Secure Desire Page 15

  Ian put down the bottle and rolled back the live broadcast to freeze on Phyllis’ picture. “I wonder where Robert Jr. is?”

  “Matty is checking into that.”

  “Cassie woke up,” Ian said.

  “My god. And?”

  “She’s confused, but she recognized me.”

  “Who could forget you? Have faith. Give her time.”

  “I know. We’ll put this all together during the meeting in the morning.” After writing some notes and checking his e-mail one more time, Ian headed back to the pool house. Tomorrow would be the time to push for answers.

  The next morning, Kieran, Ian and some of the staff shared breakfast while waiting for the executive team to gather for a meeting.

  The door flew open, and Monique swept into Kieran’s lap. With love, he placed a hand on her belly. She nuzzled him back and grabbed a raspberry from his plate.

  “Okay, you two, we have work to do.” Julian elbowed Lincoln, looking at Kieran’s hand with a questioning eye.

  Outside, the skies were dark gray with fierce clouds, announcing a storm was coming. It matched Ian’s emotions.

  Lincoln looked up at his boss. “You look like shit. Are you sleeping? How’s the little one?”

  “She woke up last night for a few seconds. She was confused but hasn’t awakened again. Hunt and the orthopedic surgeon are planning to finish her shoulder repair.” Ian paced in front of the windows.

  When all were present, Ian took his position at the head of the boardroom-sized table. “Good morning, everyone. I realize the time constraints I put you under, but the longer we’re in the dark, the more danger Cassie is in. Before we share any data, I assure you I’ve read every report you submitted. I invited Detectives Blake and Ruiz to join us. Christian Paulsen told me Blake has knowledge of what occurred six years ago. Last night, at Jamie and Eric’s urging, Rachel Paulsen signed a release for information, authorizing the police to discuss all information without restraints.”

  “Her brothers are going to go nuts,” Kieran said.

  “I hated backing Rachel into a corner. Does anyone have another idea?” Ian shrugged.

  Andy Blake and Javier Ruiz were seasoned police veterans. As detectives, part of their job was to know how to play in the Beltway sandbox. When a powerful man like Ian Chase requested a meeting, they made time. Ian’s late-night phone call was cryptic, advising Andy to bring all the files about Cassie.

  Esther welcomed the men and escorted them into the boardroom, where coffee and fresh fruit sat in the center of the table. The detectives seemed surprised by the size of the group waiting for them. Kieran introduced the fifteen men, Monique, and technical analysts.

  “Mr. Chase, when we spoke yesterday, you said you had information about Cassie Modine. Care to enlighten us?” Andy’s tone was wary.

  Ian shoved a picture of Cassie from six years ago in front of them. “I think we need to start at the beginning.”

  Blake looked at it, then his eyes flashed to Ian’s. Ian handed him the signed release for information and a copy of Rachel’s power of attorney, granting Luke or Rachel the privilege.

  Blake fingered the documents, “I never expected this,” and passed the release to Javier. “I don’t need to look at the file. I’ll never forget. Tiny, beautiful woman, Cassiopeia Ellis. Beaten and sexually assaulted, tortured, strangled and drugged. Bites all over her. No DNA, no fibers, and no memories.”

  Andy took another set of papers from Ian. A picture of Sebastian Ames was on top. “We believe Sebastian Ames was one of Cassie’s rapists.” The word “rapist” scalded his tongue. Ian tapped the photo to show a new bite next to one of her bite scars. “Our forensic odonatologist confirms they match.”

  Javier poured a mug of coffee. “You told us Cassie gave no indication of knowing Mr. Ames. Senator Bynum stated Mr. Ames claimed he met Cassie at a bar called Houseman’s. She apologized for not remembering him. Perhaps this coupled with jealousy provoked the attack?”

  “Detectives, do you believe that? Explain to us what she meant by ‘Cassiopeia is dead’?”

  Andy Blake grasped his chin and thought for a long minute. “You have us at a distinct disadvantage, Mr. Chase. Was Cassie Modine a Chase Security client? Tell us what’s going on.”

