The Secret Friend

18

'Where did you get this?' Darby asked.

'Is this your man?'

'It's him, no question. Who is he? Do you know?'

'His name is Malcolm Fletcher. Does the name ring any bells?'

'No. Should it?'

'Fletcher is a former profiler from back when the Investigative Support Unit called itself Behavioral Sciences,' Bryson said. 'He's also the FBI's number four man on their Most Wanted List.'

'What did he do?'

'According to what I've read on the internet, Fletcher attacked three federal agents in eighty-four. One is brain dead. The other two disappeared. Their bodies were never recovered. The interesting thing is the Feds didn't place Fletcher on their Most Wanted List until 2003.'

'What's the reason for the delay?'

'Good question. If I had to guess, I'd say the Feds wanted to handle the matter internally.'

What a surprise, Darby thought. 'How did you find him?'

'My first job out of the academy was as a beat cop for Saugus. There was this case back in eighty-two where the bodies of two strangled women were dumped along Route One. The detective in charge of the case, this guy named Larry Foley, called the Behavioral Sciences Unit, and BSU sent a profiler to study the cases. I never met Fletcher personally, but his name was tossed around a lot – everyone kept commenting on his strange, black eyes. I was on my way into the station when I remembered his name and thanks to the power of Google, there he was on the Most Wanted List.'

'What's the deal with his eyes? Is it some sort of hereditary condition?'

'I have no idea. Like I said, I never met the man. I have a federal friend in the Boston office. I'm going to call him and see what I can find. Maybe he can give us some idea as to what the hell Fletcher is doing here.'

'Do you trust this person?'

'You're worried the Feds might decide to get involved?'

'The thought crossed my mind.'

'Mine, too,' Bryson said. 'Let's talk to the commissioner and see how she wants to play it.'

'I'd like to review the Saugus cases you mentioned.'

'Hold on, I've got another call.'

Coop stepped into her office wearing a T-shirt that said 'I Like Boobies'.

'How old are you again?' Darby asked.

'My mother gave me this for my birthday.' Coop rubbed a hand over his wet hair and looked at the pictures hanging on the wall. 'I'm glad to see you're not taking your work home with you.'

Bryson came back on the line. 'That was Jonathan Hale. He wants to talk about what happened last night.'

'What did you tell him?'

'I told him you and I would meet and discuss the matter with him at his home at two. He lives in Weston. I'm at the station right now. You want me to swing by and pick you up?'

Darby gave Bryson her address. She hung up and filled Coop in on Malcolm Fletcher.

Coop sat in the leather chair by the window, squinting in the sunlight. 'I think it would be wise if I stayed with you for a bit,' he said.

Darby felt relieved. She didn't want him to go home. Not yet.

'I'll swing by my house and pick up some stuff,' Coop said.

'Are you going to wear any more of those ridiculous T-shirts?'

'It's either that or I sleep in the nude.'

A snapshot of him slipping into his jeans flashed through her mind. Her face reddened.

'Please,' he said. 'Don't fight me on this.'

'You can take my car.' Darby opened her desk drawer and removed the spare set of house and car keys. She tossed them and stood. 'I'm not going to cook for you.'

'What about backrubs?'

'Keep dreaming.'

'Not a problem,' Coop said.