Allison Brennan - Cutting Edge

She turned the tap and stood under the icy cold water, watched as blood ran off her body in rivulets that soon came clear. She scrubbed her body with his soap, washed her hair with his shampoo.

Maggie didn’t go back to the bedroom. She didn’t need to see him again, and she definitely didn’t want to get any more of his blood on her. Leif Cole was done. She wouldn’t think about him anymore.

Anya missed you .

Maggie knew that no one missed her. No one wanted her. Anya and the professor had been so wrapped up in each other, now they were gone. Jonah Payne had his work and now he and his research were gone, destroyed.

But Maggie wasn’t done.

She pulled on a thin dress that she had stowed in a bathroom cabinet before Cole had come home. Slipping on her sneakers, she was about to leave the way she came through the side door and across the open field in the back to where she’d parked when she saw the cat door.

Why hadn’t see noticed it before?

She rummaged through the kitchen until she found cat food, then shook the box until a small, black cat slipped through the kitty door. She scooped him up and he purred loudly. “Aren’t you sweet?”

She smiled and rubbed her face against his furry neck. Then she left with the cat and his food, with no thought of the dead man.

“Jimsonweed,” Nora said when she walked into the FBI conference room five minutes late for the briefing she’d called.

She dropped her briefcase and slid a stack of stapled papers to Rachel and motioned for her to take one set and pass the rest along.

“Jimsonweed?” Pete asked from the back of the room.

“Specifically, Datura stramonium . Commonly known as jimsonweed. It grows in warm, dry climates, particularly areas that are wet during the winter but completely dry in the summer. There are several areas in the valley where it can be found. It’s easily recognizable, and too often teenagers use it to get high since, in small doses, it causes hallucinogenic effects.”

“So it was an accident?” Rachel asked. “They were trying to get high?” She frowned.

“They left a suicide note,” Pete pointed out.

Nora said, “Even in a fraction of the amount they consumed, they wouldn’t have survived. The boys had twice the level as Anya, which is why she held on a bit longer. But even if she’d been found immediately, chances of survival were next to none. The poison is deadly and paralyzing, which was why they couldn’t leave the room for help.”

Pete said, “Why would they kill themselves with a drug that was going to cause such a violent reaction?”

“Good question,” Nora said.

Rachel was reading from the coroner’s notes. “The iced tea they drank was brewed with jimsonweed leaves? That’s insane. What’s this about orange peels?”

“The iced tea was essentially liquid poison,” Nora explained. “It was heavily sweetened with liquid sugar and orange peels to disguise the bitter taste.”

“Disguise? Because they didn’t want to taste it or because they didn’t know?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Nora said.

“You’re thinking this might be murder?” Pete asked.

“Murder or murder-suicide,” Nora said. “I spoke with two witnesses yesterday relating to Anya Ballard’s demeanor in the hours leading up to her death.”

The conference room door opened. Entering was Agent Steve Donovan from Violent Crimes, who doubled as the ERT team leader. Donovan nodded to Nora and sat down next to Pete.

“Both witnesses who saw Anya within hours of her death,” she continued, “said that Anya was upset, but had made plans with them for that week. Highly unusual for someone contemplating suicide. We also learned that Anya had a roommate last year who may have been involved with the arsons. Maggie O’Dell. Rachel? What did you find on her?”

“No California driver’s license. I called the college and they won’t release her records without a warrant. I called the U.S. attorney’s office with the information and they’re supposed to get back to me.”

“Follow up in an hour if you don’t hear from them. Our probable cause is that she’s wanted as a person of interest in the ongoing domestic terrorism arson investigation. We need that information today.” Nora had another thought. “Hey, go down to Rose College and look through the yearbooks in the library, see if we can get a picture. Check the school newspapers as well. If that fails, ask around the dorm and see if anyone has a picture of her. Picture, address, any information about where she might be.”

“I can go now, unless you need me here.” Rachel gathered her papers.

“Great, go now. Finding O’Dell is a priority. And when you get a picture, send it to Sara Ralston in the Reno office. She’ll know what to do with it. Oh, and on your way out ask Jason to surf the Internet and look for any Rose College websites with captioned photos, if the three dead students had blogs or websites, anything that might yield information about Maggie O’Dell.”

Rachel left and Pete said, “Is she a suspect?”

“I’d say a person of interest,” Nora said. “At present, we have no physical evidence that Maggie O’Dell was involved with the arsons, or that she was involved with the poisoning, or that she is even in town. One witness implied Maggie was involved, but had no personal knowledge of her involvement. So I want to talk to her.”

She turned to Steve Donovan. “Steve? You have an evidence report?”

“I sent you an email with the findings for your records. The blood at Payne’s Lake Tahoe house is Payne’s. We confirmed that he was in Lake Tahoe Saturday afternoon. A neighbor saw him walking outside about four o’clock. Payne waved to him, they chatted for a few minutes. The neighbor is a full-time resident, knew Payne casually. He said Payne seemed like he always did, happy but preoccupied. The neighbor invited him for dinner, which Payne declined. Apparently there’s nothing unusual about that, either. He usually declines.”

“You checked with other neighbors?”

“It’s very secluded in his little area. Can’t see any other houses from Payne’s house, there’re lots of trees. It’s not one of the places with a grand lake view. You can only see the lake if you crane your neck on the far corner of the deck. But it’s nice and private.”

Private enough that you can be murdered and no one will hear , Nora thought. She was about to ask another question when Steve added, “The neighbor gave me the contact information for the house closest to Payne, which is owned by a San Francisco couple. They were up for the weekend and left Sunday night. I spoke to the husband who said he saw a dark-colored truck he didn’t recognize parked in Payne’s carport, next to his Jeep. He didn’t think much of it, except that he hadn’t noticed it on Saturday when he walked past the property.”

“He didn’t by chance get a license plate?”

Donovan shook his head. “But Scott Edwards has a 2003 dark blue Ford F-150 registered in his name. It has a camper shell.”

“Bingo,” Nora said. “You could have woken me with that information.”

“I talked to the witness ten minutes before I walked in here.”

“Where’s the truck?”

“I contacted the sheriff’s department and they don’t have it. I sent a tow truck and an agent to the college to impound it. Anya Ballard has a Volkswagen Beetle, one of those new trendy ones, and that’s next up on the tow list. The other dead student didn’t have a car registered to him. We’re looking into two vehicles that are registered to his parents to see if he regularly used one.”

“Great job. Let me know what you find and put out a BOLO on all vehicles. We don’t know whether Maggie O’Dell had access to them, and since she has no car registered in her name she may have taken one of theirs. Keep in mind that they transported ducks late Sunday night, that could tie them to the crime scene.”