  Ian passed both men the Eagle’s Talon business card. Unlike those of Chase Group, Chase Ventures, or Chase Security, an Eagle’s Talon’s card was a simple white card with a picture of an eagle’s talon and a phone number. “Shit. What does the Eagle’s Talon have to do with Cassie? Was she working for them? You?”

  Ian remained passive. “No, she’s now a client under their protection. This is personal. Cassie is a friend.” Is she? What do I call her? Mine!

  “Ah, the non-relationship kind of relationship.” Andy rubbed his brow.

  Martin slipped into the room. “Detectives, this is Martin Bailey. He has been working on cleaning up surveillance tapes from the night of the stabbing.” Kieran darkened the lights.

  “We were told it was taped over,” Javier said.

  “Eagle’s Talon was able to secure a copy before it could be tampered with. Martin, make sure the detectives get a copy as well as the corroborating evidence of who tampered with it,” Ian said as Martin lowered a screen.

  “Can you imagine what we could do with a budget like this?” Javier said to Andy.

  “There was one camera that caught the anteroom to the restroom, and it also captured, by reflection, views of the sinks and the wall where Cassie collapsed. Ian, I know you wanted everyone to see this, but it’s quite graphic,” Martin warned.

  Ian rolled his hand in the air. “Keep going.”

  “There’s no audio, but Ames appears to be talking to her throughout the attack,” Martin warned again. Ian rotated a pencil between his fingers.

  In glimpses, the attack came into view. Even when they couldn’t see Cassie, they could see spatters of blood hitting the walls and mirrors. Sebastian stepped into the frame. Just before Cassie’s head struck the mirror, his lips moved. Ian read them aloud. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ll take what’s mine, and then you will —” Sebastian’s head turned. The video captured him plunging the knife into her chest.

  Julian intervened and continued lip reading, “We used you up. The drugs … a whore. You should have died six years ago. You couldn’t even do that right. I could remind you of how good it felt. No one will save you. Cassiopeia will finally be dead to the world forever.”

  Cassie lifted her weapon and fired. Julian’s eyes widened. “My God. She fired by ear. Look at her—she can’t see.”

  The video continued, showing how Cassie collapsed. When the pencil in Ian’s fingers snapped in two, flying across the table, Kieran called for a break.

  Fifteen minutes later, Martin reconvened the meeting. “I have the transcript from the FBI communications.” He placed a file on the table. “Greg Wilds was harassing Cassie all night. She countered him often. He seems jealous of you, Ian. He berated or taunted her every chance he could get. The recording also confirms Brice Walton informed Wilds early in the evening her com did not function in the restroom. Wilds acknowledged the transmission.

  “After taking a guest into custody, she advised Wilds she was going to take action against him. I confirmed she left a message for Sophie Garland stating the same thing. Before the stabbing, Cassie did notify the team she was entering the restroom, and Wilds responded. His story is falling apart.

  “Secondary information on house security communication lines picked up a conversation he had with Agent Marcus after the attack. Wilds was angry with Cassie and let her flounder. It is also clear he didn’t realize how much danger she was in, but once she was, he went into cover-his-ass mode. That, as well as the waiting room commentary, are transcribed.”

  Andy raised his brows. “You bugged the waiting room?”

  Martin shrugged. “They had no expectation of privacy.”

  “Uh-huh. Okay, Chase. Let’s share.” Javier placed a
file on the table. “Six years ago, Cassie was to meet her fiancé, Garett Whitman, for dinner at the Georgetown restaurant, La Luna. He reported they had a fight in the parking lot—and she stomped off. That’s all we had for the timeline.”

  “Were you able to corroborate Whitman’s story?” Julian asked.

  Blake’s brows creased. “Yes and no. The whole Whitman family set us on edge. The older Mr. and Mrs. said Cassie left their place at about ten after dropping off a painting. Said she drank quite a bit with them to celebrate her dissertation defense. When she was found, even if that was her only drink, she had no alcohol in her urine.” Andy shuffled papers in his file and pulled out a test result. “See? EtG 0.0. If she were drunk, there should have been something. That always bothered us. According to his statement, the younger Whitman was waiting at the restaurant. No cameras. No valet. The hostess confirmed seeing Whitman and a woman matching Cassie’s description fighting in the parking lot. She confirmed hearing the man call her ‘Cassiopeia’ more than once. Her car was found in the parking lot, which also bothered us. Why did she leave on foot and not in her car?

