Deadly Sins (22 page)

“His schedule.” She handed it to Adam, who scanned it before passing it to Shepherd. “Night class on Tuesdays, but that doesn’t mean much since neither of the murders happened on those days.” They went outside then, and the temperature had her huddling deeper into her coat.

“So he had means and motive for Patterson’s death, despite assurances of his consistent faith in the man’s financial acumen.” Adam ducked his dark head against the bite in the air. The sun had given up its feeble attempts, slinking sullenly off to hide behind the gunmetal clouds. “We need to look harder for a connection to Byron. What would Harandi have to gain with his death?”

“You guys want to wait here? I’ll go get the vehicle.”

Seeing the way Adam’s look sharpened, Jaid made a point of saying carelessly, “We can walk to it together. Saves time.” She reached into her pockets to draw on a pair of gloves, shifting her computer bag from one hand to the other. Adam solved the problem by taking the bag from her as they followed Shepherd several blocks toward the parking garage.

“Thanks.” But when she would have taken it back from him, he gave her a look that had her subsiding. His manner was sometimes abrupt, but that quality was unexpectedly tempered with an old-fashioned gallantry that had always filled her with warmth. With any other man she’d have made a caustic comment and insisted on carrying her own bag. It was a small thing, perhaps, but the bureau was a macho organization. Female agents were still in the minority, and there was an underlying need to prove herself the equal of any of her peers.

But the man walking silently alongside her could always shred logic and reason with a single look.

She didn’t allow herself to wonder just how far he ought to be walking on his leg. The nerve damage he’d suffered on it at LeCroix’s hands had been extensive. She’d been in the Louisiana CCU. She’d heard the doctor’s dire predictions that they wouldn’t be able to save his leg at all. He’d beaten the odds then, too.

A chill skittered down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. Odds were a simple matter of probability. And sooner or later, fate always seemed to find a way to even the score.

“Okay, here are some interesting cases.” At the sound of Shepherd’s voice, Adam and Jaid looked up from the contents of the case file spread across the table. “Hope my notes makes sense. That girl can really talk fast.”

They were back at FBI headquarters, in a frigid conference room without windows. And, apparently, without heat. Jaid hadn’t taken off her coat. She was tempted to pull her gloves back on but sufficed by warming her hands in her pockets occasionally. Their first order of business had been to pore over the Supreme Court’s scheduled docket for the year. Only to discover that none of them had any idea what the case names meant. It had seemed a whole lot simpler to call one of Reinbeck’s clerks for an explanation.

Shepherd rounded the table to stand between Jaid’s and Adam’s chairs, placing the sheaf of papers on the table in front of them. “Here.” He flipped through a couple pages and stabbed his index finger at a host of scribbling. Jaid squinted. “You missed your calling,” she said, finally. “Should have been a doctor with that handwriting.”

“On January nineteenth the court is scheduled to hear oral arguments for
Kulder vs. Iowa
. The question before the court is the legality of a state law prohibiting people with gun permits from carrying personal firearms in state buildings or meetings.”

“Wonder where Senator Newell stands on gun rights,” Jaid murmured. “Not hard to guess.”

“It’s also not hard to check.” Adam turned his head to better read the sheet. “What else?”

Shepherd riffled through a couple more pages before stopping. “I marked all the cases that are hot-button items with conservatives. One challenges a Nebraska law that strictly limits abortion. Another scheduled for April fourth will decide if hate-crime laws can be applied to a radical church that disrupts gay people’s funerals.” He stopped, looked at Adam. “I’m assuming from our talk with Senator Newell that Justice Reinbeck would be seen as potentially coming down on the wrong side of all those issues.”

“He was a brilliant jurist, from everyone’s accounts. So in my estimation he’d apply the law fairly. But, yes, definitely he and Newell would be at opposite ends of the spectrum in their interpretation of law and the constitution.”

“The balance on the court was already split nearly down the middle from the reading I’ve done on it.” A chill shook her, and she took the moment to wonder if the agency had forgotten to pay their utility bill or if it was just their bad luck to find the one room in the place without a working heat duct. “Judge Lexton is a centrist. His vote can’t easily be predicted. With Reinbeck gone, I’d expect the president to move quickly for a replacement.”

“And confirmation hearings often turn into litmus tests for potential candidates. But you’re right.” Adam leaned back in his chair and considered. “Someone with a rightwing agenda might consider the removal of Reinbeck as a way to tip the court’s balance. But it’s a pretty radical way to go about it. And how does that tie into Patterson’s death? Is there anything on the docket regarding banking laws or finances?”

“There’s something here.” Shepherd turned back to the first page. “
Paxton vs. the United States
challenges the right of the government to freeze financial assets of countries indefinitely while protecting the blocked monies from being used to pay out damages awarded to U.S. citizens against those foreign governments.”

“Not a clear link to Patterson,” Jaid said doubtfully.

“None of them is a smoking gun,” Shepherd mused. His suit was charcoal today, with a discreet white pinstripe that matched his snowy white shirt. Unlike her, he seemed impervious to the temperature in the room. “But let’s look at the names and backgrounds on the threat list again. I wouldn’t be surprised to find more than a few conservative thinkers on it who thought nothing of writing a threatening letter to a judge who embodied everything they think is wrong with the country.”

She was about to point out that another team—probably several—had been charged with that very task with nothing to show for it. But Adam nodded and said, “Good idea. It’s retracing steps, yes, but that’s often necessary when new information comes to light.”

Knowing when she was outnumbered, Jaid reached for the case file to find the appropriate pages. “Okay. I’m just hoping they don’t find us still hunched over this table tomorrow morning, frozen in place.”

