by Robin Mahle
He retrieved his cell phone and made the call. “Yeah, it’s me. Look, I need your guys to come over as quickly as possible.”
“What do they got to do?” the man replied.
“Clean up. It’s a big job, so they should come prepared.”
“They’ll be there in an hour. Have the money ready.”
Scott ended the call and peered at the rolled-up rug covered in silver duct tape. “Maybe I can leave the country.”
“I wouldn’t suggest it.” Mason entered the room and stood next to him. “Good work, though. Is it handled?”
“Yes. It’s handled.”
He patted Scott on the back. “Great! How about dinner? I’m starved.”
The three agents who were experts in various areas of violent criminal conduct, joined together for the menial, but necessary task of combing through the phone records handed over to them by Varela in search of a match to Mason Wylder’s number, obtained via not so legal means.
“I hate to bug out on you guys, but I have to head to the airport.” Walsh stood and grabbed his keys. “I know it’s late, so if either of you want to go home and get some rest, no one will take issue with that.”
“I’m staying,” Duncan said.
“I’ll stay, too,” Quinn replied.
“Okay. I’ll come back with the rest of our team.” Walsh started out the door and made his way to his car.
He drove through Quantico’s gates and started on his way to Ronald Reagan Airport. It was the middle of the night and that didn’t matter because all he wanted to do was see his colleagues back on American soil. So many things had gone wrong. It was easy to question Scarborough’s decision in hindsight, but Walsh wasn’t about to do that to his boss. He’d worked enough cases to know that sometimes, shit happened. It didn’t usually happen in foreign countries, but there was always a first for anything. Regardless, he still felt torn by the entire situation. What was happening with Quinn, all of it made him question what he thought he knew about the people he worked with. He had become close to Kate, probably closer than he had to any of the others and he’d known them longer. There was just a way about her that drew him in. And she was smart. Scary smart and intuitive in ways he’d never seen before. It was no wonder Quinn was threatened by her, especially given his personality. But he felt all of this was about to slip through his fingers. The team as it now stood was fractured and he didn’t know if there was a way to get whole again.
He pulled into the short-term parking and walked inside the terminal. A quick text to Scarborough to let him know he’d arrived and he waited. A smile masked his face as he spotted the petite brunette with the pulled back hair. “Kate.”
Behind her trailed Scarborough and finally, Fisher. It seemed she spotted him to as indicated by her returned smile.
“Man, am I glad to see you.” Kate wrapped her arms around his burly shoulders and kissed his cheek. “Levi. Thanks for coming to get us.”
“Are you kidding? No way could I have waited at the office. No. I needed to see you. All of you. Just to verify you were okay.”
“We made it out alive,” Fisher said.
“By the skin of our teeth, but we’re here,” Scarborough replied. “Thanks for coming. We could’ve taken a cab.”
“Now don’t you start. Come on. We have a lot to catch up on.”
Duncan waited in the lobby of the BAU offices, knowing the others were pulling in. In the distance, the three of them approached and relief consumed her. She would never admit it to him, but her concern for Cameron Fisher had grown to the point of agony. “Thank God you’re all back safely.”
Fisher threw his arms around her and pulled her close. “Feels good to be home.” He pushed her to arm’s length. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”
“Me neither.” She turned to the others. “Did Walsh fill you in on the drive?”
“Mostly. I’d sure like to find a connection between our anonymous man and Wylder’s phone number.” Scarborough started toward the elevators. “I know it’s late, but now more than ever, I want confirmation so we can put this man behind bars. The sooner the better.”
They returned to the BAU offices where Quinn waited at the elevator doors. “It’s good to see you all.”
Kate eyed him with doubt thanks to their prickly relationship, which had worsened exponentially. She still hadn’t confronted him about his meeting with Georgia Myers, the former girlfriend of his boss. And it was all due to her good friend, Dwight Jameson, who dug up that little nugget of intel. Still, now wasn’t the time to bring it up.
“Thank you,” Scarborough replied. “I won’t lie, it’s good to be back. At least things make sense here and not everyone is looking for a payoff. Have you made progress?”
“Actually, I think so.” Quinn started back toward Walsh’s office where the files had been spread out on his conference table. “Duncan and I have been cross-refencing phone records and I think we might have something.”
“That’s right.” Duncan returned to the papers she had been working on. “Right here, here and here.” She pointed to three numbers that matched Wylder’s. “We have a match to our unknown accomplice and Wylder, who may or may not be the killer.”
“Is that enough for a warrant?” Kate asked.
“It’s a crapshoot,” Fisher said. “A couple of calls to a guy we don’t even know and have no evidence to suggest he’s a killer. I don’t know. Scarborough, what do you think?”
“I have to agree. I don’t think any judge will give us a warrant based on the circumstantial evidence we have right now. That said, if our lab makes a match with the DNA on the napkin Wylder gave to you, Duncan, and the samples we provided, that’s a whole other ball game. Then we got ourselves a case and we’ll get a warrant all day long with that.”
“So we wait—again,” Kate said.
