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19

South Fork, Colorado

Kara watched Michael’s expression as he spoke to Matt. Usually her partner had an enviable poker face, but right now she saw stress in his tight jaw.

“Matt, I don’t think Gardner killed him,” Michael said.

Kara raised an eyebrow. Matt didn’t think that, did he? Did he have evidence they didn’t have?

Michael continued after listening. “Gardner was forthcoming, showed receipts from a gas station that he was a hundred miles from Fort Collins when Donovan left the nursery, telling his co-worker that he was going home because of food poisoning. Gardner seems genuinely concerned and very agitated.” He listened, relaxed, and said, “Okay. Call when you land.” He pocketed his phone and told Kara, “Matt’s on his way to Denver.”

“The boyfriend is dead?”

“Yes. Same MO, except his body was found in his house, not outside. It appears they were waiting for him.”

She glanced at the closed door. “We need to tell Andrew.”

“Now that it’s just us,” Michael said, “how do we approach these two?”

She’d been thinking about that for the last hour. “Did you see the look on Riley’s face when she first saw us?”

“She wanted to run. Guilt?”

“Fear. Deep fear.”

“I didn’t notice,” Michael said. “I was more concerned about whether one or both of them had a weapon.”

“Andrew grabbed her so she couldn’t run. I’m wondering if when she saw me the other day in Ashland her running was also out of fear. I didn’t get as good a look at her face then.”

“Most people who run from the cops have something to hide,” Michael said.

“Maybe, but...” Kara couldn’t quite articulate what she had thought when Riley first recognized her. “She was scared of us, or maybe authority in general. It was deep, not fleeting.” She shrugged, wishing she had the words to explain. “Anyway, I don’t think Andrew Gardner planned to run. He was surprised to see us, but quickly admitted he was the anonymous caller.”

Michael said, “When he finds out his boyfriend is dead he’s going to be a mess.”

“We can’t let him walk away,” Kara said.

“No one thinks he’s guilty. He was more than a hundred miles away when Smith was leaving work.”

“Technically, we know at least three people are involved,” Kara said, “so we can hold him on obstruction of justice, at least overnight.”

Michael frowned, so Kara continued, “Look, I don’t think he’s involved either. His reaction is justifiable and his concern authentic. But we could use his actions to hold him if we need to—he potentially contaminated a crime scene.”

“That’s weak.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but they have answers, and we need them to talk. Consider that as soon as Riley heard about Jane’s murder, she hopped on a plane from France to Oregon but didn’t talk to the police. Then she shows up here, where another friend of hers has been murdered. Maybe she’s investigating on her own, intending to take justice into her own hands—I don’t know. But she came here, with Andrew, a step ahead of us.”

“She could be involved,” Michael said.

“Do you honestly believe that?” Kara didn’t, but maybe she should consider it, based on Riley’s actions. Still, she didn’t get the homicidal vibe from her.

“We won’t know until we start asking questions.”

“I don’t think she’s going to talk unless we have more information to use with her,” Kara said. “Whether she’s scared of us, or just doesn’t like cops, or a criminal, I don’t know. If we can get information out of Andrew, then we can use that with Riley.”

Michael agreed. “Take the lead. And put the earpiece in.”

Kara sighed, but did as Michael instructed. He carefully pinned the mic on her shirt.

She turned it on. “Testing, testing, one-two-three-four.”

“You’re coming through loud and clear,” Ryder said. “We have the video feed working in Pierce’s interrogation room.”

“Switch over to Andrew Gardner’s room. We’re talking to him first.”

Catherine’s voice came through her ear. “Why?”

Kara really hated explaining herself, especially to Catherine. She and Michael were lead, and they should be free to do what they knew was best without some shrink second-guessing them.

But, she put a smile in her voice and said, “Once he finds out that the love of his life has been murdered, he’ll tell us everything he knows. Riley isn’t going to talk until we can tell her something she doesn’t think we know.”

“Based on what?”

“My gut.”

She heard Catherine sigh and Kara rolled her eyes.

“All right,” Catherine said, “Ryder has the video on in Mr. Gardner’s room. I can see him. He looks upset, but he could be involved, so be careful how you approach him with questions. I’ll give you direction.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Kara said with barely veiled sarcasm.

Michael shook his head slightly, urging her to cool it. Always trying to keep the peace.

Kara walked into the room. “Mr. Gardner? I’m Detective Kara Quinn, this is Special Agent Michael Harris, with the FBI. We met at the diner. Thank you for waiting.”

