The FBI Special Agent Benson Cases Collection

I guess you've already heard. There’s been another body found in the woods. Mauled to death, Dorothy said. Colton County Sheriff Mark Danvers rested up against the desk by the doors. His breathing raspy, he tugged on the plastic cup dispenser and downed two cups of tepid water. Deputy Sheriff Tyler Rodgers peered out of the office and beckoned Mark over to him. Actually, I hadn’t heard yet, Mark said and moved quickly towards Tyler.

The State Police are over at the crime scene. We should head over there now. Tyler sank his cup down onto the desk and grabbed his car keys.

My car’s playing up. Best we take yours, Mark said. He kept his head low and followed Tyler to his cruiser. The drive to the woods took nineteen minutes while the cruiser’s sirens blared. Red lights flashed at the perimeter of the crime scene to announce Officers from the Fire Department had arrived, and a small group of first responders now crowded around a solitary figure on the ground among crisp white snow made scarlet by the victim’s blood.

Mark was exhausted. His feet in the deep snow felt overly heavy, and it took concentrated effort for him to arrive at the scene. The lead Crime Scene Technician Candy Barton approached them on arrival.

Sheriff Mark Danvers, and this is Deputy Sheriff Tyler Rogers. Mark shook hands with Candy and looked at the cordon; a few feet away from the body on the ground. What can you tell us about the victim? Tyler said. Candy turned to look at the victim’s body while the Colton County Coroner Gary Shepherd conducted his initial examination of the remains. She considered her words carefully.

It looks like the victim was mauled to death. Extensive portions of flesh were torn off the skeleton, and the eyes have been gouged out. There's partial decapitation with a blunt instrument which was applied closely to the base of the skull. The victim was probably face down when the instrument struck through the bones.

Mark closed his eyes at the rush of ice cold air which coated him like a second skin. He zipped up his jacket and felt comforted by the softness of the shiny fabric against his fingers. Just like the four unsolved cases last summer, Tyler said. Mark crept closer to Gary who was now hunched over the remains. Hey Gary. Tell me what you see, he said.

Hello, Mark. The decedent is a Caucasian female, aged between twenty and twenty five. Severe blunt force trauma to the skull evident, coupled with facial disfigurement. Time of death was between ten last night and four this morning. I’ll know more once I get the remains back to the lab. Mark had been parked at Low Lake beyond the Ridge at almost four that morning. The murder was horrific. The victim would have screamed from all the suffering. He hadn’t heard any noises which would have alerted him to the incident.

Is it possible that the snow has affected the remains? Mark crouched beside Gary and heard the loud crack of his knee joint as he did so. An old sports injury from when he was at College. Absolutely. I already factored that into my assessment. Gary moved aside as a technician scooped up entrails and blood and slipped them into a plastic bag.

Thank you, Gary. He left Gary to complete his examination. Tyler stepped closer to Candy and she pulled her clipboard up tighter to her coat. She eyed him with curiosity and he slowly backed away. I wanted to know who was first on the scene, he said. Candy looked at the notes and pointed to Officer Ben Hutchins over by the Coroner’s vehicle. Hutchins was here first. Tyler followed Mark over to the Officer, who was about to leave his post. Tyler’s hand on his shoulder brought his sudden movement to a halt.

I understand you were first to arrive at the scene. Tyler, direct and on-purpose, removed his hat and squared off against the Officer, who looked at Mark then straightened out the aches in his back.

That’s right. The call came in just after six a.m. when two men out fishing on their boat pulled it ashore along the path here, and discovered the trail of blood. One of them assumed it was a dead animal. On closer inspection, they realised it wasn’t, and called it in. I have statements from them, which will go into my report. Tyler looked at the mound of scarlet blood-soaked remains on the gurney as the body bag was zipped up and two members of the Emergency Medical Team wheeled it up into the ambulance. Mark felt the cold touch of a fingertip on the right side of his face and flinched from it, while his head moved towards the shore and looked out across Lake Low.

There were two mismatched discarded boots which floated in the water, now visible as the tide brought them to shore. Two left feet, the size a child would wear, in bold multi-colored patterns.

Quickly! Mark ran towards the water. Two crime scene technicians waded into the water and retrieved the boots, and plunged them into separate plastic bags with the water inside them intact. If Mark hadn’t turned to look at the Lake he would have missed the evidence. He was being helped with the investigation into the macabre slaying of the victims. He didn’t know who or what was helping him, or their motivation for doing so.

