Nocturnal Revelations

by Amanda S Green

  “First, I think we need to move the safe house. Ferguson stayed at the current one while he and the others healed after what Cassandra put them through. I know Mateo is confident neither he nor anyone else with the pack figured out where it is, I don’t think we should run the risk.”

  “Have you talked with my nephew about this?”

  “I have and he feels I’m overreacting.” She understood, at least to a degree. But she hadn’t survived this long, especially as a normal in the shifter world, without being careful.

  “Talk me through your concerns.”

  Jael checked the mirrors again. So far, so good. But that didn’t mean they were home-free. Technology made tracking vehicles much easier than in the past, something she knew all too well. Okay, maybe she was more paranoid than usual.

  “It’s not just that Ferguson was there those first few weeks after we found him, Pat and the others after they’d been kidnapped. Too many of us have come and gone from there. Bartholomew told us enough to convince me the pack’s been keeping at least some of us under surveillance. I’m worried about what they might try next. If they managed to trace us back there and then managed to get control of the building, everything we’ve worked for could blow up in our faces. Anyone with an ounce of sense would look at the layout, at the equipment and see military written all over it. We can’t risk that. Not unless we’re willing to risk everything on them not doing their homework before making their final move.

  “But it’s more than that. We’ve already set the precedent of moving our people from the hospital to a safehouse. Smart money would be on us doing that with Mac when she’s strong enough to leave Baylor. The lycans are many things but fools they aren’t. I don’t want to risk her, or any of the rest of you, on them finding the warehouse and attacking.”

  She tapped the brakes as a car cut in front of them. Behind her, a horn sounded. For a moment, she tensed. Then she checked the mirrors and relaxed. Typical early morning traffic. Drivers impatient to get to their destinations. City buses forcing their way into traffic because they were bigger and not caring they were slower. DART trains crossing streets, carrying commuters to various stations around town. All very normal and totally ignorant of the dangers around them.

  God, how she wished she was one of them just then.

  “I agree.”

  A layer of worry fell away at the woman’s agreement. The headache building behind Jael’s eyes eased. She drew a deep breath, held it for a moment and then exhaled. She hadn’t expected it to be that easy. Before she could say so, Ellen pulled out her phone and placed a call. Leaving her to discuss the situation with General Flynn, Jael focused on the traffic and on everything they’d learned so far.

  Not to mention how they were going to have to keep Mac out of it.

  And wouldn’t that be fun?

  As if that was a cue, her phone rang. Cursing, not ready to discuss everything she’d seen and heard over the last twelve hours, she hit the button reached up and activated her Bluetooth earpiece.

  “Lindsay.”

  “It’s me.”

  She groaned to hear Mac’s voice. “Hey, Mac.” Hopefully, she didn’t sound as frustrated as she felt. “How are you?” She glanced at Ellen, making sure she realized who called.

  “Better. Hoping you’ll do me a favor.”

  “If I can.”

  Please let it be something simple like picking up coffee.

  “Would you stop by Rosa’s on your way in and pick up coffee and breakfast for everyone? I don’t think I could look at runny fake eggs or whatever the hospital serves.”

  Relieved, Jael laughed softly. “Call in your order and tell Rosa I’m about ten minutes out.”

  “Thanks.” Mac paused a moment before continuing. “I want a report when you get here.”

  Shit!

  She knew it would happen. She’d hoped Mac would wait. Idiot. She knew better.

  “We’ll see what your doctor says.”

  Before Mac could protest, she ended the call. There’d be hell to pay and she knew it. She also knew it was better than trying to dance around the topic while they made small talk.

  “What did she want?” Ellen asked after ending her own call.

  “Your granddaughter is a sneaky bitch.” Jael respected that about her. It was one of many things that made Mac such a good cop. It also made it difficult to keep anything from her. “She started out by asking me to stop by Rosa’s to pick up breakfast for everyone. Once I agreed, she told me she wants a report. You heard my response.”

