His Good Deeds (Kate Reid Thrillers Book 13)

by Robin Mahle

  Levi tossed back a long swig of beer. He lived in an apartment not far from the pub. Divorced for several years now, he lived alone and had no children. His work was his life. Whether that had been a choice, Kate hadn’t known.

  Then there was Jonathan Surrey. Mid-thirties, Kate’s age. Polished. Slim, moderately tall. Never saw him in anything other than a bespoke suit. Initially hired on to replace Noah Quinn after an incident that saw Kate censured, he was learning to fit in with the elite group. His style was to leave everything at the office, or so he claimed. Take nothing home. He’d learned that the hard way after his wife left him with his kids. It seemed he never looked back at that life he had in Denver.

  Senior Unit 2 Agent Nick Scarborough was the last to arrive. Kate waved him over and stood to greet her husband with a kiss. “You’re late.”

  “Sorry. I had a hard time getting out of the office.” He turned to his former team. “Hey, guys. Long time, no see.”

  “Scarborough! Man, it’s about time you showed your face.” Fisher was on his second beer and wasn’t a big drinker to begin with. It showed. “How’s it going, brother?”

  “Good, man. Unit 2 is treating me well.” Nick sat down.

  Kate leaned into his ear and whispered. “I ordered you a Coke.”

  “Thanks, hon.”

  While it had become common knowledge that Nick was a recovering alcoholic, Kate felt a strange sense of secrecy about it. Perhaps dealing with her father’s drinking for most of her life forced into her a belief that it was something to hide, something of which to be ashamed. After all, it was never discussed in her family. Nick had quit drinking more than a year ago, then relapsed during the team’s investigation in Rio. That was how Kate remembered it.

  Nick was a few years older than Kate, at 41, but kept fit with a trim waist and broad, muscular shoulders. His hair started to grey, but she didn’t mind it.

  Fisher cleared his throat and prepared to speak. “Okay. Now that we’re all here, I’d like to raise a glass to Senior Supervisory Agent Kate Reid.”

  The waitress returned with Nick’s Coke and he raised his glass.

  “I can’t tell you how proud I am of the work you’ve put into this team,” Fisher added. “And after everything you’ve had to face down recently, I’m even more impressed.”

  Kate glanced away with some embarrassment. She still blamed herself for letting George Lehmann get the drop on her and take her hostage back in the spring. The nightmares hadn’t abated.

  “And now you’ll be the one we turn to as our lead profiler,” Fisher continued. “Those sons of bitches don’t stand a chance.”

  Scattered laughter sounded from the rest of the team.

  “So, congratulations, SSA Reid. Your star shines bright at the Bureau. Cheers!”

  The team held their glasses high and let out a resounding, “Cheers.”

  As the evening wore on and the drinks flowed, Kate pushed back her chair and leaned into Nick. “I’ll be right back.”

  Nick pulled his attention from a conversation with Walsh. “Okay.”

  She started toward the restrooms and stopped at the bar to glance at the television screen above. “Oh my God.”

  The bartender turned to her. “Crazy, right?”

  “Yeah.” Kate’s eyes were fixed to the screen as she watched the burnt remains of a vehicle in the distance and a whole city block cordoned off. “Where is this?”

  “Pittsburgh, I think. You want me to turn it up?” he asked.

  “No. No, that’s okay. Thanks.” She spotted the ATF and FBI agents in the distance. Several local police vehicles were positioned inside the barricade. The scrolling words beneath captioned the scene. “Car Bomb Explosion goes Live on Facebook.”

  2

  Light from a bright moon diffused around the bedroom curtains when Kate rolled out of bed. Nick appeared undisturbed as she padded through the hall and into the kitchen of their Woodbridge condo. Standing at the sink, she turned it on and peered out into the darkened living room. It took a moment before she realized her glass overflowed beneath the running water.

  Kate took a sip. Her eyelids were heavy, her body was tired, and her mind was besieged with thoughts of George and Richard Lehmann. One who took her hostage. The other, she murdered. So many questions lingered. Chief among them was who had sent her the message from a dead man’s phone? See you again, it had read. It all pointed back to the Mercy Killer. The case that saw her team on the hunt for a man who killed those who needed help the most.

