Chapter 35
THEY BROUGHT ANITA BENNETT in for questioning at 10:15 P.M. They did it properly, two dark-clad FBI agents appearing on her doorstep and requesting her presence at the FBI field office. It was difficult to say no to FBI agents and finally, shaking and uncertain, Anita had acquiesced, kissing her husband lightly on the cheek, telling him it was nothing, she’d be home shortly.
The investigative team was already waiting in the Boston field office. Special Agent Adams, Special Agent Hawkes, then Tessa and Wyatt. They were seated in the viewing room, another trick of the trade—forcing the suspect to confront a new set of interrogators, which would add to her confusion.
The FBI had a dedicated fraud squad, a whole team of financial wizards who lived and breathed corporate embezzlement, money laundering, white-collar crime. It had been Special Agent Adams’s idea to let them take the lead—they could ask more specific questions concerning Denbe Construction’s P and L. Also, if they could keep Anita on the defensive, switching up focus while retelling parts of her story to a fresh set of investigators, they increased the odds of her tripping up, muddling a minor detail that might open major floodgates to what really happened to Justin and his family.
One thing they all agreed on: Time was ticking.
Ransom exchange was now a mere seventeen hours away. The life insurance company had agreed to play ball, but the overall mood remained skeptical. The terms of the exchange were too broad, with not enough safeguards for the Denbe family in place.
And now, given this whole embezzlement angle… Wyatt had already expressed what most of them feared: The kidnapping was not a kidnapping case at all. Ransom was merely a smokescreen to cover the real motive: Anita Bennett had been stealing from Denbe Construction for the past two decades. Justin had finally caught wind of the scam, perhaps even confided in his wife, Libby. Meaning he and his family now had to disappear. Their untimely demise might invite undue attention from the police. Hence a kidnapping for ransom. How many times had Anita herself tried to say Justin’s disappearance might have nothing to do with the firm, that he was a target simply because he was wealthy?
And of course, in kidnapping-for-ransom cases, exchanges didn’t always go as planned. Sometimes, wealthy victims even wound up dead. Say, Justin, Libby and Ashlyn Denbe. Tragically killed, 3:00 P.M. tomorrow, during a botched rescue attempt.
The firm would soldier valiantly on, Anita Bennett now securely ensconced as CEO, where her first major decision would be to fire Ruth Chan. Then, the firm would be all hers, as well as her eleven-million-dollar secret.
A lot of motive for murder. Certainly, entire families had been killed for less.
Anita Bennett was escorted to the interview room. The two agents, Bill Bixby and Mark Levesco, produced paperwork. Anita agreed to be interviewed on camera. She’d been informed of her rights, understood anything she said could and would be used against her in a court of law. She could end the interview anytime and maintained the right to call an attorney. Anita signed the form. They were off and running.
Bill was an older agent, Mark his younger counterpart in a pink-and-gray Brooks Brothers tie. Bill took the lead, striking a collegial tone. Sorry to interrupt Anita’s evening. Thanks so much for her cooperation. Surely she understood time was of the essence and they were all working diligently toward the safe return of Justin, Libby and Ashlyn Denbe.
Anita nodded. She’d changed out of her church clothes from the morning for a somber pair of gray knit slacks and a blush-colored turtleneck. She looked older to Tessa, as if the day had already worn her down. She also appeared wary, her face clearly guarded as she accepted Bill’s statements but didn’t immediately gush information.
The FBI had had only six hours to prepare for this moment, but they’d done their homework well. The second Tessa and Wyatt had called Nicole Adams with news from their interview with Ruth Chan, the CFO had been whisked off to the Boston field office, where she’d spent the next few hours ensconced with the financial agents, going over the books and explaining what she’d found. Additional agents had immediately pulled Anita Bennett’s records, compiling lists of bank assets, major purchases and, of course, trips to the Bahamas. They were still only at the tip of the iceberg, according to Special Agent Adams, but given the time pressure, they decided it was better to ambush the COO sooner versus later.
They weren’t as interested in a confession of corporate embezzlement as they were an admission of a physical address for the safe return of the Denbe family.
And they still had a few tricks up their sleeves.
Anita’s initial responses were pretty much as Tessa had anticipated. Collegial cop, Bill, wrapped up his spiel, and young guy, Mark, started to smack down financial reports. What did Anita know of this transaction? Was she aware of this vendor? Had she heard of this company? Where was she on June 12, 2009? What about this project, what about this new automobile, what about this transaction, had she really visited the Bahamas twice in 2012, on and on.
