And then she and her mother had discovered the blood and destruction waiting for them at the house.
The medical examiner had put Jim Vargas’s death at about five in the evening. Later, when Julia became a cop, she’d accessed the police reports from that day. According to what her mother told the police, they’d arrived home shortly after five. They’d pushed through the front door of their house minutes after her father had shot himself.
So close to seeing him alive. Maybe stopping him. Close, but no cigar.
“Did you and Jim ever feel like you were close to catching the Hangman? You listed suspects in the files, and I read the interviews. Was there anyone who stuck with you more than any other?”
“I didn’t like Gene Tanner. He was the husband of the first victim. We leaned on him hard. When the press got wind of it, they chased Tanner and dug into his personal life. But then the second body showed and he had a solid alibi, so we backed off.”
“Did anyone know all three victims?”
He didn’t answer immediately, as his gaze drifted to the strip malls giving way to woodlands as they drove north on I-95. “We spent countless hours going through the interviews. The evidence. But there was never one guy that stuck out to us.” He shook his head, plucking a thread from his pant leg. “And after Jim died, well, I lost a good bit of the fire in my belly to solve the case. I had wanted this killer caught so badly. And then the killings stopped, and I wondered if maybe the rumors about Jim were true. And if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”
She shifted in her seat. He’d never told her any of this before. “You thought he might have been the Hangman?”
“Working undercover can change a person, especially if they’re under for a long time. Jim and I went to the academy together. The job took its toll on us both, but especially him.”
She was silent.
“Jim could be short-tempered, and he wasn’t afraid to bend the law to catch a suspect. In the darkest parts of the night, I thought maybe he was the Hangman. That the job had transformed him.”
Julia sat still, barely breathing.
“It was a year after his death before I could get really motivated about much. Like I said, there were no more deaths, and the case was shoved to the back burner. Until you. And now Novak.” He stared out the window. “By the way, Novak asked about you today.”
“Me?” Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “What about me?”
“General stuff. Mainly why you care about the case.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“The party line. The last case your old man worked deserved to be solved.”
“It’s not a party line. It’s the truth.”
His gaze narrowed, like he smelled something was off. “Don’t bullshit me, Julia. You think solving that case will somehow explain Jim’s suicide, and maybe send a message to the friends who distanced themselves from you and your mother after his death.”
“We did fine.”
“It’s okay to say you’re suffering.”
“But I’m not.”
“Novak thinks you are.”
“Really?”
His gaze cut toward her. “What’s going on between you two?”
She adjusted her sunglasses. “We had a case last night.”
He shook his head. “I’m not so far gone that I don’t see the way he looks at you. What’s the deal with you two?”
“Nothing.”
He chuckled. “Maybe nothing for you, kiddo, but I don’t think Novak received the memo.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Monday, October 30, 1:45 p.m.
Julia took the Quantico exit and let the GPS guide her along side streets to the security station where a guard stood. Ken, who had been silent most of the trip, sat straighter.
“Agent Julia Vargas,” she said to the guard, showing her badge. “And this is retired detective Ken Thompson. We’re meeting with Garrett Andrews.”
The guard studied her identification before handing it back. “I need to see his identification.”
Julia smiled. “Ken, where’s your driver’s license?”
The hint of uncertainty in her voice clearly irritated him. Frowning, Ken reached in his breast pocket and produced his ID. He handed it to the guard.
“You’re on the list,” the guard said. “Follow the road to the back.”
“Got it,” Julia said.
She followed the road and parked in a visitor spot by the front door. Out of the car, they made their way to the sleek five-story office building. The smoked-glass front was opaque, but she sensed every move they made was monitored by someone on the inside.
“Ready to wow the committee?” she asked Ken.
He tugged at the edges of his sports jacket as he stared at the building. “You’re doing most of the talking, right?”
“That’s the plan, but they may ask you questions. Is that okay?”
He jutted out his chin. “Of course it’s okay. I miss details from time to time, Julia, but I’m not an invalid.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really worried that they’ll turn us down.”
The lines around his eyes softened. “No one says no to you.”
“Sure they do.”
A smile crunched the edge of his lips. “And the poor bastard lived to regret it, didn’t he?”
“Maybe a little.” She straightened his tie.
When they stepped into the lobby, a formidable man stood by the security desk. In his late thirties, he wore a well-tailored suit that hugged a trim waist. The shoes were polished. The red tie was straight, and the thick blond hair was cropped close. Scars on the back of his left hand suggested he’d been badly burned.
“Agent Vargas,” the man said. The voice was deep with hints of rust on the edges.
“Yes, sir. I’m Julia Vargas.” She moved toward him, her hand outstretched.
He wrapped long fingers around her hand and squeezed. “I’m Garrett Andrews.”
Matching his grip, she met his gaze. She’d read up on the company and its principal partners. Andrews was the firm’s computer expert, though some considered him a genius. He’d served with Special Forces in Iraq until an IED explosion had blown up his vehicle. He was the only survivor of the explosion. “Good to meet you, Mr. Andrews. This is Ken Thompson, my father’s former partner.”
Andrews extended his hand to Ken. “Pleasure to meet you. I’ve read the case files. You did some impressive work on the case, Detective Thompson.”
Ken accepted his hand, no hint of worry in his lined face. “But I didn’t solve it. The killer is still free.”
“You’re here to fix that.”
“Damn right,” Ken said.
She’d briefed Andrews on Ken’s medical condition and had worried he would patronize Ken. But Andrews’s demeanor didn’t suggest even a whiff of pity.
“Excellent,” Andrews said.
Ken nodded toward her. “Julia is the driving force behind this case now. I’ll help wherever I can.”
“I bet you still have some moves,” Andrews said.