tear form in his left eye. "I honestly don't know, Allie. You've never done anything like that before."

"No, Aaron, I haven't, and it's not that I haven't had the opportunity. There are things that I don't tell you because I never ever let anyone get into a position to hurt you. However, if anyone ever did anything to me like what Erin Muldoon did to you, I would not only put him in his place, I would tell you immediately. I want to make this perfectly clear. If you ever come face to face with Erin Muldoon again, you and I are through. Do you understand me?" Morrison nodded repentantly. "I know that you explained that she quit the force, and she's moving out of town, so you should never have a reason to see her again. If I ever see her, I will beat her within an inch of her life. Is that understood?" Morrison nodded again as tears began to fall from his eyes. "Is there anything else that you haven't disclosed to me?" Morrison shook his head as he tried to clear his throat. "Good, because I think I have been pushed to my limit. I still want you sleeping on the couch. I have a lot to consider, and I would appreciate being alone right now."

White giggled as Muldoon couldn't make up her mind between the Eggs Benedict and the Huevos Rancheros. The waiter came to their table to refill their coffee cups, and White ordered both selections for Muldoon. He chose the Lox, Bagel, and Cream Cheese with a side of bacon. Muldoon feigned an indignant look. "Do you want me to get fat?"

White grinned. "That, my dear, could never happen. You look fantastic, and when your training is done, you will look magnificent."

Muldoon smiled and made a kissing gesture toward White. Her thoughts quickly turned toward her dog. "I hope Rex will be OK at the kennel. I've never left him there for more than a day."

White assured, "I'm sure he'll be fine. There's no way that we can leave him at your house for the next two days."

Muldoon cut into her tortilla with her fork. "When are we supposed to meet with Agent Jennings?"

"I'll call him right after brunch. He should already be in place on your street. We'll park down the block and walk to the panel truck."

"Where did you put my Lamborghini?"

"The feds have it in a garage. Don't worry, your car is safe. Nobody will notice our rental car. I hope you are accustomed to surveillance techniques. We need lots of coffee because it's boring beyond comprehension."

"I've done stakeouts before. I'll be fine."

White parked the car a block away from Jennings, who awaited in the panel truck. He walked around to help Muldoon from the car and took her arm as they leisurely strolled down the street. Once they had arrived at the panel truck, White rapped a cadence to Jennings, and he opened the back door. White helped Muldoon up as she squeezed inside. She took a seat, and White sat next to her. Everything was terribly cramped, and Muldoon gestured toward a small door at the back corner. "What's in there?"

White grinned. "That's the onboard potty, Sweetie. Where do you think all of this coffee goes?" The panel truck barely provided enough room for three people. Jennings had five monitors displaying the different rooms of Muldoon's house. Video monitors were split to provide a display of the different rooms with the ability to shift to single display and zoom capabilities if needed. Muldoon was amazed at the coverage of the video cameras. She was sickened by the idea that Hanson could also spy on her so freely in her own home. The open house had begun, and Jennings and White studied the cameras intently. They jabbed one another with elbows as they laughed at some of the people that entered their view. Suddenly, Jennings noticed a man looking at the big television and feigning a perusal behind the screen. He apparently planted a device to receive input from the television's camera. Jennings and White watched closely as he wandered from room to room. The man was trying to plant cameras as discreetly as possible, but they had every move recorded on camera with a good display of his face. Everything was going according to plan.

The open house was over, and White escorted Muldoon back to the rental car and drove her over to retrieve her Lamborghini. She followed him to return the rental and drove them back to her place. She fixed them a couple of drinks, and they began their conversations that they had prepared for whomever might be watching. They discussed plans of the coming week, and White explained to Muldoon that he had a meeting on Monday evening at eight o'clock to talk with Captain Reese about the murder cases. She pretended to be disappointed and complained about spending the evening all alone at her house.

The evening was drawing to a close. Hanson's cameras were in place. Muldoon wasn't aware of all of them, but she did know that one existed in her bedroom. It was showtime, and she was nervous. White slid into bed and began to caress her gently as he kissed her neck. He worked his way upward and found her lips. He made sure that their tongues were visible to the camera, and he continued his kisses and caresses as he descended to her navel. He licked and teased, and Muldoon began to writhe with delight. They had choreographed this sequence verbally, but not in actuality. He tucked his fingers into her underwear and pulled them over her knees. She bent her legs, and White slipped her undies over her heels and tossed them onto the floor.

Muldoon was beginning to sweat as White put his face into her crotch. His tongue never protruded from his mouth, but the action was more than Muldoon could bear. She convulsed into an orgasm, and White thought she was faking. It had been too long since a man had descended on her, and the thought that White's face was in her pelvis was overwhelmingly exhilarating. He grabbed the sheet and pulled it over his shoulders as he ascended to place his lips upon hers. He acted like he was removing his underwear and pulled another pair that had been planted under a pillow. He dropped the underwear to the floor for the camera and continued as he pretended to penetrate her. It was at that moment he realized that Muldoon was over her head emotionally. He went through the motions underneath the sheets as Muldoon held him tightly and wept. He very quietly whispered into her ear. "Erin, I am so sorry. This is too much for you. We need to bring this to a close. On my count of three, we will both fake orgasms and end this. One, two..."

Muldoon convulsed and writhed once again. Tears streamed from her eyes and down the sides of her face as they soaked her pillow. White faked his orgasm as he lamented Muldoon's emotional condition. She was not a trained agent yet, and she couldn't separate her own emotions from the scene that they had to portray. However, it did provide a convincing performance for the audience of one. White held her tightly as Muldoon continued to weep with emotion. He whispered into her ear. "It's OK, Erin, it's going to be all right. I'm taking you to my wife tomorrow morning to clear your conscience. Everything will be fine." He sweetly kissed her neck and her lips as she wept.

Hanson turned his glass upward to suck the rest of the Bourbon out of his ice. He shook his head and picked up his phone to make a call. He continued to watch his television as he saw White holding Muldoon. White reached up and turned out the light. The show was over. There was nothing more to see. Hanson clicked off his television with the remote control. He was thoroughly convinced that Muldoon and White were lovers. He finished his conversation and turned off his television to go upstairs to bed. It had been a long day, and Hanson was confident that he was about to see the end of a very long road with a rival.

## CHAPTER EIGHT

### _The Best Laid Plans_

MORRISON AWOKE WITH the sun in his eyes. He squinted as he sat upright. He could smell the coffee in the kitchen, and he pushed on his knees as he arose from the couch. When he entered the kitchen, he saw the girls dressed and Allison with full makeup. They were obviously leaving for the day. Allison looked up at Morrison briefly as she served the girls their eggs. "There's bacon over there if you want it. You'll have to fix your own eggs. The girls and I are headed for an outing with their classmates." She busied herself with the dishes and cleaning the pans. She paid no attention to Morrison and encouraged the girls to finish their breakfast. She jogged up the stairs to get dressed. Morrison retrieved a cup from the cabinet and poured himself some coffee. He opened the fridge, but there was no cream. He disappointedly looked around for the sugar and grabbed the bowl from the table. He dumped some into his coffee and stirred.

Allison returned and scurried about to get the girls out of the house as soon as possible. It had been a whirlwind, and Morrison sat at his kitchen table all alone. In the past, Allison made sure to have everything that he enjoyed and needed, but lately she had neglected supplying anything that Morrison desired. It was no subtle hint that Allison was perturbed. Morrison understood. At least he was still abiding in his own home, and he was thankful for that. Today was the day that the FBI was releasing Janette's body to the funeral home. He knew that Janette had been decapitated, and he hoped that the funeral home would be discreet enough to withhold that information from his parents. He planned to make the mortuary his first stop of the day.

Allison and the girls were gone, and Morrison took advantage of the opportunity to enjoy the shower to get ready for his day. He shaved and picked out his clothing with the anticipation of finalizing the funeral plans for Janette. As unpleasant as this was, he wanted to get her final arrangements solidified with a minimal amount of grief to his parents. Janette had suffered a brutal murder, and he wasn't sure if an open casket was feasible. His parents were unaware of Janette's severed head, and Morrison fully intended to keep it that way. He was hoping that the mortician could hide the fact that she had been decapitated. His parents were aware of the release of Janette's body, but Morrison encouraged them to stay home while he represented their wishes.

Later that morning at the mortuary, Morrison had insisted on seeing his sister's body, and he fell into extreme grief to see her head detached. It took him several minutes to regain his composure. He wished that Allison was at his side, but he had to endure this on his own. He asked what the funeral director could do to reattach her head and make it look natural. The mortician had confidence that they could align it properly, but due to the tissue damage he encouraged Morrison to choose a high necked dress for the showing. That meant that the dress that his mother had chosen would need to be revisited. The funeral director offered the option of a scarf, but it would require that no one touch or remove it.

It was noon on Monday, and Morrison wanted to drown himself in an ocean of beer. He drove over to O'Leary's pub for a burger and a pitcher. He didn't want to talk to Hanson, or O'Toole, or White, and he didn't even want to talk to Arty the bartender. He just wanted to numb his mind with enough alcohol that he could escape the emotional pain for a while. He hated the fact that the last sight he had of his sister was with her head lying next to her body. There was no question about whether he would accept Horatio Paxton's offer. He wanted this son of a bitch of a murderer to suffer. Death was too good for him. Morrison's thoughts turned to White who said that he would help take this perpetrator down. White said that he didn't operate under the confines of the law. He also told Morrison that White's wife was a killing machine. Perhaps there was more to offer from Agent White than Morrison had anticipated. He sat and pondered as he devoured his burger.

Muldoon and White were enjoying a drink in his hotel room in the early afternoon. Muldoon turned to White as she handed him a glass of Jameson Whiskey. "Jazz, I can't help it. I feel terrible. I mean, I really appreciate your wife. She's loving, caring, understanding, encouraging, and supportive. She explained to me that she herself was put into a similar situation with you during your first marriage, and you both had to fake sex to convince others that you were husband and wife during a mission."

"Yes, that is true. She knows what you are feeling, but trust us, it's not love for me that you suffer. It's the fact that you haven't been with a man in quite some time. For god's sake, Erin, you hated me just over a week ago."

"Damn it, Jazz, you know full well that a week in your world can equate to months in mine. I can't help how I feel."

"No, Erin, you can help it. You need your agent training as soon as possible. This will all pass soon enough, but tonight is the night that we need to catch the perpetrator. It's good that you are in character as my lover, and we need to keep it that way for the time being. However, if tonight proves to be what I hope then we can dispense with this charade and move forward with you as my agent."

Muldoon stroked White's chest and shook her head as she pleaded. "Get me drunk, Jazz. Get me good and drunk because I'm scared out of my mind to be home alone tonight."

White took Muldoon's glass from her hand. "We can't let that happen. You need to be sober for tonight, and I need you to be sharp." Muldoon looked up with desire and planted her lips upon White's. He pulled away. "Save your affection for the cameras, Erin. We have a job to do."

Muldoon and White spent the rest of the afternoon with FBI Agents Jennings, Ferguson, and Green. The agents needed to stay hidden in the panel truck, which would be parked across the street. If anyone peeked inside, they wouldn't be able to detect the agents in the back. It had an external camera to watch the front of her house. Ferguson and Green were there to provide backup for Jennings. They would be monitoring the cameras in Muldoon's house, and if Jennings needed to leave the van they would be at his side with weapons drawn. Jennings explained to Muldoon that he wanted her to act as she usually would any other night alone. He gave Muldoon a bottle of Jameson Whiskey that had a nonalcoholic liquid inside. She could appear to be drinking for the cameras while staying alert and sober the entire evening. She was to keep the panic button discreetly hidden in her hand or in the pocket of her robe where she could easily retrieve it. No one knew exactly what to expect. The other murders showed no signs of forced entry, so there was doubt that Muldoon would hear anything suspicious. Whoever the perpetrator was, he had to have gained entrance to the residences by instilling trust in his victims.

Morrison returned home from O'Leary's pub. He was too distraught to stop by his parents house to update them on the funeral arrangements. He was at an all time low in his life as he sat on the couch staring out the front window. He was relieved and sadden by the thought that he would never see Erin Muldoon again. He still couldn't believe that Agent White was intending to use her as bait to catch the butcher that murdered Janette. He was fighting back tears as he wondered where his life would lead next. His world had been turned upside down in a matter of two weeks.

He heard the back door open, and he knew that Allison had returned from the outing with the girls' school class. In the past, he would have been elated to hear her return, but today he dreaded the confrontation. Allison was barely hanging on to their marriage. Morrison had injured her emotionally far more than he anticipated. Allison caught sight of Morrison sitting on the couch as she was heading toward the stairway with several shopping bags. She set the bags on the floor and turned to take a seat next to him. He didn't move as he stared out the window.

After a few moments, Allison began to apologize. "Aaron, I'm sorry that I haven't thanked you for getting me and the girls out of town. I would most likely be the one whose funeral you were planning if you hadn't taken that precaution. Who knows what that madman might have done to our girls? I was just so upset when you told me what happened while I was gone. I really hadn't been able to get past those thoughts until today." Allison reached over and took Morrison by the upper left arm. "Thank you, Aaron, for having the foresight to protect us."

The tears finally fell from Morrison's eyes as he grabbed Allison into his arms. They wept on one another's shoulders as the emotional healing began. Morrison choked out a response. "I couldn't live without you, Allie. Together, we can get through anything, but I would never make it without you."

Allison nodded as her tears fell. "Me too."

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you. It will never happen again." Morrison was so relieved that his nights on the couch were over. He took Allison by the hand and led her up the stairs to their bedroom. They made sweet love for the rest of the afternoon. After they were fully sated by their passion, he held her in his arms as they cuddled together under the sheets. Their family would finally be back in order. He was so grateful that he and Allison had made amends before Janette's funeral. Morrison and Allison could now help their daughters deal with Aunt Janette's death together as loving parents without the strain of what they had just suffered together emotionally.

White and Muldoon went to a local restaurant for dinner. The anticipated evening had nearly stifled her appetite, and White didn't want her to appear on camera without her usual hunger. They reviewed their planned discussions for the evening and what they intended onlookers to see and hear. White refused to have another pseudo sex scene due to Muldoon's susceptibility to being overcome with passion. Instead, they would have a romantic interlude of kissing on the couch before he left to meet with Captain Reese at the precinct to review case files. White reminded her not to drink any alcohol for the evening.

