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“I didn’t investigate cases for the FBI. I gathered intel.”
“It’s a case from before you joined the Bureau.”
“Before I joined the Bureau? We’re going back a ways, my friend.”
Oliver nodded. “Twenty years.”
Walt squinted his eyes. “Which case?”
“Cameron Young.”
“Wow. Now there’s a blast from the past.”
“So you remember it?”
“Of course I do. It was my first homicide—wealthy novelist found hanging naked from his balcony in the Catskills. The image is still burned into my memory.”
In addition to the crime scene, Walt remembered other things about the case, too. He had started his career in law enforcement as a cop in New York State’s Bureau of Criminal Investigation before working his way up to the detective squad at the ripe age of twenty-eight. The murder of Cameron Young was his first solo case. Because the victim was a high-profile writer, Walt’s first investigation had been conducted under the hot lens of the media. Every discovery had been made public, and his margin of error was narrow. He knew from the outset that he could make no mistakes. And he hadn’t. He conducted a meticulous investigation and gathered his evidence by the book and with no corners cut. The shortcuts came from those above him.
But it was not Walt’s job to build the prosecution’s case, only to gather the evidence and turn it over to the DA’s office. And he had. All his ducks had been arranged in a neat row, the DA had convened a grand jury, and the indictment of Victoria Ford was imminent. Then 9/11 came and the case fizzled and disappeared. Afterward, Walt heard rumors about the district attorney and the manipulation of evidence. When he searched for specifics, he found only resistance and dead ends. A year later, the FBI recruited him to fill one of the many holes in counterterrorism. He forgot about the Cameron Young case and gave up detective work to chase terrorists.
“I’m usually pretty good at recognizing angles,” Walt said. “But hell if I can figure out why the FBI would be interested in a homicide from twenty years ago.”
“Something’s come up and we need your help. Your involvement in the Cameron Young case might provide perfect cover.”
“Cover for what?”
“Ever heard of a woman named Avery Mason?”
Walt’s eyebrows pinched together. “The American Events lady? Of course. It’s the only television show I watch down here. I stream it on my tablet.”
“Her birth name is Claire Avery Montgomery. She changed it to Avery Mason when she landed in LA.”
Walt shrugged. “Don’t a lot of Hollywood types change their name?”
“Maybe. But Avery Mason’s name change has nothing to do with Hollywood and everything to do with heritage. Do you know who Garth Montgomery is?”
“The Ponzi scheme cheat?”
“That’s him.”
“Didn’t he steal something like ten billion dollars from investors?”
“Try fifty. He convinced giant corporations to invest in his hedge fund on the strength of its returns. But the books were cooked. Feds caught on and made their move. To stay out of prison he offered to testify against his partners. Then he disappeared. No one’s seen him since.”
“What’s this got to do with the American Events lady?”
“She’s Garth Montgomery’s daughter, and she’s done a magnificent job of hiding in plain sight. None of the millions of people who tune in to her show know her real identity. But we do, and we’ve been watching her for some time now. We believe she knows where her father’s hiding, and we think she’s been aiding and abetting him.”
Walt slowly nodded. “I’m still not making the connection to the Cameron Young case.”
“There’s been a development in the case. Remember the name of the woman who killed him?”
“Victoria Ford,” he said. “What’s the development?”
“About a month ago, the medical examiner’s office in New York made a positive ID on remains found at Ground Zero. They belonged to Victoria Ford, and that’s where you come in, my friend.”
Walt leaned closer to his old boss. “I’m listening.”
