Page 135 of Putting Out
“I agree. I don’t know there is reason to panic yet. We just want to find out who he is. Can you get in touch with this friend of yours in DC? Maybe track down how he contacted Agent Leonard.”
“Sure. Right.”
Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He scrolled for a while on the display, then settled on a number and waited while it dialed.
“Mr. Simm’s office.” A pleasant feminine tone sounded in his ear forcing Luke to check the number he dialed but his display indicated it was Bob’s number.
“Yes, this is Luke Nolan. I’m a friend of Bob’s. I need to speak with him. I thought this was his cell number.”
“Oh, my gosh.TheLuke Nolan? The golfer. I saw you on TV. Do you know Reilly Carr?”
“Yeah, look, I’m trying to reach Bob.”
“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Nolan, Agent Simms is currently on assignment. All his calls are being forwarded to this office. Can I leave a message with him?”
Right. He knew that. Mark had told him that. “I need to know what he did with the package I sent him a few weeks back. I called him and told him it was coming. It was a medium-size, yellow envelope. Is there any way you can reach him and…”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Nolan, when did you say you sent it? I do have instructions from Agent Simms to be on the lookout for a package, but haven’t seen anything like that come across his desk.”
“A few weeks ago. Maybe four.”
“You sent it to this office?”
Luke listened as she rattled off the same address Bob had given him. That was where he sent it. Bob never got it.
“I know Agent Simms was concerned he hadn’t received it before he left, and I was supposed to forward it to him as soon as it came. It wouldn’t have gotten past me and I can see it’s not on his desk.”
Luke saw white spots dance in front of his vision. Bob never got the package.
“I put it in the mail… in the mailbox outside of the development. Because I didn’t feel like finding a post office and …”
“I’m sorry. I can’t hear you, Mr. Nolan.”
“He had a badge…” Luke continued to mutter as he tried to think back. He snapped off the phone and stared into the face of the grim detective.
“What does this mean?”
“Your friend Bob never contacted anyone?”
“No. I called him and told him what was happening. He told me to send him the package. The next thing I know Leonard shows up at our door. He says he’s the FBI, that Bob sent him the package. He referenced… it was in the letter. I asked Bob how it was hanging in my note to him.”
Luke stumbled toward a bench situated in the corridor along the wall. He sat, his face in his hands, as he thought about how easily he’d been played.
“He said although the bureau couldn’t officially investigate, he had plenty of vacation time and was willing to give us any assistance we needed. He said he was a fan.”
The detective walked over to him and nodded.
“Okay. We checked into Neville Walters’ background a little further. We got his medical records from the outpatient facility where he was treated in Omaha. The man was indigent, living off state disability. His IQ was well below normal.”
Agitated and needing to get to his car to find Reilly, Luke jumped up.
“Why the hell do I care what Neville Walters’ IQ was?”
“You need to think this through. I’ve seen Neville’s type before. They’re obsessive and fixate on someone close. Someone they see every day. It’s my understanding that Ms. Carr began to receive threatening letters in her hometown and that pattern continued in Savannah.”
Luke stopped. “Yes. The letters and the calls started while she was in Little Creek, but we know Walters pursued her. He broke into the house. He was at the golf course watching her practice. Kenny almost chased him down.”
“He had no money on him,” the detective said, counting out points on his hand. “No credit cards. Just a worn-out wallet with a single piece of identification. How did he get to Savannah? How did he find you? How did he get past the security at your home and more important, how did he get past the security at the event?”
