Allison Brennan - Stalked

The cop looked at it critically, then put it on the table in front of him. He sipped his coffee. “Why is Peter Gray’s file so important to you?”

Sean had a suspicion that Mead knew exactly why it was important, but decided being as honest as he could be would yield him the answers he needed. Mead was a cop, through and through, one of the guys who had an internal lie detector and uncanny instincts.

“Mr. Gray seems to have disappeared off the planet. I need to find him.”

“Why?”

“You know that Peter Gray was born Peter McMahon, correct? That his sister was killed when they were kids?”

Mead nodded once.

“Two federal agents and one detective, all involved in the investigation into his sister’s death, were killed within the last two months.” That was a stretch. There was no proof that any of them were murdered, but Sean would bet his last dollar he was right.

Mead didn’t respond, but his body tensed. He was definitely interested.

“Last week, Rosemary Weber, who wrote the book about the McMahon family, was stabbed to death in Queens. All her files related to her research into the Rachel McMahon murder and trial are missing.”

“Why is a private investigator contacting me and not the feds? Or NYPD?”

“RCK consults for the federal government on many cases. If you need confirmation that I’m assisting the FBI in this matter, I can give you the name and number of my contact.”

“You still haven’t told me why you want to find McMahon.”

“He’s either a killer or a potential victim. We won’t know which until we talk to him.”

Mead seemed to assess what Sean said. He’d made a bold statement, but it was the truth.

Mead reached to the seat next to him and picked up a thin folder. He tossed it in front of Sean.

Sean opened it. Inside was a typed report, signed by Mead. Detailed in the report was a disturbing list of vandalism and violence. McMahon had found a dead animal in his bed, notes threatening his life, and there had been at least one attempt to kill him-his brake lines had been cut. Had he not thought quickly and veered up a slope in the road, he would have been seriously injured or killed.

“Do you know who did this?”

Mead shook his head. “It was a difficult investigation. At first no one in my department believed him. They wrote up reports, but nothing came of it. They dismissed it as college pranks. He stopped coming in, but the stalking didn’t stop.”

“You believed him.”

“He came in one last time, when a butchered pig had been left in his bed and his girlfriend found it. He was nineteen. He was concerned about her safety, so I took him to her house. Except that she’d lied to him. Forensics showed that someone had scrubbed Peter’s apartment and removed all traces of the girl who called herself Cami Jones. He stayed with me for a while and changed colleges. When he graduated she came after him again, only this time I was there. She ran, and we agreed that the only way he would be safe was if he changed his name and became someone else.”

“Where is he?”

“I’m not telling you until I talk to Peter and check you out.”

“It’s critical, Detective.”

“You can keep that file. There’s a police sketch of the girl. She’d told Peter she was a year older than him, but I have my doubts. She could have been anywhere between twenty and thirty. I only saw her that one time, and it was briefly, but she had a distinctly different appearance from the last time he’d seen her-she may have had some work done. Nothing major, but enough that the sketch might be a bit off. When Peter knew her, she had long, dark blond hair. She had medium-length streaked hair when I saw her.

“I tried to run her, but there was no record. No record at all. No Cami Jones. She sat in on classes at SU, but was never registered. She used an elderly woman’s house for her drop spot, but told Peter her family issues were complicated. Turns out the woman didn’t know her. Peter, even after all he’s been through, was very trusting. He’d been on his own since he was sixteen.”

Sean looked at the drawing of a young, pretty girl. Not exceptional, but sweet. Girl next door.

He also knew that the FBI could get a warrant for Peter’s new identity and location, and he suspected Mead knew that as well, but Sean didn’t want to threaten the cop. He suspected he’d get the information faster if Mead volunteered it.

Mead leaned forward. “Peter is my brother now. I will do anything for him. He’s not a killer; I stake my life and reputation on that. Which means, if your theory is right, he’s in trouble only if his identity is exposed. I’m not putting him in the line of fire. Understand?”

Sean tapped his card. “See the small print? Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid Protective Services. If you tell me where he is, I can guarantee his safely.”

Mead didn’t look like he believed him. He said, “Turn the page.”

Sean went back to the file. The last page was a photocopy of a typed note. A threat.

I’LL FIND YOU AGAIN.

“Have you talked to Peter recently?”

Mead shook his head. “I don’t know exactly where Peter is. I don’t want to.”

“How do you contact him?”

“He has a P.O. box, and I’m not going to tell you where. Give me twenty-four hours.”

If he only needed a day, he had another way to get ahold of Peter.

“Why do you think he was targeted by this woman?” Sean looked at the sketch again.

“That’s the million-dollar question. He has no idea, but it started his freshman year of high school. I looked through every yearbook from his high school and there was no one named Cami Jones, Cami, or anyone who looked like her. I tracked down several of the blond, Caucasian girls and they didn’t even come close. After he ran away, the harassment stopped, until his third year at SU, after he met Cami.”

“He didn’t put two and two together?”

Mead shook his head. “The harassment didn’t start until nearly a year after he met her.”

Peter had been targeted since he was fourteen. Weber’s book came out when he was fourteen. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Did he show animosity toward Rosemary Weber?”

“The bitch who wrote that book about his family? He didn’t like her. He only mentioned her once; he wasn’t obsessed.”

“I need to talk to him. If all this is true, he may be in danger.”

“He is in danger; that’s why he has a new identity. Anonymity is the only thing that protects him. He’s not a fighter-he runs away. And maybe that’s what keeps him safe and sane.”

“Maybe, but he’s still in danger.”

Mead didn’t want to share. But he said, “I’ll contact him, ask him if he wants to talk to you.”

“The mail takes too long.”

Mead grinned humorlessly. “I didn’t say his P.O. box was the only way I could communicate with him.”

FBI Academy

After her afternoon classes, Lucy went back to Tony’s office. Noah wasn’t there, but she used the key he’d given her to enter.

She wanted to get through this as quickly as possible. Margo had already asked her if something was wrong, and Lucy dismissed her anxiety as concern for Hans. That was in part true, because there was still no change in his condition.

Because it was so easy to slip in and out of the buildings without using a passkey, Lucy couldn’t assume that just because someone had clocked into the building at any one time they didn’t leave and return using another passkey.

She had twelve new agents left to clear, who had all been in their rooms after midnight on Saturday, according to the passkey access report.