by R. T. Wolfe
Chapter 16
Thirteen donuts seemed like overkill, but the bakery had this thing called a baker's dozen special on Wednesdays, so Nickie went with it. They wouldn't compare to her mother-in-law's scones, but at least Nickie wasn't empty-handed. It was the first time they'd had Sunday morning scones on a Wednesday morning. She needed to get to work, but Duncan had insisted and he was damned persuasive. As they drove, she bounced a leg inside her dress slacks and boots.
Unfortunately, Xena also knew she wasn't empty-handed. The dog could sit and stay, heel and keep her head out of the toilet water. But donuts were more than she could resist. Whine, drool, stick head out window, rinse and repeat.
Duncan chose his Barracuda that morning. His chest stuck out further whenever he drove this car. It was the first time he'd allowed Xena in it, and now there was drool over everything. The windows were down, so while shaking her leg, Nickie gathered her hair around her shoulder over her holster and kept it from flying in her face.
The heat was stifling, but the scent of fresh air made the open windows worth it. They bumped onto the Black Creek Bridge and stopped. Nickie leaned in and checked her side mirror for any cars coming behind them, then asked, "Why are we stopping?"
"Listen," he said.
She didn't hear anything except Xena panting, so she glared at Duncan. He smiled. That didn't help her concentration on whatever she was supposed to be listening to. She turned her head and closed her eyes. "Why do people close their eyes so they can hear better?"
"It is difficult not to focus on what you see when it is in front of your eyes."
She grinned. Zen Master Duncan.
He said, "When we blacken our sight, our focus moves to the senses still available."
Water rushed over the rocks, echoing beneath the bridge as it hurried out the other side. Ah. This was a memory for Duncan. Not just a memory, but an eidetic memory. The sound from his childhood would be as crisp in his memory as if it happened yesterday.
As she expanded her lungs, she opened her eyes to view what she heard and spotted a Great Blue heron. Its stealthy walk was better than Nickie sneaking up on a perp. Xena barked, and the bird squawked like a flying dinosaur, bent down and opened her wings. As she flew to a location free of barking dogs, Nickie noticed the cattails and tall grasses along the bank that cast shade over the water, making it seem even darker than it was.
The car started moving again, and Duncan placed a hand on her knee. Both of her feet rested on the floor mat. The quiet breeze blew her hair around her shoulders, and the soft curls rubbed against her cheeks.
They turned up Duncan's aunt and uncle's drive. Brie and Nathan. He never called them by their first names. It was Mom and Dad.
Family didn't have to mean blood.
As they passed the scattering of towering native trees, the house came into view. And so did the cars that were there. Her eyes squinted at what she saw. Scones at the Reed house meant Andy and Rose. She got that. And when her in-laws' biological children were home from college, it meant James, Jonathon and Hannah. So, their vehicles made sense too.
It did not mean Nickie's foster mother or brother. Yet, their cars were parked along the garage as if they belonged there. She glanced at Duncan.
He returned the look and shrugged.
Now, she was scared.
Xena was inconsolable and uncontrollable. She danced circles in the backseat until they parked when she tried to escape out the window. "Xena, sit," Nickie said to deaf ears.
Nickie got out before the car came to a complete stop. She opened the back door. Xena lunged as the front door to the house opened. Brie and Nathan's Lab bounded out.
The barking. The whining. An outsider would think the two of them were doomed for a head-on collision. Nickie watched through her fingers, but both Red and Xena skidded safely to stop, sniffed butts, circled each other three times, then took off around back.
"It's like a ritual," she said.
"Indeed," Duncan responded and took her hand.
She took a deep breath. "Okay." She grasped his hand while balancing the flimsy white box on the other. "Let's find out what this is all about."
The smell of coffee blew over her as soon as she stepped through the front door. How could something so awful smell so good? Her steps slowed as she approached the kitchen. "It's too quiet in there," she whispered to Duncan.
"Agreed."