Chapter 2

This is the latest victim who has been found mauled to death. We can’t handle this by ourselves anymore. I think we need to call in reinforcements before people begin to fear for their lives, Tyler said. Mark looked at the bulletin board and at the faded poster of Jake.

Let’s get the Public Hearing arranged at the Town Hall first. We need to warn people of what’s out there without causing a panic. Mark got on the phone to the Mayor's office and Tyler raced back to his car. If he caught a break in the traffic he would reach the Town Hall before the Mayor, Tony Hardacre’s first meeting of the day. Tony’s slow listing gait showed his paunch before him made it difficult to pick up speed when he walked. Any kind of effort produced a loud wheeze from within his chest cavity.

Mayor Hardacre! Tyler bent forward to grab the man’s coat sleeve. Startled, Tony turned around. Deputy, do we have an appointment? he said. Tyler struggled to regain his breath and stood up fully. He adjusted the weighted belt with his handcuffs and baton attached, and tucked his shirt tails back inside his official issue dark brown pants.

It’s more important than that. We have a situation over by the Ridge. Another body has been found. Mauled to death like the first four victims. Tony paled visibly and leant up against the front desk while the briefcase in his hand flapped wildly as it hit the ground. Tyler picked it up and handed it back to him. Tony wiped the sweat from his face with a stark white pocket square and pushed it deeply inside his left jacket pocket. I’ll have my Assistant put the word out that an emergency meeting is set for tonight. Tony shook hands with him and Tyler left him to gather his belongings.

The Public meeting was called to order at eight p.m. and esteemed members in attendance were Mayor Tony Hardacre, Chandler DeMeer, Samuel Kellerneder, Jim Dahmonn and Mark’s Assistant Dorothy Miller. Also in attendance were Jennifer Strachairn, Bradley Stillman-Peete and Steven Bremner. Before Mark got up to speak, Tony insisted on conducting business as usual.

Mayor Hardacre reviewed Ordinance #8482. We’re agreed. The ordinance would place the 30 mph sign 528 feet east of west city limits. He paused.

Now, onto new business. Sheriff Danvers would like to draw your attention to the situation over at the Ridge, where another victim has been found mauled to death. The floor is yours, Sheriff. Mayor Hardacre sat down sharply while Mark took the podium. The silence in the hall reinforced the respect his Office commanded.

Sorry to take up so much time in the meeting but this couldn’t wait. A fifth victim was discovered mauled to death on the south side of the Ridge. We’re doing all we can to track down whoever is doing this but we don’t have much to go on. I feel it’s becoming out of hand. We’re asking for volunteers to go out with us and search the immediate area surrounding the Ridge. Hushed voices now whispered in the once noisy room.

Heads of the congregation were all bowed as though in prayer. Mark stepped back from the podium, disappointed with their lack of co-operation. He would have to conduct the search himself, along with two Deputies, one Animal Control patrolman and three Officers. I could probably raise ten men from the Steel works tonight if I make a quick call, Jim said. Mark tipped his hat towards him in acknowledgement as Jim had remained seated. Mark looked at the other residents who did not seem concerned by his request for assistance in the manhunt.

Somebody want to tell me what’s going on? Mark said, and gathered his notepad between cold fingers while he waited. Chandler shuffled to his feet. Bradley’s son is missing. Harvey Goldman and his crew have been out searching for him since last night. Mark looked crestfallen. Bradley’s son Dwayne was just nine years old.

Where are Goldman and his crew? He jumped down from the podium and walked towards Chandler. Up by the north side of the Ridge. Mark went towards the door but hesitated. Any of you who have weapons of any kind should do all you can to protect yourselves. It’s not safe over by the Ridge or down by the Skate Park until further notice. I want a six p.m. curfew implemented County-wide as of now. His eyes scanned the faces of those who dared to meet his eyes. Mayor Hardacre stood slowly and his jaw flexed with the strain it took to lift his heft out of the chair.

Who do you think is doing the killings, Sheriff? Tony said. Mark reached for the door handle, its hard round brass felt ice cold in his palm. Whatever it is, it doesn’t look like its being done by a human being. Mark spun around to his left on spur-heeled boots. He left the hall and aimed for his car which was parked just a short walk from the entrance. Samuel motioned to close the Public Hearing and Dorothy seconded the motion. The vote was carried by voice and passed by all. The minutes of the meeting would show the Public Hearing closed at 8:33 p.m.

