The Profiler Read online

  “Maybe I’m the one who’s confused,” Philip states, looking into my eyes with sincerity. “Sorry. I just assumed you were related or something. The guy who brought in Judas was also a David. Agent Joshua David.”

  Chapter 14

  “Right. That’s the last of them. We’ll be right over.” Severo closes up his cell phone after his conversation with Cain. His hand wraps around mine as they meet on the console of the Jeep, and he lets out a throaty sigh before facing me.

  “Cain’s going to talk with Captain Delaney, get some squad cars out there and find these other apostles before Jude has a chance. Angie,” he says, squishing my tense, balled fist. “Right now our priority is saving those men’s lives. But as soon as we know they’re safe, we’re going to find Jude Barnaby. Got it?”

  “I can’t believe it,” I say, my voice evidence of the shock I’m in. “He’s after me because my father locked him up? What the hell is that going to prove? What kind of kicks is he getting from this? It makes no sense.”

  “Don’t, Angie. Don’t try to make sense of this man’s actions. There is none,” Severo argues, turning the ignition of the Jeep so we can get off this prison ground and back to work.

  “It’s like what Philip Martin said in there, Ang. Jude’s after vengeance for those who shook up his plans, that’s all. Your father being the one who put him away years ago? I’d say Jude’s just as bitter and pissed as the day he was locked up. He wants to make your life hell, because that’s what your father did to him. And rightly so.”

  “So why not just come straight after me? Why bother with all the rest of it?”

  “If he feels betrayed by his fellow apostle players for ditching him when things turned sour, he has more than one score to settle. You’re probably just the icing on his cake.”

  Severo is right. If everything Philip Martin said holds true, and there’s no reason he would need to lie, my father was the one who put an end to the Apostles of Peace the day he got Barnaby locked up. Some peacekeepers they were.

  “How do good people get involved in such bad shit?” I ask, twisting in my seat to relieve the tension. “That man we just spoke to, that man on death row…he did wrong, I’m not saying he didn’t. But you saw it, Severo. He really did have good intentions at one point. How does that happen to people?”

  “That’s just how it works, Angie.” His tone is soft against the ever-increasing rain, which is apparently not letting up today. It’s now just after noon. The rain’s been falling for hours, and this Monday is evidently living up to the gloomy reputation.

  “I see it all the time, and you will, too. It only takes one wrong move, doing something stupid without thinking. People get in trouble, and then while trying to get out of their mess, they end up causing more damage along the way. It’s like they get caught in a ripple effect.”

  Philip Martin may have robbed banks and shot cops while trying to escape, but behind those imprisoned eyes I saw the man he once was. He got involved with these men because he wanted his neighborhood to be a better, safer place. There’s irony in that. It’s a shame, for what people feel they have to do to feel safe in their own backyards.

  “I know it may not seem like it, but there is good news,” the detective says, now picking up speed along the north end of the expressway. “At least we know this Judas guy isn’t necessarily trying to kill you. He just wants to make your life hell, for what your father did to him.”

  “Yeah, great news,” I say, swallowing the reality. “What I don’t get, though, is how he knew I’d be on this case. How could he have known I’d end up working it?”

  “Nothing is random, Angie. We know that with this guy. Hell, for all we know he was waiting on this, just letting it boil within him, until you came back to the city. If he knew you were Joshua David’s daughter, he must have known you’d come back someday. For all we know, he just sat tight until that day came, like a bomb waiting to go off,” he says, theorizing the possibilities.

  “Whatever it took for him to remain patient,” Severo explains, “you know this guy’s been planning the whole thing for a long time. There was a lot of detailing to do, and this plan of his didn’t happen overnight.”

  “And then what?” I ask, realizing we may never know the full story. “He followed me from day one? Was he there when I unlocked my apartment door for the first time last week? Was he there the first day I signed in at the Plaza?”

  “Angie, listen to me. There was nothing you could have done to stop this guy from doing what he aimed to do.” Severo’s eyes peer at me briefly, trying to make eye contact while still focusing on the road ahead. “Yes, he followed you. From the shelter. From the campus library. Wherever. Just don’t underestimate what he would have done to make sure this fell out exactly how he wanted. He’s likely been planning this since the day they put him away.”

  “But this started out as your case, Severo,” I argue, trying to pinpoint which of my actions led Judas right to me.

  “Yeah, and he probably knows the system well enough to know exactly where to leave a dead body. Killarney lived in my precinct. If the killer saw us together, even once, he may have started with a murder that would catch the attention of both of us. I don’t know. But I’ll tell you one thing,” he says, as we speed back into the main artery of the city streets. “You’re going to have the opportunity to ask him that yourself.”

  Back at the Plaza, Cain is talking with some other agents in the common area, but instructs the detective and me to wait in the office. Severo decides to call his captain, and I take a moment to check in with Denise, who was kind enough to keep an eye on Muddy for me today.

  Severo said he didn’t want to leave keys to his loft with any of his neighbors, which I can appreciate, and I knew Denise would welcome the invitation to have a place in my life, even if only to watch the dog.

