Allison Brennan - Sudden Death

Ned Stenberg was Megan’s height with a comb-over and kind brown eyes behind wire-rim glasses. She wasn’t surprised when he told her he was a medical lab technician at the local university-he looked the part. His wife, Jennifer, was an elementary school teacher, plump and pretty. As soon as Megan and Officer Dodge arrived, Jennifer sent their three kids upstairs.

“When Detective Holden said he was sending an officer over,” Ned Stenberg began, “I didn’t expect the FBI as well.”

“Can I get you water? Coffee?” Jennifer asked.

Megan shook her head. “We can’t stay long. We get a lot of tips when we send out a media story, but yours sounded valid. A personal visit is sometimes the best way to get information without distractions that can occur over the phone.”

Jennifer led them to the living room, which was off the main entry, a tidy room obviously unused by the family.

“Would you mind repeating your story?” Megan asked the Stenbergs.

“Not at all,” Ned said. “I planned on calling the police right after the incident, but-”

Jennifer said, “It didn’t seem as important once they left.”

“From the beginning,” Megan said. “Please.”

Ned began. “We were driving back from Phoenix where my brother lives. It’s my spring break and we go there nearly every year for Easter and a few days. We left early Thursday morning and about an hour or so into the drive, this maniac in a truck almost kills us.”

“Kills you? How? Did he exhibit road rage? Have a gun?”

“Almost ran us off the road. Had to be going a hundred twenty.”

“Scared all of us,” Jennifer concurred.

“Did you get his license plate?”

“Not then,” Ned said. “He was going way too fast. We continued, but were all a little stressed. We usually eat brunch when we hit the Los Angeles area, but decided to stop earlier for a while and have breakfast instead. I pulled into the diner and saw the truck.”

Jennifer said, “We told the kids to stay in the van and keep the doors locked.”

“I was so angry,” Ned said. “That was my family he almost ran off the road.”

“I told him to let it go,” Jennifer said.

“But I couldn’t do that. Instead, I went in just as the driver was leaving.”

“How did you recognize him if he went by so fast?” Megan asked.

Ned frowned. “I’m not really sure. It was more an impression. He was really tall and looked tall driving. Had dark hair. And after I said something, it was obviously him. He didn’t say hardly anything, but he knew.”

“And what type of truck was he driving?”

“A black or maybe a very dark charcoal gray Ford pickup.”

“Make?”

“I’m not sure. A 150 or 250, I think. I’m not great with cars,” Ned confessed.

“Immediately his wife came over,” Jennifer interjected.

“Wife?” This was new information.

“She said his name was John and called him her husband.”

“And?”

“She apologized profusely for his behavior and bad driving. Said they’d driven through the night from Houston on the way to see her mother who’d had a heart attack.” Jennifer slowly shook her head.

“You don’t seem sympathetic,” Megan said.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me, but if my mother had a heart attack, I wouldn’t be dying my hair to go to her bedside.”

“How do you know she dyed her hair?”

Jennifer ran a finger high on her forehead. “She didn’t rub all the dye off her scalp. I could see it.”

“What color hair? Or rather dye?”

“Blond. She had the skin tone to be a blond, but this was very light-almost like yours, but it looked unnatural. The giveaway was the dye on her forehead. You know.”

Megan shook her head. “I’ve never dyed my hair.”

“You haven’t? Oh. Well, sometimes the dye gets on your scalp and you need to rub it off. But it usually comes off after a shower or two. And then the smell, it’s very strong even after a washing. She’d probably done it the night before or first thing in the morning. But it just seemed odd to me because of her mother’s heart attack.”

“Did either of them say anything about his dangerous driving?”

“No, just an apology from her. I don’t think he said more than a word. Ned?”

Ned shook his head. “He just stared, like he wasn’t right in the head.” He tapped his own scalp.

Megan took out a photo sheet Holden had given her with Rosemont’s photo and five other men. “Do you recognize any of these men?”

Both Jennifer and Ned tapped the same photo: Rosemont’s.

“Can you describe the woman in more detail?” Megan asked.

“Pretty,” Jennifer said. “And she was weepy. Probably because her husband was causing a scene.”

“Even though he wasn’t saying anything?” Officer Dodge interjected.

“He was just standing there looking … dazed.”

“And the wife?”

“Taller than me, but not by much. Dyed blond hair, as I said. Blue eyes. Her hair was just below her shoulders, and her smile was nice-straight white teeth. She was wearing jeans and a plain black T-shirt, a little big on her.”

Ned added, “She had small diamond earrings on. Like the ones I gave you for our anniversary, Jen.”

“But no ring,” Jennifer said, turning her own wedding band around on her finger. “I know some women don’t wear wedding rings, but it’s rare. She could have taken it off when she dyed her hair, I suppose …”

Megan got them back on track. “Would you be able to sit down with a sketch artist and describe the woman?”

“Maybe,” Ned said. “Why?”

“I don’t know how much the officer told you.”

“The news report just said that if we’d seen that man, Rosemont, to call in, so we did.”

“Mr. Rosemont is dead and the woman is being sought for questioning.”

Jennifer blanched. “No. I … oh my God.”

Ned put his arm around his wife. “What happened? Car accident?”

“No. Rosemont is our main suspect in multiple homicides.”

Officer Dodge cleared her throat. “I’ll contact the sheriff’s department and see if they can send over a sketch artist.”

“Thanks, Barbara,” Megan said. To the couple, “Do you remember anything else about these two people? Accent? Distinguishing marks?”

Ned shook his head, but Jennifer said, “Yes. The woman said they were going to San Francisco and the husband said he thought they were going to Santa Barbara. It was really odd.”

Jack and Hans were waiting for a call back from Dillon when Detective Holden rushed in. “We got a match!”

Jack asked, “On what?”

“The bullets! An FBI agent from Orlando faxed over a ballistics report from a cold case down in Florida. He wrote that Agent Megan Elliott had requested it.”

“Russo,” Jack said. He couldn’t help but be proud at how quickly Megan had put together the case and expedited the information.

“Right. The gun that killed Russo also killed Rosemont and Hackett.”

“And,” Holden continued, “the Hoffmans. The Riverside County crime lab got a copy of the same report and contacted Dr. Clark.”

“What about the other victims?” Hans said. “Bartleton and Johnson and the other two men?”

“Not Bartleton,” Detective Holden said. “I don’t know about the others.”

Hans frowned. “Can you ask Dr. Clark to contact the other crime labs and get a ballistics comparison?”

“What are you thinking?” Jack asked.

“Why change guns? Are we looking at a completely different crime?” He rubbed his temples.

Jack realized that Hans was practically asleep on his feet. Whatever was bothering him had interrupted his sleep as well.