Sounds like your shoe leather might be useful after all, Jack, Naomi suggests. Who were his parents, how did they die, what was his experience in foster care? Maybe somebody from his past would know about personal things, like having a child out of wedlock.
Ill get on it, he says, making an entry in his notebook.
Lets move on to Randall Shane, Naomi suggests.
The photo of the victim is replaced by a recent snapshot of Randall Shane, seen from the waist up and looking very purposeful and muscular. Teddy says, This was posted on the Facebook page of a woman whose daughter was recovered by Mr. Shane, and who was effusive in her praise. Hes camera-shy and asked her to take it down, which she did, but it wasnt deleted from the cache.
We learn that Shane, 46, graduated from a public high school in East Hampstead, Long Island, and eventually from Rochester Institute of Technology in Rochester, New York, with a degree in computer science. While at Rochester he met the woman he would eventually marry. Recruited as a civilian software engineer by the FBI to help modernize their fingerprint database, hed eventually applied to and been accepted as a special agent, in which capacity he continued until the deaths of his wife and daughter, after which he resigned from the FBI.
Thats the standard bio on the guy, Teddy says. Theres more, of course.
Hold on, cowboy, Dane says. Are you telling us that bad boy is a computer geek? With those guns?
Guns? Naomi asks, puzzled. He was unarmed.
Muscles, silly. Dane poses, cocking her right arm. Biceps.
Ah, says Naomi, satisfied. Continue.
Teddy is new enough to the team to still be made uneasy by the frequent, challenging interruptions, encouraged by boss lady, who believes that banter and peer pressure create what she calls free thought radicals. The back-and-forth is all part of her method, which can be difficult for a person as naturally shy as Teddy. He swallows hard, takes a deep breath, finds his place. In those days Shane was kind of a geek at heart, if not in appearance. Thats how the FBI used him, too. He spent about half his career testifying or lecturing on methods of forensic identification, not out in the field. He was basically an expert with a cool badge. They still use his program for the fingerprint database.
Naomi interrupts, as is her wont: Jack? Does that accord with your personal knowledge?
Yep, says Jack, adjusting the crease of his slacks. The kid has it right.
Naomis attention returns to Teddy. Continue.
He takes a breath, nods. So everything changes one rainy Sunday night in New Jersey. Shane and his wife and kid are driving back from D.C. to New York. Mr. Shane at this time works out of the FBI field office in Manhattan.
Theyre in Washington why?
Um, school project for the daughter. Visiting the Smithsonian.
Keep going.
Jersey Turnpike. Shanes feeling sleepy, so his wife takes over the driving. He nods off, and at some point the vehicle is sideswiped by a freight truck. When he wakes up in the wreckage, wife and daughter are both dead. As you might expect, the man himself was a wreck for a while. He resigns from the Bureau and eventually establishes himself as a legendary finder of lost children, but he retains a number of key contacts who still work for the FBI, including the current Assistant Director of Counterterrorism.
A-Dick, Jack says, smiling, throwing it out there.
What?
Thats what they call an assistant director. An AD or A-Dick. Not necessarily a term of affection.
As I was saying, Teddy says, elbowing his way back into the conversation, theres some indication that Assistant Director Bevins is a friend with benefits.
They sleep together?
Past tense, if it happened. But theyre still close.
Jack?
A matter of speculation, he admits with an indifferent shrug. Nobody knew for sure and they certainly werent saying.
Okay. The counterterrorism connection is interesting, given whats happened, Naomi points out. Lets keep that in mind as we move on.
How did he first get in the business of rescuing kidnapped kids? Dane wants to know. Was that part of his purview at the Bureau?
No. Later, after the accident, while he was undergoing therapy for a sleep disorder. An acquaintance asked for help, he managed to recover the child and found a new calling.
Back up there, Naomi says. Sleep disorder?
Yeah. I dont know if its weird or ironic or what, but ever since he woke up from the accident, Mr. Shane has suffered from a peculiar, possibly unique sleep disorder. Like theyve studied him, written articles about it.
Ironic would not be the correct term, Naomi suggests. Tragic would be the correct term. Is that agreed?
Great song, though, Dane interjects airily.
Nuts, Jack says, suddenly animated. If you dont know what ironic means, dont use it in the lyrics. Rain on a wedding day isnt irony, its bad weather. It sucks, but it isnt ironic.
Naomi interjects, Enough on the golden-oldie lyrics. Back to subject, please. Teddy?
