“We need to talk, off the record,” Simone said.
“Can you ride with me?” Nikki asked.
“Absolutely.”
Simone had to confide in Commander Cardoso. She needed Nikki to walk into the crime scene with eyes wide open.
En route to Newburg’s, Simone said, “I think Cary Newburg’s death is related to Guy Chenkus’ murder.”
“How?”
“Both men worked at State,” Simone explained. “Newburg was having Chenkus create passports that could be passed on to the Haqazzii terror cell.”
Nikki’s eyebrows jutted up. “Oh. My. God.”
“This is something averysmall group of people are keeping a tight lid on.”
“Got it.” Nikki turned into the neighborhood, the street swarming with cop cars and an ambulance.
Nikki parked, the women got out, made their way down the street. The air was chilly, the sky blue, and the pit in Simone’s stomach was the size of the donut she’d eaten. She’d left a tracker on Cary Newburg’s car. If someone checked that carcarefully, they might find it.
I need to pull it before someone else does.
They gloved up, covered their shoes, and entered the home. A beat cop asked for their IDs.
After displaying their badges, Nikki said, “I need to talk to the responding officer.”
“Where’s the victim?” Simone asked the officer.
“His office, down that hall.” He pointed Simone in the right direction, and she took off.
Simone found Cary Newburg on the floor, a bullet wound to his right temple, a gun on the floor next to his right hand. He was dressed in cotton pajamas and a bathrobe. His face ashen, his eyes lifeless.
Her chest tightened.
Death was difficult, regardless of the situation. She walked around his office, eyed the papers on his desk. A sticky note was taped to a framed picture of he and a middle-aged woman.
Love you always, Trish
Simone made her way into the kitchen and over to Nikki who was speaking with two officers.
“Who called this in?” Nikki asked.
“Welfare check from his girlfriend. She said he was supposed to pick her up this morning, but didn’t show.”
“Where’d she call from?” Nikki asked.
“She said she was home. They were taking the day off from work.”
“Was anything breached?” Nikki asked.
“Nothing,” replied one of the officers. “Negative on B&E.”
Simone walked around the kitchen, pausing to read a handwritten note. It was a list of handyman items for the house. A grocery list sat next to that one. She spotted the pen. It was to the left of the papers.
Was Newburg left handed?
“Was anything moved?” Simone called out.
