Page 9 of Waiting For A Girl Like You (Haven House #4)
“It’s best not to get into it,” Klausen whispered loudly to Anderson. “The whole family is…” He smiled apologetically at them. “It’s just that I would leave it alone. They’ve been through enough.”
Slouched low in his chair with his arms crossed, Samuel glared daggers at Klausen. “Careful, Klausen. You almost sound like you’re protecting our privacy.”
“It’s not our job to protect your privacy, Mr. Fairweather,” Agent Anderson replied evenly. “It’s our job to stop the threat that’s endangering your safety.”
Jamison pressed her lips together to keep quiet.
Her brother was strung so tight that he could snap at any moment, and no one was interested in being around Samuel when he did.
Nor did they want to have to bury two FBI agents in the backyard should he decide to take out his frustrations on the very people who were trying to help.
“And Toby is no longer the threat,” Liam cut in, deliberately moving to block Anderson from Samuel’s view. “It looks like BOP and the Marshal’s office were telling the truth. We tested several false scenarios, and Toby didn’t recognize any of them.”
“He could have been acting,” Klausen pointed out. “This is Tobias Miller we’re talking about. The man is a master at manipulation, so much so that you all allowed him into your lives again and didn’t even realize it.”
“He wasn’t faking,” her father said from the back of the room. Never the type to stay still for very long, he paced in the confined space. “When Toby thought Evie was hurt, he believed it. He was upset.”
“How do you know, Ben?” Bernie asked as she reviewed documents with Annabeth. “This is only your second interaction with him since he’s been incarcerated.”
“Laura Jean and I took all the children go-kart racing one summer. While they were on the track, Toby tried to ram into the back of Samuel’s car and knock him out, but the move backfired.
Toby struck the railing, jamming his shoulder hard enough that we thought we might have to take him to the hospital.
The whole time, he kept screaming the same thing. ”
“Say you’re lying.” Annabeth perked up a little when she gasped at the memory. “I remember that! He kept yelling it.”
“Yeah, he sure as fuck did,” Samuel mumbled softly where only Jamison could hear. “He would say it sometimes, but the day he tried to knock me out of the race because Evie brought me a popsicle, he just kept screaming it. After that, it became his crutch phrase when he was upset.”
Jamison blinked. “He tried to hurt you over a popsicle?”
Samuel gave a half-shrug. “Evie was nice to me before we left to go to the track, and I guess Toby got pissed.”
“Because she was nice to you?”
Turning his head to the monitor that showed his family, a hint of a smile softened her brother’s face. “Back then, that was rare. ”
Will held up the papers in his hand. “And there are a dozen other indicators supporting Liam’s claim.
The biometric scans don’t lie. His body temperature drops when he thinks Evie is hurt.
It spikes when provoked.” He looked over his glasses at Samuel.
“And yes, that includes your little performance.”
“Whoops.” Samuel smirked, not at all remorseful. “What about this Brandy person? That had to be a lie. He had a horde of women at his disposal, and there’s no way some ‘wife’ would allow him to kill and rape women unless she’s as twisted as he is.”
“And no woman would be okay with her man, or whatever, obsessing over someone else so much that he tries to kidnap her,” Jamison added, agreeing with her brother. “I would think even psycho crazies have standards.”
“I’m combing Toby’s history for a Brandy,” Rowan said. “Just the one so far. Brandy T. Carroll. I’ve got transcripts and a paper trail that ends in Kingston.”
“As in Jamaica?” Agent Anderson quirked an eyebrow. “If she’s Bryan Carroll’s daughter, that would make sense. He hails from Boston but ended up in the Caribbean running drugs for his uncle and later built his own empire.”
“Not Jamaica.” Rowan switched out Brandy Carroll’s school transcripts and brought up an island map. “St. Vincent and the Grenadines. Her dad bought her a house there as a high school graduation gift. She still owns it.”
“St. Vincent and the Grenadines isn’t far from Grenada, right?
” Liam stepped closer to the screen as the map expanded, showing he was correct.
“According to the transcripts, this Brandy Carroll is a couple of years younger than Toby, so when she graduated, he would have already been at college in Grenada.”
“She’s CeCe’s age,” Annabeth said, pointing to the school transcript for Rowan to bring it back up for them to view. “Maybe they were in the same classes together.”
Liam rifled through a nearby stack of files. Jamison knew exactly what he was after. The single photo they had of a very young CeCe at school, happy and smiling with friends. “Got a visual yet, Rowan? ”
Rowan’s eyes didn’t leave his laptop screen as CeCe’s transcript popped up next to Brandy Carroll’s, their years of attendance nearly identical. “Not yet, but give me an hour, and you’ll have one.”
“I’m sure CeCe Miller and Brandy Carroll had classes together.
” Agent Anderson said, studying the transcripts.
