Alafair Burke - Dead Connection

“He didn’t go see her about FirstDate,” Ellie said.

“Well, I guess it was about FirstDate to some extent. She opened a new MasterCard, used it on FirstDate, and then within a month, she got a bill for a refrigerator purchased in Houston, Texas.”

“And she reported the fraudulent charges?”

“Oh, sure she did. The credit card company wiped it right off her bill once she swore she didn’t make the purchase, but Carrie wanted them to look into it. You see, she’d only made one charge with that card, and it was to FirstDate.”

Credit cards. Tatiana’s heroin bust started as an investigation into unauthorized credit card use. Lev Grosha paid a motel clerk to run credit cards through a scanner that stole the numbers. FirstDate had access to thousands of customers’ credit cards. And Ellie was still trying to tie this strand together, but someone named Edmond Bertrand had been arrested for credit card fraud as well.

“Credit card companies rarely launch their own investigations into fraud,” Ellie explained. “They just cover the loss, like you said.”

“That’s what they told her. So she called the police, but they gave her some hooey about the report needing to go to the police down in Houston unless she had evidence of criminal activity in New York.”

“So do you know how Detective Becker came to take her report?” Ellie asked.

“Well, she started complaining to FirstDate. I remember because, in light of her studies, you know, she was so fascinated that she could not for the life of her get on the phone with a real person. All of the company’s business was conducted on the Internet. So she sent a message to them on their Web site, telling them that their – well, I don’t know what it would be called-”

“Their server?”

“Something like that. But she said something wasn’t secure because she’d only used her card one place and was sure she hadn’t lost track of it physically. Then the detective showed up. I don’t know if he came because of the report to FirstDate, or to MasterCard, or to the precinct, but I’m sure the man was Ed Becker.”

“And what happened?”

“Nothing. He took the report, but told her that chances were, nothing would come of it. He told her most of the fraud cases just fall into a black hole.”

It was a true statement, but Ed Becker would have had no legitimate reason for being the one to deliver it. Caroline’s complaint wouldn’t have triggered a home visit, and Becker wasn’t in the fraud unit in any event. And Flann had run Caroline Hunter’s name through the NYPD system, and no credit card complaint appeared. If Becker had gone there to talk to her about her suspicions, it hadn’t been on the NYPD’s behalf.

“Did she continue complaining after the report was taken?” Ellie asked.

“I just don’t know. I left town and she never mentioned it again. This has something to do with her murder, doesn’t it?”

“I honestly don’t know, Mrs. Hunter. But I’m trying to find out.”

“Will you please tell me if you learn something new?”

“I promise.”

If Caroline Hunter was killed because she was jeopardizing a credit card fraud scheme, it explained why she and Tatiana were killed by the same gun. Both women had gotten in the way, so both women were silenced. It also explained why they were the only victims who were shot – two bullets to the back of the head, quick and easy – while Amy Davis and Megan Quinn were asphyxiated. It explained why Amy Davis’s murder had been so brutal, so intimate – it was, in fact, the first of its kind, not the third. And if Amy Davis’s murder had been personal, it might also explain why Peter Morse detected a southern accent in the caller who told him to retrieve Enoch’s letter from the library.

All along, they’d been looking at two patterns, not one. Tatiana Chekova and Caroline Hunter. Amy Davis and Megan Quinn. Four women, two patterns. She needed to go to Brooklyn again.

ELLIE PHONED THE ROSTOV APARTMENT FROM THE BUILDINGstairwell. “Hello. This is Laura Liemann calling from the American Red Cross. Is Vitali Rostov in?”

Once Zoya confirmed that her husband was unavailable, Ellie made her way upstairs and knocked on the Rostovs’ door. She heard a shuffle behind the peephole, but no one answered.

“Zoya, it’s Detective Hatcher. I know you’re there. Open up.”

She heard locks tumbling, then Zoya’s face appeared in a crack in the doorway.

“Please, go away.”

“We need to talk. I know you’re having some doubts about your husband right now. Denying your suspicions is not going to make them go away.”

“Vitya is not a perfect man, but he would not do the thing that you are suggesting.”

“I never suggested anything, Zoya. If you think he’s connected to your sister’s death, then you came to that on your own. Let me in. If you’re expecting your husband to come home, we can go somewhere else to talk. I can help you with the kids.”

Zoya opened the door. “Vitya is working late tonight, and Anton is napping. If we must talk, then we should do it now.”

The apartment was quiet, a first. The baby, Tanya, sat happily in a bouncy seat, popping bubbles of spit with her lips. Ellie took a seat on a black leather sofa across the room.

“When you said your husband couldn’t have done whatever it was you thought I was suggesting, what were you referring to?”

Zoya shrugged but held Ellie’s gaze. “I do not know. I figure, the police keep coming to our door. They must think Vitya did something wrong.”

“Or it could have something to do with the fact that the two of you saw her with an FBI agent right around the time that two of Vitya’s friends went to federal prison.”

“I told you that I do not know the man in your picture.”

“I know what you told me, Zoya, but I saw your expression when you asked if Lev Grosha went to prison because of Tatiana. You recognized him. My guess is you also know a man named Alex Federov. Did Vitya tell you he was killed in prison?” Zoya said nothing. “When you found out that the man in the car with Tatiana was an FBI agent, it was the first time you realized that your sister was responsible for Vitya’s friends being arrested. And now you’re wondering if she was killed for it.”

“But she was my sister-”

“I know you don’t want to believe it. I wouldn’t want to either. But your husband is in this a lot deeper than you’ve ever admitted to yourself. The man who was here with me when I first met you, Ed Becker? Do you know that he’s dead?”

Zoya’s eyes finally left Ellie’s and dropped to the floor. “Yes. I saw it on the news.”

“Let me guess. Vitya was watching very attentively.” Ellie took Zoya’s silence as confirmation. “You knew him before I ever walked into this apartment with him, didn’t you? I remember, when I came here that first day, you asked, Who are you ? But you weren’t looking at Ed Becker. You only looked at me. And when your husband asked who was at the door, you said it was the police: the man from before , plus a woman – me. Becker was here talking to your husband, wasn’t he? He was here alone, and then came back up with me.”

“He was a friend of Vitya.”

Ellie shook her head, wondering how the last week might have unfolded if she’d realized earlier that Becker was not arriving at the Rostovs’ apartment the day she saw him on the street, but leaving.

“ Friends ? If they were friends, why did the three of you hide the fact that you’d just seen each other five minutes before I knocked on your door? You need to tell me what you know, Zoya, or I’ll go to the FBI, and they’ll ask the U.S. Attorney’s Office to open a grand jury investigation.” Zoya could not be forced to testify about her communications with her husband, but she didn’t know that. “Let me see if this gets you started. Vitya doesn’t work as a security guard. He might work at a warehouse somewhere, but it’s a cover for widespread criminal activity that includes dealing in heroin and stolen credit card numbers. When Becker was on the job, he was on the payroll.”