19
Finley took a deep breath, knowing what she had to do and knowing the heartache this would bring Leonard. She dumped her stuff in her car and headed for his office, finding him at his desk.
He looked up with a smile. “Finley. Did you forget something?”
“Actually . . .” Exhaling, she entered the room, closing the door behind her. “I’m afraid I have some difficult news.”
He took off his reading glasses, propping his elbows on the book he was reading. “Oh?”
“I just received a call from Dr. Kent. We’ve made a positive ID. The remains we found belong to Marley Trent.”
Leonard slumped back in his leather armchair, his eyes widening. “Marley? Are you certain?”
“I’m afraid so.”
He shook his head, his dark hair closely cropped. “After all this time I feared the worst, but there was still a small part of me holding out hope . . . Wait a minute . . .” He sat forward. “It was Marley’s body they tried to steal? Her body they killed the tech over?”
“Yes.”
“Someone didn’t want her identified. First they tried to make her disappear and now they are trying to impede the investigation. I’m so glad the FBI is taking this seriously.”
“Well . . .” She’d overheard Declan telling Parker last night that his boss was not a fan of cold cases, period.
“Well, what?”
“I got the impression this isn’t going to be a high-priority case.” Though, now that they had identified the victim, maybe that would change matters.
“They tried to shut her up in life. Now I bet you they try and do the same in her death.” He got to his feet, rounding the desk. “Well, I won’t stand for it. Promise me you’ll stick with this until Marley’s killer is caught and brought to justice.”
“I’ll do whatever I can, but I’m not law enforcement.”
“No, but you know how to work a case, and you’re familiar with Marley’s work. She dedicated her life to fighting injustice. Just as you do, giving the dead a voice and families closure.” He bent, looking her square in the eyes. “Don’t let the ultimate injustice happen to Marley. Don’t let her killer go free.”
“Yes, sir.” She’d stick with this case to the end, even if it meant stepping out of her traditional bounds and inserting herself into the investigation. Just as she had on Jessica Flores’ case.
Her stomach flipped.
She’d nearly died pursuing Jessica’s killer. In the end, he’d pursued her.
Please, Father, don’t let that happen with Marley’s case.
But she feared in her gut it might prove far more dangerous.
Griffin followed Declan across the footbridge leading to the Global Justice Mission’s headquarters, which were based inside Baltimore’s World Trade Center.
The area used to be part of his rookie patrol back in the day.
The Inner Harbor had changed a lot since then. More stores. More restaurants. More crime.
The crabby scent of the harbor imbued the air, making him instantly feel at home.
He walked the familiar brick path, leading to the building sharing an unforgettable name with the site of New York City’s 9/11 disaster.
They strode beneath the flags flapping in the brisk November wind, the halyard clanging against the metal post, and entered through the glass doors, moving slowly through security and taking the elevator to the fifth floor, where Global Justice Mission was located.
A doorbell and speaker sat to the right of the double wooden doors.
Griffin glanced up at the security camera angled down at them. “What do you know about this place?”
“Global Justice Mission is a nongovernmental organization that works primarily overseas to combat human rights injustice.” Declan pressed the bell.
“May I help you?” a woman’s voice asked over the intercom.
“Special Agent Declan Grey.” He held his badge up toward the camera. “And my colleague Chief McCray. We need to speak with Paul Geller.”
“Just a moment, please.”
The door buzzed, and Declan grabbed the handle and pulled. A large counter stood before them, with GJM written in bold black letters across the grey wall behind.
“Special Agent Grey.” A tall brunette stepped around the counter to greet them. “Our Director of Public Relations, Emily Wilcox, will be right with you.”
“Great, but we need to speak with Paul Geller.”
“Emily can assist you with whatever you require.” Glancing to their right, she gestured toward the petite blonde headed their way.
“Ms. Wilcox?” Declan asked.
“Agent Grey, is it?” She shook his hand.
“Yes, and this is my colleague Chief Griffin McCray.”
She shook his hand in turn.
“We need to speak with Paul Geller.” Declan was beginning to sound like a broken record.
“May I ask what this is in reference to?”
“Marley Trent’s murder.”
Emily swallowed. “Marley was murdered?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“When she disappeared we all feared the worst after months with no word, but . . .” She inhaled and released it slowly. “This will be especially hard on Paul.”
“Why is that?”
“You’ll see.”
They waited in the small conference room while Emily got Paul.
A wiry man, average height, with buzz-cut red hair. He wore a navy blue sweater and grey trousers. “It took you long enough,” he said storming in.
Declan’s shoulders broadened. “I beg your pardon?”
“It took you long enough to finally realize Marley had been murdered.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because the week she disappeared I told your man who killed her.”
20
You know who killed Marley Trent?” Declan asked, his tone calm and even.
Griffin studied the man while he responded to Declan’s questions—his movements, posture, where his gaze darted.
“Of course.”
