The Davidson Case

By Julie C. Gilbert

Somebody wants her sister dead ...

FBI Special Agent Ann Duncan knows how to face down danger, but once again, she’s not the target. Her baby sister, Joy Davidson, has stumbled upon a conspiracy and made some powerful enemies.

Luck and God’s grace help Ann save her sister the first time, but she knows the bad guys will try again. With Patrick on a university tour and perhaps the most important case of her career weighing upon her mind, Ann must find the strength, wisdom, and heart to find out who wants her sister dead, what Joy discovered, and how to stop the conspirators. Ann instinctively knows that if she fails the Davidson case will only be the first of many tragedies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Julie C. Gilbert
• Release date: Apr 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310182402

Julie C. Gilbert

Writer, chemistry teacher, Christian

Book preview

To all my students, past and present, for making me laugh, challenging me in inventive ways, and being passionate about life.

Prologue

Davidson Residence

Fairview, Pennsylvania

Carol Davidson stepped onto the back porch carrying her son and saw her two daughters playing near the stream. Joy! Julie Ann! Get away from there this instant! The shout caused young Nicholas to squirm in her arms. Carol’s face turned a lovely shade of pink, matching her happy spring blouse.

Girls are supposed to be easier to raise than boys. How many times have I told them to stay away from the stream?

The girls froze. Their smiles vanished, and they braced for a tongue lashing.

Carol stormed down the steps clutching poor Nick tightly. Her daughters’ half-petrified expressions gave her some measure of satisfaction, but as far as abating anger goes, it was about as effective as spitting at a forest fire. Joy, inside now! she barked, barely looking at her seven-year-old daughter. Carol let Nick climb down. And take Nick with you.

Joy threw a half-mocking, half-sympathetic grin at her sister and did as bid. Normally, Nick would have fought Joy, but today, he meekly took her hand and gazed solemnly at his other sister as Joy led him toward the house.

Carol watched them go before piercing her twelve-year-old daughter with a stare.

Sorry, Julie Ann muttered, avoiding eye contact. The girl’s fiery spirit warred with her common sense. Her expression wavered between innocent and apologetic before turning defensive. But it—

I don’t care whose fault it was this time, Julie Ann. You’re older; she looks up to you—they both do. You’ve got to set an example for them.

It was Joy’s idea! Julie Ann protested.

And it was your job to tell her ‘no,’ Carol replied, her patience waning fast.

I am not her keeper! Julie Ann said, planting her right foot defiantly.

Carol stared hard at her daughter.

Well at least she pays attention in Sunday school …

Grow up! she snapped, immediately regretting it.

Jaw tightening, Julie Ann turned away to hide frustrated tears.

Softening her voice, Carol said, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I—I just worry about you, Joy, and Nicholas. She pulled her daughter into a hug. They’re younger than you, Julie Ann. You’ve got to watch over them.

Chapter 1

Day Off

J. Edgar Hoover Building, FBI Headquarters

Washington, D.C.

No, Special Agent Julie Ann Duncan said firmly. Ann carefully set her expression to say give up. Unfortunately, the expression didn’t quite reach her pale blue eyes, and therefore, George Baker was encouraged to pursue the subject.

Say no and walk away. Say no and walk away.

She hadn’t even heard what Baker wanted, but his expression said quite enough.

If you wait, you’re going to get dragged into some harebrained scheme.

Picking up the file she had come for, Ann neatly sidestepped Agent Baker and took two steps toward freedom.

Did I mention your hair looks beautiful down? asked Baker, spinning as she breezed past him.

Flattery will get you nowhere, Baker, Ann said, pausing against her will. Nevertheless, her left hand brushed a bit of honey brown hair behind her ear. She grunted annoyance at the fact that Baker’s comment had pleased her.

Get a life.

This is my day off, Ann tossed over her shoulder.

I know, I know, and I’ll make it up to you, I promise. But—

But what? Ann challenged, turning to face Baker. She gave a mock groan. The hand holding the forgotten file flew to her head in exasperation. No, wait, let me guess. You’ve got a job for a woman and your new partner looks awful in the outdated dresses they like to use for a disguise around here. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

Agent Baker chuckled softly. Uh-huh. I’ve got nothing against Dodger, but the man hasn’t got a graceful bone in his body. Please, Ann, pleeeeasse! Look, I’m begging you. With that, Baker dropped to his knees and shuffled forward.