  Ellen sighed. When Jael glanced at her, the older woman’s expression spoke volumes. She didn’t want to tell Mac what they’d learned any more than she did. But she also knew how futile it would be to try to keep it from her. Mac would push and poke and prod until they either asked Patek to sedate her or gave up and told her what she wanted to know. Somehow, they needed to prevent both from happening.

  But how?

  “She’s feeling better then.” Relief mixed with frustration in Ellen’s voice.

  Jael nodded. That was both good and bad news. Good because they needed Mac healing. Bad because it meant they’d be harder pressed to keep her in bed and focusing on her recovery. Still, they had a weapon they’d never had before: Mac’s pregnancy. If she knew her friend as well as she thought she did, Jael knew the younger woman would do whatever she could to protect the baby.

  And she planned on using that knowledge to their benefit as long as possible.

  “Ellen, when we get to Rosa’s, I want you to come in with me. Until this is over, we’re not taking any chances with you or the rest of the Tribunal.” She’d already ordered guards on the other members of the Tribunal, informing Flynn after she did. Fortunately, he’d agreed. He had also left her in charge of making sure Ellen, Pat—because she sat on the Tribunal until her son was old enough to take his place on it—and Mac were guarded. “Then we’ll head to the hospital.”

  “All right.” Her tone said she didn’t like it. At least she hadn’t argued. “Flynn said to tell you he’s already talked with Culver about what the two of you discussed yesterday. Culver will be letting Pat and the others know you’ve been activated to fill Mackenzie’s position as official liaison between Homeland and DPD. Your squad is there to assist but the investigation is still DPD’s.”

  “That’s the official explanation, right? Culver understands there are aspects of the case DPD can’t be involved in?”

  “He does,” Ellen assured her.

  Thank God. That was one worry off her shoulders. Of course, half a dozen others replaced it.

  “Jael, I know you’re worried. I am as well.” Ellen rested a gentle hand on her forearm. “But we will weather this, and we will get the bastard responsible for hurting my granddaughter.”

  “I know.” She had no doubt about it. “I also know we’re going to have our hands full with Mac when she finds out what we’ve learned.”

  Not to mention how Jackson would react. It didn’t matter Bartholomew refused to confirm that Ferguson, the lycan pack leader, knew of his involvement in Mac’s shooting. He did, however, imply Ferguson knew and approved. But they needed proof. Even though Mateo was putting into motion plans to bring Ferguson in to answer questions, it wouldn’t be enough for Jackson. He already wanted blood because of what happened. When he learned the pack was involved, Jael had a feeling Mac would be the only one able to keep him from going after the pack leader himself.

  * * *

  Pat stepped off the elevator and debated between cursing long and hard or banging her head against the wall. Even though she knew what to expect when she received the summons to Culver’s office, it didn’t help. She understood why General Flynn, or more likely Ellen, made the call to bring Mac’s and Mateo’s “DHS” squads into play. Hell, she welcomed the assistance she could now officially get from them. What she didn’t welcome was having to explain to her own squad about the change.

  Damn it, she hated this. There was no choice, no
t if they had a hope of keeping the existence of shifters secret. But she felt like she was betraying the trust of her squad and that stung. No wonder Mac hated it whenever she’d been in this position.

  She approached the conference room, doing her best to figure out how to broach the subject. As she prepared to open the door, a shout from inside brought her up short. Without hesitation, she input the code to unlock the door. The moment she stepped inside, she came to a halt. She stood there, staring at the scene before her, unable to believe her eyes.

  Timmons, dressed in his trademark rumpled brown slacks and white shirt, his tie loosened and the top button of his shirt undone, danced a happy jig. Danced! He gave another shout and pumped a fist in the air. Then repeated his jig.

  Pat pressed her fingers to her eyes. Some things should never be seen and, once they had, couldn’t be unseen. This was one of them. Timmons had no rhythm. He looked more than a little insane with a grin splitting his face, his fist pumping and a sparkle in his eyes.