Everyone was in position. Agents Jennings, Ferguson, and Green were stationed in the panel truck across the street. They checked all of the monitors. They had every room covered as well as all of the entrances. The external camera was focused on Muldoon's front walk and porch. White had Muldoon go upstairs and strip down to her underwear before donning her robe. She returned, and he handed her a drink from the bottle of nonalcoholic liquid that Jennings had put into the Jameson Whiskey bottle. White took Muldoon's glass from her hand and set it on the coffee table. He pulled her in for a loving embrace and kissed his way from her chest to her lips. Their tongues teased and caressed one another as White made sure that Hanson's cameras could get a good show. That was Jennings' cue to call a taxi for White. Muldoon's breathing had increased considerably, and she was breaking into a sweat. White decided to back off.

Muldoon looked longingly into White's eyes. He handed her drink back and pulled her into his arm as he held her on the couch. "I'm sorry that I have to be gone tonight, but I should be back in less than two hours. If you stay up for me, we'll finish what we started." White held her in his right arm for several minutes as they slowly sipped their drinks together.

Muldoon's longing look turned to fear as she looked over at White. She quietly begged in his ear. "Please, Jazz, don't leave me here. I can't do this."

White took the glass from Muldoon once again and pushed her down on the couch on her back. He climbed on top of her and began kissing her profusely as he whispered. "You're going to be just fine. We have you covered, Erin. I need for you to relax and act like you're having an evening alone. Read a book as we discussed so that you can hear if anything unusual happens." White heard the horn of the taxi out front. "I need to go now."

Muldoon clung to White as he tried to go for his coat. He pulled her into his arms once again for another blissful interlude. He finally freed himself to slip on his overcoat and exit through the front door. He climbed into the cab and headed to the precinct where Captain Reese awaited. The stage was set. There was nothing to do but wait. Muldoon was sorely tempted to retrieve her handgun and sit with her back in a corner to wait for her intruder. However, she knew that if Hanson's cameras were instrumental in the murder that no one would show. Instead, she grabbed a book and sat on the couch facing the front window. She had no interest in the book, but she had to keep turning pages at a reasonable rate to appear to be reading. Muldoon's trepidation grew with each passing minute. All was quiet, and she was sure that White had enough time to reach the precinct. If something were going to happen, it would have to be soon.

White settled into a conference room with Captain Reese. Reese was curious what White wanted to discuss. Agent Jennings had told Reese to back off because the murder cases were an FBI matter now. What help did Agent White expect from Captain Reese? In reality, White had nothing to say to Reese. All he needed was an alibi to be elsewhere other than Muldoon's house. White began spreading paperwork out on the conference table as Reese watched. White looked up and explained, "Captain Reese, I may get an important call while I'm here, and if so, I will need to leave the room immediately to take it. I just didn't want to appear rude if I exited abruptly."

Reese shook his head, "Oh, no, no, that's not a problem Agent White, but tell me, what is your purpose for this meeting?"

"Well, Captain, I need your opinion." White began rotating documents in front of Reese and comparing common and uncommon aspects to the murders. He shifted Reese's attention so quickly that he seldom had a chance to respond. White was stalling, and he knew that it would take Reese a considerable time before he realized that White was using him.

Suddenly, a Boston police patrol car quickly rolled to a stop in front of Muldoon's house with the lights off. The FBI agents were on alert, and Jennings drew his weapon. Agents Ferguson and Green followed suit and awaited Jennings' lead. The police officer stepped outside the patrol car and started up Muldoon's front walk. Jennings slipped out of the panel truck quietly and moved into position behind the patrolman as he stepped up onto the porch. Agent Ferguson swung ten feet to Jennings' left, while Agent Green swung to his right. Guns were focused on the patrolman as he rapped on the front door. "Boston police department, open up ma'am!"

The three FBI agents crouched to the ground. Jennings shouted, "This is the FBI. Put your hands behind your head and drop to your knees." Muldoon flipped off the light, sprang from the couch, and jumped into the chair by the window. She saw the officer on her front porch put his hands behind his head and turn to face the FBI agents before he knelt. Jennings held the patrolman at gunpoint as Agent Green advanced to take the patrolman's weapon. Green forced the patrolman onto his stomach and handcuffed him behind his back. The patrolman looked up at Green. "What's going on? I'm responding to a 9-1-1 call for a domestic disturbance at this address."

Green responded. "We'll verify that soon enough. Right now you are under arrest for suspicion of murder."

Jennings made the call to White. White excused himself and left the conference room. "What's up, Jennings?"

"We have what appears to be a Boston police officer in a patrol car who claims that he is responding to a 9-1-1 call for a domestic disturbance. He demanded that Muldoon open up to him. We have him contained at the moment. Agent Green is verifying the 9-1-1 call right now."

White shouted, "Jennings, no! The murderer is in the house!"

Jennings pulled the key to Muldoon's front door from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. As he opened the door, he saw the shadow of someone fleeing out the back. Muldoon was lying naked on the dining room floor with piano wire around her neck. She was unconscious. Jennings made sure that she was still breathing and rushed out the back door. It was too late. The intruder was gone. When Jennings returned to the dining room, White had covered Muldoon's naked body with her robe and was taking the wire from her neck. Agents Ferguson and Green were holding the patrolman in custody in the back of his patrol car.

White hung his head. "My god, Jennings, another thirty seconds and Erin would have been dead."

Jennings was shocked that the perpetrator had intended to murder Muldoon within a few meters of the FBI. "Shall I call an ambulance?"

White looked up with tears in his eyes. "No, I'm taking her to one of my agency clinics. Take the police officer into custody at Chelsea, and follow up on that 9-1-1 call. Meet me back here after I make sure Erin is all right. I'll call you."

Jennings was aware of White's navigational capabilities. In fact, Jennings worked for White at the agency. The agency had thousands of trained personnel in various roles throughout the world. Some were senators, ambassadors, law enforcement officers, janitors, professors, and many other positions that gave an advantage of relaying important information. However, FBI Agents Ferguson and Green had no idea what White's talents were, nor did they have any knowledge of the agency, and they were confused how White could have gotten to Muldoon's house so quickly. Jennings dismissed their questions and said that White must have been on his way back to Muldoon's while the incident took place.

Several hours later, White and Jennings met in the panel truck alone. They needed to analyze the evening and the video recordings of what transpired inside the house. White looked circumspectly. "Do we have any real alcohol in this van?" Jennings chuckled and handed White a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue. White looked graciously at Jennings. "I could kiss you, but I won't."

Jennings began to reposition the video for analysis. He glanced over at White. "How's Muldoon?"

"Oh, thank god, she's fine. The perp gave her an injection that knocked her out for about twenty minutes. Luckily, he hadn't done her any real harm in the short period of time that he had, but it wouldn't have been long before he took her life."

"Did you take her to your place?"

"I did. She's safe with my wife, and my personal assistant, Kristina, is caring for her. She's in good hands."

Jennings glanced over again. "You've developed some feelings for this girl, haven't you?"

White hung his head and sighed. "Yes, Jennings, I'm afraid I have. I told my wife, and she completely understands, but I feel like such a rookie sometimes."

Jennings laughed. "You're anything but a rookie, Boss."

The video was positioned for analysis, but White turned to Jennings before he started the playback. "Jennings, what's your take on the police officer? Do you think he was collaborating with the murderer?"

"Well, right now it's hard to say. The 9-1-1 call checked out, and as we suspected, it came from a burner phone. That doesn't mean that the police officer wasn't working in cahoots with the murderer. We're holding him for further questioning, and Ferguson is following up on the patrolman's whereabouts during the other murders."

"That's good, Jennings, but there could be more than one person helping the murderer. Be sure to check on the patrolman's interaction with the victims' husbands. We still don't know the motive behind these murders. Let's watch the videos."

There was less than one minute of time to analyze on the video. Both agents sat in silence as they replayed the sequence over and over. White poured them both two more drinks during the interlude. After the fifteenth iteration, White sat back in his chair as he sipped his Scotch. "Well, Jennings, this has been very revealing."

Officer McClanahan was being detained in Chelsea at FBI headquarters. The Boston Police Department was abuzz with rumors, indignations, anger, disgust, and contempt for the FBI. McClanahan's cohorts were outraged at the prospect that he had anything to do with the murders. The Chief of Police was demanding a meeting with Agent Jennings to explain the reasoning behind detaining McClanahan for questioning, since he was merely doing his job. Morrison was seething with the prospect that Erin Muldoon had nearly been killed due to White botching the attempt to trap the murderer. White was pleased that everyone was sufficiently polarized emotionally, and he intended to aggravate the situation as much as possible.

White gave Jennings his directive. "By now, we have become the most unpopular people in the city of Boston. Pay close attention to everyone you talk with, and note the ones who don't appear to be outraged and livid beyond expression. We're looking for those who don't hate us because they are most likely the ones behind these murders. I'm going back to my estate for a while. As soon as Muldoon is ready to start her training, I want to get her engaged. She's never coming back here." White disappeared, and Jennings set up a meeting with the Chief of Police.

That morning, Jennings appeared to meet with Chief Clancy. He waited as the Administrative Assistant offered to get him some coffee. He respectfully declined and patiently sat until the Chief was ready to receive him. Finally, he took a seat in the office as Clancy closed the door. Chief Clancy slid into his chair behind his desk and shook his head as he gestured with his palms upward. "I don't even know where to begin." Jennings patiently waited with folded hands. "Honestly, Agent Jennings, you have put me into a very difficult position. The citizens of Boston are losing faith in their police department. Granted, we have suffered some corruption in the past, but we have done our level best to eradicate it from the department. Now, you are implicating a police officer in the murders of his fellow officers' wives. Surely, you have to know how this looks to our public, and you have no evidence that Officer McClanahan was guilty of any offense."

Jennings cleared his throat. "Actually, we were wondering how Officer McClanahan came to be involved in a crime scene that coincided with the possible accessory to murder. How are we to suppose that McClanahan isn't helping the perpetrator?"

"For god's sake, Jennings, what is his motive? We checked the records. He wasn't anywhere near the other crime scenes."

"I don't know, Chief, maybe he's being paid off. We have no idea at this point what his involvement is, but we're interrogating him."

"Goddamnit, Jennings, I've know Tommy McClanahan since he was a kid. I know his family, and believe me, they are fine people. This is ridiculous. You're casting aspersions on this department for no good reason. You and Agent White dismissed our number one suspect due to the flimsy excuse that his nail scratches were too deep, and the tissue under the victim's fingernails wasn't deep enough. That convict had recently been released from prison for rape, and now you are protecting him."

Jennings rebutted, "Actually, Chief Clancy, the suspect did not fit the profile nor the attributes of the evidence found at the crime scenes. In addition, his alibi checks out with camera images that were reviewed from places that he had been the night of the murder. I can guarantee that Cravens is not our suspect. However, we are still verifying the claims that our current suspect, McClanahan, has provided, and when we are certain that he is above suspicion we will release him."

"You just can't take responsibility for your own screw ups, can you? Your attempt to catch the murderer by using one of our former officers as bait failed miserably. You nearly got her killed, and all you can do is hold one of our police officers without any evidence. You know, I had high hopes when you agents came in to help, but now I consider your actions as an obstruction of justice. I expect you to release McClanahan and give a full apology to the press. Otherwise, I will be forced to file a complaint with your superior."

Jennings arose from his chair to leave. "Well, you can file all of the complaints that you want, but I doubt that you will want to work with my superior. Good day, Chief Clancy."

At the same time that Jennings had met with Clancy, Agent White stood knocking at Detective Morrison's front door. Allison was drying her hands with a dish towel as she answered. "Yes, can I help you?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Morrison, I'm Agent White. I apologize for the intrusion. I have been assigned to your sister-in-law's murder case, and I'd like to speak with Aaron for just a few minutes. Is he available?"

Allison stepped to the side and invited White into the living room. "Aaron's upstairs; I'll let him know that you're here."

White was counting on Morrison holding his tongue about Muldoon since Allison was within earshot. Morrison quickly descended the stairs. "You have a lot nerve showing up at my house like this White. You know how upset I am with you."

White stood to face Morrison. "Yes, I understand your consternation." White leaned toward Morrison with a whisper. "By the way, Erin is fine. She's at my estate, safe and sound." White smiled and stood upright. "I need your help, as I explained to you a few days ago. I need for you to ask Horatio Paxton to persuade a judge in the next two hours to issue a search warrant for Jonathan Hanson's house under the suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder."

Morrison wrinkled his brow in shock. "You think Hanson is behind these murders? Do you have any evidence?"

"Well, I think he might be an accomplice somehow, but I'm not at liberty to disclose what we have. Please, get a hold of Paxton immediately. I need that warrant before it's too late, and please, text me with the details. Time is of the essence." Horatio Paxton obviously had a lot of influence because White had the search warrant within an hour.

Detective Hanson was looking forward to retirement. He headed home early for the day and wandered into the kitchen where his wife was preparing dinner. He kissed her on the cheek and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Dinner smelled delightful, and Hanson always appreciated that his wife was an excellent cook. He sat at the kitchen table and told about his boring day and how much he wanted to get down to Vero Beach. His wife smiled as she stirred the beef stew that simmered on the stove. They had planned to put their home on the market within a couple of weeks, and Mrs. Hanson had been busy clearing storage areas and closets to prepare to show the house. Hanson kissed his wife again and excused himself to go to the basement family room to watch television until dinner was ready.

However, Hanson received an incredible shock as he descended the stairs and saw the video of Muldoon's attempted murder playing on his TV. He got a further shock to see Agents White and Jennings comfortably seated in two chairs while White played the scene over and over. "What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in here?"

White smiled up at Hanson. "Someone must have left the door open. Welcome home."

Hanson looked back at the television where White kept playing the attempted murder. "You got no right coming in here and messing with my equipment."

White pulled the search warrant from his coat. "Oh, but we do have a right, Jonathan. We have a search warrant, and you are now under arrest for being an accomplice to attempted murder. Cuff him, Jennings, and we'll have Ferguson and Green confiscate all of this equipment."

Hanson protested as Jennings handcuffed him behind his back. "You got no proof, and I had nothing to do with that murder attempt. I was just keeping an eye on Muldoon."

