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Thirty-Three

Arlington, Virginia

Friday, October 25th, 1:45 PM Eastern Standard Time

Kelly couldn’t say she was a fan of Jack’s teaching tactics—they were a tad psychotic—but they were effective. She’d never forget the lesson to always speak her mind and stand up for herself—not that it did her mother any good. People liked to preach “speak your mind,” but unless you were saying what pleased them, they didn’t really want to hear it.

Jack knocked on Jane Powell’s door, the banging cutting through Kelly’s thoughts.

A tall brunette answered the door, and she was unmistakably the one captured in the photographs with Reid. Her lips were painted in a shade of pink coral similar to what had been on the wineglass in Pryce’s condo. She wore chunky jewelry around her neck and bangles on her wrists, likely her own designs; a skirt that came mid-thigh; and a blouse with its top three buttons undone.

Kelly pulled her badge. “Jane Powell?” Jack had told her in the car to take the lead on this one.

“I am, and you are?” The woman pursed her lips and let her gaze trail over Kelly to Jack.

“Special Agent Marsh, and this is Supervisory Special Agent in Charge Harper. We have some questions we’d like to ask you.”

“About the shooting?” Jane asked, soft-spoken.

“That’s right. Do you have someplace we could sit?”

Jane backed up and held the door for them. “This way.” She turned and sauntered down a hallway. They were shown to a sitting room that was sparsely furnished, but the pieces chosen made a bold statement of elegance and money. Of course, one could afford extravagant purchases when their company was worth three million dollars.

Each of them dropped into a chair, the seating arranged in a rough circle to encourage conversation.

Kelly leaned slightly forward. “Ms. Powell—”

“Please, call me Jane.” She crossed her legs and didn’t move to tug down on her skirt that had ridden up and exposed more leg than Kelly or Jack needed to see.

But Kelly studied the woman’s eyes. She’d had chest pains, no doubt brought on from the shooting, but Jane wasn’t giving any signs that she knew it had been Darrell who’d been killed. Does she know? And her energy was calm, as if the FBI visited her every day, as if nothing could faze her.

Kelly shifted her position and clasped her hands. “We understand you were at Wilson Place yesterday morning around the time of the shooting?”

“Yes. And taken to the hospital.” Still no trace of emotion.

“This might not be easy to hear,” Kelly started, “but Darrell Reid was killed in the shooting.”

Jane didn’t blink. “I’m aware of that.”

Maybe Jane was living in denial. “We have reason to believe you and Darrell were close.” The compromising photos were branded on her brain cells.

“Is that a crime?”

“Not at all, but you don’t seem too shaken by his death.”

“It’s not that I’m an unfeeling robot, but our acquaintance was nothing more than sex.”

“But that’s been going on for a while?” Kelly recalled that the server at Spencer’s Sports Bar had seen them come in together for the last six months. Surely even the most casual of “acquaintances” would be missed after that amount of time.

“Yeah, I guess we have.”

Kelly wasn’t sure why—or how—Jane was being so blasé about Darrell’s death. “He helped you get off from solicitation charges a couple years ago.” She was hoping to elicit some emotion.

“I ‘got off’ because I wasn’t guilty. Ya know Darrell was the only one who believed in me, but I still didn’t fall for him at the time. He was in his fifties. I’m thirty-five.”

“Something obviously changed your opinion of him.”

“We bumped into each other—then we started falling into each other. The fact he was married was perfect; I’m not looking for anything long-term. Deep and meaningful relationships are overrated.”

“Is that why you don’t seem too shaken up by the news of his murder?” Kelly asked.

Jane narrowed her eyes. “People die, and I know that sounds callous, but I try not to get too attached, ya know, to anyone, anything.”

Yet she was shaken enough to have chest pains. Kelly was starting to think the chest pains had more to do with her own brush with death than grief that she’d lost a lover. As for not getting attached, Kelly could relate. It didn’t bring anything good. It hadn’t for her, anyway. No matter how much love she held in her heart for her mother and brother, it hadn’t brought them back into her life.

“I can understand where you’re coming from,” Kelly said, and noticed that Jack looked over at her. “Do you know if Mr. Reid was seeing other women besides yourself?”

“I don’t know for sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me. We weren’t exclusive.”