“Look, I grew up in the Caribbean because of my mother’s work.
Schools are small, and while I’m sure things have changed in the last fifty years, the areas are not that big, so growth would be minimal.
It’s not a stretch to think Brandy and CeCe were in close proximity to one another during their time there.
But do you really believe Miller? He’s probably blowing smoke up your asses to try and divert attention from Sinclair. ”
“We follow every lead,” Will replied with a shrug. “Even the weird ones. Like Liam chasing down a painting at a murder scene. If he hadn’t followed that bizarre lead, Evangeline Fairweather might be dead and Miller still on the loose.”
Samuel tensed, and Jamison risked a glance his way. The color had drained from her brother’s face, and he was no longer paying attention to the conversation, but back to watching Evie on the TV.
Anderson gave a reluctant nod. “Fair. But Miller’s case? It’s never made sense. Ritualistic killings in both South Florida and Missouri that even you haven’t been able to decipher.”
“I have an idea,” Will said evenly, not at all upset by Agent Anderson’s words. “It’s a far-fetched one, but it’s possible.”
“Far-fetched? This whole case is far-fetched.” Anderson flipped open a file sitting on the table before him. “Miller kills those girls and then comes here to do what? Secretly seduce a woman he’s been in love with, except, oh wait, he has a wife hidden away somewhere?”
“Don’t forget, he also breaks into Haven House several times to steal stuff,” Will added, the corners of his mouth lifting into a grin. “Paintings are just some of the items he took. Does anyone know the full list off the top of their head?”
“Ten plates, six Christmas ornaments, two boxes of family photos, a set of antique candlesticks, a wedding dress, a jewelry box, a wedding ring, a spare dining room chair, a mirror, fourteen crystal wine glasses, a chessboard, and twenty-six total paintings not including the ones recovered from the multiple crime scenes,” Liam shot off the list without taking a breath.
“The only thing we’ve recovered is the wedding dress.
Mathis found it when he raided the apartment Toby was staying in while pretending to be Lucas Fields. ”
Annabeth nodded. “My mom is still pissed about that dining room chair, and the crystal glasses were part of her wedding set.”
“So, during the height of his active state, Miller was not only murdering women and trying to get Evangeline Fairweather to fall in love with him while he’s supposedly married to someone else, but he’s also dabbling in lifting random goods from his former residence to do what with exactly?
” Anderson held up a photo of a candlestick.
“Decorate his bachelor pad to make it homier for the misses?”
Jamison stared at Agent Anderson, as did everyone else in the room, all likely thinking the same thing.
Who the hell was this guy? Older than both her dad and Liam’s dad, he had a sharp edge to him.
Anderson appeared capable and confident in what he was saying, even though no one in their right mind would ever challenge Will Cohen openly on a criminal evaluation.
Not that she regularly hung out with her—hopefully—future father-in-law during his brainstorming sessions with the FBI, but she liked to think she had gained enough experience to know Will’s line of thinking was almost always right.
“Funny you should say that.” Liam turned to face the main screen again. “Rowan, bring up the blueprints.”
The movie screen was wiped clean of all data, and the blueprints of what they were calling the mini-Haven House filled every available inch.
Anderson stood and approached the screen to take a closer look. “This place?”
“Nope.” Will excitedly smacked Anderson’s shoulder with the folder he was holding. “Don’t get mad that we kept this from you, but these are blueprints drawn up in 2018 by Michael Sinclair. A mini Haven House.”
“What the hell, Will?” Anderson craned his neck, examining every corner of the drawing. “You hid this?”
“Klausen knew.” Liam gave Klausen an apologetic smile for throwing him under the bus. “I’m sure he forgot since we showed him about five minutes before the raid.”
“A raid executed by the Bureau, led by you.” Anderson glanced back at Liam with an unamused expression. “You are aware you’re no longer an agent? ”
“Very aware.”
“And if this leaks, Klausen’s job could be at risk.”
“Agent Klausen will always have a job, whether with the FBI or with Fairweather Holdings.” Jamison nodded in agreement as her father sat beside Klausen in Anderson’s empty seat.
“If Will kept this quiet, he had a reason. Klausen and his trusted team executed a seamless raid, and best of all, they kept their mouths shut.”
Klausen had pulled twelve agents in for the raids. One had been part of the security detail killed the night the women came. Two of the others who were shot and left in the pool to drown thankfully survived and were at home recuperating.
“With all due respect, Mr. Fairweather,” Anderson said, his tone sharp, “I have a dead agent on my hands.”
Anderson tossed the words over his shoulder, unaware of how seamlessly they struck their target.
The world might think her father was an insensitive ass, but Jamison and everyone else in the room knew he wasn’t.
That agent’s death had completely devastated him, and he was already making plans to care for the man’s widow.
“The days of keeping things quiet are over,” Anderson continued. “And that’s why I’m here.”