Wrongful Death (34 page)

Anna was close to tears. ‘I know, I remember you telling me to make sure I took time off, not be like you and return to work straight away. I just couldn’t face being without Ken, I didn’t want to sit at home and think about the life he and I should have had together. Like you, I have found my career has helped ease the pain.’

‘You’ve changed, you are losing your femininity, Anna, and I hate to see it,’ Langton went on. ‘There is no need for this tough exterior all the time and you are obsessed with work. I said to you, make sure you have a life outside the Met, or it’ll eat you up and then suddenly you’ll be ready to retire and the years have flown past and you’re middle-aged, lonely and single.’

She shook her head, and then gave a light laugh. ‘Stop making me out to be some kind of harridan, because I’m not. As for the Reynolds case, well I was wrong about Donna, so like you suggested, I’m here and not involved with any of it, and I’m moving on.’

‘Fine, whatever,’ he said casually.

‘No, it’s not just fine, whatever. Right now, I’m content with my personal life. Yes, I’m career-minded: I want to continue moving up the ladder, and I’m really grateful that you created this wonderful opportunity for me here at Quantico.’

He threw the cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out with the toe of his shoe and then looked at her and said nothing. She realized he was waiting to hear what else she had to say and felt obliged to continue.

‘You remarried and now have a beautiful wife and two lovely children. It makes me happy that you found a life outside the Met and I need you to understand that I will too.’

Langton stood up and suggested they go for a walk. At first, she hesitated, then sensing they had come to some kind of amicable agreement, she acquiesced.

As they walked along the edge of the wood it was as if they were good friends sharing a stroll on a sunny day. When he put his arm around her shoulder, she feared that he was about to spoil the moment.

‘I’ve got to learn to stop worrying about you, haven’t I?’ he said quietly as he gave her a big squeeze and released her. They walked along together a little further before she changed the subject.

‘Any news on Fitzpatrick?’

‘I’ll come clean with you, it’s been bubbling for quite some time but even though nothing is confirmed, they wanted me here as there have been some positive sightings. You know his escape has been a constant thorn in my side, always niggling away at me, the obvious mistakes I made. God, I hope I get him this time, then I can walk away with my head held high and stick two fingers up to that arsehole Walters.’

Anna stared straight ahead, filled with the sensation that it was now or never; she might not get another chance to confess what had happened.

‘I want to explain something about the Fitzpatrick case,’ she began nervously, and they stopped walking. She was about to continue when Langton gently placed his index finger on her lips to stop her. He smiled down at her and stunned her with what he said next.

‘You don’t need to, I already know. In fact, I’ve known for quite some time now.’

‘Known . . . known what?’ Anna asked with trepidation.

‘It was you. Walters deliberately dropped clues to upset me but I know how underhand he can be so I guessed he’d fooled you into letting the cat out of the bag about my screwing up.’

‘Why did you never say anything to me?’

‘I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of ruining our mutual respect and friendship.’

‘I have had such a guilt trip over it and I have honestly intended to come clean with you so many times, I just never had the guts to do it. I was worried you’d never speak to me again,’ Anna admitted.

He chuckled and gave her one of his lovely smiles. ‘Look, thanks to Walters, I was a dead duck in the water anyway and I wanted you to still think I had no idea who it was. Besides, it kept you on your toes and you were more thorough with your investigations that I was overseeing.’

Anna’s head was spinning like a top, totally disoriented by what she had just learned, but no sooner had she managed to gather her thoughts to explain to him properly than his mobile rang, and he patted his pocket to take it out. He moved away from her, listening intently, then said, ‘I can go now.’ Immediately, he started to walk at a quick pace towards the car park.

Anna hurried after him. ‘What’s happened?’

‘It’s what I’ve been waiting for and the reason I’m here. FBI agents think they have new information on Fitzpatrick. They have a jet fired up and want me to go now,’ he said, picking up pace. When they got to the Mustang, he unlocked it, grabbed a holdall from the back seat then tossed the car keys to Anna.

‘Leave these with Blane for me,’ he said as he slung the holdall over his shoulder.