White grinned at Hanson. "Well, you have a video recording of the attempted murder, and there is no record of you reporting it to the authorities. I'd say that definitely makes you an accomplice. I warned you about this Jonathan, but you didn't listen. Read him his rights, Jennings, and I'll call Ferguson and Green."

Later that evening, White phoned Morrison. "Aaron, I need to talk to you about your sister's case. Is there any way that you could meet me at O'Leary's this evening?" Morrison conferred with Allison and agreed to be at the pub around eight o'clock. White secured a table in the back barroom around seven thirty. The barmaid stopped by to take his order and commented on his dark tan. She asked where he had been, and he admitted to spending time in the South Pacific. He slipped her a twenty dollar bill and ordered a Canadian beer. Morrison wasn't going to like what White had to tell him, but the sooner he knew the situation, the better.

Morrison showed a little early, which pleased White. "Drinks are on me, Aaron. We have a lot to discuss." Morrison threw his coat over the back of his chair and took a seat. "You're a good man, Aaron, and you have admirable integrity. I want you to know that I will help you any way that I can, but this isn't a typical serial murder. I don't think that you or Horatio Paxton are going to get your satisfaction."

Morrison ordered a Guinness and turned to White. "I thought you said that Detective Hanson was behind these murders."

"Well, I suspicion that he might be involved, but I seriously doubt that he is the perpetrator. This is way out of his league."

Morrison shook his head. "I don't understand."

"We had cameras positioned in Erin's house that showed the killer as he subdued her. Detective Hanson also had cameras at Erin's, and we have evidence that he captured the attempted murder on his video recordings. Therefore, we arrested him for conspiracy to commit murder, but I really don't think he was behind this."

Morrison reached up to take his beer from the barmaid. "So, did you get any identifying characteristics of the killer?"

"Well, yes we did, but you're not going to like this. This is an FBI matter, so I can't let you view the video, but I can describe it in great detail. Remember when I told you that my wife was a killing machine?"

"Yeah, I do, but I'm not sure what that means."

"I can't tell you everything, but my wife is a retired global assassin. She's the best in the business, and she is well sought after as the ultimate terminator. Luckily, we live in seclusion, and few people know where we are. She amassed a fortune selling her talents to the highest bidder. If you ever saw her in action, you would liken it to an exquisite ballet. She does things that you can't comprehend even with your eyes. The reason that I'm telling you this is that the killer that we have on video is of the same caliber. When I reviewed the recording, I knew in an instant that he is a global assassin. He is extremely efficient, and he wastes no moves or any time."

"You need to explain this to me, White. What do you mean that he doesn't waste moves?"

"OK, but what I have to tell you may be disturbing due to your relationship with Erin. Please, just bear with me. Officer McClanahan pounded on Erin's door. The video shows Erin turning off the light by the couch and leaping into the chair by the front window to watch what was happening. Within seconds, the cameras showed the killer dressed completely in black from head to foot. He injected a sleeping agent into her neck with a drug pen and pulled her robe from her body in one motion. He quickly carried her to the dining room where he had a bag. He cut her bra and underwear from her body with an incredibly sharp knife and stuffed them into the bag in less than three seconds. He wrapped piano wire around her neck with four turns, and as he reached into the bag, Agent Jennings opened the front door. His next move would have ended her life."

"OK, so does your wife have any clue who this might be?"

"That's just it, Aaron, we have no idea if the killer is male or female. There are thousands of these assassins throughout the world. Whoever is behind this has serious connections to a world that you don't know. We have little hope of finding who actually murdered your sister. Our only hope is to find the person who ordered the murders."

Morrison gave a snort and leaned back in his chair as he snapped his fingers for the barmaid. He ordered two more beers. "So, you're telling me that the sick fuck who butchered my sister will go free?"

"Like I said, Aaron, it's a world that you don't know. Assassins are never brought to justice. Regardless of who wielded the knife, someone had to be responsible for ordering it. Think of it as the assassin being the gun in a shooting. You don't prosecute the gun, you prosecute the person who fired it."

Morrison was seething as tears formed in his eyes. "So, you're telling me that whoever cut off my sister's head will go free?"

"Not if you see it from the appropriate perspective, Aaron. Assassins are murder weapons. The question becomes, 'Who ordered the assassinations?' Please keep this to yourself, but due to my wife's expertise, I let her analyze the video. She assured me that the person in the video was a highly trained professional terminator of the first class. This had to cost a lot of money because these assassins don't come cheap. The only other way is if someone owed someone else an enormous favor."

"So, let me get this straight. We're no longer looking for a killer, but we're looking for someone who pulled the strings?"

"In essence, yes, that is true. My next question is whether Horatio Paxton will be satisfied with bringing down the one who ordered the killings. Personally, I'd like to see you collect the two hundred thousand dollars, but I'm not sure that Paxton will agree."

Morrison sat with a pensive demeanor for several moments as he nodded his head and tapped the table with his right forefinger. "I just want to kill the fucker who murdered my sister, that's all!"

"Well, if you and Paxton can agree on the definition of 'the fucker who killed your sister,' I may be able to help."

## CHAPTER NINE

### _Think Tank_

WHITE WAS PERPLEXED with a logistics problem. His best move was to get everyone together who had been assigned to these cases to brainstorm and try to determine the motive behind these murders. However, that would require Morrison and Muldoon to be in the same room together, and Allison wouldn't permit it. An online conference wasn't an option because it would stifle creativity and inhibit everyone reading another's body language. He certainly didn't want to put Muldoon and Allison in the same room together. It's foolish get fire too close to gasoline. He needed to have a discussion with Allison. Everyone thought that Muldoon and White were lovers, except for Morrison. If he could convince Allison that Muldoon wasn't interested in her husband, he might be able to get her to agree to allow them to attend a brainstorming conference.

White phoned Morrison to schedule a meeting with him and Allison. He didn't want to cause more friction in their marriage, but Morrison and Muldoon were the two principal investigators that he needed to utilize. He wanted to invite Paxton as well, but he needed to get off the drugs beforehand. So far, he had planned to have Morrison, Muldoon, Paxton, Jennings, and himself in attendance. He struggled with the idea of having Captain Reese attend, but it might be worthwhile to hear his perspective, although he doubted that Reese could be objective.

There was just one more wrinkle to consider with Muldoon. She had begun her agency training, and her physique had improved greatly. In addition, she had unlimited funds at her disposal, and she had been utilizing them to enhance her appearance. Muldoon was always a beautiful young woman. However, these days she was an absolute knock out. If Allison caught sight of her, there would be trouble for Morrison. If Morrison saw her, he would flip. In addition, no one would understand how Muldoon could transform so quickly. One of White's well kept secrets was the time disparity that he utilized to operate. Nonetheless, he had a job to do.

White sat in Morrison's living room sipping coffee as Morrison and his wife sat on the couch across from him. They were past preliminary pleasantries, and it was time to discuss business. White set his cup on the coffee table. "Mrs. Morrison, I'm here to ask your permission to continue my investigation into Janette's murder. I am at a juncture that requires me to bring all of the investigators together to brainstorm and think of any possible motives for these murders. In order to do that, I will need to bring Aaron and Muldoon to the same table. However, I won't do this without your express permission. I understand the emotional turmoil that you have suffered lately, and I respect your feelings."

Allison looked over at Morrison and studied his face. She turned back to Agent White. "I've heard that you and Erin Muldoon are together now. Does her involvement with my husband cause you any concern?"

"Actually, no, it does not. I realize that her actions may have been misconstrued, and I'm well aware of the massage that she gave to your husband. As inappropriate as that was, Muldoon was innocently trying to help a friend. You don't know her the way that I do. She can often act in a very naive fashion. She never meant to upset you, Mrs. Morrison, and she's very sorry that she has. Please know that Muldoon will be with me the entire time that we meet, and when business is over I will take her back home with me far from here."

Tears formed in Allison's eyes as she turned to Morrison. "What do you think, Aaron?"

Morrison shrugged his shoulders. "I don't see a problem with it myself. If bringing everyone together to determine possible motives for these murders will help, I'm all for it."

Allison turned back to White. "If I say, 'no,' I will look like an insanely jealous wife. However, I'm not comfortable with the arrangement. I will agree on one condition. The meeting has to be held in our home with me present."

White took a deep breath and gave a long sigh. Not only would fire meet gasoline, but a little dynamite was going to be thrown in as well. "Normally, Mrs. Morrison, I wouldn't allow you to attend a classified meeting such as this, but if I have your guarantee that you will never disclose our discussion to anyone, for your sake I will agree."

"You have my word, Agent White. When would you like to have the meeting?"

"The sooner, the better, how about seven o'clock this evening?"

"This evening?! Well, I guess I better start cleaning my house then. I'll be ready at seven, and I'll have some refreshments for everyone."

White rose from his chair. "Thank you, Mrs. Morrison, I greatly appreciate this. I'll see you both tonight."

Morrison followed White onto his porch. "Thanks for taking Allison into consideration, Agent White."

White gave Morrison a look of concern. "The last thing I want to do is upset your wife, Aaron. However, I don't want you to get blindsided this evening. Erin Muldoon has gone through an amazing transformation, and you need to brace yourself."

Morrison gave White a dubious look. "She's only been gone a couple of days."

"Do you believe in time warps, Aaron?"

Morrison laughed. "No, White, I don't. That's way too much science fiction for me."

"OK, well, hold that thought until tonight." White headed toward the street and walked in the direction of Mrs. Denton's house. Morrison shook his head and returned to Allison in his living room.

As White approached Mrs. Denton's residence, Agent Jennings emerged from a car parked at the curb. Together, they climbed the steps to the porch and rang her doorbell. Mrs. Denton opened, and Agent Jennings displayed his FBI badge. "Good morning, Mrs. Denton, I am Agent Jennings from the FBI, and this is Agent White. We need to ask you a few questions about a murder case."

Mrs. Denton's eyes widened. "Oh, my, what do I have to do with a murder case?"

"Well, Mrs. Denton, you may unknowingly have information that could be helpful to us. May we come in?"

Mrs. Denton opened the door for the agents. "Yes, please come in, and I'll make us some tea."

Jennings and White took a seat at the dining room table and awaited Mrs. Denton. She served the tea and brought some shortbread cookies to the table with napkins. Jennings began, "Mrs. Denton, are you aware of the murder of your neighbor's sister?"

Mrs. Denton leaned forward. "Oh, my, yes, I did hear about that. What a tragedy, but she didn't live near here did she?"

"No, Mrs. Denton, she did not, but were you aware that Detective Morrison was investigating another murder case at the time?"

"Why, no, I had no idea. What does all of this have to do with me?"

Agent White was examining one of the shortbread cookies. "Do these cookies have sugar in them?"

Mrs. Denton blinked a few times. "Well, I would imagine so. I bought them at the store. I can bring you the package if you like."

"No, that won't be necessary. I'm sure they do contain sugar. That's too bad because I don't eat sugar, and I really like shortbread cookies. Mrs. Denton, do you remember your conversation with Detective Morrison last week?"

"Yes, I do. He stopped by for a few minutes to ask me about Officer O'Toole."

White gave Mrs. Denton a dubious look. "No, he came by to ask who knew that you were going to the airport the night you flew to Atlanta to visit your daughter and grandson."

"Oh, yes, that's right, now I remember."

"Mrs. Denton, did he tell you why he was asking you about your vacation?"

"Well, I think he said that someone told him my taxi had been canceled."

"But he didn't mention that his questioning was in regard to a murder?"

"Oh, goodness, no, Agent White, what would my taxi have to do with a murder?"

"Well, it's a good thing that he didn't mention the murder case because if he had, you could be charged with obstructing justice."

Mrs. Denton sat upright in her chair and looked back and forth at Jennings and White. "Whatever are you talking about?"

White continued. "Mrs. Denton, our questioning today pertains to the murder case that Detective Morrison was investigating. Please explain why you called Detective Morrison to take you to the airport when your taxi did not show."

"Well, he's just a few doors down, and he seemed to be an obvious choice."

White glanced over at Jennings and back to Mrs. Denton. "Detective Morrison wanted to know who knew about your vacation, but he failed to ask you a very important question. Did you cancel your taxi the evening that you were scheduled to go to the airport?"

Mrs. Denton looked like a deer caught in the headlights. She looked down toward her lap. "Oh, my, am I in some sort of trouble?"

"That all depends, Mrs. Denton. If you tell us the whole truth today, you have nothing to fear, but if we catch you lying we will have to arrest you for obstructing justice and lying to the FBI. Do you understand?"

Mrs. Denton quickly nodded her head. "Please, I had no idea that my taxi had anything to do with a murder case."

"You need to explain to us why you canceled your taxi and asked Detective Morrison to take you to the airport."

Mrs. Denton retrieved a tissue from a nearby table and dabbed her eyes. "My husband passed away ten years ago. It was unexpected, and I have had to live on the retirement and Social Security checks since then. Lately, it has been hard to make ends meet. I was surprised when a man came to my door the day before my trip to Atlanta. He was an attractive young man and nicely dressed. He said that he needed a favor, and he offered me ten thousand dollars in cash that he held in a bag. All he asked was that I cancel my taxi that I had scheduled and ask Detective Morrison to take me to the airport."

"Didn't you find that to be an odd request, Mrs. Denton?"

"Well, yes, but I saw no harm in it. He told me not to tell anyone, or he would be back to get his ten thousand dollars." Mrs. Denton took White by the hand. "Agent White, I can't afford that."

White reached into his pocket. "Here's my personal card, Mrs. Denton. If you ever see this man again, call me immediately. I will personally help you deal with him. In the meantime, we need to send an FBI artist here so that you can describe this man. Hopefully, we can get a reasonable sketch of him for identification. I'll have someone here this afternoon."

Agents Jennings and White thanked Mrs. Denton for the tea and excused themselves. They were becoming far more aware of the coordination and planning behind these murders. It just didn't make sense that someone would have canceled Mrs. Denton's taxi with the hope that she would call Morrison instead of O'Toole. White was now suspicioning that the man who offered the ten thousand dollars to Mrs. Denton might well be the assassin. It was likely. It was also possible that the informant who had called Paxton really did have information and was murdered by the assassin. If that were true, then there had to be a connection between the informant and the one who hired the assassin. It was time to talk with Officer O'Toole.

