8:24 AM; CLINSTONE POLICE DEPARTMENT, LAB
“Hey, Bo,” Thomas Smalls greeted over the phone.
“Hey, Uncle Tom,” Bo said. In his left hand, he held the business card between his thumb and forefinger.
“Can I assume this isn’t a call where we just get to catch up?”
“Well, you can ask whatever questions you want. I’ll answer them, and then you have to answer one of mine.”
Thomas chuckled. “How’re the twins?”
“Good and healthy. Castor’s getting closer and closer to walking every day. Did you get the picture I sent this morning?”
“Of him in the shirt I bought him? I did. He’s adorable, Bo.”
“He is,” Bo agreed. “Pollux is still in his crawling phase, but he’s already busy trying to wreak havoc on everything he can get his little baby hands on.”
“Yeah, that’s babies for you,” Thomas said. He sighed softly. “All right. Whaddya need?” he questioned.
“Did you work the Casanova case?” Bo asked.
“Uh, most of it. I hadn’t even gone back to work after my attack when they caught him,” Thomas said.
“Did you ever… have an inkling that it wasn’t him?
“I always… felt it wasn’t right, I suppose, but my mind certainly wasn’t in the right place to be making those kind of assumptions,” Thomas said.
“What is it that made you feel it was wrong?” Bo questioned.
“His confession didn’t seem right. It was on live TV after he was arrested and it didn’t feel right,” Thomas said. “Why?”
“Because I’m going through a homicide victim’s clothes, and I’ve just pulled a little business card out of her jeans. Would you like to guess what it says?” Bo asked.
Thomas swallowed. “ ‘Casanova. For a good time, call fuck you’, right?”
“That was never on the news,” Thomas said. “The business card was. The media kept referring to it as his calling card. But what it said was never on the news.” He sighed heavily. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered.
“So… how much do you love me?”
“Depends on the day. What do you want?”
“The case files on the Casanova.”
“I’ll have to talk to Chris. I don’t have them,” Thomas said. “Not to mention that I don’t work with the FBI any more.”
“No, but you still matter to them, and you said it yourself that they bring you in for the big cases,” Bo said.
“Well, yes.” Thomas cleared his throat. “Does that mean you want FBI help with this?”
“Umm, no, not yet. I need to tell Jake before I can actually answer that.”
“It isn’t your call.”
“Right,” Bo said. “But, you know, we don’t have proof it’s the same guy. This guy could be really good at… guessing?” he suggested.
Thomas snorted. “Sure. I’m sure that’s it.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll keep you updated, okay?”
“No problem, kiddo. I’ll talk to Chris and see if there’s a ball we can get rolling here. I’ll do my best, all right? And then I’ll call you.”
“Sounds good, Tom. Thank you. Again.”
Thomas chuckled softly. “No problem, again. I’ll talk to you soon.”
After Thomas ended the call, Bo set his phone on the table. “He’ll talk to Chris and see what he can do without actually telling them that they might’ve put the wrong guy away.”
“That isn’t going to be easy,” Jensen said.
“No, not at all, but Chris trusts Tom with his life. He trusts his instincts, too. If he asks for something, I don’t see Chris putting up too much of a fight,” Bo said honestly. He tapped the business card against the table, running a gloved finger over the text. “ ‘For a good time, call fuck you’. From his very first kill, he was willing to taunt the police.”
“Pretty ballsy for a new killer,” Jensen noted.
“Exactly. He either wanted to get caught, or he knew there was no way they’d be able to catch him.”
“Well, he didn’t leave behind any DNA at our scene. I imagine it was the same originally, right?” Jensen asked. Bo only nodded. “How’d they get the guy they have now?”
“He confessed to the murders on TV,” Bo said quietly.
“Why confess if you didn’t do it?” Jensen asked.
Bo let out a soft sigh. “Fame? Someone convinces you that you did do it? Someone threatens you so you take the fall? You’re convinced you did it?” He lifted his shoulders. “Some people confess to crimes for the sheer purpose of ending up in prison for the health care,” he added.
“Fair enough. Too many options to settle on just one.”
“Pretty much,” Bo agreed.
“So… do we tell Jake?” Jensen questioned.
“Not yet. I think we should wait on that. Let’s see what Tom can do first,” Bo said.
The younger man nodded, draping an arm over the back of Bo’s stool. “What’s the plan while we wait?”
“I can see if I can get into her phone, or I can start with her Instagram and Facebook,” Bo said. “And you can go on upstairs, find out who her family or friends are, and give the closest member a call,” he said.
Jensen sighed quietly. “I don’t wanna go back upstairs,” he whispered.
“I know, love,” Bo murmured. “How about… you stay down here with me just a bit longer, okay? And then you can go upstairs and find her family.”
“Thank you.” Jensen shook his head. “I don’t know if I can work with this Ryan guy, Eli.”
“Give it a try, okay? Sometimes, it just takes a while for the wrinkles to get ironed out. I mean, look at Gwen and me. She wanted me dead when she first met me. She hated me from the moment she saw my face. Now she saves the best parts of a case for me. We’re like… Well, we’re workplace friends. Just, you know, give it some time, but if it gets to be too tough, you let me know, and I’ll handle it.”
“Okay.” Jensen laid a hand on Bo’s cheek, kissed him softly. “How about we go on and surf through her social media?”
Bo nodded. “Sure. Let’s put her clothes bag in the evidence bags. Then we’ll do a bit of social media surfing.”
9:50 AM; WASHINGTON, D.C., J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING, PARKING LOT
“Cross!” Thomas exclaimed, jogging across the parking lot to catch up to his former partner, Chris Cross.
Chris smiled. “Hey, Blue Eyes,” he greeted. He stopped walking, turning to face the scarred man. “What can I do for you?”
“Do you, uh, remember the Casanova case?” Thomas asked.
“Think you can get your hands on the case files for me?”
Chris raised an eyebrow. “For?”
“I don’t know yet. Just trust me?” Thomas questioned. “I know that’s asking a lot, but… but this could be important.”
Chris glanced back at his place of work before nodding. “Yeah, I can manage that. Give me half an hour?”
Chris smiled. “No problem, Smalls.”
9:23 AM; CLINSTONE POLICE DEPARTMENT, LAB
Bo looked down as his phone rang. Thomas’s name flashed across his screen. He slid his thumb across the bottom of the screen and pressed the device to his ear. “Hello,” he greeted.
“I got ‘em,” Thomas said simply.
“It doesn’t really take much to convince Chris I’m doing something important,” Thomas admitted. “Do you… want me to fly out there?”
“If you’d like. You can sleep at the house tonight, too. The upstairs is being renovated, so you can take my bed or the couch.”
Thomas chuckled. “I’ll take the couch, kiddo. I’ll see you… maybe around four or five this evening? I have to run home and pack a few things.”
“Sounds like a plan, Tom. Thank you for this.”
“My pleasure, kiddo. I’ll see you tonight,” Thomas said before ending the call.
Bo set his phone down, sighing softly. Jensen had gone upstairs only ten minutes ago, ready to find the closest family of Hanna Davidson. In their social media search, they had discovered that Hanna was incredibly active. She rode a bike everywhere, which was why Bo assumed she hadn’t shown up when Gwen had searched for a match through the DMV. She simply didn’t drive.
Bo pushed himself to his feet, closing his laptop and shoving his phone into his back pocket. He figured he’d go upstairs and see how Jensen was coming along with the search. If nothing else, sitting and waiting with Jensen was better than sitting alone and waiting.
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