  Theo Bishop, the Mercy Killer, was a madman and his mother, Carol Whitman, aided in his escape to Mexico. But she hadn’t acted alone. Someone inside the Bureau had helped. And when Kate received a text message from Richard Lehmann’s phone after his death, it hadn’t taken long for her and Nick to realize the Bureau insider who helped had issued a threat. Pay the price for what she’d done to Richard Lehmann or stop looking into Carol Whitman. Those were her options. She still hadn’t picked one.

  “Hey.”

  Kate jumped and spilled water from her glass as she looked at Nick, who had appeared from nowhere. She placed her hand over her heart. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “I called out to you. I guess you didn’t hear me.” Nick stood at the breakfast bar. His hair disheveled, rubbing his eyes, he stood bare-chested and carried unease on his face. “What are you doing up?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Kate set down her glass on the counter.

  “You didn’t. I woke up and checked the time before noticing you weren’t there. And not for the first time this week. Not for the first time in a while, actually.” He walked around the bar and stood next to her. “Like I’ve said to you before, I’m here if you want to talk.”

  “I know. I appreciate it, but I’m fine. Really. It’s just the promotion. I guess I’m nervous I’ll let everyone down.”

  “First of all, you could never do that. Secondly, the Board wouldn’t have okayed the promotion had they not read the countless letters of recommendation and interviewed you themselves.” He placed the crook of his index finger under her chin and guided her eyes toward him. “I don’t think this is about the promotion. Kate, it’s only been a few months since all that…”

  “That what, Nick? Since I killed someone? Since I was taken hostage? I’m fine. I told you that. You’re going to have to give me some space here, okay?” She pulled away. “Let’s just go back to bed.”

  Never before had Nick felt so vulnerable where Kate was concerned. No longer could he watch over her; make sure she stayed safe. It was part of the deal when he chose to leave the BAU-4 team. It was always in Kate’s best interest. But now, after watching her cope with the fallout of her actions, the suffering she denied experiencing; to him, it looked eerily like PTSD. He could do nothing except find the one whose threat still loomed. And there was no mistaking, it had been a threat. When and where this individual would choose to reveal his intentions was unknown. And Nick was never good at waiting.

  “Thanks for coming over to my side of the compound.” He offered his hand.

  “I don’t mind slumming it once in a while,” Walsh replied with a hearty handshake.

  Nick returned to his desk chair. “We keep plenty busy here. I bet there are more money launderers and hackers than there are serial killers.”

  Walsh chuckled and dropped down onto the guest chair. “I wouldn’t take that bet. In all seriousness, man, I’m glad you found a home here. These guys are lucky as hell to have you. And I’ll admit, things aren’t quite the same in Unit 4. But Reid, well, we all know she’s going to kick ass in her new job.”

  Nick grinned. “I couldn’t agree more, which makes this all the more important.”

  “Yeah. I get that.”

  Nick leaned over his desk on his elbows. “We both know someone helped Theo Bishop flee to Mexico. We already know the ties his mother’s family had to the Bureau.”

  “Top brass who was seriously connected on th
e inside and out,” Walsh replied.

  “You got it. That message from Richard Lehmann’s phone. I’m striking out all over the place. Can’t get a lead on anything. It’s taking a toll on her and has for a while now. I know you gave it your best before. What I need to know now, Levi, is will you help me see this to its end?”

  Walsh pulled in a deep breath. “I did root around a little bit when this all came about, as you know.”

  “Right.”

  “And I got about as far as you have. That was before the Richard Lehmann message. Nick, I have to think someone has dirt on Kate. I don’t know what it could possibly be or how they got it, but whoever it is must believe she did something wrong in the whole Lehmann debacle.”

  “She killed Richard Lehmann in self-defense. No one can prove otherwise. Surrey, himself, insisted that had been the case. He would’ve been killed too.”