“We have a lot that points to Wylder and the man who we assume works for him,” Walsh said. “And thanks to Duncan, we also have passport information on Wylder. We’ve made more progress here than we did there.”
“Then again, you weren’t escaping a hail of bullets,” Kate said. “Is there a way to pull employer records on Wylder?”
“You mean, the show he’s on?” Quinn asked.
“No. I mean, his own records. Who he pays. His assistants, housekeepers, valets, whatever. We might find the guy on his payroll and we have a description so if we can match that, then all the better for us.”
“I think that’s doable.” Walsh turned to Scarborough. “Look, the lab guys have gone home. It’s late and I can’t imagine how tired you all must be. Maybe we should call it for tonight. In the morning, we might have some answers and we can move on pulling more intel on Wylder.”
“I guess you’re right. We’ve all been through the wringer. You guys too. I know you haven’t stopped since you got back.” Scarborough peered at the team. “Walsh is right. There’s nothing more for us to do tonight. We’ll reconvene first thing in the morning.”
The walk throughout the softly lit corridor to the condo Nick and Kate shared was shrouded in unnerving quiet. Nick held open the door as Kate entered and on securing the lock behind him, he asked the question that hung over them since their return to D.C. “Are you okay?”
She dropped her bag to the floor and faced him. “No. I’m not okay. I thought I could handle it, but I guess I’m not as strong as I believed I was.” Her eyes welled.
“You’re the strongest woman I know.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I’m so sorry for betraying your trust. It was my job to keep you safe. You and the rest of the team. I know what I did and there is no justification.”
Kate walked into the kitchen and pulled two bottles of water from the fridge, setting one down in front of him as he joined her. “There are so many things you don’t know. Sacrifices I’ve made.” Kate wanted to tell him Quinn was blackmailing them and doing so with the help of Georgia Myers, a woman she once respected. His foolish demand that
she work with him to break through whatever professional barrier he struggled with. And if she didn’t, well, then everyone would know about Nick’s battle with alcohol. She had given in to Quinn’s demand.
“Why don’t you tell me then?” he replied. “How do we get past this, Kate?”
“I honestly don’t know. The only thing I do know is that I need sleep. I’m jet-lagged, my nerves are frayed. I have to close my eyes and try to find sleep. And you should do the same.” She padded into the bedroom and once inside, shed her clothes and pulled on a t-shirt. It felt good to be in fresh clothes. The only thing better would have been to have a shower, but she was drained. The condo was too warm. D.C. had been in the midst of a warming trend since they left and the air conditioning needed to be turned on. She walked back into the passageway where the thermostat was fixed to the wall and pressed the button. Nick stood at the hall’s entrance, as if in shock or disbelief. “What’s wrong? What are you doing?” she asked.
“Trying to come to terms with what I did. That I let you down, my team down and myself down.”
His gaze fell upon her in a way it hadn’t in some time. She felt him stare at her t-shirt and her thighs and her hair as it cascaded down her shoulders.
He walked toward her and rested his hand on her cheek. “Please don’t give up on me.”
“You didn’t keep your promise,” she whispered.
His lips touched hers. She felt his shame; his fear of losing her; his fear of losing everything. She sensed every bit of it so much so that heart broke for him. This man who had done so much to give her everything she wanted. Pushed her to be something she never knew she wanted to be. That was his true strength. He pulled from her a person and a life she never would have dreamed possible.
Nick pulled her up in his arms and carried her to their bedroom. He lay her down on the bed and in his eyes, she witnessed the love he had for her. The regret he felt for the decisions he had made. His soul was laid bare and she could deny him, or she could accept him for all his faults. She had placed him on a pedestal, and he fell.
“I love you.”
He pulled back and held her gaze. “Even still?”
“Yes,” she replied. “For now, that’s all I can offer.”
Cameron Fisher returned to his apartment on the edge of D.C. proper and switched on the lights. “Are you coming in?” he asked Eva.
“Right behind you.”
“You want something to drink?” He walked to the kitchen. “Water or anything?”
“I’m fine, thanks. I was worried about you.”
“I know. I was worried about me too.” He smiled.
It was just like him to lighten the tone of a conversation no matter how grave the subject. It was a defense mechanism because she knew he’d been afraid. They all had. None knowing for sure if they would survive. “I wish you hadn’t stayed with them.”
“I wasn’t going to let them do it alone. You know me better than that. We didn’t get what we wanted exactly, but we walked away with our lives.”
“Jesus.” She turned away. “We all thought this was going to be a slam dunk.”
“We both know it never happens that way.” He returned to her side. “But I’m glad to be home with you.” He started toward the sofa. “You know, I was thinking, with my contacts at NYPD, I bet I could take a look at the missing persons’ file. The one we suspect could link us to Wylder and/or his cohort. I still have some friends there.”
“It can’t hurt. But what we need is DNA.”
“That we do. At least it’s something I can work on while we wait.” He reached for her hand as she approached him. “I really was afraid I might not see you again.”
“You a me both,” She replied. “Levi’s afraid that after this case, the team’s going to fall apart.”