There was more than her foster mother and brother. Gil had brought his wife. Teresa was there too. Andy and Rose were here. None of them had their children with them, which was another red flag. She was glad she'd brought her gun.
It was more like an intervention, rather than Sunday-turned-Wednesday morning scones with the in-laws. They sat around the enormous cherry kitchen table Nathan had made with his own hands. The only two empty chairs were one at the head of the table and one on the other side. Each person had a small plate and drink in front of them. None had taken a single bite.
Step by careful step, Nickie approached and set the box of donuts in the middle of the table.
Andy reached for the box. "Daily Baker's Dozen from Northridge Bakery. Score."
Daily? Not just a Wednesday deal? It was like who was going to be the last one standing when the music turned off in Musical Chairs. Nickie was not going to be stuck with the head spot and quickly took the one at the other end of the table. She carefully avoided eye contact with Duncan since she'd just thrown him under the bus.
Gloria took a deep breath. Nickie winced like she'd just sucked a lime after a shot of tequila. "We have learned of this Peru. And of this July 2."
Nickie's mouth dropped open and her eyes darted to Rose who held up her hands and said, "Wasn't me."
Andy was next. "She was really scary," he confessed.
Nickie sighed. "Yes. We have an international bust we are scheduling in a few weeks." How many resources they would have was yet to be determined. "I have a meeting with an FBI agent in the morning to plan that very thing."
"I told you a week ago. I come with you."
Hurst wasn't around. Nickie would throw him under the bus. "The FBI agent has a strict no civilians policy. He won't even let Duncan around anymore."
"I want to speak to this agent person."
"Oh, wow. Right. Okay. No." Nickie shuffled in her seat. Where was the soothing creek water when she needed it?
"I am coming to Peru," Gloria said in her way that said she wasn't going to budge.
"You know," said Duncan's uncle, Nathan. "That's not such a bad idea."
Gil jerked his head from Gloria to Nathan. "Oh no. I'm not gonna be left home."
Nickie was speechless. Flattered, but speechless. "As much as I'd like you to come—" And all get your heads blown off, "—you can't get a Peru visa on such short notice." There. That was perfect. How did Nickie come up with that so fast? She sniffed and sat up taller.
"I have already made arrangements. These Fu Haizi. They have identified you, Duncan. Yes? They know my Nickie's face. They not let either of you near this place." She pointed to the spot above her sizable chest. "I can get in. I speak the language."
Nickie's eyes grew large. "Peruvian Spanish is a bit diff—" she started to explain.
"You cannot keep me from this, my daughter. I would die for any of my children," Gloria said. "And this man. This Jun Zheng. He kidnapped me. This. It is personal."
* * *
Nickie's brain hurt. She sat at the desk in her office. Today was the day for her and Special Agent Hurst to have it out, and her head was still spinning from the railroading she received from her family at Sunday scones on Wednesday with the in-laws.
The desk clerk's station just outside of Nickie's office still remained empty. They hadn't replaced Lucinda. Her family hadn't even come to get her personal items yet. It made everything too real. Much rode on Nickie's shoulders. Most of it on this meeting.
Officers, desk clerks and detectives began to arrive for the day. Lights flickered and computers powered up. All excep
t her partner. He was stuck babysitting former Officer Dale Parker at the secret Reed Ranch current witness protection location. When had her life become such a mess? When had she become emotional about every damned thing?
She had a plan. This was the day both the captain's wife, Amanda, and Jess Larsen could join them. The clock on her phone said seven. An hour to go.
Hurst was going to have to figure out a way to allow the civilians, or she would simply keep the whereabouts of the July 2nd operations to herself. She would withhold Parker's location. Let him arrest her.
There wasn't room in her small office for the six of them, so they would meet in Dave's. She glanced over at the pop machine on the other side of the commons area and sighed. The opening elevator caught her eye. Jess Larsen of Child Rescue stepped out and looked from his left to his right.
She stood and walked around her desk. Jess caught sight of her and tilted his chin up in greeting. He followed her back into her office.
