by Ed James
Would Holliday know Vance?
Figures.
Both members of the Great Glen Country Club.
Teed off together a few times.
With Olson and Youngblood.
Thanks.
I’ll keep you posted.
I pull out the battery and the cell dies. I put it away and reach for the burner, but my finger touches the Vicodin. I should toss it, stop the temptation.
Holliday looks over at me, frowning. “Who are you messaging?”
I hold up the gun. “Just drive.” I hit dial and put the burner to my ear, listening to it ringing.
“What’s up?” Layla sounds breathless.
“I’m on to something. Someone’s paid part of the price for it, but there are more fish to bait. I’ll call you in an hour. You know what to do if you don’t hear from me.”
“Good luck.”
I end the call and sit back, watching the road hurtling toward us, the cars and lines blurring.
Then I see Harry Youngblood dying in front of my eyes, the revolver jerking in my hand, the sound deafening me.
I jerk awake, sucking in deep breaths.
It’s way too late for me. I’m already one of them.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Carter
“Karen, it’s Max. I’m looking for Xander Delgado. Call me back.” Carter killed the call on the dash and took a left up the hill, letting a bike courier pass in the bike lane. Almost immediately, his cell rang. He answered it. “Carter.”
“Agent Carter, this Sergeant Josh Anderson SPD. I’m calling in relation to a stolen VW camper van.”
“You’ve found them?”
“No, sir. My guys suspect the men you let go from that murder site have taken it. Just had to listen to a very irate man recount how he spent ten years restoring and upgrading it, only for them to steal it.”
Carter sat there, the turn signal ticking. The Seattle Field Office towered above him, just another tall downtown building. “Should be easy to find, though?”
“You’d think.”
“Okay, I’ll get one of my agents to pick this up. Expect a call from Tyler Peterson, okay?”
“Sure thing.” And Anderson was gone.
Carter pulled up by the garage entrance. “Everything we know about this guy is he’s smart. He’ll dump the vehicle at the first opportunity.” No time to wait for the security guard to wake up. “Park this for me.” He left the Suburban in neutral on the curb and got out. A quick jog back down the hill and he was at the corner, a line of buses waiting for the lights to change.
A car door opened. “Son!” Bill Carter stumbled out of the car, sprawling across the hood. “You need to help me!”
Carter stood there. “This isn’t the time, Bill. For anything.”
“There’s never time for your old man. I’m sick of it. You need to let me in to your life now!”
“No, you don’t get to do this. Least of all now.” Carter grabbed him by the collar. “Right now, I’m heading the search for a missing child. You might know something about that.” He narrowed his eyes. “Might remind you of something.”
“Son, I—”
“No, Bill. You’re drunk and I’m way too busy.” Carter flagged down a passing cab and opened the back door. “Keys.” He took his father’s car keys and pushed him in the cab. “Come get them from the front desk tomorrow.” He pointed over the road at the field office. “When you’re sober.” He slammed the door.
The driver looked out of his window. “Where am I taking him?”
Carter unrolled a fifty from his billfold. “Take him home.” He passed one of Bill’s old business cards. “Here’s the address.”
The driver held up the note. “Redmond’s only twenty bucks.”
“That’s to cover him making a mess. Keep it if he doesn’t.” Carter stepped back and watched the taxi set off into traffic. It zipped off at the next junction, disappearing in the direction of Redmond.
What a complete and utter mess. And perfect timing.
“Thought you’d be inside?” Elisha appeared, tossing him the keys. “Uh-uh. I know that face. What’s going on?”
He couldn’t look her in the eye. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. You’ve got something going down, haven’t you? Max, it’s the last thing we need in a case like this. Spill. Now.”
Carter knew she was right.
But how could he talk to her about this? About all the garbage in his head? The stuff that stopped him sleeping at night, that put him on edge every second he was apart from Emma and Kirsty, when he couldn’t protect them?
He knew he had to at least try.
“Okay, so I was born in London. When I was six, my father, Bill, got offered a high-paying job in Seattle at Boeing.” Carter swallowed down the bitterest memory. “Thing is, Mom didn’t want to up sticks and move to the USA. She was settled. So they divorced, and she got custody of me. Bill moved to Seattle, and all that time, he missed his son. Boy did he miss me, thousands of miles away, growing up without him. All because he’d chosen this over his family.” He looked at Elisha now. “And you want to know why I do this job? Because I was abducted myself.”
Her eyes bulged. “What?”
“One night when I was eight, Bill met me outside my school.” Carter blinked away the memory of Bill trying the same trick with Kirsty that morning. Felt like months ago now. “Got in a car, took us to this private airport, and onto a private jet someone he knew had a share of. Something like that. Flew us both here, to his new home in Seattle.”
Elisha reached across to rub his arm, her forehead creasing with empathy. “I had no idea, Max.”
Carter sucked in a deep breath. “Mom couldn’t handle the stress and became depressed. Like, really badly depressed. She got this strong medication and… She died in a fatal traffic accident. Thirty-two years ago.” His tears flowed, no pouring rain to lose them to. “The hardest part was it wasn’t all her fault. Those anti-depressants… This was the eighties, it’s not like now. You were on that stuff, you were a zombie. She veered into the wrong lane, hit a car, killed herself, killed the other driver.”