Jennings and White had O'Toole called into the precinct for questioning. They all sat at a conference table, and White tried to put O'Toole at ease. "Thanks for coming in, Jamie. You're under no suspicion, but we wanted to ask a few questions about your informant who was found in the harbor."

O'Toole looked nervously back and forth at Jennings and White. "Hey, I don't nothin' about his death."

"We understand that, Jamie. We would like to know more about the informant. You are the one who got him into the information pipeline. Tell us about that."

"About six years ago, I was patrolling down at the docks, and I spotted a couple of junkies shooting up in an alley. By the time I got to them, they were pretty wasted, so I called an ambulance. One of them ended up dying, and my guy was afraid that he might get charged with the murder. He wanted to make me a deal. He said he heard stuff all the time because crooks came to the dock area to do illegal business. I saw an opportunity, so I put him to work. He turned out to be a valuable asset, and we made three arrests due to his tips."

"Do you have any idea who he hung out with?"

"No, not really, I stayed away because I didn't want to blow his cover. He usually called me whenever he had any information."

"Did anyone else use him as an informant?"

"Yeah, there were times when other officers would pick him up like he was getting arrested so that they could ask him questions about things he might have heard, but usually he called us. It supported his drug habit."

White cleared his throat as he glanced at Jennings. "Yes, that was awfully kind of you. Tell me, Jamie, do you know all of the officers who knew about your informant?"

"Well, word travels, so I don't know everyone."

"Do you know the officers who questioned your informant in the past?"

"Well, let's see, there was Detective Hanson, and Detective Reese. That was before he was captain. I'm not sure who else."

"What was your informant's name?"

"It was Johnny Dingley. Aaron Morrison said that Johnny might have known something about the Simmons' murder. Is that why you're asking me questions about him?"

"We're just tying up loose ends. Tell me, Jamie, you knew Detective Hanson before he introduced himself to Morrison at the New Year's Eve party. Why didn't you mention that to Morrison?"

"Hey, how do you know about the New Year's Eve party?"

"I know a lot of things, Jamie. Why didn't you tell Morrison that you knew who he was?"

"Hanson introduced himself to Aaron. Why would I mention that I knew him?"

"Jamie, have you had any business dealings with Detective Hanson?"

O'Toole's nervous look returned. "Hey, I ain't answering no more questions without an attorney present. Am I under arrest?"

"No, Jamie, you're not under arrest. Calm down, I just wanted to know your relationship with Detective Hanson."

"I don't have no relationship with Hanson."

"OK, Jamie, I think we're done here. Thanks for your time."

White needed to have a discussion with Muldoon before tonight's meeting. He wanted to minimize any possible emotional upheaval between Muldoon and the Morrisons, but first, he decided to have a beer with Jennings at O'Leary's to discuss everything that they learned so far. They took a seat in a corner of the back barroom and shared a pitcher of ale. Jennings clinked his glass to White's. "Here is to a productive day."

"Well, potentially productive, but we still have a lot of loose ends."

"That's true, Jazz, but a picture is beginning to form. It's obvious that we shouldn't invite Captain Reese to the meeting tonight."

"Yes, I agree. We found another connection with Hanson and these cases. Hanson has a smuggling operation that takes place at the docks. I'm still not sure if he's tied to these murders, but there's a good chance that he snuffed out the informant if he thought that his operation was in jeopardy."

"Yeah, but the timing is interesting. If this were just a threat to Hanson's business, doesn't it seem coincidental that the informant was taken out before he could meet with Paxton?"

"That's true, but we still aren't absolutely sure about the timing. In addition, I would think that the informant knew about Hanson's operation for quite some time, so on second thought, you're probably right."

"What do you think O'Toole is hiding?"

"Well, Jennings, my guess is that O'Toole knows about Hanson's illegal business dealings, and he's afraid of Hanson."

"Do you think that Hanson hired the assassin?"

White shook his head. "I rather doubt it. I don't think Hanson has that kind of money, and I seriously doubt that someone owes him that big of a favor. Hanson's a petty crook. He has no idea what the big league is."

"Yes, but you promised Muldoon that you would take him down."

White smiled. "Maybe, but I just might let her cut his heart out."

"So, who has the kind of money that could hire one of these assassins?"

"Well, so far, the only one I know is Horatio Paxton, but it's ludicrous that he targeted his own daughter-in-law. Besides, what would be his motive?"

"So then, it has to be someone we don't know about yet."

"I don't know. Let's see what the others think at our meeting tonight."

Muldoon poured herself a whiskey before taking a seat in White's hotel room. "So, you got Allison to agree to let me come to the house?" Muldoon smiled.

White gave her a reprimanding look. "Damn it, Erin, the last thing I need is for you to antagonize Allison tonight." Muldoon spread her arms with her drink in her right hand as she feigned innocence. "For god's sake, Erin, look at you!"

Muldoon shook her head. "Don't you like my new look?"

"Good lord, yes, I love it, but Allison is going to go berserk when she sees you. She hasn't seen you in over a year, and she's going to picture you like this with her husband as you gave him a massage in his underwear. I'm your superior, and I'm giving you strict orders for tonight. First of all, I don't want you wearing any makeup, not that you even need it. Secondly, you are never to make eye contact with either of the Morrisons. Devote all of your attention to me, and convince Allison that you couldn't look at another man. I can't afford to derail this meeting."

"So, you basically want me to be rude."

"Yes, be rude, be incredibly rude, but don't antagonize Allison."

"Jazz, this was your wife's idea. She said that it would open doors for me."

"Oh, my god, Erin, it would open international ports. I had no idea what you were doing, and had I known that I needed for you to meet with Aaron, I would have insisted that you hold off on enhancing your appearance. My god, Erin, you're gorgeous!"

"Am I as pretty as your wife?" Muldoon gestured a kiss toward White.

"You run a close second, but nobody is as beautiful as my wife."

Allison was scurrying around trying to make sure that the house looked presentable. She went into the kitchen and began to assemble some canapés for the evening refreshments. She wasn't sure if alcohol was appropriate, but she had bought some wine just in case. Morrison tried to calm her, but she was on needles and pins. She was beginning to think it was a bad idea to host the meeting. Erin Muldoon would be in her house again, but at least Allison would be there to monitor the situation. She opened a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. She knew that she needed to get a grip.

Jennings and White escorted Muldoon to the meeting. Much to White's consternation, Paxton insisted that his sister, Casandra, accompany him because he still should not be driving. White had reluctantly agreed, and this presented an additional problem for Morrison. He had told Allison everything, including the kisses from Casandra, who happened to be an incredibly attractive rich girl. White had navigated some seriously uncomfortable situations in his past with women, but he was thankful not to be in Aaron Morrison's shoes tonight. White would be walking a tight wire with the social dynamics, and he knew that a strong wind would send him plummeting into a referee between a wife, a husband, and two very beautiful women. It didn't help matters that Morrison was a very handsome man, and Allison knew the effect that he often had on other women.

Muldoon, Jennings, and White were the first to arrive. When Allison caught sight of Muldoon, she looked as though someone had hit her in the head with a hammer. Morrison was standing behind Allison, and White made a gesture to get Morrison to close his mouth. Allison was terribly intimidated, and Morrison was dumbfounded how Muldoon could have transformed to that degree in a few days. Allison invited everyone inside and offered refreshments in the kitchen. White could see the daggers in her eyes toward her husband, and he knew that the situation was already volatile. Muldoon did as White had requested, and she basically ignored the Morrisons as she clung to White's arm.

Paxton and his sister were the next to arrive, and Allison was further intimidated by the beautiful rich girl with flowing blonde hair. White knew that Allison was suffering the thought that both of these women had kissed her husband on the lips. He needed to keep Allison preoccupied as a hostess to keep her focused on the meeting rather than what she considered to be rivals. However, he could only break so many glasses and spill so many drinks before looking obvious. Plus, he needed to concentrate on the meeting.

Everyone but Allison gathered around the dining room table. White took about half an hour explaining all that they had discovered since the beginning of the investigation, including the professional assassin who was caught on camera at Muldoon's the evening that he attempted to murder her. Muldoon clung to White with her head on his shoulder and her eyes closed during much of his explanation. This was not a typical serial murder case. This was a highly professional assassination of police families. Questions began to circulate around the table. Was it just police families, or was it these specific officers? Everyone was trying to establish a possible link between Simmons, Paxton, and Morrison. The only common aspect that they could ascertain was that they were all police officers.

The questions then centered around the generalization of the police department. Did someone have a vendetta against the police department? Was this orchestrated by an angry ex-convict? It seemed unlikely due to the expense that would have been incurred to hire a professional at the caliber that was seen on the video of the attempted murder. Whoever was orchestrating this wanted it to appear as a typical serial murder. In addition, the perpetrator attempted to bring the investigation to a close by trying to frame Cravens with the skin tissue planted under Janette Morrison's fingernails. However, that backfired, and he followed up with an attempt on Muldoon's life. Then Muldoon offered the idea that the professional assassin, who attempted to murder her, may not have been the killer in the other murders. If that were so, then the evidence found on the video couldn't be applied to the other murders. Too many dots were disconnected to form a decent picture of these crimes.

White introduced the situation with Detective Hanson and the cameras that he had planted at Muldoon's. White wasn't convinced that Hanson was behind the murders, but he could have somehow orchestrated the attempt on Muldoon as a convenient way to dispose of her and make it look like her murder was related to the others. Then again, there was the prohibitive expense problem that ruled Hanson out. White shared the fact that these types of assassins rarely could be hired for less than half a million dollars. However, no one knew if it was a personal favor. White's wife had done many assassinations pro gratis for political purposes.

Jennings suggested the possibility of finding the hooker who took the tissue samples from Cravens' hip. White doubted that would help because the woman may not have been a hooker. Just because she performed oral sex on Cravens didn't make her a professional. Even if someone paid her to set Cravens up, there was significant doubt that she would have any idea who had hired her. It seemed to be more of a dead end. Then Jennings replied with the idea that the hooker was actually the assassin. Again, there were more questions with no answers. However, that logic caused White to have an FBI artist sit with Cravens to get a possible sketch.

They now had conflicting possibilities for the assassin. Was the young man who hired Mrs. Denton to use Morrison as a ride to the airport the assassin, or was it the supposed hooker who had scratched Cravens? Perhaps it was neither. That raised the question whether more than one assassin was being used. White discouraged that idea due to the fact that assassins rarely worked in conjunction with others. In fact, he couldn't think of one instance where that had ever happened. Usually, operations of this nature were kept to a minimum of players in order to reduce possible leaks and exposure.

White requested that Allison break out the wine bottles. He was hoping that the alcohol would loosen everyone up enough to spur more creative thinking. Allison served glasses of wine and put another tray of appetizers into the oven. White began listing everyone involved in the cases. There was Hanson, who was in custody with the FBI in Chelsea, and Hanson's man who planted the cameras at Muldoon's. There was the liaison for the informant who ended up wasting Paxton's time at the docks. There was an alleged hooker, Cravens, and the man who paid Mrs. Denton. O'Toole was questionable, but probably held more information than he was willing to divulge. Lastly, there was the assassin caught on video.

White began to outline a plan of action. First, he wanted the Paxtons to persuade Daddy to get the judges to disallow bail for anyone arrested in connection with these murders. Next, he wanted the sketches from the artists that worked with Cravens and Mrs. Denton to use as input for face recognition programs. His intention was to round up suspects in the area who fit the possible face matches, and have Cravens and Mrs. Denton identify them in a lineup. He also needed someone to go down to the docks and see who knew Johnny Dingley, O'Toole's informant. Jennings would be arresting Hanson's man who planted the cameras and putting him in FBI custody. They had clear images of him on camera that could easily identify him.

Everyone retired to the living room to relax and enjoy more wine. Morrison began offering Bushmills Whiskey, and Muldoon had White retrieve a glass for her. She sipped her whiskey as she frequently buried her face in White's neck with affectionate kisses. She had performed beautifully for the Morrisons, and White was pleased that she had done nothing to antagonize Allison. After about an hour of relaxing conversation and drinking, Muldoon put her lips to White's ear. "Can we please go home now, dear?" She then nibbled on his ear lobe. White took advantage of Muldoon's invitation for an exit.

The next day, White followed up on the tasks that he had outlined. Hanson's man had been arrested, the sketches for the hooker and Mrs. Denton's visitor had been fed into the face recognition software. The suspects in custody were being held without bail. White still needed someone to infiltrate the junkies down at the docks to see if anyone knew Dingley. That meant he needed to send an agent who appeared to be homeless to mingle with the junkies. His candidates were few, but Agent Green seemed to be his best bet. He just needed for Green to quit shaving for a few days and dress him in tattered clothing.

The agency that held White had a much more complete and comprehensive database of face recognition software than any other organization in the world. They had access to camera feeds from all around the globe. There were few places that online cameras did not exist, and the agency tapped all available videos with every face that ever appeared. The database held the face data by geographical location, so it made it easy to track someone and learn their latest whereabouts. White photographed the sketches and texted them to his analyst in Washington, D. C. It would only be a matter of a few hours before they had the matches with percentages of certainty and their locations.

Jennings entered the conference room where White was reviewing the tasks. "Were you aware that Chief Clancy had a task force assigned to solving these murders?"

White looked up. "No, I had no idea. This is no longer a Boston police investigation."

"Well, according to Clancy we have failed miserably, and he has stated in a press conference that he is taking it upon himself to find the perpetrator behind the murders."

"Well, I frankly don't care what he does as long as he doesn't get in our way."

"You might want to rethink that statement, Jazz. He's pushing the idea that Cravens is the murderer, and we are protecting him."

"You can't be serious. Didn't you explain to Clancy that we have enough evidence to clear Cravens?"

"That might be difficult in a court of law. We were able to track Cravens' car that night, but we don't have a clear shot of his face. Someone else could have been driving his car."

"Maybe so, but what about the scratches on Cravens' hip? They were far too deep to be caused by Janette Morrison's fingernails."

"Yes, but in court they will point out that you aren't a licensed forensic analyst, and the photographs of his scratches don't really show the depth. If they push this, they might convict an innocent man."

"My god, Jennings, we have to step up this investigation."