“And you told the agent who questioned you back in March following Marley’s disappearance that she was dead?”
“Yes.” Paul paced impatiently.
“How did you know she was dead?” They’d just discovered her body.
“Because it was the only thing that made sense.”
The man was clearly agitated.
Griffin leaned forward. “Why was that the only thing that made sense?”
“Because Marley lived for this job. She’d never just take off. The notion’s preposterous. I told them she was dead, but they didn’t listen. Clearly I was right. Emily said she was murdered?”
“That’s correct.”
He sat down, running his hand over his thinning hair.
Griffin looked to Declan and he nodded, giving him the go-ahead to take over.
Griffin shifted forward. “You seem awfully distraught, Mr. Geller.”
“Of course I’m distraught. Marley was an amazing lady.”
“You seem to have taken her death particularly hard.”
“I’m not the only one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Marley’s intern, Rachel Lester, was so upset upon learning about Marley’s disappearance she left that very day.”
“Left her job?”
“Yes.”
“Any idea where we can find Miss Lester?”
“She rented a place over on Pratt Street, I believe,” Emily said, speaking for the first time since Paul entered the office. “I’ll see if I can’t locate her address when we’re finished here.”
“Thanks.” Declan jotted down the name.
“Let’s get back to you and Marley,” Griffin said, feeling there was more there. A strange, perhaps, but certainly deeper connection than was typically seen between co-workers.
Paul narrowed his tear-tinged eyes. “What are you asking?”
“Were you and Ms. Trent involved?”
&n
bsp; “We were close.”
“Romantically close?”
“We were on our way there. Marley had a lot on her plate, but she was worth the wait.”
Sounded like Paul was way more interested in her than she was in him. Perhaps the involvement was one sided. “Any idea if Marley reciprocated your feelings?”
Defiance stirred in Paul’s eyes. “What do either of our feelings have to do with her murder? You two are just like the others—not interested in who killed Marley or why.”
“Okay,” Declan said. “Who killed Marley?”
“Mark Perera.”
Griffin knew the name. He sifted through his memory. “Former U.S. Joint Chief of Staff General Mark Perera?” Surely it couldn’t be the same man.
Paul looked at them as if they were idiots. “Yes!”
Griffin looked at Declan, aching to share Perera’s sniper background, but now was not the time.
“Mr. Geller. Please take a deep breath and start at the beginning,” Declan said, always more diplomatic than Griffin chose to be.
Paul released a breath in a steady stream. “Fine.” He shook his long fingers out. “Marley was working the Perera case at the time of her disappearance.”
“What Perera case?”
Paul’s jaw flickered. “You don’t know?” He shook his head. “Of course you don’t know. Marley was the one fighting to bring it to light, but he got to her before she could.”
“Bring what to light?” What had a man like Mark Perera done to warrant GJM’s attention?
“The fact that he’s molesting underage girls in Cambodia and running a highly lucrative sex tourism business for all his perverted American comrades.”
Griffin couldn’t resist jumping in. “Hold on a moment. You’re saying a decorated war hero”—the man had been a sniper in ’Nam—“with an exemplary career, who went on to become joint chief of staff for four years before retiring from the Corp with distinction and then becoming U.S. ambassador to Cambodia, is running a sex tourism business?”
“Yes.”
“And . . . do you have proof of this?” It was a serious accusation against a very powerful man.
“Marley was compiling it, but after she was killed, the most pertinent files disappeared. That’s how I knew he’d done it or hired someone to.”
“Wait a second,” Declan said. “If Perera is committing these heinous crimes in Cambodia, wouldn’t he have to stand trial there?”
“Trials there are a joke. Last guy that got caught doing what Perera is got two years. Man molested numerous young girls and got two years. No, Marley and her contact in GJM’s Cambodian office were working under the Protection Act to get Perera extradited back here to stand trial.”
“Wouldn’t that be something for ICE to deal with?”
Declan was right. A case like Paul was suggesting would be handled by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
“That’s exactly who Marley was trying to convince of Perera’s guilt. Pushing them to pursue his extradition so he could face trial here.”
“Why Marley?” How had she gotten involved in this?
“Marley was working with her friend Tanner Shaw, who ran the aftercare program over there.”
“Aftercare?”
“Yes. After the girls are rescued, we don’t just put them back out on the street. We give them shelter, training for a vocation, and so on. Tanner worked with a lot of Perera’s victims and called Marley. The two went to college together. Tanner knew she needed Marley’s help on the U.S. end.
“Tanner disappeared not long after Marley. Hence why the case fell apart. The two key players and the critical files are gone. We still have the investigators Tanner worked with on her end, and we can try to rebuild the case on this end, but we’ll basically be starting from scratch.”
“And no one’s heard from Tanner Shaw?”
“No, but I imagine she was scared—and maybe was killed too. After three years running the aftercare program in Cambodia she passed it off to a co-worker. Left work that day and never returned.”