  Walsh raised his hands. “Yeah, I get that. But someone believes otherwise, and we have no idea who it is or what they have. The driving factor here is that this individual realizes we know more than we should about Carol Whitman and her son. And it scares them. So, you want me to get into the muck with you on this one? You need to know that it could come crashing down on us hard. The likes that will bury us forever, you hear me?”

  “I hear you,” Nick replied. “So, you in?”

  Walsh raised the corner of his mouth in a crooked smile. “Hell, yeah.”

  Fourth Avenue in Downtown Pittsburgh looked exactly as it had before the horrific car bomb just days earlier. The only reminder was a black burn mark on the asphalt that looked like a firework had been set off. A really big firework.

  The charred BMW sat inside the FBI’s warehouse while the local field agent, Grant Tillis, labored to uncover more details about the murder of Financial Analyst, Rob Delaney. He stood before the car, examining it when he turned at the sound of his name. “Agent Stallard. Thanks for coming down.”

  Chris Stallard was ATF and was on the scene after it happened. “You guys get all the good stuff.” He surveyed the warehouse. “Makes me wonder why the hell ATF exists.”

  “Someone’s gotta arrest the bootleggers,” Tillis replied.

  Stallard laughed. “Sure. Bootleggers. Big business in these parts.” He folded his arms and widened his stance. “Where are we at with this heap of scrap metal?”

  “That’s why you’re here,” Tillis added. “I have my team hitting it hard on who had access to the victim’s social media. Autopsy is still pending. We’ve talked to his colleagues, family, and friends. We just aren’t making the kind of headway we should’ve made by this point in the investigation.”

  Stallard rubbed his square chin as he walked around the BMW. “No enemies?”

  “None we’ve been able to find, or who would admit to it,” Tillis replied. “The guy was basically an accountant. Worked a 9 to 5, single, no kids. I mean, you couldn’t get any cleaner than Rob Delaney.”

  “But we know this wasn’t random.” Stallard stopped at the front of the car and squatted low. “We know the device was placed on the mudflap, front driver’s side. Used clay adhesive. Pretty basic. Gasoline from the tank was the propellant. This didn’t happen on the fly, though. Whoever installed the bomb would’ve needed a window of opportunity.”

  “Someone who knew his schedule, possibly where he lived, and planted the device when he had enough time,” Tillis replied. “Okay. So how was the bomb detonated?”

  “From what my team has learned, it was remote detonation. Which means the bomber knew Delaney had returned to his car.”

  “He was being watched?” Tillis asked.

  “Watched. Maybe. Or…” Stallard glanced at him. “Have you pulled anything off the victim’s phone? Data, messages, whatever.”

  “No dice. It’s beyond repair. They pulled the SIM card, but it was melted. We have a request in for the carrier to provide the records. Should have that in our hands now, actually.”

  “According to the friend,” Stallard added. “She said Delaney used an app on his phone to unlock his car. Makes me wonder if the bomber received some sort of notification from Delaney’s phone that the car had been unlocked. Maybe the bomber didn’t need to be there—watching. It’s not a leap to assume someone hacked into Delaney’s Facebook account and livestreamed just before the bomb went off. One guy on site, one guy behind the scenes. We could be talking about a two-man operation.”

  Tillis pursed his lips as he appeared to consider the notion. “Someone with explosives knowledge and another who can hack their way into social media giants’ fortresses. But why Delaney?”

  “Hell if I know. Maybe he owed money to some folks. That’s up to your people to figure out,” Stallard replied. “I just need to know how they got the materials, where they got the materials, and if they plan on doing it again.”

  Jonathan Surrey stood outside Kate’s new office a moment before walking in. “Place is starting to take shape. Looks better than when it was mine.”

  Kate glanced up at him. “You hardly had a chance to unpack.”

  “Oh yeah. That’s right.” He smiled and nodded. “Seems to me you swooped right in and snatched the best office on the floor.” Before she could defend herself, he raised his hands. “I’m kidding, Reid. You know I’m kidding. Hey, sorry I bailed early on your celebration the other night.”

  “No problem. I’m just glad you could be there for a while. Sit down. What’s going on?”

