“Not for long enough,” Jethro pointed out. Yet they were correct that Fletcher had chosen to mess with him on purpose. “I need to keep my distance from the team. While taking out people without a reason isn’t his thing, I don’t want to put any of you in danger.”
“No,” Wolfe said, stretching his long legs to crossat the ankles.
Nari munched on a piece of celery. “I agree. We’re already on Fletcher’s radar, so taking a leave of absence from us wouldn’t fool him. He knows you’re part of the team, and at this point it appears he has learned our identities. The question is, what’shis next move?”
Wolfe tipped back his beer. “It sounds like his next move is to kill people and make more money.”
“Agreed,” Jethro said. “While leaving me notes like Lassiter did you.” Frustration crawled like ants beneath his skin; he forced his body to relax and then reachedfor a cracker.
Angus slipped his arm around Nari. “I’m having trouble on the international front getting his records from his time in prison. I’d love to see who communicated with him and if he had any dustups.”
“Nobody communicated with him and there were no recorded dustups,” Jethro said. “Fletcher would’ve at least looked the perfect prisoner to the authorities. He only escaped because of a routine transfer that he shouldn’t have known about. He was going from one prison to another as a result of planned remodeling, and he was to be questioned again. Which meant that Fletcher had somehow known of that in enough time to plan an escape.”
“He killed two guards while escaping,” Angus said. “That’s all the information I could get.”
“The kills were necessary for him to escape,” Jethro said. “No emotion and no regret for my brother. In addition, whoever helped him, somebody to whom he no doubt paid a substantial sum, is also certainly dead. Either in the UK or here. Doesn’t matter. Those bodies won’t be found because they weren’t contract killings.” Was it a testament to the damnation of his soul that he could speak so strategically and objectively about his murderous brother? Most likely.
His phone buzzed, and upon seeing Brigid’s pretty face on the screen, he answered the call. “Hi, Brigid. You’re on speakerphone and I’m at Angus andNari’s house.”
“Perfect,” she said. “You can use their flat-screen to watch this. The deep dive didn’t take me long. Your womanis smart, Jet.”
“She’s not my woman and I already know that she’s intelligent,” Jethro said, certain there was no way he could talk Brigid into giving him the report confidentially. He sighed. “What didyou find out?”
“Nari? I’m connecting my laptop to your flat-screen remotely. Let me know when I’m up.” She waited patiently.
Nari turned on the flat-screen, clicked several buttons, and Brigid’s laptop screen took shape. Wow. That was cool. “We’re up and can see your screen,” she said.
“Excellent,” Brigid said, and several file folders clicked across the screen until one opened. “Meet Gemma Salsbury, born in Los Angeles to Fran Salsbury, father unknown.” A picture of Gemma from a high school yearbook came up on the screen. Her brunette hair was long and curly and her blue eyes were crystal clear. She looked young and full of life. “There are several arrest warrants for Fran, mainly for public intoxication.” Brigid clicked a button and a woman with Gemma’s facial features took shape. In the mugshot, Fran looked worn down and her blue eyes were cloudy.
Jethro set down his beer. “Keep going.”
Brigid remotely brought up a picture of Gemma with several other students in front of a brick building. A college? “Gemma earned a full ride to Washington Tech outside of Seattle and graduated with her master’s degree by the time she was twenty-two. I found this picture on social media.” She clicked through several shots. “There are several pictures of Gemma with this man, but neither of them now have social media accounts.” A young man came into view: dark brown hair, intense eyes, broad shoulders.
“Who is he?” Jethro asked, noting the similarity to Trudy’s eye shape. He was trained to spot similarities like that.
“Dr. Monty Cameron,” Brigid said, clicking through several photographs of the doctor at his clinic and in the town of Seaville. “Here’s their engagement announcement.” A photograph of the doctor and a young Gemma came up. Both were smiling in front of acopse of trees.
Jethro took a hit to the chest, not bothering to examine why the image bothered him so much. “Theywere married?”
“No. Not that I can see.” Brigid clicked through several different state documents, her voice distant over the line. “There’s nothing more on Gemma Salsbury until about three or so months after this photo was taken, when she legally changed her name to Gemma Peterson in Texas.” A new driver’s license, this one with Gemma as a redhead, came into focus.
“I take it there’s a medical record of Gemma Peterson giving birth?” Jethro asked, thrumming his fingers on his thigh.
Brigid cleared her throat. “No. She changed her name again to Frances Mitchell about five months later, while living in South Dakota.” She brought up a birth certificate from the state of Maine. “Frances Mitchell gave birth to a baby girl, naming the father as a Douglas Mitchell. I haven’t found a record of any Douglas Mitchell who could’ve been the father.”
“She made up the name,” Nari said softly. “If anybody not as good as Brigid searched for births for unwed mothers, this one would not have popped up because she named a father.”
Brigid sighed. “Exactly. She’s really smart. She named the baby Beatrix Mitchell. Then she moved to Iowa and changed both of their names to Gemma and Trudy Falls. From what I can tell, most of her employment has been under the table.”
Jethro sat back, his mind on the good doctor. “Any medical reports from her time withMonty Cameron?”
“No,” Brigid said, her tone darkening. “But he is a doctor.” She clicked through several more documents. “He has hired a total of five private detectives to find Gemma, paying quite a lot to each. One nearly found her in Florida at the beginning of the spring, but she got away. His report doesn’t specify that she had a child.” Brigid paused for a moment. “I don’t think he knows.”
Wolfe looked at the screen. “Is there any recordfor this guy?”
“Just one from high school,” Brigid said, bringing up an arrest record. “He beat the hell out of his girlfriend.” A picture came up of a young brunette with bruises across her face and a cast on her arm. “It was a first offense, and he pleaded it out. The girl and her family didn’t pursue the issue, so I can’t find the details online.”
“I don’t need the details,” Jethro said grimly. The picture was more than complete. “Where is the doctor now?”
