James Swain - No Good Deed

“Why do you think that quote’s important?” he asked.

“There was a similar quote in the house of the Lakeland victim,” she said.

“You went to the Lakeland victim’s house?”

“My boss sent me. He thought it would add depth to the piece I’m writing. The missing Lakeland woman is a retired teacher named Amy Potter. Her husband invited me into the kitchen for coffee. There was a plaque by the refrigerator that said, ‘Some of your greatest hurt will come from people you helped.’ It struck me as odd, you know?”

He was suddenly glad Gamble had stayed in the car.

“You found a link between Amy Potter and Elsie Tanner,” he said.

“It sure feels that way. But what does it mean?”

“I heard similar sentiments when I was a cop. You help people, but later regret it. Elsie Tanner and Amy Potter may have both helped people, and gotten burned.”

“Is that significant?”

“It’s a link, and needs to be explored. Are you up for it?”

“Me? I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Murder cases weren’t solved in a day. It was all about digging, and grim resolve. Gamble’s cell phone beeped in her purse. She pulled out the device and visually devoured the message. It seemed to rattle her, and she looked at him. “A nurse has gone missing in Gainesville. Her neighbor found her car running in the driveway. My boss wants me to drive up so I can file a story in the morning.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Not really. This is scary.”

She shivered from an imaginary chill and started to get out. He stopped her.

“Do you own a gun?” he asked.

“It’s back at my apartment.”

“It’s not doing you any good there.”

“I know. My boss doesn’t want us bringing guns to work, so I leave it at home.”

“But you know how to use one.”

“Absolutely. I got a concealed weapon permit when I moved into my apartment. I go to the pistol range twice a week.”

He reached over and punched a combination into a lock in the glove compartment. It sprang open, revealing four semiautomatic handguns resting in a specially made rack.

“Take your pick,” he said.

She examined each weapon before settling on the GLOCK and slipping it into her purse. It seemed to calm her down, and she flashed a brave smile.

“Thanks, partner,” she said.

The link between Amy Potter and Elsie Tanner may have been nothing, but it still needed to be explored. He let Google Maps guide him to the sheriff’s office in Citrus Park, and parked in the lot beside the building. Then he called a fifteen-year-old girl named Nicki Pearl.

“Hey, Jon,” she said cheerfully.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said.

“Nope, homework’s all done.”

“How would you like to do some snooping for me?”

“You bet I would.”

Four months ago, Nicki’s parents had hired him to figure out why strange men were stalking their daughter. During his investigation, he’d discovered that Nicki was taking a CSI course at school, and had a real passion for police work. After his job was finished, and Nicki was no longer in danger, he’d accepted an invitation to speak to her class about cases he’d worked back when he was a detective. He’d made it a point to emphasize to the class that while knocking on doors was important in solving cases, it was forensic work that often brought the bad guys to justice.

“Write down these two names. Amy Potter, Elsie Tanner,” he said.

“Done. Who are they?” she asked.

“They’re both victims of horrible crimes. Amy Potter was abducted in Lakeland, and Elsie Tanner was murdered outside of Tampa. A reporter found a link between them that needs to be checked out. It may be important.”

“Cool. What’s the link?”

“They both helped people, but got burned for it. I want you to do background searches of them on the internet. See if they’re in some way connected.”

“This sounds like fun.”

“There’s more. I also need you to visit the clerk of courts websites in Lakeland and Tampa, and do searches of their names. Maybe they were both involved in a lawsuit, and the person they sued is now paying them back.”

“Which would explain the motive.”

He smiled into the phone. During his talk, he’d emphasized the importance of learning a motive, since it often led to discovering a criminal’s identity.

“Last thing,” he said. “I need you to see if there are newspaper articles where Potter and Tanner are mentioned. I’ll give you a tip that should help. Most newspapers archive past stories on their websites. These stories don’t come up in a Google search. You have to visit the newspaper’s site, and do a search on the internal search engine.”

“That’s stupid. Why don’t they just post the links, instead of making people do the extra work?”

“I asked a reporter at the Sun Sentinel in Fort Lauderdale that question. She told me that when a person uses the site, they’re exposed to advertising, and that’s how the paper makes money.”

“I still think it’s stupid. I’ll start tonight.”

“Not before you get your parents’ permission. Understood?”

“Sure, Jon. I’ll ask them once I get off the phone.”

“Good. Have you spoken to your aunt Beth lately?”

“Not in a while. She disappeared on us. Are you guys still dating?”

Nicki’s aunt was Special Agent Beth Daniels with the FBI. He’d met Beth while protecting Nicki, and they’d ended up catching a pair of serial killers. A bond had formed that had led to several dates. The relationship had been going in the right direction, and they’d decided to spend a long weekend together hiking in the Smoky Mountains. On the first day, Beth had gotten a phone call from her boss, who’d assigned her to a new case. Beth had left that day, and he hadn’t heard from her since.

“Status unknown. I haven’t spoken to your aunt in a month,” he said.

“She’s like that. Don’t take it personally.”

It was amusing to get dating advice from a teenager, and he laughed silently into his cell phone.

“Would it be okay if I got my CSI class involved?” she asked. “My teacher gave us this cold case to work on as a project, only it’s boring, and no one’s into it. This case would be great, since it’s happening right now.”

Nicki’s CSI classmates were sharp kids. After his talk, they’d asked questions about cutting-edge forensics such as scrape DNA and latent fingerprint detection, and obviously had done a lot of reading. Having them work on this would save time, and might very well lead to a breakthrough. The only problem was, if they discussed it on Facebook or Instagram, the police investigation could be jeopardized.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. “If one of them discusses the case outside of the classroom, or on social media, it would create real problems.”

“What if I get them to sign a pledge?” she asked. “That’s what the Secret Service agent who visited the class made us do. If we broke it, our teacher said she’d fail us.”

“The whole class?”

“Uh-huh. We’re all trying to keep our grade points up to get into college. Nobody wants to get an F, so we stayed quiet.”

“Okay. Run it by your teacher. If she’s willing to get the class to sign a pledge, then get them involved. If not, you’ll have to play Sherlock Holmes by yourself. Sound fair?”

She giggled. “That sounds like a great idea.”

He found Nicki — unlike most teenagers — easy to have a conversation with, and he would have kept talking to her, only the GNC store would be closing soon. He needed to go inside the sheriff’s station, and convince whoever was on duty to visit the mall with him to review the store’s surveillance tapes. If he was lucky, the face of Elsie’s killer would pop up, and he’d be one step closer to rescuing Skye.