"Thank you for coming," she said and cleared off a chair for him.
"Of course."
He opened his arms and stepped toward her. Oh, boy. Ignoring her obvious and inappropriate reaction to being hugged, he held on and patted her on the back three times before letting go and sitting in the only empty chair.
She could still smell his cologne. It wasn't so bad. Jess was a good guy. After taking a short moment to recover, she chose pacing. He sat with his feet flat on the floor and his hands on his thighs. He nodded as he looked around.
"Do you think it will work?" he asked.
She sat down and closed her eyes. "I don't know. I am without a Plan B."
They reviewed the proposal, then re-reviewed it. She'd already done so with her captain's wife, Amanda, the night before.
The elevator opened. Dave stepped out with his wife. He stood over a foot taller than her and placed his dinner plate-sized hand on the back of the blue scrubs she wore. Glancing in Nickie's office window, his eyes landed on Jess before he kept walking.
Nickie pulled out her phone and sent him a text.
Ready for company?
He answered almost immediately.
Yep.
"We can head on in," she said to Jess. "It looks like just about everyone is here."
"Hello, Nickie," Amanda said as Nickie walked in. "It's good to see you." She walked up and wrapped her arms around her. It wasn't a pat-on-the-back hug. It was tight and lasted for hours. Or possibly a few seconds but seemed like hours. Nickie tried not to be too stiff and hugged her back.
"Thank you for coming," Nickie said. "I know you're very busy."
"This is important. I am here for you."
"Jess, I'd like to introduce you to Amanda Nolan. She's the person I mentioned who is highly involved in shelters around this area. Amanda," she said and gestured to Jess. "This is Jess Larsen, co-founder of Child Rescue."
They exchanged pleasantries, then together helped Dave arrange his leather guest chairs in a line in front of his desk. "Let's turn the chairs so the backs face Dave's desk. I want them to face the wall of dry erase boards."
Low vibrations came from the commons area. It was from a voice. She didn't need an eidetic memory to be able to pick it out of any crowd anywhere. Duncan. She couldn't hear the words he spoke, but the sound alone made her blood pressure lower several points. Yes. This was going to work.
Chapter 17
Hurst walked into the station at the same time as Duncan. Shaking his hand, Duncan squeezed hard enough to make his point without overstating. "Good morning, Special Agent. I believe we are the last ones to arrive."
Lifting his wrist free of his navy blue suit jacket, Hurst checked the time on his watch. "Did I get the wrong time? Eight o'clock, right?"
Stage one, complete.
An explanation as to why everyone had assembled early was not earned or warranted. So, Duncan nodded and said, "Yes, eight o'clock. Shall we?" he said and held open the door for him. They strode through security and to the elevator without speaking.
"It will be warm today," Duncan said as they rode to the top floor.
Hurst didn't answer, not that he'd asked him any question. He tilted his head toward Duncan and squinted.
Stage two, complete.
The common area silenced when they stepped out of the elevators in their suits and ties. No talking, no typing, no rustling of papers. Each beat officer who finished reports from the graveyard shift, the desk clerks and interns ducked their heads into work that suddenly encompassed them.
Stage three.
As they neared Captain Nolan's office, Duncan gestured for Special Agent Hurst to enter first. Dave sat behind his desk in full uniform. His wife, Amanda, sat in the farthest chair, wearing the scrubs she preferred to use when working with the homeless. Jess Larsen in a pair of jeans and a polo and Nickie sat in the next two. She was amazing. Beautiful, collected and poised. The chairs faced the back wall.
Stage four.
The group stood when they entered like they were in a courtroom. "I have coffee along the wall," Dave said. "Let's get started."
No introductions. No small talk. This was good.
No one went to the coffeemaker or moved from their seats but, instead, sat down and placed their hands in their laps. Except Nickie. Standing, she made her way to the back wall with an unrefined aura of street intelligence and cunning only his Nickie could display. She knew how to dress the part. Dark gray slacks that hung straight, hugging her hips and waist. Black boots and deep blue button-down blouse. She'd chosen her shoulder holster. Her Smith and Wesson M & P .45 ACP rested near her badge. He loved this woman.
