Page 26 of The Catcher (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #5)
N oah entered Savannah’s office, his thoughts flipping through past conversations. Despite being taken off the case, he couldn’t resist the pull of curiosity when Savannah mentioned a box in her office, paperwork from another investigation.
A framed photograph on Savannah’s desk caught his attention, drawing his gaze to the smiling faces of Savannah and her partner Cora, captured in a moment of joy. Despite the situation, a fleeting smile formed as he remembered happier times before Cora’s diagnosis of cancer.
Turning his attention to the rest of the office, Noah’s eyes landed on a weathered banker box nestled amidst a sea of modern equipment. It stood out like a relic, its faded label hinting at forgotten files.
Curiosity piqued, Noah approached the box, his fingers tracing the edges of the worn cardboard.
It was a rare sight in the digital age of law enforcement, where most open or unsolved cases had been transferred to digital archives. Yet, here it sat, a tangible reminder of a bygone era of investigative work.
Many backup copies were tucked away, others discarded as time pushed cases to the back of society’s mind.
Some of it was the product of shoddy police work, though mostly because they needed more evidence or leads.
Attorneys wouldn’t move forward unless they had a slam-dunk case.
Too much was riding on it. Their reputation mostly.
If leads in cases hadn’t dried up and gone cold, the case was still considered active, even if it hadn’t seen eyeballs in decades.
Not that anyone from the department would tell the public that.
Nope, an investigator was looking at them weekly. Yeah, bullshit. They were too snowed under by anything that was front and center.
Noah lifted the lid, revealing a treasure trove of old case files and folders. Each item held a piece of the past, a thread waiting to be unraveled.
As he thumbed through the contents, Noah’s eyes darted from one file to the next, absorbing the details etched into yellowed pages.
It was chaotic. Names. Locations. Nothing familiar at first. But the sight of one particular folder caught his attention, causing his brow to knit together in confusion.
Ashford Royale Casino.
He flipped through it, and his eyes widened.
Long before Noah had returned to High Peaks, a BCI investigator was involved in conducting a background investigation into money laundering.
The investigation focused on patrons allegedly hired to lose illegally obtained money provided by the Ashford family.
The funds would be commingled with cash received from normal casino operations.
From there, the money would be placed into the financial system, and additional schemes would be used to eliminate the auditing trail and the origin of the funds.
The funds would then be transferred through various jurisdictions and businesses to decrease the ability to trace the source.
Once that was done, the money could be accessed through clean accounts to purchase real estate, luxury items, and other investments.
It all made sense.
Noah stopped reading, his mind returning to the conversation with Maggie about the newspaper, then to the expensive rental properties that the Ashfords oversaw and the many businesses Luther had invested in.
Someone was already looking into it?
As Noah skimmed through the folder’s contents, an insatiable appetite overtook his thoughts, momentarily distracting him from the day’s events.
However, his focus sharpened abruptly when he encountered a familiar name — his father’s.
The realization sent a jolt of surprise through him.
The Adirondack Sheriff’s Office had been called to assist with the investigation.
This detail felt like hitting the jackpot, except for one glaring issue — he noticed the label outside the box: “Dormant.” Why had the investigation been set aside?
Lost in contemplation, Noah was startled by a knock at the door. Glancing up, he saw Felix Harrington, one of the few decent cops in the department, standing in the doorway. Felix was a young officer, still relatively new to the force, but his loyalty and dedication were unwavering.
Felix had a boyish charm about him, with tousled brown hair and a perpetual earnestness in his expression.
His blue eyes held a hint of determination, tempered by a youthful innocence that belied the harsh realities of police work.
Despite his inexperience, Felix had already earned a reputation for his integrity and willingness to stand up for what was right.
“Heard you were back. Quite the shit show,” Felix remarked, stepping into the office with a sympathetic expression.
“Yeah,” Noah replied tersely, his thoughts drifting back to the complexities of the case.
“I’m sorry to hear about the way things panned out,” Felix offered. “I think they’re making a big mistake assigning Terry.”
