by CW Browning
Hawk met her glance and smiled. It was true. She had never thought of using questionable people as assets until they met, by chance, in a Paris street a year after going into the field. They compared notes on their first year over dinner and she had learned from him how invaluable members of the criminal class were for information and supplies. In return, he had learned from her the value of having a storage unit in every city with back-up supplies. That was a tip that had saved his life more than once over the years.
He turned back to his monitor and opened his email. A comfortable silence fell between them and Hawk settled down to work. Someone had to have heard something somewhere. The cartels were never quiet about their intentions. If they were after Hawk, someone had to know about it.
And when Hawk found out which one was in Jersey, he would take them down, one by one.
Chapter Eight
Stephanie slammed the door to her Mustang and took in the scene before her. It was just past seven in the morning and the Mt. Holly Prison on High Street was teeming with activity. The local police were in the process of erecting a white screen on the brick sidewalk next to the steps leading to the prison door. A team from the FBI was preparing to descend upon the front yard to examine the ground for any forensic evidence, while another group of local LEO's kept the curious, early-morning spectators at bay on the sidewalks. John was supervising the whole thing, standing off to the side with his hands on his hips, looking none too happy. When he saw her, he turned and stalked towards her with a frown.
“It's too early for this shit,” he informed her bluntly.
“They said it was a head,” Stephanie said, handing him a large, hot Wawa coffee. John took it and his face brightened.
“You're the best,” he murmured.
“I know. Is it Rodrigo's head?”
“Yep. Stuck on a post.” John walked with her across the sidewalk and held the caution tape up so she could duck under it. “Appeared sometime last night. None of the uniforms saw it when they drove by the prison on their patrols. No one seems to know when it appeared.”
Stephanie glanced at him and walked briskly along the brick pathway running parallel with the prison. A sergeant nodded to her and she nodded back, sipping her coffee as they walked up to the white screen. She rounded the corner of the screen briskly.
“For the love of...!” she gasped as she came nose-to-nose with Rodrigo's discolored and bloated face. She stepped back hastily and bumped into John. “It's definitely him.”
“Yep.”
John sounded grim as he steadied her with a hand on each arm. They both stared at Rodrigo's head. It was impaled on what looked like a bamboo rod about an inch thick. His face had a grayish pallor and one eye was closed while the other was drooping.
“Why here?” Stephanie sipped her coffee and turned away from the grotesque sight. She glanced down at the ground. The stake had been driven into the grass next to the steps and not a blade was disturbed around the area. “What's their fascination with the prison? And who the hell has the balls to deposit a head on a pike just a block away from the police station?!”
“All good questions,” John said, stepping back so she could exit from behind the screen. “I can't answer any of them. Here comes the ME.”
Stephanie looked up and watched the man approaching from the road. He carried a duffel bag and was followed by the same assistant who had collected the arm the day before.
“Morning, Larry!” she called.
“Good morning, Ms. Walker,” Larry answered cheerfully as he joined them outside the screen. He was in his mid-fifties, had an irrepressible twinkle in his eyes, and his hair was balding. He was Stephanie's favorite ME. “I hear we have a head to go with the arm.”
“We do indeed.” Stephanie motioned behind the screen. “Help yourself. If you can give me an approximate time of severance that would be wonderful.”
Larry nodded and stepped behind the screen.
“Oh my!” he exclaimed, his voice slightly muffled.
“That seems to be everyone's reaction when they see it,” John remarked.
“Well, it is disconcerting,” Stephanie answered, looking around. “You don't expect it to be at eye-level, somehow. How did they get it here without someone seeing them?”
“I've got a uniform going door to door to see if anyone heard anything last night, but I don't think we'll have much luck,” John said. “Kenny, the night guard on duty in the prison, didn't hear or see anything. He's in the Warden's House, waiting to speak to you.”
“Karl had the night off?” Stephanie turned and began walking back down the path toward the Warden's House.
“Yes.” John fell into step beside her. “At least we know, without a doubt, that Rodrigo is most definitely dead.”
“That's the only thing we do know,” Stephanie muttered. “I think we can call off the search on the river. I can't imagine they tossed a headless corpse into the water.”
“Do you think we'll just keep finding parts of him?” John asked after a second of silence.
“Agent Walker!” Larry called from behind them before she could answer. Stephanie and John turned to see the medical examiner hurrying towards them.
“What is it?” she asked as Larry closed the distance between them.
“It's the head,” he said breathlessly.
“What about it?”
“It's missing its tongue!”
Stephanie and John stared at him speechlessly.
“What?!” Stephanie finally found her voice, and it was loud.
“I thought the jaw looked like it was sitting strangely,” Larry explained. “I assumed it was because of how it had been...attached, so to speak...to the pole. It wasn't. It's because the tongue was cut out of the poor man's head.”
“Before or after he was decapitated?” John asked, glancing at Stephanie's dumbfounded face.
“I can't be sure until I get it back to autopsy, but initial indications are that it was done before,” Larry answered, shaking his head disgustedly.
“Thank you,” Stephanie said. “Let me know as soon as you know for sure.”