Dorothy had skittered after him to rest her hand on his shoulder reassuringly. I’ll have my son come and help you too. Mark kissed her on the cheek lightly and she squeezed his shoulder briefly. Get home safely, Dorothy. Before nightfall. She had already begun the short walk home. Her eldest son Maurice would soon come home from work, which consoled her. Anything to avoid being alone in that house.

Colton County Crime Scene Technician Gina Thorne processed the bloody remains of the victim. The damage was extensive, and visible bite marks spread sporadically over the rear of the torso and upper thighs. The victim’s skull was missing the rear portion. Claw marks ran down the shoulders and midsection of the victim’s torso. Proof the victim had lain face-down when the beast had struck. She made a referral for the Forensic Dental Team to examine the bite marks and take impressions for testing.

The previous victims had been unidentifiable due to the extensive damage to their faces, hands and feet. A lack of fingers, feet and teeth meant identification of the remains was near impossible. Limited laboratory work on DNA matching was available but was currently outsourced to the Office of the County Medical Examiner in downtown New York City, and came with an unavoidable delay in processing which stretched upwards of ten weeks.

She set about cataloguing the remains, while tissue, bone, hair and blood samples were taken and sent for processing in the City. A month later the test results of the teeth mark impressions on the victim’s flesh showed they matched the radius of the human jaw. In the previous thirty one days there had been one more body found dumped in the woods behind the Ridge.

Mark drove towards the crime scene at the Ridge while he felt the fear build within him. His tyres spat gravel along the access road to the Skate Park which ran parallel to the train tracks. He passed a hatchback with local plates which was parked at the entrance to the Park, with the Ridge high up beyond it. A blur of movement beside him brought his focus back to his mirrors. He only saw the empty road behind him reflected back at him. He started the steep climb towards the crime scene then parked.

The Crime Scene technicians were low on the ground, lamps erected to flood the dark wooded area with white light. The deep snow had concealed the victim’s remains which now lay bare and exposed to the elements. The State Police had just arrived. Their cars pulled up alongside his and he made his opening gambit while they plodded together towards the cordon. Tire tracks from an all-terrain vehicle visible in the snow lead towards the crest of the Ridge.

The victim is female. County Coroner Gary Shepherd used tweezers to peel back a thin layer of tissue from the jawline. The adult teeth are not present. Mark crouched beside him. The blood-stained remnants of shredded clothing hung from the lower extremities. Panties with flowers in a random pattern. The back of the skull had been ripped off.

The victim was running away when the impact hit. Marks words faltered at the sound of gunshots from high up on the Ridge. Several Police Officers charged upwards to the top of the tree-lined Ridge while the report from the gunshots echoed in the stillness of the icy cold air.

On the ground, a circle of scarlet blood narrowed until it lead a trail towards the crest of the thick wooded hills. Officer Hutchins reached the group of men assembled on the Ridge first and took hold of the discharged weapon as Harvey Goldman backed away, his hands in the air in mock surrender. The group of men stood and looked at the ground while Hutchins emptied the spent cartridges from the barrel onto the ground, then pocketed them.

What did it look like? Did you get a good shot at it? Hutchins said. Harvey held his hands in front of him while Hutchins lowered the weapon into them.

I didn’t see much. Just a black blur that moved fast. Whatever that thing is, it’s wounded now, Harvey said. Hutchins looked at the blood-stained snow. Get out of the woods and leave the Police to do their job, Hutchins said. Harvey chewed gum and stared ahead at the trees. Three of my men are dead. We need the dogs up here to flush it out, Harvey added and lead his men back towards the south side of the Ridge.

We’ll see what the Sheriff has to say about that, Hutchins said to himself. He walked back to the crime scene with his weapon drawn. Hutchins knew Harvey didn’t have a licence or registration or permit for the rifle he carried, and it had been modified to fire cartridges which it was known publicly he had made himself. Harvey had graduated from shooting at cans as a boy to hunting wild rabbits, foxes, and now hunted the predator which stalked the Ridge and had now slaughtered eight victims including three of Goldman’s own men.