  “I don’t know whether to call the medics or SWAT,” she said as she lowered her hands and saw him still doing a very poor imitation of an Irish jig.

  “Call Zee Logan and Chief Culver. Hell, call the fucking media, LT. I’ve got the shooter.”

  He gave one more click of his heels and twist of his hips before dropping into his chair. As he did, a collective sigh of relief filled the air as the others already present relaxed. Then, as what he said sank in, questions came hard and fast. Pat had more than a few herself and they would come first.

  She put fingers to mouth and whistled loudly enough to silence all the questions and demands for an explanation. Then she looked around, taking a mental roll call of who was present and who wasn’t.

  “Pull your report together and be ready to present it in ten. All supporting documentation, how you got there, everything,” she told Timmons as she pulled out her cellphone. “Sears, find out where your partner, Norwood and Buttkowski are. Tell them to get here ASAP. Murray, contact Tanaka and tell her Timmons has found something and she’s needed.”

  “I’ll contact the others as well, LT,” the young woman said.

  “Thanks. I’ll contact the brass.”

  Ten minutes later, Pat moved to the front of the room. Every member of the investigative team was there or on their way. Anticipation, like that before a hunt, filled the room. They knew they finally had a bead on their target and were ready to pull the proverbial trigger. So was she. Hopefully, they’d be able to do just that without any more delays.

  “Before we get started, I need to fill you in on something that happened overnight.” The room fell silent and the anticipation from a moment ago turned to concern. Realizing why, she cursed silently. Then she gave a mental shrug. Maybe their relief to know Mac still lived would offset their frustration over the Feds butting into the investigation. A girl could hope.

  “I’ll handle this part, Lt. King,” Culver said as he entered. Instantly, every cop in the room stood. Before they could brace to attention, Culver waved for them to return to their seats. Then he joined Pat in front of the smartboards. “Last night, General Gerald Flynn contacted me. Because Captain Santos is the official liaison between DPD and Homeland, I had informed him when she was shot. At that time, he assured me if we needed any help with the case, all I needed to do was call.”

  “But?” Tanaka asked. Then she colored and ducked her head.

  “It’s all right, Detective. I asked the same question. There was no but, at least not until early this morning. At approximately 0230, I received word from the general that his people, in the course of another investigation, came across information that led them to the man who rented the van used by the perp to flee after shooting Captain Santos. Because of the nature of the case they are working, they aren’t able to turn him over to us at this time.” He held up a hand to silence the grumbling protests. “However, they are handing over everything he gives them that is pertinent to their investigation. Flynn asked, in return, that we share our information in case the captain’s shooting is somehow connected. To facilitate it all, he asked that Sgt. Lindsay temporarily fill the captain’s role as liaison and has offered us the full support of their team if we need it.”

  Pat glanced around the room, relaxing as her people realized they weren’t losing the case. Oh, they didn’t like not having the chance to question the perp already in custody but she had a plan for that. She only hoped Culver backed her on it.

  “Sir, would they agree to Sgt. Lindsay questioning the perp?” she asked.

  He appeared to consider the question before responding. “That’s an excellent suggestion, lieutenant, and I will talk with the general about it.” Now he looked around the room. “Where is Sgt. Lindsay?”

  “She was stopping by the hospital to check on Captain Santos and see if she’s remembered anything else, sir,” Tanaka said.

  “Very well.” He glanced at his watch. “You said you have an ID on the shooter?”

  “Timmons?” Pat motioned for the former detective to step forward.

  “Chief, LT, I ran the image of the shooter taken from the captain’s security camera through every database I could think of. Not one returned a hit. That didn’t sit right with me. Call it my distrust of technology.” He gave a shrug when several of those present laughed. His lack of faith in modern technology was well-known in the squad. He knew its shortcomings and constantly worked to find ways around them.

