Bad Intent Read online

  “Let’s back up a little,” Ramirez said. A subtle tone to his voice, like he wasn’t entirely convinced. Like Riley was some kind of fringe militiaman with a distrust for authority. Which wasn’t entirely off the mark. But that didn’t mean Riley was wrong. “You don’t have any proof this wasn’t an isolated incident, do you? Just a gut feeling.”

  “Her car was tampered with. You’re telling me it’s coincidence a new Lexus breaks down, and the first guy who happens by tries to abduct her?”

  “It could be. We don’t know for sure the car was tampered with. Is it still there?”

  “I have no idea,” Agatha said.

  “You said the guy was driving a Dodge pickup truck. Did you get the plate number?”

  The color drained from Agatha’s face. Like it was a detail she hadn’t even stopped to consider.

  “Tango golf three, yankee bravo four,” Riley said. “District of Columbia plates. Last inspected May of 2014.” Agatha stared at him like he was Rain Man.

  “You’re going from memory? Are you sure?”

  “As sure as if it was right here in front of me.”

  “Okay,” Ramirez said, apparently satisfied. “We’ll get a bulletin set up. But I’d be willing to bet that truck is still parked where you left it, outside the diner.”

  “I’d bet it’s not. They’d have found it by now. Gotten rid of it.”

  “I think you might be jumping to conclusions. I’ll help you out as best I can, but until we find out otherwise, this is really Charlemagne County’s problem.”

  “Ms. Dumont lives a few miles from this station,” Riley said. “If she was followed from her home, and I believe she was, then that does fall under DC jurisdiction. And if her stalker, Scott Amundsen, is connected to the abduction, then that falls under your jurisdiction as well.”

  “I’ll look him up, for sure. But like I said, he wasn’t present at the crime scene. Nothing to suggest this wasn’t two isolated incidents.”

  “What about protection?” Agatha said. “I can’t go back to my apartment with these people after me.”

  Ramirez did some more typing on his computer and shuffled around some papers on his desk in a manner that didn’t exactly fill Riley with the utmost confidence.

  “Here’s the deal. We’re stretched thin at the moment. Missing persons. Homicides. The usual fun stuff. I’m going to do everything I can to get to the bottom of this, I promise you that. But we can’t just set up a guard detail. Not without proof that someone really is out to do you harm. If you had threatening emails, phone calls, anything like that, then it’s a different story. I find out your stalker and this guy in the Camo jacket are connected, I’ll have dedicated officers watching you 24/7. But until that happens, there’s not a whole lot I can do. It seems to me that what we have here is a guy who saw a pretty young woman stranded by the side of the road, and tried to take advantage of the situation. I know you believe otherwise, and that you’re probably scared as hell considering what happened, but I don’t think you’re in imminent danger.”

  Agatha leaned forward. Looked Ramirez hard in the eyes.

  “You’re wrong. I can’t prove it, but you’re wrong. I just know it.”

  “I understand your frustration. You live in the Berkshire Plaza apartments? I’ll put in a call to the doormen, tell them to be on the lookout for any suspicious characters. That’s really all I can do. It’s a secure building. You’ll be safe there.”

  “And what if she isn’t?” Riley said. “You going to be comfortable with the consequences?”

  “She’ll be fine,” Ramirez said. “Take my card. Call me if you have any problems. I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear something new.”

  “Police,” Riley said, as Agatha took Ramirez’s business card. “Frothing at the mouth to pull you over when you run a stop sign. But when there’s real trouble, good luck finding them.”

  “Listen pal,” Ramirez said, rising from his chair. “I don’t know who you are or what your problem is. But you’re butting your head in where you don’t belong.” He turned to Agatha. “You want my advice? I’d tell you to thank Mr. Riley here for helping you out, and to part ways with him immediately. He seems to me like an unstable element. Just my two cents.”

  Agatha didn’t respond. Just shook Ramirez’s hand, took his business card, and headed back outside, with Riley following close behind.

