Two days later, Eleni jammed her hand in the closing elevator door, then pulled against it as it finally started to open again. She heaved a sigh of relief and pulled herself into the elevator, catching the eye of the only other occupant—Chris Springfield—as she straightened and adjusted her suit jacket. She hadn’t seen the man who had been following her again, but had been living in virtual seclusion ever since it had happened. She was scared, but knew she couldn’t hide forever. Even if investigating this case did put her life at risk, she had to do whatever she could to get the answers she needed. She met Chris’s eye. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“No, ma’am,” Chris responded as he rocked back on his heels. “I’ve been doing my job, which, by the way, does not include granting interviews with the press regarding ongoing investigations.”
“I’m not trying to get an interview, and I’m not writing a story. My daughter and I were victims, and that guy from the hospital was following me after I left the FBI building the other day. Didn’t you get my message? I tried hiding, but I just can’t do it. I want to help you find out the identity of the murderer and uncover his motive just like you do. I want our lives back.”
Chris shook his head. “And you’ve already started, haven’t you? I’ve been fielding complaints left and right about you from the people you’ve been interviewing. They all want to know when you’re going to stop harassing them.”
“Harassing?” She shrugged. “I’ve been calling people, sure, trying to get answers. If people have nothing to hide, they shouldn’t mind responding to a few questions so the perpetrator can be apprehended. It’s their civic duty to cooperate. I promise I’ve been polite each and every time.”
Chris took a step back. “They are supposed to work with law enforcement, not the press, and for the record, whether you’re polite or not, your actions aren’t helping. In fact, they’re slowing me down. I don’t want your help. I thought I made that clear.”
Eleni raised an eyebrow. “You may not want it, but you need it.” At his incredulous look, she pressed forward. “Look, I’m good at my job. I’m a respectable investigator. I’ve won awards for the corruption I’ve uncovered. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“It looks great on a résumé. It does nothing to convince me I need you to work with me on this case.” He pointedly took a step to the side where he could get a better view of the elevator buttons—probably so he could gauge their progress and the amount of time he had to continue talking to her. It was obvious that he didn’t want to continue the conversation. She had left messages and even tried to get back into the FBI building, but he’d ignored her calls, and when she’d tried to meet with him again at his office, she’d discovered that he’d instructed the security guard at the front doors to deny her entrance. She’d had no choice but to follow him and try to meet with him in a new and creative way, but hopefully, she could thwart his attempts to exclude her here and now. With a swift move of her hand, she pushed the button to stop the elevator’s progress. There was a small jolt, and the elevator quit moving and froze between floors.
He rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me?”
“My daughter was almost killed, Agent. She’s all I have, and I need answers. A man has been following me. We can’t get back to our normal life and routine unless I know she’s safe. I can’t even have her come back home. Until the perpetrator is caught, I won’t have that assurance.”
Chris sighed. “I understand, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. You should know that. Investigations take time, and we are doing our best to ferret out the killer. It’s only been four days. You have to let us do our jobs.”
She was making him uncomfortable, and she wasn’t sure why. Sure, she was being a tad aggressive, but he must have dealt with other forceful victims in the past. He was an FBI agent, after all, and probably dealt with difficult people on a regular basis. She’d noticed that he’d been uncomfortable around Katie in the hospital, too, but this was something different—something that she couldn’t quite identify but was about her this time, not her daughter. He wouldn’t look her in the eye, and he’d backed himself into the corner of the elevator box. She wished she knew him better so she could do a better job of reading him, but how could she get to know him if he wouldn’t allow any contact? Since she had this opportunity and might not get another, she observed him even closer. He had fisted his hands, and every muscle seemed tightened and tense.
Was he sweating?
She relaxed her own stance, hoping it would help him feel more at ease. She wanted answers, but she knew she’d never get them when he was wound up as tightly as an antique clock. She hoped an earnest plea would help. “Look, Agent, I’m not trying to make your life harder. What I really want to do is make it easier. Please let me help. I have to do something.” She reached out and laid her hand on his sleeve. “Please.”
He glanced at her hand, but didn’t pull away. A moment passed, then another. Finally, he sighed and met her eye. “The names of the victims are now public record, all except your daughter, of course, because she’s a minor. Five people died, and another two ladies were injured but released from the hospital after they completed an observation period. All seven need to be investigated so we can determine if there was a personal motive, or if the act was simply one of terrorism. If you want to dig into the victims’ backgrounds, be my guest. Maybe you’ll find something that will explain why this happened. Just don’t tell anyone you’re working with or for the FBI. That would be a blatant falsehood.”
She smiled, squeezed his arm and removed her hand, then checked her watch. It was still early—only about nine in the morning. She could easily get a copy of the police reports that identified the victims and spend the next several hours on the internet, researching, and she had planned to go down this road anyway. In fact, she’d already started a collection of news reports regarding the incident, and as Chris had noted, some of the victims had already been identified on the local news channels. But even so, finally, it looked as if this big burly FBI agent was ready to work with her—at least a little. She pushed the button on the elevator panel that made it continue its progress up the shaft. “You won’t regret it, Agent Springfield. I promise. Can we meet tonight to discuss what I find?”
He tilted his head as if surprised by her request, but finally capitulated. “Fine.”
“I’ll be in my office until ten or so. Care to meet me there?”
“What about your daughter?”
“She’s still staying out of town with friends until this investigation is concluded. Until we identify the motive and arrest the killer, I want to make sure she’s out of harm’s way. Like I said, she’s all I have since Charlie died. I don’t want her life to be in peril while some madman is on the loose.”
“Makes sense.” He seemed to have a look of relief on his face. But was he relieved because Katie was safe, or because he wouldn’t have to see her or be around her if they met to discuss the case? Eleni wasn’t sure, but his demeanor had definitely changed once he knew the little girl wouldn’t be present.