  He took a seat opposite her desk and surveyed the room. “Just wanted to see how you’re settling in. Looks like you’ve done a good job so far.”

  Kate narrowed her gaze. “That’s it? That’s all you wanted to do? I haven’t measured for the drapes yet. You could help me out with that.”

  “I might still have the measurements written down somewhere.” He chuckled. “Besides, can’t a colleague check in on his newly promoted co-worker?”

  “Sure, but I think I’ve learned enough about you to know you couldn’t care less about this office. So, what is it?” Kate pressed on.

  “Well, if you must know, since it looks like I’ll be sticking around for a while, I wanted to get your thoughts on where a new guy in town might think to put down some roots.”

  Kate pulled back in surprise. “Put down roots? You want to buy a house?”

  He shrugged. “I was thinking about it. I’m in a small apartment now. It’s nice, but I prefer a little more space. And now that it looks like I’ve found my new role and my new home here at Unit 4, I guess I’d like to make things more permanent. It’d be nice for my kids to have their own rooms when they come visit. Whenever their mom allows it, that is.”

  Surrey had, so far, kept himself at arm’s length from the rest of the team. Never revealed much about himself. Didn’t express opinions unless it was about a case. So it surprised her he’d come to her for advice, even mentioning his kids. Maybe he was looking to open himself up a little bit. Make friends, stick around a while. More importantly, he’d turned to her as a friend. Kate didn’t have many friends.

  “Scarborough and I live in Woodbridge. It’s just a condo. Well, it’s Nick’s condo, but we like it. It’s fine for now. I had rented a house in Woodbridge for a few years before that, just as soon as I arrived from San Diego. Great little house. Backyard. I don’t know if it’s available or if the old lady’s son sold it, but I could find out.”

  “I’d appreciate that, Reid, thanks. Yeah, I think a small house would suit me better than an apartment. Never really been an apartment kind of guy.” Surrey stood.

  “I’m not much of an apartment person either. And I do remember what it was like being the new guy here.”

  “Sure, but the team leader was your boyfriend,” he replied.

  Kate’s smile faded as she cast down her gaze.

  “Hey, Reid, I didn’t mean anything by that.” Surrey gripped the back of the chair as he wore regret. “I just meant…”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see if that house is avail
able. You’d like it.”

  He nodded ruefully. “I’m sure I would. See you later, Reid.”

  At 22, Danny King had never intended to be sitting inside the Department of Economic Security in Pittsburgh. He shook away his blonde curly hair and shifted in the hard plastic seat as he checked the clock on the wall. 4:35pm. He looked at his ticket. Number 432. The next ticket to be called was 417. Danny sighed and his shoulders dropped. It wasn’t looking good that his number would be called before the government office closed. If that happened, he’d have to ask for another day off work to sit here and wait. All he’d wanted was to find out why his sister’s check hadn’t shown up this month. He needed that money, and he needed his job. One would suffer if he wasn’t called on today.

  A heavy-set man appeared from the staff entrance door and gazed out into the waiting area. “We’ll be taking up to number 431 today. The rest of you will have to come back in the morning. Good news is, keep your number. We’ll start at 432.”

  The waiting area was chock-full of people who let out a collective sigh, including Danny. “Seriously? I’m 432!”

  “Bad luck, kid.” The man next to him patted his shoulder. “Look at it this way, you’ll be in and out in the morning.” He laughed, seeming to know that was unlikely.

  “Yeah, thanks.” Danny stood and grabbed his backpack that was on the floor, slinging it over his shoulder. “Fucking government.” He pushed through the glass door hard enough to make it snap back on its hinges.

  Outside, the sun broke through the clouds as it worked its way west. Danny squinted before putting on his sunglasses. He marched through the parking lot, still muttering obscenities at the dysfunctional bureaucratic system before he reached his old white Ford Focus. He unlocked his car and slipped behind the wheel, throwing his backpack onto the passenger seat. “Assholes!” He glared at the building and keyed the ignition. “Bet you’d work faster if it was money you needed.”