‘It’s all so quick; are you sure you’re ready for this?’ she asked with concern.

He tapped his forehead with his index finger. ‘I’ve had his gloating face printed up here in my nightmares for too long, so you bet I’m ready. The Mustang’s insured for any driver, so if you want to go for a spin I’m sure Dewar won’t mind.’

‘I don’t think so . . . Do me a favour?’

‘What?’

‘We already know Fitzpatrick has no qualms about killing people. If he’s cornered he won’t go down without a fight so please, please be careful.’

Langton walked over to Anna, gave her a kiss on the cheek and instructed her not to worry.

‘Enjoy dinner with Don Blane.’

‘How did you know he’d asked me out?’

‘He’s like a pig in a bacon factory with his nerves. Said he’d asked you out and wanted to know what food you liked, would flowers be appropriate, blah blah.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said that more than anything she just likes to know you care,’ Langton told her as an unmarked car with a flashing blue magnetic light pulled up in the car park. He got in and opened the window. ‘Don’t worry, I like him and you have my full approval!’ he shouted. At first, she was sure it was just in jest but then something in his manner changed. He looked at her in that way he so often had, which always touched her, as if he was asking something from her, and his dark eyes seemed incredibly sad, but then the window glided back into position and he was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Academy’s thousand-seat auditorium was like a state-of-the-art cinema, with its comfortable orange seats and a massive screen on which the FBI badge and motto were projected. The room was suddenly filled with the sound of the national anthem and everyone stood up as the US contingent belted out the verses of ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ with great gusto. The welcoming address was given by the Director of the Academy, and Anna found it easy to identify who the Americans were as they rapturously applauded at every pause in the Director’s half-hour speech.

Each of the course instructors introduced themselves and gave a resumé of their specialities and career achievements. Some went on longer than others and there were clearly one or two who thought they were God’s gift to the fight against crime. Anna found it hard to concentrate as her mind wandered to her earlier conversation with Langton. She couldn’t believe he had never said anything about her lack of discretion in discussing the Fitzpatrick case with Deputy Commissioner Walters. He had let her sweat it out for nearly two years, during which the guilt and feelings of remorse she had carried had on many occasions been all-consuming and reduced her to tears.

Her attention was brought back to the auditorium stage when she heard the voice of Don Blane, who spoke with authority and humour about his career and stood out as the most professional and humble of the tutors. When Blane finished there were further talks about the rules and regulations they were all to abide by and it was nearly four p.m. before they were to go to their allocated classrooms.

As Anna looked round her classroom, she was disappointed to see she was the only female in the group of twenty-five. Blane immediately made it clear that the object was to get to know each other, rank was immaterial and only Christian names were to be used throughout the course. The room went quiet when he pointed to the tables at the back and informed them that their weekend homework was to read through and familiarize themselves with their course case files. Every inch of the tables was laden with thick files, each of which bore a student’s name. After outlining the details of the course modules, Blane ended by wishing them an enjoyable weekend and said he’d see them all by the start of the Yellow Brick Road at seven a.m. on Monday morning for a fitness test.

Anna picked up her file and went over to him, saying that his personal introduction was the most professional and best bit of the introductory session.

‘Thank you, Anna. Are you still okay for dinner?’ he asked, clearly worried that she had changed her mind.

‘What time and where shall I meet you?’ Anna replied with an affectionate smile.

‘Fantastic, seven at the reception, okay?’

‘Perfect. I’ll see you there and I’m really looking forward to it,’ she said, still smiling.

Although she still felt tired and jet lagged, Anna was eager to read the case file when she returned to her room, so she’d be well prepared for her first class. The file was very thick and contained witness statements, forensic reports, search records, maps and photographs. She settled herself at the small desk and opened the file to the first page, which contained brief details of the real incident the case study was based on.

Mandy Anderson was a fifteen-year-old girl who had gone missing two years previously during the late spring of 2011. She was the adopted only child of a very religious Catholic couple. On the day she disappeared she had been at the shopping mall with two friends. She parted company with them at about two p.m., saying she had to be at the church by three for choir practice. There was CCTV footage of her leaving the mall, but from that point Mandy Anderson was never seen or heard of again – she had simply disappeared off the face of the earth.

