Olivia stood up and leaned on the corner of the desk, her brows furrowed. “How did she end up living in Dorchester with all the money you gave her?”
Alexander shrugged. “I have no idea. I checked her bank accounts and she barely has twenty dollars to her name. She works, but her pay isn’t much more than minimum wage. There’s no record of her ever depositing the proceeds from the sale of the bakery.”
“Did you mention any of this to Agent Moretti?”
“What? All this about Rayne?”
“Yeah. Maybe there’s a connection. It’s a bit curious that Rayne suddenly reappears in your life, after a year of intentionally shutting you out, just hours after her fiancé’s sister is found brutally murdered and just before your own daughter…” She turned her head, unable to say the words. She took a steadying breath, then met Alexander’s eyes once more. “I just think maybe whoever did this might be closer to the family than we want to believe.”
“Maybe,” Alexander said, humoring her. “Or maybe she was trying to come to terms with Mischa’s death, as well. She may have simply been revisiting the past and that’s why she was standing outside this building. I’m not so sure they teach Computer Hacking 101 in culinary school,” Alexander added, trying not to sound too sarcastic. Olivia was simply trying to offer a fresh perspective, but being able to manipulate the company’s online database, not to mention break through its firewall and various other security protocols, as well as have enough knowledge to somehow secure Martin’s thumbprint required advanced training. While it had been a year since he had last spoken to Rayne, he simply couldn’t see her being able to pull something like this off.
“I know, but—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Burnham,” a voice said, interrupting Olivia. “Mrs. Burnham.”
Simpson hurried into the room, carrying what appeared to be a rather large accordion file, placing it on the desk. Olivia took this as her cue to get up and head back to the sitting area of the office. Alexander felt a hint of remorse that he shot down her theory that Rayne could have been behind Melanie’s disappearance, but so could countless other people who would actually be able to carry out something like this. While Rayne may have had the motive, she was lacking in the other criteria. Still, he made a mental note to dig a little more into her background.
“I’m sorry it took so long, but here’s everything you requested on Vincent Moretti.”
Alexander raised his eyebrows. “This is his file?”
“Yes, sir. Well, his is relatively small. Model student all through high school. Went to a community college for two years, then transferred to a state school. Studied criminology, then went straight into the police academy. He graduated at the top of his class and worked as a beat cop before being promoted to a detective in the Family Justice Division. He was only there for a short period of time before being recruited by the FBI. All this before turning thirty. Pretty impressive, if you ask me.”
“Right.” Alexander eyed him. “Then what’s the rest of this?”
Simpson paused for a beat. “Turns out Vincent Moretti’s father used to work here.”
Alexander’s eyes widened. “For the company?”
“Yes, sir. In this office, as a matter of fact.”
“I don’t recall anyone with the last name Moretti working here. Was it before my time?”
“He was here for a few months after you took over. And you wouldn’t recall anyone with the last name Moretti. Vincent took his mother’s maiden name when his parents divorced approximately eighteen years ago. His father’s name was Joseph Mulligan.”
Alexander flipped through the papers on his desk, allowing the information to soak in. “That name sounds familiar,” he commented. While he liked to think he knew everyone who worked for him, it simply wasn’t possible. The company had offices all across the country and around the world, hiring hundreds of people from administration to field agents.
“He was shot approximately six months after you took over. He was on his way to his son’s baseball game and was gunned down. A mob boss had put a hit out on him to prevent him from testifying in conjunction with one of his cases here. I’m still digging for details. Suffice it to say, Mulligan never made it to the baseball game.”
Alexander leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Everything began to make sense. “So that’s why this guy hates me. He thinks it’s my fault his dad died. The second he got to my house, he acted like he had a permanent stick shoved up his ass.” Returning his attention to the papers in front of him, he flipped through them before eyeing the time.
“Thanks for this, Simpson. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”
“Certainly, sir. I understand how it looks as if I could be involved, considering how your system was hacked into. Like I told Agent Moretti, I’m more than happy to answer any questions and have an independent analyst go through all our computer systems.”
“I appreciate that, Jamie,” Alexander responded. “I could be wrong, but my gut tells me you’re not the type to do something like this.”
“Yes, sir.” Simpson nodded, heading toward the door before facing Alexander once more. “Oh, and there’s one more thing I probably should point out.”
“What’s that?” Alexander asked, getting up from his chair and organizing all the scattered papers on his desk. He opened the drawer and placed the file in it.
“Vincent Moretti minored in computer science. Before he was put on the CARD team, he was in the Cyber Division.”
Alexander slammed the desk drawer closed.
Chapter Fifteen
December 19
12:15 PM
ALEXANDER RUSHED INTO THE conference room in City Hall, Olivia eyeing him with concern as she struggled to keep up with his long, determined strides. During the short drive there, he had refused to say a word.
With fierce eyes, he scanned the large room, the smell of coffee and doughnuts making him nauseated. Several FBI agents and other officials were assembled, many of them discussing the upcoming press conference and what information should be released. But Alexander was only looking for one person.
“Mr. Burnham.” Agent Moretti glanced up at him briefly, ignoring his rabid demeanor, then returned his attention to a group of agents, all of them looking over a stack of papers he held in his hand.
“When were you going to tell me?” Alexander bellowed.
The room went still. His face grew red as he yanked at his tie. His wild eyes, disheveled hair, and scruffy chin gave him a crazed appearance, like a man at the end of his rope. Olivia pulled on his arm, giving him a questioning look, but Alexander didn’t budge, his eyes remaining zeroed in on the agent.
Moretti remained hunched over the table, flipping through a file for a protracted moment, then faced him with an annoyed expression.