"I have in my possession the planned locations of seven trafficking operations coming up within the next two weeks." Her words were for Hurst, but she spoke as if to the group. He would recognize this. Also, good.
She picked up a marker and tugged off the cap, giving the impression she was about to list the seven locations. Duncan knew otherwise. "Three of the seven are out of the country."
The large honey wheat waves moved with her as she rotated to face the empty dry erase board behind her. With the blue marker, she drew the numbers one through five in a vertical line on the left of the board.
Without explanation, she wrote her conditions.
Number one: No rescued child placed in juvenile detention facility.
Hurst placed his hands on the armrests and straightened in his chair. He lifted a finger as if to protest. Nickie didn't turn but, like a schoolteacher, seemed to have eyes in the back of her head and said, "I'm not finished, Special Agent."
Number two: Each agent involved trained by JL's CR certified trainers regarding alternative methods to handle processing victims.
He lowered his hand back to its place on the arm of the chair.
Number three: Civilians allowed in all operations.
This time she turned and took a step toward him. "Don't tell me you can't do this, Hurst. You had Slippery Jimbo Spalding practically leading your last bust. Make it happen or I'm out."
The muscles in Hurst's jaws flexed and released.
Rotating on the balls of her feet, she stepped back to the board. Her actions weren't forceful or condescending; they were simply honest and strong. She lifted her writing arm.
Number four: JL and AN in charge of coordinating safe houses.
"Locations I will provide if and only if you agree to these conditions."
She capped the marker and placed it on the tray at the bottom of the dry erase board. Number five remained empty. She strolled to the coffeemaker as she said, "Amanda?"
Amanda stood and walked to the marker board. Her small size should not be mistaken for weakness. Nickie upturned a mug from the wall and poured a cup from the decaf pot.
"I am Amanda Nolan. I am not only the wife of our NPD captain, but I oversee the homeless shelters in the Northeast and have connections up and down the East Coast. I have available safe house locations for rescued children across the east side of the country."
"You've been given the locations?" Hurst asked.
Amanda darted her eyes to Nickie. Nickie looked to the floor but nodded. "I've been given potential areas but no specific locations."
"Over the years," Nickie said from the side of the room. "Amanda has become a large presence in the area of shelters for the homeless around the Northeast as well as up and down the East Coast." She strolled back to the board with the steaming mug in her hand. Duncan found it difficult to recognize his Nickie with a mug of coffee in her hand instead of a Diet Coke.
"Her connections are solid as are her decades of expertise with housing humans in need. Thank you, Amanda. You're amazing. Jess?" Nickie gestured to Jess Larsen, who took his turn in front of the list of conditions. "Hello, Special Agent. It's good to see you again. Some of the locations are in the west, friend. Yes, Nickie's given me the general areas, and, yes, I can find solid places for the rescued children. Listen to her. I think she's got some good ideas."
Nickie had given Hurst her demands, then solutions to some reservations that would be going through his head. Duncan was married to the smartest, most beautiful, selfless woman there was.
She took a deep breath. No one else in the room would understand why, but her last condition would be the most difficult for her to express.
"Along with the locations of these seven trafficking operation locales, I have obtained the coordinates of four likely mass grave sites." Her fingers flexed and released before she turned and wrote.
Number five: Before sting operation, four qualified teams search potential grave sites.
When she turned, the expression on her face was not to be toyed with. "No exceptions. No negotiations. These are my conditions. If you don't agree to my conditions, I give you back Dale Parker and wash my hands of it all."
The silence could have been cut with a knife. His Nickie stood tall, her hands straight at her sides. No pacing, no rocking back and forth or fidgeting with her fingers.
"My superior still thinks Dale Parker is in Maine."
"Less than two weeks, Hurst."
"Why the grave sites beforehand?"
An agreement was close. Duncan could feel it.