Pretty Broken Dolls by Jennifer Chase
Chapter Forty-Two
Friday 1345 hours
Katie found herself standing in front of Special Agent Campbell’s suite at the local inn—once again. The sun was out, warming her back, and there were very few clouds in the sky. She stood for several seconds enjoying the warmth and formulating her thoughts, determined to prioritize her reason and not her emotions. She wanted to talk to the agent before she reported the situation to her uncle, but she wanted to get some answers first.
McGaven stood next to her, not quite knowing what to expect, but he was her partner through good and bad situations—this was no different.
Katie knocked on the door loudly three times.
The door opened and Agent Campbell stood there. “Detectives. To what do I owe this honor?” he said and smiled.
Katie pushed her way inside. “We need to talk.”
“Okay,” he said, looking confused.
McGaven followed Katie inside.
Rookie Agent Haley was sitting at one of the computers. “Hello, Detective Scott,” she said cheerfully. “Nice to see you and McGaven.” She took a moment to make eye contact with him.
“Would you mind giving us a few minutes?” Katie asked the younger agent.
“Uh, of course. I have an errand to run anyway.” Turning to her superior, she said, “It might take a bit longer.”
He nodded to her.
Katie waited until the agent had left and she’d heard her walk away.
“Do I look stupid to you?” she demanded.
“Of course not. What’s this all about?”
“Let’s just start with… how long have you been on suspension from these cases?”
“Now, it’s technically not a suspension—”
“You’re working cases on your own terms,” she said, gesturing to the command center he had created. “Without anyone to report to. You’ve scammed Sheriff Scott. You’ve been tracking me like I’m some type of prey for your serial cases. Are you really who you say you are?”
Campbell waved his hands in “calm down” motion. “Take it easy. There are simple explanations.”
“I would have every right to report to Sheriff Scott right at this moment. Tell me why I shouldn’t. Tell me.” In the heat of the moment, Katie wanted to rip all the photos off the wall and shred the file folders. She stopped herself from letting her emotions run wild—taking two deep breaths.
“First, let me explain. I was in charge of these cases and when my team reached a dead end, everything started to go sideways. Due to politics and pressure from people in high places, I was given an ultimatum: either I bring in a viable suspect or I take a leave of absence. Simple as that.”
“Why would they do that?” she said.
“You don’t understand. This case was high profile and our overall case closure rate was down—even lower than the state’s average.” He sat down.
Katie’s anger lessened, but she still didn’t trust him.
“There were internal problems. Supervisors that were taking advantage of cases and more interested in climbing the ladder than finding killers.”
“Why didn’t you come clean right away?” asked McGaven.
“I know how this must look to you both. But my career was on the line. I had no more leads, no more help except for Dawn and she’s more of an administrative assistant than another agent. She took her own personal time to help me—she knows the cases backwards and forwards. I had nowhere to turn. I ran out of options.”
“I don’t know what to say,” said Katie. She understood wanting to solve a case and bring closure for the friends and family of the victim. She understood that better than most, but still, she didn’t know what to do about Campbell.
“I thought it was all over for me, my career, until Dawn showed me some articles on how you’d solved some of the toughest cold cases in Sequoia County. So I started to shadow you—to find out for myself if you would be what these cases needed. And I was right—I still think you’re the right person—both of you—to solve these cases.”
Katie couldn’t keep her focus away from the cases plastered all over the walls and around the room—the connections, subtle differences, and the lives these women could have had. She perused the photos of victims, headshots, crime scenes, and thought about the fact that they were all connected by one common thread—military K9 handlers. Then she saw the photo of herself at the Jared Stanton crime scene near the pond—it tugged at her heart and her soul how important it was to close cold cases—now, more than ever.
“I have one important question,” she said, not bothering to turn around to look at Agent Campbell. “No more games. Tell me the truth. Understand?”
“Of course.”
The room went quiet. The tension built and both men waited, their focus on Katie, for her to defuse it.
“Did you clone my phone, or spoof it, and have you been sending me text messages purporting to be from people I know?” She turned around. “I want the truth, Agent Campbell. Professional to professional.”
He shook his head. “No, I did not do anything of the sort.” His look was solemn but it was difficult to tell if he was speaking the truth or not. “I did not clone your phone. Why would I?”
“I guess we have to take you at your word.” She still didn’t completely believe him.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I’m going back to work and then I’m going to dinner tonight with my friend. I’m not making any decisions on this right now.”
Katie didn’t say another word or look at the agent as she walked out the door.
Once the door was shut and Katie had descended the stairs, McGaven spoke. “You made a good decision.”
“Think so?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Good.”
Katie opened the door of the police sedan. “Let’s get back to work. We need to figure out what’s going on with my phone. I wanted to ask Agent Campbell, but I’ll wait.” Glancing up, she saw Agent Campbell standing on the balcony watching them. He gave a subtle nod. To Katie, it was either a nod of respect and a thank you—or it was a warning.