Lucy and Leo met with Charlie McMahon’s widow at FBI headquarters. Again her brother, Deputy Olsen, came with her. It was clear Lisa McMahon hadn’t slept much, if at all, and she kept apologizing for Charlie and herself.
“I should have seen it coming.”
Lucy spent thirty minutes talking to her while Leo and Olsen went through the McMahon financial statements for clues about Charlie. At first Lucy just listened, then she tried to convince Lisa that unless she had put the gun in his hand, or had foreknowledge that he intended to take hostages, she was not responsible. Guilt was powerful, and any survivor went through myriad emotions.
“Lisa,” Lucy finally said when McMahon’s widow started circling back to her regrets, “we’re just starting our investigation, and neither Agent Proctor nor I are jumping to any conclusions as to what happened. It’s clear to me, however, that Charlie had something going on with him that he shared with no one, except maybe his friend Paul Grey. And in my opinion—based on the witness statements and the evidence we do have—I don’t think Charlie went into that coffeehouse planning on hurting anyone.”
“But he brought two guns with him. Two guns! A reporter showed up at Trevor’s house this morning, as we were leaving to come here, and asked if I knew that he’d killed Paul.”
“We don’t know who killed Paul. We’ve just started our investigation.”
“But Paul was shot. In m-m-my house.” Her hand went to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears.
Lucy reached over and took her free hand. “Lisa, I can’t tell you everything that happened because we don’t know. The crime scene investigators believe that Paul was killed somewhere else and brought to your house.”
“Why would Charlie do that?”
“We don’t know that Charlie did do anything yet. Don’t talk to the reporters. They can ask anything they want, but you have every right not to answer them. If they harass you at all, call the police.”
“Trevor said he’d arrest them for trespassing. But—I don’t know what to do. When can I go to the house? I can’t bring the kids there, ever, but I want to get rid of it. Put in on the market, or just walk away. I don’t know. But I have to go through it. We spent nearly twenty years there…”
“Don’t make any major decisions right now, like walking away from the house,” Lucy said. “Why don’t you sleep on it for a few days and talk to your brother. You can hire someone to clean the house, pack it up, whatever you want. You don’t have to do it yourself. It’ll be another day or two before you’ll be allowed back in at any rate. Someone will contact you when it’s been cleared.”
She nodded.
“A couple more questions if you are up to it?”
“Okay.”
“There was no computer in the den, which seemed odd. Did Charlie have a computer?”
“A laptop. He had a computer, but when he was fired I assumed his work took it back. It was one of those state-of-the-art computers. But he had a personal laptop.”
Lucy made note. There had been no laptop found in the house or Charlie’s truck.
“Had Paul and Charlie kept in touch after Charlie was fired?”
“No—not really. Like I said, I reached out to Paul when Charlie wasn’t paying the bills and Paul said he’d talk to him.” She took a deep breath. “I let it go too long. I should have done something more to get him help.”
“If someone who needs help refuses to get it, you can’t blame yourself. He had a lot of time to get help—but until we know exactly what was wrong, we don’t know that he didn’t get help, do we? We’ll figure it out, Lisa. The laptop,” Lucy said, getting back to information she needed, “did it have theft protection on it?”
“No.”
“Do you know the model?”
“Not really—it’s a good one, but that information would be in his office, or wait—it would be in my insurance papers. We had to document all electronics.”
“Good. If you can get me that information at your earliest convenience. Did you collect his email information?”
She nodded.
The FBI would access McMahon’s emails and see if there was any indication of what his plans were yesterday. There also might be information about where he was living and who else he was talking to.
While Leo took all the files and information to the tech unit, Lucy walked Lisa and her brother out. She tried to reassure them that the FBI was doing everything they could to find the truth about what happened with Charlie, but she didn’t think they believed her—or that anyone could ever learn the truth.
Lucy walked back inside the office, frustrated that she couldn’t give Charlie’s widow any more reassurances. Leo caught up with her as she made her way to her desk.
“Our cybercrimes team is going to hack into his email,” Leo said, “but we already have a lead on where he was staying. Not a location yet, but he used his credit card multiple times in a six-block radius in the Harlandale neighborhood.”
“Are there cheap apartments down there?”
Leo nodded. “I convinced Jordan we needed officers to canvass the area. He agreed it was a good lead, so he’s assigning Jones and someone who speaks fluent Spanish. Plainclothes, because cops in that area will get the cold shoulder. Let’s go, we’re meeting Cortland Clarke at eleven thirty.”