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“No, I’m wondering where in there she was killed or knocked out to be dumped. Damn, I’d like to get in there and look for evidence, any evidence of what happened to her.”
“I’m sure he has a security system. Plus, if there was any evidence, he’s cleaned it up by now,” Jackson said. He eased off the brake and rolled past the house, and they continued up the road. It curved around the lake, and they got a better view of how large the lake was. It stretched for as far as the eye could see. It wasn’t frozen completely, and they saw several good sized, flowing streams feeding it. So, there was some sort of current in play in the lake. Amanda Elsworth's body could have been carried away.
From their vantage point, they saw three more homes that backed up to the lake, presumably accessible from this dead-end path they were on. It was no longer what either of them would classify as a road. “Three homes, three possibilities of people Amanda Elsworth could have made friends with,” Roth said. “I have to believe that she didn’t have much opportunity to go out and about in Winthrop or Augusta without her husband hovering nearby.”
“We’ll know more once BT and the Digital Team get into their accounts and see where and how the money was spent.”
“I can’t even imagine how a woman becomes that dominated by a man,” Roth said.
“It’s all about control,” Jackson said.
***
Briana and BT worked together, each on their own portions of tracking Amanda and Darren Elsworth’s spending and Amanda’s cell phone movements for several hours. They input all the data for the month of December. Then, BT activated the animation on the program and it laid out on the map, where both of their phone’s movements were and pop ups showed where the credit and debit card purchases took place, along with the day and date.
Briana had to admit, the program was pretty cool. It clearly showed when the husband and wife’s phones were together in the same location and when and where they were apart. And of course, the assumption was that translated to their movements. Punctuating the depiction were the purchases made by either of them, and it was apparent who was making which purchases.
“So Amanda Elsworth did go to the grocery store alone and pay for the purchases with a credit card.”
“She is listed as an authorized user on this card,” BT said.
“Yes, another tactic of a controlling and abusive man. Don’t let the woman build a financial history. You wouldn’t want her to be able to get credit on her own. She’s not even listed as an owner of the house. The mortgage and deed are in his name alone,” Briana said.
“I noticed that. You were thorough in your investigation of them,” BT said.
“Yes. I’m as thorough as I can be with the public records I can access. I don’t take a case unless I’ve checked my client out and confirmed key pieces of information. I turn down a good third of all potential clients because their stories don’t ring true enough.”
“Do you think the ones you decline are looking to run a scam on you?” BT asked.
“That or they don’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.” She shrugged. “But I can’t risk exposing myself if I can’t verify enough to confirm who they are or the existence of an abusive partner or ex-partner who won’t leave them alone. In the case of stalkers, it’s usually easy as multiple police reports would have been filed by the time someone reaches out to me, which isn’t generally the case in domestic abuse cases.”
“It has to be pretty depressing seeing one hundred percent of life’s bad side,” BT said, his thoughts on his Evie’s situation before he met her.
Briana’s lips curled into a smile. She didn’t expect that sentiment from this man. “It’s partly that and partly pride I can help them, and I feel their relief when I get them to safety.”
“Yes, I understand both those emotions.”
A second window opened in the meeting room, and a woman joined. She was a pretty woman, mixed race, with big brown eyes and dark hair piled on her head in a messy bun. A kitchen was behind her.
“And here is Brielle,” BT said. “Briana, our teammate, Brielle.”
“Hello Briana,” Brielle greeted. “I got into the Boston P.D. internal database. Your sheriff was a busy boy before he resigned.”
Briana couldn’t place her accent. It was southern and something else. “So, he was being investigated?”
“Yes, and had he not been a cop, he would have been charged and probably held without bail.”
“The damn blue wall,” Briana remarked.
Brielle nodded. Then she gave a full rundown of Darrin Elsworth’s activities in Boston while he was a cop. Domestic abuse was the least of it.
“I’m glad you could get into those records,” Briana said. “I’d love to have that kind of access.” Her lips spread into a wide grin as she considered it for a moment. Yes, that was one of the things that had been so alluring about working for the CIA, having the resources to really make a difference.
“Any cop who violates the public trust has to be brought down,” Brielle said. “I’ve had firsthand experience with a couple of total scum buckets who were only wearing the badge to give them and their crimes cover. Don’t worry. The team will get this son of a bitch.”
Briana heard the conviction in her voice. And she also got the impression this team and its operation were bigger than what she’d originally thought. It felt like, no, they couldn’t be a black ops group. Not that black ops groups weren’t staffed with former special forces personnel, they were. But these people carried federal law enforcement credentials. Black ops teams didn’t do that or operate domestically. Did they?
Briana noticed that both BT and Brielle stared at her intently.
