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CHAPTER 52
Washington, D.C. Monday, May 15, 2023 10:50 a.m.
BACK IN HER CONDO, ALEX STOOD NEXT TO ANNETTE PACKARD AND pulled the accordion divider to the side, revealing her evidence board and the decade-long journey she’d been on. Alex looked at Annette, who stayed silent as she scanned the board.
“What is this?” Annette asked.
“This is everything I’ve ever learned about the night my family was killed. Everything I remember about that night. Everything I’ve ever dreamed about that night. Every piece of evidence I’ve ever come across on my own or from the formal police investigation.”
Annette continued to scan the board.
“Over the years,” Alex said, “I’ve become too close to it. I’m too far into the details to be able to see a pattern, if there is one to see. I need fresh eyes to look at what I’ve found. I need someone to look at this board with a new perspective and without my preconceived ideas and biases about that night.”
Annette squinted her eyes and raised her chin toward the board. “Is that Roland Glazer?”
“It is,” Alex said. “And he’s just one of the many strange pieces in this impossible puzzle.”
Annette walked slowly toward the board. Alex saw that she had gotten the woman’s attention.
“How about that coffee you promised,” Annette said without taking her eyes off the board.
Alex nodded. “I’ll get right on it.”
An hour later they each sipped a second vacuum-siphoned Americano while they sat on the couch, the evidence board in front of them.
“So,” Alex said. “Can you help me?”
“Me, personally?” Annette said. “No. Like I said, this”—she pointed at Alex’s evidence board—“is not what I do. It intrigues me, but that’s not the type of investigating I do. However”—Annette looked at Alex—“I know someone who can help.”
“Who?”
“An old FBI friend of mine named Lane Phillips. He’s a forensic psychologist who used to be one of the bureau’s top profilers. He retired a number of years ago and now runs a corporation that tracks, if you can believe it, serial killers. And this”—Annette pointed to the board again—“is exactly what he does. I can call him and see if he’s interested in helping.”
Annette took a sip of coffee.
“So the deal is this: if I can convince one of the FBI’s best criminal profilers to take a look at your family’s case, you’ll share everything Laura McAllister uncovered about Duncan Chadwick before you go public with her story?”
“Yes,” Alex said. “That’s the deal.”
Annette stood up. “Okay. I’ll make a call and get back to you.”
Annette walked toward the front door. Alex opened it for her and Annette walked into the hallway and then turned.
“Just curious about something,” Annette said. “You said the information won’t come directly from you, but from a credible source. Care to explain that?”
“Not yet, but I know someone who might be interested in telling Laura’s story on a bigger stage than I could ever provide on my own. Details to come.”
It was another part of her plan that would either work to perfection or backfire horribly.
CHAPTER 53
Washington, D.C. Monday, May 15, 2023 8:30 p.m.
ANNETTE PACKARD POURED A MAKER’S MARK AND SAT DOWN ON her couch. Her Columbia Heights apartment was small but comfortable, and her living room window had a partial view of the city lights and a feel of the Potomac far off in the distance. In her midfifties now, she had wondered for the last few years about her earning power should she creep from under the comfortable, but thin, blanket the US government provided. In three years she could retire from the FBI in good standing, with a nice pension, years of energy in front of her, and options.
She’d had offers over the years. Many had been attractive. The money alone had always made her listen. She earned $72,000 as a special agent in the FBI. Her role as lead scavenger into the lives of any high-profile political candidate had moved her up the ranks and padded her with power and influence but had done little to help her bottom line. The US government and all its subsidiaries, the Federal Bureau of Investigation included, was notorious for hanging awards and titles around the necks of the hardest working employees without rewarding them monetarily. The promise of a lifelong pension, however, was the reward for a job well done and a career hard worked. Before she turned sixty, Annette would be earning $70,000 a year for simply getting out of bed. And the gravy train would continue for the rest of her life, regardless of whether she took on employment elsewhere.
Some of the lucrative offers she’d gotten over the years had come from large corporations that tried to entice Annette Packard and her unique snooping abilities for their private security detail and cyber crimes divisions. Her skill set could be put to good use in corporate America or Wall Street, not only in the hiring of CEOs and other powerhouse executives, but also with opposition research into rival companies and potentially nefarious dealings that ran rampant through the business, financial, and tech industries.