The elevator reached his floor and the doors opened. “Have a good day, Ms. Townsend.”
He exited quickly, as if he was in a rush to get away from her, and she let him leave without further obstacles, then pushed the button for the elevator to take her back down to the ground floor. She still couldn’t get past the idea that both she and Katie made him uncomfortable, and she had absolutely no idea why.
“I won’t be able to meet with you tonight,” Chris stated flatly through his phone. He’d hoped he could just leave a message for Eleni Townsend, but she had picked up after the first ring. “Something has come up.” He glanced at his watch. It was around 9:00 p.m., but the stars weren’t visible due to the city lighting in the downtown area. The air was crisp and clear, and despite the chill in the air, several people still walked the sidewalks, and cars and trucks still filled the streets. Chicago was like New York in some respects. It never truly slept.
“Something about the case?” she asked immediately.
“I really can’t say,” Chris hedged. He stood across the street at the building that housed Eleni’s office, but just couldn’t bring himself to go over and ride the elevator to her floor. He never really wanted to meet with her in the first place. He wasn’t even sure why he’d made the trip downtown. In fact, he’d only put her to work digging up the backgrounds of the victims to keep her busy and out of his hair.
Still, Eleni was a top-notch researcher, and Chris was curious to find out if she’d discovered anything new. And she did have someone following her, which meant she could still be in danger. His protective instincts were on full alert whenever he was around her, and he was like a moth being drawn in by a flame. He just couldn’t help himself, even though he knew he could never act on the attraction he was feeling.
His mind shifted through the facts they’d learned about the case. The FBI had already been doing background checks on the victims and had access to bigger and better databases than the general public, but so far, his team had gotten zilch in the motive department. Nothing seemed to stand out about any of the victims beyond Eleni and her exposé, yet they hadn’t discovered any connection between Eleni’s story and the poisoning. The deli itself was owned by a respectable family with a good reputation, so the attack didn’t appear to have been aimed at trying to hurt the restaurant’s owner either.
Usually, when a random act of terrorism occurred, there was no shortage of people or organizations rushing to take credit for the deaths, but that hadn’t happened this time. In fact, not a single organization or person had claimed responsibility, which was just plain odd, and made Chris believe the poisoning hadn’t been random or an act of terrorism at all.
But if the murderer had been targeting a specific person, how could the killer guarantee that the right person would be harmed in an attack like this? How did he or she know that the intended victim would eat the purple cabbage? This entire event was strange and out of left field. Of course, most folks were creatures of habit. If they followed a routine, they could be watched and their behavior predicted. Of all of the ideas they’d considered so far, Jerome Renfrew’s did seem to be the most plausible—that one person had been the intended victim and the others were just martyred for the cause to throw off the investigation. Still, it would have to be a callous person indeed that would kill several innocent people just to get at one particular victim, especially in such a heinous way.
The FBI would keep running down any leads they uncovered. There was an answer out there somewhere. Chris and his team just had to keep looking until he found it.
He stopped his woolgathering and focused on ending the call. “Anyway, have a good evening.”
“Agent Springfield, please don’t hang up. I’d really like to meet with you, even if it’s only for a few minutes. I’ve done quite a bit of research that, if nothing else, will save you a great deal of time so you don’t have to spin your wheels. I’ve got background information on every victim from the poisoning. You’ll want to hear what I’ve found.” She paused. “If tonight won’t work for you, then let’s meet for lunch tomorrow. You have to eat, right?”
Chris stared at the building where Eleni was working as his mind spun. It was a normal office building, with eighteen floors and intricate carvings on the facade, built in art deco style back in the 1920s or so. Several of the windows still had lights on, despite the evening hour, but what concerned him was the smoke he suddenly saw coming out of one of the windows on the sixth floor. The sight sent off warning bells in his mind and jolted him into action.
“Ms. Townsend, what floor are you working on?” he asked, unable to keep the concern out of his voice.
“The seventh. Why?”
“Because one floor down, it looks like there’s a fire in your building.”
“Wait, you’re downtown?” There was a pause, as if she was checking to see if anyone had reported a fire. A moment passed. “How can you tell?”
Chris realized he’d just revealed more than he’d wanted to about his location, but at this point, it just didn’t matter. “Get out of the building. Now. I’m going to call the fire department.” He hung up without giving her a chance to respond and immediately reported the fire, then stored his phone while glancing at the traffic, looking for the easiest and quickest place to cross the road. The corner and the crosswalk were too far away and he needed to get to Eleni now. Feelings of protectiveness and worry surged within him, and he felt powerless to stop his hands from shaking as he stepped off the curb.
What was it about Eleni that was awakening all of these long dormant feelings? One minute he was brainstorming ways to avoid seeing her, and the next, he was rushing to her rescue. He didn’t want to feel anything for her or anybody else. His job was enough, and he hadn’t had a meaningful relationship in quite a while. Yet here he was, running into oncoming traffic, terrified that he wouldn’t be able to get to her in time.
A car nearly clipped him in the second lane he tried to cross, shaking him out of his contemplation once again as he focused on actually surviving his jaywalking attempt to get to Eleni’s building. Several other drivers blew horns, and a cacophony of sounds and smells hit him as tires screeched and motors strained. The drivers were finally noticing him and the way he was waving his arms around, and thankfully the vehicles in the third lane slowed and finally stopped completely, allowing him to pass. In the fourth lane, he wasn’t so lucky. There was a large bagel truck bearing down on him, and the driver was distracted and talking on a cell phone. Chris waved and yelled, trying to get the driver’s attention, but it was no use. Mere seconds before impact, the driver finally saw Chris and a look of fear crossed his face as he slammed on the brakes. The truck fishtailed wildly as the metal from the grill bore down on him.