David Baldacci - The Sixth Man

Michelle pounced. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe a human head or two in the jellybean bowl on his desk. Subtle things like that, you freaking moron.”

A minute later they were being escorted out of the building by a security guard who looked about as tough as the accountants in the building. When he reached out to put a hand on Michelle’s back to urge her along, she snarled, “Touch me and die.”

The man jerked his hand back so fast he winced, as though he’d pulled a muscle.

Outside Sean sighed. “I love your interrogation approach, Michelle. So subtle, so sophisticated.”

“Almost makes you want to be wearing a badge again,” said Michelle. “That way they can’t kick you out before you get your answers, even if you’re a smart-ass. And that idiot was going to tell us nothing useful.”

“You’re right. He was stonewalling. Must be a good reason.”

“And Roy was most definitely not working for the IRS when he was arrested. Otherwise the guy would have just told us so. He’s hiding something. He tells us a lie, it comes back to bite him. He tells us nothing, nothing sticks to him later.”

They were about to get in Michelle’s SUV when the woman approached.

She was timid looking, with straight light-blond hair and glasses that fronted pretty blue eyes.

“Excuse me?” she said cautiously.

They turned to look at her.

“I understand you were here asking questions about Edgar?”

Sean said, “Did you know him?”

“We worked in the same cubicle zone. I’m Judy, Judy Stevens.”

“We were asking questions, although answers from your boss were hard to come by.”

“Mr. Russell doesn’t like to say anything that might come back to, you know…”

“Bite him in the ass?” suggested Michelle.

A smile crept to Judy’s face and her cheeks reddened slightly. “Yes.”

“But you don’t have that issue?” Sean asked.

“I just want the truth to come out.”

“And what do you think is the truth?”

“All I know is Edgar stopped working here over seven months before this nightmare happened. Before that he was here for eight years.”

“Where did he go?”

“Nobody really knows. He just didn’t come to work one day. I asked Mr. Russell but he told me it was none of my business.”

“Okay. Did you hear from Edgar?”

Judy lowered her gaze. “Edgar and I were friends. He… he was a nice person. Just very shy.”

“So did you hear from him?” Sean asked her again.

“He called me one night. Just out of the blue. I asked him what was going on, why he was no longer coming to work. He told me that he had another job, but he couldn’t say what it was.”

“Did he say why he couldn’t tell you?”

“Just that it was very sensitive. That was the word he used. Sensitive.”

“Did you hear from him again?”

“No. And from the way he was talking it seemed to me that his calling me was… was…”

“A risk on his part?” prompted Michelle.

Judy lifted her gaze. “Yes, exactly. A risk on his part.”

Michelle said, “Then he must really think a lot of you for him to take that chance.”

Judy’s face flushed with pleasure. “I thought a lot of him.”

Sean appraised her. “So you don’t think he killed all those people?”

“No. I knew Edgar. Well, I knew him as well as anyone did, I guess. He’s not a killer. He wouldn’t know how. It just wasn’t in his psyche. Even though he was so big, he was actually a very gentle man. If he accidentally stepped on a cricket it would make him sad.”

Sean handed her his card. “You think of anything, please contact us.”

She clutched the card. “Have you seen Edgar? I mean up in that… place?”

“We have.”

“How is he?”

“Not that good.”

“Could you tell him that Judy says hello? And that I believe in his innocence,” she added in a firm tone.

“I will.”

They climbed in Michelle’s SUV and started off.

She said, “Okay, Edgar’s got at least one person rooting for him.”

“Make that two. His half sister.”

“Right.”

“So he just stops coming to work one day. His IRS boss clams up. Nobody is told anything. And he takes a risk and calls his friend and tells her he has a new job and that it’s sensitive.”

She scowled. “And Murdock is counterterrorism. So it’s got to be national security, you know, spy stuff. And you know how much I hate spy stuff.”

“What, you mean the double and triple backstabbing and multiple agendas for every scenario?”

“More or less, yeah.”

“So if he’s wrapped up with the spies? Why?”

“Because of his mental prowess, probably.”

Sean shrugged. “I don’t know what else he has to offer other than his height. And I doubt the CIA or any of the other spy mills have a basketball team. So he’s in with the spies and then this happens. His new employer must be having a cow.”

“Accounts for all the guys with guns in black suits, satellites, and Bureau involvement.”

“I’d like to look at the medical examiner’s report.”

Michelle grimaced. “Let’s hope the locals are a bit more cooperative than that IRS clown. I’m expecting to get audited any day now.”

CHAPTER

30

TWO HOURS LATER Sean had a copy of the ME’s report and other forensic details.

“Let’s hope this gives us something to go on,” said Michelle.

“You’d think if there was some smoking gun in here the police would’ve already acted on it. This case has been going nowhere. And I don’t think it’s just because Edgar Roy is sitting in a federal nuthouse.”

“Strings are definitely being pulled,” replied Michelle. “This sucker is being executive-lagged big time.”

“Which goes to show the forces behind the scenes.”

“Yeah, scary forces.”

“Let’s grab something to eat and see if we find anything in this report.”

Over sandwiches and coffee Sean read the report and discussed parts of it with Michelle.

“No surprises. The bodies were in various states of decay. ME calculated that one of the bodies had been dead about a year. The others between four and six months.”

“That means he killed six times in less than a year.”

“We’ve seen serial killers more active than that. Besides, burial messes up the time of death some. Could be longer or shorter than that. If the bodies had been left aboveground at least we’d have fly larvae evidence. That’s pretty accurate. But even in the ground there are some helpful things. Bugs in the dirt too, I mean.”

Michelle put down her tuna sandwich. “Nice meal conversation. Really sparks the old appetite.”

He slid the report back in his briefcase and looked around the small restaurant. In a low tone he said, “Your two o’clock, guy in the sweatshirt and jean jacket trying real hard to look like a student. He’s—”

“I know. I scoped him about ten minutes ago. He’s got a pistol bump under his jacket and a bud in his left ear.”

“FBI?”

“One of the alphabets, most likely. But what do we do about it?”

“Don’t let on that we suspect.”

Michelle picked up her sandwich again. “That just brought my appetite back.”

“Well, this might just take it away again.”

She stopped with the tuna special halfway to her mouth.

Sean said, “Spotted something in the ME report that puzzled me.”

“I can hardly stand the anticipation.”

“What kind of dirt was in the barn on Roy’s property?”

“This is Virginia. So red clay. Why?”

“The findings indicated that each of the bodies showed evidence of dirt present that was different from that found in the barn.”