38
CAU
HOOVER BUILDING
WASHINGTON, D.C.
WEDNESDAY MORNING
Sherlock studied the passport photo of a pretty young woman with hair, same color as her eyes, as dark as night hanging loose around her sharp-featured, intelligent face. Brenda Love was twenty-eight and Kara Moody’s other best friend, currently on vacation in Spain. Sherlock had called and introduced herself, told her Kara’s baby had been born, then kidnapped out of the hospital, and asked if she could answer questions.
Brenda Love fell silent. Sherlock heard only street noise in the background, alas, no flamenco music. Love said finally, “How do I know you are who you say you are?”
“I can have Kara call your cell and vouch for me. How’s that?”
Brenda Love agreed. Sherlock had to admit it was exactly what she would have done. She didn’t have to wait long before she was back on her cell with Ms. Love, who told her she was at a sidewalk café across from the Prado Museum drinking a latte. Sherlock envied her. She and Dillon had managed to walk all over the Prado two years before, taking in the power of Goya’s paintings with three-year-old Sean in tow. Sherlock said, “I’m going to email you a photo of a young man. Tell me if you’ve ever seen him before.”
In a moment, Love said, “Got it. He’s good-looking, maybe a bit younger than Kara, younger than me. No, I’ve never seen him before. Why? You think he kidnapped Kara’s baby?”
Sherlock cast her rod into the water. “No, that wouldn’t be possible, he’s currently lying in a coma in the hospital. He’s also the baby’s father.”
Stark silence. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Kara didn’t say anything to me about him.” She sighed. “In fact, she said she couldn’t talk to me, could only confirm you were FBI and she was working with you and it was okay to speak to you.”
Sherlock said, “When we’re done here, feel free to speak to her again, Ms. Love. She needs a good friend right now. The first time Kara ever saw this man was on Sunday, but we’ll get to that later. Ms. Love, do you know Sylvie Vaughn?”
“Well, yes, of course.”
“Do you know many of Sylvie and Josh Vaughn’s friends?”
“Wait a minute, did you show Sylvie his photo? Does she know him?”
Sherlock said, “Yes, I showed Mrs. Vaughn his photo, and she said she’d never seen him before. I understand you weren’t at Mr. Vaughn’s birthday party nine months ago?”
Love gave a rude snort. “I remember that party. I wasn’t about to go, and I remember I told Kara she shouldn’t, either, but she said Sylvie begged her to come so she’d have her own special friend there to support her. Support her, ha! Besides, Josh is a pig. You couldn’t pay me to get near him.”
Sherlock cast a wider net. “Sounds like you don’t much care for Sylvie Vaughn. Or the pig.”
“The pig is a pig and doesn’t try to hide it, but Sylvie’s a phony who lucked into a very lucrative business. Look, Agent Sherlock, I’m not bad-mouthing her for the fun of it. I heard her YouTube phenom—Cycling Madness—was all another woman’s idea, even that cool title, and Sylvie stole it. And no, she can’t prove it, nothing was written down. And yes, that woman is a friend of mine, and that’s why she told me about it.” Sherlock heard a sigh. “I believe her because it fits Sylvie more than not. She’s never been at all pleasant to me.”
“Does Kara know how you feel?”
There was a slight pause. “Well, no, I never thought it was right to lay that crap on Kara, even after my friend told me what she’d done. I wanted Kara to be free to make her own choices, not to have to pick between us. The thing is, Kara’s so wholesome, you know what I mean? She’s serious and always wants to see the good in people, and, well, she’s very nice. I knew it would hurt her. And Sylvie treated her well, so I left it alone.”
Sherlock said slowly, feeling her way, “It seems Kara and Sylvie met by chance at the gallery where Kara worked in Baltimore, that they hit it off right away?”
Love snorted. “Yeah, that’s what Kara told me, and I bought the kismet deal until maybe a month or so after the birthday party, I overheard Sylvie tell one of her satellite friends—you know, one of her social media buddies—that she’d asked this no-style prude who sold her paintings in a third-rate gallery to be on her YouTube fashion show, but she’d turned her down. She laughed, said she’d been relieved. What would you think of a friend who said that?”
Not much. “You didn’t tell Kara what you’d overheard?”
“I probably should have, I mean, this was out of Sylvie’s mouth, so it wasn’t gossip. I’d almost worked myself up to tell her when out of the blue Kara told me she was pregnant. That sidetracked me, to say the least. I asked her who the father was, but she only shook her head, begged me to leave it alone. I wasn’t about to pile on by telling her what a two-faced bitch Sylvie was. And when she made up her mind to leave Baltimore, I couldn’t see the point, it would only add more misery to her situation. Whatever Sylvie was about, you know, being nice to Kara’s face, but talking about her behind her back, she’d be out of Kara’s life.”
Sherlock said, “This is where I need your help, Ms. Love. Kara was drugged at the party. The father is a man she never saw before, a man who doesn’t seem to have been there. Sylvie Vaughn said she didn’t know him, and you don’t know him, either. Kara never said anything to you about it?”
A moment of silence as Brenda Love took it all in. “No, I spoke to her a couple of days later, at lunch. I remember asking her about the party and was really surprised when she told me she must have drank too much and blacked out. Let me be perfectly clear here, Agent Sherlock. I have never seen Kara drunk. And enough booze to black out? She told me she couldn’t remember anything. I should have followed up, but I didn’t. I was breaking up with my boyfriend, and all into myself. I’m an idiot.”
Sherlock cut that off. “Hindsight is always an amazing thing, so don’t beat yourself up. Tell me, was there anyone else you remember in Kara’s life around that time? Before the party?”