"Jazz, we're doing all we can. Clancy plans to bring charges against Cravens and have him transferred to a jail. I don't think Horatio Paxton can help because he's one of Clancy's principal supporters."

"We can't let that happen, Jennings. If Cravens is put in jail, he'll end up dead in twenty-four hours. Then they will close the cases. I need to relocate Cravens far from here and declare that he escaped FBI protective custody."

Later that afternoon, after White had hidden Cravens, he received a text that the facial recognition software had detected sixty-four matches for the hooker within the Boston vicinity that were with more than seventy-five percent accuracy. He showed Cravens the photographs of the candidates, and he narrowed it to three possible suspects. White would have Jennings take the three women into custody for an in-person identification outside of Boston. In the meantime, White received another text with one hundred forty-two possibilities for Mrs. Denton's visitor. However, Mrs. Denton didn't identify any one of them as the man who came to her door. This made White more suspicious that he might be the assassin. By the time evening had arrived, Cravens positively identified one woman as the hooker who had accosted him at the intersection in his car the night of the Janette Morrison murder. Jennings had her in custody for questioning.

She was a high-end call girl, who worked some of the hotel bars in town. She told Jennings that a young, well dressed man approached her and offered her ten thousand dollars cash if she would approach a man in a 1999 Chevrolet Impala at the corner of Lagrange and Washington at six thirty in the evening. He said that he would make sure that the driver had a red light at the intersection, and he would alert her by text when the car was approaching. Her job was to seduce the man into a sexual encounter and scratch skin from his hip. The man who hired her then met her around the corner to collect the skin samples and give her the remainder of the ten thousand dollars.

Jennings had another artist sit with the hooker to produce a sketch from her description. It was close enough to Mrs. Denton's sketch that Jennings and White were reasonably certain it was the same man. White was convinced that he was the assassin. This now made a possible link between the attempt on Muldoon's life, the murder of Paxton's wife, and the murder of Janette Morrison. The murder videos of Simmons and Paxton were a connection that brought all four incidents together. It was time to revisit the Janette Morrison murder video.

## CHAPTER TEN

### _Connecting the Dots_

WHITE HAD ESCAPED an emotional upheaval with Allison Morrison. He had also escaped the possible arrest and murder of Cravens. Chief Clancy was livid and demanded that the FBI turn Cravens over to the Boston police. However, the agent that had been watching over Cravens testified that Cravens went to the bathroom and disappeared. It appeared to be an impossibility, but he was gone. Clancy was trying to bolster his campaign and his favor with the public by trying to close the serial murder case. However, he had little support from the mayor due to his rivalry in the upcoming election. Clancy's hands were tied at the moment, but White knew that there would be repercussions from Horatio Paxton because he was Clancy's biggest supporter.

White hated politics, and he often operated outside the confines of the law. He was accustomed to a world of espionage, and he essentially answered to no one. However, those who were working with him on the murder cases had no clarity of what his background was. Although, some were beginning to realize that his world was very different. After all, his wife was a retired assassin, and he seemed to travel rather easily, which few could understand. He had also admitted to Detective Hanson that he exercised cruel and brutal tactics on occasion. Another suspicion arose with Morrison, who was completely baffled how in such a short time Muldoon had transformed into one of the most attractive women that he had ever seen. White asked if Morrison believed in time warps. In the least, White was a mystery.

There was a good chance that Mrs. Denton and the hooker who accosted Cravens had seen the assassin face to face. White knew better than to have hopes of catching him. Tying the attempted murder of Muldoon to the other murders was a surety to clear Cravens, since he was in FBI protective custody during the murder attempt. Assassins rarely failed, but this was not the usual termination order to which White was accustomed. These murders had to follow the profile of a serial killer. It wasn't just the annihilation of the target, it was the process that was more important. The assassin had a considerable amount of confidence that he could murder Muldoon before the FBI had a clue that he was in the house. Had it not been for White's experience and knowledge of assassins, Muldoon would likely be dead.

White pondered who could possibly benefit from the murders of law enforcement families. These were the highest of professional hits in the world. Who had that kind of money, and who would want these women brutally and shamefully murdered? Was this an attempt to denigrate the Boston Police Department? Was it an attempt to undermine Chief Clancy's campaign for Mayor? White decided to have Jennings investigate the current Mayor of Boston to see if he could somehow be instrumental in these murders. White knew that whatever the motive was, it had to affect the future of this world in a very negative way. Otherwise, he would never have been called in to help on this case.

Agent Green requested an audience with Agent White. White recoiled in shock as Green entered the conference room. "Good god, Green! You like the lowest class vagrant I have ever seen."

Agent Green broke into a laugh. "What do you think?" Green turned full circle so that White could see his entire costume.

"Get your ass down to the docks today. I'm sure you look worse than most of those druggies down there." White chuckled as he examined Green's appearance. "I must say, Green, you have done an excellent job of fitting in. See if you can find anyone who knew Johnny Dingley and what happened to him."

Green was grinning from ear to ear. "I'm on my way, Agent White."

White replied as Green headed for the door. "You really enjoy this, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, Agent White, this is the fun part of my job."

Jennings had a lot of work to do, and White needed a break. White was going home to throw a party for Erin Muldoon in appreciation for her wonderful performance at Morrison's house. He wanted to spend time with his wife and discuss the case to hear her input. He anticipated a relaxing time in the sunshine with his favorite people, and he couldn't wait to get home. Green would be at the docks, and Jennings would be digging up dirt on the mayor, while Ferguson kept Cravens safe in an undisclosed location. It was a perfect opportunity for a hiatus.

Agent Green nestled into the trash bin behind a restaurant near Sargents Wharf. The piquant aroma of fermenting orange peel mixed with the liquified celery, cabbage, and carrot decomposition made an interesting combination of odors that Green hoped would help convince the homeless that he was one of them. He was surprised how comfortable the trash bags were that squished beneath his body. It was cold, but the decaying produce gave off enough heat to keep him comfortably warm. He actually dozed off for a short while before hearing voices in the alley.

He peeked over the top of the bin and spied two junkies sharing a needle. Green surprised them. "Hey, keep it down out there. I'm trying to get some sleep." The junkies tried to conceal their drugs at first, but relaxed when they saw that it was just a homeless man sleeping in a trash bin.

One of the junkies looked up at Green. "Sorry, we only got enough for ourselves."

Green replied with his chin on the edge of the bin. "That's OK, I usually get my stuff from Johnny Dingley."

The other junkie shook his head. "Ain't you heard? Johnny's dead."

Green feigned surprise. "What do you mean Johnny's dead? When did that happen?"

"I don't know, about two weeks ago maybe. Someone found him floating in the harbor."

Green climbed out of the trash bin. "Aw, shit, Johnny was a good guy."

"Yeah, he did everyone all right. He had a sweet deal with the police, but that's the problem. Once you start dealing with those guys, it's just a matter of time."

"So, you think someone did Johnny in because of his deal with the cops?"

The one junkie looked at the other with a look of warning and slightly shook his head. "We don't know nothin'."

"Well, it sounds like Johnny knew too much. That's too bad, but I wish I could get a deal like that with the cops. I know a thing or two around here. You have any idea who he was dealing with?"

"Like I said, we don't know nothin'." The junkies concentrated on sharing their drugs while Green wandered over a couple of alleys. He found three homeless huddling by a fire in a barrel. He pulled his tattered gloves from his hands and began warming them over the fire. He was pleased that his fingernails held more dirt than theirs.

Green shook his head as he stated, "It ain't safe around here no more."

The eldest of the homeless glanced over at Green with a contemptuous look. "When was it ever safe around here?"

"A couple of guys just told me that Johnny Dingley got snuffed out a couple of weeks ago. Did anyone get his orange hat?"

The old man replied, "You know, I've learned that the fewer questions you ask, the longer you live around here." The other two homeless nodded in agreement.

Green worked his way from alley to alley trying to find anyone who might be willing to give him information about Dingley. Either they didn't know him, or they weren't willing to talk. It was getting late, so he decided to pick a trash bin for the night.

Jennings had been spending a considerable amount of time at mayoral campaign headquarters for the incumbent. The mayor's campaign was an open book. All of the staff was more than willing to open the books and show the contributors, assets, and expenditures to Jennings. They were almost too compliant, and Jennings became suspicious at times as he delved into the finances of the campaign. He reviewed everything he could find, and he couldn't detect anything that would indicate that the mayor was involved in any misappropriation of funds. All seemed to be in order.

White had kept in touch with the FBI agents, and he was disappointed that they weren't making much progress. Although he was taking a break at home with his wife, Muldoon, his personal assistant, and the caretakers of his estate, he fully intended to continue reasoning the motives and aspects of the murders. Everyone was enjoying the swimming pool and abundant sunshine. White explained to his wife that it appeared the assassin had paid ten thousand dollars each to Mrs. Denton and the hooker. There had to be a deficit somewhere for those expenditures if these murders were a political favor by the assassin. Muldoon offered the possibility that the assassin may have paid out of his own pocket. However, White explained that assassins never do that unless it is out the proceeds from their contract compensation, which would show an even greater deficit by someone. She asked about the unlimited expense accounts that the agency provided, but White further explained that the account is for purchases, not cash. The money for the assassin had to come from somewhere. They just needed to find the source.

White had the video of Muldoon's attempted murder. He was reluctant to view it in front of her, but he wanted his wife to critique the assassin for them. White's wife, Joey, thought it would be a good opportunity for Muldoon's training to watch the video of her attempted murder. White streamed the video onto the television in their bedroom. White, Joey, and Muldoon sat on the bed as they watched Muldoon on the video turn off the light and leap into the chair by the front window. About twenty seconds later, the assassin crossed the living area and stuck Muldoon in the neck with a drug pen before pulling her robe off of her from behind. She fell into his arms, and he quickly carried her to the dining room. White switched the camera video to the dining room where they saw the assassin make three quick cuts on her bra and two on her underwear. He snatched the undergarments and stuffed them into a bag. This took no more than three seconds. As he pulled his hand from the bag, he had a length of piano wire that he wound around her neck. Just as he was reaching into the bag again, he focused his attention on the front door. He quickly grabbed the bag and ran.

Joey asked if anyone needed to see the video again. Muldoon quickly shook her head. She was obviously disturbed by what she saw. White had already viewed it several times. Joey began to explain the assassin's moves. His obvious tactic was to create a diversion with the police officer at the front door. This occupied the FBI as well as distracting Erin. He then had opportunity to quietly pick the lock on the back door and quickly traverse the living room where Erin sat with her back to him as she watched the police officer on the front porch. He injected a fast-acting sedative and pulled off her robe before carrying her to the dining room. He was in a rush for time, and fluidly removed her underwear. The piano wire was to be used to sever her head. The last time that he reached into the bag, it had to be for one of two things. Either he was reaching for a vile of semen, or more likely, he was retrieving the grips for the piano wire to decapitate her, which would have taken merely a second. The four rounds of wire on her neck would have found their way through her vertebrae, which would be quiet and much faster than a knife.

Muldoon's eyes were wide with shock as tears filled her eyes. She threw herself into White's arms, and hugged him tightly. She thanked him over and over for saving her life. Joey stroked her hair and her back. "Erin, we will always do whatever we can to protect you, but as an agent you must realize that what you just experienced comes with the job. However, once you complete your training, you will learn never to turn your back."

White looked over at Joey. "You know there is a chance that this assassin works for the agency."

Joey nodded. "I know, I thought of that. In fact, I might have even trained this guy at one point. There's really no way to know. The contract could be with anyone in the agency, and the assassin would have been called from the pool of terminators at the agency's disposal. However, what concerns me is that if this were an agency contract it conflicts with your purpose for the investigation. Too often the left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing within the agency. They are often quick to take lucrative contracts, but this might be more of a political nature. I can't be sure."

Suddenly, White had an idea. Joey had an eidetic memory. If she did train the assassin in years past, she would recognize his face. White decided to make another request for facial recognition of the artist's sketches provided by Mrs. Denton and the hooker. Instead of limiting it to the Boston area, he decided to trace possible matches throughout the world. He called his contact at the agency to broaden the search. It would be tomorrow before he had the results. In the meantime, White decided it was time to have a meeting with Horatio Paxton.

White intended to use Morrison as a liaison to Paxton. Paxton was upset that White had interfered with the police investigation. At least that was the way that Chief Clancy had portrayed it to Paxton. White needed to explain everything to Paxton in hope of gaining his assistance. After all, he was a very influential man in Boston. It was the day after Janette Morrison's funeral, and Morrison hadn't gotten out of bed. He was suffering from severe depression and didn't want to talk to anyone. White had decided not to attend the funeral, knowing Morrison's dislike for him. Besides, several police officers were in attendance, and White wanted to avoid a confrontation with them as well.

White rang Morrison's doorbell. Allison answered and invited him in. He could see that she had been crying. "I wanted to come by and offer my condolences to you and Aaron. I thought it best that I not attend the funeral. I know I'm not one of Aaron's favorite people."

Allison offered White a cup of coffee and had him take a seat in the living room. "Agent White, Aaron really isn't in the mood for a visit right now. He's terribly depressed, and he's losing hope that Janette's murderer will be found."

"I completely understand, Mrs. Morrison. I'm not asking that you disturb him. We're following every possible avenue that we have for the investigation. There's no real hope of finding the assassin, but we expect to find who orchestrated these murders. We are making progress, although it is going more slowly than I anticipated. I was hoping to have Aaron arrange a meeting for me with Horatio Paxton, but I would rather not bother him at this time. I have Casandra Paxton's phone number, so I'll give her a call to see if she can arrange a meeting for me with her father. I'll keep you both posted with any progress."

White didn't want to mention to Allison that Joey could possibly identify the assassin. It was a long shot. Besides, even if she did identify him, the assassin would most likely not know who had hired him. Often these assignments were done through secret communication to avoid disclosing identities. In addition, assassins would die before they would disclose any information. Nevertheless, if he could be identified by Joey, then perhaps Mrs. Denton and the hooker could possibly identify him as well. That would positively establish a link with the assassin and the murders.

White phoned Casandra Paxton. She insisted on meeting him at her penthouse condo in Millennium Tower. Daddy had purchased her residence for her a little over a year ago at a mere fourteen million dollars. White stood gazing out at the skyline toward Boston Harbor with Logan Airport in the distance. He sipped his cognac and turned to Casandra. "You have quite a view here."

