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“It’s suspicious.”
“The killer must have taken his laptop along with his cell phone.”
“Does Tommy have a cloud account?”
“No—I checked on his home computer. If he has one, he didn’t access it from his desktop.”
“I have access to his work computer and files—I’ll see if he saved anything to our network.”
“Thanks, Charlie. Best to Sharon.”
She had another idea. She went to Tommy’s email again and found the automated emails from his cell phone provider. She then went to the browser and as she suspected, the login information auto-populated as soon as she clicked in the box.
Most everything was digital these days, and bills were no exception. She clicked on his last bill—the cycle had ended eight days ago. She printed out a list of all the calls to and from his phone. It wouldn’t give her text information, but at least she had something to follow up on.
She printed out the calls from the cycle before the last, to cover the entire four weeks he’d been on leave, but the last eight days were unavailable until the end of the billing cycle. Law enforcement could request the data with a warrant.
For now, she took the pages and scanned the numbers, making notes. Her own phone number appeared a few times, but only once in the last six weeks—the day after Chase’s birthday, when Regan had called Tommy after she landed in Phoenix to tell him that all was well between them, and she’d talk to him later.
And she hadn’t called. That bothered her now.
She would call all the numbers in the log to find out who they belonged to, if possible. There were at least two calls a day to the Marshals office, but that wasn’t surprising. There were calls to his sister—she crossed those off.
A number jumped out at her.
555-703-7880
She knew that number: her ex-husband’s cell phone.
An outgoing call that lasted three minutes on April 29. Three weeks ago. The day after Tommy had his visit with Peter Grey, per his calendar.
Why the hell had Tommy called her ex?
Tommy and Grant had never particularly liked each other. They got along well enough when they had to, but Regan had always felt tension between them. She didn’t understand it, generally ignored it, figured it would work itself out. She dismissed it as two strong-willed, intelligent men who had dissimilar backgrounds and interests. Tommy had grown up in a lower middle-class Baltimore neighborhood with a single mom, raised more by his sister Terri. Grant had grown up in an upper middle-class Boston neighborhood, moving to Virginia when he graduated law school to work for what Tommy had once called a “stuffy” law firm. Tommy was former military, barely passed high school, got into the Marshals Service with an AA instead of a bachelor’s through a military-to-federal service program. Tommy wasn’t unintelligent; he was more tactical and kinetic than book smart. Sitting at a desk for hours was his version of hell. It was something that Regan and Tommy had bonded over. The only difference was she’d taught herself ways to combat the need to escape a classroom.
She itched to call Grant but wanted to talk to him in person. They hadn’t spoken since that day beside Chase’s grave. Maybe Tommy’s call had been irrelevant to the investigation. She didn’t want to speculate, but the timing was suspicious. She’d track down Grant tomorrow.
She circled several other numbers she planned to call, then printed out his calendar, which fortunately was synced between his phone and his computer. She saw a meeting with Grant on his calendar. April 30.Grant Warwick, here.
The day after their phone conversation, and two days after his meeting with Peter Grey.
She flipped through Tommy’s notepad, searched his desk—no notes on their conversation.
Odd. Again, she almost called Grant right then...but decided her original instincts were best—reach out to him tomorrow in person. She hadn’t called or texted him to let him know she was in Virginia—she’d hopped on the first flight she could get after she heard about Tommy’s murder.
She cut and pasted the phone numbers from Tommy’s account into a spreadsheet on the computer so that she could add information, search and sort data as needed. She tabulated incoming and outgoing numbers, plus the total number of minutes between Tommy and the caller. The first three weeks of April, before his leave, he’d called dozens of different numbers, few numbers more than once, other than his sister, Terri. But in the last three weeks—since his meeting with Grey—there were several calls both incoming and outgoing to Grant, and another number that popped up a half dozen times. She tried that number just for kicks—it went immediately to voicemail.
A computerized voice started up then a female said “Jenna Johns” before the computer continued that she was unavailable and to leave a message.
Regan left a message with her full name and number and a brief explanation. She hoped Jenna would return her call, but if not Regan would try again tomorrow.
She made a note on her spreadsheet and then looked at the other numbers. A few were familiar—using the reverse telephone directory, she identified most of them.
The prison where Grey was held.
Several private numbers that didn’t seem to hold any relevance.
Potomac Bank of Arlington.