A death row pardon two minutes too late is definitely ironic, Teddy points out, in a small, hesitant voice.
Teddy!
Okay, okay. Took a while to separate the facts from the legend, but despite or possibly because of his sleep disorder, which means he sometimes stays awake for days at a time and eventually hallucinates, Randall Shane is considered to be among the best solo operatives who specialize in child recovery.
Not among, Jack says, arms folded. The best, period. Randall Shane is the last of the real kid finders. They broke the mold.
Teddy shrugs his narrow shoulders, as if to concede the point. Unlike many in the field, which can be pretty shady, monetary gain does not seem to be his primary motivation. For him its a calling.
Most of his cases are pro bono, Jack concedes.
Seventy percent, Teddy says.
Whatever, Shane aint about the money. He cant even afford to drive a decent car, Jack says.
Teddy suddenly has a mischievous glint in his eyes. Current ride, a five-year-old Townie, previously registered to John B. Delancey of Gloucester, Mass.
Jack shrugs his wide, well-tailored shoulders, but hes no doubt impressed. Donation to a good cause. And no, I didnt get a tax deduction because Shane has never registered as a nonprofit, although he should.
Teddy keeps going. Current residence, Humble, New York. Small town in the general vicinity of Rochester.
Humble? Dane says, grinning. Is that ironic?
Naomi sighs loudly, which effectively stops the banter. You have more? she asks.
Tons, says Teddy. I found more than a hundred references to the so-called Shanes Sleep Disorder Syndrome. Plus interesting facts on a variety of his cases.
Excellent, but hold for now, Naomi says. Jack, can you bring us up to speed on the murder investigation?
Jack flips open his small reporters notebook. Strictly a prop, in my opinion, but hes never without it. So far everything Shane told me checks out. Cambridge homicide detectives are investigating the death by gunshot of Joseph Keener at his residence on Putnam Avenue, approximately two miles from the campus. The murder happened early this morning. State police are assisting-that means theyll eventually run the investigation, in all probability-and the FBI is all over the scene.
Anybody you know?
Cambridge, affirmative, Staties, affirmative. Im meeting with my state police source this evening. Hopefully hell have more to add.
Anything from your old colleagues in the FBI?
As you know, my former associates are mostly in the Boston field office, and normally the locals would be responding, assuming the murder has some federal connection. But this is a special team sent in directly from Justice. Unknown to me on a personal level.
You make yourself known?
He shakes his head. Not yet. Just to my guy in the Cambridge Major Crimes Unit and he wont mention our interest unless I ask him to. He knows the deal.
Good, Naomi says. Lets stay at arms length from our friends in federal law enforcement until weve had a peek at the big picture. That being said, did you get any sense theyre aware that Randall Shane has been seized and/or arrested by agents unknown?
The opposite. Theres an APB out on him as a so-called person of interest. Hes their prime suspect and they think hes in the wind.
Set the scene, Naomi suggests. Shower us with details.
Theres not all that much, Im afraid. Cambridge police were alerted by a 911 call that originated from the Keener residence at 5:42 a.m. The caller would not give his name, but stated a man had been killed. That was Shane, so theyll have him on digital audio making the call, for whatever thats worth. The first mobile unit responded to the scene in ten minutes or less, found the front door open and the victim facedown in a pool of blood in the hallway, a few yards from the front door. Major Crimes and forensic units arrive, as well as the medical examiner. The M.E. determines the victim died of a single shot to the back of the head. Clotting and body temp suggest hed been dead for no more than an hour or so before the call was made. No weapon recovered at the scene. Detectives did a canvas and his neighbors described him as the usual: shy type, kept to himself, very quiet. No one heard the gunshot.
Any indication of a child in the home?
Jack shakes his head. The investigating detective told me it was the residence of a single man, living alone. Cambridge police are unaware of any missing child connected with the victim. No such report was ever filed. There is no indication of a child in the home, not even a photo. No toys, no games, no bedroom set up for a kid, nothing.
No sign of a child, Naomi muses, keenly interested. How very odd. Two possibilities immediately present themselves. Either the victim has a child and all evidence has been removed from the home-surely hed have pictures even if the mother has custody? or the victim never had a child, certainly not a missing child, and Shane was somehow duped for reasons unknown.
To set him up for murder, Jack suggests.
Naomi nods to herself, tapping her pen, wheels turning. Okay, fine, thats our theory of the moment, in deference to your relationship with the suspect-but he remains a prime suspect unless or until the evidence leads us elsewhere.