If I Should Die_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [59]
She winced at his tone, but understood. A message popped up on Lucy’s screen. It was from Noah.
Call me when you’re done with Candela.
She said, “Based on the appearance of the body, I think she was frozen. Not in a freezer, but naturally, in the underground mine. No freezer burn or ice that indicates a mechanical unit was involved in any way, and because her body was flat—arranged that way, would be my guess, based on the positioning of her arms—I’m guessing she was down there prior to full rigor. Meaning, less than twelve hours after her death.”
“Was there any sign of a struggle or injuries?”
“No outward cause of death. No bruising around the neck to indicate strangulation—though, to be honest, I don’t know how or if freezing would impact her appearance.”
While she was talking, Sean walked in. He was about to speak, but saw she was on the phone.
“Send me the photos,” Candela ordered.
“Of course.” She had already downloaded the photos to Sean’s laptop. She zipped them into one file.
Candela gave her his email, then said, “I need the name and contact information of all people involved in the search for Agent Sheffield.”
Lucy typed everything she had in the email as she told him the same information. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch,” he said, then hung up.
Lucy turned to Sean. “Well, that was Albany FBI. ASAC Candela.” She shook her head, still trying to absorb all the information Candela did share with her. “I identified the body. Victoria Sheffield. She was an FBI agent.”
Sean sat across from her. “FBI? What was she doing here?”
“He wouldn’t say. I think he was surprised. She disappeared between December twenty-third and January second.”
“A Fed is missing and it’s not plastered on the national news?”
She turned the laptop around and showed Sean the missing persons report. “It doesn’t even say she’s a federal agent in the report. There’s nothing about her, other than her photo and description.”
“If they didn’t want anyone knowing she was a Fed, maybe they have an active investigation.”
“He didn’t give me any details.”
Sean stood and looked out the window. It was getting late, the sun was setting to the southwest, and Lucy wondered what had him so preoccupied. Usually he preferred to talk out possible scenarios.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I found the arsonist. His name is Ricky Swain.”
She leaned forward, palms hitting the desk. “Swain?”
“The son of Paul Swain.”
“What happened?”
“After I went to Canton—which was mostly a wasted trip—I made a detour to Colton and waited until school got out. I spotted him and ran the plates.”
Lucy raised an eyebrow as Sean related what had happened at James Benson’s house.
“What did you find in Benson’s house?” she asked, ignoring the obvious fact that it had been an illegal search.
“Letters from Ricky’s dead mother. One in particular stands out.” He plugged his cell phone into his laptop, scrolled through, then turned the screen to face her. “Read this.”
Lucy scanned the image of the letter, not only absorbing the information it contained, but wondering if this beautiful but sad letter was partly the cause of an uneasy vibe she was getting from Sean.
“What do you think Abigail meant by the card her husband had to play? And why would their son be in danger?” Lucy frowned, looking at the letter again. “If we take what she’s writing at face value, she was genuinely concerned about her son’s safety.”
“It’s vague, but Ricky must know who the ‘monster’ is.”
Lucy reread the letter slowly. Three sentences stood out.
He will do everything to protect you. Anything to keep you away from the Swains.
Your father told the monster that he would destroy her if anyone hurt you.
“Sean, why would Abigail write that her brother Jimmy would do anything to keep Ricky away from the Swains? Ricky is a Swain.” Lucy added, “And the monster she writes about is a woman.”
“Patrick found only two female Swains in the immediate family,” Sean said. “The woman who married Butch and the younger sister.”
Lucy looked at the notes from Patrick. “Kathy Davis