He grinned at her, feral and quick. “As do I, Anne. As do I. Just a few more questions, and then we’ll leave you to your frolic. Do you know anyone named Frederick McDonald?”
She started to say something, then stopped and watched Baldwin closely. “What do you know about Frederick McDonald?”
“He was one of the beneficiaries named in Doug Matcliff’s will. We believe the will was solely designed to lead us through this story to all the players. So far, we’ve identified each one—and they’re all either dead or close to it. Who is he?”
She leaned back in her seat, the soft old leather easing with a small squeak. “McDonald was a bagman for the Dixie Mafia. He got out, supposedly, though do they ever get out? He set himself up a nice little operation in Asheville, North Carolina, running moonshine out of the mountains, of all things. We turned him, and he was a very helpful informant over the years.”
“What did he inform about?”
“Dixie business. Drug running, mostly. Supply chains. He helped us wrap up several elaborate operations, and he was rewarded for his troubles with a clean slate. I’ve often wondered what happened to him. He seemed like an intelligent man, happy to have a chance to start his life over.”
“He’s dead now. Someone broke into his house and turned his head the wrong way around last night.”
She didn’t look terribly surprised. “That is a shame. Clearly he didn’t keep himself on the straight and narrow, after all. But I haven’t heard his name for many years. And I’m afraid I have nothing more of use for you.” She stood, signaling the end of the interview. Smiled at them both graciously, let a bit of Southern pleasantness back into her steely tone. “If you find out anything more, or need more help, please don’t hesitate. This case seems quite complex. There’s nothing I’d like more than to hear those little girls are actually alive after all this time. But I’m not going to hold out hope.”
The interview was over. Baldwin stood, as well. “Anne, Adrian Zamyatin is systematically eliminating everyone on Matcliff’s list. Your name is on it, front and center. I have a couple of agents on their way out here to watch your back until this is all finished.”
She opened her mouth to protest, then sighed. “That will be fine. Thank you.”
She walked them out, and waved as they climbed into Baldwin’s car. Sam watched her smile disappear when she thought she was out of sight.
“Pride goeth before a fall, eh?” Sam said.
“You know it. Man, they really screwed up on this one.”
“She could have been more forthcoming. She knew more than she said. At this point, what does telling the truth matter?”
“Anne is making sure her ass is covered in case this all blows up and she’s called to testify. She gambled and lost the chess match with her boy wonder. It stands to reason there will be fallout.”
“She’s lost more than that, if those girls really are dead. I can’t believe she’d play games with their lives.”
Baldwin gave her a shrewd look. “Lesson one. Not everything in the FBI is what it seems.”
They headed down the winding drive, back onto the main road toward the highway, both lost in their own thoughts.
“You didn’t tell me about Frederick McDonald. That he was killed,” Sam said finally.
“Sorry. June Davidson called early this morning. McDonald tripped his silent alarm last night, which called the police to his house, but it was too late when they arrived. He was dead, and there was a trail of blood out of his basement into the woods. A shotgun by his side had been discharged, so we believe he took a shot at someone, and hit him, before he was taken down. Lab down there’s pulling samples and sending them to us.”
He pulled the car onto Interstate 66 and headed east.
“This doesn’t feel like a serial killer on a spree, does it? Someone is cleaning house. First Doug is killed, which he knew was coming, then everyone who was involved with him in this scheme, peripherally or otherwise, gets taken out,” Sam said.
“You’re probably right. The question is, who’s running the show?”
“Curtis Lott?”
He nodded. “Until we locate the cult, and find Adrian Zamyatin, we’re at a loss there, too. We need to be able to take Curtis Lott into custody and talk to her, find out the true story. See if the girls are still alive. If this is a massive supply chain of babies into a black market, we’re going to be arresting a lot of people.”
“Supply chain.” Sam tapped her fingers on the dashboard. “Anne Carter said Frederick McDonald was in charge of the drug running for the Dixie Mafia. If he knew how to move product from importer to distributor, he might know how to move something more esoteric. Like babies.”
“It’s very possible.”
“Someone will be given immunity to rat out everyone working on this. Baldwin, you can’t let them do that. Everyone involved is culpable here. They all need to be punished.”