Prime Suspect

(Source)

"Where is he?"

"We've got him in a holding cell. Medics were in to take a look at him, the troopers kinda manhandled him out at the scene, but they say he's gonna live."

Captain Leroy Jackson nodded, "Get him to interrogation. I'll be down there in a few minutes."

"Yes Sir."

Jackson walked over to a window and looked out, it was starting to cloud up, the weather guessers were predicting rain. He hoped they were wrong, after this interrogation he had to drive back to headquarters in Pikesville, 135 miles away. He was about to bemoan the fact that he was having a shitty day, then he thought of Corporal Campos' family and his day didn't seem so bad.

He looked at the file in his hand, it was rather thin, but early days yet. It would get thicker. The man's name was Albert Joseph Rossi, retired Navy, he ran a little fishing outfit for the tourists out on the Eastern Shore. He lived simply, had a small house. No living relatives, had never married, had no children.

Jackson looked out the window again, he didn't understand men like Rossi. Were they content to die alone in their dotage? Was that the reason he got involved with this Morgan character? Jackson had five kids, he doted on them. He felt he owed a lot of his success to his wife Althea. If it wasn't for her, he'd probably be content to spend his life as a simple trooper. But she saw something in him, so she pushed. He was glad she had!

What concerned Jackson most at the moment were the identity papers Rossi and the dead man had been carrying. Both had badges and identification showing them to be Maryland State Police, out of Princess Anne, Barrack X. Those were all fake, but supremely done fakes that would fool anyone who didn't bother to check the Maryland State Police database. But why would anyone do that? Their ID papers and badges were that good. That took access to some serious resources.

The dead man had a second set of ID, which the State Police were sitting on, that set of ID showed Morgan to be an agent of the Department of Homeland Security. Which might explain where the two had gotten their fake State Police IDs.

But Homeland Security could operate anywhere, Jackson and his agency were bound to the state of Maryland. It made Jackson's head hurt to think about it. What were the Feds up to here in the Old Line State?

Rossi was nervous, and in a great deal of pain. The troopers hadn't hit him anyplace that it would show, but he was convinced that he had at least two broken ribs. The medics who had patched him had had him stripped naked, even he was appalled at the massive bruising from his knees to his chest.

They'd offered him something for the pain, but he had refused it, thinking that the troopers might drug him up to get him to talk. He knew that sort of thing was inadmissible in court, but he honestly didn't think he'd ever see the inside of a courtroom.

One of the troopers had said to him, "The Chesapeake is pretty big, Lord knows if a fellow goes missing on the Bay, he might never be found, unless he washes up somewhere. Do you know how to swim, buddy? Your pal was lucky, he died quick. Pretty sure you won't."

Now he wished he'd taken the offer  of pain meds, he was really suffering.

"Captain?"

Jackson turned, it was one of his men, Sergeant Burt Anderson.

"Initial forensics are back, can't match the Sig Sauer to Campos, we haven't recovered a slug which isn't deformed. But the dead guy, Morgan, he had gunshot residue on his hand."

"What about the Taliaferro and Lee murders, we must have a slug or two from that crime scene?"

"Yes Sir, but forensics haven't managed to track those down yet."

Jackson paled, "What?" The question was clipped and full of menace.

"Somebody shipped 'em over to McHenry, Barrack W by mistake. I sent one of our guys over to fetch them, but it takes time."

Jackson sighed and visibly slumped against the wall, "Damn, I thought you were going to tell me that they were lost."

"No Sir, just misplaced."

"Okay, I'm going to go talk to Rossi now."

"Uh, Cap'n ..." Anderson began.

Jackson turned, "Now what?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Ramirez called, he says to let Rossi sweat. He specifically said that you were to get some sleep."

"But I need to get back to Pikesville ..."

"Negative Sir, the Colonel said that HQ is coming to you, Colonel Ramirez will be here first thing in the morning."

"The trail can go cold by then." Jackson said, more to himself than anyone else.

"Sir?" Anderson asked.

"Nothing Burt, I'm going to go get some sleep. Wake me in a couple of hours."

"Yes Sir."

As Jackson headed back to the sleeping quarters he realized that so far, he and the trooper who had searched the vehicle were the only ones who knew of the Homeland Security credentials of the dead man. Jackson sensed that this was a lot bigger than some good old boys in Virginia smuggling explosives into Maryland. He was tempted to call the FBI on this, by law he should have, those explosives had crossed state lines.

But he'd heard rumblings that the Feds might actually be behind this escapade. He'd wait until Ramirez arrived, by then he might be rested enough to think straight.

Lord knows, that wasn't the case at the moment.