Kelly nodded, thinking of the calls Reid’s aide had received from mystery women. “When did you last see Mr. Reid?”

“We hooked up Wednesday night, and I left his father-in-law’s condo Thursday morning, close to six.”

“The time Mr. Reid was shot.” Kelly delivered rather bluntly. Jane gave no reaction. “You must have come out not far ahead of him,” she added.

Jane’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah, I was pretty lucky.”

“Did you and Mr. Reid go out Wednesday night or stay in?” Kelly was anxious to hear Jane’s answer.

“We went to Spencer’s Sports Bar for a few drinks then to his father-in-law’s condo.”

“That picture I showed you a moment ago was taken at Spencer’s.” Kelly realized now that she hadn’t pointed that out to Jack.

Jane licked her lips and sat up. “By whom?”

“That, we don’t know, and we were hoping you might be able to tell us.”

“I don’t see how I’d know.” She started fidgeting with her necklace again, then her eyes widened. “There was this one chick that kept staring at Darrell on Wednesday when we were there. I could have decked her for being so obvious. But what really ticked me off was the way Darrell was eyeballing her. And I was sitting right there with him.”

They’d pegged their sniper as brazen, as someone who arranged a meet with Sherman and took him out. They knew from the picture that their sniper had been at Spencer’s at the same time as Reid and Powell, but Kelly would have thought she’d keep a low profile. “She was staring at him?”

“Oh, yeah, hard to miss.”

“And he was looking back at her?” Did Reid know his killer?

“He was, but he told me it didn’t mean what I thought it did.” Jane rolled her eyes. “Men can be such liars. Goes back to my motto not to get attached.”

“Did he say why he was looking at her?” Jack interjected.

Jane turned to him. “He tried to tell me she reminded him of someone he knew.” Her gaze back on Kelly. “Can you believe that?”

“Someone from his past?” Kelly reasoned.

“What he tried to tell me. Men.”

“Did he tell you her name?”

“No,” Jane dragged out.

“What did she look like?”

“Plain. Pretty, but plain. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry.”

“Age?” Kelly asked.

“About my age.”

“So, in her thirties?” Kelly flipped back just to verify.

“That’s right.”

“Hair color? Eye color?” Jack inquired.

“Blond, but it wasn’t her natural color. She had dark roots. I didn’t get a look at her eyes. The bar’s dimly lit, and she was a few tables away from us. I don’t remember her eyes, except for they were on Darrell most of the night.”

Kelly’s heart was pounding. The debate over the gender of their shooter was put to rest as far as she was concerned. “And what was she wearing?”

“A really nice gray, crepe sweater with a plunging neckline and fitted blue jeans.”

“Did she approach Darrell?” Kelly inquired. “Interact with him?”

“I would have liked to have seen her try that. I probably would have hit her then.”

Kelly noted the irony that jealousy culled out feelings for Darrell, but his death hadn’t. “How was her hair styled? How long?” If they were armed with a solid description, she and Jack could revisit Spencer’s Sports Bar and talk to the manager again, see if he had anything to offer.

“She had her hair scooped back into a clip, but left some curly strands loose, and they spilled down the side of her cheeks.”

“What about her build?” Kelly asked.

“She was trim. Say about your height.”

Five-nine. “Was she alone?”

“Yeah, and she must have left before Darrell and me. I didn’t see her on the way out, anyway, but she must not have left long before because her untouched glass of wine was still on the table.”

“All right.” Jack got to his feet. “You think of anything else, call me.” He handed Jane his card.

“Thank you for your help, Ms. Powell,” Kelly offered. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“Wait.” Jane stepped up next to Kelly and put a hand on her elbow. “Did she kill Darrell?”

“It’s far too soon to know,” Kelly found herself saying and realized she’d been indoctrinated by Jack.

Jane saw the two of them out, and in the hall, Jack’s phone rang. He didn’t take the call on speaker and hung up less than a minute later. “That was Nadia. She can’t find any connection between Powell and our victims.”

Can’t say I’m surprised, Kelly thought. She was about to respond when Jack’s phone rang again. Whatever message his caller was delivering wasn’t good. Jack hung up as they loaded onto the elevator.

He looked over at her and said, “That was Herrera. They found the maid.”