  “Maybe he’s right,” Riley said. They stood on the marble steps outside the station, the temperature slowly rising as it drew nearer to midday. “I’m an unstable element, for sure. If you want to get rid of me, just say the word.”

  “He’s wrong,” Agatha said. Squinted up at the sky before pulling a pair of dark sunglasses from her purse. Drew what looked like a forgotten cigarette from somewhere beside it and lit it with shaking hands. “You’re the only one who’s got any sort of handle on what’s happening. I don’t know if it’s a case of good luck meets bad luck or what. But I need your help.”

  “All right,” Riley said.

  “All right? You’ll do it? Just like that?”

  “I’ve been doing it, haven’t I? And don’t worry about payment. We can figure that out when this is all settled.”

  “Why?”

  “Because bodyguarding is pretty much what I used to do for a living. I know when things are okay, and when they’re not. And considering the MPD’s lack of concern, I think you’ll be dead by tonight if I don’t.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “I won’t let that happen. I’ve protected VIPs in places a lot more dangerous than downtown DC.”

  Agatha blew out a ream of smoke. Riley watched it twist and curl on the breeze.

  “You’re just one guy. You said yourself, this could be a whole team of people.”

  “But they don’t know who I am. As far as they know, you’re just a lone woman who got saved by dumb luck, a foolhardy passerby. We’ve got the element of surprise.”

  “That doesn’t exactly comfort me.”

  “We’ll work with what we’ve got. At least until Ramirez digs up some more information. Then maybe we can get the FBI involved. We’ll see.”

  “What do we do until then?”

  “First, I need to get a change of clothes. I’ve been wearing the same thing for three days. Then we head to your office. Accounting Magazine, right?”

  “That’s right. But why there?”

  “Because we need to find out who’s after you, and why. It’s a logical place to start. Also, because it’s a nice public building. They could be staking it out. And if they are, we might want them to see you go in.”

  “Why the hell would we want that?”

  Riley smiled. “Gives us some options later. If things get hot.”

  6.

  But a new outfit came first. Riley considered a laundromat, but they didn’t have time to wait around while his clothes tumbled. So they found a department store and he bought a new shirt, pants, and underwear, tossing the old ones. Already feeling like a new man. Then came another cab ride across the river, over to the southeast end of the National Mall.

  The offices of Accounting Magazine were in a fat twenty-story complex called the Fletcher building, home to a litany of businesses. Sleek windows, everything shiny and metallic, modern and angular. Respectable people inside, working respectable jobs. Riley lingered in the lobby for a few minutes, Agatha by his side, and examined the bulletin board that listed the many companies and their respective floors. A doorman in a dark cap stood behind a long desk. People who worked in the building showed their ID badge, and guests signed into a thick ledger. Not the best security system in the world, but not the worst. Riley didn’t think they’d go after Agatha here. Too messy--too many people coming and going, too many chances for a witness to stumble into something. But they could be watching the place. And if so, they’d just seen her come inside with Riley. They had to play it smart from here on in.

  Agatha dug through her purse and showed her ID to the doorman. Explaine
d Riley was a guest of hers. Riley wrote his name down in the ledger and put the time beside it. Accounting Magazine was on the twelfth floor, and they stepped into a waiting elevator.

  “I don’t think they’ll try anything here,” Riley said. “But you see any unfamiliar faces milling around, you let me know, pronto.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Agatha said, staring at her reflection in the elevator door’s glassy sheen. She mussed a few errant curls back into place. “I’ve always felt safe here. Now it’s like I’m being hunted.”

  “What about when Scott was giving you trouble? You weren’t nervous then?”

  “Apprehensive, maybe. But I knew he wasn’t going to pull anything in front of all my co-workers. This is a different story.”