“Did someone file a missing persons report?”
“Her co-workers from the field office did.”
“And?”
“No sign of her.”
So they had two connected missing persons, albeit one was way out of their jurisdiction except for the fact she was an American citizen according to Paul. One had been found dead. Griffin feared for the other’s safety—if she wasn’t already in the ground.
“We’ll need what information you have on Tanner Shaw,” Declan said.
“I thought you were here to talk about Marley?”
“We are, but if another GJM employee is missing—one working the same case at the time of her disappearance—it’s highly likely the disappearances are linked. Solving one helps solve the other.”
“I’ll also get you whatever we have on Tanner,” Emily said, excusing herself.
“Thanks.”
“Now,” Paul said as Emily shut the door, “can we get back to Marley?”
“Of course,” Declan said.
Griffin stiffened. Apparently Tanner’s disappearance didn’t bother him in the least.
“What can you tell us about Marley’s role here at GJM?”
“She was GJM’s head legal counsel.”
“Can you elaborate on what that role entails?”
“Sure. Marley was GJM’s lawyer, meaning it was her job to make certain everything GJM undertakes is impeccable and aboveboard from a legal and ethical standard. She represented the board and counseled GJM’s lawyers located at field offices around the world on the most prudent ways to conduct legal investigations in their given country.”
“I know you mentioned some of Marley’s files were missing.”
“The critical ones.”
“Yes. I need you to compile a list of what is known to be missing. And we’ll need access to the remainder of her files.”
“The detective in charge of her missing persons case took the remaining files as evidence. We’ve been in a legal battle to get them released back to us, but it’s all a bunch of red tape at this point.”
“Okay,” Declan said. “What about her personal effects?”
“I have most of those.”
Griffin tried to maintain a neutral expression. Why on earth did Marley’s co-worker have her personal effects?
“Don’t personal effects typically go to the next of kin?” Declan asked.
“Her next of kin is her dad. He lives down in Ocean City. I sent down what he could handle and then stored the rest.”
“What he could handle?” Griffin asked.
“He’s got a ton of health issues. Beginning stages of dementia. Heart issues. I can’t recall all the details. I just know Marley went down every weekend to be with him. She tried to get him to move up here, but he insisted on staying in his own home, so Marley hired a live-in nurse. Anyway, I sent down the few things he asked for and some stuff I thought he’d like—pictures of them, mementos, that sort of thing.”
“And the rest . . . you said you stored. Where?”
“In my spare bedroom.”
Griffin looked at Declan, wondering how he could remain so nonreactionary. Paul was keeping a dead woman’s things, a woman who by his own admission was just a friend, in his home? Creepy.
21
We’re going to need to go through her personal belongings,” Declan informed Paul.
Paul’s jaw tightened. “What for? I told you who killed her.”
“Procedure.”
He exhaled, his hands balling in his lap. “Fine. You can swing by my place after work. I’m on the early-bird schedule. Home by four.”
“We’ll be there.”
We? Griffin shifted in his chair. Apparently Declan wanted him along for the day, which was fine as long as he was back to escort Finley home.
“Now, when was the last time you saw Marley?” Declan asked.
“March fifth,” Paul said without hesitation.
“Wow. You have a good memory.” And a quick response. Most people would have taken time to think and most likely generalized by saying the beginning of March.
“Trust me, when someone you love disappears, you remember the last moments you had with them.”
Griffin didn’t need to be told that. He lived it—daily.
Declan scrolled through his phone calendar. “March fifth was a Thursday.”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
“I called the police when she didn’t show for work Monday.”
“Monday?” Griffin narrowed his eyes. “She didn’t work Fridays?”
“Normally she did. She’d taken that Friday off as a personal day.”
“Do you know why?” Declan asked.
“I assumed to have a long weekend with her dad, but she must have planned it as a surprise, because when she didn’t show up for work Monday my first call was to him to see when she’d left. He said she hadn’t been there all weekend. That’s when I knew.”
“So you think she was taken or killed before she reached her dad’s?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“What time did she leave on Thursday?”
“Five, maybe five-thirty.”
Declan jotted down the information as Griffin continued to question.
“I thought you worked the early-bird shift?”
“I do. Started this summer. Prior to that I was nine-to-five.”
“And Marley?”
“The same, though she always stayed late. . . . Come to think of it, that night she seemed particularly anxious to get going.”
“Sounds like you were one of the last people—if not the last—to see Marley Trent alive.”
“Other than her killer,” Paul said.
“Right.”
“Did you walk her out?”
“Yes. We were both parked in the garage.”
“Did you see her get into her car?”
“Yes.”
“A 2007 GMC Envoy?”
“Y . . . esss,” he said, drawing out the word as his brows pinched. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand where you are going with these questions.”
“We’re trying to establish exactly—or as closely as we can—when she was taken.”