Have you no self-respect, man? You’re lucky no one’s here to see you beg.

Despite the fact that she was about to give up her day off, Ann smiled.

Oh, Baker, you really are a big baby.

Suppressed laughter emanated from a supposedly empty cubicle.

Isn’t there some secretary you could bother? Ann asked as a last-ditch effort to divert Baker’s attention.

It could get dangerous, and I didn’t want to send in someone without experience, said

Baker, still kneeling.

What I wouldn’t give for a camera, Ann thought, silently giving Baker a point for the smooth comeback.

After a long glare, she muttered, You owe me big.

Baker jumped to his feet with a triumphant whoop. Dodger, you owe us lunch!

So I do, said a cool voice. Special Agent Malcolm Dodger stepped out of a side office.

All right, what’s going on? demanded Ann.

I’ve been set up.

She glanced between the partners, once again struck by the stark differences between them. Tall and blond, Agent Baker exuded energy while his short, husky partner possessed an eerie sense of calm. Dodger’s dark eyes, big ears, and crooked grin always hinted at hidden secrets. His wavy dark hair hung over his forehead on the left side of his face. In the two months she had known him, Ann couldn’t recall Dodger ever raising his voice. Even now, he adjusted his glasses with prim calmness.

He said you wouldn’t help us, but I knew I could count on you, Baker babbled.

And what exactly am I helping with?

Bank operation, said Dodger.

His two-word answer reminded Ann of her husband, Patrick.

Before marriage, she amended.

After marriage, Special Agent Patrick Duncan conversed far more openly.

Ann listened intently as Baker explained her role in the upcoming operation.

It should be straightforward.

Somehow, she got the impression that things wouldn’t work out quite the way Baker envisioned.

***

Bank of America

Washington, D.C.

This place looks busy, Ann commented, casually tugging at the Kevlar jacket under her oversized bodysuit and twenty-year-old flower print dress. She glanced at the file Agent Dodger had handed her then swept her gaze over the dozen or so people inside the bank.

They’re all ours, Agent Baker assured, except for a few tellers.

So, remind me. Why am I here? Ann noted several women customers in the bank. Initially, they appeared to be normal shoe-tapping, watch-checking bank customers, but anyone looking closely could pick up on their apprehension.

Agent D— Baker began.

Your valuable experience, interjected Agent Dodger.

I see, Ann murmured. Something about his answer seemed odd, but she couldn’t put her mental finger on it. Shrugging, Ann asked, Who’s in charge of this operation?

I am, Agent Baker admitted.

Ann gnawed her bottom lip to keep rash comments inside.

Vice, why’d you have to go and retire?

When’s the target arriving? Ann inquired.

Fifteen minutes, offered Dodger.

Then you two had better be gone, Ann said.

Baker opened his mouth.

Yeah, yeah, things can go to Hades in a hand basket. I’ll be careful, she promised.

Don’t you ever curse? asked Agent Baker.

Not if I can help it.

What if you drop something on your foot?

Um, ‘darn’ or ‘owwie’ might slip out.

Wow.

Why is that amazing?

I don’t know. It’s unusual …

Unusual or not, it’s time for you two to go, Ann said. Now shoo!

Baker and Dodger disappeared into a back office.

Ann watched them leave. If things went smoothly, this would conclude a twenty-three month investigation into the activities of Ethan Vincher, a slick counterfeiter and check forger. Rumor had it that his illegal check writing career was merely a front for more sinister deals. Ann didn’t like the operational set up. Too many things could go wrong and land people in the hospital or worse.

God, be with us today.

After a longer, silent prayer, Ann took up her post near a teller’s booth and smiled at the woman. This will be over soon, she muttered under her breath.

The woman frowned nervously.

Smile. It’ll make the charade more convincing, Ann encouraged, eliciting a dim, unconvincing grin from the woman.

Precisely on time, Ethan Vincher entered the bank looking surprisingly like his picture. His plain face resembled half a dozen men Ann knew, including her husband and Agent Dodger. Vincher wore his dark hair in a crew cut and had narrow, alert, dark eyes.

Ann watched him surreptitiously. As per the plan, the teller handed Ann an envelope and bid her good day. Ann thanked the woman, tucked the envelope into her purse, and turned to confront her quarry. Their eyes locked and things went wrong.

Glaring, the man reached into his jacket and pulled out a tiny, plastic