  They reached the twelfth floor and the elevator dinged. They stepped out into a carpeted hallway and Agatha led him through a pair of brown doors into the headquarters of Accounting magazine. A wide office, rows of desks partitioned off into cubicles. Maybe eight or nine people in there, a mix of men and women, working hard, finishing up deadlines or watching the news ticker for breaking stories. Agatha received a few cursory nods, and Riley followed her through the maze of cubicles. The walls were covered with plaques and awards.

  “Which way’s your desk?” Riley asked. Agatha walked over to a workspace near the corner. Windows opened out to a glorious view of the city. Tiny cars and people down below. Agatha’s desk was neat, which didn’t surprise him. Pictures of an older couple he guessed were her parents. No photos of a boyfriend, he noticed. Papers filed orderly in assigned compartments, a white Apple computer with its monitor switched off. Old issues of Accounting Magazine stacked to the side.

  “Just like I left it,” she said. “Nothing’s changed.”

  “I wouldn’t expect them to leave a note. What were the latest stories you were working on?”

  “I told you,” Agatha said, leaning over to boot up the computer. “Nothing dangerous. A story covering the IMF conference in Switzerland. The rising of the Yen against the dollar.”

  “That stuff on here?”

  “I’m finding it as we speak.”

  The computer made its musical starting up noise and hummed to life. Agatha queued up the last few stories she’d worked on, her portfolio outlined on the screen in a virtual book. As she flipped through them, Riley felt inclined to agree with her. Nothing dangerous. Mostly finance jargon, not boring, exactly, to the right person, but not anything to get upset over. Especially since Agatha’s name didn’t appear anywhere on the byline, and her behind-the-scenes role would be known only to a select few at Accounting Magazine. Agatha showed him stories dating back up to a year. Riley stood, scratching his beard.

  “Maybe this has something to do with your blog, after all,” he said finally. “Seems like whoever was following you was at least familiar with it. Can you bring that up for me here? I’ll have a look.”

  But before she could, a woman appeared behind them.

  “Hello, Agatha. Everything all right in here?”

  She was small, with graying hair tied back in an austere bun. A pair of gold-colored glasses hid friendly but sharp eyes. She gave Riley a quizzical look.

  “Hi Liz.” Agatha turned away from her computer to face the two of them. “Riley, this is Liz Farber, editor-in-chief.”

  He shook her hand.

  “Clay Riley.”

  “How do you do.” Obvious she wanted to know who he was and what he was doing, but she didn’t ask, maybe out of politeness. A principled air around her. She leaned in over Agatha’s shoulders, peering at the screen. “Taking a trip down memory lane, are we?”

  “There’s been some trouble,” Riley said. “It may have to do with Agatha’s role here.”

  Farber straightened. Put a hand against her mouth.

  “Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

  “I’m sorry, I should explain,” Agatha said. Stress compounding on her face, like she now had to worry about losing her job on top of everything else. “Something happened yesterday, when I was going to that construction company for an interview. Riley is working for me as kind of a private detective. He just wanted to see where I worked, go over a few things.”

  “Should we go into my office?” Farber asked. Suddenly concerned.

  “Sure,” Riley said. “If it makes you more comfortable.”

  Farber’s office was a far cry from Agatha’s tidy workspace. Books and papers were piled everywhere--on the ground, on shelves, on her desk. Scattered in a way that suggested Farber had more work than free time. She cleared space for them and they sat.

  “Long story short, there’s been an abduction attempt,” Riley said. Agatha opened her mouth to elaborate, and Riley shot her a look. He didn’t want too much information getting out, too soon. Wanted to see what Farber knew before the situation was explained to her.

  “An abduction? Oh my. It’s Peter, isn’t it? I knew it. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him for weeks.”

  Riley smiled inwardly.

  Finally, he thought. We’re getting somewhere.

  “Pete Saccarelli?” Agatha asked.

  “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? I had a feeling something was wrong.”

  Riley turned to Agatha, questions on his face.