Mark took a step forward and stopped. Ice crackled underfoot. He picked up a random shard of glass which formed the base of a bottle and still held its liquid, perfectly frozen. He passed it to a technician and the odor of stale urine hit him. This was a fresh kill. The only odor in the area was of urine. The corpse had not lain in the snow for long.

Coyotes and vultures would prey on the remains if left exposed for much longer. Tyler approached him and his hands gesticulated wildly in front of Mark while his mouth moved. Mark was so tired and cold that he almost couldn’t concentrate on what he was being told. Tell you what, we’ll talk later. Take my car, I’ll ride back with Candy. You get some rest. Tyler’s hand on his shoulder was warm, then he was gone.

Mark headed back to Tyler’s cruiser, his thin frame floating back down the steep slope. He jumped inside and logged onto the dashboard mounted computer. The short form with his request for assistance from the FBI was transmitted within minutes and he started the engine and began to pull away from the Park.

He heard the snap of tree branches above when they connected with the roof of his vehicle as he sped away and felt the familiar dull ache of pain which steadily gnawed at his gut. He took comfort in the fact he had installed a curfew to keep the town folk confined to their residences after nightfall, which would minimise the opportunity for more victims.

His shift was over and he was tired. Eight residents were dead. There was no clear pattern to the cases. The murders were opportunistic. The pain which gnawed his gut told him the slaughter had only just begun.

Chapter 3

The soft music on the radio kept Dorothy company while she washed the dishes. The twinkle of lights outside from the headlights of passing cars served as a reminder that life beyond her four walls existed. Snow on the ground had her confined to her home or the Sheriff’s Office, which was manageable to reach on foot, regardless of the depth of snow out there. Dorothy was almost fifty years old, but moved with the speed of a much older woman. Her aches and complaints increased with each passing year but she remained determined to be of service to the local Police.

Her two adult sons, Maurice and Bellamy, had remained with her after their father’s death from lung cancer twelve years earlier. Maurice brought in decent money working on construction sites and around the town. He dragged dirt and grease into her house but she didn’t care. His overalls were always disgustingly grimy but she washed them faithfully and left them in his room, ready for another days’ work.

Dorothy knew there would come a time when Maurice would leave her, and she panicked at the notion of being unable to live by herself. Her marriage had been strong, and had lasted thirty years. The roof over her head was hers now, free and clear. Dorothy did not need a job, but insisted on being by Sheriff Danvers’ side to repay him for looking out for her sons. Anything to avoid being in the house by herself during the day. The radio helped to mask the eerie noises the house made, which scared her. There was a vengeful presence in the house but she did not know if it served the masters of good or evil. She kept her lights on at night and her bible was never far away.

Outside her gate, two dogs snapped their jaws at each other. One black, the other almost white against the snow, they tumbled and rolled before their owners arrived to pull them apart. She busied herself at the sink and hummed along to the radio. Maurice’s key in the door startled her. Her hand flew to her crucifix on its thin gold chain around her neck. Maurice had the phone to one ear and was surprised to see her still up and busy in the kitchen. She was usually in bed by this hour. He ended his phone call and embraced her briefly.

It’s late. What are you doing? Dorothy rested her hand on the edge of the sink. I just finished cooking. You hungry, baby? Maurice had opened the fridge door and now had a ring pull from the can of beer in one hand and pulled hard on the can’s mouth. His clothes smelled of old sweat.

Let me wash up first. Fix me a plate, I’ll be back. Maurice left the open can on the table and pulled off his heavy work boots. He dropped them in his path to the stairs and left his overalls on the floor of his bedroom, along with his jeans and shirt. Dorothy followed him to the bedroom and collected the items. While he showered she pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the last number he had dialed. His brother Bellamy's number.

Her youngest son Bellamy had been committed to a psychiatric facility outside New York State. He heard voices and saw things which nobody else could see or hear. Maurice made it his duty to speak with him almost daily. Their bond was strong but even Maurice was anxious for his baby brother's state of health.

The lights went out. Maurice cursed in the shower, and shut it off. Dorothy went to the window. The entire street was in darkness, not just her house. Maurice stood in the doorway, a towel draped around his waist. The whole street just went dark, she said, and sat on his bed. It’ll be alright by the morning. He dried his torso and pulled on a long shirt and clean jeans and pushed his feet into rubber-soled boots. Let me see if I can help anybody else. Come with me, he said, and pulled her to her feet. He could feel her thin frame quiver in his arms.

