Justifiable Homicide: A Political Thriller (Robert Paige Thrillers Book 1) by Robert W. McGee

investigation. An envelope was left at the scene, but authorities have not yet divulged its contents. Representative Klein could not be reached for comment.”
    Paige switched off the radio. His mind turned to the conversation he had with Wellington. He had assigned him to infiltrate Saul Steinman’s study group, which consisted of professors who thought along the same lines as Martin Kaplan and Nathan Shipkovitz, both now dead. And not from natural causes. Murdered in university parking lots. Were the two guys who accosted him in his university’s parking lot sent there to kill him? Was he on the same hit list as Shipkovitz and Kaplan? Was Wellington behind the hits? Did Wellington have plans to kill Steinman, and perhaps the other professors? And maybe him, too?
    From his past experience with Wellington he knew he was a dangerous guy. John had lied about the fingerprints on the guns. Maybe he was lying about Steinman too. There were too many unanswered questions. He decided to play along. For now. Maybe things would become clear with the passage of time. The best thing to do would be to keep his eyes and ears open and his mouth shut. Wellington must not suspect that he was starting to connect the dots.
    ***
    He arrived at the university and booted up his computer. He’d run a license plate check on the van. It was easy enough to do. Companies on the Internet would provide practically any public information for a few dollars.
    While the computer booted, he rose from his chair and gazed out the window. Another beautiful Miami day. Co-eds walked to class, laughed, chatted, and talked on their cell phones, oblivious to what went on beneath the surface in their city.
    From the faculty lounge down the hall wafted the pungency of the swill that passed for coffee. Maybe he would have a cup later. He didn’t especially like the taste of the coffee that came out of that room, but it could become palatable if he added a little vanilla or caramel flavoring.
    He sat at his computer and searched for Web sites that would give him the information needed. He selected the first option, read the instructions, input his credit card information, typed in the license plate, then hit the search button.
    Up popped a name and address. The van belonged to George Heverly, thirty-four. The screen listed an address on Northwest 17 th Avenue. No apartment number. Most likely a house. Single people usually lived in apartments, so he probably was married. Most married guys had kids. Since he was thirty-four, the kids were possibly still living at home.
    Perhaps there was a photo of him online. He searched for George Heverly Miami. Nothing. Then he searched for Facebook and scored several hits. But no Facebook pages for George Heverly. However, there was one for Gwen Heverly. He clicked the link.
    Up popped the main page. It showcased several family photos.
    One of the faces belonged to the smaller of the two men who had assaulted him in the parking lot.
    The girl in most of the photos, probably Gwen, appeared to be about thirteen. Some photos also included a younger boy of perhaps nine or ten, likely her brother. They’d be enrolled at an elementary or middle school near their home, unless they were home schooled.
    He searched for schools within their zip code, viewed the schools’ Web pages, and made a few phone calls to learn when school let out. The district generally dismissed students between two thirty and three. He checked his watch. Almost eleven. The MBA class didn’t start until six. He had time to go back to his place, grab his camera, have lunch, and drive to northwest 17 th Avenue before they got home.
    He turned off his computer and left his office. The smell of coffee had grown stronger, but he wouldn’t be having any today. Someone else would have to drink his share of that swill. He had a mission to complete.

25
    Heverly’s House
     
    Paige returned to his apartment, picked up his camera, and left. He could have saved himself a