Chapter 27

RANDY PACED around his office, and his mind worked like in the old days when he was planning a trip into a hot zone for his protectee. His resources were limited, his lines of communication were little better than tin cans tied together with string, and he was acutely aware of the fact that he had no official role anymore. But Thomas was his friend. And despite Randy’s natural reticence, he genuinely liked Zachary too. If twenty-five years of training could help save that good kid, then Randy would do what he must and apologize later.

He jumped at his cell phone when it buzzed with the ringtone he had set for Lily. “What do ya know?” he growled into the phone.

“I talked to Detective Torres. She understands the situation and she’s combing through the file again for anything that might help. All searches for name combinations with Rumson, Scarborough, and Milliken had turned up nothing relevant. The only name that did hit checks out for a seventy-five-year-old man who’s lived in the same place for forty years. I have a call in to the Seattle PD myself in case Secret Service jogs something loose that they forgot to tell a DC detective. Any other ideas, RV?”

“The mother has to know he’s still alive. Can we do anything there?” Randy asked.

“Yes, she likely knows Charles is alive,” Lily said cautiously, “but we have nothing concrete yet. The Rumson family is too well connected in Washington State politics. If I make a call to her without going up the chain first, the shitstorm will wipe us all away.”

Randy had to agree. “Okay. Dead end for now. Even if she knew he survived the crash, it’s gonna take a lot of work to connect her to some murders two years later.”

Lily was quiet, and Randy recognized a peculiar quality in her silence. It was why they worked well together for years when she was his deputy. “Out with it, Lily. What are you thinking?”

“If Rumson is alive, then the suicide was faked. Right? So whose body did Mrs. Rumson identify?”

Randy felt the hair on his arms stand on end as he let the ramifications wash over him. “Brilliant, Lily. Run with that thought. How would you come up with another body?”

“You’d need someone unlikely to be missed,” Lily said slowly as she worked her way through the puzzle. “Homeless, maybe. But he’d have to have enough superficial similarities to Charles Rumson to make the initial identification plausible. Let me dig a bit, and I’ll call back.”

Just as Lily hung up, his office door opened, and Randy yelped as his bar back, Malcolm, stuck in his head. “Holy shit, Mal,” Randy gasped. “What the hell are you still doing here? I thought the place was empty.”

Malcolm laughed. “I guess I was taking out the trash when you looked. Sorry, boss. Do you need me to do anything else before I go?”

Randy leaned forward eagerly. “Mal, do you have a cell with you?”

“Sure, boss. Why?”

“I need to borrow it for the night. I know that’ll crimp your style, but it’s a matter of life and death. No shit.”

Malcolm pulled a cheap phone out of his back pocket and handed it over, his eyes wide. “Fuck, boss. What’s going on?”

“Not tonight. Thanks, Mal. I’ll get this back to you tomorrow,” Randy said. I hope. Using Malcolm’s phone, he immediately dialed and hoped she would pick up despite the strange number.

“Torres,” he heard over the line.

“Maria, it’s Randy at Mata Hari. I’m using a different phone I don’t think Rumson can know about.”

“Good. That agent friend of yours is hell on wheels.”

“She really is. Do you have anything new?”

“No. I’ve been through the case file twice, and I can’t find anything we missed.”

“Lily pointed out that if that wasn’t Rumson’s body on the slab two years ago, maybe the key is to find out who actually was pulled from his Porsche that day.”

“Hang on, that….” She went silent, but Randy could hear pages flipping on her desk.

Malcolm was still standing in the door, and Randy asked him, “You know where I keep the Magnum?”

Malcolm nodded.

“I need you to get it and bring it to me, but try to hide what you’re doing. I’ll explain later, but there’s a camera aimed at the bar. Can you be cool about this?”

“On it, boss,” Malcolm said and slipped away.

“Here it is.” Torres spoke in his ear, and Randy could hear excitement. “What you said reminded me of a note in the log. Before the body was officially ID’d, the processing officer noted that another officer had contacted him about a missing person case and wanted to bring the person who filed the complaint to the morgue. He wrote the word Ryder, but I can’t tell if that’s the second officer or the missing person. Our guy notes twenty minutes later that Rumson had been claimed, and he apparently either didn’t respond on the missing person case or failed to note it. That happens all the time, Randy, when there’s a John Doe brought in.”

“Anything there we can use to follow up on the missing person report—a case number?”

“I’m checking… Wait. It’s Agent Woods calling on my other line.”

“Maria, can you patch us all in together?”

“I’ll try, but I’m terrible at these tech things. Hang on. Okay. Randy? Agent Woods? We all on?”

“I’m here,” Randy said.

“I’m here, and call me Lily, please. I’ve got something. The same day Rumson crashed his car, Seattle PD recorded a report for a male escort who went missing. He was five foot nine, about one fifty, brown hair, and brown eyes.”

Torres said, “Those stats match Rumson.”

“Right,” Lily continued. “The boyfriend said this guy had gone out on a call two days earlier and never returned or answered his phone. The case file still indicates the missing person is open. Since he was a prostitute, you can guess how much police resources were designated to follow through.”

“What’s the escort’s name?” Randy asked, knowing already that was the lead they needed.

“Sam Ryder. R-Y-D-E-R. I’m checking now to see if that name turns up in DC.”

Torres jumped in. “I’ll check too.” Randy could hear both women quickly typing into computers, and he cursed his uselessness.

Malcolm returned to Randy’s office and pulled the holstered .357 Magnum out of his waistband, where he had concealed it behind his bar apron. Randy took it carefully until he was sure Malcolm hadn’t released the safety. “Thanks, Mal.”

“It’s all good, boss,” Malcolm said with a grin. “What else can I do?”

“Go home. Really. I’ll explain this tomorrow.” Randy confirmed the gun was loaded and grabbed additional bullets from his office cabinet.

“Got something,” Lily crowed in his ear, and Torres muttered a curse. “Sam Ryder, Newseum Residences, phone activated three months ago. It’s a top-floor unit, and that’s a swank building.” She read off an address and unit number.

“Maria, how do you want to play this?” Randy asked and gritted his teeth as he typed Newseum Residences into his computer’s search engine. His instinct was to take over, but he had no official status.

“No time to get a warrant, but I’ve got probable cause. If we’re right and Rumson hears sirens, he could panic and kill Hall. I’ll get backup, no red and blues, and try to surprise him.”

“I’m coming too,” Randy said as he sent an image to the printer. “I know what I’m doing. Twenty-five years of experience, and I’m still in excellent shape. I won’t interfere, but you may need more help than you can get together this time of night.”

“Okay. I don’t have time to fight you. Meet me at the Newseum and we’ll coordinate there.”

Randy grabbed his printout and ran through the door with Malcolm’s cell phone to his ear as he headed for his pickup truck. “I’m going to try Thomas to see if he’s heard anything further from Rumson.”

Lily said, “I’ll keep working the Ryder angle and see if there are any other missing-person files worth checking in case this one doesn’t pan out.”

Torres muttered, “I’ll be at the Newseum in ten, Randy,” and disconnected.

Randy dialed Thomas’s cell from his own, and it rang three times. Then four. Then five before voice mail picked up. Randy frowned as he started his truck and peeled out of the parking lot toward the Capitol. He tried again. Same thing. Call went to voice mail. He knew Thomas wouldn’t have left his phone sitting somewhere else or ignored that many calls during a crisis. That led him to one conclusion.

Rumson had already gotten to Thomas.