“Quinn?”
“He does seem to be the catalyst.”
“Don’t worry about him. He doesn’t have the ammo to take down any member of this team, let alone Scarborough. He’s blowing smoke and trying to make waves.”
“We know what he’s like, but Kate and Nick don’t, and Nick’s the one in charge.”
“You know what? It’s entirely too late to be worrying about office politics right now. We potentially have a famous New York actor decapitating women. Can you imagine what the optics on this are going to be?” He pulled her from the couch. “We should go to bed. You know the rules.”
“Get sleep while you can because you don’t know when you’ll get it again,” She replied.
It was Scott’s job to drive Mason Wylder to most of his destinations, and tonight’s dinner was no exception. He’d watched as his boss ate, drank and laughed all the while knowing what a monster he was and that he’d allowed the man to get away with abhorrent behavior.
The money had served as a deterrent and allowed him to look the other way while he brought those women to slaughter. Scott had become someone he never believed he could become. He was the monster. He played it off that they just wanted to be with the famous actor and deserved what they got for their vanity and lack of self-respect. But things were different now. It was as if he’d seen the devil for himself and it frightened the hell out of him.
Scott peered at Mason as he scrolled on his cell phone, three sheets to the wind. The idea of turning him in crossed his mind, though Scott would also end up in prison and a man like him would not do well in a place like that. Wylder would get some cushy isolated cell because of his celebrity status until the day he died, but not ol’ Scott Brooks, no sir. He’d be left inside with the wolves.
So he considered another solution. Something that could save him from the fate that surely awaited him at the expense of Wylder. What did he care about Wylder now? The narcissistic homicidal prick meant nothing to him anymore. Could he do it, though? Did he have the balls to go through with it?
Scott waited for Mason to pay the bill and he reached for his keys. “You ready to go, boss?”
Wylder slowly pulled up from his chair. “I am.”
Scott helped him to the car and opened the passenger door. After ensuring Mason was completely inside, he walked to the driver’s seat and slipped in. “Thanks for dinner.” It was all he could say in light of everything and even that was hard to do.
He started down the main road back to Mason’s exclusive high-rise apartment, but then reconsidered the idea he toyed with in the restaurant. Could he actually do it? He set his sights on Mason for just a moment. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, by the look of him. So if he was going to do this, it would have to be now in order to achieve the best results.
Scott pulled off onto another road that led to another house Wylder owned. The house on Grovers. The one with the gym. This was where he usually spent his holidays and had his family come around. It was in a nice secluded suburb and Scott carried on until they reached the narrow lane lined with trees. He was still a mile or two away from Wylder’s house, but he figured he could make it work here.
Scott pressed on the gas and the car accelerated.
Wylder appeared alert enough to catch on that they were speeding up. “What’s up, dude? Why are you going so fast? You got to take a piss or something?”
Scott ignored him and pressed harder and drove faster. He was doing 80 now.
“Dude? Slow the fuck down!” Wylder was starting to panic and appeared to be quickly sobering up.
Scott ignored him and watched the speedometer as it climbed to 100 before turning to Wylder and smiling. “Say goodbye to your life, you sick fuck.” He pulled sharply on the wheel and swerved to the side of the road. The car’s headlights shone on a hardy tall oak before barreling head-on into it. The front passenger side collapsed like an accordion while the car raised off its back wheels and fell again from the brute force of the stop. Steam rose from the engine high into the night air, glass was shattered and in pieces on the ground. Blood splattered in all directions.
And inside the car, both men lay against the deflated airbags,
lifeless.
23
The strident noise from the horn of the Mercedes coupe was what eventually rallied Scott from unconsciousness. He pulled back from the wheel, pushing away the deflated airbag, and the blaring stopped. His eyes fluttered as he tried to clear his vision, though his brain suffered a splitting headache. The car’s engine sputtered and steam still hissed from the mangled front end. Time had lost all meaning as the car remained wrapped around a tree on the two-lane road. It was still night, but that was all he could comprehend at the moment.
Awareness returned and Scott abruptly recalled what he’d done. A slow turn of his head to the passenger he intended to harm and there was Mason, doubled over amid metal debris and a collapsed airbag. “Mason?” He placed his hand on Mason’s shoulder and nudged him. “Mason? Are you awake?” He waited for movement, a breath or some indication Mason was still alive. “Mason? Man, wake up!” He shook him harder to confirm his suspicions.
Then Mason let out a moan.
“Jeez!” Scot pulled away his hand, shocked Mason survived. He had failed. “What the hell?”
Mason moaned again as he tried to move and managed to form garbled words. “What happened?”
If he couldn’t remember, Scott wasn’t about to tell him that he’d just tried to kill him and nearly killed himself in the process. “We have to get out of here.” He turned his head slowly and winced in pain as he tried to peer through the driver’s side window. No headlights or sirens approached. At least he had that going for him. Witnesses would have been a real problem because while he hadn’t accomplished his goal, he needed Mason Wylder to disappear for however long it took. Maybe forever.