Casandra stretched out on the white sofa and set her drink on the coffee table. She was wearing a sheer white gown, and it was obvious that was all she was wearing. White strolled over to take a seat in a chair, but Casandra patted the cushion next to her to invite him to sit down. White was hoping that she wasn't expecting something in return for getting him an audience with Daddy. Casandra jerked her head to throw her golden locks over her left shoulder. "Yes, the view is nice. I spend about half my time here whenever I want to be alone. Otherwise, I'm usually with Mummy and Daddy or at the club." She was obviously a spoiled rich girl who got whatever she wanted. She saw that White's glass was empty and reached over to grab the crystal decanter of cognac. She smiled sweetly as she poured him another drink.

White was impressed with the spirits. "What brand of cognac is this? It's superb."

"Oh, Daddy buys it by the case. He insists that I drink the best. It's Rémy Martin Louis XIII."

White took another sip. "I'll have to get some soon. I love cognac."

"I have several bottles in the cupboard. You can take one with you."

"That's very kind of you, Ms. Paxton."

"Oh, please, call me Cassie."

"Very well, and you can call me Jazz. Cassie, I know that I'm not very popular with your father right now, but I would like to meet with him and explain everything that I have found so far."

"So, you have obviously made progress since our meeting at Detective Morrison's house."

"Well, some things are shaping up, but I wanted to pick your father's brain. He knows a lot of people, and he may be able to shed some light on some of our suspicions."

"To be honest, Jazz, I rather doubt that Daddy will be much help to you. Chief Clancy has him convinced that the suspect they arrested, which you took from them, is the real killer. They also believe that you are hiding him somewhere."

"Tell me, Cassie, do you believe Chief Clancy?"

Casandra scooted next to White on the couch. Her face was inches from his as she asked, "What difference does it make what I think?"

"Well, if you believe Chief Clancy, you may be more reluctant to help me."

"Oh, Jazz, I'm sure you could find a way to persuade me, but honestly, your premise leads down a dead end road for those who want justice for the murders. Daddy wants the killer's head on a pike, but you are proposing that the murderer is a professional assassin who can't be caught. I'll have to admit, I would also like to see justice done for my sister-in-law's murder. The problem is that when people face extreme emotion and outrage, they often just want someone to suffer for it, even if it's not the real perpetrator. I have given this case a lot of thought since our meeting. If you have further evidence, I would like for you to share it with me. Maybe I can coax Daddy to talk with you." Casandra put her arm around White's neck and looked longingly into his eyes. She was swinging the proverbial door wide open in hope that he would enter.

White removed Casandra's arm from his neck and arose from the couch. "Actually, Cassie, I can't divulge any more information about the case. I guess I'll just have to proceed without your father's help. Thank you for the drink, and you don't need to give me a bottle of cognac. I'll see myself out."

White decided to stop by O'Leary's pub for one of Arty's giant pork tenderloin sandwiches with a basket of fries. His wife usually held him to a fairly strict diet for training, and this was a great opportunity to cheat. Arty had Canadian beer on tap as well, and White was a huge fan. He was taking his first bite into the tenderloin when his phone rang. He quickly dispensed with his mouthful of pork and answered the call. "Agent White, this is Horatio Paxton. My daughter said that you wanted to see me."

White was surprised. "Yes, sir, that is correct. What is your earliest convenience?"

"Why don't you stop by Brae Burn tonight around seven thirty? We'll have dinner to get acquainted, and I have a private office there where we can discuss business."

"I appreciate your consideration, Mr. Paxton. I'll see you tonight."

Well, it appeared that Casandra came through without the requirement of a romantic interlude. White's appetite hadn't completely returned by the time he appeared at the front office at Brae Burn. He retrieved his pass from the attendant at the desk and proceeded to the main hall. Horatio Paxton wasn't difficult to spot. He sat in a chair in the lobby holding a glass of Bourbon and Scotch whiskey. He was a large man in his mid sixties with neatly cut white hair. He was wearing a pin striped blue suit, white shirt, and red tie. He didn't appear to be a patient man, and he readily stood when he saw White approaching. Surprisingly, he threw his arm around White's shoulder and led him toward the dining room. "You're in for a real treat tonight, Agent White. I had Chef prepare one of his signature dishes of braised rack of lamb with cherry and wine sauce."

White looked up at Paxton and smiled. "It sounds delightful." White chuckled to himself. For a man who supposedly was perturbed with him, he wasn't showing it.

The maitre d' seated them at Paxton's private table overlooking the lake. Paxton ordered another Bourbon and Scotch, while White ordered a Louis XIII cognac. Paxton grinned, "I see my daughter turned you on to that wonderful Cognac."

"Yes, she did, and it's delightful. So, Bourbon and Scotch is a rare combination."

Paxton smiled. "Yes, I buy my own supply here at the club. They can't afford it. I have equal amounts of Balvenie Scotch and Old Fitzgerald Bourbon. It's smooth as silk."

"Well, I certainly appreciate the invitation to dinner. I was concerned that I wouldn't gain an audience with you."

"Oh, nonsense, by the way, I want to apologize for my daughter. She has an amorous affinity toward authority figures. I blame myself. I have given that girl everything she ever wanted. By the way, she's upset with you, but thank you for warding off her advances. It's about time someone said, 'no' to her."

"She is a very beautiful young lady, Mr. Paxton, and I have great respect for your family. She was just being coquettish."

"You're being kind, Agent White. I have no doubt what her intentions were."

"So, I understand that you are Chief Clancy's principal supporter for his mayoral candidacy."

"Yes, Clancy and I go back a long way. I knew him when he was a patrolman pounding a beat in the city. He's the third generation of police officers in his family."

"You appear to be rather successful, Mr. Paxton. What businesses do you control?"

"These days it's mostly finance and playing the markets. To be honest, it's old money. Granddaddy was involved in the railroads and bootlegging during the prohibition. My father later transitioned to the trucking industry. Once his fortune was sizable enough, he sold off his businesses and turned to finance. I stepped in to control the family fortune when his health failed. What about you? I hear you're not with the FBI. Who do you work for?"

"Honestly, Mr. Paxton, there's very little that I can say about that. It's a clandestine agency that owns its agents rather than employs them."

Paxton grunted, "Huh, sounds like slavery rather than employment."

"Essentially, it is, but they provide for us without limits. They adhere to no laws but their own. We can literally get away with murder, which should be of particular interest to you."

Paxton wrinkled his brow. "We'll talk business later in my office." Both gentlemen looked up as the waiter brought their entrees. Dinner was excellent, and while they settled back in their chairs Paxton shook his head as they were enjoying a Cognac together. "There were times past when I would be savoring a great cigar right now, but times have changed, and my doctor recommends against it. Let's take our drinks to my office, and we can get down to business."

White sank into the plush leather chair in Paxton's office as his host closed the door. He spotted the decanter of Cognac on the desk and raised his glass as Paxton took a seat. Paxton gestured for White to help himself. White poured a full glass and eased back into the leather. "I'm aware of your offer to Aaron Morrison to terminate the killer who murdered your daughter-in-law. I'd like to help him earn that money. However, I want nothing for myself."

Paxton gave White a disconcerted look. "I don't want that deal to be public knowledge, Agent White."

"Of course not, Mr. Paxton. I just want you to know that I'm onboard. However, I uncovered enough evidence to prove that the killer is a professional assassin who had to have been hired by someone. It's unlikely that we can kill the assassin, and even if we did it wouldn't bring you satisfaction knowing that someone out there ordered these murders. Rather, I would like to target the orchestrator of these heinous crimes."

"What evidence do you have that these murders were executed by a professional assassin?"

"We have a video of the attempt on Muldoon's life. We also have some corroborating identification of the perpetrator who influenced Morrison's whereabouts the night of your daughter-in-law's murder, which coincides with the hooker who framed the suspect that the police arrested."

"Oh, you mean the suspect that you're hiding from Chief Clancy?"

White grinned. "Yes, that suspect. He was framed, and we have the hooker at our disposal who helped to frame him. Chief Clancy is barking up the wrong tree. I realize that he would like to bring this case to a close to bolster his campaign, but I can't let him convict an innocent man. I would like to work together with you on this, but it conflicts with the Chief's allegations."

Paxton rubbed his mouth and pondered. "Normally, I wouldn't give a damn who was convicted for these crimes, but because it was part of my family I want to see the son of a bitch suffer who is responsible for this."

"Well, if you're willing to help, and we find this son of a bitch, I can guarantee that you can watch him suffer."

Paxton extended his glass toward White. "I like you, Agent White, because you're not afraid to color outside the lines. Clancy can't do that, and I understand, but I'm looking for retribution that gives me satisfaction."

"Well, then, it appears that we're on the same page. I am going to need your help."

"Whatever you need, Agent White, I'm at your disposal."

Meanwhile, White's wife, Joey, had received a download from the agency identification service that contained four thousand six hundred fifty-two possible matches of facial recognition from the artist's sketches. It contained photographs of individuals from all over the world that were within seventy-five percent accuracy. She filled her coffee cup and sat on the patio to peruse the photos. It wasn't how she had planned to spend her day, but if she could help her husband in the investigation, she was willing to do what she could. She began transferring pictures of suspects that she recognized into a folder. By late afternoon, she had sixteen possible candidates for the assassin. One of them was her student from seven years ago. Muldoon reviewed the array of photographs of suspects, but none looked familiar to her. Joey encrypted the file and sent it to White so that he could have the hooker and Mrs. Denton review them. She decided not to disclose which one she had trained.

White reviewed the sixteen photographs. The agency identification analysts maintained protocols of photo identification. The pictures were taken from several video cameras around the world. Each photo was examined against others of the same subject to choose one that most accurately represented the characteristics of that person. In addition, when searching for faces via an artist's sketch, it is expected that the subjects will all have very similar characteristics. Each subject is compared to the others to ensure that no two photographs look like the same person. This gives a better chance of identification for those who review the photos.

White's first stop was Mrs. Denton's house. As he expected, she invited him in for tea. He opened his laptop computer and turned it toward Mrs. Denton to review the sixteen photographs that his wife had selected. She carefully studied each face as White advanced the pictures. On the fourth photo, she turned to White. "This is the man who came to my door."

"Are you absolutely sure, Mrs. Denton? Would you like to see the other photographs before you decide?"

"No, I'm certain that this is the man, Agent White."

White thanked Mrs. Denton for her cooperation and the tea. He left for FBI headquarters in Chelsea. He was having Jennings call the hooker in for identification. She arrived in the afternoon and met Jennings and White in a conference room. She carefully reviewed all of the photographs. She then reviewed them a second time going back to two of them multiple times. She had narrowed her choice to two of the suspects. She explained that when he had met her, the lighting was poor and she wasn't wearing her glasses. Unfortunately, neither of the hooker's choices matched Mrs. Denton's. White decided to visit Mrs. Denton the next day to ask her about the two photographs the hooker had chosen. She looked at them carefully and adamantly denied that either was the man who came to her door. Her choice of suspects remained unchanged.

White contacted his wife to tell her the women's choices of photographs. None of the three was the assassin that she had trained. The hooker's identification was less credible than Mrs. Denton's. The hooker didn't have an optimum opportunity to identify the suspect. However, Mrs. Denton got a clear look at the man in broad daylight. White asked his wife where she had seen the man that Mrs. Denton had identified. Joey explained. "When I met him eight years ago, he was with the CIA. Due to his skills and physical attributes, he was transferred to Black Ops Special Forces and trained with them. I haven't seen him for seven years, but Black Ops forces aren't active for more than a few years. They begin to lose their strength and stamina. He may have entered the private sector as a mercenary. His name was Damian McCloud, but there's little chance that his identity exists today. After all, you're no longer Adriel Chevalier."

## CHAPTER ELEVEN

### _The Unthinkable_

WHITE DOUBTED THAT he could lure the assassin into another trap. Whoever ordered these murders intended to end the sequence after the third. Cravens had been framed, and without White's intervention, he most likely would have been convicted of murder and sentenced to prison for the rest of his short life. If this were an attack upon the Boston Police Department, it was doubtful that someone would be satisfied with only three murders. Due to the fact that the victims were police officer families, the FBI would naturally have been called in on the case. If no other incidents occurred, there was a possibility that these crimes would remain unsolved. However, if the intent was to solve these cases by framing Cravens, then the goal had not yet been achieved. White expected another murder, but who was to be the target?

White's phone rang. It was his wife, Joey. "Adriel, I have been researching intersections with your entourage of people surrounding this case. Damian McCloud is the nephew of Jonathan Hanson." White thanked his wife. Tomorrow, he needed to visit Detective Hanson, who was being held as a suspect in Chelsea. Gaps in the case were narrowing, and White was encouraged that resolution was near. However, the loose thread was the frustrating aspect that Hanson appeared to have nothing to gain from these murders. White needed to perform an intense interrogation of Hanson in the morning. He also intended to kill two birds with one stone. He would be escorting Muldoon to perform the interrogation of Hanson.

Agent Jennings handcuffed Detective Hanson's hands behind his back. Next, he cuffed Hanson's ankles together and slowly escorted Hanson, Muldoon, and White to a basement holding cell that had no cameras or microphones. Jennings handed White the key to the cuffs and then excused himself to leave Muldoon and White alone with Hanson. White stood Hanson with his back into a corner. White then took a seat at a small table. "He's all yours, Erin."

Muldoon drew close to Hanson and glared into his eyes. Hanson glared back. A full minute passed before Muldoon spoke. "We have enough evidence to put you away for the rest of your life. However, I'm afraid that would just be too good for you."

Hanson snapped back. "You've got nothing on me, Muldoon. I didn't do anything."

"Oh, really, because we have the video recording from your house that shows the attempted murder that targeted me in my own home. We also have identification of the assassin who performed these murders, and he happens to be your nephew."

"What the hell are you talking about? What nephew?"

"Damian McCloud was identified as the assassin who tried to kill me and was also responsible for the other murders."

"McCloud? My sister's boy? He went undercover with Special Forces years ago. I haven't seen that kid in over a decade. Why the hell would he be involved?"

"It seems fairly obvious to us that you used him to try to kill me."

"Look, Muldoon, I didn't try to have you killed. I was friends with your father."