“It’s not ideal, but what can you do,” Noah responded, his gaze returning to the file before him. With a sense of reluctance, he tucked the folder back into the box and replaced the lid. He knew he would need more time to examine the contents thoroughly.
Felix wandered further into the office, glancing curiously around the room. “I figure someone has it in for you higher up,” he remarked, his voice full of frustration at the department’s politics.
“You hear any names?”
“If I did, I would tell you.”
“I know.” Noah smiled and nodded. “Hey, um, would you do me a big favor? ”
“Sure.”
“I’ve been wondering if the perp responsible for those teens’ deaths didn’t get his hands bloody before Pete Landry.”
“You mean out of state?”
“No, in the surrounding counties. Something that may have looked like an accident but wasn’t.”
“Maybe. But that’s for Braithwaite to figure out now.”
“If he can. Listen, you think you could look into any deaths of teenagers that have occurred in the past year?”
Felix locked eyes with him, his eyebrows rising. “Noah, you know what happened the last time, when you put me on the Leeman case? Savannah found out and blew her top.”
“I know, but this is different; you wouldn’t be on the case. Just running a few checks. If anyone asks, you’re following a hunch.”
“Your hunch.”
Noah grinned at him as he lifted the box to take it out of the room. He sidled beside him, about to walk out the door, and stopped. “I’ve got a six-pack with your name on it.”
“Noah,” he said, half groaning.
He smiled. “You’re a champ. Trust me. One day, your name is going to be engraved on that door.
Felix Harrington. It’s going to look great,” he said, buttering him up as he walked out.
He didn’t have to follow up; he knew Felix would do it.
Since taking the position at State Police Troop B Headquarters, he’d gone out of his way to say good things about Felix.
He’d given him numerous opportunities that would eventually help him advance up the ladder faster than others.
Noah headed out, sitting in his vehicle and jotting down on paper the evidence presented over the last three crime scenes. The wheels of his mind churned over, refusing to let go.
McKenzie didn’t like him one bit. “The guy is a jackass,” he muttered to Porter.
“Maybe so, but he thinks he knows what he’s doing,” Porter replied.
“We’ll see.” McKenzie scoffed, unable to hide his disdain.
Just then, Terry Braithwaite strutted back into the room like a peacock, his confidence oozing from every pore.
Despite being absent for several hours, he requested that every agency involved in the case be present for an update.
While they had been led to believe that Terry had only just been assigned to the case, it was evident that he had already been digging through the evidence gathered, almost as if he had been preparing for Noah’s downfall.
“Can I have your attention,” Terry announced, his voice carrying an air of self-importance. “It looks like our perp made a huge mistake.”
McKenzie exchanged a knowing glance with Porter, their skepticism evident. They both braced themselves for whatever grand revelation Terry was about to unveil, already anticipating the inevitable clash of egos that was sure to follow.
McKenzie clenched his jaw as Terry delivered his update, his frustration boiling beneath the surface. The man’s audacity to strut in and take credit for the work of others grated on McKenzie’s nerves, but he remained composed, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Terry smirked, reveling in the spotlight.
“As you know, we have been actively monitoring Hailey Matthews’ phone for pings for the past three days.
We wanted to see if it connected to the cellular towers in the area.
This afternoon, we had a breakthrough; the phone briefly pinged in Wilmington.
That means it was on and working.” He took a breath.
“Interestingly enough, we ran a print we found today on the tubes at the Banning site through CODIS, and lo and behold, they’re a match.
Whose name comes up? Joe Mitchell,” Terry announced, his voice laced with smug satisfaction.
“Where does he live? You got it. Wilmington!”
McKenzie exchanged a knowing glance with Porter.
“After speaking with the phone company and putting in a request at social media sites, we were able to pinpoint an exchange between Hailey and an account tied to an IP address that Mitchell has been using to catfish teens into meeting with him,” Terry continued.
“Here’s what you should know. The guy has two priors, one for violence, the other which was drug-related.
He served a few years inside. But here’s the kicker.
After getting out, somehow he landed a job as none other than…
” Terry paused for dramatic effect, his gaze flicking over to Porter and Mc Kenzie as if to rub it in their faces.
“The janitor at the high school right here in High Peaks.”