Chapter 28

“This high rise has seen better days,” Seth said as Brogan turned into the apartment complex where Isadora Alonso lived.

Some residents had tried to brighten the fa?ade with window boxes, but the overall effect only drew attention to the drab exterior. Brogan pocketed his keys as he joined Seth on the pavement.

“What apartment does she live in?” Seth walked beside him into the building.

“1436.” Brogan stopped by the elevators. He punched the up button. Nothing. Seth did the same on the adjacent elevator. Again nothing. A second try netted the same results.

Brogan groaned. “You up for a climb?”

Seth shrugged. “I haven’t worked out today.”

Brogan pointed to the stairwell door. “Me either.”

The two of them headed up the stairs. The unairconditioned stairway was stifling, adding to their discomfort.

With a sigh of relief, Brogan pushed open the door for the fourteenth floor. In the cooler corridor, he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “I need to hit the gym more.”

“In this heat, it wouldn’t matter too much.” Although Seth’s cheeks were flushed, he wasn’t breathing nearly as hard as he was.

Brogan paused, wanting to catch his breath before approaching the apartment. The smell of cigarettes and cabbage assailed his nostrils.

“Ready?” Seth smoothed back his hair with the heels of his hands.

“Sure.” Brogan used the tail of his shirt to blot his face, re-tucked it into his khakis, then moved down the hallway toward number 1436.

The apartment had a brightly painted red door with a small grapevine wreath that sported dried sunflowers. His knock brought no one to the door. After exchanging a glance with Seth, he knocked harder.

Close to the door, he detected footsteps approaching the door from inside the apartment. The door opened a crack. “What do you want?” The woman kept the security chain firmly in place, allowing only a small sliver of her appearance to show.

“I’m Brogan Gilmore, and this is Seth Whitman. We’re with the Northern Virginia Herald.”

“I don’t want subscription.” The woman started to close the door.

“We’re not selling subscriptions. We’re looking for Isadora Alonso.” Brogan held his breath that she wouldn’t shut the door.

“Why?”

Brogan drew in a deep breath. “I’m looking into the disappearance of Jesse Thompson.”

The door slammed shut.

Seth raised his eyebrows, and Brogan shrugged. He lifted his hand to knock again, but the door’s chain rattled. He lowered his hand as the door swung open to reveal a woman with jet black hair liberally sprinkled with grey and sharp dark-brown eyes. “Come in.”

Brogan entered first with Seth behind him. The small, immaculate apartment had worn carpet and beige walls enlivened by brightly colored prints obviously done by children. The woman gestured toward the gray couch. “I am Isadora Alonso.”

“Thank you for seeing us,” Brogan began with a smile. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”

Ms. Alonso regarded him steadily, her eyes boring into his own. “Before I answer your question, I have one for you. Why you want to know about Jesse?”

Brogan stuck to the current facts. “Melender Harman’s out.”

The former nanny frowned. “Such a sweet girl. She should never have gone to prison.”

That statement told Brogan where Alonso’s loyalties lay. He gambled that the former nanny would be candid with him. “I agree with you.”

Surprise wreathed her face. “It’s about time somebody did.” She squared her shoulders. “Yes, you may record. What would you like to know?”

Brogan opened the app on his phone and activated it, then stated the date, time, place, and those present. “In your statement to the police, you said Jared had been left in charge of Jesse and Jillian.”

“Yes,” Isadora said.

“But why didn’t anyone question Jared about that?” Brogan asked.

The nanny shrugged. “I don’t know. When the ransom note came, so did the FBI. The agents asked me over and over about where Melender was. They ask did she like the kids, stuff like that. I tell them Melender was at graduation party, but Jared was home with the little ones. Those agents think because English is not my first language, I don’t understand the questions. But it is them who did not understand me.”

Brogan exchanged a look with Seth. “Do you recall if anyone corroborated Melender’s story of being at the party?”

“Not that I recall.”

“According to Jared’s statements to both the police and FBI, he wasn’t home that night,” Brogan said.