"Really? Because you were responsible for my uncle's death. I wouldn't call you a friend of my father if you killed his brother."

"Damn it, Muldoon! I had nothing to do with your uncle's death. That's why you never came up with any evidence. I didn't do it. I got nothing to do with any of this. You have no reasonable evidence, and you're holding me illegally."

"We have the videos from your house, and your nephew was identified as the assassin."

"Look, I put cameras in your house so that I could figure out what you were doing. I'm getting ready to retire in another week, and I didn't want to get blindsided by your last ditch effort to prosecute me. I never saw your attempted murder until Agent White had it playing on my TV. I swear, I had nothing to do with this."

Muldoon looked back at White in despair. White slowly rose from his chair and approached Hanson.

White put his face inches from Hanson. "Did you have anything to do with the murder of Erin's uncle?"

"No, I didn't. I swear."

"Do you know who did?"

Hanson paused. "I'm taking the Fifth Amendment. I want my lawyer."

White looked over at Muldoon. She blinked a few times as a tear formed in her left eye. She began to plead, "Aren't you going to make him talk?"

White looked back at Hanson. "I don't need to do that. I'm releasing him on one condition."

Muldoon was outraged. "You're what?! What condition?"

"If Jonathan will help us with the investigation, I will release him."

"You can't be serious! Why would you release him with all of the evidence that we have?"

"Erin, you're too emotionally involved to be objective. Cravens' skin tissue was found under Janette Morrison's fingernails, but we have enough proof to clear him. I believe that Jonathan is telling us the truth. Keeping him locked up is wasting a valuable resource that we need." White turned to Hanson. "How about it, Jonathan? Will you help us?"

"That's what I have been trying to do all along, Agent White. I was working with Morrison to figure out who set him up."

Muldoon grabbed White's arm. "But he knows who killed my uncle!"

White nodded. "Yes, and in time we will too. I need you onboard, Erin. You have to be able to work with Jonathan. That's an order."

If the assassin were to adhere to the serial murder scenario, he would have to target another law enforcement individual connected with the case. Muldoon was safe with White. Morrison was seldom out of sight from his wife. Jennings, Green, and Ferguson were single, and their families didn't live in the vicinity. Chief Clancy had created a task force to solve the serial murder cases. They were most likely the next targets. White needed to have Horatio Paxton gather information on who was assigned to Clancy's task force. White also expected another frame-up to convict a reasonable suspect for the murders.

White took Muldoon back to his estate and scheduled another meeting with Horatio Paxton. Paxton invited him to his home. Naturally, Casandra was there expecting his arrival. She dismissed the staff in order to greet White personally. She smiled sweetly as she took his arm to escort him to Daddy in the conservatory. She offered to get them drinks and busied herself at the bar to pour the Cognac, Bourbon, and Scotch. She gracefully served the drinks, and backed out of the room with a wink, closing the doors behind her. White turned to Paxton. "Mr. Paxton, there is a likely possibility that the next victim of these serial murders will be someone on Chief Clancy's task force. He's playing his cards close to his vest these days, and I need to know who these officers are so that I can protect their families and possibly thwart another attempt."

Paxton nursed his cocktail. "I appreciate your foresight, Agent White, but Chief Clancy has taken the initiative to protect the families of the members of his task force. They are under guard around the clock. I doubt that the murderer would have opportunity to kill any of them."

White knew better than to trust a police department to guard anyone from a professional assassin. "Do you know the procedures for protecting the families of the task force?"

"Oh, I have no idea. That's completely out of the realm of my expertise, but I trust our local police."

"Could you get me the names of the officers who are on Clancy's task force?"

"I'm sure I can, but if the families are protected, what is your concern?"

"Well, I think Chief Clancy needs to realize that his people aren't as safe as he believes. I would like to stage a demonstration. However, I don't want to announce it."

"That is a dangerous proposal, Agent White. You could get yourself or someone else killed."

"If I believed that were true, Mr. Paxton, I wouldn't choose to do this. Chief Clancy is out of his league, but he needs to understand that. He has exhibited a level of bravado that I know is unsafe."

While Paxton gathered the information about the task force, White met with Hanson to review the attempted murder of Muldoon. Hanson's equipment remained in custody with the FBI, and White wasn't willing to release it until the resolution of the murder cases. Hanson and White took a seat in a conference room in Chelsea and played the video. Hanson studied the video carefully. White played it a second time. Hanson leaned back in his chair. "I don't know how you think you identified my nephew as the assassin, but I guarantee you that's not him."

"How do you know that, Jonathan? He's dressed in black head to foot, and his face is covered."

"Well, first of all, the assassin in the video is smaller than my nephew. Secondly, if you noticed, the assassin is exclusively using his right hand. Damian was a staunch lefty. When he was a child, my sister used to put his fork on the right side of his plate hoping to get him to use his right hand. He never stopped using his left. The assassin in the video is not my nephew. How did you get someone to identify him?" White shared the photograph that was identified by Mrs. Denton as the man who offered her ten thousand dollars to get Morrison to take her to the airport the night of the Paxton murder. White's wife identified the same photograph as Damian McCloud. Hanson studied the photo. "This has to be an old picture. It's Damian, all right, but that's the way he looked ten years ago."

White called his wife to share Hanson's observations. He also asked her to check with the agency to see how old the photograph was that she identified as Damian McCloud. White's phone rang within the hour. It was his wife, Joey. "Adriel, I checked with the identification analyst, and he said the latest photograph of McCloud was five years old. I have been giving this case more thought, and something has been bothering me. It doesn't make sense that an assassin would allow himself to be identified by anyone. However, Mrs. Denton and the hooker both claim that they saw him face to face. An assassin wouldn't be that careless unless he intended to be identified. Another interesting fact is that Damian McCloud hasn't been caught on camera for five years. Neither has Adriel Chevalier been caught on camera for four years. You know what that means."

"Oh, my god, I can't believe it. You're suggesting that McCloud had a facial reconstruction just like I did after the Ophir project. I had changed my facial appearance, vocal cords, and took my identity as Jasper White."

"Yes, exactly, and it's possible that whoever this assassin is had the same procedure recently and took McCloud's old face."

"How could we find the surgeon who performed the procedure?"

"We can't. It would have been done internally within the agency where the assassin is employed. This may be far more organized than we originally thought. This wasn't a contract for hire. It was an assignment to control a situation. You're wasting your time looking for the money trail."

"So, do you still think it could be the agency that is behind this?"

"No, I don't anymore. They wouldn't have made a glaring error like this. Our agency is trying to prevent whoever is orchestrating these murders. I have a lot of experience in this arena, and my bet is that the CIA is behind this. Listen, Adriel, I don't want Erin involved in this anymore. She hasn't finished her training, and this is far too dangerous for her."

"I agree. The fact that this could be CIA changes everything."

White had promised to keep Paxton and Morrison abreast of any progress, but there was no way that he could share the possibility that the CIA was behind these murders. Someone had to know about this. The final mystery was the motive. White's concern was escalating that these murders would go unsolved. It would be nearly impossible to implicate the CIA. However, there had to be at least one more scapegoat waiting to be hung out to dry. It wasn't Cravens, and it wasn't Hanson.

White's phone rang again. It was Casandra Paxton. She had the names of the officers on Chief Clancy's task force, and she wanted to deliver them in person. White rolled his eyes and suggested that she meet him at O'Leary's pub. Casandra was outraged. "You want me to meet you in some public house? My god, Jazz, the people are packed in like sardines, and who knows how many drunks have shared those tiny tables and uncomfortable chairs? I wouldn't be caught dead in an establishment like that. Meet me at the club tonight, and we'll have dinner. I bought a new evening gown today, and I want to show it off." White had to admit that the club did sound more inviting. Still, he would need to shower and change into a fresh suit.

White knew the routine and retrieved his badge from the guest building. He headed into the club and found Casandra talking with some of the members. She looked stunning. Her honey blonde hair was adorned on top of her head, and her necklace was sparkling with dozens of karats of diamonds. Her floor length red satin gown contrasted with her bright blue eyes. Her dress featured a slit up the side that traveled to her waist and exposed her shapely left leg, hip, and her silver shoes. She was quite a sight to behold. She was brimming with confidence as she spotted White and held out both her hands. White took her hands in his. "My god, Cassie, you look simply ravishing."

Casandra smiled wide. "Well, Jazz, I certainly hope that you do..." She pulled him close and kissed his lips. "...ravish me."

White grinned and gave her a reprimanding look. "You behave yourself, Cassie."

Once they were seated at Daddy's private table and had ordered their drinks, Casandra reached over to take White's hand. "You really can't be that committed to your pretty little girlfriend. After all, you've only known her for less than a month. By the way, where are you hiding her these days?"

It was no longer necessary to maintain the facade that Muldoon was his girlfriend. His attempt to trap the assassin had failed, and he wasn't about to endanger Muldoon again. "Cassie, I have a confession to make. Erin is not my girlfriend. We posed as a couple to try to draw out the killer." Casandra's eyes flashed with anticipation before White continued. "She's staying at my estate with my wife."

Casandra was stunned. "Your wife? Oh, my, Jazz, that makes this all the more intriguing. So, where is this estate of yours? Is it nearby?"

"I really can't divulge that information, Cassie. Don't you have some names for me of the officers on Chief Clancy's task force?"

Casandra gave a disappointed sigh as she reached into her purse. "Yes, I have the names right here. Do I get a reward for this?"

White took the list of names. "Absolutely, you do. You get a shining gold star for the day, but only if you're a good girl for the rest of the evening."

Casandra gave a flirtatious pout. "Well, I doubt that a gold star is worth that." The waiter served their drinks, and Casandra explained that she wanted dinner to be held for half an hour. "Daddy says that you're going to do something dangerous with those names. I think that's exciting. What are you going to do?"

"Your father confides a lot in you, doesn't he?"

"Oh, Daddy tells me everything. Sometimes I snoop just for fun. I heard him talking to Chief Clancy on the phone. It sounds like you have the Chief's cousin in custody."

White gave a start. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know. I just heard Daddy repeat what the Chief said about having his cousin in custody. I don't who that is. Who do you have in custody?"

White gave a searching look. "Well, I'm sure it wasn't the suspect who was framed. That only leaves one other person, which is Detective Hanson, but we released him. Why has no one mentioned to me about their relationship?"

Casandra turned her hands upward and shrugged before taking another sip of Cognac. "I don't know, Jazz, you should talk to Daddy. I'll take you home with me tonight." White gave another reprimanding look. "I mean to Daddy's house, not my condo. My god, Jazz, relax," Casandra giggled, "we'll save that for another time."

As always, dinner was fantastic. White viewed the whole Greek Red Snapper entree with spanakopita, potatoes, and green beans. It smelled divine. White was a fan of garlic, and this cuisine was one of his favorites. Two bottles of wine, several cocktails, and after dinner drinks left them both woozy as they sat in the back of the limousine, cheek to cheek. Casandra turned her head to kiss him on the lips several times. White was struggling to gain sobriety before meeting with Horatio Paxton.

Casandra and White staggered into Paxton's home office arm in arm as they giggled and kissed one another. Paxton looked up with a denigrating look, and Casandra curtseyed before leaving White with her father. White shook his head and apologized as he took a seat. "Mr. Paxton, Cassie and I are just friends. We've had a glorious evening together, and I'm trying desperately to sober up to speak with you." Paxton glared at White as he handed him a bottled water. White guzzled half the bottle and turned to Paxton. "Cassie told me this evening that Detective Hanson is Chief Clancy's cousin. Is that correct?"

"Yes, it is, although, the two of them have been bitter enemies for years. Several years ago, Clancy was made Captain ahead of Hanson. Hanson was bitter that Clancy had advanced before him, and he did something personal and dastardly to Clancy. I'm not going to air their dirty laundry here, but suffice it to say that they cut off all ties with one another. I'm sure Hanson also feels that he should have been Chief rather than Clancy. They have disowned one another. That's probably why no one ever mentioned it to you. The younger officers don't even know about their relationship."

"I understand, but I have been working closely with Detective Hanson, and he never mentioned it."

"Nor will he. As far as those two are concerned, they aren't related."

"Well, it's good information to know that they don't like each other. By the way, thank you for the names of the officers on the task force."

"You're welcome, Agent White, but you need to be extremely careful. You may be in more danger than you know."

"Thank you for your concern, Mr. Paxton, but I'm confident that I can handle this case."

Paxton looked perturbed. "I was talking about my daughter."

The next morning, White awakened with a pounding headache. He reached for the ibuprofen and popped a couple of tablets into his mouth. It was winter and still very dark outside. His phone rang. It was Jennings with bad news. White quickly dressed and met Jennings at FBI headquarters in Chelsea. Jennings began to elaborate. "Detective Hanson was found sitting in his car this morning asphyxiated from carbon monoxide. He apparently went into his garage and started his car in the wee hours of the morning. He also had a suicide note and full confession for the murders sitting in his lap. Chief Clancy's task force was sent to Hanson's house after his wife made the 9-1-1 call. They have the note, and Chief Clancy is scheduled for a press conference at eight o'clock this morning to address the people of Boston that he has solved the murder cases."

"How does he think he's going to take credit for a suicide and a confession?"

"Apparently, the note explains that due to Clancy's task force, Hanson knew it was just a matter of a short time before they discovered he was behind the murders. He decided to take his own life rather than be locked up with prisoners whom he may have put away long ago."

"How did you learn about this?"

"Captain Reese called me early this morning with the details. They are closing the case."

"It's not their case to close. I don't believe for one moment that Hanson committed suicide. I want an autopsy. I suspicion that Hanson has a sedative in his blood that rendered him unconscious before someone put him in his car. This is just too convenient. From what I have learned, Hanson would never give Clancy any credit. Besides, we had just released Hanson, and I doubt that he even knew anything about Clancy's task force."

Jennings pondered. "That may be true. If the suicide note gave credit to Chief Clancy, he would be more apt to accept the suicide. He wouldn't look any further."

"Yes, Jennings, and if the assassin did have facial reconstructive surgery to look like Hanson's nephew, then what was the purpose of the first attempt to close the case by framing Cravens?"

"Well, if the assassin did have the surgery, then the framing of Cravens was a sham. After all, it was a shoddy attempt that wouldn't be characteristic of an assassin. It actually enhances the second framing of Hanson."