The object of the exercise was to read all the statements and reports then draw up lines of enquiry for both police and forensic investigations, as well as a victimology report on Mandy Anderson and offender profiles for possible suspect categories. Solving the case was not the issue, but demonstrating astute decision-making, inductive reasoning and skilled referenced research were imperative to receive a pass mark on the case file exercise.

Anna turned to the next page in the file and saw a picture of Mandy in a missing-persons leaflet. She looked much younger than her fifteen years and very angelic, dressed in a choir outfit of red cassock, white linen surplice and a gold crucifix. There was an air of innocence about her – she wore no makeup yet was exceptionally pretty. Wide blue eyes, little tip-tilted nose and long flaxen hair. She had a beaming smile, which partially revealed her dental braces over pearly white teeth.

Attached to the file was a large map, which Anna took out, unfolded and placed on her bed to examine. She noticed a vast wooded area called Prince William Forest and was surprised to see the FBI Academy and Marine Corps base on the edge of the map. Anna then realized that Mandy Anderson’s disappearance must have been a local investigation. It crossed her mind that Jessie Dewar might have dealt with the profiling on the case and she wondered if Don Blane had deliberately allocated her the file. She certainly thought there would be no harm in asking him later at dinner.

The mapped area was massive, and gridded red lines showed all the twenty-six square miles of woodland that had been systematically searched by ground teams and body dogs. Helicopters had flown over the area using heat-seeking and other high-tech equipment, but every effort to find any trace of Mandy had proved fruitless. The search had been a massive operation lasting months, with the assistance of the Marines and the Sheriff ’s office plus a multitude of local residents.

Anna next opened out a large street map that was marked in different colours showing the two routes that Mandy was known to regularly use between the shopping mall and her home on Hallard Drive. One route went right past the church where she sang in the choir. Also ringed on the street map were all the local areas, including drains and wasteland, that had been searched, and where house-to-house enquiries had been made.

Anna was about to read the statements of Mandy’s mother and father when she glanced at her watch and saw that it was already six p.m., and so she decided she would get ready for dinner with Don and read the rest later. The cold case excited Anna, not so much the fact that a young innocent girl had gone missing and most probably been murdered, but the thought that maybe, just maybe, she could find a line of enquiry that had not yet been considered.

Meanwhile, Langton had been flown to Miami in a small private FBI jet. For security reasons, the exact destination was undisclosed, even to him, and he was only told that on arrival he would be taken to a marina where a yacht was waiting to take him to a secure observation point for suspect surveillance. Although frustrated at the lack of information, he thought that the FBI had good reason to be wary as Fitzpatrick was known to have corrupt politicians and police officers on his payroll.

On reaching the marina, he was surprised by what he saw. Moored there was a large motor yacht with a sleek black V-shaped hull, the sporting lines of a luxury speed boat and a black half-dome roof that allowed you to see out but not in. The FBI agent accompanying Langton told him that the 100-foot vessel was an Italian-built Mirage Argonaut and one of the fastest super-yachts in the world. Langton asked what it was worth, at which the agent laughed and said in the region of ten million dollars but it didn’t cost the FBI a penny, as it was a seized asset from a Columbian drugs lord. As he walked up the gangplank onto the main deck, Langton was struck by the sheer opulence in front of him. A large Jacuzzi was by the stern, surrounded by white leather sofas and armchairs. To one side there was an Art Deco crystal dining table with ten matching crystal chairs and a large, circular fully stocked bar.

On leaving the main deck and entering the residential area, Langton’s illusions of further grandeur were shattered. The luxury interior had been stripped bare and replaced with high-tech surveillance equipment and computers, which were manned by FBI agents. The man accompanying him explained to him that the exterior was a façade and most of the luxury sleeping quarters had been turned into offices and a conference room, and the six permanent onboard agents shared the crew’s quarters at the stern.