Page 92 of Holmes, Margaret and Poe

“It’s a long shot, but I’m wondering if you remember a case eighteen years ago involving a fifteen-year-old from Edgewater named Henry Pelham?”

There was silence on the line before Judge Ball said, “You know I can’t talk about juvenile cases.”

“Especially ones that have been sealed and expunged,” I said. “But these are special circumstances, Judge.”

“How’s that?”

“Pelham was shot to death by the Dead Hours killer.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but that still doesn’t change —”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Judge, but at least five of the victims had juvenile records that were sealed and then expunged at age eighteen.”

There was a pause. “Is that so?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’re just trying to find a commonality beyond that if there is one.”

A longer silence ensued before she said, “Was Mr. Pelham married?”

“No. He lived alone and had no living relatives. Neighbors barely knew him.”

She took a long slow breath. “I was the judge on Henry Pelham’s case. It carries my seal. It was expunged under my order.”

“Yes, ma’am, but knowing what really happened might help us prevent another senseless killing.”

Judge Ball cleared her throat. “Henry, who was fifteen, got into his parents’ liquor cabinet, got loaded, and sexually assaulted a ten-year-old girl, a neighbor. He claimed to have no recollection of the experience and everyone who appeared in my court testified to the kid’s character. He cried when he apologized in my court to the girl and to her family. There were no further incidents. End of story.”

I hung up, went upstairs, and crawled into bed for a long nap.

CHAPTER 79

BREE AND ELENA MARTINentered the offices of Amalgam Corporation in Reston and asked to see Craig Warren.

The company’s chief financial officer was in an emergency meeting following the death of the CEO — which was why the place was staffed on a weekend — so the two women asked for Leigh Anne Asher’s personal assistant, Jill Jackson. The receptionist told them that Jackson was in Asher’s office, cleaning things out before she moved on to a new job.

“That was quick,” Bree said.

“We still want to talk with her,” Martin said in her most intimidating voice.

The receptionist shrank a little and gave them directions to the corner office, where Bree and Elena found Jill Jackson on the floor with her back to the door, going through files and shredding them.

“Excuse me?” Martin said loud enough to be heard over the shredder. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Jackson jumped up and spun around, her hand on her heart. “You scared the bejesus out of me!”

“I would hope so,” Bree said.

“What’s going on here?” Jackson said.

“We asked first.”

“I’m going through Leigh Anne’s files, making sure they’re in order.”

Martin said, “Looks more like you’re destroying things a federal agent would be interested in.”

“I don’t know what you’re t-talking about,” Jackson stammered. She was lying and not doing a great job of it.

Bree said, “I am two seconds from calling FBI agent Vicky Thomas and telling her what you’re up to. She’ll put you in handcuffs for obstruction of justice.”

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