“Not really. She didn’t have a steady boyfriend. She occasionally went out, but nothing serious. She led a quiet life. She was really into her painting, of course, and she’s good. Have you seen her landscapes? They’re like stepping into a dream, the colors all wreathed in a misty light.”
“I haven’t had a chance yet to see her work, but I will. Ms. Love, I need you to think back. Can you remember anything unusual that happened to Kara before the party? Any men she might have met, any offer of drugs she told you about?”
A pause, then, “No, I really can’t, Agent Sherlock.”
“Okay, how about anything that needed medical care, that required she take drugs?”
“No, sorry. Wait, I do remember that a few weeks before the party Kara showed up to lunch with a huge, ugly bruise on her arm. She told me she’d gotten a call from a local university, I don’t remember which one, asking her to give them a sample of her blood for a study they were doing. They paid her for it, a one-time blood draw; that was it. Obviously whoever drew her blood messed up. Does that mean anything?”
“It’s possible. I’ll ask Kara about it.”
“I’m flying home tomorrow, Agent Sherlock. I don’t have to be back to work until next week. Do you think I could come down to Washington and be with Kara? I haven’t seen her in a couple of months. Do you think it would help?”
“Yes,” Sherlock said, “I think it would, but call Kara, see what she thinks.” Sherlock left Brenda Love to her latte.
She called Agent Butler, filled her in.
When she’d finished, Butler said, “This depresses me, Sherlock. I thought Vaughn was funny, straightforward. Maybe Brenda Love was jealous, made it up, maybe exaggerated?”
“No, I don’t think so. But the fact is, Connie, even though I was suspicious of her, I liked Vaughn, too.”
“But still you put that GPS tracker on her car.”
“Yes.” Sherlock added, “A couple of weeks ago I interviewed a talented up-and-coming sculptor, and I really liked her, too, believed her.”
“It turned out she wasn’t what she seemed?”
“No, not at all what she seemed. I made a vow I’d always err on the side of caution after that.”
“Bolt—Agent Haller—was sure Alex Moody was taken for ransom until he heard John Doe was the baby’s father, and someone tried to murder him last night. He’s coming around to the idea that unlike most of our kidnapping cases, this one isn’t about money, or custody, it’s about something else entirely. None of us on the CARD team has ever dealt with anything so crazy convoluted as this.”
Sherlock paused a moment. “Connie, this is my gut talking, but not entirely. Somehow I can’t help but feel Kara could also be in danger. It’s possible the hospital will try to discharge her soon. If they do, maybe the person or people behind the kidnapping will make some kind of contact with her. I’m not sure, but I’d feel better if Agent Haller stays with her at her house. Brenda Love could stay with her, too.”
“Sounds right to me. Bolt and I will discuss it with our supervisor, see what he thinks, and we’ll get back to you.”
“Where has Sylvie Vaughn been since we left her yesterday?”
“Pretty regular stuff, nothing strange—the grocery store, a small studio on Cline Street where she films her YouTube show Cycling Madness, her yoga class at Bay Watch Fitness Center, and last, she met her husband for dinner at Papa Leoni’s in the Inner Harbor.”
“Nothing suspicious in the Vaughns’ financial records so far, or their phone records. Not as useful now that anyone can buy a burner phone to use. We’ll both keep checking, okay?”
Sherlock got up from her desk to update Dillon, saw through the big glass window that he was working on MAX, probably researching the mystery drug Dr. Wordsworth said they found in John Doe’s blood, seeing what MAX could find in one of the compound libraries.
She knew Kara’s number by heart and punched it in. She caught Kara sitting with John Doe, talking to him again, Kara told her.
“Has Brenda called you back, Kara?”
“Yes. She’s changed her flight to Dulles. I want to see her, but I’m a mess. I hope she’ll understand.”
“She will. She’s very upset about the whole thing. Keep her close, Kara. Can you tell me about the big bruise Brenda said you had on your arm a few weeks before you got pregnant? You gave some blood for a study of some kind?”
“She remembered that? Yes, a woman called me from the University of Maryland, told me their genetics department was conducting a study in population genetics, something about how various athletes are distributed in different ethnic groups around the country. I was picked at random and offered two hundred dollars to give a sample of my blood. It was only for one time, and so I agreed. I swear, though, it was the first time the guy had ever drawn blood. It was brutal. I ended up with a big bruise for a week. Why?”
“Filling in blanks, that’s all. Kara, can you describe the man who drew your blood?”
“Goodness, why, for heaven’s sake?”
“Indulge me.”
“Well, I remember he was a big guy, in his thirties, and as I said, he wasn’t good at it. He suggested he come by the gallery where I worked at quitting time and if I liked, he could draw my blood there. I agreed, seemed easier than going to a lab somewhere. He introduced himself, but I don’t remember his name. He gave me two one-hundred-dollar bills and left. And that was it, I never heard another word from anyone at the university.”
“Do you think you could give an artist a good description of the man?”
“Yes, but why not let me draw him?”
“Excellent. Kara, stay strong. How are you feeling?”
“Still trying to come to grips with the fact that the man whose hand I’m holding right this moment, this stranger I’m telling my life story to, is Alex’s father. I asked Dr. Wordsworth if she believed he could hear me. She said she spoke nonstop to her own mother when she was still unconscious after surgery and when her mother woke up, she smiled and remarked on what a talker she was.” Kara laughed. “Dr. Wordsworth also says he’s still getting better and to keep talking; he’ll be waking up soon. It’s all so crazy, isn’t it?”
Sherlock said, “It’s only crazy until it makes sense.” She decided she wouldn’t tell Kara about Sylvie Vaughn, either, not yet. It wouldn’t serve any purpose. Brenda Love would be there the next day, someone Kara was close to, to help keep her spirits up, maybe help her sort through all of this.