  I feel bad for Muddy, being shuffled around these past few days, but being the good friend he is, he seems to adapt well enough. I suppose, too, he remembers Denise, as she wasn’t necessarily a stranger when my father was alive.

  “He’s doing just fine,” she says, reassuring me I’d made a good decision. “I’m just glad I had the day off to help out, Angie.”

  “I want you to know I appreciate it. Denise, I realize I haven’t been the friendliest with you, now or in the past, and I apologize for that,” I say, my words filled with sincerity. “I wish I would have been more accepting of you being with my father. I just…well, I hope you forgive me for being such an ass.”

  “Angie,” she says, her tone soft and warm. “You were always the gem in your father’s life. I didn’t mind taking second place to you, and I know you always meant well for him. Though I acknowledge your apology, and am so happy to open my arms to you, there is no need for that now, okay? It’s been too hard on all of us these past few months. Let’s put that behind us now.”

  “Fair enough. Give Muddy a big hug for me,” I say, relieved to get that discomfort over with. “And save one for me.”

  As I close up my cell phone, I notice Severo smiling at me. “Good for you,” he says, and I realize he must have heard some of that conversation.

  “Yeah, well, I guess there’s enough for me to deal with without keeping that wall between me and Denise. She’s a good person. Always has been. I should have just accepted that from the start.”

  Cain pushes through the glass door, closes it behind him and looks to me and then the detective. “Have a seat.”

  Severo and I pull up a pair of office chairs and I unpack my tape recorder from our meeting with Philip Martin so Cain can hear all of what was discussed.

  As Severo retrieves his files with the notes from our session, he nods to Cain, getting right to the point. “What about the others? You get to them all on time?”

  Cain sits on the edge of the coffee service counter, shaking his head as though he doesn’t seem all that enthused we’ve made this progress.

  “Yeah, between your captain and me we ran all the
names, found their whereabouts and put out the cars to get them out of harm’s way. All of them are in a safe house as we speak, while we figure out what to do with them.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, feeling like I’m missing out on a point. “They’re all safe, right?”

  “They are. A few have records worth looking into. A couple have been active lately and we’ll need to follow that up, as well, but that’ll be for NYPD to work on.”

  “We’ll need to question a number of them,” Severo adds, and I keep my ears alert to the process that will bring down Jude Barnaby. “Though Philip Martin provided a solid testimony for us, we’ll need to hear it from the others just to cover all the bases for when this guy goes in for sentencing.”

  Cain reaches over to the coffee carafe to fill up his mug, and I sense there is more unease within him today regarding this case than there was before we even knew our target.

  “What is it, Cain?”

  He slurps at his mug, tapping a foot against the gray carpet, and when he looks at me, his eyes are serious and his irises wide. “I’m more than a bit concerned with what the detective here told me. About Jude Barnaby seeking revenge for being put away by your father.”

  “So what? We go after him, we nab him, case closed.”

  Wheeling up an office chair to take a seat, my mentor shuffles closer to me, his emotions calm but strangely freaking me out. I’ve never seen him so tense.

  “We will do just that, kiddo. However, he may not be so easy to find. Right now we have undercovers out in the East Village, going up and down every single street, seeing what options we may have to his whereabouts. Chances are, if he is watching you as he has been, he’ll know we’re after him and he may have already fled. Or worse.”

  I shift in my seat, look to Severo, then back to Cain. “What do you mean, worse?”

  “He’s made it very clear he’s more than a little upset at those who destroyed his hopes and dreams, regardless of how idiotic they may seem to us,” Cain explains, moving his chair closer to mine so he is sitting directly in front of me. “If he thinks he can act out his revenge against your father—God rest his soul—by causing harm to you, we may need to keep a watchful eye to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

  Severo gets up to pour coffee for the two of us, and as he does, I absorb my mentor’s words and those Severo shared on the way back from Ossining. “But if all he wanted to do was kill me, he would have found a way days ago. Severo says this guy probably wants to play a game, make me fall into his panic trap or whatever, and if that’s the case, I say bring it on.”

  “Angie, you cannot play on the same level as this guy,” my mentor says, placing his hands on the arms of my chair, urging me to hear his words. “Don’t let yourself get sucked into it. He may or may not have bigger plans with you, but we cannot afford to take that chance.”

  “You’re not suggesting she move off this case,” Severo asks, handing me a warm mug. “If he wants her, Cain, our best bet is to keep her on this, where we can watch his moves.”

  “And use me as bait,” I say, offering myself up if that’s what it would take to get this asshole off the streets.

  “That’s not what I’m saying,” Cain says, raising his hands in the air. “Not at all. However…” His eyes look directly into mine. “You just need to beware, kiddo. There’s more to this than we could have ever imagined.”

  I look at Severo, who clearly has the same reaction I do. “What? What is it?”

  Cain gets up to pull some paperwork from a file. “I don’t know how to tell you this.” He speaks slowly, cautiously, as he takes a seat on the edge of the wooden desk. “But the lab found something. Something we weren’t expecting.”

  “Cain, what the hell?”