“Max, you should’ve told me.”
“I thought I was over it, but you never get over it, do you?”
“And let me guess—you blame yourself?” She held his gaze until he looked away. “It was an accident, Max. This isn’t on you.”
“Maybe, but Bill… That selfish prick pushed her down that path. And I’ll always blame myself because I’m the catalyst for it all. When we were waiting for the plane, I remember thinking, clear as day, I should be with Mom. Then I wouldn’t have been over here, and she’d still be alive, and that selfish…” The tears stung his eyes. “Of course, Bill spoiled me. And after Mom died, he doubled it, used his wealth to distract me from her death, from reality. I was that kid, you know, the one who always had the latest game consoles, the latest sneakers, the latest CDs. Vacations at Disneyland, no expense spared. But Bill…” The anger welled in the pit of his stomach. “He was always so busy with work. I was raised by a series of nannies. During college, I hit rock bottom. The pressure got to me. And that’s when I met Emma. But I was broken and kept lashing out at her. She was strong and got me the therapy I needed. At the time, I needed it. I mean, I could still be playing video games in Bill’s basement to this day. But I’m not. I got my degree, got my masters. And I got my sanity back. After college, I had to renounce my British citizenship so I could join the FBI. The only way. I mean, I’ve been back over there but it’s not my home, not after what Bill did.”
“Max, that’s…” She exhaled slowly.
“I specialize in child abductions because I know what it’s like. Every case we get, every stolen kid, that’s me standing in that private airfield. Lost, alone, afraid. Everyone is different, I know, but they’re also the same in so many ways. And that’s why I don’t have anything to do with him, Elisha. He killed my mom.”
“He’s still you
r dad, Max.”
“And I’ve got a restraining order against him. He just wouldn’t listen, kept showing up drunk at our home. And he keeps calling me so I have to block him. I should call it in. This morning, when I dropped off Kirsty at daycare so I could get some paperwork done, Bill was there. Knew she’d be there.”
“And you think he was going to take her?”
“I don’t doubt it. He keeps asking for my help, but Bill has a ploy for every situation.”
“But he’s also desperate, like you say. If he needs your help, maybe that’s the only way he can ask for it?”
“He doesn’t deserve my help.”
“What does Em say about it?”
“Nothing you’re not just now.” Carter locked eyes with her again. “Feels like I need more therapy…”
“You know what you’re like, Max. When you’re not in control, you lose focus. I suggest you see what he wants, then you’ll be back in control. At the moment, you’re just reacting to him. What you do best is getting on the front foot.”
Elisha’s phone chimed. She took a look and got up. “Better take this.” She walked off to answer it.
But he knew she was right. Probably. But how could he do that without letting that viper squirm back into their lives?
“Come on.” Carter opened the door and walked up to security.
“Afternoon, sir.” The security guard sat at his station, armed with a clipboard. “You can just—”
“Is Xander Delgado in the building?”
“Let me just check, sir.” The guard started flicking through the clipboard pages. “You watch the game last night?”
“I didn’t have the time.” Carter tightened his fingers around the marble desk. A pair of agents walked past, giving him cursory nods. He let out a sigh. “Any good?”
“Best I’ve seen all season.” The guard beamed at him, then slid the clipboard over. “Mr. Delgado is with SAC Nguyen on the fifth floor.”
Carter was already halfway to the elevators.
Carter walked down the corridor past the interrogation rooms and stopped outside the door for Room B. Voices inside, low. One male, one female. He opened it.
Inside, SAC Nguyen sat opposite Delgado. Very cozy, all smiles. Like the congressman hadn’t been handcuffed to a tree less than an hour ago. Dressed in a fresh suit, though missing his trademark red tie.
Nguyen raised a hand and joined him in the corridor, her stare glassy and diffuse. “I heard what happened. This doesn’t reflect well on you, Special Agent.”
“Ma’am, we did what we had to. I did what we had to. We almost—”
“A man is dead because of you, because you entered a property without adequate backup. And you let them go.” Her voice was even, barely rising above a whisper.
“He would’ve died if we hadn’t been there.”
“But you were there. I don’t think that’s a good look.”
“We gained some intel.” Carter knew he was clutching at straws. “This Mason guy got him to print out a report. And he mentioned a name—Jacob.”
“And that’s important, how?”
Carter didn’t have an answer, just a question. “I need to speak to Delgado. He’s—”
“Another piece of baloney.” Nguyen pointed into the room, her voice raising. “You left him handcuffed to a tree!”
“I took a priority call. We had intel on Mason and Holliday’s whereab—”
“Mason?”
“That’s what he signed in as at the Fed Building. It’s as useful as anything I’ve got to call him.”
“So why are you here? You should be—”
“I want to speak to Delgado.”
Her snort was the only answer he was likely to get.
“Listen, Karen, he got away from us. This isn’t the time for recriminations, okay? I’ll hold my hands up to my failings. But I’ve been in the same room as this guy. I’m building up a picture. I need to know what Delgado does about him.”