  “Pete’s a reporter here,” Agatha said. “But he’s gone most of the time. He does international stories. Not unusual for him to be away for months.”

  “Yes,” Farber said. “And he hasn’t replied to my emails, which in the past he’d been good about even if he was on another continent.”

  “Where was Pete assigned to last?” Riley asked.

  Farber shrugged.

  “Nowhere,” she said. “Ostensibly, he was here in DC. On vacation.”

  “So maybe he’s just avoiding work, trying to relax. Can’t fault a guy for not returning his boss’s calls during his time off.”

  Farber shook her head. “That’s not how Peter operated. Even during his vacations he’d be sending me new leads, new story ideas. His brain worked in overdrive. Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t stop him.”

  “When was the last time you heard from him?”

  “I told you. A few weeks ago. He said he’d found a lead for a story that was really promising. Claimed it would be a huge scoop for Accounting, win us all kinds of awards.”

  “And then he disappeared,” Riley said. “You don’t find that strange?”

  Agatha turned to him.

  “If you knew Pete...” she started.

  “Every email from Pete was like that,” Farber said. “Every story was the one that would break us wide open, make his career. So you can forgive me if I didn’t think this was anything out of the ordinary. And considering he’s on vacation, you can understand why I didn’t run to the police. But he’s never been out of contact for this long.”

  “What was the story?” Riley asked.

  Farber shook her head. “He didn’t say. Not even a vague outline. I assume that whatever it was, it was still germinating inside his head. And to be frank, I’m not even sure I should be discussing this with you anymore. I think this just became a matter for the police.”

  “It’s all right,” Agatha said. “Riley is working with the police. You can trust him.”

  “You must have sensed something was wrong,” Farber said. “Is that why you hired him? I know you and Peter had something going on.”

  Riley turned to Agatha, eyebrows raised. Color burning her cheeks.

  “We did not,” Agatha said defensively. “We went on two dates. Outside of work, I barely knew him.”

  Farber nodded quickly.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be accusatory. But if this isn’t about Peter, then what is it? Who was abducted?”

  “As far as we know, nobody,” Riley said. “But there might be a connection between Agatha and this Peter guy. She might be in danger.”

  “Oh my goodness.” Ms. Farber ran her hands over the phone on her desk, sli
pping it from its cradle. “I should really get in contact with the authorities.”

  “You could,” Riley said. “But we’ve already spoken with them. Unless you have any new information, I doubt they’ll be able to help us much. Doesn’t seem likely they’ll beat the band to hunt down Peter Saccarelli. Not with his history of disappearing for weeks on end.”

  “They can search his apartment,” Agatha suggested. “See if he’s been there recently.”

  Riley nodded. Not a bad idea. But he wasn’t going to wait for the cops to draw up a warrant. Whoever Peter Saccarelli was, he was sounding more and more interesting. Riley wanted to check out his place before the police screwed things up.

  “Did you and Peter work together often?” Riley asked Agatha.

  “Not really. Peter’s articles were always long and took a lot of time to cross check. I didn’t really work with him when I was still learning the trade.”

  “Nothing he did that jumps out at you?”

  She shook her head.

  “He have a computer here?”

  She shook her head again. “Peter had his own laptop. Took it with him everywhere. His office was so disused we just eventually just gave it to an intern.”

  Riley nodded

  “I’ll compile all of Peter’s recent stories,” Ms. Farber continued. “He liked to stir the muck. I know that much. But nothing I could think of that would have anybody going after him.”

  “Appreciate it,” Riley said.

  “What else? What should I do?”

  “Nothing,” Riley said. “Talk to the police and give them your story if you want, but aside from that, I wouldn’t act any differently.”

  “I feel as if I should send everyone home.”

  “Don’t bother,” Riley said. He wanted her to keep up appearances. He was also thinking: If there was anything pertinent at the Accounting Magazine offices, these people would have found it by now. “You hear anything, call Agatha. You have her cell, right?”