  “There was no indication she was attacked at the restaurant or in her apartment. On the canvas of her neighborhood, no one heard or saw anything unusual until the police and ambulance arrived. The clinic confirmed she had a near-lethal amount of heroin and a very high dose of scopolamine in her system. Our vice squad checked local dealers for the scopolamine—nothing. She was found naked in her bathtub covered in black rose petals. The roses came from a florist off Washington, bought with cash by a young blonde girl. No camera there either. Sketch of her was generic.”

  Javier picked up where Andy left off, “The story always seemed too perfect. There was no DNA recovered, and Cassie had no memory after arriving at the Whitman’s. All we had were her physical injuries. One strange thing on the internal physical exam, in addition to the signs of rape trauma, there was an odd type of swelling. The doctor remarked he’d only seen this kind of swelling in a medical procedure. He didn’t offer us an idea of what. We never came up with anything out of that and haven’t seen anything like it since. Ran it through VICAP too. The only hope is if we can match the other set of bite marks.”

  Ian forged ahead. “Back to the restaurant, what did the hostess say Cassie was wearing?”

  Javier scratched his head. “No clue. Why?”

  “Just a thought,” Ian said.

  Andy laid out pictures of the crime scene: the tub, the bathroom, bedroom, and living area. There was no sign of any clothing strewn about. On the floor by the front door was a high-heeled navy pump. The mate to the pair was on the floor beside the tub.

  “May I?” Ian picked up a picture and handed it to Monique. “Is this a well-known shoe?”

  Monique smiled. “Darling, those are Valentino.”

  Kieran looked at Martin. “Find that hostess. Pick her brain.” Kieran turned to Andy. “I assume her name is in your file.”

  Monique passed Ian a report file. “I went to the Franklin Clinic yesterday and met the charming Dr. Simon Holland. We had a lovely hypothetical discussion about a young female patient from six years ago. She arrived at their facility unresponsive, hypothermic, bruised, showing manual strangulation wounds with genital, anal, and vaginal tearing and bleeding. A toxicology screen showed scopolamine and heroin. A rape kit was conducted and showed no fluids, fibers, or DNA. The exam did show multiple bite marks over her body, which were all cataloged, measured, and photographed. The exam also showed unusual bruising at the cervical opening. Dr. Holland wondered if a foreign object was involved. She awakened three days later in a catatonic state, using her first name, followed by the words ‘is dead’ repeatedly. When her awareness returned, she had no memory of the attack. After discharge, the patient never returned for follow-up.”

  Kieran hugged his wife. “Nice work, doll face.”

  “You know what we have about the first attack. How does this tie into the attack at the gala? Why wait six years?” Javier tapped his pencil on the table.

  Eyes turned to Kieran. “Before we continue to break it down, are you aware a five-million-dollar contribution was made to a sexual violence charity in Cassie’s name from Garett Whitman’s trust three weeks after the attack?” Surprise etched the detectives’ faces. “Well, let’s keep breaking it down. Lincoln, I believe you have it from the dinner.”

  Lincoln opened his notes. “I did some deeper research into Mr. Ames. Before working for Bynum, he worked as an economic affairs officer—duty station Bogota. While there, there were three reports of women requesting reassignment. He was transferred out—I’m hitting a dead end. The women no longer work for the embassy and have refused comment. All three received twenty-five thousand dollars at the time, divided into three payments. I am checking his financials that far back. I don’t think the money came from him, but it sounds like hush money.”

  Lincoln handed everyone a folder, then summarized Sebastian’s background. “Review of his social media, emails, and cell phone logs are in progress; we’re sorting personal from professional. From what I’ve seen, he looks like a wannabe silver spoon kid. Reading the postings, he seemed inept. No girlfriends. From the phone and text logs, three names pop up with regularity: Robert Bynum Jr., Burt Marshall, and Kevin Tyler, son of one of Bradford’s partners. We are identifying all the other numbers. Ian and Monique, did he give you any idea he knew the younger Whitman?”

  Monique played with her wedding band. “No. The older Whitman knew him.”