Isadora snorted. “That one was bad news.”

“Why do you say that?” Brogan had come to the same conclusion from his own research.

“Jared did drugs. He broke his leg skiing, then he pretended to be in pain after his recovery to get more drugs. The doctor would not give him more, but Jared got them from someone.” Isadora spoke so matter-of-factly that Brogan suspected she had first-hand knowledge of such a slide. “My nephew was same, only he overdosed. I tried to tell Mrs. Thompson about Jared, but she said it not my business. I knew Melender. She loved Jesse.”

Beside him, Seth shifted on the sofa and spoke for the first time. “What do you think happened to him?”

The nanny stayed silent for a long moment. “I think he died, maybe by accident.”

“With the kidnappers?” Brogan asked.

“My family comes from Colombia where kidnappings happen frequently. We still have relatives there and hear the stories.” Isadora shook her head. “The kidnapping, it never felt right to me.”

She raised a possibility that Brogan hadn’t considered. “You think the kidnapping was faked?”

“Yes.” She twisted her hands together.

“Who do you think tried to extort ransom money from the Thompsons?” If he started from another angle, the pieces began to form an entirely different picture in Brogan’s mind

“Mr. Thompson had had an argument with Jared that morning and said he was cutting his son’s allowance significantly. I think his exact words were ‘I will not support your drug habit any longer.’” Isadora sighed. “I told FBI that, and they seemed interested. Later, the agents told me both Jared and Mr. Thompson said I had misunderstood. Then Mr. Thompson told me he was letting me go.”

Brogan tried to hide the excitement over what might be a big break in the case. “So no one really looked into Jared for the kidnapping at the time?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I pray you will find out what happened to Jesse.”

“There are times when I think it will take divine intervention.” Brogan reached for his phone to turn off the recording. “Thank you for your time.”

As Brogan and Seth got to their feet, Isadora stood. “Please tell Melender I’ve been praying for her all these years. I wrote her a few times, but I couldn’t visit, since my documents…”

Brogan didn’t pursue it any further. “I will pass along your words to Melender.”

At the door, Isadora folded her hands. “Please be careful. Digging into the past is bound to make people mighty uncomfortable.”

“Melender can’t be convicted for the same crime twice,” Brogan said.

The nanny wrung her hands. “This time, they might not be satisfied with her as goat.”

“Goat?” Brogan repeated, then got it. “Scapegoat.”

“Yes,” she said. “No, this time, they might just kill her instead.”

* * *

Brogan juggledhis cell phone as he pulled open the stairwell door. “Melender, I thought you’d be at work.” He held the door for Seth, then followed his colleague down the first flight of stairs.

“You’re okay?” Concern laced her words.

“More than okay.” He wanted to take the stairs two at time to run off some of the excitement after the fruitful interview, but his loafers weren’t conducive to that sort of athleticism. “We just had an interesting conversation with Ms. Alonso.”

“The former nanny?”

“Yep, she corroborates your story of the Thompsons leaving Jared in charge of Jillian and Jesse.” Brogan rounded the corner as the sound of sirens came through the phone. “Where are you?”

“At the hospital.”

“Why? What happened?” Brogan halted halfway down the flight of stairs, signaling with his hand for Seth to wait.

“Two men attacked me—” Static swallowed the rest of her words, but Brogan heard enough to dose his euphoria about the interview.

“Are you all right?” He gripped the phone tight against his ear.

Only static came over the line. He tried again. “You’re breaking up. I can’t hear you.” Frustration riddled his body as he pulled the phone away from his ear to gauge the signal strength. One bar wavered, then vanished, taking the call along with it. Brogan groaned and pocketed the phone.

“Is everything okay with Melender?” Seth asked from the twelfth-floor landing.

“She’s at the hospital.” He pushed past Seth and pounded down the stairs.

“What happened?” Seth picked up his pace as well, catching up to Brogan as they passed the eleventh floor.

“Two men attacked her.” At the sound of a door opening, Brogan glanced up as he went down the next set of stairs.

