Page 37 of Alibi for Murder
“And this,” Steve said, gesturing to the final arrival taking a seat, “is Jackson Brennan. He is a former bounty hunter and very, very good at tracking the missing and solving cold cases.”
“Thank you,” Allie said. “I am truly lost in all this.”
Jackson gave her a nod. The man was tall, young. Midthirties maybe. If she were a bad guy and this man was tracking her, she would be very afraid.
“You needn’t worry,” Victoria assured Allie, drawing her attention to the head of the table. “We will get to the bottom of things as quickly as possible.”
“We’ve tracked down the mystery couple,” Jamie said. “They moved from Woodstock to Yuma, Arizona, twenty-six years ago. They declined to be interviewed by phone or in person. We have a local contact who showed up unannounced and made an attempt, but Mrs. Reger shut it down.”
Allie’s heart sank a little. She was really hoping the couple would be willing to answer questions. The husband having been employed at Ledwell and the two being friends with her parents had given Allie such hope they would know something helpful for moving forward.
“We’ve also looked,” Nicole spoke next, “into the death of the Madison child, Tommy. There was no autopsy conducted—at least not in the state of Illinois—and the single document related to the child’s death that we did discover indicated his remains had been cremated. This document was from a funeral home in Woodstock. The Wembley.” She looked to Allie then. “But the part I found strange was that there was nothing else. No further indication that he died or that he was even born. No birth certificate. No medical records that we’ve been able to locate. We’ve been searching every available database for the past twenty-four hours, and there is simply nothing.”
“Are you suggesting,” Steve spoke up, “that the child was perhaps not the Madisons’ biological child? Maybe there was an adoption they kept secret for whatever reason.”
“That’s possible, of course,” Nicole agreed. “But what I’ve found is that, for all intents and purposes, this child did not exist. Not on paper.”
“How is that possible? There were photos of him,” Allie spoke up, “at the grandmother’s house. Basically everyone we’ve spoken with who knew the family recalled the child.”
“Private adoption,” Steve suggested. “Illegal adoption.”
“We ran his description,” Jackson said, “through more databases to see if a child matching that description was reported missing during the target timeframe. Not a single name popped up. Then we searched for infants and toddlers in that category. The few we found who fit the search criteria were part of cases that were all solved favorably.”
“It’s possible,” Nicole explained, “this is why there was no coverage of his death. If the child had been stolen, the last thing the Madisons would have wanted to do was have photos of him in the news.”
Allie’s heart had started to pound at this new scenario. “What I’m getting from this is that my parents may have somehow figured out the child was stolen, and they were killed to prevent them telling others what they had discovered.”
“It’s certainly a theory that merits consideration,” Victoria agreed. “There are documented cases of personnel having bizarre accidents and people protesting the work being done at Ledwell, which we, as you know, believe to be the primary scenario related to the possibility of how the accident happened. I fear we’ll have to dig much deeper to find anything one way or the other. The person or persons behind all this have been very careful in covering their tracks.”
“But there were no investigations,” Allie said. “At least, none that were conducted officially. How can we prove these allegations or suspicions if we can’t get anyone to talk?”
“None we’ve found so far,” Victoria reminded her. “But, in my experience, if you poke at a bear you’ll get a reaction. Maybe not the first time, but he won’t ignore you for long.”
Allie smiled. She really liked this lady and the way she thought.
“I’ve reviewed the accident report from the night your parents died,” Simon spoke up. “Mechanical failure is the only cause listed—which you already knew. The deputy who was first on the scene and who investigated the accident is retired now.” To Steve, he said, “I’ve forwarded his contact information to you. Unfortunately, the mechanic mentioned as having conducted the actual examination of the vehicle has since died.”
“The reporter,” Nicole said, “Rivero, may be an important link in this chain of information. If you can get him to talk—” this she directed to Steve “—he could provide useful details.”
Steve nodded. “We’ll get him to talk.”
Allie was still reeling with all she’d heard when it was time to go. As she and Steve rode the elevator down to the main lobby, she tried to remember if she’d thanked everyone. They were all working so hard—even using their weekends—to help her find the truth.
Without the truth…she could end up being charged with a murder she didn’t commit.
Federal Bureau of Investigations
Roosevelt Road, 10:00 a.m.
Allie felt cold.Her nerves were fluttering. Palms sweating.
She wanted to scream that she had no idea what any of this was about, but that was no longer true. She understood that itwas about the past, and somehow her parents were involved. Allie also got that there were things—secret things—that were being kept from her to cover up for other secret things…none of which were good.
Steve had said that powerful people sometimes went to great lengths to conceal their tracks. Allie understood this. She might be a bit of a recluse, but she didn’t live under a rock. Still, his telling her was valid. Most people—even those aware that things like this happened—didn’t really recognize just how deep, just how bad these cover-ups could be. Most people were like her, she supposed. She walked through life believing others were good until something happened to change her mind.
Evidently that wasn’t true in some cases.
Driving up to the FBI’s complex felt like arriving at a prison. A three-building complex of concrete, steel and glass stationed on twelve acres with mazes for parking lots and other things—little box-shaped metal things—she couldn’t identify.