“Did you talk to Donovan? Is he okay?”

Kara sat directly across from Andrew; Michael sat to her right.

Death notifications always sucked. And it was usually best to do it quick.

“We regret to inform you that Donovan Smith was found dead in your house. I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”

He stared at her, his chest hitched, his eyes glazed. “I knew. I knew when he didn’t call me back. He always calls back. I knew something was wrong. Oh, God. I never should have left him. I should have insisted he come with us. What happened? Tell me. Please. Tell me the truth.”

Michael said, “Officers went to the house for a welfare check and entered when they saw a body on the floor in the kitchen. His throat was cut. All physical evidence points to a quick death. I don’t believe he suffered, if that helps.”

Andrew drew in a sharp breath.

“Donovan... He fought back. He’s a big guy, strong. He must have fought back. There has to be evidence—”

“There were no signs of struggle. The Fort Collins Police Department is there now, but they’re holding the scene until the FBI Evidence Response Team arrives. We’ll process the scene and have a better understanding of exactly what happened.”

“I need to go—to be with him.” He put a hand to his mouth and shut his eyes.

“You wouldn’t be allowed into the house tonight,” Kara said. “We believe that Donovan’s murder is connected to three other homicides. We were here to talk to Jesse Morrison because we traced the three dead people to him.”

His eyes shot open. “Three? Donovan is the third, right?”

“No. He’s the fourth.”

His voice was a whisper. “Who?”

Kara heard Catherine’s voice in her ear. “Find out what he knows first.”

She didn’t need Catherine to tell her that. Kara said, “You knew about the murders, didn’t you?”

“I—” He stopped, collected himself. “Riley came to our house last night and told us that Jane and Chris had been killed. I—Donovan and I—knew them. And we—” Again, he stopped, cleared his throat.

“Jane Merrifield and Chris Crossman?” Kara asked to clarify.

“I didn’t know their new last names.”

Bingo. New names.

“But you knew who Riley was talking about when she said Jane and Chris.”

“Yes.”

“Let me tell you what we know,” Kara said.

“No,” Catherine said in her ear. Kara ignored her.

“We know that Jane Merrifield and Chris Crossman are false identities created by Jesse Morrison. We also know that Riley Pierce is a false identity. They don’t exist, except on paper. Do you know their real identities?”

He nodded.

“You’re not Andrew Gardner, are you?”

He shook his head.

“Do you want to explain to us why you have a false identity?”

“I—can’t.”

“Then we’ll have a problem. Because lying on federal forms, to the social security administration, accessory to felony hacking—these are all crimes.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Explain it to me.”

“Tell me. First tell me—who’s the other victim? You said three before Donny—Donovan.” His voice cracked.

“Kara,” Catherine warned in her ear.

“Robert Benson,” Kara said.

A sharp intake of breath told her that Andrew knew exactly who Benson was.

“Robert?” His voice squeaked. “A fifty-ish white man?”

“You know him,” she said bluntly.

He nodded.

“How?”

He shook his head.

“You need to tell us the truth about what you know,” Kara said.

“Your partner was murdered,” Michael added. “Three people you know—four, including Jesse Morrison—are dead. You know who’s responsible.”

Andrew didn’t say anything for a long minute, then he laughed, but it was a twisted, pained laugh. “I was going to say that if I told you, they’d kill me. But they’re already killing us. I’m as good as dead.” His voice cracked.

“If there is a threat to your life,” Michael said, “we can protect you.”

Andrew shook his head. “No, you really can’t.”

Kara saw the fear in his expression as well as hearing the resignation in his voice. “Andrew,” she asked softly, “who killed your friends and your lover?”

He took a deep breath, slowly let it out, composing himself. “I can’t tell you specifically who killed Donovan. I don’t know. But I know why. Because we left.”

“A gang?” Michael said, and Kara shook her head. It wasn’t a gang—not with such a wide range of demographics represented. Men, women, gay, straight, black, white—not a gang. Maybe like a gang.

“A cult?” Kara offered.

Andrew shrugged. “I don’t know what to call Havenwood.”

Kara’s heart raced. This was it. They were close to answers. “What’s Havenwood?” she asked.

“You might call it a commune or a cult, but it’s not. Well, it wasn’t. Not at first. It was heaven on earth...until it became hell.” He took a deep breath. “I—I need a bathroom. And water. Please.”

Michael rose. “Five-minute break,” he said and escorted Andrew down the hall.

In her ear, Catherine said, “Why do you always have to openly defy me?”

