Jules heard the excitement in her sister’s voice. Shana and Jace had made the decision to build a home on Sutton Hills, the Granger estates. Sutton Hills encompassed over two hundred acres near the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. A thirty-minute ride from Charlottesville, the area consisted of the most beautiful land anywhere.
Each of the three Granger sons had inherited ten acres. Caden and Shiloh were thinking about building a home on the Granger estates at the end of the year. However, Jules and Dalton weren’t in a hurry. They enjoyed living in their condo in town, which was close to restaurants, nightclubs and a number of other hot spots they frequented. “Dalton and I would love to come to dinner. Do you need us to bring anything? I’m still at the office and can make a pit stop if you need me to.”
“You’re still at the office? Then you’ll probably be delayed because of the explosion. A lot of the streets are closed, which means there’s a lot of traffic in town.”
Jules raised a brow. “What explosion?” She noticed her words got Dalton’s attention, so she put her sister on speakerphone.
“It seems that an FBI agent’s car was rigged to blow up the moment he started the ignition,” Shana said. “And I heard he was someone working the Erickson case.”
“Was he in the courtroom that day?”
“No. And that has people wondering why he was murdered.”
Already Dalton had crossed the room to turn on the television to the news channel. “Okay, Shana, Dalton just put on the news. Let me see what’s up.”
“Dalton is there with you?”
“Yes, he’s here.”
“Hmm. Interesting,” Shana said. “Jace mentioned he never returned to work after lunch. Now I know why.”
Dalton gave Jules one of those I-don’t-care-who-knows-I-enjoy-fucking-my-wife kind of smiles. “Whatever. Dalton and I will see everyone later.”
Jules crossed the room to stand beside Dalton and watched the newsbreak.
“This is Connie Moore reporting live near the FBI building in downtown Charlottesville. If you’re just tuning in, we are reporting the car bombing of an FBI agent. The victim has been identified as Special Agent Percy Weaver. It is believed that Agent Weaver’s death was the work of the same assassin who has been targeting those involved with the Murphy Erickson trial. Agent Weaver was working on the Erickson case, but law enforcement is wondering why Weaver was targeted when he was not in the courtroom the day the jury reached a verdict.”
The hairs on the back of Jules’s neck stood up. Percy Weaver. Where did she know that name from? She frowned, trying to remember.
“Hey, baby, you okay?” Dalton asked her, reaching out and caressing her bunched brow.
“I know that name, Dalton. Percy Weaver. Or I’ve seen it somewhere. Recently.” She slowly turned and stared at the package on her desk. The one that had been delivered that day. “That’s it! He sent me a package.”
“Who?”
“Percy Weaver,” she said, quickly moving toward her desk to pick up the package. She looked over at Dalton. “Yes, that’s it. This package is from a Percy Weaver.”
Dalton crossed the room to her. “Do you think it’s the same person?”
“I’m not sure, but there’s only one way to find out,” she said, tearing open the package. Inside was a letter addressed to her that was taped to another smaller package. She opened the letter and read it out loud.
Ms. Sweet, I read about you in the newspapers and admired the way you handled the Sheppard Granger investigation. I am sending this package to you with instructions not to open it...unless you know for certain that something has happened to me. I am a special agent for the FBI and if I am killed, make sure you take care of this and get it to the right people. Be careful who you trust in the Bureau and in the police department.
I am also enclosing a sealed envelope containing a letter to my wife, Leigh. Please make sure she gets it. Thanks. PW
Jules handed the letter to Dalton, who quickly read it. “He’s right, Jules. You need to be careful who you trust.”
Jules nodded. She was a former police detective and knew that not everyone in law enforcement was honest. She wondered what category Percy Weaver fell into. More than anything, she wanted to know what was on the disk he’d sent her.
“I’ll call Marcel.” FBI Agent Marcel Eaton was a family friend who’d worked with Jules’s father, Ben Bradford, when Marcel and Ben had been police officers in Boston. And more recently, Marcel had been the FBI agent who’d worked on the case that had resulted in Sheppard Granger’s exoneration.
Dalton nodded. “Contacting Marcel is a good idea.”
*
LEONARD SMALL WATCHED the news program and sweat broke out on his forehead. He should have seen it coming, should have known Erickson couldn’t be trusted. First Alyson Blackshear and now Percy Weaver. He hadn’t known either Blackshear or Weaver personally and definitely hadn’t known that, like him, they’d been on Erickson’s payroll. Erickson took great pains to make sure none of his informers were aware of each other.
Now Blackshear and Weaver were dead and rumors were going around that they’d been Erickson’s informers, killed by that damn assassin. If that was true, why? Was Erickson now turning on those who’d assisted him in pulling off the hits he’d ordered? Small admitted he’d been paid well, but what good was money when you were dead?
Speaking of the dead, Small knew of one man who would be glad if something happened to him, and that was Jerry Franklin, who worked in the technology development department of the FBI. With Small dead, Franklin wouldn’t get blackmailed into sharing all his high-tech creations anymore. Like the one used at the courthouse that day.
Small stood and walked to the door. He had a plan. If he was targeted, then he would make sure he wouldn’t be the only one going to the grave.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
JULES GLANCED AROUND her office. After listening to the tape that Percy Weaver had sent, Jules had contacted Marcel, who had contacted Special Agent Felton and police chief Harkins, in turn. Harkins arrived with Detective Joy Ingram and another woman, Dr. Randi Fuller, who was a psychic investigator assisting on the Erickson case. From what Marcel had told Jules and Dalton, Dr. Fuller had fingered Officer Alyson Blackshear and had also said there were two others working on the wrong side of the law with Erickson.
Special Agent Percy Weaver had been one of them, and he’d confessed as much on the tape. He’d also named the third person involved, Leonard Small, who was a US marshal assigned to the courthouse where Erickson’s trial had been held. According to Weaver, Leonard Small wasn’t aware Weaver had known about him. But for security measures, Weaver had made it his business to know who else might have been working on the wrong side of the law. Small was the only person whose identity Weaver had managed to obtain. He did not know anything about the assassin or Officer Blackshear’s role.
After listening to the tape with the others, Agent Felton had ordered that US Marshal Small be picked up immediately and taken to FBI Headquarters for questioning.
On the tape Weaver had also stated how the assassin was tracking who’d been in the courtroom that day. Security had been stepped up due to the high-profile nature of the case, and additional screening procedures had been implemented. In addition to the standard metal detectors and X-rays, everyone’s hands were swabbed for traces of explosives.
“So, let me make sure I understand all of this,” Jules said, addressing everyone in her office. “They were actually using the swab to apply noninvasive, long-lasting tracking matter onto the person’s skin, specifically, the back of their hands?”
“Yes,” Marcel said, nodding his head. “It’s been rumored such a substance was in development at our headquarters in DC. If that’s true, I want to know how US Marshal Small got his hands on it.”