Dead Even - Mariah Stewart [26]
It had been several months before she’d seen him again.
Will appeared as if out of the air and plunked a file down on an empty chair. “I’ll just grab a cup from the buffet, and I’ll be right back.”
Miranda moved the window curtain aside and watched the neighborhood kids gather at the bus stop on the opposite side of the street.
“So what’s your plan, Agent Fletcher?” she asked when Will returned.
He sipped slowly at his coffee, then set the cup back into the saucer. “We’ve already agreed that we need to identify people from Channing’s past who may have irritated him sufficiently that he might have wanted a little revenge. Other than Albert Unger, of course.”
“Right. And I suppose you’ve come up with a means of identifying them?”
“I’ve come up with a starting point.”
“Which would be . . . ?”
“I think we need to start at the beginning, with Claire Channing.”
“Curtis’s foster mother.” Miranda nodded. “Good choice. She might know of someone from his past who had done something that Channing might have wanted revenge for.”
“And from there, we move on to Albert Unger. We can stop and see him while we’re in Ohio. Maybe he’ll know of someone Channing had a problem with.”
“Unger, yes. I guess that’s as good a place as any. I don’t recall there being too many other people from his past mentioned in the file.”
“There wasn’t anyone else mentioned. Just these two.”
“So when would you like to go?”
“You tell me. You’re in charge of the case.” He drained his cup and, without waiting for her reply, pushed his chair back and returned to the buffet for a refill.
“Is that bothering you?” she asked when he sat down again. “That John made me the lead on this case?”
“No, not at all. It makes perfect sense. You know the players. You have the history.”
She stared at him.
“And you’re a damned good investigator. You’re a natural for this one, Cahill. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He smiled. “So. You make the call. What next?”
“We go to Ohio. We chat with Mrs. Channing, Mr. Unger. I don’t know that either of them will have much to contribute. Channing left home as soon as he graduated from high school, and I don’t think he’s seen Unger since the man was arrested for murdering his mother. But since we have nowhere else to start, I say, let’s break out those frequent flyer miles and give it a shot.” She finished her coffee. “I’ll check in with John and let him know what we’re doing. Meanwhile, I have a meeting with the chief of the Fleming Police Department.”
Miranda slid her purse from the back of the chair where she’d hung it, then stood.
“So, while you’re finishing your breakfast and getting ready to leave, I’m going to have a chat about Archer Lowell.”
“You’re going to ask him to keep an eye on Archer for us while we’re gone?”
“Her.” Miranda grinned. “I’m going to ask her to keep an eye on him for us.”
“Sure you don’t want me to come along?”
“What for? I think I can handle a conversation with the local chief all by myself. Good to know you’re here, though, in case I need backup.”
“Well, then, I guess I have time to sample the eggs Benedict, after all.” He looked pleased at the prospect.
“Just as long as you’re ready to roll when I get back.”
“You know where to find me.” He smiled and returned to the buffet.
The Fleming Police Department was housed in what must have been at one time an elegant private home. Of course, that time had been well over a hundred years ago. Fleming had an abundance of old buildings, and it appeared to Miranda that the borough had made an effort to repurpose as many of them as possible.
Chief of Police Veronica Carson was waiting, as promised, promptly at eight-fifteen.
“So, Special Agent Cahill,” the chief said after Miranda had introduced herself, “what can the Fleming PD do for the FBI?”
Ignoring the tiny bite in the question, Miranda sat where she’d been directed to sit.
“Actually, I’m here to share information with you.” Miranda crossed her legs and settled