“Of course, my dear.” Larry turned to go back and John looked at her.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked.
“I don't know,” Stephanie answered, shaking her head. “I don't know what to think, to be honest.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” John muttered. “I'm hoping they'll find something when they comb the ground in the front yard. A footprint, a hair, a driver's license...”
“Wouldn't that be nice?” Stephanie asked with a short laugh. She glanced at the army of techs starting at one side of the prison yard. “I don't think we'll be that lucky, somehow. While they're doing that, do me a favor and go into the Dungeon again. I want some more pictures of the window.”
“Oh?” John looked at her, his eyebrow raised.
She nodded.
“Yes. The ones we have from yesterday look like something was dragged through the window,” Stephanie told him. “The middle of the window ledge was dust-free, but the edges weren't.”
“On it,” John said and turned to head toward the front of the prison.
“John?” Stephanie called. He turned back inquiringly. “When you're finished, call the Black Widow and get her up here.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.” Stephanie turned to go around the corner to the entrance of the Warden's House. “I want to know where her other half was last night.”
Damon sipped his coffee and tilted his head sideways. A smile played about his full lips. Alina was in Crow Pose on the deck and he had an excellent view from where he stood in front of the bar. He had been up with the sun, expecting to have the house and command center to himself. Instead, he walked downstairs to find Alina getting ready to go out for a run. For the first time since boot camp, they went running together in the early dawn. Neither spoke much and halfway through the five miles, Hawk realized they were both speedin
g up. When he mentioned it, Viper laughed and sprinted ahead of him. They raced back to the house through the woods, splitting up and taking different routes through the trees, only to reach the back deck together. Old habits, apparently, never died. Their basic training competitive spirit was alive and well.
Damon went to shower and when he came down, Alina was on the deck, practicing her yoga. Sipping his coffee now, he watched as she extended into a hand-stand from Crow pose. Her body control really was amazing. No wonder she was such a weapon. He tilted his head more and watched as she held the pose for several breaths. He was still admiring the view when he realized her dark eyes were watching him upside down. Caught, Damon grinned and winked.
Finishing his coffee, he was turning to go into the kitchen to make another cup when Alina's cell phone started playing the Halloween theme song. He glanced at the phone laying on the bar and saw John Smithe's name displayed. Damon chuckled at the ballad of Mike Meyers and continued to the coffeemaker. Setting his mug under the spout of her state-of-the-art espresso maker, he hit the button to brew another cup of coffee. The grinder drowned out the sound of Halloween and he watched absently as the machine finished grinding beans and began brewing espresso into his coffee mug.
“Enjoy the show?”
Alina's voice made him turn with a grin. He watched as she silently slid the door to the deck closed behind her.
“I did, thank you,” he answered. “You made my morning.”
Alina shook her head and crossed the carpet to the bar, where her phone was flashing. She picked it up, saw the missed call, and set the phone down again. She looked past him to the coffee machine and Damon pulled out his mug, handing it to her.
“A peace offering,” he said.
Alina laughed and took it, sipping it gratefully.
“Have you heard anything from your contacts yet?” she asked.
“Not yet.” Damon turned to the cabinet over the coffeemaker and pulled out another mug. “I don't expect to hear anything much before tonight.”
“Charlie called this morning.” Alina leaned on the island and wrapped her hands around the mug. “Do you want him to know you're on US soil?”
“Knowing him, he probably already knows.” Damon hit the button on the coffeemaker and turned to face her. “I don't mind if he finds out I'm here.”
Alina studied him from under her eyelashes.
“So he would have no objection to you being here?” she asked, watching him. Damon shrugged.
“I can't imagine why he would,” he said.
“Hmm...” Alina lifted the coffee to her lips, her eyes still watching him over the rim. Damon was uncomfortably aware that those brown eyes didn't miss much. “Why are you here, Hawk?”
His eyes locked with hers and they stared at each other for a long, charged moment.
“You know why I'm here,” he murmured.
“I know why you say you're here,” she replied calmly, her dark eyes unreadable. Damon's lips curved slightly. “I find it hard to believe you're here just for me.”
“You severely underestimate yourself.”
His voice was soft and rolled over her like warm caramel. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up as Alina's stomach lurched in reaction to the warmth in his voice. They stared at each other and Alina felt her pulse leap at the look in his eyes. There was something there that both excited and scared her, and Viper didn't scare easily. Damon held her gaze for a long moment, then turned and pulled his coffee out from under the spout, breaking the spell. Alina shook her head slightly, sighing as the silence in the kitchen was shattered by the Halloween Theme song.
“Yes?” she picked up the phone.
Damon leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee, watching as she listened in silence. She was staring at the floor, her lips compressed slightly. After a moment, her head lifted suddenly and her eyes locked in on Damon's. Her lips twitched and laughter made her eyes glow.
“Really?” she murmured, amusement dripping from her voice. “Have you called Ghostbusters yet?”
Damon lifted an eyebrow, drinking the espresso and watching as Alina listened some more. John was doing a lot of talking for such an early morning phone call.
“Fine.” Alina glanced at her watch. “Give me an hour.”