She looked down the corridor, shaking her head. “Two minutes.”
“Thanks.” Carter took the vacant seat across from Delgado. “Congressman, I hope you’re recovering. I’m sorry I—”
“Takes a lot more than that to frighten me.” Delgado narrowed his eyes, clearly wondering what Carter had on him. Typical politician. Well, today’s his lucky day. “But thanks for finding me. And leaving me there was fine. I totally understand.”
Carter grimaced. “After we left you, we visited Mr. Youngblood’s home. Unfortunately, he… died.”
Delgado stopped trying to score an angle, clearing his throat instead. “Murder?”
“I was there and I didn’t see clearly. I think it was an accident, but I’m not ruling it out.”
“You think this John Mason guy did it?”
“It’s my working hypothesis. Congressman, you spent a few minutes with them. Is that his name?”
“Well. Holliday introduced him as that, said he was his new assistant.” Delgado stared at him, shaking his head. “I don’t buy that now. Didn’t really at the time.”
“Did you get the impression that he’s using Avery as leverage?”
“As far as I can tell, that’s exactly what’s happening.” Delgado tilted his head to the side. “Least that’s what they portrayed.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Delgado stared at Nguyen. “Am I being interrogated here?”
Nguyen stood in the doorway. “Xander, this is just intelligence gathering.”
“Well, I’m not helping that worm.”
Carter grabbed Delgado by the arms. He could feel Nguyen’s glare burning into his neck, but she didn’t stop him. “Listen to me. Whatever beef you’ve got with Senator Holliday, I couldn’t care less. But that man he was with—John Mason, if that’s even his name—he abducted Avery and her brother. He killed Harry Youngblood. If not for Holliday, then do it for his daughter, do it for his wife.”
“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” Delgado adjusted his suit cuffs, like he was expecting a spare FBI one to feature diamond-encrusted links. He settled back, arms folded across his chest. “I caught Holliday and this Mason fella in our office searching for a military exercise on October second, at a school in Seattle. Looked to me like they were after some dirt on GrayBox.”
“The military contractor?”
“They supported this exercise.” Delgado ran his tongue over his movie-star teeth. “I gave them what I could, but the place went on lockdown. Then this Mason guy stuck a knife to my throat, made me and Chris get him out of the Fed Building.”
“Which you did.”
“My life was at risk!” Delgado got up and started pacing around the room.
Nguyen raised her eyebrows at Carter, but didn’t say anything.
Carter tried to process it. Nothing came out right. Mason abducted Holliday’s kids to use him to find information on a school. Why Holliday, though? And what happened there? “Any idea what they were looking for?”
“Well, alarm bells started ringing when they asked. I knew the date. I knew the school.” Delgado flashed a grin. “As part of the congressional hearing, the FBI raided GrayBox about a month ago. Took a load of documentation, but nothing mentioned Tang Elementary.”
It meant nothing to Carter.
“Trouble is, absence of evidence isn’t evidence of absence, but they were involved and there should’ve been reports and records. We never found any. I was going to ask Richard Olson this morning, but you saw how well that went.”
“You think GrayBox is covering up something that happened there?”
“I don’t doubt it for a second.” Delgado rested against the seat back. “At first I thought this Mason guy was working for Olson or GrayBox, but why do all that just to find information about your own company? Holliday has a back channel to Richard Olson. Old golfing buddies. Holliday was a perfect conduit. And that madman got Holliday to call Olson. Even came to meet us near where you found me. It was their regular meet
ing place, by the sounds of it.”
“What did Olson tell you?”
“Denied all knowledge. Told them to speak to Harry Youngblood. Olson said he fired his ass over something.” Delgado snarled as he looked around. “Then those douchebags dumped me.”
“Did Olson recognize Mason?”
“Mason hid. Never gave Olson the chance to see him, but I assume he listened in. Holliday asked Olson about the operation. Like I told you, Olson put Holliday on to Harry Youngblood.”
“Sounds like I need to speak to Richard Olson.”
Delgado laughed. “Good luck getting him to talk.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Holliday
Holliday drove along the freeway, tapping his thumbs against the wheel.
Mason held up a smartphone and checked the screen. Again, fifth time in twenty seconds. Huffing and sighing, like he was waiting for something that wasn’t coming. He took out the battery and pocketed it.
“Who are you texting?”
“Never you mind.” Mason stared at the bottle of Vicodin. Kept doing it. He was on his second strip of towel now and, while he had stopped dripping blood on the VW’s upholstery, he was weakened and struggling.
Holliday grabbed the wheel tighter, didn’t know how to use it to his advantage.
I could drive off the road, or cut across into oncoming traffic.
And then what?
Killing Mason isn’t the same as saving Avery. The risk’s too great.
“Do you want me to arrange a meeting with Vance?”
Mason looked over, eyes narrow. “How?”
“I can call him. I know his number. Like I said, he’s a buddy.”
“Senator, the people you’re tight with…” Mason pointed at a gas station on the left, advertising a diner with the best burgers in Washington state. “In there.”
Holliday complied, coming to a stop by the front door. The van’s fan sucked in the burnt meat smell.
Mason held up his cell. “What’s the number?”