Page 6

Chapter Six

Sylvie Deering January 2025 Tuesday — 3:46 pm

“Where is Coco?”

“I didn’t bring her in today,” Sylvie responded to Bit without breaking her concentration. The display of the 4k monitor held the answers that she was seeking. Unfortunately, she just couldn’t spot them yet. “Brook and I drove straight back from Jordan Miles’ penthouse. I didn’t have time to stop by the apartment.”

Sylvie had taken a seat in the conference room to study the timeline of Mara Miles’ murder. The software the firm utilized could be viewed anywhere, but the size of the monitor made all the difference when trying to unearth a thin piece of thread that could unravel the entire investigation.

“Was everything made of gold?” Bit pulled out a chair and took a seat next to her. A vivid red hue was being swung back and forth in her peripheral view. She reached into the proffered bag of Skittles without taking her attention away from the screen. “Can you imagine having that much money?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I’d have two of those Litter-Robots, one of those cat exercise wheels, and an endless supply of catnip for Coco. Trust me, you’d be surprised by the cost of premium organic catnip. Anyway, if I buy that house in Georgetown, Coco might be relegated to generic cat food for the rest of her life.”

Bit laughed, but Sylvie was only half-kidding. While she earned an excellent salary, the value of real estate in Georgetown could be quite steep. The house she had her heart set on was located on the outskirts, yet the mortgage would still be slightly over what she had in mind for her monthly budget.

“With that much space to run around in, Coco would get so much exercise that she might be willing to eat generic cat food.” Bit used his grey loafer to push the chair closer to her so that he could nudge her arm with his elbow. “And if you think Coco would love one of those spinning wheels, Zoey and I can get one for her as a housewarming present.”

Sylvie couldn’t help but smile at how Bit treated Coco like an actual niece.

She reflected on how much their friendship had grown since they had begun working together at S&E Investigations. There was a time when they could have been more than friends, but both of them had ultimately realized that what they needed most in their lives was the unwavering support and trust their friendship provided in the grand scheme of things.

She wouldn’t change their decision for all the money in the world.

“Did Mr. Forbes mention why he owes Boss so many favors?” Bit asked as he settled back in his chair. His moniker for Jordan had emerged from the man’s name being on the magazine’s billionaire list one year. “I mean, we’re bound to find out the reason that he lends us his private jet whenever we need it, right?”

“Neither one of them said a word about it,” Sylvie revealed before placing the small ball of sugar on her tongue. The artificial sweetener was exactly what she needed at the moment. If she continued to sit in the conference room and stare at the screen without any results, there was a chance she could be here all night. “Brook and Jordan didn’t seem overly friendly toward one another, either. The entire interview was professional and civil. The favor Jordan owes her almost certainly has something to do with when Brook was working as a profiler with the Bureau.”

“Or the favor has to do with Jacob,” Bit proposed before adjusting his knit hat.

Sylvie's gaze finally strayed from the monitor to focus on him. She narrowed her eyes when she caught sight of his discomfort. It was evident he had uncovered some small detail, and she doubted it had anything to do with Jordan Miles.

“Did you find something to connect Mitch Norona to Jacob?”

“Maybe,” Bit hedged, his expression conflicted as he stared at the bag of Skittles. “I don’t know if it means anything, though. I discovered that Norona didn't start out as a trial attorney. He was initially a financial lawyer. He transitioned to criminal law in his second year of passing the bar, and he’s been with the firm in Baltimore ever since.”

“How does that connect to Jacob?” Sylvie asked, adjusting her glasses as she considered the implications. No matter how she tried to draw a line between the dots, no obvious pattern emerged in her mind. “You lost me, Bit.”

“Have you ever wondered how Jacob survived all those years? Being able to subvert the federal authorities with such ease?” Bit shook the bag of Skittles, clearly searching for his favorite flavor. He seemed to have lost interest in the candy when he glanced her way. “Boss’ brother doesn’t have the personality to work in a fast-food restaurant. He wouldn’t clean hotel rooms, either.”