  “So I programmed in some variations on the image. Age regression, change in hair, that sort of thing. That gave me a few hits but nothing solid. I did some more manipulation.”

  “Detective, just how much manipulation did you do?” Culver asked.

  “Enough that, on its own, the ID won’t support a warrant. However, it led to information I think is solid enough to not only confirm the ID but get us a warrant.”

  “Proceed.”

  “Thank you, Chief.” He checked his notes before continuing. “I programmed in a couple more variables that took into account possible plastic surgery. Nose and jawline in particular. That returned half a dozen possible. Well, more but those were the only ones with any play to them. The others I could discount due to factors like height, the fact they were dead or in jail. That sort of thing.

  “It took time. Murray and I were up most of the night ruling them out one by one. We were left with a single possible and, less than an hour, we came up with information that moved him from possible to probable.”

  He nodded and Murray worked at one of the smartboards. A moment later, a booking photo appeared on the board. Head cocked to one side, Pat studied the image. The only resemblance she saw between the long-haired, bearded man was the eyes. Still, if Timmons said it was the same man, she’d give him the benefit of the doubt—at least for the moment.

  “This is Roy Abbott Caudell. He has a rather lengthy rap sheet going back to when he was all of eleven. Most of it is petty shit: shoplifting, minor drug charges, that sort of thing. His connection to the captain goes back to when she was still in uniform. She’d just finished her probationary period when she busted him for possession with intent. He was holding enough coke and other shit that he should still be in prison. Instead, the charges disappeared and Caudell hasn’t shown up on DPD radar since then. In fact, he’s pretty much been erased from all databases.”

  “What do you mean the charges disappeared?” Pat’s stomach flipped and then flopped. She did not like where this seemed to be going.

  “A Narcotics officer stepped in and convinced the ADA handling the case that our captain was nothing more than an overzealous uniform, little more than a raw rookie, who stepped into the middle of one of their ops. The ADA took the detective’s word for it and dismissed the charges.” Timmons waved off Nguyen when he opened his mouth to interrupt.

  “I talked with the ADA in question. Stone’s no longer with the office but I remember him. He was a decent ADA but he never went the extra yard if he didn’t have to. He took the detecti
ve’s word and when Captain Santos asked why the case never came to trial, he told her Narcotics was using Caudell was an informant. She apparently had a few choice words about it.” That brought another laugh from everyone. “But there was nothing she could do about it.”

  “Where are you going with this, Timmons?” Tanaka asked.

  “Caudell wasn’t an informant and the detective involved wasn’t working an op involving him. She was, however, having an affair with him. She has, from what Murray and I uncovered, interceded on Caudell’s behalf other times as well and not just here.”

  “I’m not going to like what you have to say, am I?” Culver mused.

  “No, sir, you’re not.”

  “Who?” Pat asked.

  Another image appeared on the smartboard. A collective gasp sounded followed by cursing in several languages, including at least one Pat couldn’t identify. Disbelief quickly gave way to anger and she turned to Timmons, her expression grim. “Explain.”

  “Captain Wysocki is the Narcotics detective who stepped in, at last count, six times to keep charges from being filed against Caudell. Of course, back then she as simply Officer Wysocki and then Detective Wysocki.” Timmons nodded again to Murray who began to note dates and times on the smartboard, connecting them to arrests and either dismissals by the DA’s Office or the arresting officer simply not following up with the necessary paperwork to file charges.

  “The first two instances occurred while she was still assigned to Narcotics. The others occurred after she transferred to IAB. I’m sure if we keep digging, we’ll find more,” Timmons said.

  “Why?” Culver asked.

  Why indeed? That was the million-dollar question.

  Murray wrote down another date before displaying a new image. What it represented was unmistakable. Julia Wysocki wore a white, off-the-shoulder wedding gown. Her head was thrown back as she laughed gaily at something the man next to her said. He was clean-shaven with short hair. His tuxedo was well-cut. But his eyes. Those were the same eyes as in the booking photo.