Anita started with denial, transitioned to confusion, then appeared simply shell-shocked as Levesco rained down piece after piece of the embezzlement puzzle. Sixteen years of phony invoices from nonexistent vendors.
“What? I would never.”
Over eleven million dollars defrauded from Denbe Construction, then funneled through offshore bank accounts.
“I don’t even know how to do something like that. I’m in operations, not finances. I don’t even know our billing systems anymore.”
During which time, Anita purchased several cars and one house as cash transactions.
“My husband and I are debt averse. If you look at my bonuses for each of those years, you’ll see we paid for those items with legitimate income.”
Three kids paid through college.
“I make a good living. Again, look at my tax returns. Six hundred thousand in salary covers three kids in college.”
The scholarship for her youngest?
She flushed. “I’ve already spoken to two detectives about that. Justin offered the scholarship to my youngest son. His decision, not mine.”
Interesting, since Justin wasn’t around to comment.
“Ask Ruth Chan! She issued the checks. Signed by Justin. She’ll vouch for the arrangement. It was hardly a secret. Everyone in the company knew.”
And eight vacations in the Bahamas in the past six years?
“We like the warm weather. Besides, it was nice of Justin to offer his time-share.”
A small hiccup. The Denbes had a time-share in the Bahamas? News, but given all the ground they’d been racing to cover in just forty-eight hours, hardly surprising that they’d missed it.
Last visit by Anita Bennett was for fourteen days.
“My husband was still recuperating from open-heart surgery. The time away was good for him.”
Paid off one hundred thousand in hospital bills.
“And if you’ll look at my savings account, you’ll see the hit!”
Which was true. While it would’ve been nice to magically discover Anita had eleven million dollars sitting in the bank, her finances were currently depleted. Then again, according to Ruth Chan, the embezzlement money had been sitting in a bunch of fake corporate accounts in the Bahamas until just five days ago. A defrauder who’d been smart and disciplined enough to keep the illicit gains at arm’s length was hardly going to dump them into personal savings now. Most likely, the funds had been moved to a single new account under an alias, probably at another offshore bank. The FBI would work on tracking that next, but such things took time, not to mention a bit of luck.
Poker or blackjack?
“What?”
Receipts. Ten years of receipts for the Mohegan Sun Resort and Casino?
“I was entertaining clients! I don’t gamble. I work in construction. That’s risky enough!”
Brand-new 2008 black-on-black Lexus. Cash.
“My oldest son. His college graduation present.”
New 2011 Cadillac Escalade.
“For Dan. His other vehicle was seven years old!”
Which brought them to a Florida condo in 2010, a Mazda Miata just four months ago. On and on Levesco went. Fake billings here. New purchases for Anita there. Tessa had thought the COO would grow more defensive. Clam up. But instead, Anita picked up her own tempo, until she was matching the younger FBI agent beat for beat. Which was impressive, really. Not just the amount of money that Denbe Construction had paid out to fake vendors each year, but how unapologetically Anita spent her own income. She made a good living, as she informed her interrogators again and again. Salary, bonuses, lawfully declared on her taxes year after year. And, yes, she spent her money on her family. Houses, cars, vacations. She worked hard, they lived well. She had nothing to be ashamed of.
Around and around they went. Consistent denials of embezzlement, full admissions of major purchases. Finally, Tessa glanced over at Special Agent Adams and nodded once. Nicole had been expecting the signal. She picked up the phone and buzzed the room next door.
Two agents appeared in the hallway. They had Daniel Coakley, picked up fifteen minutes after his wife, between them. Now they led him past the interview room, just as the older FBI agent, Bill, opened the door, ostensibly to get something to drink.
Anita looked up. Spotted her frail husband walking past, and froze.
“What…what is he doing here? You didn’t tell me!”
“Eleven million dollars stolen,” Mark stated crisply. “A family of three, vanished. Do you really think we’re going to leave any stone unturned?”
“But Dan’s health! You can’t interview him. His heart. He gets tired, he needs to rest.”
“And we need answers, Anita. By three P.M. tomorrow. We’re going to keep going till we get them.”
In that instant, watching through the two-way glass, Tessa felt bad for Anita Bennett. She even felt guilty, as bringing in Dan had been her idea. But if she’d expected the older woman to cave, to magically confess all, she was mistaken.