"Exactly, which means that Hanson was the original target from the beginning."

There were only two people White knew that hated Detective Hanson, Erin Muldoon and Chief Clancy. White knew full well that Erin was not responsible for the murders. Clancy could bolster his campaign for mayor by taking credit for the resolution of the murder case. He could also eliminate and destroy the reputation of a despised enemy. Furthermore, he could solidify the undying support of Horatio Paxton for finding his daughter-in-law's murderer. Clancy had plenty of motive, but White needed to tread lightly. If Clancy were the perpetrator, White had to find the evidence to build a rock solid case against him. White couldn't afford to discuss his suspicions with Morrison or Paxton. The last thing he wanted was for Clancy to somehow find out that he was under investigation. There was still the nagging question whether the CIA had anything to do with this.

The autopsy for Hanson detected no foul play. It was time for White and Jennings to interrogate Mrs. Hanson to learn about the night before Hanson was found dead. A professional assassin would leave no telltale DNA or fingerprints. There would be no witnesses and no trail that led to the possibility that Hanson was murdered. The only consolation that White had at this time was that he seriously doubted there would be any more murders associated with this case. He shook his head as he pondered. If Casandra Paxton hadn't insisted on giving him the list of names of Chief Clancy's task force in person over dinner, there was little chance that White would have learned of the enmity between Clancy and Hanson. That was the only link that White had to suspect Clancy. It provided motive, but he needed to discover the means. He also needed to determine if Hanson had any other enemies.

White knew that if Clancy were guilty it wouldn't be discovered through the misappropriation of funds from his campaign, nor his bank accounts. It wouldn't be through a phone call or a text trail. Documented evidence would be scarce if not nonexistent. It would be impossible to implicate the CIA, but what would be the motive for them to orchestrate these murders? Clancy was the obvious suspect. He had to have communicated with someone in order to be involved, but how was Clancy connected to an assassin of the level that was witnessed on the video? Hanson had an obvious relationship with his nephew, but he denied that it was McCloud in the video. What if Hanson's suicide and confession were genuine? Admittedly, it answered a lot of questions, but he would never have given Clancy credit for closing in on him. Something or someone was hiding under a rock. White just needed to find the right rock to turn over.

The interview with Mrs. Hanson was difficult. She was terribly distraught and couldn't understand why her husband decided to end his life. He had looked so forward to retiring in Florida. Jennings asked if she read his confession. She had not. She dialed for emergency immediately when she saw him in the car and opened the garage door. She was quite certain that he was dead. White asked about Detective Hanson's activity that night. Mrs. Paxton replied that it was normal. He often fell asleep in the basement watching TV before coming to bed around one o'clock in the morning, but when she awoke at five he wasn't there. She began searching for him throughout the house. He hadn't left her any messages. If he were going out, he would have let her know. Finally, she heard the car running in the garage.

Clancy and Hanson had been bitter enemies, and Clancy's public approval rating had skyrocketed since Clancy's press release that his task force had been instrumental in solving the murder cases. White decided to visit Horatio Paxton. As expected, Casandra met White at the door. She was bubbling with joy and grabbed him into her arms. White tried discreetly to get her to let loose of him. She took his hand and escorted him to Daddy in the tropical vestibule. Everyone was having tea and crumpets, and Casandra served White as he sat near her father. "Well, Mr. Paxton, I'm sure you heard the news about Detective Hanson."

Paxton grunted. "Yes, well, it seems to be a bit anticlimactic to my desires to render my own justice to the son of a bitch."

"Yes, I'm sure that it does. I wanted to come by and thank you for all of your help. It appears that Chief Clancy's campaign is doing well in the aftermath of Hanson's suicide."

Paxton beamed. "Oh, yes, he's doing quite well. We have no doubt that he will be the next mayor of Boston."

"So, do you think Captain Reese has a decent chance to be the next Chief of Police?"

"Well, I would suppose so. He was somewhat instrumental in managing the investigation of these murders. It wouldn't surprise me."

Casandra reached over and took her father's arm. She prompted him as she whispered, "Daddy."

Paxton nodded. "Agent White, Chief Clancy is holding a campaign rally at the convention center tomorrow afternoon. Unfortunately, I need to be out of town on business, but Cassie is attending in my place. She insisted that you escort her to the rally. Afterward, you will both be dining together at the club. I certainly hope that you can be available."

Casandra was giving White a pleading look. White smiled and nodded. "Of course, I would be delighted to escort your daughter." Casandra clapped her hands several times and knelt beside White's chair to give him a hug.

White's next interview was with Captain Reese. They met in a conference room at the precinct. Reese was relieved to have closure on the murder cases. White was interested in what Reese knew about Hanson. "So, Horatio Paxton thinks you have a real chance at being the next Chief of Police."

Reese smiled with satisfaction. "Well, that's the rumor, anyway."

"Were you surprised that Hanson was behind this whole ordeal?"

"Yes, and no, I mean it was hard to believe that he would murder fellow officers' wives. He obviously had a lot of pent up anger from the past. He felt like the department did him a disservice years ago when he got passed up for the position of captain."

"Obviously, Hanson didn't perform these murders himself."

"No, no one believes that he did, but he had a nephew who likely could have assisted him. Nobody has seen him for years. He was with Special Forces."

"That raises another question. Why would Hanson's nephew help him murder the families of police officers?"

Reese gave White a confused look. "Didn't you know about Emma McCloud, Hanson's sister?" White shook his head. "She was killed twelve years ago by a police officer who was having an affair with her. He took his own life as well. Detective Hanson's nephew came to live with him for about a year before he joined the Marines. Hanson claimed that the officer who took his sister's life had warning signs of instability, and the department did nothing to prevent it."

"So, do you believe that Hanson held a twelve year grudge against the department?"

"Well, he held a grudge against his own cousin longer than that. Hanson was getting ready to retire, and it appears that this was his parting gift to the department."

White shook his head in confusion. "Hanson never mentioned to me about his sister's murder."

"Why would he? It would just establish motive for him to be involved in these murders."

White was perplexed. The more he learned, the more Hanson appeared to be the logical perpetrator. Although he knew that he had not completed his assignment, he was considering giving up at this point. He had promised to escort Casandra Paxton to Clancy's campaign rally tomorrow afternoon. After the rally, he intended to head home and close the case with the agency. The next day, as he dressed for the rally, Casandra Paxton gave White a call. She was stopping by the Boston Harbor Hotel to pick him up in her limousine. In spite of Casandra's forward demeanor, White was very fond of her. She was pleasant and fun, and she was spoiled rotten by her father, which often amused White.

The campaign rally was a bore to White. He was wishing that he had declined the invitation. Casandra flitted about with White on her arm as she hopped from person to person during the cocktail hour. She schmoozed with supporters and volunteers to the point that White was becoming nauseated. He hated politics. He was looking forward to dinner and the prospect of going back home. The rally was finally over, and White and Casandra headed for the club to have dinner. They settled in at Paxton's private table and sipped their Cognac as they awaited an appetizer. Casandra triumphantly announced, "You're coming home with me tonight, Jazz."

White gave a disappointing sigh. He was tired of her invitations. "No, Cassie, I'm going back home after dinner tonight. It has been a pleasure to know you, but I doubt we will ever see one another again."

Casandra was disappointed. "What's the matter? Don't you find me attractive?"

"Of course you're attractive, Cassie, but I'm a married man, and I'm faithful to my wife."

Casandra shot White an angry look. "Well, I know for a fact that you're not. You had sex with Erin Muldoon."

"No, Cassie, I told you it was just an act."

"Well, I heard Daddy talking to someone on the phone late at night last week, and he was assured that you and Erin Muldoon were in bed together intimately. Whoever he was talking to said that he had proof because Daddy wanted to see the evidence."

The color drained from White's face. The only person who could possibly offer any kind of evidence was Detective Hanson. The perpetrator behind the murders had been under White's nose the whole time. White rose from his chair. "Cassie, I hate to be rude, but I have to leave now. I have urgent business that can't wait."

"Where are you going?"

White disappeared through the front entrance.

## CHAPTER TWELVE

### _All is Well that Ends Badly_

CASANDRA PAXTON SAT on her living room couch as she stared out her window at Boston Harbor. Rain was streaking the glass as tears fell from her eyes. Daddy had passed away while out of town on business, and she was planning his funeral with her mother and brother. This was the second family funeral within a month. She was horribly grief stricken and wanted to be alone. However, she knew that she needed to go to the house to be with her mother. She was confused why her father had denounced Chief Clancy as candidate for mayor and removed all financial support.

Casandra had worshipped her father. She was proud that he was a prominent figure in finance and politics. A huge chunk of her heart had been ripped out, and she was wondering how she could manage going forward in her life. Daddy had given her everything. She felt loved and protected by him, and now he was suddenly gone. Life had become bizarre for her. She reflected on the night that Agent White had left her sitting at the club before dinner. He had urgent business, and she never saw nor heard from him again. Since that night, her world had been turned upside down, and she couldn't account for any of it.

Casandra had always been a curious girl. Up until now, she had always been able to satisfy her curiosity. However, she now had more questions than answers. She downed the rest of her glass of Cognac and donned her coat. Her limo driver was waiting in the garage below to take her to Mummy. She felt so empty and alone. She would be spending nights at the house with her family until after the funeral. Mummy was a strong woman, and Casandra needed her to get through this horrible ordeal.

White relaxed on his patio as he shared a bottle of wine with his wife. He was glad to finally be back home. It had been four days since Horatio Paxton removed all of his financial support from Chief Clancy's campaign and then died of a heart attack in a New York City hotel room. White's wife, Joey, put her glass on the table and settled back in her seat. She gave White an admiring look. "Well, Adriel, I must commend you on a job well done."

White looked remorseful. "Thank you, but I really don't like my job. I was basically thrust into this position, and I can't get out if it. I knew when I was called to assist in these murder cases that it had to be more than just a serial killer."

"I understand, but at least Paxton was arrogant enough to confess everything to you before you put him into cardiac arrest."

"Yes, that's true, he never believed that I could produce enough evidence or ever get him indicted with his connections in the judicial system. He truly was a very powerful man politically. He had created a path for Chief Clancy that began with Mayor of Boston to the Governor of Massachusetts and eventually the President of the United States. He would have had a puppet in the White House, which was his goal from the beginning."

"Well, I hope you realize that you needed to terminate him. A man desperate enough to gain that kind of power by sacrificing his own daughter-in-law doesn't deserve to live."

"I believe that's true, or I wouldn't have done it. Paxton had Hanson on the hook due to Hanson's vulnerability with his smuggling operation. Paxton knew that he could put Hanson away with the evidence that his investigators had gathered."

"It surprises me that Hanson didn't realize that Paxton would eventually sacrifice him as a scapegoat."

"That's just it, Hanson never knew that Paxton was behind the murders. Paxton put pressure on Hanson to gain information, that's all."

"Well, it certainly was a nice touch for Paxton to offer Detective Morrison two hundred thousand dollars for the termination of the killer. No one ever suspected that Paxton was the real killer. He had the means and the connections to hire a professional assassin."

"Yes, I'm sure that he thought it was a foolproof plan. The weak link in his chain was his daughter's undying curiosity and intrigue to spy on her father."

Joey laughed. "Yes, and as much as her advances annoyed you, she was integral in discovering the real killer."

White smiled. "Yes, I guess Cassie's infatuation with me actually paid off after all. What I never did learn by talking with Paxton before his heart attack was whether Chief Clancy ever knew what Paxton was doing."

"Oh, I rather doubt that, Adriel. If Paxton were pushing Clancy up the political ladder, he would want to keep him in the dark. It would be too risky for Clancy to know how his career was skyrocketing."

"I suppose that makes sense. The news of Paxton's withdrawal of his financial support has definitely crippled Clancy's campaign."

"How did you get Paxton to denounce Clancy and withdraw his support?"

White gave a sigh. "Must you ask? I used some of the methods that you taught me long ago. He broke easily."

"Well, I'm very proud of you, Adriel. Two years ago you couldn't have done this. You have come a long way."

"Oh, but in what direction? How am I any different from Paxton? He murdered to control a situation, and I have done the exact same thing by terminating him."

"Paxton had selfish motives and devised this horrible plan to manipulate politics. You did nothing selfish, Adriel. You were just doing your job. You know full well that Paxton would never have been found guilty or even been indicted via due process of law. No one would have stopped him. That's why you are in this position. The agency controls political events all over this world. It is responsible for those who get elected and those who don't. You've known this for years, but now you just experienced firsthand how the agency works. The agency strives to bring balance to the political and financial aspects on a worldwide basis. Paxton obviously had to be stopped, or you wouldn't have received this assignment. One day you will see it as I do. It's just a matter of taking out the trash."

## CHAPTER THIRTEEN

### _E-Book_
About the Author

Adriel Jacques Chevalier descended from a French family that migrated to the Netherlands before immigrating to the United States. His ancestors were jewelers and watchmakers for many generations. However, Adriel was never adept with handling the delicate parts of tiny machinery. Instead, he turned his interests to the software industry that was just becoming popular early in his adult life. He found that logic and problem solving better suited his skills, and he excelled in his field.

Adriel's elder sister had taught him to read and write at the age of three. Due to boredom suffered from structured learning, he sought to educate himself from his youth. He spent decades studying ancient history and various writings, mostly Christian and Judaic literature. Some of his studies he opted to conduct in the pre-translated, original language to gain a clearer understanding.

Always frustrated with the structure and politics of organized religion, he sought relationships according to the instruction of the Messiah, "For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there I am in their midst." Adriel recognized that the Messiah's name was synonymous with his authority, which is Truth, and that any group larger than three brought annoying problems.

Adriel and his fellows departed from the mainstream teaching of the established religions and embarked on a journey that led them on a quest for intrinsic Truth. Through many enlightening revelations and miraculous experiences, Adriel came to recognize that much of what is taught today concerning the Creator and his anointed one is rubbish. He forsook the erroneous cliches, rhetoric, and discrepancies of the religious culture and embraced Truth, which is available to any man, anywhere, at any time.

Although it was contrary to Adriel's belief system to share his findings in a rhetorical document, in his later years, he decided to envelop them into a work of fiction to be enjoyed by others. 