  “That rosary of yours? The one he gave you, the same one that was lying on your kitchen table? It had blood on it.”

  “From Paul Aaron White.” I state the obvious.

  “But the cross on that rosary had a twist-off compartment, Angie. Kind of like a little vial, or something.”

  Severo pulls the lab report from Cain’s hand and his face goes blank as he reads the findings. My patience is running low. “Well?”

  “It turns out, kiddo… The blood found in the rosary matches up to a sample our office kept on file, in the personnel department.” Cain scrunches down in front of me, looking at me on eye level.

  “Angie, I’m sorry, kiddo. But that blood matches up with a sample belonging to your father.”

  Chapter 15

  I can take no more news today. Not when every fresh piece of information that comes to light makes this case more and more about my father.

  “How?” I demand. “How did he get my father’s blood?”

  Severo crouches down beside me, resting a palm on my shoulder, and I instinctively reach a hand to his, desperate to feel something good in the face of all this bad news.

  “There’s a possibility, kiddo,” Cain says, getting back up to lean again on the coffee service counter. “That Jude Barnaby may have been involved in your father’s death.”

  “How is that possible? My father was shot in the line of duty, after getting in between some kids during a robbery. It makes no sense, Cain. If it was Judas who shot him, why the hell is he seeking revenge with me now? And what about that kid who’s doing time for murder? Is he suddenly innocent?”

  Severo’s tone is serious but calm as he remains beside me. “Did you look into Agent David’s case files? See what it was he was up to the night he died?”

  “Yeah, that I did,” Cain says, handing copies of the file work to the detective. Severo spreads them out on my desk and we lean in to review them together. “It seems just before Agent David was killed, he was working on something related to Jude Barnaby. And yes, he was working undercover that night, kiddo.”

  “Then we have to look further into that,” Severo says.

  Cain nods, and adds, “But Judas, if that’s what we’re supposed to call him, seems to have been up to no good from the day he got back out on the streets. My take on it is your father probably found out something new to work with, something that would put old Barnaby back behind bars.”

  “Philip Martin did say that Judas was in on a deal with a badge,” Severo mentions, straightening up to walk around the desk. “Some sort of hush arrangement. Maybe Agent David had a lead on this. But what about that day? And those kids?” he asks, and I sort through the files to find the report.

  It’s an odd feeling, reading the official statements on my father’s death. Of course, the details were provided to me over the phone, when I was informed of what happened, immediately after the fact. At one point I was shown the brief reports outlining the highlights of that night. I also heard the story retold to me by coworkers filling the void of silence at my father’s funeral in July. And more than once, I’ve thought about that fateful night. But seeing the reports for myself, without any of the details missing, is another thing altogether.

  “There’s nothing to suggest Barnaby was there, let alone the shooter,” Severo says, and I have to agree. My father was working an undercover operation that night, the reports confirm, and got caught off guard when some young thieves happened to be conducting a petty robbery in the same neighborhood.

  The official statement is that a stray bullet, not necessarily intended for my father, made its final stop pushing through his throat, where too much blood loss led to his death. From the files, I know my father was wearing a bulletproof vest that night on account of his operation, but there’s not much anyone can do when the windpipe is busted and lungs fill with blood instead of oxygen.

  My eyelids close, as I fear the tears welling up will soon release down my cheeks. This graphic information must not interfere with my ability to see this case for what it is.

  I’ve been working at grasping the knowledge that a minor, with a history of shooting cops, accidentally took down my father. And now with this possibility? No matter where that shot came from, it was a
n accident.

  The only way someone could have purposely made a precise hit through the throat like that would be if they were standing right in front of my father. With his instincts and abilities, added to the situation described in the reports, there is no way that was a possibility. It would have taken more than one person to hold down my father, and the CSU investigators who followed up that scene would have realized it, if it had gone down like that. But it didn’t.

  “Which still doesn’t answer our question,” I say, clearing my throat to restore my focus. “Where Judas could have got ahold of my father’s blood.”

  “Kiddo, there’s no telling what this guy has done either in the past or in the present.” Cain’s eyes are soft in consideration of my pain. “The only thing we know right now, for sure, is that he has a mind to settle the score with you, as your father’s daughter. He likely wants to set things straight with the David name, once and for all.”

  “If that’s the case,” Severo says, his tone harsh and somewhat agitated, “Angie’s not the only one in danger.”

  I huddle in my seat, staring at the detective to measure his innuendo. “What do you mean?”

  “I agree,” Cain says, gathering his personal belongings. “Angie? Don’t get alarmed now, but I think the detective here is trying to say we should also keep an eye on your family.”

  “What? Why? It’s me he wants. It was my father who put Jude away. Why doesn’t he just come after me, damn it!”

  “Shh,” Severo says, hushing my anger as I feel my face tense up and color flush my skin. “Just as a precaution. We should make sure your uncle and your grandmother are not at risk. There’s no way to know, or control, what this guy has on his agenda. And Simon shares a name with an apostle.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Cain says, nodding to the door. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s put your mind to rest. We’ll get this bastard one way or another. Hopefully before he has a chance to do any more damage.”