Hesitantly they moved down to the kitchen and Maurice picked at the pan of meat on the cooker which was still hot, and pushed slivers of chicken into his mouth. Dorothy pulled on her boots and her warmest coat, and pushed her greying hair beneath her woollen hat. Her gloves were in her coat pockets, and Maurice helped her put them on. Within feet of the front door the lights suddenly came back on outside. Maurice turned to look behind him and noted their house was still in darkness. The circuit breaker in the basement must have cut in. Go to Mrs Kaufmann’s and make sure she’s alright. He opened the door and ushered Dorothy outside. Mrs Kaufmann was one of Dorothy's closest friends.

There were other neighbours in the street who stood in differing states of surprise caused by the sudden power outage. She eyed her neighbour Helen Kaufmann’s fur coat enviously and joined her by the side of the mailbox.

Is your power still off too? Dorothy said. Yes. Maurice taking care of yours? Helen said, and craned her neck to look up at the top floor windows of Dorothy’s house. Dorothy didn’t answer. Two dogs ran through the street. One caught up with the other’s tail and nipped at it; the howl and growl from each loud and guttural. The bystanders turned their heads and watched.

What is wrong with the dogs? I’ve never seen Hobart bite like that, Dorothy said, and looked at Hobart while the other dog licked its tail vividly. Each dog’s owner looked forlorn and stepped aside while the commotion formed around them. She didn’t recognise the man with the other dog, a big grey German Shepherd. Hobart, a glossy coated black labrador, looked minuscule beside it.

Maurice climbed down the basement steps and shone his torch at the wooden stairs below him. Blackness all around. He stumbled over the washing basket and a box of long discarded cricket bats and balls, and stepped onto sheets of old newspaper. The rustle of paper against rubber boots echoed through the expanse of the room. The circuit breaker was all the way in the back and to the right side of the room. He took his time to reach the far side of the room, and only stopped once to look at the small window to the left of him. It was open a couple of inches. He reached up and pulled it closed tightly and set about the restoration of the power.

The shaft of light from his torch struck the back wall and he saw the circuit breaker’s grey box on the wall. A couple of minutes later the lights came on in the basement. He shut off his torch. On the way back to the staircase he heard the newspaper rustle. His eyes quickly darted over to the stairs. He did not see anything there. He continued his return to the stairs. Behind him, he heard movement from between the packing crates. He spun around to check, but did not see anything there. He was hungry, tired, and thirsty. He flicked off the lights and headed towards the kitchen.

All the lights were on and the radio had sparked into life. He fixed a plate of food and went to the front door just as Dorothy approached it. He moved aside to let her pass. Dorothy felt something brush past her and enter the house. Maurice had felt it too, and their eyes met in acknowledgment. When they turned to see who or what had passed by them, they did not see anything. Neither of them spoke about it for the rest of the night.

Will Bellamy be here tomorrow? Bellamy was able to see his family while being supervised by Shanice, a Nurse from the facility, just one day per month. Tomorrow was his scheduled day to visit. Dorothy played with her mashed potatoes. Maurice swallowed down warm beer. I spoke to him, and he’s not going to be able to see us this month. Shanice has the grandkids over this week. Shanice Watson often called Dorothy to stop her worrying about Bellamy. Lately, Shanice had become more selfish and had curtailed her courtesy calls. Maurice was left as go-between; relaying messages to Dorothy, which made him feel awkward.

I heard there was another murder up at the Ridge, Maurice said, and put down his fork. He shifted his feet under the table as cramp had began to set in to his calves. I don’t know any more than that, and I couldn’t tell you about an open investigation even if I did know anything more, baby. Dorothy stood and cleared away the plates. Leave them. I’ll take care of it. Get to bed. Maurice was on his feet and helped Dorothy navigate the steep stairs to her sanctuary.

Her bedroom’s position caught the morning sun and bathed her room in its glow while she read her bible and said her prayers. When she locked her door and climbed beneath the covers that night she felt peace wash over her soul. Her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep, while Maurice sat at the kitchen table and read the newspaper. He left all the lights on in the house and lay on the couch with the television left on the home shopping network. He fell asleep after watching fifteen minutes of an infomercial for a toaster oven.

