Page 64 of The First Gentleman

The pretty Patriots cheerleader disappeared the same year he graduated from law school. It was big news back then. But for almost twenty years, it seemed like the coldest of cold cases. It’s not surprising that the younger attorneys on his staff have never even heard of Suzanne Bonanno.

“So it was a random traffic stop?” asks Bastinelli.

Gagnon nods. “Somebody got stupid. We got lucky.”

“Well, like I said, I’m glad it was you.”

Bastinelli has worked murder cases with Gagnon before. He knows her as a precise, no-nonsense investigator who never forgets the collateral damage of a homicide—the anguish of the victims who are still alive. Mothers, fathers, siblings, friends…

But Bastinelli’s job is to convict the killer and put him in jail. Right now, he has nobody to charge. And Gagnon has nobody to offer. This is just an update meeting. Colleague to colleague. A heads-up.

“What about the driver?” asks Bastinelli, glancing down at his legal pad. “Mr. Lucienne?”

“A patsy, from what we can tell,” says Gagnon. “Claims he was paid—anonymously, in cash—to pick up the vehicle, drive it up to Lake Marie, leave it there overnight, then drive it back to where he found it.”

“Stolen vehicle?” asks Bastinelli.

Gagnon nods.

“And what’s up at Lake Marie?” asks Bastinelli.

“Nothing obvious at first look. But it’s a big property. I’ve got some troopers doing a follow-up search right now.”

Bastinelli glances down at his notes again and reads off a few cold facts. “‘Cause of death likely manual strangulation’… ‘ID from dental records and driver’s license.’” He looks up. “Where the hell has she been for the past seventeen years?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” says Gagnon. “Lab is working on soil samples to see if they can narrow it down. The bones were wrapped in a blue polyester sheet. We’re seeing if we can find a manufacturer and a distributor, maybe figure out where it was sold.”

“Polyester never dies,” says Bastinelli.

“There’s one more thing that’s not in the preliminary report,” says Gagnon.

“What’s that?”

“The ME thinks Suzanne Bonanno might have been pregnant.”

Bastinelli winces. “So we’re looking at a double homicide?”

“Not sure. The ME is doing more analysis. There are no fetal remains.”

“That won’t make my job any easier,” says Bastinelli.

“I’m afraid I’m about to make it even harder,” says Gagnon.

“How’s that?”

“Back when the case first broke, it was a hot potato between Seabrook cops and Boston PD. FBI got tangled up in there too. Somehow in all the handoffs and confusion, it looks like the original files got lost or dumped. They’re nowhere to be found.”

“Jesus. So we’re starting from scratch?”

“We’re reaching out to some of the original investigators. But a lot of them are retired. In fact, a lot of them are dead.”

“Refresh my memory,” says Bastinelli. “Who were they looking at back then?”

“One of the last people to see her was the Pats player she was dating.”

Bastinelli sits up straight. Now he remembers. Not just any football player. “You mean…”

“You got it,” says Gagnon. “The same one who’s now the First Gentleman of the United States.”

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