Elisabeth Rees - Safe House Under Fire

“You can’t stop me calling whoever I like,” Astrid challenged. “I’m not in jail.”

“No, you’re not in jail,” David said slowly, reminded of the arguments he used to have with Chloe, the big bust-ups that would result in her storming from the house and spending the evening with her totally unsuitable boyfriend. “But I need you to listen to me and do what I say.”

“Who put you in charge of me?” the teenager said, sliding her eyes from David’s to her mother’s, correctly identifying the weakest link in this scenario. “Mom, can I call Noah?” Her bottom lip wobbled, and she rubbed one eye like a tired toddler. “I just want to tell him I’m all right.”

Lilly nodded. “Sure, but don’t give him any details about what happened today. Tell him you’re not in school because you’re sick. Okay?”

Astrid glared at David with a hint of triumph before strutting from the room, and his hackles rose. Disobedience was something he could no longer abide in young adults. As a widowed single dad raising two girls, he’d made the mistake of believing that you could reason with teenagers, that you could give them some freedom and be prepared to compromise. But that was before Chloe ended up in a car wreck with her drunk boyfriend and suffered irreversible brain damage as a result. Prior to the accident, she had gone off the rails, become totally unmanageable, and David blamed himself for her downfall. If only he had set stronger rules when she was younger. If only he’d come down harder. And now Lilly Olsen was making the same mistake.

“Teenagers need a firm hand, ma’am,” he said. “Trust me, I know. You shouldn’t let your daughter get away with manipulating you.”

Lilly’s brows crinkled beneath her sleek blond fringe. “Manipulating me? Is that what you think she’s doing?”

“Yes, I do. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

She held up a palm. “Excuse me, Agent... What was your name again?”

“Agent McQueen, but you can call me David.”

“Okay, David,” she said with a false smile. “You literally just met me, and you know nothing about me, or my daughter, so can I suggest that you mind your own business and focus on the man who just tried to kill me.”

David rubbed a hand down his face as Lilly’s clear blue eyes bored into his. With her arms crossed and her head slightly tilted, her previously soft features now took on a harder tinge. Her criticism was undoubtedly fair. He had lost concentration, thinking back to times when his own daughter had emotionally manipulated him, just like Astrid had with her mom. At that moment, there was a bigger issue to tackle.

“I apologize,” he said, sitting on the couch. “You’re right. Let’s get to work.” He pulled a photograph from a file that he had placed on the coffee table. “Was this the man who attacked you?”

She responded instantly. “Yes, his name is François Berger. He’s a wealthy art collector, originally from France but living in Pittsburgh for the last twenty-five years. I’ve been speaking regularly with him on the phone for the past couple weeks and he finally came into the bank yesterday to transfer his money to a European account. He’s moving back to Paris next week.” She touched the photo. “He seemed so nice when I spoke with him. Why would he try to kill me?”

David placed the photo back into the file. “His real name is Gilbert Henderson and he’s a con man, born and raised right here in Pennsylvania.”

“No, that’s not possible. This guy has a French accent.”

“It’s fake. Everything about Gilbert Henderson is fake. We’ve been trying to catch him for more than ten years, but I gotta give him respect where respect is due. He’s cunning, he’s smart and he’s always one step ahead of us.”

“So where is the real François Berger?”

“Dead.”

Lilly gasped. “How?”

“We found him in his chest freezer, probably been there a while. We’re doing an autopsy to establish the cause of death, but it looks like a bullet to the head.”

Lilly clearly struggled to make sense of this. “But... What... Why?”

“Gilbert Henderson targets wealthy individuals with little or no family,” he explained. “He chooses somebody with the same age and characteristics as himself. He then murders them and assumes their identity, before setting out to empty their bank accounts and strip their assets. He does this so quickly and professionally that by the time we’re alerted to the crime, he’s long gone. And so is the money.”

“But I transferred Mr. Berger’s money to a legitimate bank in France. They’ll have procedures to deal with fraud so you can recover it.”

David smiled at her naïveté. “Once the money reached the French account, it was moved again and again via very complex channels. It’s now been funneled into countries where we have no financial jurisdiction.”

“Everything was in order,” she said, her eyes scanning the carpet, perhaps wondering how she could have prevented this crime. “He gave me all the right identification documents and said all the right things. I didn’t suspect a thing.”

“Don’t blame yourself. This is probably the fifth time Henderson has gotten away with this type of fraud. We almost caught him this time when a cleaner reported finding Mr. Berger’s body in the freezer yesterday and we suspected Henderson was the culprit. But we were just a few hours too late. The apartment has been stripped of the expensive artwork and all of Mr. Berger’s accounts are empty.”

“If you know this guy’s identity, why not just arrest him?”

“We have no evidence to arrest him.”

“What? You must have evidence?”

“ You are the only evidence we have.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Henderson is careful to avoid security cameras, he doesn’t leave a trace of himself behind and he leaves no witnesses.” David realized that he needed to correct his words. “Actually, that’s not true. He can’t avoid creating one witness per crime, and that’s the bank clerk who performs the money transfers. He deliberately chooses banks where the staff won’t have met his victim and he’ll then interact with just one person during the entire transaction.”

“I thought it was a little strange that he didn’t go to our bigger branch in Pittsburgh,” Lilly said. “But he said he was spending some time with friends in Oakmont and preferred the friendly service of our small-town office.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I was actually flattered by the compliment.”

“Con men are usually incredibly charming. It’s why they’re so good at manipulating people.”

Lilly was obviously beginning to understand the gravity of her situation. “You’re saying I’m the only person who saw his face while he committed this crime?”

“Correct.”

“What about the documents he gave me? I took copies of his passport and driver’s license as part of the background checks.”

“Those documents belong to the real Mr. Berger, so they’re no use to us.”

Lilly was wide-eyed and unbelieving. “Really? I checked them thoroughly and the photographs matched the person.”

“Henderson only ever selects victims who already bear a strong resemblance to him, and he’ll change his hair, wear contacts and false teeth if necessary. None of the bank clerks have spotted the lie so far.”

“What happened to them?” she asked, her voice suddenly shaky. “To the other clerks who were duped like me?”

David glanced at Goldie, reluctant to answer truthfully. He didn’t want to scare Lilly even more than she was already and, sensing his hesitancy, Goldie stepped into the silence, speaking softly and with concern.

“The other four clerks were all found dead the day after the crimes. We weren’t able to save them in time, but we can help you now. We won’t allow any harm to come to you. With your witness testimony, we have enough evidence to finally issue a warrant for the arrest of Gilbert Henderson. We just need to find him first.”