Instead, Anita Bennett simply shook her head. “But I can’t give you answers. I didn’t steal from the company. I didn’t even know funds were missing. And I don’t know what happened to Justin. I didn’t do this. Justin is like family to me. And I take care of my family. Just look at my financial record. That is what I do. Work hard and tend to the ones I love. You can’t squeeze blood from a stone, Agent. You can’t squeeze blood from a stone.”
She stared up at both FBI agents beseechingly.
And in that moment, Tessa, who never trusted anyone, believed her.
“Damn,” she murmured.
Wyatt, who was seated beside her, seconded the motion.
THEY KEPT ANITA BENNETT TILL MIDNIGHT. Then, when her story and her husband’s story never wavered, Nicole Adams personally escorted both back to their home. The task force remained at the conference room table, but no one had anything to say.
“We’ll keep digging,” Nicole’s partner, Special Agent Hawkes, offered at last. “Get an agent down to the Bahamas, see if we can get a description of the person who closed out all the shell accounts. It’s a new lead; we just need more time to chase it.
No one stated the obvious: They didn’t have more time.
“Let’s talk three P.M. phone call,” Wyatt suggested.
Hawkes obliged: “I’m thinking the call to Justin Denbe’s cell will come from a restricted number, probably from another iPhone, given the FaceTime feature. We have Justin’s cellular company on standby to assist us with tracing the source of the call through triangulation of cell towers. That takes time, however, so we’ll want to keep the caller on the phone as long as possible. Ask questions, maybe get confused about the wire transfer numbers, require clarification.”
“We have ten minutes max,” Tessa pointed out. “Remember the instructions: By three eleven the ransom funds must be transferred, or the first member of the Denbe family…”
“You’re thinking of taking the call in the Denbes’ town house?” Wyatt asked Hawkes.
“That’s our current plan.”
Wyatt was quiet for a moment. “Why?”
Hawkes frowned. “Why not?”
“I’m thinking the action is up north. The jacket tossed in central New Hampshire. The requirements of the hideout location, given the logistics of housing that many people while remaining out of sight of cops, locals, et cetera. You take the call here, and odds are, you’re at least three hours away from the party. Or, say, you bring Justin Denbe’s iPhone to my offices. Still take the call, no problem, but now be closer to the heart of the matter.”
Tessa perked up. She hadn’t thought about that, but she liked it. “Their instructions don’t cover where we or the phone have to be,” she pointed out. “Nothing stopping us from heading north.”
Nicole Adams had returned, was standing in the doorway. “I wouldn’t want to spook them,” she said cautiously. “This is the one contact we get. If we do something unexpected, even if not explicitly against their instructions…” She let the rest of the warning go unsaid.
“Nine million dollars is a lot of reason not to spook too easily,” Wyatt commented.
“Or we do what they’ve been doing,” Tessa interjected with growing excitement. “They’re sending us video with tight focus, little background, right? We can do the same. We’ll grab artwork from the Denbes’ town house, say…the big print of the red flower that hangs in the family room. Stick it on a wall in your office”—she glanced at Wyatt—“and take the call there. Just enough background to be familiar. Might be interesting, actually, to have the kidnappers think the task force is safely tucked in Boston, when really, we’re three hours north.”
“Steal a page from their book,” Wyatt murmured. “I like it.”
“Unless their demands involve activity down here in Boston,” Hawkes warned.
Wyatt shrugged. “You have a whole field office of agents five minutes from the Denbes’ town house. What can’t they handle?”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
They all looked at one another.
“Makes me feel like we’re finally doing something other than play catch up,” Wyatt said at last. “All along, the kidnappers have been calling the shots. They say jump, we say how high. Now, I don’t know how much this will help us in the end, but…it’s something. I’d like to feel as though we’re doing something.”
They agreed.
Tomorrow, 8:00 A.M., they’d reconvene at the Denbes’ town house. Take the phones, borrow a painting and stage their own video conference call at the North Country sheriff’s department.
Tessa liked it. Less than fifteen hours now. Then the task force would take on the kidnappers. At stake, an entire family. Including fifteen-year-old Ashlyn Denbe, reading her own ransom instructions, the look on her face when she reached the death clause…
They would do this. Wire the money, receive the Denbes’ location, then rescue the family safe and sound.
Unless of course, this whole thing was really about the embezzled 11.2 million dollars.
In which case, they would never see the Denbes alive again.