  Ian shook his head. “I don’t know. Whitman didn’t make any table banter. He was hung up on Cassie.”

  “Don’t you think it’s odd he wouldn’t know the younger Whitman?” Lincoln asked.

  Ian nodded. “Let’s find that link—if there is one.”

  Lincoln finished up his report. “During the dinner, Sebastian made three calls—all under four seconds to Bynum Jr. Cassie’s and his seats were originally assigned to Bynum Jr. and Phyllis Wilson.”

  Kieran nodded, scrawling notes in his tablet. “Good. Tate, you have the hospital?”

  Tate rose. “Before her discovery in the bathroom, Ian removed an empty water glass from Cassie’s place setting. Residue in the bottom of the glass contained scopolamine and Rohypnol. Examination of blood drawn in the ambulance confirms the presence of both substances in her blood.” Tate handed the detectives a sealed cardboard box with a chain of evidence card attached.

  “Cassie arrived in the emergency room at 2313 in cardiac arrest. After heroic procedures in the trauma room, she was placed in OR 1 under the direction of Dr. Joseph Maddox, Chief of Surgery. As a result of that surgery, Hunter Montgomery brought a formal complaint against Dr. Maddox for gross deviation from the standard of care. The hospital board is planning to discuss this and the other evidence we discovered.”

  Martin stared at his tablet. “Ian, this just came in. On the Thursday morning after the attack, the one hundred thousand dollars wired into Joe Maddox’s savings account came from a bank in the British Virgin Islands. There is a trace in progress for the account holder.

  “Before Cassie reached the OR, Dr. Maddox was operating on a private patient. The hospital operator reported Maddox received an important outside page from a woman who, according to the operator’s log, gave her name as Andromeda. Day shift nurse Pamela Barnes spoke with the scrub nurse who was with that patient. She said Maddox made the resident close so he could take the call. Wouldn’t let it go to speakerphone. Pam said, on his private patients, Maddox never allows residents to close.”

  Ian winced. “According to mythology, Andromeda is Cassiopeia’s mythological daughter. She was the reason Cassiopeia was sentenced to be tortured for all eternity.” The air seemed to leave the room.

  Tate returned to his report. “Cassie was stricken with severe septic shock. Dr. Montgomery discovered a piece of surgical sponge left inside her thigh wound—a wound three witnesses stated Dr. Maddox would not let anyone near. Upon examination, the sponge
was contaminated with staph. If that wasn’t enough, Cassie was also stricken with bacterial meningitis.”

  Martin handed the detectives and Kieran a file. “I went through Maddox’s credit card transactions. Maddox made a purchase at a supplier in Virginia. The day after Cassie was admitted, he ordered two vials of the bacteria that caused her meningitis.”

  “You can buy this stuff over the counter?” Julian asked.

  “Yeah, this and about a thousand other bugs. It’s listed as a biosafety level two, which basically means it doesn’t aerosolize easily. We saw what it did to her injected. Now we need to know why.”

  Andy Blake scanned the evidence. “You have tied this up in a bow. With what you have, we have enough to arrest Maddox. We just need a warrant, but as you said, why? He’s not a stupid man. The money can’t be worth a career.”

  “Ian, Tucker Hanlon is holding on line three.” Esther stood in the doorway, holding her hand to her ear in the sign of a telephone.

  He called for a break, then suppressed his desire to run to the phone, walking calmly to his office instead. He took a deep breath before answering. “Tuck?”

  “They’re still operating, but I want to give you an update. The orthopedist is working on her shoulder. It’s taking longer than expected. There’s more damage than we thought, and we had to slow down more when her heart got a little cranky. Hunt and the anesthesiologist took care of it. A cardiologist is coming by to examine her, so I notified security for clearance.”

  “Will she wake up?”

  “Nothing done today should interfere with that. But Cassie is on her own timetable.”

  “Keep me posted.” Ian headed back to the boardroom.

  Tate started the meeting again. “I spoke with our physician assistants. Cassie was undergoing dialysis with a premixed fluid, which arrived in a manufacturer’s carton from central supply the day before Cassie’s case hit the floor. Two cases were delivered to the ICU, both contaminated. That leaves a short window.