His gaze glinting with amusement, Adam said, “That would give a whole new meaning to freezing your assets.”

She slapped a hand to her heart, only half feigning shock. “A joke from Adam Raiker? Will wonders never cease?”

“I joke,” he said, in affronted tones. When Jaid and Shepherd exchanged a knowing smile, he lifted a shoulder. “Although it’s obviously wasted on the two of you. Let’s get to work. See if you’re better at cross-referencing case intersections than you are at fielding what I can assure you is a well-honed sense of humor.”

Jaid lifted a hand in response to Shepherd’s wave as he pulled out of his spot in the parking garage. Adam was a little behind her, talking on his cell. With a mental shrug she slipped into her car and started it, wondering how long it was going to take for the heater to warm up. And whether she’d thaw by the time she got home this evening.

A moment later Adam was approaching her door. She buzzed the window down.

“That was Mary Jo Reinbeck,” he said without preamble. “Byron’s funeral is set for a week from Friday.”

“So they released the body?”

“Not yet, but they’re promising to sometime next week. By setting the service for the end of the week, she’s hoping to give them plenty of time to carry through.”

She waited, certain there was more. “Did you ask her about Harandi?”

He nodded. “That’s where it got interesting. He told us that he hadn’t spoken to Byron for about three weeks. But she said a week before his death she was supposed to meet her husband for dinner. Was running late. When she arrived, Byron told her he’d seen Harandi at the restaurant and passed the time talking to him for nearly half an hour.”

Jaid stared at him. “Why would he lie?”

“Obviously, because he thought he could get away with it. He didn’t see Jo at the restaurant. Maybe he figured Byron wouldn’t have mentioned it to her. But he did.” There was a measure of excitement showing on his features. A reflection of it revved in her veins. “He also told her how uncomfortable the man made him, insisting on returning to a topic that was too close to a case on the docket for Byron’s taste. The legality of freezing financial assets of foreign governments.”

“We need to talk to him again,” she said with certainty. And parameters be damned this time. While she’d been staying within the confines Hedgelin had dictated, the Iranian was lying through his teeth.

“My thoughts exactly. His lecture starts in”—Adam consulted his watch—“about an hour and a half. We shouldn’t have any trouble catching him before it starts.”

As it turned out, they did see the man. Without ever leaving their cars.

Across the crowded street from the Mortara Center, Jaid saw a figure hurry out of the building to slip into a cab waiting at the curb. In the nearly constant glow of headlights from the lined-up traffic it was easy to make out Harandi’s features.

Well, damn. Jaid smacked the steering wheel in disgust. Where the heck was the man going? He’d said he had a lecture tonight.

She was unsurprised when her cell rang then. Fumbling in her purse for it, she eased around the corner to keep the slow-moving cab in sight. The traffic would keep it tangled up if it stayed in the downtown area.

“I’m going to follow him,” she said by way of greeting. “I’d like to know who or what is so important that he canceled his plans for the night.”

“He could have gotten sick, I suppose.” The ruined rumble of Adam’s voice filled her ear. “But I agree. Let’s stay with him. If you lose the cab, call me back and I’ll redirect you.”

“I perfected the art of a tail when I was a rookie,” she snapped. But she was talking to herself. He’d already hung up. With a fuming glance at the phone, she disconnected. Noticing the time on the screen, she dialed a familiar number as she nosed the car through the clogged street.

“Hello, Mother.” Jaid began to talk fast once Patricia’s cultured tones came on the line. “I’m going to be late again.”

There was silence, rife with disapproval. “This is beginning to be a habit, Jaidlyn.”

“It’s my job,” she returned, as evenly as she could. “You know what it’s like when I’m working a case. If you have plans, let me know, and I’ll call Stacy to come over.” Stacy Crooks was the teenager next door, a fifteen-year-old with an easygoing manner and a sense of responsibility beyond her years. “Royce loves spending time with her.”

There was an audible sniff. “That’s just a waste of money when I’m right here. I’ll sleep in the spare room. Again.”

A knot began to rap at the base of her skull. “I appreciate it. May I talk to Royce?”

The cab turned the corner. She followed Adam as he turned after it. The sidewalks were teaming with people. This close to the Potomac there was an endless supply of restaurants and bars that catered to crowds of all ages. She easily kept both the cab and Adam’s vehicle in sight.

“Hi, Mom.”

As usual, the sound of Royce’s voice could ease other tensions, even those caused by her mother. “Hey, Champ. I just wanted to call and talk to you because I might not make it home before you go to bed tonight.”

“Because you got a case?”

“I
have
one,” she corrected. “Right.”

“Michael at school said you were probably working on a murder. He said someone got shot, and TV showed their guts splattered all over . . .”

“Michael has a vivid imagination.” It was always best to quell such conversations before they could start. “Why don’t you tell me two good things that happened at school today?”

It was familiar territory. When she was home, they’d end the evening with her sitting on the side of his bed, listening to his favorite parts of the day. Today, it seemed, had been chock-full of all sorts of excitement, most of it surrounding the attention he’d garnered by appearing in class with a cast on his arm. From the sound of her son’s rapid-fire litany of events, his classmates had been appropriately awed by his exploits and their results.

“And then that creepy Angelica Herman wrote on my cast with a pink glittery marker. Pink, mom. Do you know how stupid that looked? But Michael and Andrew fixed it later by writing over it with a black one, so it’s sorta okay.” He wound down for a moment before asking, “Are you with that guy with the eye patch again?”

“Mr. Raiker?” Another car switched lanes, nearly cutting her off. Resisting the impulse to make a juvenile gesture when she passed the driver, she accelerated to keep Adam in her sights. “Sort of. We’re going to the same place.”