Alex spent the first hour of her return flight in shock, sipping vodka and reliving incidents from her truncated career. Her sense of being on the outside, of no longer being a player in the critical events of the nation, was overwhelming. But somewhere over eastern Tennessee, she found herself unable to remain disconnected any longer. After the flight attendants finished their beverage service, she leaned against the window and surreptitiously switched on her cell phone, keeping an eye out for roving glances. This was against the law, and she no longer had FBI credentials to flash for special treatment. Finally, the phone connected to a network and three voice-mail messages popped up. She covertly held her phone to her ear and dialed voice mail.
The first message was from Will Kilmer: "I figured I'd hear from you this morning, girl. Since I didn't, I'm guessing it's bad news. But you can't let that get you down. About four this morning, my man in Greenwood shot a video of Thora Shepard and that surgeon in flagrante delicto. I'm e-mailing a clip of the video to your computer, and I'm gonna send a captured still to your cell phone. No sign of Andrew Rusk or anybody else suspicious in Greenwood. But that video's a doozy, girl. I feel bad for the doc. He's a nice guy. Anyway, I hope I'm wrong about the hearing. You get your tail back home. Your mama's still hanging on, and we miss you."
Alex felt alternating waves of relief and sadness, but she had no time to reflect. The second message was from Chris Shepard's receptionist: the rental car information Alex would need in Jackson. She scrawled it on the back of an FBI card from her purse, then leaned against the window.
When she heard the voice on the third message, her heart nearly stopped. The speaker was John Kaiser, one of the top field agents in the entire FBI. Kaiser had spent several years working serial homicides for the Investigative Support Unit in Quantico, Virginia, but had returned to normal duty at his own request some years ago. Widely respected throughout the Bureau, Kaiser had spent the past few years based in New Orleans, where he'd solved an art-related murder case that made international news. Alex had tried to reach Kaiser ten days ago, when she'd first realized what she might be dealing with, but he hadn't returned her calls. Agents at the New Orleans field office claimed he was on an extended vacation with his wife, a war photographer named Jordan Glass, so Alex had dropped it.
"Alex, this is John," said Kaiser. "I'm only just now getting back to you because I've been working undercover. I haven't even been able to contact Jordan for the past six weeks. When I heard your messages, I couldn't believe it. I want to hear what else you have. You've got my cell number. Call me anytime."
Alex tried to control the emotions welling up within her. There was enough relief to bring tears to her eyes. But then a terrible thought struck her: Kaiser had probably left that message before hearing that she'd been suspended.
She slumped down in the seat and cradled her face in her left hand. Of all the people in the world whose help she could have wished for, Kaiser was the man. Not only that, he owed her.
Two years ago, Kaiser had been taken hostage by a pair of New Orleans homicide detectives under investigation for murder. For decades the NOPD had been crippled by a system of graft so pervasive that it tarnished the city's national reputation. In the early 1990s, several Crescent City cops were convicted of murder, and the federal government almost took over the policing of the city. Ten years later, the corruption was still deep-rooted. Kaiser had been pursuing some detectives who were facilitating the flow of hard drugs into the city, when one of his informants wore a wire to a meeting in the French Quarter. The wire was discovered, and Kaiser burst in to try to prevent his informant from being killed. Kaiser himself was taken hostage, and the detectives barricaded themselves in an apartment on Royal Street. Alex had been doing some extra training in Atlanta at the time, but her rep within the Bureau was at its peak. A Bureau jet flew her to Lakefront Airport, which was right next door to the New Orleans field office, and then she was rushed to the French Quarter in the SAC's personal car. The negotiation lasted just seven hours, but her psychological duel with the sociopathic detectives proved the most grueling of her career. Twice during the ordeal she had believed that Kaiser was about to be executed, and once had even believed him dead. She learned later that one of the detectives had held his weapon to Kaiser's head and discharged it at a slight angle, which resulted in permanent hearing loss in the FBI agent's right ear but preserved his life. Kaiser had overheard the entire negotiation, and he gave Alex sole credit for saving his life. The two detectives were still serving out the sentences that resulted from the deal that ended the incident.
Alex thought of Kaiser, she realized that a digital image had been downloading to her phone. After it finished, she studied the tiny screen with absolute concentration. Though the resolution was poor, the picture showed a nude blond woman standing with her elbows on a balcony rail, while a naked man thrust into her from behind. The woman was unmistakably Thora Shepard. The balcony glinted dull silver, as though made of steel, and its architectural look gave Alex the feeling she was seeing a balcony of the Alluvian Hotel. If a still photo carried this kind of punch, what would watching the video do to Thora's husband?
She took several deep breaths, then called John Kaiser's cell phone.
"Kaiser," he answered.
"It's Alex Morse, John."
He didn't respond at first. Then he said, "I heard what happened this morning. I'm sorry."
"Not a good day, amigo."
"Something's fucked up when this kind of thing goes down."
"I'm afraid you're the only one who thinks so."
"I doubt that. Do you plan to stop working your case?"
She hesitated. "Are you going to report anything I say today?"
"You know better than that."
"I can't stop, John. I know I'm right, and now the doctor who's the next target believes it, too. He started out skeptical, but now he knows. This case is crazy. You wouldn't believe the crime signature. It's a team scenario-a lawyer and a medical professional-and they're killing people by giving them cancer."
"Cancer," Kaiser said softly. "Alex, are you sure?"
She closed her eyes. "Positive."
"What's the motive?"
"I think it's mixed between the perpetrators. But at bottom, it's a divorce attorney saving rich clients millions of dollars by killing their spouses."
There was a long silence. "What exactly do you want me to do?"
"You're not supposed to do anything."
Dry laughter came through the ether. "Let's say I don't know that. What would you want me to do then?"
"Are you in New Orleans now?"
"Sí."
"Drive up to Jackson, Mississippi. I'm on my way there now, nonstop flight. And, no, the Bureau doesn't know."
"What would we do at this meeting?"
"I want you to meet this doctor. Listen to him, then listen to me. I need your brain, John. Your experience with homicide. It's three hours by car. Please tell me you'll come."
After a long silence, Kaiser said, "Where do you want to meet?"
Alex suggested the Cabot Lodge near the University Medical Center. Kaiser said he could make no promises, but that he would try to be there. Then he hung up.
Energized by the prospect of Kaiser's assistance, she started to dial Chris. Then she remembered the balcony photograph. Chris would demand to see the video as soon as he heard of its existence. What would he do after he saw it? Drive to Shane Lansing's office and beat him senseless? Get drunk and simply shut down from despair? She had seen men react both ways, and there was no way to predict the reaction. Of course, she could "forget" to mention the photo when she asked Chris to meet Kaiser, but she would pay a price for that later. No…she should let Chris deal with the pain now. That way, by the time he got to Jackson, he might be as committed as she to nailing Andrew Rusk and his accomplice. Alex glanced around the cabin again, then speed-dialed Will Kilmer.