“Brook's profile consistently references that Jacob usually finds places to work that pay cash, like a garage in a small town. He would have stuck with what he knows best, which is vehicles. And considering that he was always on the move, it’s not surprising that his expenses were cheap. Out-of-the-way hotels, buses, maybe hitchhiking…you know the drill for serial killers like him.”

“I don’t know, Little T. That’s the point.” Bit continued to jostle his knee with unease. “Boss foiled a few of Jacob’s elaborate escape plans from federal prison, but setting up such detailed schemes before turning himself into the FBI would have taken a lot of money. A lot. And not your hourly-mechanic-wage-spent-on-food-and-shelter money, either.”

Bit wasn’t able to keep the flicker of uncertainty from crossing his features. She took his reaction to mean that he had discovered something of substance, yet it wasn’t something verifiable.

“I might be reaching here, but it feels as though finances could be the connection between Jacob and Norona.”

Sylvie and Bit fell silent, each in their own thoughts, eating the Skittles until Bit began to move his knee up and down once again, though she guessed this time it was due to boredom. She wasn’t surprised when he finally asked the question as to why she was sitting in the conference room in the first place.

“What exactly are you hoping to gain by staring at the timeline? I’m pretty sure it isn’t going to change anytime soon.”

“You know how Kitsis was able to grant us access to Mara’s online planner?” Sylvie reached into the small red bag and pulled out a yellow Skittle. “Well, as you can see, Mara was pretty obsessive over her schedule. She entered everything down to the minute. She took her vitamins at nine o’clock sharp every morning, applied her hand lotion every three hours, and refreshed her makeup every day at one o’clock in the afternoon. I know you’re working on some of the entries that seem coded, like the ones that have two initials, but what I find even more interesting is that she made a notation that Jordan was arriving home at seven o’clock on Sunday night. Only he didn’t mention to us that he was running late.”

“Could Mara have typed it in her planner as a general entry?” Bit popped a couple more Skittles into his mouth, though doing so didn’t prevent him from finishing his thought. “You know, husband coming home between seven and eight? Does it even matter? Nothing changes the fact that Mara Miles called 911 and told the operator that she believed her husband was trying to kill her.”

“It does matter, though.” Sylvie took another Skittle before pointing it toward the monitor. The implications of her theory could very well change the trajectory of the investigation, and not in a good way. “What if the killer assumed Jordan was going to be home? The security system was shut down exactly at seven o’clock. Mara probably didn’t even notice it at first, if ever.”

“Didn’t the victim keep a physical planner, too?”

"Yes, but it wasn't in the evidence the police collected from the house.” Sylvie sighed, unhappy that she wasn’t going home to Coco anytime soon. While the automatic feeder would dispense her dinner around six o’clock this evening, Sylvie would prefer Coco not be alone for the entire day. “I guess I can have Kitsis meet me at the Miles’ residence. It has to be there somewhere.”

“Or her car,” Bit suggested as he pushed his chair back. “I can check while I’m there.”

“Where?”

“The Miles’ estate,” Bit said with a frown, as if she was at fault for not keeping up with the conversation. “Big T and I are driving over there in about an hour. I need to take a look at the security system, but Detective Kitsis couldn’t meet us until around five-thirty.”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” Sylvie said with relief as she held out her hand for the rest of the Skittles. Bit frowned even more, but he eventually gave up the goods. “Coco loves you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bit muttered good-naturedly before turning to walk out the door. “Hey, Boss. Little T has a theory, and it isn’t good. I mean, it’s good, but not for our client. You know what I mean.”

“Hear me out,” Sylvie stated as Brook entered the conference room after Bit headed for his office. It wasn’t like he had given Sylvie any additional time to think through her speculation that the killer had other plans. “We know Mara’s murder was premeditated based on the alarm system being turned off sixty minutes before her death. Seven o’clock is a very specific time, so why would the unsub wait for over an hour before killing Mara Miles? Was the killer hiding in the house? Did the unsub ring the doorbell, posing as a guest?”

