Deadly Stillwater

“What did the man Burton met look like?” Riley asked. “Height, weight, age, appearance? What did this fuckin’ man look like?”

“Forty-five to fifty, I’d guess. Black hair, graying at the temples, big nose, and he wore glasses. I’d say he was maybe five-ten to six feet tall. That’s a guess based on Burton’s height. They sat eye to eye in the booth, so I assume similar height and weight.”

Riley was suddenly agitated. “Heather, you’re sure?”

Foxx nodded.

“Rock, grab the folder out of the truck.”

“I have everyone here, running the names of the local FBI agents and Burton’s people through Lyman’s files and the department records,” Sally reported to Mac. She flipped through binder-clipped sheets of paper. “Scheifelbein has been running Brown and Mueller against the personnel records for the department for the last hour or so. We haven’t found anything on anyone except…”

“Except who? Duffy? The mayor?” Mac asked, his cell phone on speaker so Lich could hear.

“John Burton.”

“What?” Mac asked in total disbelief. Lich was on alert as well. “You can’t be serious?”

“Yes. Burton was stationed out of the local FBI office here in the early nineties,” Sally said, reading from Hagen’s computer screen.

“What else?”

“He left in August 1992, went to Washington, and moved to missing persons.”

“Moved from what?”

“While he was here, he worked the usual assortment of cases, some missing persons, bank robbery, and drug enforcement.”

“Drug enforcement?”

“Yeah, he worked with the DEA, and that’s where the connection comes in. It’s cryptic, but on a couple of occasions Brown’s name shows up with Burton’s on some drug cases. But then Burton transferred back out to D.C. in August 1992.”

“When did Brown do this drug deal that put him in the joint?”

“Looks like February or March 1992. He had his gambling issues. The record indicates he lost big on a 1992 Super Bowl bet. At that point, he started moving the drugs to cover it.”

“That’s the Super Bowl that was at the Metrodome,” Mac said, scratching his head. “He must have bet heavy on the Buffalo Bills and they got smoked by the Redskins.”

Mac rubbed his bottom lip with his index finger, Burton was in town in February and March of 1992, working drug cases. Both men worked for federal law enforcement out of the Twin Cities at that time. It wouldn’t be that unusual for them to cross paths. Besides, what motivation could Burton possibly have for helping Brown? Even better, what leverage could Brown possibly have to make Burton put his career and life in jeopardy?

“Take a look at Brown’s file again. When did he go to trial and get sentenced?”

Sally looked to Hagen, who found the record and opened it. Sally put her finger to the screen and read down. “Brown went to trial in December of 1992 and was sentenced to fifteen years, which started immediately. He was released this past December.”

Mac thought for a minute, “Sally what does the FBI file say with regard to Brown’s case?”

Sally looked to Hagen and Jupiter, who were opening FBI files, going way beyond what little authority they had, but none of them blinked an eye. After a minute, Hagen said, “Here it is.”

“Hang on Mac. I’m scrolling through it.” It took Sally a few minutes to read through the case summary. As she read the last paragraph she muttered, “Oh my God.”

“What?” Mac asked, hearing her.

“Mac, listen to this, I’m reading from a final report on Brown’s case. ‘Brown sold cocaine with a street value of slightly over $300,000, yet his gambling debts were only $150,000 and there were no financial records for Agent Brown and his spouse that account for the other $150,000. Agent Brown claims to have sold it at a low price, so as to move it quickly and quietly and pay off his debt to his bookmaker. It is possible that Brown took the other half of the money and placed it into a bank account. We have been unable to unearth any records that would support such a transaction. Instead, it is suspected that others may have been involved with Agent Brown. Agent Brown has denied this, despite repeated questioning and offers of a reduced sentence in return for the identification of any accomplices. At this time, there is no evidence pointing to any specific accomplices. In light of this, we consider this matter closed unless Agent Brown chooses to cooperate.’ Mac what if…”

“Burton was the accomplice,” Mac finished for her. It was a stretch, a big one, but it was also plausible. “It’s a big leap, but I can see it. Brown gets out, wants payback, and look who the FBI’s top kidnapping gun is? His old partner in crime, John Burton. So either Burton helps him because he’s his old friend or Brown holds it over his head, threatening to expose him if he doesn’t. However it goes down, he’s had Burton working this thing from the inside, and that mother fucker walks the chief and Lyman right into his hands. It’s possible.”