A man dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a skull wreathed in flowers stepped into the stairwell. Unease settled down like a scarf snug around Brogan’s neck, but the man paid no attention to him or Seth, his gaze fixed on his phone. Brogan continued his hurried descent, the other man’s footsteps echoing behind them.

On the ninth-floor landing, a bearded man talked on his cell phone in low tones, nodding at Brogan as he rounded the landing and headed toward the eighth floor. The friendly gesture put him at ease, and Brogan returned to digesting the conversation with Isadora. Why hadn’t the FBI followed up on Jared’s drug habit? He made a mental note to see how often Jared had met with Snake back when Jesse Thompson went missing.

“Brogan, look out!” Seth’s cry nearly came too late.

Brogan gripped the railing hard with one hand as he instinctively dropped into a crouch, but he wasn’t quick enough to avoid a kick that landed against his ribs. The impact loosened his hold on the railing, while a second kick sent him tumbling down the stairs to the next landing.

The man with the skull t-shirt rushed toward him. Brogan scrambled to his feet in time for the man to connect with another kick that slammed him against the wall.

On his feet, Brogan swung his fist into his opponent’s face with a satisfying crack. But the man recovered quickly and responded with a punch to Brogan’s gut, doubling him over. His opponent pressed his advantage by hauling Brogan upright, then wedging his arm across Brogan’s throat, nearly choking off his air supply.

“You know what happens to reporters who stick their noses where they don’t belong?” The man hissed before shoving his arm tighter against Brogan’s throat. Black dots danced along the perimeter of Brogan’s vision. “They don’t live to write another story.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” A male voice shouted as Brogan struggled to breath.

“I’m calling 911,” a different voice said.

“Melender Harman is certainly a pretty little thing. Or at least she was.” His assailant said before delivering another punch to Brogan’s stomach. Then the man was gone, leaving Brogan to slump to the floor.

“Hey, are you okay?” Seth touched his shoulder, his breathing hard and fast. Blood oozed from a cut on his lip.

Brogan nodded, still trying to catch his breath. Two teenage boys stood a few feet away.

“Man, those dudes were scary,” said the taller one.

“Did you call 911?” Seth asked the boys.

“Yeah, ambulance and police on their way.” The other boy peered closely at Brogan. “I thought he was going to choke you to death.”

The other teen held up his phone. “I got it all on video.”

Brogan recovered enough to pull his own phone out of his pocket. “Would you send me the video?”

“Sure.” The teen keyed in the info as Brogan recited his number.

Seth leaned closer to Brogan. “What did he say to you?”

“He warned me away from investigating further.” Then Brogan remembered what else his assailant had said. “I’ve got to check in on Melender.”

Without waiting for Seth to respond, he held up his phone to check the reception. Two bars glowed. Ought to be enough to connect with the outside world. After hitting redial, he put the phone to his ear and braced his aching ribs with his other hand.

“Brogan, what happened?” The concern in Melender’s voice went a long way to soothing his aches and pains.

“We ran into a little trouble.” Brogan succinctly related what happened. “The police should be here soon. How are you?”

“I have a cut on my cheek that the nurse said would need a few stitches. I’m waiting for the doctor now.”

“What happened?” Brogan’s heart hammered as his assailant’s words about Melender’s face came back to him.

“Two men attacked me in the parking lot on my way to the office. They warned me off continuing to investigate Jesse’s disappearance.”

Footsteps clattered on the stairs below and someone called up, “Police!”

One of the teens replied, “Up here.”

“The police are here, so I’ve got to go. You’re not going into work, are you?” Brogan hoped she would head back to his aunt and uncle’s. He desperately wanted to see she was in one piece with his own eyes.

“No, I took the night off.” Melender sighed. “Will you come to the Trents after you get checked out at the hospital?”

“Yes, I’ll see you there soon.” Brogan ended the call as a pair of cops rounded the bend. Despite the soreness in his ribs and throat, a flash of excitement coursed through him. Someone didn’t want them to find out what really happened to Jesse, which meant they were on the right track.