Stalked - By Allison Brennan Page 0,91
she’d seen the name recently. In a newspaper article?
In Tony’s notes.
The name Todd had been in Tony’s original file, the one that had been stolen from his office.
Lucy carefully read Alexis’s entire file, focusing on the background check from her childhood. And there it was:
Camille Todd.
When Alexis was seventeen, her twelve-year-old sister, Camille, was abducted—one week before Rachel McMahon. But Camille’s body wasn’t found for nearly a year.
There was nothing else in Alexis’s file about her sister’s murder. Alexis went to college, moved to Denver, and seemed to have no contact with New Jersey after. Her father remained in Trenton, retired career military, and her mother remained in Newark, where she’d died of breast cancer three years ago. Alexis had a brother, Kip, who lived in New York—
—Kip Todd. Weber’s research assistant.
Suzanne had mentioned him when Lucy and Sean were in New York Saturday. He was a grad student at Columbia and would know how to make Weber’s files disappear in archives.
“I got it, Noah,” Lucy said. “Can you check if there’s a federal case on the abduction and murder of Camille Todd? Same year as Rachel McMahon.”
Noah typed. “We have a file. Give me a minute to access it. What did you think of the sketch Sean sent? Did you recognize her?”
“Sketch? I didn’t get anything from Sean.” She looked at her phone. No service.
On Tony’s computer she logged in to her personal e-mail account. Sean had sent a picture he’d taken with his phone.
She stared at the image. If she’d seen it on its own, it might look familiar, but because she had just been reading Alexis’s file she knew it was Alexis Todd Sanchez. There were some differences—the nose in the picture was larger and the hair was completely different—but it was her eyes that gave her away.
“This is Alexis Sanchez. She’s in my new-agent class.”
Noah picked up his phone. “Chief?… We have a suspect. Alexis Sanchez. I’ll meet you in your office.”
He turned to Lucy. “You’re certain.”
“Yes. She lived in Newark, where Weber lived. Her sister was abducted and murdered at the same time as Rachel McMahon. Her brother was Weber’s research assistant.”
“There’s no proof that she killed anyone. Where was she Saturday night?”
“In her room. But there are ways of getting around that.” She thought of all the times her group had entered the building together. Only one person needed to use their passkey. “I think I can prove she left.”
“Why would she?”
Lucy walked over behind Noah’s desk and took the keyboard from him. She scrolled through Camille Todd’s file and stopped on the autopsy report. “I have an idea. Camille Todd went missing before Rachel McMahon. Bob Stokes was the responding officer. Because it was a suspected abduction of a child under fourteen, the FBI was called. Tony Presidio was the case agent. One week later, Rachel McMahon goes missing and all resources move to her disappearance.”
“That’s a thin motive.”
“It’s in the autopsy report. Camille was alive for nearly a year after her abduction. When she was found, the coroner determined that she’d been dead for two weeks. Her killer was never found. Rachel died in less than twelve hours, yet the FBI and Newark police focused on finding her. It makes sense—most kidnapped children are killed within seventy-two hours. The more time that passes, the colder the trail gets.”
Noah scanned the report. “They didn’t think there was a connection.”
“Two completely separate cases. But the McMahons had all the attention. The lies, the sex parties, the media—Rosemary Weber—was all over it, relegating Camille Todd to one sentence.”
“I want you in the interrogation.”
She nodded. She could do this.
“I’ll call Suzanne Madeaux and tell her to pick up Kip Todd. Let’s get them both in custody and then piece together the rest of the case. There are some holes.”
“Not as many as you think.”
Noah’s phone rang. “Armstrong.” He listened. “I’ll go. I’m taking Kincaid with me.” He hung up. “Alexis signed out at the gate. O’Neal went to her room and her personal effects are all gone.”
Lucy’s face fell in shock. They were so close to answers! “How did I tip her off?”
“I don’t think you did.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Five Days Ago
I don’t read the newspaper or watch the news, but some events are impossible to miss. For example, I pass by the newsstand on 94th twice every day on my way to and from the subway station. I can’t avoid the over-sized headlines. Things like “President Visits Egypt,” and “NYPD Officer Killed in Gang Shoot-out,” and “Lindsay