Daylight (Atlee Pine, #3)(49)

“No, it’s fine. I already ate.” She sat down and looked at her boss.

Pine read everything in the woman’s eyes. “I know, Carol. I know. I have to be more careful.” She took a few minutes to fill Blum in on what had happened to Puller.

“My God! So I assume you’ve talked to him?”

“Just now. He said his cat saved him.”

“Good cats do, you know,” replied Blum matter-of-factly. Pine’s expression darkened. “A woman is dead because of me, Carol. And I have to make that right.”

“I had already anticipated that you would say that. But I’ll tell you what I told you back in Andersonville. You’re here to find out what happened to your sister. And while the two cases may have some tangential connections, you could spend all your time on one, solve it, and make no progress on your sister.”

“I had thought about that. But I can’t just let this go. A young kid with a great future is dead. I saw him die. A young woman who was out at a party had her head nearly cut off. And I think she was chosen as a victim so that I could be set up and found dead with the body. So that’s on me, too. I am not going to let these assholes get away with this. I’m an FBI agent. This is my wheelhouse. And it always will be.”

“Another thing I anticipated you saying. And I’m not disagreeing with you. I just want you to move forward fully informed. Including my two cents.”

Pine reached out and gripped Blum’s hand. “I appreciate your two cents. It always turns out to be far more valuable than that.”

“So what now?”

“I have two people to find. Tony Vincenzo and Lindsey Axilrod. And who knows, one might very well lead me to the other.”





CHAPTER





33





PULLER EMAILED LINDSEY AXILROD’s home address to Pine. In it he also verified that Axilrod had not shown up for work that morning. She and Blum drove over to the small bungalow situated in a quiet neighborhood about five miles from Fort Dix.

“No car in the driveway,” observed Blum.

“Front door closed. No lights on that I can see, though it is daylight. No one lurking in the bushes.”

They pulled to a stop at the curb, got out, and walked up to the front door. Pine rapped on the wood and waited. No answer. She rapped harder, with the same result.

Pine eyed the doorbell. “She has a doorbell with a camera, so she’s probably watching us right now from wherever she is.” They walked to the backyard, where there were two listing and rusted poles set in concrete and the remnants of a rotted clothesline, which was hanging down to the ground. A wooden and shingled utility shed sat back against the fence.

Pine walked over to it and peered in one of the windows. “No dead bodies hanging from the rafters. Just a lawn mower and some gardening tools.”

“What do we do now?” asked Blum.

“I’d really like to get into her house.”

“But without a search warrant we have no legal standing to do so. And if you’re thinking about breaking and entering again, I would advise against it.”

“Maybe I can do something that would allow us legal entry then.”

She made a call and said, “I’m FBI Special Agent Atlee Pine. I was supposed to meet with a woman named Lindsey Axilrod about a matter I’m investigating. She did not show up for work today and we’re at her home now. She is not responding to my knocks. I’d like you to do a welfare check on her because I’m worried that something might have happened to her.” Pine gave the address and put her phone away and looked at Blum.

Five minutes later a cruiser pulled up in front of the house and two uniforms climbed out. One was in his forties, overweight with a flushed face and a bored look. The other was about a decade younger, tall and thin with a runner’s build, who looked far more animated than his partner at having been called in by the Bureau.

“You the FBI agent?” said the older cop. His name tag read DONNELLY, and he looked like a man going through the motions until his pension kicked in.

Pine produced her badge and creds and introduced Blum.

The younger cop, who had excitedly identified himself as Officer Brent Tatum, said, “What were you investigating with the lady who lives here?”

“Not something I can disclose, really, but I can tell you that she was a potential witness for something critical to national security that was going on at her place of work.”

“Which was where, exactly?” asked Donnelly.

“Fort Dix.”

“But that’s military.”

“I’m working the case with Army CID.”

Donnelly rubbed his chin and shot a glance at the house. “Locked?”

“Yes. She has a doorbell camera, but she didn’t respond, which she could have even if she wasn’t here.”

“We better check this out, Dan,” said Tatum.

His partner didn’t seem inclined to do so, but he hitched up his gun belt and led the way up the walk. He knocked on the door and got no answer. Then he bent down to the doorbell and said, “Ms. Axilrod, are you here?”

“Hello, who is that?”

Donnelly straightened, shot a look at Pine, and said, “Officer Donnelly with the Trenton Police Department. Is this Ms. Axilrod?”