Brook settled in Bit’s chair as she listened to Sylvie’s theory.

“There was a lone coffee cup in the sink. The dishwasher was empty, and there were no empty bottles or cans in the garbage bin.” Brook crossed her legs as she studied the timeline displayed on the monitor. “If Mara let someone in the house, she either didn’t offer her guest a beverage or the guest declined the overture. One of the two.”

Sylvie had always admired Brook’s composure and her ability to handle what life threw her way. The woman’s proficiency in dissecting information, to see beyond the obvious, was astounding. She could scan data points and crime scene photographs with unsettling precision. Truthfully, it bordered on the extraordinary.

Being raised in the same childhood home as a serial killer had unfortunately caused Brook to establish emotional barriers upon emotional barriers until she had closed out the world. Working as a criminal profiler for the FBI had honed her ability to immerse herself into the psychology of unsubs. She was able to delve into the dark corners of human behavior with a fearlessness that Sylvie sometimes found hard to match.

In contrast to Sylvie’s petite frame and energetic personality, Brook was tall with long black hair and striking blue eyes. A controlled strength was displayed in every measured movement, and she never spoke without first considering every word. Even her fashion sense reflected her tailored and polished demeanor.

“Mara was in her bedroom, presumably working.” Brook rested her elbows on the arms of the chair as she rotated the seat to face Sylvie. “I received the crime scene photos taken by forensics, and Mara was wearing a nightgown with a matching silk robe. There was a single wine glass, half full, still on the table where her laptop sat open.”

“So, the killer was hiding for almost an hour,” Sylvie murmured, her theory gaining steam. “What if Mara wasn’t supposed to be the only victim? If Jordan was supposed to be home at seven o’clock, then the killer had taken that into account.”

“Reach out to Alex DeSilva.” Brook stood without any hesitation before continuing to lay out the next steps of the investigation. “Request a rotating shift to surveil Jordan’s movements, but have them do so from afar. The police believe Mara was the sole target. Therefore, the unsub isn’t concerned with the authorities making the connection. This affords us the ability to stay one step ahead. I’ll phone Jordan and explain the situation to him. He’ll no doubt push back and want his own security team, but they won’t have the credentials for the type of surveillance we’ll need going forward.”

“I’ll call Alex now,” Sylvie said, pushing away from the table. She folded the top opening of the small Skittles bag so that none of the little candies could escape on the way back to her office. Once she had her phone in hand and the chair pushed back against the table, she decided to clarify one more thing. “Any special instructions?”

“No,” Brook replied as she waited for Sylvie to join her in the hall. “Explain the situation to Alex, request that he keep the details confidential, but leave the particulars to him. Oh, and you’ll want to let him know I’m still drafting the profile. The suspect pool is wide open right now. And Sylvie?”

She stopped short of the doorway to her office.

“Yes?”

“Good work today,” Brook praised with a slight nod of appreciation. “After you speak with Alex, you’ll want to call the real estate agent.”

“Brook, I—”

“The price of that two-story you were looking at just dropped ten thousand dollars in price,” Brook revealed, even though Sylvie hadn’t gotten such an alert on her phone. “If you lower your offer by another ten, I have a feeling the owners will take it.”

Sylvie was left in her doorway to stare after Brook. Had she put in some call to the real estate agent or owner? Sylvie quickly dismissed such a notion. Brook held some sway in certain social circles, but a home on the outskirts of Georgetown probably wasn’t a topic of discussion at those events. She had probably been keeping tabs on the property as a favor.

Sylvie’s phone vibrated in her hand.

A notification appeared on the bottom of the screen from the website that she used to keep tabs on home prices. The alert reiterated what Brook had just divulged, and Sylvie couldn’t stop her excitement from bubbling over.

The pieces in her life were finally falling into place.

As she stared at her phone, another notification appeared above the first one. Another break in the case had emerged, but this lead provided the team with more of a direction. Bit had been able to decode a set of initials in Mara’s online planner.

Unfortunately, all signs pointed toward corporate espionage.