Stalked - By Allison Brennan Page 0,71
Family Secrets. She was always looking for what she called a big, juicy story, and she thought this new one fit.”
“Did she say why?” Sean asked.
“Not specifically, but anyone could see that the case was alluring. Underground sex parties, drugs, prostitution—the backdrop was more interesting than the crimes themselves.”
Sean was grateful Lucy wasn’t here. To Lucy, it was always the victims who mattered, not the trappings, and she would take issue with the sister’s description.
Suzanne said, “When we were going over her calendar and notes, we noticed she had scheduled a meeting with a reporter, Rob Banker. Do you know him?”
“Yes, he was one of Rosie’s closest friends.”
“She canceled the meeting because she had a lead to follow. Did she tell you anything about it?”
Bridget shook her head. “I didn’t see her before she left. I was out at dinner. I invited her to join me, but she thinks my friends are boring.” She smiled sadly. “She did mention she had a meeting, but I didn’t ask any details.”
Sean said, “She dedicated her first book to a Newark police officer, Bob Stokes. Do you know him?”
Bridget straightened in surprise. “Actually, I do. He was one of the officers she’d known when she was a reporter in Jersey. They were friendly. But she hadn’t talked to him in years until he came up here for the funeral of Dom Theissen. Dom was a friend of Rosie’s. They talked a lot. I thought there might be something romantic between them, but she never said anything. I know his accident hit her really hard.” Bridget began to look irritated. “I told all of this to the other FBI agent who came by.”
“Who did you speak with?” Suzanne asked.
“Agent Presidio. You brought him with you earlier. Don’t you remember?”
“Yes, I just didn’t know he returned. What time did Agent Presidio visit you?”
“Thursday, late afternoon. Nearly five. He was on his way to the airport, he said. Is something wrong?”
“He died of a heart attack Thursday night,” Suzanne said. “We never got his report.”
Bridget put her hand to her mouth. “Dear Lord. I’m sorry. He just had a couple questions, then asked to see the files in the attic again.”
“Did he take anything with him?”
“I don’t think so. If he did, he didn’t ask me.”
“May we?” Suzanne gestured toward the stairs.
Sean followed Suzanne up. “What time were you and Tony here?”
“We left around three in the afternoon, went back to headquarters with Weber’s notes from the original McMahon investigation. They were in shorthand.”
“What time did he leave?”
“I don’t know. I left him with the analyst and worked on reports. I didn’t see him again.” Suzanne pulled out her phone. “I’ll find out.”
Sean looked around the attic. Everything was well labeled. Suzanne walked over to a stack. “We only took the notepads that pertained to the missing files on the McMahon book. Tony had hoped an analyst could decipher Weber’s shorthand and it would give us an idea of what was in the stolen files.”
“Why did he come back?” Sean walked slowly around. One of the boxes had a lid that was skewed. He looked at the label. It was from the year following the McMahon homicide, while Weber was still a reporter in Newark. “One of the notepads is missing,” he said. He opened the box and noticed that Weber had meticulous labels. The front of every pad was dated. She went through at least one notepad a week.
“It’s the anniversary of Rachel McMahon’s murder that’s gone,” Sean said. “That’s three months after Kreig’s trial.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Maybe he planned to. We need to find out if he called anyone after he left here. And I’ll call Noah and find out if he had the missing notepad on him.”
They went back downstairs and Sean remembered that Tony had asked Bridget Weber more questions.
“Ms. Weber, when Agent Presidio returned, what did he ask you?”
“He wanted to know if she thought someone was following her. Specifically, he asked me if she was being stalked. And one more thing—how far back she kept her fan mail.”
“We took all her mail,” Suzanne said.
“Yes, and I told him that. He wanted to know about when she was a reporter, before she wrote the McMahon book. I didn’t know, but I can’t imagine that she’d keep anything that long.”
Suzanne and Sean thanked the sister for her time and walked out.
Sean said, “Did you have any indication that Weber was being stalked?”
Suzanne shook her head. “No police reports, no restraining orders,