Chapter 4

Can’t the State Police handle it? FBI Special Agent Nick Benson was tired after a twelve hour shift. He looked up at Assistant Director Dirk Blaine and rocked back in his leather chair. Dirk cast his steely eyes downward and Nick understood the severity of the situation. Murders at the Colton County Ridge. The body count had escalated rapidly. It had to be sheer providence that the local news hadn’t locked onto details of the slayings. The town folk were petrified. Media attention would only heighten their terror. He wanted to avoid it.

''Two of the dead could be our missing Agents. I need you on this. Dirk sank into his chair. '‘Why is the Bureau only hearing about this now? Nick stood and fastened his jacket, and collected his car keys from his desk. He swept his fingers over the picture frame to the left of his blue ceramic FBI emblazoned cup, its two day old contents dark and viscous.

Sheriff Danvers called it in. Eight residents are now dead. You’re going to help them find whoever is responsible, and that’s the end of the discussion. Dirk folded his arms across his torso and stared Nick down. The two men were notoriously stubborn. Nick capitulated first, and headed for the office door. You owe me for this, Nick said over his shoulder. Dirk shuffled papers on his desk and gave Nick an upward nod of his head in acknowledgement as the door closed.

Nick had to make a quick detour before he could drive up to Colton County. He swung by the florists on the corner of Lafayette and Broadway in Manhattan. He chose a flamboyant arrangement of red roses interspersed with vibrant green leaves and left a hefty tip. He had a slight uptick of energy that day, and inhaled the intoxicating scent of the flowers as he placed them on the car seat and started the engine. Finkel would already be on her way to the office downtown if he didn’t rush home first.

Why don’t we get together later? I’d love to hear more about your plans. Finkel ran the comb through her wet hair and settled on the couch. Her friend Marcy was about to go on vacation with a man she had met just three months earlier. Her phone call ended and she concentrated on getting dressed. She heard Nick in the hallway and peered out at him, her body shielded by the bedroom door.

Good morning Mrs Benson. Nick wrapped his arm around her waist and gave her the flowers. Her minty fresh thank you kiss delighted him, and he pulled her into his embrace and swept his tongue and lips up her neck. The tingle of anticipation resonated deeply within him.

Good morning Mr Benson. She released her hold on him and took the flowers to the kitchen. She hadn’t been in the kitchen for very long when she heard Nick talking animatedly on the phone. Dellory, an ex-Marine friend of his had arranged to meet up with them at the weekend, but Nick had backtracked on their plans. His conversation sounded loud and angry, which brought her back into the room. Nick was on the couch, his jacket off, and his back crouched over the table in front of it while he wrote notes on the newspaper.

What’s happened? Her concern made Nick turn to face her. She relaxed when she saw the expression on his face. He was joking about canceling their weekend plans. Her concentration went back to the flowers. After a few minutes she was dressed and ready for work. Her commute to the NYPD’s Downtown office would be effortless with zero stress given the early hour.

Nick took in the full view of his wife. Her caramel skin, and dark eyelashes which graced brown almond shaped eyes above high cheekbones. Her slender frame and small waist enticed him. She was about to leave for work. He was out of time, and got to his feet. The shrug of his shoulders betrayed his intentions. He wanted her. Finkel tried to mask her hesitation and averted her eyes. He didn’t fail to notice, but hid his pain from her. She had seen his eyes dart away from her face, and knew he had felt rejected. She’d hurt him, unintentionally.

I can’t be late for work today, that's all. Finkel waved her hand in front of her and stepped into the bathroom. Nick was disappointed. He’d wanted to spend a few more minutes with her before his case took him Upstate.

Honey, I have to go. I got a case Upstate. Colton County. Finkel looked at the floor. Colton County. The flash of recall told Finkel the ‘Pandora’s Box’ case from years ago took place there.

What’s the case? She came over to him and held his hands in hers. His demeanour had shifted downwards, and the energy between them had also dipped. The case was something serious.

A suspected wild animal has slaughtered a growing number of victims. I have to go up there and check it out. He kissed her forehead lightly and went towards the bedroom to throw some clothes into a bag.

When will you be back? The case could take months to be solved. Nick had to be considerate of her feelings. Spending time apart had driven a wedge between them in recent months, and being settled in New York City after they had spent six years in Washington DC had been stressful for them.

I’m not sure. The case could take a while to sort out. I’ll keep you updated, don’t worry. Finkel ran the risk of being late for work. I have to go but call me as soon as you can. She