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Becca was Michael Hannigan’s victim in the bank robbery. A teller, he’d used her to access the bank deposit boxes and then killed her, seemingly for no reason.
Tommy noted he planned to do a full background on Becca, that he intended to reinterview all witnesses, and then he wrote:
Contact Jenna Johns—sister.
He didn’t list a phone number or email, but he’d circled and starred her name and added a notation:
Jenna—Becca’s employment history, debt, boyfriends.
Debt was a signal in many investigations of possible motive for crime, especially white-collar crime. But there had been nothing in the FBI records that pointed to Becca—a victim—as being an accomplice.
She put a star next to Becca’s name on her own notepad and wrote downJenna Johns.
A few pages near the end of his tablet, on a page flanked by several blank pages, Tommy had written five names and businesses. They seemed familiar to Regan, but she didn’t know why. She tore out the page and clipped it into her own notepad.
Turning to Tommy’s computer, she reviewed his most recently accessed documents, then frowned. He hadn’t created or opened any documents on his computer for weeks. Would he have committed everything to hardcopy? That struck Regan as out of character.
She stood, walked around his office, thinking. If Tommy was preparing a report or presentation for Charlie at headquarters, he would have the information in writing. Print, PowerPoint, something. He wouldn’t rely solely on handwritten notes.
Suspecting that he had another device, she looked around the room, in cabinets, drawers. She didn’t remember Tommy having a laptop or tablet, but she supposed it was possible. Leaving the library, she walked around the house, flipping on light switches as she went, looking for anything out of place.
Then she found it.
In the butler’s pantry that bridged the dining room and the kitchen was a laptop charger, plugged into the wall next to a small built-in desk. No laptop, no case. Maybe Tommy had taken it with him—that would be logical—and now it was in the possession of the FBI.
Regan needed to see what was in it, and Charlie should be able to at least access it in evidence. It might even be considered personal property, so the FBI would return it forthwith. At a minimum, Charlie should be able to look at the contents.
One mystery solved, she returned to the den and sat back down at his desktop. He hadn’t been working on his main computer. Why, she could only guess. Still, there might be relevant information in his email.
She opened his email, pushing aside the guilt at invading his privacy. Scanned the inbox. Scanning various messages, she found nothing that referenced Chase, Adam Hannigan, Becca Johns, or Peter Grey. In fact, Tommy hadn’t used his personal email for much of anything.
Why would he have a secondary account?
Where was Tommy’s cell phone? Had the killer taken it? Why?
She called Charlie as she retrieved Tommy’s search history. Swearing under her breath, she realized that it auto-deleted every time he shut down his computer. She did the same thing, but it was infuriating when she wanted information. There were ways to recreate the history, but that went way beyond her skill set.
“Hello,” Charlie answered in his deep baritone.
“Charlie, it’s Regan. Tommy wasn’t using his computer much while he was on leave. He has no recent files, he regularly deletes his browsing history, and nothing of import is in his emails. Did you know he owned a laptop?”
He thought for a moment. “I might have seen him with a laptop case a few times, but he didn’t usually carry one around.”
“It’s not here. Could it be with the FBI or with his personal effects at the morgue?”
“Hold on, let me look at the evidence log. Give me a sec.”
“I’m sorry it’s late—I didn’t mean to disturb you at home.”
“You can call me anytime, day or night. Just takes a minute to log in to the system...okay. Let’s see...”
His voice trailed off. A moment later he said, “No laptop in evidence.”
“And no phone, either,” she said.
“No phone, no laptop, no briefcase, nothing. You’re thinking, if he was going to talk to me about what he learned, he’d have something to show me.”
“You must be thinking the same thing,” she said.