“Are you my mother?”

She shouldn’t have said that. This was being recorded, and that sounded downright juvenile.

“It would have been better to find out what he knew specifically, before sharing any information he didn’t have.”

Kara ignored her comment and instead asked, “Have you ever heard of Havenwood?”

“No.”

“Do you think it’s a place? A town?”

Ryder said, “I’m running it.”

Of course he was.

“Ryder,” Catherine said, “set up a call with AD Montero as soon as possible.”

“Who’s that?” Kara asked.

“Tonight, if he can do it, or first thing in the morning. A call is fine, but face-to-face is best.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ryder said.

Kara waited. Waited. “And?” Kara said, growing increasingly irritated. “Who’s AD Montero?”

“Dean Montero is the assistant director of Quantico,” Catherine explained with another sigh. “He’s an expert on cults in the US. He’ll be an invaluable resource if Havenwood is a commune. He could already know something about it.”

Why did everything have to be so difficult with Catherine? No one else on the team made Kara feel inferior. They were a team , a unit, working together toward a common goal. In fact, Catherine treated Sloane with more respect than she did Kara, and Sloane was a rookie.

Originally, Kara thought it was because Catherine was highly educated, a forensic psychiatrist with years of college and experience, and Kara entered the police academy out of high school. Kara had street smarts, not book smarts. But over the last year, Kara realized that while her initial instincts were partly right, mostly it was about Matt: Catherine didn’t approve of their relationship. She pulled the “I’ve been Matt’s friend for fifteen years” card and didn’t think Kara was good enough. And though she had toned down her animosity after the lecture she’d given Kara last summer, her silent disapproval was deafening.

Michael came back in the room. “Where’s Andrew?” Kara asked.

“He was sick in the bathroom. A deputy will escort him back here in a few minutes.”

“Catherine is calling in a cult expert.”

“Dean Montero? I’d like to be in on that call.”

“Hear that Catherine?” Kara said. “So would I.”

Silence, but Kara knew Catherine was fuming. Good. She should have suggested it. She was the shrink, but Kara and Michael were in the field and they needed to be privy to all information. The insight could be helpful.

They heard running down the hall, a shout for a medic. Michael and Kara ran from the room and toward the commotion. Michael said, “I’m a certified EMT, what happened?”

“Mr. Gardner cut himself.”

Michael pushed through; Kara watched from behind him. Andrew Gardner lay on the tile floor, deep cuts in both forearms, from his wrist up almost to the inside of his elbow. Two cops were kneeling next to him trying to put pressure on the wounds. He bled profusely and was trying to fight them, but grew weak from loss of blood.

Michael shouted, “Towels, shirts, whatever you have. Get pressure on the wounds. Ambulance ETA?”

“Ten minutes.”

Michael grabbed everything the deputies shoved at him and wrapped Andrew’s arms tightly. “Everyone out except you—” he pointed to the deputy holding Andrew’s other arm “—and my partner.”

Kara stepped inside the door as the other officers went into the hall.

“Hold on, Andrew,” Michael ordered. “Stay with me. You don’t want to do this.”

“Let me go,” Andrew said, his voice weak. “Let me die.”

“No,” Michael said firmly. “Not on my watch.”

Andrew’s skin was ashen, and his blood seeped bright red through the towels. Kara wished Michael hadn’t asked her to stay—she was good in a crisis, but watching their witness bleed to death was making her squirm. Had he tried to kill himself because his partner was dead? Or because he didn’t want to talk about Havenwood?

By the time the paramedics arrived, Andrew had lost consciousness, but he was still alive and Michael thought they’d stopped the flow of blood.

Michael moved aside as the paramedics took over. “He needs to be on suicide watch,” Michael told them. To the deputy he said, “And we need a guard on the room 24/7.”

“I’ll talk to the sheriff,” the deputy told Michael.

After Andrew was wheeled out of the room, the deputy offered Michael the locker room to clean up. As Michael passed Kara, he said, “I want to talk to Montero before we question Riley Pierce, so however Ryder or Catherine can get him on the line, do it.”

“Yes, boss,” she said.

He gave her an odd look.

She smiled. “You channel a good Matt Costa. He would be so proud.”

Michael just shook his head, but he had a half smile on his face as he followed the deputy down the hall.

Good. She needed to lighten his mood a bit. It had been an all-around shitty day.

She pulled out her phone and called Ryder. “Michael wants to talk to this Montero guy ASAP. One of our witnesses tried to off himself, and I don’t know that he’s going to make it.”