She pressed end and set the phone down on the counter, finishing her coffee. Her eyes were dancing when she looked at Damon.
“They found a head at the prison in Mt. Holly,” she told him. A grin tugged at her lips.
“You don't say?”
“It appeared on a bamboo pike overnight.” Alina moved forward and reached around him to rinse out the mug. Damon moved to the side, his face impassive.
“That's ironic,” he said. “Who would think disembodied heads would be so common?”
“Ha!” Alina glanced at him and the grin won the fight with her lips. “You put it outside the prison?”
“I figured the arm could use the company,” he replied with a wink and Alina burst out laughing.
“I shouldn't find it funny, but I do,” she chortled. “Stephanie and John are beside themselves. They have a haunted prison, an arm, and now a head. Where the hell is the rest of him?”
“I think the chances are pretty good you'll have to ask one of the cartels,” Damon answered before swallowing the rest of his coffee. “Are you being summoned to the scene of the crime?”
“Yes,” Alina said, setting her mug upside down in the sink to drain. She looked at him, still grinning. “Stephanie wants to know where you were last night, too. I think we're both under the microscope.”
“You know, your friends don't seem overly friendly, especially after I saved their lives,” Hawk murmured. He changed places with her and turned on the water to rinse out his mug. “It's almost like they don't trust us.”
“I know.” Alina nodded and left the kitchen, heading down the hall toward the stairs. “I can't imagine why they think we're trouble,” she threw over her shoulder with a grin. “I'm going to shower and then I'll go play their game for a while. The more information we get about the head, the better chance we have at identifying which cartel tracked you down.”
“While you're doing that, I'll go back to the condo and get my things,” Damon told her, heading toward the sliding doors.
“Try not to stumble across anymore body parts,” Alina called, starting up the stairs.
Alina pulled up behind Stephanie's Mustang, put the Camaro in park, and watched the activity in front of the old prison. Spectators had gathered on the sidewalk as Feds swarmed around the front prison yard. A couple of local cops were keeping the curious at bay, and they glanced over to her car as she cut the engine. Alina got out of the car and beeped it locked as she walked around the front of the car to step onto the sidewalk. She approached the caution tape and an officer stopped her.
“I'm here to see Agent Walker,” she told him.
“Your name?” the man asked, his face impassive.
“Just tell her Raven Woods is here.”
The uniform turned away and spoke into the radio hooked onto his breast pocket. A moment later, he turned back to her and lifted the tape so she could duck under it.
Stephanie appeared from the Warden's House and came towards her. Her face was grim and dark rings were already starting to form under her eyes.
“Thanks for coming,” she said, joining Alina on the brick walk in front of the prison. “Talk about a nightmare. First an arm, and now this. Did John fill you in?”
“He said you found a head outside the prison this morning,” Alina answered. “Seems a little far-fetched to me, but he swears it's true.”
“Oh, it's true enough, and it gets better,” Stephanie muttered. “Now the prison guide is MIA. No one has seen her since the haunted walk closed last night. She never went home and her cell phone isn't registering a GPS location.”
“That doesn't sound good,” Alina murmured. She fell into step beside Stephanie as they moved along the walkway towa
rd a white screen erected next to the steps. “Does the head belong to your informant?”
“Yes. John didn't tell you?” Stephanie asked, glancing at her.
“He talked a lot and didn't say much,” Alina answered, her lips curving slightly. “All he really said was that you had a head on a stick and wanted to know where we were last night.”
“Clearly, he hasn't improved in the public relations department,” Stephanie murmured, having the grace to look sheepish. “I'll fill you in on everything once you've seen the head. The ME is ready to move it, but I want you to take a look before he does.”
They came up to the white screen and Stephanie motioned for her to take a look. Alina rounded the screen and came to an abrupt stop. Stephanie watched as she stared at the head for a beat, her face impassive. Alina didn't show the slightest sign of discomposure at being eyeball-to-eyeball with a severed head. In fact, she looked amused. After considering the head for a moment, she looked down to examine the grass around the pike.
“It was placed here last night?” she finally asked, shooting Stephanie a sharp glance.
“Yes. No one seems to be able to say when,” Stephanie answered. “It wasn't here when the haunt closed last night, and the last actors left a little after midnight. Beyond that, no one seems sure. Right now, I'm working on a time frame of sometime between midnight and six am.”
“Lovely.” Alina crouched down to get a closer look at the grass. “Whoever put it here didn't leave any trace on the grass at all.”
“I know.” Stephanie nodded. “None of our people could find anything when they went over the ground this morning, either. It's like it just grew up out of the ground.”
“What was his name again?” Alina asked. She straightened up and moved out from behind the screen.
“Rodrigo Frietas,” Stephanie answered, motioning to a balding man hovering nearby with a large plastic sheet.
She led Alina toward the steps of the prison as the ME and his assistant moved behind the screen to remove the head. Alina glanced up at the door of the prison and sighed imperceptibly. As she placed her foot on the first step, an icy chill rolled over her and slid down her spine. She paused and Stephanie glanced at her. Her eyes narrowed at the pallor in Alina's face.